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Part 1 of Master of Death
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2022-01-10
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2025-04-08
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The Heir of the House of Black

Summary:

It was the year 1998, and Wizarding Britain was finally beginning to heal from the wounds of the devastating war. Auror trainee Harry Potter was leading his first field operation when he was struck by a Killing Curse. This led to an unexpected encounter with Death, who revealed to Harry that he could turn back time to remedy his deepest regrets.

Unbeknownst to Harry, dark wizarding activities were erupting across Britain, threatening to shatter the fragile peace once more. But who was behind these sinister plots? What were they trying to accomplish? Was it too late to stop them?

Perhaps all the answers lay where Harry was headed...

This is a journey of family, friendship, self-discovery, and, as always with Harry Potter, a healthy dose of world-saving.

Inspired by Tsume Yuki's "Time to Put Your Galleons Where Your Mouth Is" and with her expressed permission, this is the author's fiction re-imagined.

Prologue (Ch1-5): 19k words
Pre-Hogwarts & Year 1 (Ch6-16): 61k words
Year 2 (Ch17-30): 77k words
Year 3 (Ch31-52): 153k words
Year 4 (Ch53-68): 100k words
Year 5 (Ch69-83): 115k words
Year 6 (Ch84-?): ongoing

Notes:

Translation into Simplified Chinese available (Please note — external link): https://shiyouxiaoguancha.lofter.com/post/4b8737d5_2b843ab76 by JosephineParason

Chapter 1: Prologue - Turais Orion Black (revised)

Chapter Text

 


THE HEIR OF THE HOUSE OF BLACK


 

 

 

 

Welcome newcomers and hello familiar faces,


For newcomers, I hope you enjoy my first-ever written creative work. This will be a long story and I hope you can join me on this journey! I love comments, so please let me know your thoughts!

 

For those who are revisiting this story or rereading due to the author’s note published on February 5, 2022 (Chapter 62), this story has undergone a major revision over the past two months. If you started reading this story before February 5, 2022, then please note that you might have read the old version. So, please proceed with caution or consider restarting the story. If you started reading after February 5, 2022, then rest assured that you have read the updated/ revised version. Finally, thank you for your continued support for my story.

 

Best regards,

ravenclawblues 2022-02-05

 


 CHAPTER ONE

PROLOGUE: TURAIS ORION BLACK


 

         The cold air hit the newborn baby uncomfortably as he cringed and let out an involuntary cry. His eyes were shut tightly as his small ears picked up the first sounds of this world - voices chatting, fabrics shifting, feet shuffling.

         “A healthy screamer, this one,” the wet nurse said. She bathed and cleaned the baby before wrapping it in soft linen. Carefully, she handed the child off to the impatient father, who immediately soaked in and marvelled at every feature of his newborn child with the softest gaze.

         “Is it a boy?” the mother asked immediately. However, the father was too preoccupied with caressing the child’s cheek to pay any attention. Instead, the wet nurse replied with the affirmation. “Thank the magic that it is a boy.”

         In the father’s warm embrace, the baby slowly cracked open his bleary eyes a mere fraction of an inch.

         Peering up, the first thing he saw of the world was a handsome man. The corners of his father’s eyes were crinkled with joy as the newborn child was mesmerized by those bright eyes that shone like glimmering films. Beneath the sparkling sheen, there were two rings of light grey with a subtle purple undertone that radiated a sense of calmness. They were also accented with specks of charcoal that hinted at a modest air of aristocracy and class. Finally, the baby boy was able to peel his gaze away from the soulful eyes and turned his attention to the combed-up raven hair and the well-trimmed handlebar moustache.

         The baby gurgled happily at the man. He felt warm and, most importantly, loved.

         “Let me have a look at our son,” the mother said with a sharp voice, and the father handed off the child carefully to her.

         Now, the mother replaced the father in the baby’s vision. His large, curious eyes scanned the pointed nose, high cheekbones, and piercing obsidian eyes. However, the lack of warmth in her demeanour frightened him. Yearning for his father’s touch, the baby squirmed and brought forth a scream of displeasure. 

         “Behave, child!” the mother snapped as the baby twisted and turned. Finding that he could not get away from his mother’s touch, magic coursed through his body instinctively to defend against the perceived threat. However, his tiny body could not handle the sudden onslaught of magical powers as he discharged the energy uncontrollably into the room.

         The window and vases on the cupboard shattered as the door slammed shut. Two landscape portraits hanging on the wall crashed down to the ground in two loud thumps. The attending wet nurse shrieked.

         “Merlin! Was that accidental magic?” The father stared at his son in awe. “B…but, isn’t he far too young for – ”

         “Orion, only the best for the new heir of the House of Black!” the woman snapped at her husband and looked back at their son with a bigger, more genuine smile. “My little prince. You will be called Turais Orion Black, the newest heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And you will become the strongest Black of all.”

         The boy screamed.

Chapter 2: The First Meeting with Death (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWO

THE FIRST MEETING WITH DEATH


 

November 28, 1998 (Saturday)

 

ILLEGAL CACHE OF PORTKEYS IN CALAIS

by M. Amerinus

Secret Route for Criminals from the Continent Discovered?  

 

The growing unrest between pockets of militarized Dark witches and wizards against their local Ministries has finally spilled over our borders. The first in a series of Muggle attacks around Dover has gripped the nation with fear at the prospect of yet another rise of a new Dark Lord mere months after the fall of You-Know-Who. The Auror Office, under the newly-minted Head Auror Gawain Robards, attempted to assuage these fears in their press release, stating that these violent acts were incited by the remnant supporters of You-Know-Who…

 

***

 

          “Talbot, on your left! Protego!

          Harry Potter quickly shot off a Shield charm in front of his companion, who was currently locked in a duel, as a streak of harsh, red light honed onto its intended target. The hex contacted the hastily-formed barrier with a loud, ear-splitting bang. Then, it ricocheted upwards into the ceiling and blasted it apart. Sparing a glance at the splintering wood that was raining down, Harry quickly threw himself behind a pile of boxes as part of the roof collapsed onto the floor below. The entire battlefield was engulfed in a swirling cloud of dust as the sounds of coughs filled the space. As the particulates slowly settled, he noticed the rays of silver moonlight peeking through where the roof was mere seconds ago.

          Before Harry could even gulp a lungful of fresh air, another green hex streaked past him.

          “You hit?” Harry called out.

          “Fine. Him, not so much. Watch your left!” Henry Talbot shouted back somewhere to his left.

          “Reducto!” The boxes beside Harry exploded, spraying another round of dust and sand in his face as the force of the spell knocked him onto the ground. Harry quickly recovered to his feet and darted across the corridor behind a steel beam for cover as he threw two Stunners behind him. Jets of green and red screamed past his position on both sides as Harry was pinned down at his current position. Scanning his surroundings, he locked eyes with another teammate ten metres to his right and called out.

          “Fenwick! Do you know where the two snipers are?”

          Lena Fenwick risked a peek over behind the crate at the direction of where the curses originated and immediately shrunk back as two curses sailed directly at the space where her head was just a second ago.

          “They’re hiding between the two red shipping containers in the back of the room. Potter! I was expecting only boxes of dirty socks as short-distance Portkeys, not four murder machines!”

          “Trouble always finds me,” Harry grimaced as the other Auror trainee groaned.

          Short-distance Portkey was a type of Portkey commonly used by criminals and smugglers to travel between Dover and Calais illegally. With some cleverly-placed Magic Suppression charms, they were basically undetectable by Ministerial Anti-Portkey charms.  While it was not uncommon to find the odd caches of illegal Portkeys in the area, the sheer amount found in the past two months was concerning since it reached a level not seen since the days when Grindelwald’s reign of terror gripped the continent.

          For the past two weeks, Head Auror Gawain Robards had persistently reminded him to strictly follow protocol and to keep his head down. This was, as he argued, the first field operation for Harry and his fellow Auror trainees: Lena Fenwick, Caelum Selwyn, Henry Talbot, and Pierre Dubois. The mission was also meant to be a simple confiscation of illegal Portkeys, not some epic cross-country manhunt.

          But like all things in Harry’s life, what was supposed to be a straightforward mission turned into a bloody nightmare.

          A few crates exploded to his right, throwing chunks of wood at Fenwick’s face.

          “Okay, I am officially fed up with this. Potter, make the call,” she said as she spat out tiny pieces of burnt wood chip.

          “Do you have a clear shot at them?”

          “Negative,” she shouted, her hair curling messily outside her deformed hair-bun.

          “Visual on Talbot?”

          “Affirmative, Confringo! Twenty steps to my right.”

          Forming a plan quickly in his mind, he spoke again. “With the anti-Apparition wards up, they can only escape through the main doors behind us. Where’s Selwyn and Dubois?”

          “Here!” Two men said as they came into view, taking cover behind a tower of boxes immediately to the left of him. “Dispatched the other one. What’s the plan?”

          “Good.” Harry wiped off the sweat on his brow with his dirt-stained sleeves. “We will have to draw them in and flank them on both sides. Selwyn, stay put and provide cover for us. Dubois, you and I’ll go left. Fenwick, pick up Talbot and go right. D.I.S. unless lethal. Understood?” 

          D.I.S. stood for the three spells used in standard protocol for apprehending criminals - Disarming, Incarcerous, and Stunning Spells.

          “I think we are way past that point!” Fenwick grunted as she ducked beneath another violent curse.

          “We are legally obliged to announce this,” Harry retorted.

          “Never took you as a stickler for the rules.” Fenwick threw him a playful grin before she readied her wand. “I’m getting tired of this party. Let’s wrap it up.”

          “Selwyn, throw a Protego maxima on the count of three, so I can get out of this pin. One. Two. Three!” Harry shouted as another crate exploded beside him.

          At the signal, Selwyn cast an enormous blue shield that soared over Harry’s head. It entrenched itself a few steps in front of Harry, temporarily protecting him from the incoming volleys of spells as he sprang out of his hiding spot and ran hard to his left. The shield charm cracked and wavered under the intense barrage. As Harry ducked behind another set of crates, the shield shattered into thousands of blue pieces and dissipated.

          Joining Dubois, he looked across the room and saw Henry and Fenwick crouched behind a metal rack, drawing heavy fire. Their gazes connected, and she nodded.

          “Dubois, stay tight. We are going in.” Harry eyed Fenwick then towards the crates where the jets of curses originated and nodded. Raising his left hand, he counted down with his fingers. One. Two. Three. Dubois ran one step in front of him as they circled the room along the left side, ducking under the incoming hexes while responding with their own Incarcerous and Disarming spells. Selwyn’s red Stunners were also sailing above their heads to provide a clear path.

          Suddenly, Harry saw a hex screaming towards Dubois, who was two steps ahead of him and seemingly unaware. Harry yelled, ‘Dubois, on your right!” as he grabbed his robes and yanked him back as hard as possible. The hex screamed past in front of Dubois, missing its mark by mere millimetres.

          “Merlin’s beard, this burns!” Dubois hissed as Harry sat him down behind another tower of crates. Kneeling beside him, Harry pulled on his robe to inspect the wound. The fabrics on his stomach were burnt off by the intensity of the spell, revealing a wide band of swollen red skin across his stomach. Welts were beginning to form, but at least he avoided the brunt of the Blood-boiling Curse.

          “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing too serious! Stay put. I will take care of the rest,” Harry stated calmly as he went back into a crouching position while peeping around the corner. Fenwick and Talbot were exchanging fire with the two remaining assailants. His side was clear.

          “No, Potter,” Dubois attempted to grab Harry’s sweat-soaked cloak but missed, and Harry inched back into the fray.

          Taking advantage of the opening on the left of the room due to Dubois’ injury, the two assailants emerged from their vantage point and charged towards the exit.

          Harry ran ahead to intercept them as Fenwick and Henry appeared behind the assailants’ backs. Quickly, they issued two well-aimed Incarcerous spells. However, one of the men drew a red and gold package and threw it towards the Incarcerous spells. The spells connected with the package and exploded into a gigantic fireball with a reverberating boom that shook the entire complex.

          Nearest to the explosion, Harry was thrown onto the ground from the blast. Harry’s head slammed onto the ground as his Holly wand slid from his grasp and rolled harmlessly away. His world spun in disorientation as he attempted to sit back up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw hundreds of firecrackers emerge where the package was and whizzed randomly across the room, exploding as they came into contact with any surface. With a wall of fire and smoke separating the unarmed Harry from his teammates, the two men turned their attention to him.

          One of the men, Harry recognized him as Evan Rosier with his blurred vision, pointed his wand at Harry and spat, “Finally, we meet again, Harry Potter.”

          “Rosier,” Harry gritted out.

          “Now you die,” the other man leered. “Avada Kedavra!

          Harry did not even have time to react as the intensifying green light rushed directly towards him, filling his vision with only green.

          Then, his entire world turned dark.

 

***

 

          Harry laid face down and was met with complete silence. Although his eyes were closed, he could sense that he was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there.

         ‘Hmmm, this place feels familiar.’

          After a few seconds, or maybe it was a couple of hours, Harry became conscious and slowly opened his eyes. He took in his surroundings as the great white nothingness began to rearrange itself into a familiar setting.

         ‘King’s Cross Station.’

          Harry reached out to his senses. He was feeling neither warm nor cold, something and nothing simultaneously. For the first time, he was aware that he was naked.

          ‘I’m naked again,’ Harry thought bemusedly and wished he was clothed. His wish had barely reached his mind when he saw a set of robes appear a short distance away. Quickly, he pulled them on. The fabric was soft, clean, and warm … and with a sense of weightlessness, as though he was wearing nothing at all.

          ‘I was not expecting you to be back so soon, young Master of Death.’

          He spun around. A black hooded figure stood idly, towering over the station clock it stood beside. Unsure, he eyed the figure with apprehension and observed its dark robe flap gently as though it was swayed by a non-existent breeze.

         ‘You have nothing to fear. You are my equal, my partner, and soon enough, my friend. I will do you no harm.’

          The hooded figure extended his arm and beckoned him forward, a skeletal hand appearing as the sleeve pulled back.

          “Death,” Harry realized. Although the figure did not move, Harry felt a sense of affirmation. He wondered if Death communicated telepathically.

          “I was not expecting you to look exactly like how the storybooks portrayed you,” Harry commented as he slowly approached Death. As he got closer, he realized the figure was four feet taller than him, dwarfing him in comparison. Harry wondered if Death also understood his thoughts.

          In his mind, he registered a short, amused chuckle.

         ‘Yes. I can read your thoughts. As for my appearance, if you recall what Albus Dumbledore told you when you were last here, this is your party. Just like how you imagined this place as King’s Cross station, this is how you imagined me.’

          He nodded as he looked around the station once. Speaking to no one in particular, he said with a sigh, “So I guess this is it. That’s the life of the Boy-Who-Lived, the one destined to die trying to save the world from Dark wizards again and again until his eventual and inescapable fall.” Harry was surprised by the bitterness in his voice. Then, he realized the growing lump in his throat as his rising feeling of regret filled his body.

          What did he regret? Harry thought he had lived a fulfilling life with the cards he had been dealt with. He had made a relatively normal life for himself with his close friends. This was all he wished for. So why did he still feel this indescribable sorrow? Harry searched within him and the growing torrent in an attempt to identify the origins of this inexplicable feeling.

          Ginny? Of course, he wished their time had not been cut short prematurely, but they had a good run.

          No, that wasn’t it. 

          Ron and Hermione? Their close friendships and adventures for the past decade were enough to last him a lifetime.

          No, that wasn’t it either.

          The Weasleys? Yes, he regretted Fred’s death, but he recognized by now that he alone would not have prevented every casualty in a war. They have provided him with a family, a home that he never had… 

          Suddenly, a dull throb reverberated from the innermost part of his soul. 

          Family. Not the family that he had the blessing of joining. But the family he had never gotten to know. His father, his mother, his grandparents, his relatives, Remus and… Sirius.

          ‘Maybe I can finally meet them properly in the “Beyond.”’  

          Suddenly, death did not seem like such a terrible thing anymore.

          “I’m dead for good this time?”

          ‘No.’

          “I’m not dead?” asked Harry, genuinely surprised. He felt his brows arching up into his hair.

         ‘Yes.’

          “But how? I no longer have protection from my mother. I no longer am a vessel of a Horcrux,” Harry instinctively reached for his lightning scar. “And I lost the Resurrection Stone somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, so I am no longer in possession of all the Hallows….” Harry trailed off as he thought back to Death’s greeting – it called him the Master of Death. ‘Does that mean I am still the Master of Death despite…’

         ‘You are correct, young Master of Death. As you will soon discover, the mastering of the Hallows does not require the physical possession of them at all times. As the last descendant of the Peverell brothers and as the rightful owner of the Deathly Hallows, you are their Master across all times - past, present, and future.’

          “So... this means I can go back, can’t I? Or I can … journey on?” Harry suddenly noticed the familiar red train at the platform as lazy clouds of steam gently rolled around it.

         ‘Yes. The choice lies in your hands.’

          “Where is its destination?” Harry asked as he waved his hand towards the train.

         ‘The next great adventure. You will have the chance to guide the world down an alternate path and even to remedy your greatest regrets.’

         Family, Harry immediately realized as his eyes widened at the implications.

         In his mind, he could sense Death’s approving nod.

         ‘Yes, young Master. If you choose to, you will be reborn into a different body, and in this case, in the past. However, you will cease to be Harry Potter. You may still cross paths with individuals you have once known in this life, but they will not recognize you, for they will retain no memories of this timeline. There is no turning back.’

         “Alternate timeline?” asked Harry. 

          ‘Yes. The future is the combined result of the choices made by every individual at any given time. One change in one choice by one individual can potentially alter the future completely.’

          ‘Imagine time as one continuous river, and the world is a leaf that floats down it. Every choice presents a fork in the river with diverging branches downstream. By returning the leaf upstream, your choices can guide the world down a different timeline with a different future. You will have a chance to prevent the world from descending into a similar fate as the one that befell this one.’

         “Does this mean I will have a chance to meet my parents? To defeat Voldemort and to save them from being murdered?” asked Harry. 

         ‘Yes.’

         With this information, Harry stood in silence for a long time. The thought was finally seeing his lost family and friends was too tempting. However, he could not just abandon his friends here. The Wizarding World was just beginning to heal itself, and it would be selfish of him to abandon his friends and family now.

         ‘I sense that you are not prepared to journey on yet, young Master. But perhaps upon your next return, you will be.’

         “I am ready to return,” Harry gasped with a hint of unwillingness. Upon uttering those words, Harry also realized that the action pained him more than he had anticipated.

         ‘Very well, young Master. I will see you soon.’

 

***

 

          Harry gasped as he opened his eyes and observed the destruction in the interior of the warehouse. The assailant who shot the Killing curse at him was looking away from him as two jets of red light from different directions hit squarely on the men’s chests. They collapsed as their wands rolled out of their slacked grasps.

          Harry stared at the two stilled figures and breathed heavily with adrenaline coursing through his veins. In the background, he barely registered the continuing explosions of light and fire.

          “All clear!” yelled Caelum Selwyn over the loud cracks as he appeared beside him, eyes wide in panic. “Are you okay, Harry? I heard Rosier using the Killing Curse, and I thought you were struck down. Thank Merlin, you’re okay….” Harry gave him a curt nod as Selwyn handed him his Holly wand.

          “I’m all right. Take a look at Dubois for me. I’ll take care of the Whiz-bangs.”

          Selwyn opened his mouth again to protest. But glancing at Harry’s stern gaze, he backed down and made his way towards Dubois.

          “Potter, we can’t vanish these firecrackers!” Henry shouted beyond the growing wall of fire, thick smoke, and acidic smell of burnt plastic. “They just keep multiplying every time I try!”

          “Stop, Talbot! It will just make it worse.” Harry’s eyes watered as the smoke spread. “I know the disassembling charm.” He quickly muttered the charm at the fireworks before he could suffocate any further.

          Suddenly, the warehouse descended into a chaotic silence. The moonlight, now serene and welcoming, became the sole light source in the warehouse once again. Its silvery rays penetrated the dissipating smoke and showed Henry’s soot-covered, grateful smile. Fenwick was sprawled on the ground and breathing laboriously; she was just reinnervated from the blast as well.

          “I request a change of partners,” she breathed out in a tired groan.

          Harry could only chuckle half-heartedly at her protest as the conversation with Death weighed on his mind.

 

***

 

          Once again, Harry was enveloped in the familiar, chemical stench that was the Cleaning Potions in St. Mungo’s as the Healers conducted a health check-up for any injuries in the aftermath of the unexpected battle. Beside him, his partner, Caelum Selwyn, was pacing in circles, restless for the results that would finally assuage his fears.

          Suddenly, the door slammed open as Gawain Robards, the Head Auror, walked into the room with fury in his eyes.

          “HARRY SODDING POTTER!”

          “Gentleman,” the Mediwitch gasped at the unseemly display. “I will have to ask you to leave if you cannot get a grip of yourself -”

          “I take a dose of Calming Draught every day and two when you’re out and running about, Potter!” Robards shouted as he passed the affronted lady. The man looked mightily displeased and dishevelled from the frantic late-night travel. “You are the worst trouble-niffler I have the misfortune of knowing!

          “This was supposed to be an easy, walk-in-the-park surveying mission for you greens! Something to tick off a box on your first interim assessment!” Robards continued to yell over the Mediwitch’s protest. “How did it end up with the capture of two of Britain’s most-wanted Death Eaters?! Stop making headlines for a change, Potter! You are an Auror trainee, not some hotshot star Auror! Professionalism, please!”

          Harry knew Robards was just worried, and there was no real heat behind his words. So he merely kept a straight face and nodded at the complaint.

          “You are in a boatload of trouble, Potter. You are banned from all field ops for the rest of the year!” Robards said as he started to walk out of the room. Then, he turned around and added, “By the way, I am supposed to congratulate you both for capturing Rosier and Synde, but I’m too angry to do so right now! Find me tomorrow, and we’ll talk if I don’t die of an aneurysm first, that is!”

          With that, Robards left as the door slammed shut behind him.

          “How dare he,” the Mediwitch huffed before she turned her attention towards Caelum. “And you. Please leave the room while I perform the diagnostic tests. Any shouting or fighting can wait until after.

          Caelum looked quite unwilling to budge, but the withering glare from Mediwitch prompted him to follow her command. After being poked and prodded at for a good part of ten minutes, Harry was declared healthy and ready to be discharged from St. Mungo’s at any time.

          “And just in time to make Friday pub night!” Caelum announced excitedly as he glanced at his watch.

          Harry took a quick sniff at his robe and caught a strong whiff of smoke and gunpowder that caused him to sneeze. With nothing else to put on, he reluctantly shrugged it on only to realize that dozens of holes with burnt fringes dotted the entire front of his robe. With a heavy sigh, Harry took it off once again and said, “Have fun -”

          Caelum clasped a hand on Harry’s shoulder and looked at him dead in the eye.

          “We’re going together,” he insisted.

          Harry was aware that the Auror trainees had regular get-togethers at the Leaky Cauldron every Friday after work. However, with the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry’s role in the war still fresh on everyone’s mind, he tended to avoid any social events that could place him in the centre of a fawning crowd of unwanted admirers. Therefore, he had never attended any of the pub nights despite joining the Auror Academy for three months.

          “Come on,” Caelum said. “Everyone there knows you already. I’ll vouch for their good behaviour.”

          Harry was about to protest when he remembered that he was offered a second chance to return to the land of the living. It might not bring about an immediate change in perspectives, but it warranted a change in behaviour, at the very least.

          “Fine,” Harry finally said as Caelum’s jaw dropped comically. “I’ll stay for just a drink or two and call it a day.”

          “Well...” Caelum seemed dazed at the unexpected turn of events. “I thought you would need much more convincing than that -”

          “Two drinks, maximum,” Harry reiterated before he headed for the Floo.

 

***

 

          Harry almost instantly regretted his decision as he emerged from the green flames of the fireplace inside the Leaky Cauldron.

          The background chatters died away as all pairs of eyes were trained solely on him. Harry tried his best not to let it affect him as he walked past the gawking crowd. He could also hear the hushed exchanges of words that likely had him as the topic of conversation. It was only when he turned into the hallway and out of sight of the main hall that the conversations finally resumed.

          “We’re in here,” Caelum said softly, sounding slightly hesitant before he cleared his throat and knocked on the wall.

          Upon seeing Harry, the entire room of Auror trainees erupted in thunderous applause.

          “The Boys Who Lived!” Harry heard Blunt, a fellow trainee, shout out as everyone else laughed and cheered. It seemed like news of their encounter with the Death Eaters travelled fast. Half anticipating this display, Harry merely schooled his face into a perfunctory smile as he walked down the aisle and accepted the approving thumps on his back.

          They successfully made their way to an empty table at the back of the room and the attention on him slowly abated as everyone shifted back to their separate conversations. However, Harry could still feel the weight of wandering gazes from the other patrons and some of his fellow trainees. 

          Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Harry eyed the rest of the room warily. Picking up on his discomfort, Caelum started to say, “I didn’t expect...” 

          Caelum did not manage to finish his sentence as Jones, a Senior trainee in her third and final year of training, walked up to their table with two tumblers.

          “I wished I could say I’m surprised that you managed to capture two Death Eaters on your first field-op,” Jones said teasingly as she placed the mead on the table. “These two pints from me.”

          Caelum eyed Harry’s confused expression and explained gingerly, “It’s a tradition that other trainees buy drinks for those who’ve had a close shave with death. If there is ever a good reason to drink, escaping death is definitely one of them.”

          “That, and also the fact that Selwyn somehow convinced you to show up,” Jones replied cheekily.

          “I suppose I decided that it was time to check it out for myself,” Harry said with a tight smile. Lifting a mug, he gestured it at Jones and said, “Thanks.”

          “Well,” Jones chuckled as she waved her arm at the crowd. “As you can see, we don’t bite.”

          “I rather you did...” Harry muttered under his breath before taking a gulp of stout.

          They were soon joined by several others who brought their pairs of drinks. Quickly, their table was completely filled with drinks as Harry was cornered by everyone who wanted a moment with him.

          “So, Harry, Auror training must be a cakewalk compared to fighting You-Know-Who...” Dane, a fellow trainee in his year, cooed as she batted her eyelashes in an unflattering manner.

          “I suppose...” Harry replied mechanically before sipping at his drink to avoid further conversation and to dull his fraying nerves. This was clearly not a good long-term plan as he was already feeling a bit tipsy. He drained the last of his drink and placed the tumbler down with a loud thud. Standing up, he could feel that his balance was a little off-kilter as the ground seemed to be moving beneath his feet. It was a sure sign that he had drank too much.

          “Hey, Caelum, I’ll… uh… I’ll head out back for a bit,” Harry whispered into his friend’s ear. “To get some fresh air out back.”

          Without waiting for a response, he walked past the ring of people that had long formed around their table and entered the hallway that led to the backdoor. Instead of going into the back alley, Harry turned left past the “Restricted access” sign and walked up the staircase that led to the rooftop. It was a place that the barkeeper Tom told him about when he wanted to escape some fanatic fans surrounding the Leaky Cauldron with no exits to escape through.

          When he reached the top landing, he noticed that the door that led to the private, outdoor balcony was ajar. Through the open doorway, he could see the view that overlooked a quieter section of Diagon Alley. Further in the distance was the iconic tilted marble rooftop of Gringotts, and beyond that, he could also catch a glimpse of Muggle London, where skyscrapers stood silently under the moonlit skies.

          Taking a step over the threshold, Harry’s left foot caught the leg of a brown, rattan chair. Twisting his body, he saw a round, French-style wrought iron table next to the chair. On it, a wand and an uncorked bottle of golden, shimmering liquid were placed.

          It was then that he finally noticed a man leaning against the wall in the dark corner with an empty crystal glass held loosely in his hand. It seemed that the man also noticed his arrival as his electric-blue eyes widened by a slight fraction.

          “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t think that someone would be here,” Harry muttered. Despite his best intention, the bitter and regretful tone managed to leak through.

          Harry was already mentally preparing himself to accept a one-minute speech of unequivocal gratitude and a potential request for an autograph when the other man twisted the corner of lips upwards in amusement. Then, he said drily, “You thought wrong then.”

          Harry blinked at the unexpected response as the other man stepped out of the shadows to reveal a handsome face. Despite looking like he was only in his late thirties, the man had a head of short and completely grey hair, which was brushed up into a small quiff with the sides trimmed.

          His face seemed familiar, but Harry could not place a finger on where he had seen the other man before.

          The stranger moved towards the door, and Harry, who was feeling guilty for his ill-willed presumptions, said immediately, “You don’t have to leave.”

          “Oh, I was not planning to,” the man chuckled as he nudged the rattan chair back into its original spot and sat down. Picking up the opened bottle of alcohol, he poured another two fingers into his glass and took a sip. Looking up at Harry’s slightly confused expression, he added, “I was here first, after all. If someone should leave, I suppose it would be you.”

          Harry blinked at the cheeky remark. The man’s words were not rooted in malice or disrespect but gentle teasing. However, few dared to attempt this against the saviour of the Wizarding World for obvious reasons...

          It was then that Harry finally realized he no longer remembered how a conversation with a stranger could unfold without it ending in some version of hero-worshipping. However, there was no way this man did not recognize him as Harry Potter. The fact that he treated him as an ordinary stranger and not some hero whose face was plastered on the Daily Prophet was surprisingly refreshing... and endearing.

          “You seem troubled,” the man said as he quirked an eyebrow. He picked up the wand and conjured up another glass and chair, silently offering his company and ear.

          “What makes you think so?” Harry countered lightly, but he sat down at the proffered chair, nonetheless.

          The stranger shrugged as he poured some Firewhisky into Harry’s glass. “When one prefers to converse with a stranger rather than to stay with his friends, there must be something weighing on his mind.”

          “I suppose that is a fair assessment,” Harry said as he took the glass. Tipping it at the man, he said, “To health.”

          “To health,” the stranger repeated as they both took a sip in shared silence.

          Harry felt the pleasant burn of the alcohol as it hit the tip of his tongue. However, unlike the regular Firewhisky, the burning sensation did not last. Instead, it quickly transformed into a warm, soothing balm that coated his tongue and throat.

          Picking up the unlabelled bottle, Harry examined the golden liquid inside while taking a second and larger sip.

          “I am glad you enjoy it,” the stranger chuckled at Harry’s obvious interest. He took the bottle and refilled Harry’s glass. “It is from my private collection. I doubt you can find something remotely similar available for purchase.”

          Harry brought the crystal glass to his lips and allowed the honeyed flavour to envelope his taste buds once more. The sensation was addictive, and despite knowing that he had drunk more than he should, Harry decided this Firewhisky was worth his future troubles.

          Looking at the other stranger over the rim of his glass with slightly glazed eyes, Harry asked curiously, “What is the occasion?”

          The stranger merely smiled tightly before responding with a silent sip. There was a hint of melancholy in his eyes, but Harry knew not to press the subject.

          They were strangers, after all.

          That thought triggered something inside Harry. Or perhaps it was the excellent alcohol. But regardless of the excuse, words escaped his lips before his mind could even react.

          “I died today. Not technically, since I am talking to you, but I was – for a moment – dead,” Harry revealed. The other man was visibly alarmed at the sudden admission, and Harry chuckled nervously. “It probably sounds like I’m mad –”

          “No, no,” the man responded. “I’ve heard stranger things yet. Yours seems like an intriguing story, and one that I would very much like to hear more of, if you would like to share, that is….”

          Harry eyed the other man carefully before he decided to pour himself more of the alcohol. He sunk into the chair and nursed his drink.

          “As I mentioned, my team was in a raid, and we encountered some Death Eaters. A Killing Curse struck me, and then, I found myself in a sort of dream – limbo, if you will – where I was offered a choice.”

          “What choice?” the stranger asked, intrigued.

          “Either return to the living world or have the chance to….” Harry searched for words in his mind to articulate his thoughts without revealing all the details. “… to finally have something I always yearned for.”

          The man hummed in surprise, “And you’ve foregone the latter option.”

          “Not exactly,” Harry said slowly. “I still have one more chance to choose. To be frank, I was very tempted to take the second option, but….”

          “But you weren’t ready to leave this world and everything in it behind without warning?”

          Harry nodded and sighed heavily.

          “My friends, my family, Hogwarts,” Harry listed. “There are still Death Eaters hiding across the country plotting to cause as much chaos as possible. Everything in Wizarding Britain is just beginning to recover. I couldn’t… I couldn’t just leave all of this –”

          “Will your decision endanger them - your loved ones - or cause them harm in any way?” the man interrupted softly.

          Harry paused for a moment before he shook his head.

          “Then what do you want?” Harry looked at the man, not comprehending the question. The man placed down his glass and turned towards Harry fully. Leaning in, he asked again, “You’ve listed everything under the skies as a reason to stay. Those are obligations and duties, not wants. So, what about you? What do you want?”

          Harry did not know what to say at the moment. With half-closed eyes, Harry turned his attention to the darkened skies and bright cityscape.

          What did he want?

          That was a simple question to answer, but it was just one that he preferred not to acknowledge. He knew already that locked in the deepest, the innermost part of his heart, was not the chance to meet his parents, or to save the world from Voldemort, but... but a simple desire to be part of a family...

          To love and be loved unconditionally by someone who shared his heritage and the unbreakable familial bond...

          Harry knew Molly loved him like he was one of her sons, but a traitorous, ungrateful part of his mind always wondered if he truly belonged -

          Harry broke his train of thoughts, feeling utterly ashamed. He picked up the bottle and poured its entirety into his glass before swallowing everything in one gulp. The pleasant warmth of the alcohol down Harry’s throat into his stomach felt liberating. 

          “It is worth it,” Harry gasped out, but his words rang hollow even to his ears. With a quiet, small voice, he added, “It has to be. I need to be grateful for everything I already have.”

          The stranger watched as the internal conflict raged across Harry’s face.

          “You should not feel guilty for pursuing your own happiness. This is your life, your choice. You should live for your purpose, not for others.”

          “I…” Harry paused. Deflecting, he stammered, “My friends, my family, I don’t want to abandon –”

          “For seventeen years, you’ve been fighting You-Know-Who. For your entire life, you’ve been living for and fighting for everyone else,” the man said as he placed a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder. He squeezed it gently and continued, “Isn’t it time for you to put yourself first? And to live for yourself, for once? If they are your true friends and family, I know they will respect your decision.”

          For a long moment, they stared at each other in a tension-filled silence, but a distant shout from deep inside the pub shook both men out of their stupor.

          The stranger cleared his throat uncomfortably. It was the first one he displayed a sense of uncertainty.

          “I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

          “No,” Harry muttered softly. “No, you haven’t.”

          The other man nodded to himself, seemingly trying to convince himself that was the truth.

          “What would you have done?” Harry asked softly. “If you were me?”

          “The second option,” the man replied lightly but firmly. He looked up at Harry and twisted his lips into a sad smile. “I don’t think I can ever live with the fact that I had stayed put when I had the chance to see -” the man caught himself before he cleared his throat hastily and continued, “- when I had the chance to have the thing I’ve always wanted.”

          There was a terrible sadness in the man’s words that stabbed deep into Harry’s soul. It felt like the same visceral pain of regret that frequently plagued Harry’s mind. In a twisted and perverse way, the knowledge of the stranger’s painful past endeared him to Harry even more. It was as if anyone who had lived through similar pain as Harry once did deserved to be trusted and protected.

          After a moment of heavy silence, the man’s lips twisted back into a slight grin as he commented, “You are placing an enormous amount of faith confiding in a stranger like me.”

          “You seem to be a decent fellow, and I’ve been told that I have a knack for choosing friends,” Harry chuckled. Then, he turned sombre as he said, “I would be deluding myself if I said I even have a modicum of privacy these days. Even if you ran to the Prophet with this story, I suppose it will just let them recycle the story of my supposed-mental breakdown for another tabloid heading.”

          “It will pass,” the man said gently. “One day, when the world does not need a hero anymore, people will forget about you. It might seem unimaginable now, but it will happen. Take it from someone who knows a thing or two about fame.”

          “Do I know you from somewhere?” Harry asked. He put down the empty glass on the table clumsily and held his hands out. Framing the man’s face between his fingers, he squinted his eyes at the man’s features before giving up. “I feel like I must know you from somewhere.”

          “I have sufficiently proven my point then,” the man laughed melodiously. “As I said, fame is fleeting. Mercifully so.”

          Through a hazy, sleepy gaze, Harry watched as the stranger picked up his wand and vanished everything on the table. He then stuffed the wand in his robe pocket and turned towards the door. Before leaving, he flashed Harry another friendly smile before saying, “I hope you will be able to figure out the conundrum.”

          “Thank you,” Harry said sincerely, if not a bit slurred.

           The man chuckled before he disappeared down the stairs. Harry did not know how long he sat in the chair feeling the cool night breeze against his warm, flushed cheeks while he pondered on the man’s advice. But then, he slowly noticed an urgent pat on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Caelum’s concerned expression as his voice echoed in his ears.

          “Hey Harry, you disappeared on us for a while there, mate,” Caelum said. “Is everything alright?”

          “It... it has been quite a difficult day,” Harry slurred. “I might head home.”

          He stood up only to feel the entire world spinning on its axis. 

          “I’ll see you home,” Caelum muttered as he caught Harry’s arm and swung it over his shoulder. As Harry stumbled down the staircase, he cast a final glance at the vacant balcony and wondered whether he imagined the entire conversation in his mind.

Chapter 3: Parting Confessions (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THREE

PARTING CONFESSIONS


 

December 5, 1998 (Saturday)

 

SHACKLEBOLT INSTALLED AS MINISTER FOR MAGIC

by E. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

Vows Sweeping Democratization of the Wizengamot

 

Ending months of speculation, the Acting Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt will be appointed to a full-term next Monday when his nomination will be formally ratified by the Wizengamot as expected...

 

***

 

          “Isn’t it time for you to put yourself first? And to live for yourself, for once?”

          The words of the unnamed stranger continued to reverberate in Harry’s mind for days and weeks to come. They flashed across his mind whenever he encountered the crazed fans, or received another batch of Ministry invitations, or celebrated the capture of the last of the Death Eaters. They also followed him into his nightly terrors of reliving the Battle of Hogwarts and the countless deaths within it.

          Harry initially thought he would enjoy life as he once did before his meeting with Death, but everything had changed. Now, everywhere he looked only served to remind him of the lost opportunity to seek out what he held most dearly and what had been missing in his life since he was born.

          The gaping hole of disconsolate loss that he was once able to keep under control was starting to unravel, thread by thread.

          After many soul-searching nights, Harry had finally identified the few significant reasons that stopped him from moving on. Therefore, he drew up a checklist that he thought, upon completion, would ease his conscience and allow him to take up Death’s offer without regret. He also supposed that completing that checklist would benefit his mental well-being, regardless of his ultimate decision.

          One of the items on Harry’s checklist was the capture of all the Death Eaters. Therefore, upon the news of Yaxley’s defeat under the hands of the Aurors, Harry decided that he would hand in his resignation letter to focus on completing his other goals.

          Harry strolled down the corridor lined with portraits of exemplary Aurors as he reached Robards’s office. Seeing the empty secretary desk, Harry walked up to the office door. Before he was able to knock, the door swung open slightly as the poorly-secured latch bolt pushed off the strike plate. Through the tiny sliver of space, Harry could hear Kingsley Shacklebolt’s distinctive voice from within the room.

          “... so you don’t believe the recent attacks at Dover were by Yaxley and Rosier?” the acting Minister questioned with a gentle, deep voice.

          There was a hesitant pause before Robards responded, “I do not believe that is the case, Kingsley. Something about these attacks does not make sense to me. They are too coordinated, well-thought-out, and so unlike anything we’ve seen before with You-Know-Who. All these Muggle deaths had no hints of magical foul play that we are accustomed to, yet the evidence shows that magic must have been used to enact those plans. It’s as if magic was used specifically to complement their very Muggle ways of murder.”

          Robards continued, “A train derailment that killed twenty when Muggle authorities said that the train was not scheduled to run. Dust cloud flash fire that killed ten and burnt hundreds when the festival was reportedly cancelled the day before due to poor weather conditions. A mass radiation poisoning with polonium, which is a highly restricted substance in the Muggle world. I hardly think that Yaxley, Rosier or the rest would care to be acquainted with the Muggle periodic table, let alone be well-versed enough in it to cause devastation in such a… mundane and non-magical way.”

          Alarmed by what he was hearing, Harry moved closer to hear the rest of the conversation.

          “Finally, my men have discovered something strange at every scene of the crime,” Robards said as Harry heard the sound of shuffling papers.

          Shacklebolt asked, “What does this mean?”

          “We believe the letters should spell out to be Prometheus,” Robards replied. “We found one letter of name magically imprinted at each of the eight related crime scenes. P. R. O. M. T. H. U. S. We believe it is a pseudonym used by the mastermind behind all the recent attacks. Whoever they are, they know they have our attention. They are toying with us and directly challenging our authority. To say this is unprecedented is a grand understatement, and -”

          “Mr Potter?”

          The call of his name startled Harry. He turned around to see the Robards’s secretary walking up towards him with questions in her eyes. He immediately schooled his expression and stepped away from the door as inconspicuously as possible.

          “I was looking for Robards,” Harry explained casually, flashing the secretary a weary smile.

          “Oh, I’m afraid he is in a meeting with the Minster right now,” the secretary brushed her hair around her ear coyly. Seemingly eager to please the other man, she added quickly, “But I am sure they are finishing up soon. You are more than welcome to wait here. Can I get you anything? A coffee or tea, perhaps?”

          “I’m perfectly alright,” Harry said, flashing her another pinched smile and willing her to just leave him alone.

          “Of course, Mr Potter,” the secretary said, her smile faltering slightly before she sat down at her desk and started to cast cursory glances at him from time to time. With someone so close by, Harry did not risk another eavesdropping session. Therefore, he resigned himself to looking at the portraits around him.

          He walked further down the hall away from the secretary and stopped in front of the portrait of Charlus Potter, who was unfortunately killed during the First Wizarding War. 

          “Charlus,” Harry greeted the familiar portrait warmly as he walked up to the man who had an uncanny resemblance to Harry but without the green eyes and spectacles that framed his face.

          “Harry,” the man leaned forward from his chair and peered at Harry. “How have you been?”

          “I’ve been well,” Harry smiled.

          “I’ve heard that you found yourself in a bit of trouble last month,” the elder Potter said amusedly. “I hope you are not punished too severely?”

          “It was my first field-op as a trainee, and we ended up dueling against four Dark wizards on the most-wanted list,” Harry said.

          Charlus’s eyebrows rose up to his forehead as he processed the information, but then, his face morphed into a big grin as he laughed out heartily. “Splendid! And I presume it ended in success, seeing that you lived to tell the tale!”

          Harry could not help but be moved by the infectious positivity emanating from the portrait. Grinning slightly, Harry nodded, “I think we broke some sort of record for the most curses dodged on a first field-op.”

          Charlus chuckled as Harry heard the door open behind him. Turning around, Harry saw Kingsley walk out of the room with Robards close behind.

          “Harry,” Kingsley greeted warmly. He glanced up at Charlus’s portrait and gave him a curt nod.

          “Kingsley, how’s business?”

          Kingsley and Robards exchanged an indecipherable look before saying, “The usual. Feuding Lords in the Wizengamot and a Wizarding World waiting to be rebuilt from the ground up. I would like to talk more, but I have a meeting to attend now. So, I will leave you two now.”

          “Goodbye,” Harry said as the two Aurors watched the Minister stroll out of view.

          “So, what is it, Potter?” Robards grunted as he narrowed his eyes at the letter in Harry’s hands. 

          Harry held out the letter and confirmed the other man’s suspicion. “Robards, I wish to tender my resign-”

          “I will not be approving this, Potter,” Robards interrupted, moustache quivering. 

          “You cannot stop me,” Harry said mildly as he tried to stuff the letter into Robards’s hand. However, the other man swatted his offending arm away and crossed his own in a huff.

          “You bet I will try my hardest to block this -”

          “Even Voldemort couldn’t stop me. What makes you think that you can?” Harry teased as the man directed a deathly glare at him. Harry then swung an arm around Robards’s shoulders and comforted, “I’ve thought this through, Robards. I know what I am doing.”

          “And that’s what I’m most afraid of,” Robards muttered. He snatched the letter from Harry’s grasp and said, “I will be holding on to this, but you - young man - will be approved for a three-month leave. After that, we’ll talk about this nonsense again.”

          Robards walked back into his office as Harry called out, “You are merely delaying the inevitable.”

          However, Harry only received the sound of Robards’s office door slamming shut as a response.

          Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry turned to leave as his eyes glanced at a portrait nearby that prompted him to take a second look. It was a man with silvery grey hair and electric blue eyes who sat motionlessly. Like the portrait of a woman in chestnut brown hair next to him, the lack of animation in these portraits suggested that the subjects were still alive.

          Harry’s eyes widened as he realized the man painted in this picture was a younger version of the man he met on the night of his encounter with Death.

          So that man was an ex-Auror, Harry realized. 

          Curious, Harry turned around to ask the secretary about the man. However, he found the secretary’s starstruck gaze on him, and it instantly reminded him of something the other man said that night.

          “As I said, fame is fleeting. Mercifully so.”

          Perhaps the man wanted to leave his past behind him. And the least Harry could do was to abide by that wish, especially when he was in pursuit of that very thing as well.

          He gave the portrait a final look before he walked out of the office.

 

***

 

          “Don’t you have Method in the Mad-Eye with Ron today?” Hermione asked as the two friends walked down the snow-packed forest trails near Hogsmeade. “He has been dreading this class for the entirety of last month.”

          Unlike Ron and Harry, Hermione decided to return to Hogwarts to complete her seventh-year studies. Professor McGonagall, now Head of Hogwarts, had allowed these returning “eighth-year” students to travel to Hogsmeade whenever they desired, beyond the constraints of the planned Hogsmeade weekends.

          It would have been exponentially more preferable to be huddled indoors at the Three Broomsticks. However, their celebrity status had rendered it quite impossible to chat without someone interrupting them every minute or trying to eavesdrop in their private conversations.

          “I quit,” Harry confessed softly before hiding behind his steaming hot mug of Butterbeer. He could feel Hermione’s penetrating gaze as she tried to glean any information scrutinizing his expression.

          Instead of a quick rebuke that Harry expected, he received an encouraging smile.

          “I’m happy for you, Harry,” Hermione breathed out as a thick cloud of vapour appeared from her mouth and floated up into the grey, cloud-laden skies.

          Harry blinked in confusion as Hermione explained, “After the Ministry trials, you’ve jumped straight into the Auror training program. We were all worried that you were distracting yourself from the grief and pain, but we understood it was something that everyone had to work through on their own and at their own time.

          “It was Yaxley’s capture, wasn’t it?” Hermione prompted. “It was his capture that allowed you to quit.”

          Harry felt a lump was forming in his throat as he nodded. Hermione placed her mitten-covered hand on Harry’s shoulder and guided him to look at her.

          “Harry,” she said sincerely, “I’m glad that you finally feel freed from that responsibility.”

          Harry looked away into the icy world around them as he felt the heat of tears welling up in his eyes. He took a shuddering breath, then a second and third one, until he trusted himself to speak.

          “So, what’s next?” Hermione asked. Harry turned to face the direction of Hogwarts. Despite not being able to see it at this location, Harry could picture the castle in all of its splendour and also at its most desolate state.

          “Finish rebuilding Hogwarts,” Harry replied simply.

 

***

 

          “On my count,” Harry announced for everyone to hear. He adjusted his grip on his trusty Holly wand and trained it firmly on the large mound of broken glasses in front of him. “One! Two! Three!”

          “Reparo totalum! ” Multiple voices shouted out alongside him as the shards rose to form several magnificent columns sparkling under the auburn sun. They arched into a singular point as the broken glass started to fuse together. Slowly, the millions of shards became hundreds of coloured panes and, finally, one complete window.

          To his left, the team of twenty alumni led by Neville and Ginny shouted in unison, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

          The giant stained glass panel slowly levitated upwards into the air and was directed to a large, gaping hole in the castle wall nearby.

          “Easy. Easy,” Ron called out as the panel reached the designated location marked by flaming crosses. “Stop!” 

          Far in the distance, Hermione focused her attention on the wall and muttered a complex spell while constantly twisting her wand in a sweeping, circular motion. There was a slight rumbling as the wall started to rearrange itself, brick by brick, until it formed a hole with a shape identical to the glass panel they were trying to reinstall. Satisfied with her work, Hermione wiped her forehead and gave Ron a curt nod.

          Pointing his wand at his throat, Ron announced, “Neville, bring the glass in!”

          “Gently now,” Ginny gritted out as everyone on his team focused all of their energy and attention towards pushing the panel into the designated space. It was a delicate process, but the glass slotted itself into the hole seamlessly after several long minutes.

          “Hold steady for just a tad longer, everyone!” Neville called out, not risking a glance away from his task.

          “Epoximise!” Hannah Abbott shouted. The sealant around the borders of the glass panel promptly merged with the thick, granite stone wall.

          “Now, everyone lift their Levitation Charms slowly,” Luna called out melodiously from behind Harry. One by one, each member of the Levitation team cancelled their spells. When Neville, the last remaining caster, lifted his charm, the entire assembly stopped and stared at the stained glass for any signs of movement. After several seconds, a slow crescendo of claps turned into cheers and laughter.

          Harry laughed as he hugged Ginny and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

          “Nice work, everyone,” Hermione smiled as she made a point to check the last box on her sheet and to tear it away from her clipboard.

          “So, there’s now, what? Everything else to fix inside?” Ron asked as he gave Oliver Wood a thumbs up. His words prompted a quick rebuke in the form of a painful smack on the head.

          “Ron!” Hermione scolded as Ron rubbed his head gingerly.

          “What?! I’m just saying -”

          The murderous glare from Hermione caused Ron to swallow whatever he planned to say.

          Despite the entire Wizarding community coming together to repair Hogwarts over last summer, much of the ancient structure remained in ruins for most of this school year, especially the less frequented parts. Therefore, Harry devoted every waking moment of his time to help repair the castle he once called home. On weekends, his friends and classmates also volunteered their time outside of work to help rebuild the school. It was a daunting task, but Harry was proud to say that they have made a lot of progress since they first started.

           Now, his home was restored to its former glory, and Harry could feel an invisible burden finally lifting off his shoulders.

          It was only fitting that they finished the rebuilding on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and to reclaim a dreadful day in history with the celebration of resiliency and rebirth. While there was still a long list of to-dos before the work was truly complete, as Ron mentioned, this was a major milestone and a moment worth celebrating. 

          The joyous group made their way back to the bustling Great Hall where Professor McGonagall was directing an army of house-elves to place the finishing touches on the lavish decorations for this afternoon’s celebration.

          “We’ve finished reinstalling the last of the windows on the north side of the West Tower,” Harry reported.

          “Congratulations, Mr Potter. You have been most instrumental in leading this rebuilding effort. Hogwarts will be forever indebted to your services.” Glancing at the rest of the group, Professor McGonagall said, “I will say this every time I see you all. Thank you for being here and giving your services to the school.”

          “Just doing our part, Professor,” Seamus said with a grin. “It’s nothing.”

          “Hardly so, Mr Finnigan,” McGonagall said with a smile. “Now, everybody, please do enjoy a well-deserved lunch and some rest before the real celebrations begin.”

          As the group started to splinter off, Harry turned to Ginny and said, “I’ll join in a bit. I have something I would like to talk to the Professor about.”

          Ginny gave him a questioning look, but Harry patted her on the hand reassuringly. He walked up to Professor McGonagall and, with a slight hesitation, asked, “Professor, I was wondering if I can access your office to speak with Professor Dumbledore’s portrait.”

          The Headmistress arched her eyebrow curiously.

          “You are always welcome to do so, Mr Potter. But is there anything… that I can offer you advice on?”

          “No, Professor,” Harry gulped. “I... I just have something that I would like to get off my chest...”

          Professor McGonagall’s eyes softened at the words. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she said, “Of course, Mr Potter. Just know that if you have anything you wish to talk about, my door is always open.”

          “I know, Professor,” Harry said. “Thank you.”

          “Remember to join the celebrations this afternoon,” she reminded him. 

          “Of course.”

          “Then, off you go.”

          Professor McGonagall gave Harry an encouraging smile before she walked back to the Great Hall.

          As Harry made his way up to the Headmistress’s office, he reminisced about all the years he had spent roaming these halls. The imprinted memories of laughter, tears, sweat, and bloodshed flitted across his eyes with every step he took.

          Hogwarts was his home, his refuge, and his sanctuary.

          But why should it be any of those things but a school?

         It was now that Harry finally gained clarity of his actions for the first time. He was merely deluding himself into thinking that he had yet to choose, when in fact, he had long made his decision, and everything he had done was to work towards this ultimate goal - to give himself closure and permission to move on.

          In what seemed like both an eternity and an instant, Harry arrived in front of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmistress’s office.

          “May I?” Harry asked the gargoyle.

          “Yes,” the gargoyle said as it leapt to the side to allow him passage. Harry climbed up the spiral stairs and entered the large, circular room. Gone were all the intricate silver and brass instruments. Instead, the walls were lined with scrolls upon scrolls filled with various diagrams and complex mathematics favoured by the current occupant’s interest in Transfiguration.

          However, Harry was most interested in the large portrait that sat directly behind the chair in the centre of the room. In the frame, Harry recognized the image of one of the greatest wizards the world has ever seen leaning against the back of his chair, snoring softly.

          “Professor Dumbledore,” Harry called out. However, the portrait did not respond. Shouting louder this time, Harry repeated, “Professor Dumbledore!”

          This time, Dumbledore stirred as his bleary eyes slowly blinked open.

          “Harry, my dear boy,” Dumbledore greeted jovially as he moved to sit upright. Harry looked into the bright eyes behind the half-moon spectacles and felt the gratitude and pride emanating from within. However, the gaze that once felt like a soothing balm now weighed like heavy shackles pinning him to the ground.

          Training his eyes on the stone floor, Harry said softly, “Professor, I had a conversation with Death, and he offered me a chance to return to the past where I could finally meet my parents. And I’ve... I’ve...”

          “And you’ve decided that you will take that option?”

          “Yes,” Harry muttered softly. “The last of the Death Eaters have been rounded up. Most of Hogwarts have been rebuilt. I... I think that I am finally at peace with my decision. All that is left is to tell my friends. Even though they would not even realize it if I decided to leave unannounced, I think I owe them an explanation. And I... I think I need closure before I can truly move on.”

          “Harry,” Dumbledore called out gently. When Harry did not respond, the ancient wizard repeated his call, “Please look at me.” 

          Harry steeled himself mentally as he looked up to face the portrait. 

          “I want you to know that I am proud of you,” Dumbledore said with a beaming smile on his face. “You have always been so brave.”

          Releasing a breath that he did not know he held, Harry gasped in relief. Feeling a little freer, Harry admitted, “I am here to say my final goodbye.”

          “And I wish you the best of luck on your next great adventure.”

          “Any words of advice, sir?” Harry asked.

          Dumbledore’s face turned sombre as the twinkle in his eyes dimmed.

          “I have no more lessons to impart on you, Harry. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever deserved the right to teach you,” Dumbledore said quietly. Closing his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh before continuing, “I am a flawed man, Harry. A terribly, terribly flawed man. I would like to think that I became wiser, as one ought to after roaming this earth for more than a century and witnessing three wars in the process... but even then, at the end of my life, I was not half the man you are now, Harry.”

          “Professor...”

          Dumbledore raised his hand, and Harry fell silent.

          “The Dumbledore that you had known for all this time... he was not the same person in the past,” the portrait said. “That Dumbledore, he was prideful, arrogant, hypocritical... and so, so naïve.”

          Dumbledore opened his teary eyes and whispered, “My only wish is when our paths cross eventually that you do not judge me too harshly.”

          Harry gulped and could only nod.

          “Then off you go, my dear boy.”

          Dumbledore gave Harry a final, serene smile before his eyelids started to droop. As Harry left the office, the portrait of Dumbledore had drifted back to sleep as the gentle snores filled the empty room once more.

          By the time Harry returned to the Great Hall, the celebration for the completion of Hogwarts’s rebuilding efforts was well underway. Donning his Cloak of Invisibility, Harry traversed the crowd filled with familiar faces, old and new. He quickly spotted Hermione, Ron, and Ginny nearby and walked up. 

          “Follow me. Bring Ginny,” Harry whispered between Ron and Hermione, startling the two. However, they quickly recovered from the shock and did as told. 

          Harry led the group to an unused classroom on the third floor and shrugged off his Cloak.

          “Why did you bring us here?” Ron asked, confused, as he looked around the room for clues.

          Facing away from his friends, Harry finally steeled his resolve before turning around to face the trio. Rubbing his hands together, he said, “I... I have something to announce...”

          The intense gazes from his friends caused Harry’s breath to hitch. It was even more difficult than he had anticipated.

          “Harry, you’re making us all nervous,” Ginny said worriedly. “What is it?”

          “What is it that you want to tell, Harry?” implored Hermione.

          Harry closed his eyes and took in another calming breath. Then, he looked up at his friends once more. Feeling the initial bravo fading rapidly, Harry spoke quickly, “You can probably remember that I had an accident during my first field operation last year -” They nodded, “The truth is that the Killing Curse struck me, and I died a second time -”

          “You what? ” Ginny shouted, but Harry continued.

          “- and I returned to a state of limbo, much like what happened in the Forbidden Forest,” Harry said quickly. “And Death offered me a choice to either come back or to go back in time and meet my parents.”

          There was a stunned silence as everyone eyed each other nervously, not knowing how to react.

          “Well...” Ron broke the silence first. Attempting to lighten the mood, he said in a false cheery tone, “Since you are here standing in front of us right now, Harry, we know exactly what you chose to do. Right...?”

          Ginny merely continued to glare at Harry angrily, but Harry soon detected a hint of grim understanding in Hermione’s eyes.

          “Right?” Ron tried again as he nudged Ginny on the shoulder, prompting her to agree with him.

          “No,” Hermione whispered. In the silence of the room, however, her voice boomed throughout the space. “That’s not what Harry is trying to tell us.”

          Ron’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

          It was then that the answer occurred to Ginny as well. She covered her mouth and gasped out in shock.

          “What is it?” Ron asked with a hint of fear creeping into his words. “What’s going on?”

          “Harry, you cannot leave us behind,” Ginny hissed. “You cannot leave me.

          “What do you mean Harry is going to leave us?” Ron asked. “He just told us he chose to stay and -”

          As Ron’s eyes widened at the implications, Harry dipped his head as shame, agony, and pain now washed over his body with each word he uttered. He gasped out, “I... I have decided to go back... I’m sorry...”

          He could hear a muffled cry, a series of rapid footsteps, and then a loud slam of the door. Harry looked up and found Ron staring at him with an incredulous and disgusted look. The other man shook his head in denial before backing away from Harry and running out the door after Ginny. Helplessly, Harry looked towards Hermione, who looked back with tearful eyes.

          Harry turned away and slammed his fist against the stone wall as he cursed himself for inflicting so much grief and pain on his friends for his personal gains. Angry, frustrated tears started to well up in his eyes as he tried to blink them away to no avail.

          A few moments later, there was a soft, tentative touch on his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw Hermione smiling back at him as a single drop of tear streaked down her cheek.

          “It’s alright,” Hermione whispered as she patted his shoulder soothingly. “It’s alright.”

          Her words struck something inside of Harry as he pulled her into a crushing hug and allowed the tears to flow uninhibited.

          “Ron is just being a bonehead,” Hermione said wetly after Harry’s sob subsided. “And Ginny, well... that’s a completely different situation...”

          “I know,” Harry mumbled miserably as he eyed the empty doorway where the Weasleys stormed off.

          “I think I have an idea about how you feel right now, Harry. I am not suggesting that the two situations are comparable, but I felt horrible when I Oblivated my parents. It scarred me mentally and in a way that I don’t know if I will ever fully recover from.”

          Harry nodded silently.

          “Only now, you are me in this scenario,” she explained. “With Ron, Ginny, and I as my parents, and... and the fact that you will never reverse the Memory charm on us...”

          “But that was different,” Harry protested immediately. “You did it to protect them from Voldemort. You did it so you could help me hunt for Horcruxes. Your reasons were selfless. But mine? My reason is pure selfishness -”

          “Harry James Potter!” Hermione said firmly as she pulled back from the embrace to glare at Harry. Her eyes flashed with anger behind the welled-up tears. “You cannot say this about yourself. You are the most selfless person I have ever met. You were eleven when you were forced to face Voldemort out of your own volition. You were fourteen when you were tortured and witnessed the death of a friend. You were fifteen when you lost your one and only family. You were seventeen when you were burdened with the role of saving the world. Haven’t you made enough sacrifices?”

          Hermione put her hands on Harry’s shoulders and shook him slightly, imploring him to understand her words.

          “You, Harry, of all people, deserve this,” she said fiercely. “You deserve to get to know your parents, to grow up with them, to live with them. And not only your parents, but Sirius, Remus, and everyone that you’ve never had a chance to know properly.”

          “Hermione...” Harry gasped as his best friend hugged him again.

          “I know you’ve made up your mind already,” Hermione whispered. “And I know you have beaten yourself up many times before today. I will not be helping you do that, Harry. Mark my words.”

          “You are amazing, Hermione. You know that, right?” Harry chuckled wetly.

          “I could always use some reminding,” Hermione returned with a teasing grin. Then, her smile disappeared as uncertainty crept across her features. With a small voice, she asked, “Promise me that you will find me and be friends with me again?” 

          “Of course,” Harry nodded forcefully. “And hopefully without needing to fight a troll in the girl’s bathroom.”

          Harry felt Hermione’s chuckle as they remained in that tight embrace for a long while, basking in each other’s warmth. When Hermione was finally ready to release him, she wiped the glistening tears on her face. There was now an air of calm authority in her demeanour, and Harry instantly felt more reassured.

          “So Harry, tell me exactly what Death told you.”

          Hermione helped Harry tease out clues from Death’s enigmatic words for the next hour. There was not much to uncover, but both of them were confident that Harry would likely return to a time that just preceded the First Wizarding War.

          “As much as it pains me to say this,” Hermione winced. “You must stay put and keep a low profile until you are able to destroy all the Horcruxes. Suppose you are indeed returning to the beginning of the First Wizarding War. In that case, there is a high likelihood that the Horcruxes might not be at the locations where we last found them, especially for the diary and the Hufflepuff Cup. Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange would have just joined the Death Eaters, and I doubt that Voldemort would have entrusted these new recruits with his Horcruxes right off the bat. Even the locket’s location is uncertain as Voldemort might not have created the Cave yet...

          “It would also be risky to seek them out or to remove them from their hiding spots prematurely as Voldemort could still be actively checking on them. Perhaps Ravenclaw’s diadem is the only exception as Voldemort would never dare infiltrate Hogwarts. But if he finds out that someone knows of his greatest secret….” Hermione shivered. “He was supposedly at the peak of his powers then, and you... You will have your family and friends to protect...” 

          “So what should I do then?” Harry asked exasperatedly. “I thought I was meant to change things. Now, you are telling me not to do anything?”

          “That’s not what I’m suggesting, Harry,” Hermione said patiently. “What I’m saying is that you must do what is strictly necessary to defeat Voldemort and that you must do it with clinical precision. Meddling with time is nasty business, even when you are the Master of Death. Your actions could cause ripples in the timeline that will forever change the trajectory of history and with unexpected consequences.

          “And also...” Hermione flushed as if she was embarrassed, “... I believe that some things are meant to happen, no matter how hard you try to fight against it. Promise me not to be such a hothead, alright?”

          Harry nodded as Hermione gave him an encouraging squeeze on the arm.

          Admittedly, Harry did not put much thought into what he was going to do once he returned. But after talking to Hermione, he realized how woefully unprepared he was. 

          “I should’ve told you earlier,” Harry admitted. “We could have discussed our plans much earlier.”

          “That, you should have,” Hermione said teasingly as they walked out of the classroom. “But it is not like you will disappear tomorrow. It is not too late to start preparing now.”

          “And what should I do about Ron and Ginny?” Harry asked as a sinking feeling pooled in his heart.

          “Give them some time,” Hermione said. “They will come around.”

          Harry nodded half-heartedly.

          “Are you going back to the party?” Hermione asked. 

          “I don’t think so... I might walk to Hogsmeade and just... clear my mind a little,” Harry admitted as Hermione nodded understandingly. “How about you?”

          “I will head back. People would find it a tad strange that the Golden trio is missing completely.”

          “Thank you,” Harry said with utmost gratitude as he watched Hermione disappear down the staircase. 

          Harry trod down the familiar path to Hogsmeade and wandered around the peripheries of the town. After a long while, he found himself passing by Hog’s Head. Despite becoming a tourist attraction now due to its prominent role in evacuating the students of Hogwarts during the war, the inn managed to retain its decrepit aesthetics: opaque windows coated with thick layers of dust, torn moth-infested rags waving in the wind, and the faded ink on rotting signs.

          “Aberforth,” Harry called out as he entered the inn. The establishment was void of patrons as most people were likely attracted to the celebration happening at Hogwarts.

          “Harry Potter,” the large man grunted as he emerged from the back room. “What brings you here?”

          “Just reminiscing about the past,” Harry spoke the half-truth. “And I was seeing if you can serve me something strong.”

          “A dangerous pastime, that is,” a voice called out from behind. “To relive the past and to do it drunk.”

          Harry turned around and found himself face-to-face with the stranger he had met at the Leaky Cauldron many moons before.

Chapter 4: At World's End (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FOUR

AT WORLD'S END


 

          The stranger looked at him with recognition in his eyes before casually walking past him to the bar.

          “Aberforth,” the stranger greeted as sat down on a stool in front of the bar casually. He then placed down a full bottle of the Firewhisky that Harry was all too well-acquainted with. “I think Mr Potter will just take an empty glass. I will need one as well.”

          Aberforth merely grunted again and placed down two glasses on the counter.

          “If you two don’t need anything else, I will head out to run a couple of errands,” the barkeeper said.

          “Thank you, Aberforth,” the older man said as Aberforth walked out of the pub. The stranger proceeded to pour a liberal amount of alcohol into each glass before turning to look at Harry. With an eased smirk, the man asked, “Were you waiting for a written invitation?” 

          “As they say, ‘stranger danger,’” Harry replied airily as he sat down on the stool beside him and picked up the glass. “I should exercise more caution.”

          “I believe it is a tad late for that,” the older man laughed as he turned his entire body sideways to face Harry. Seeing that Harry did not make a move to drink, he leaned forward and clinked their glasses together.

          “To health,” he said alone before knocking back his drink.

          After finishing, the man exhaled a deep breath of contentment before he began to pour himself a second drink.

          “So, what has come of your conundrum since last time?” the man asked, eyeing Harry curiously.

          “You know, I still don’t know anything about you,” Harry said, ignoring the other man’s question completely. “Not even your last name.”

          “Fawley.”

          “Fawley?” Harry parroted thoughtlessly. He was somehow expecting it would be a challenge to pry that information from the man. Therefore, the sudden revelation destabilized him.

          “That’s what I just said,” the other man, Fawley, grinned. “Now, my turn. What’s your last name?”

          “You know who I am. And you’ve said my name not a minute ago.”

          “Humour me.”

          Harry rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “Name’s Potter. Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

          Fawley grinned at the response. 

          “So, now that we are on equal footing, Potter. Can you answer my previous question?” Fawley drawled.

          Harry decided he was too sober for this conversation. He knocked back his entire drink and gestured for Fawley to refill it.

          “Yes, and I have decided to choose the second option.”

          The other man did not seem surprised by Harry’s answer. He smiled and nodded approvingly, “I had a feeling you would.”

          “But my friends... well, one of my best friends and my girlfriend -” Harry paused as he started to feel incredibly stupid for not just using their names as it would have been much easier. Everyone knew who Ron and Ginny were anyways. “ - they did not take the news well, and I don’t know what to do.”

          “I’m sorry to hear that,” Fawley said, sounding genuinely regretful. “I hope they do come around and support your decision.”

          “I can only hope,” Harry grimaced as he sipped on his second glass. “But honestly, I would like to thank you for your words of advice last time. I think... that you brought some much-needed perspective.”

          “I’m glad I was of help,” Fawley smiled softly. “But anyone could have told you the same thing. It was not that insightful.”

          “Yes, they could’ve. But only you did.”

          Fawley blinked at the admission, looking as if he wasn’t sure how to react. He ultimately settled with an appreciative smile on his face. Then, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

          “So, you are clearly moping and we cannot have that,” Fawley declared. “Do you want me to counsel you or distract you?”

          “Distract, I suppose,” Harry said as he took another sip out of his glass.

          “Then let’s take turns asking each other questions,” Fawley suggested. “And we can say pass and take a shot if we don’t want to answer it.”

          “Is this all a ploy so you can get more information out of me and run to the Prophet?” Harry teased.

          “And to consider that I either learn secrets about you or drink this excellent Firewhisky, it does make one wonder…” Fawley replied readily with a mirroring smirk. “I’ll let you have the first question.”

          “Why did you quit the Aurors?” Harry asked, recalling Fawley’s portrait hanging in the office.

          Fawley’s expression tensed up before it relaxed once more.

          “And here I thought I was a complete stranger to you,” he said airily. “As for the answer to your question… I didn’t.” Fawley tugged at his collar uncomfortably under Harry’s gaze before continuing, “My turn. What is the one secret that you have never told anyone?”

          Harry considered for a long while. He eyed his drink and wondered whether he should just avoid the question altogether. But the thought that he was soon leaving this world behind and that none of his actions would be of consequence prompted him to answer.

          “Before the arrival of my first-ever Hogwarts letter, I lived in a cupboard beneath the staircase for eleven years.”

          Harry deliberately looked out into the streets and hid behind his glass, fully anticipating the other man’s shock.

          “That’s… that’s horrifying,” Fawley gasped after a long moment of shock.

          “It’s all in the past now,” Harry said, smiling tightly, as he took a large gulp of alcohol. “I saw your portrait hanging on the wall at the Auror Office. What was it for?”

          “You’re really curious about my time as an Auror, aren’t you?”

          Harry shrugged. “I’m known for being stubborn. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

          Fawley sighed heavily before he answered, “Right after the conclusion of the First Wizarding War, a fellow Auror and I uncovered a conspiracy within the Ministry. So, what is your favourite breakfast item?”

          “I was not expecting that question,” Harry admitted.

          “Wanted to keep you on your toes.”

          “That, you did. Fried toast, but I also crave baked beans from time to time,” Harry hummed. Trying for a different line of questions, he asked,  “Tell me about your family.”

          Unlike before, Fawley’s expression closed off entirely at the question. He quietly picked up his glass and drank the entire content within it. Without missing a beat, he then asked, “What do you enjoy doing when you are alone?” 

          “Another question that no one has ever asked me before,” Harry noted. “Flying on my Firebolt, minus the crazy fans stalking me on their own brooms.”

          “That bad, huh.”

          “It is entertaining to watch them struggle to keep up with me,” Harry laughed. “But it becomes a pain when they inevitably fall off their brooms and need saving. The trouble is not worth the few laughs.”

          Fawley chuckled. “I can imagine.”

          “You ride?” 

          “Is that your question for me?” Fawley asked, arching a brow.

          Harry shrugged. “Why not?”

          “I do, but let’s just say I’m the crazed fan to your Harry Potter in that scenario.”

          “That bad?”

          “We can arrange a time so you can see for yourself.”

          “I’ll take you up on that offer one day.”

          “So, why the Firebolt?” Fawley asked. “There are much better brooms on the market nowadays.”

          “It was the same model as the one my godfather gave me.”

          “Sirius Black,” Fawley breathed out as Harry nodded silently. Sensing the change in mood, Fawley changed topics and asked, “So, I’m curious. You’ve chosen the second option. What is the game plan? Do you need to labour for it or do you just… have it, whatever your desire is…?”

          “Well, that is an interesting question because I haven’t thought about it that much until today.”

          Fawley stared at Harry as if he had lost his mind, but then, something shifted in his eyes as if something suddenly became apparent to him.

          “I always forget that you Gryffindors tend to rush into situations without a proper plan,” Fawley chuckled. His words did not match Harry’s expectation, considering that he saw the man’s portrait hanging in the Auror Office.

          “Which House were you in?” Harry asked immediately. “Wait, you went to Hogwarts, right?”

          “I went to Hogwarts, alright. But, pick your guess.”

          Fawley wriggled his eyebrows enigmatically as Harry pondered on the question.

          “Were you a... Hufflepuff?”

          “A good guess, but no.”

          “A... Ravenclaw?” Harry edged out slowly.

          “No,” the man said as he shook his head. “I’m a Slytherin.”

          “Really?” Harry gasped out incredulously.

          The other man chuckled at his reaction.

          “What? Do I not fit the bill for a typical Slytherin?” the man challenged mildly.

          Flustered and abashed, Harry said, “Well, I admit I still have trouble with my biases and preconception of what a Slytherin should be, and some of which are based on my... unpleasant experiences during school, not that this excuses me entirely...”

          “It’s alright,” Fawley said kindly before he turned to stare into his glass. Harry noted a deep sadness in his eyes as he spoke up again, “The Slytherin House... it is not a kind place for the weak and the powerless. Those who dared to challenge you in school were heirs of important, ancient, pureblood families. The House was their playground where they could get away with many terrible things. I, unfortunately, as a half-blood, was not one of them.”

          “And you are better off because of it,” Harry argued fiercely. “Those people, spoilt and drunk with power, were easily manipulated and used as tools by Voldemort.”

          The man’s lips curled into a cruel sneer as he said, “Am I truly better off, though?”

          At the man’s bitter tone, Harry hesitated.

          “What... What do you mean?”

          Fawley glanced at Harry and said cuttingly, “Did you know how difficult it was for me to fight my way into the Auror Academy with the stigma of being Slytherin during the First Wizarding War? Did you know that no matter how hard I tried to prove myself, no one ever entrusted me with anything more than the meagre, paperboy tasks? Did you know that... that despite all my efforts to undermine You-Know-Who while I was still an Auror under his reign, I was fired the moment he was defeated the second time around? I suppose it was because I was a Slytherin who worked in the Ministry during the War that I was deemed unfit to join the rebuilding process.”

          “But... but your portrait, it stills hangs on the wall -”

          “Oh, so what? It just means they decided it was fit to hang it up on the wall again,” Fawley spat scathingly. “What’s the narrative this year? A show of solidarity? A call for unity? An invocation for a less divided society?”

          Heaving angrily, the man’s eyes bored into Harry’s, demanding an answer. However, Harry could not supply one. Then, the man had finally seemed to realize that himself as the anger in his eyes tapered off and was replaced by a tired resignation.

          “I... I do apologize for my unwarranted outburst,” Fawley muttered as he downed the entire content of his glass. “It was unkind of me...”

          “No, no,” Harry said as he took the bottle and refilled the glasses. “I would be angry if I were in your position… And you’re surprisingly... well-balanced for someone whose life is marred with tragedies…”

          “Cheers to that,” Fawley said as they clinked their glasses together. “But perhaps it’s also because I’ve finally learnt to give up on this fight that I will never win.”

          “You must never give up,” Harry implored. “Even in the darkest hours of Voldemort’s reign, I dared to hope because I had to fight for everyone I love. And see what happened? So, never give up.”

          Fawley merely responded with a wistful smile before looking down in his glass. Twisting his wrist, the alcohol in his glass rolled around the edge, shimmering in a golden hue. As quiet as the softest breeze, he whispered, “I have nothing worth fighting for.”

          Harry wanted to rebut the dreadful idea immediately. However, his words died in his mouth as he turned and caught a glimpse of the man through the cracks of the deceiving veneer of ease and joy. In front of Harry was a man who was haunted by a lifetime’s worth of broken dreams and unspeakable pain. His lustreless, despondent eyes stared at the decrepit, worn wooden boards unseeingly as he mindlessly tipped the glistening liquid past his inert lips. But that moment passed fleetingly as the impenetrable walls was erected once more. Then, the man turned towards Harry with an effortless grin on his face and an unsettling sense of serenity.

          “Harry!” Ginny’s voice cut through the silence as the door behind them slammed open.

          Harry turned just in time to be enveloped in a tight hug. Over her shoulder, he could see Ron walking in at a more restrained pace. He looked at Harry as he twisted his lips into an apologetic and rueful grin.

          “Hermione told us you were at Hogsmeade,” Ron muttered softly. “Took us a while to track you down.”

          “I’m sorry, Harry,” Ginny gasped out. “We should have never run out on you like that.”

          “It’s alright,” Harry said as he pressed a soft kiss on Ginny’s head. Instead of anger or frustration, he mainly felt relief and joy. “I’m glad that you are not mad at me...”

          “How could we?” Ginny said as she focused her gaze on Harry’s chest. Shakily, she said, “You’ve lost so much already. It’s... it’s about time that you finally get something that you want...”

          A tiny sob escaped her lips as she moved to crash her lips into Harry’s.

          After the tear-soaked kiss, Ginny moved back and said, “Don’t forget me, will you?”

          Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak, as he wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her into another crushing hug.

          “Look, Harry,” Ron said as the couple stepped away from each other. Scratching his neck, he said, “I’m sorry for how I acted back there. I... I...”

          “I get it, Ron,” Harry said as he gave his best friend a hug as well. “Thank you.”

          Both Weasleys looked pained as they watched Harry as if he was about to disappear into thin air at any time. Trying for a lighter tone, Harry laughed, “I’m not going to leave you all this instant.”

          “You made it sound like it,” Ron muttered petulantly.

          “If only you’d just stayed and listened to me for one more minute as Hermione did,” Harry scolded lightly.

          Ron’s ear turned pink predictably. He cleared his throat and said, “So, what are we standing around in an empty pub for? Are we heading back or what?”

          Harry looked around only to find that Fawley had disappeared at some point. Only the half-finished bottle of Firewhisky and the two glasses indicated that he was ever there. Harry eyed Ginny and took her hand into his. Asking fondly, he said, “Let’s go?”

          Ginny nodded.

          Ron, who was ahead of the couple, was about to open the door when the storefront exploded in front of their eyes and engulfed them in a fiery fireball.

          The door flew off the hinges from the blast and rammed into Ron as they all sailed backwards from the force of the explosion. Harry instinctively twisted his body to shield Ginny as the broken shards of window glass and splinters of wood rained upon them. As they slammed onto the floor, he could hear two sickening cracks in his wrist and elbow. In the corner of his eyes, Harry watched as Ron crashed into a nearby column like a ragdoll and slumped motionlessly onto the floor.

          Distant shrieks and screams erupted outside the pub as Harry saw vicious curses flying up and down the street and in all directions, destroying displays and storefronts. Meanwhile, shoppers scampered away to safety as they all ran for the Apparition points.

         Picking himself off the floor, Harry pulled Ginny up with his left hand as they took cover behind a large column. Peeking around the corner and through the broken window, he saw a group of masked attackers making their way towards them. Members of the group were systematically entering and destroying every shop while the rest sent Blasting Spells in random directions.

          Harry shared a look with Ginny and tipped his head towards Ron’s location. Understanding his plan, she nodded. They crouched down, careful not to be seen by anyone, and made their way towards Ron’s limp body.

          “How’s Ron?” Ginny whispered urgently as Harry cast the Diagnostic charm over his body with his wand in his uninjured left hand.

          “He’s alive,” Harry whispered calmly. “But he needs Healing attention immediately.”

          Suddenly, a stray Blasting curse found its mark an inch above their hiding spot, exploding the entire shelf of glass bottles and showering them with the broken shards. Ginny let out a scream in surprise as the masked attackers pointed their wands in their direction.

          “Someone is in the pub!” shouted one of the attackers as several more spells sped through the open window. Some of the attackers broke off from the main group and ran towards the Hog’s Head. Boxes, bottles, and glasses were showering onto the wooden floor as the building shook from each spell that connected with the structure.

          Realizing that they had been found out, Harry turned towards Ginny and said, “There should be a Floo in the back. Get Ron to the Burrow and seal the Floo! Then, notify McGonagall that there has been an attack in Hogsmeade.”

          Harry moved to leave their hiding spot, but Ginny’s firm hands stilled him. Hissing, she asked, “What about you, Harry?”

          “I will distract them and help the others. I’ll send a Patronus when it’s clear.”

          “But Harry -”

          “Go, Ginny. Now!” Harry gritted out as he pried her fingers off of his arm. Sharing a final look with Ginny, Harry leapt out of his spot and ran across the destroyed pub to the other side.

          “It’s Harry Potter!” one of the attackers shouted as the spells followed his escape route, leaving Ginny’s side in the clear. He spared a glance at Ginny and saw that she successfully dragged Ron into the back room where the Floo was. Just as he was about to breathe a tiny sigh of relief, two black, metal canisters suddenly ricocheted through the window and landed noisily in the center of the room. 

          “What -?”

          Before Harry could even process what he saw, a blinding flash and a deafening “BANG!” overwhelmed all his senses.

          Harry groaned as his ears went ringing with white noise. It was as though there were layers of cotton filling his ear canals. He tried to open his eyes to see where Ginny and Ron were, but he couldn’t open his eyes… Harry’s fingers touched his eyes… they were already open… wait, what?

          He tried to re-orient himself as he flailed his arms around him blindly. He patted the wooden floor. Okay, he’s lying on the floor. Harry touched a sturdy object nearby. A stand? A merchandise bin? He pulled himself off the ground just as blurry images started to re-appear. He took a step towards where he thought the Weasleys were but stumbled back onto the floor drunkenly. He shook his head violently. Everything was doubled and overlapping. Disorienting. 

          He finally recognized his location and coordinates. Turning towards the broken window, he saw a half-dozen attackers running towards him.

          With his right arm hanging limply by his side, Harry clutched his wand in his left hand and tumbled out of the shop. He cast multiple Stunners towards the attackers, but he could not hear his voice nor aim at them properly. Harry ran further down in an unpredictable zig-zag fashion down the street as curses flashed by him. One curse shot by him so closely above his head that it singed his hair, but Harry couldn’t worry about it now.

          Harry risked a glance backwards, and he was satisfied when all of the attackers passed by Hog’s Head without entering. He turned left onto a narrower street and collected his breath as he slowed to a jog when he was suddenly jerked into a shop.

          Hissing out in pain, Harry looked up with his watering eyes to see Fawley peeking over him into the street with his wand ready in his hand. His face was covered with soot and dust, much like Harry, as if he barely escaped a fierce battle.

          “Are you injured?” the other man asked urgently as Harry nodded.

          “Broken wrist, I reckon.”

          “Here. Hold still,” Fawley held Harry’s right arm and examined the swollen joint where an angry, red bruise was forming. “I can stabilize it for you. Brackium Emendo.”

          There was a faint blue light as the pain in Harry’s wrist immediately lessened. However, the muscles in his arm remained tight, and his motions felt restricted.

          “That’s the best I can do right now,” Fawley apologized as the building that they were hiding in shuddered, likely due to another stray Blasting Curse.

          “Do you have any idea who’s out there?” Harry asked as their building rocked violently again. Then, a small group of masked attackers marched by their location as Harry and Fawley ducked out of sight.

          “No,” Fawley whispered. “Some You-Know-Who wannabes would be my guess. I’ve already sent an Auror distress signal. They should be here at any time.”

          There was a blood-curdling scream off in the distance, and Fawley had to restrain him from running towards the noise thoughtlessly.

          “There’s too many of them,” Fawley hissed. “It’s suicidal!”

          “I cannot just stand by and watch innocent people die!” Harry argued, his eyes flashing dangerously. Ignoring Fawley’s protest, Harry ran out and started shooting Stunners at the attackers from behind.

          All four of the masked assailants in front of him collapsed immediately, but Harry suddenly detected the whistling of an incoming curse from behind. Turning around, he realized another, much larger group of attackers behind him.

          A sense of dread pooled in Harry’s stomach as he berated himself for his rash decision. When the violent, red light was about to hit Harry, Fawley jumped in front of it and deflected the curse with a fluid upwards motion.

          “Watch out,” Fawley shouted as he thrust his wand towards the attackers forcefully and shouted, “Confringo!

          His spell rocketed into the crowd of cloaked figures and set off a series of bright, yellow explosions that erupted in a spectacular display while the enemy groaned and shouted in agony. Taking advantage of the chaos, Fawley waved his wand in a large, sweeping motion at a nearby structure as individual bricks, pipes, and pieces of wood broke away and sailed towards him. The bits of materials slowly coalesced into a thick wall of materials arranged in a messy collage in front of him, separating Harry and Fawley from the attackers.

          Meanwhile, Harry continued to cast spells against the incoming crowd.

          “Expelliarmus! ” Harry shouted, but the other side deflected his spell with ease.

          “The Disarming Spell?! Really?!” Fawley shouted incredulously as he summoned more material for his wall. “Has the Academy not taught you anything?”

          “I was only there for three months!” Harry shouted back. “So, that’s a no!” 

          Fawley cursed under his breath as he stopped the summoning. The wall in front of them was just large enough to shield both men entirely from the barrage. While shooting curses around the wall, Harry eyed their surroundings for anything useful. The sudden splattering sound beneath their shuffling feet caught Harry’s attention as he realized that they were standing in a large puddle of water. Looking nearby, he saw that water was gushing out of a broken pipe that was likely damaged in the attack.

          Harry looked beside and saw Fawley with his eyes closed and brows furrowed. Drops of sweat gathered on his forehead as he pushed with both hands against the floating wall of broken wooden planks, bricks, and protruding metal scraps. There was a dim indigo glow emanating from around his hands as Fawley magically reinforced the wall, which caused all the incoming curses to only chip off the material without penetrating it. However, Harry noticed that the protective spell flickered and weakened with every curse that ricocheted off the wall.

          Seeing that their curses could not make a dent in the barrier, the group of attackers started to walk towards them without letting up on the bombardment.

          “I have a plan,” Harry shouted as he shot off another round of curses around the edge of the wall.

          “I’m open to anything!” Fawley groaned. “But make it quick! I can’t hold them off forever!”

          “Walk backwards!” Harry said as he placed a guiding hand on Fawley’s back. “We need to draw them in!”

          “I hope you know what you’re doing!” Fawley shouted as he started to inch backwards.

          “Just a little more!” Harry said as their boots shuffled onto dry grounds. Meanwhile, he risked a peek around the wall and saw the mob slowly step into the location that the two men vacated. 

          “Anytime now!” Fawley groaned. His shoulders were pressed against the wall in an apparent attempt to pour all his strength into maintaining the shield that protected them from certain doom.

          Harry pointed at the puddle and shouted, “Glacius!

          Instantly, the entire puddle froze, embedding the attacker’s feet in a thick sheet of ice. With a loud groan, Fawley pushed out with both hands and sent the wall of materials outwards. The enemy immediately tried to blast apart the incoming projectile. Without the magical reinforcement, the wall slowly broke apart mid-air as the curses exploded against it, forming visible holes in the makeshift shield.

          Fawley let out a painful hiss as he trained his wand on the disintegrating wall. He panted out a weak, “Duro! ” just before the wall collided against the immobilized mob.

          The spell connected with the wall and quickly transformed into a giant block of granite. It immediately collapsed onto the helpless attackers as they shouted in a wave of panicked and agonized screams.

          And then, there was only silence.

          Relieved, Harry was about to turn and congratulate Fawley when he found that the other man had collapsed onto his knees.

          “Fawley,” Harry gasped as he knelt beside the man. The man’s face was deathly pale, and his hands felt cold and clammy. A moment later, his entire body started to shiver uncontrollably. Harry rested the man on his back and immediately noticed the shredded robes and the blood pooling on the ground around his torso. Beneath the torn fabric, Harry saw multiple large gashes as blood continued to trickle out of the wounds at an alarming rate.

         ‘Sectumsempra.’

          A stray curse must have broken through Fawley’s defenses and struck him.

          Harry immediately sprung into action as he pointed his wand over one of the larger gashes and muttered, “Vulnera Sanentur.”

          “It’s a pity, really,” Fawley gasped before his words turned into another painful groan. 

          Under Harry’s spell, the wound started to heal around the fringes. However, it refused to close properly.

          “What is?” Harry continued the conversation as he tried to keep the other man conscious.

          “That we couldn’t have met - urgh - met earlier,” the other man whispered as his eyes slowly closed. 

          “Nonsense. I was hoping this is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Harry gritted out as he started to shout out any Healing spell he could remember. However, none of the spells worked any better than the first attempt. Worse yet, the bleeding seemed to have stopped, which only meant one thing - there was no blood left to be spilled.

          Staring at his chest, Harry noticed the weak rise and fall. This body was only sustained by his magic, but that wouldn’t last much longer. At the back of his mind, he knew it was likely too late to save the man, but he refused to acknowledge the damning truth.

          “Terrible profession. Being an Auror,” Fawley said shakily. He tried for a grin, but it only became a grimace. “Did you know… that when I was a child, I always wanted to be a wand-maker?”

          “Yeah?” Harry replied distractedly as he looked up and down the destroyed street. It had been more than five minutes, yet there was no sign of reinforcements. “Why didn’t you become one then?”

          “I did,” Fawley said. His voice was now fainter. “For about a year with Kiddell... until he realized he couldn’t get past the fact that I was a Fawley, not a Kiddell.”

          “Why Kiddell and not Ollivander?” Harry asked as he fumbled with his blood-stained wand.

          “I doubt he would have an easier time with my family name.”

          “I will have a word with him,” Harry replied and pointed his wand into the sky, trying valiantly to focus on his happiest memory.

          “Expecto patronum. Expecto Patronum. EXPECTO PATRONUM! ” Harry yelled desperately, yet nothing shot out of his wand. Harry abandoned his efforts, knowing that he could not perform the Patronus Charm right now. It was then that Harry finally processed the fact that the man in front of him was going to die and that he could not do anything to stop it. Harry clutched the man’s hand tightly as if he could physically drag the man back from his imminent death as he whispered his pained apologies, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

          Fawley seemed to have used the last of his strength to place a weak grip on Harry’s wrist.

          “Stop,” he breathed out quietly. “It’s alright.”

          “You’re going to be alright,” Harry uttered the blatant lie. He bit down on his lips and tried to put on a strong front despite his entire world collapsing around him.

          “Shh... It’s alright,” Fawley said faintly with a small smile tugging the corners of his lips upwards. Harry also noticed that his body had stopped shaking, meaning that it had started to shut down.

          “You’re not dying on me,” Harry insisted desperately. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

          The man shook his head minutely at Harry’s words. Then, his lips started to move soundlessly. Harry immediately leaned over to place his ear directly above Fawley’s lips. But Harry was unable to hear the man's last words as his breath hitched. Simultaneously, the hand held in between Harry’s palms fell limp.

          “Avada Kedavra!

          The Killing Curse was uttered from afar. But before Harry could even react to the shout, the Curse rammed squarely on his back. And for the third and final time, Harry's world turned dark.

Chapter 5: Interlude - Boarding the Train (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIVE

INTERLUDE: BOARDING THE TRAIN


 

         For the second time in six months, Harry found himself laid facedown and surrounded by a soothing silence. However, he sensed that he was not alone this time. Quickly wishing to be clothed, he dressed himself and walked towards the cloaked figure, who stood out amongst the muted colours of King’s Cross Station.

         Just like last time, Harry found Death standing beside the station clock. Without hesitation, he strode down the platform towards the landmark. As he approached his destination, he realized that Death stood beneath the station clock.

         ‘Hello again, young Master -’

         “I need to go back,” Harry demanded. “I need to know what happened in Hogsmeade. Who were the attackers? What were they doing? What are they planning to do?”

         ‘I’m afraid that would be impossible.’

         “What? Why?”

         ‘Because there is a limit to the number of times you can resurrect back into the same life.’

         “I have a limit to the number of times I can resurrect? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?!” Harry screamed.

         ‘Would this knowledge have changed your behaviour prior to your third death?’

         “Well... No! But that’s not the point. The point is you withheld information!”

          ‘Young Master, remember that I am only an imprint of your knowledge. What you know consists of only what you have already experienced. I can only reveal what is necessary for you to know when it becomes relevant. This is part of living.’

          Harry found himself unable to argue the point. However, he still felt slighted by Death’s deception.

          ‘You have the ability to return to life twice each lifetime. That means you have two additional chances to remedy whatever mistakes you have made. Coupled with your magical abilities, you are able to live a life without regret should you use them wisely. You are closer to death yet paradoxically closer to immortality than any single living entity. Please recognize that not many people have this luxury rather than being fixated on my supposed “deception.”’

         Harry fumed, but he also knew there was no use to get angry as it would solve nothing. Then, Harry paused as he recalled something. “But clearly, there is a threat besides Voldemort that had been lurking in the shadows -” He breathed out the single word in realization, “Prometheus.” 

          ‘Indeed, young Master. This seed of destruction was sown long ago.’

         “But for how long?”

         Death remained silent to his inquiry, and Harry knew it was futile to demand an answer from Death.

         “So… I guess that was it?” Harry said, finally allowing the reality of his situation to settle in his mind. If it weren’t for the violent, abrupt end, Harry supposed he would have been at peace with leaving this life behind. Of course, he would have wanted to be more prepared for the moment and, perhaps, have read a book or two on the history of the First Wizarding War. However, he was, in essence, ready to move on. In addition, he also recognized that this was the only option that would allow him to uncover the truth and bring about the necessary changes. “I guess I should get on with it then.”

          ‘Very well, young Master. When you are ready, you can, as you put it, board the train. But remember, death comes to all eventually, without discrimination - even you. You just have the option to journey on.’

         Death’s skeletal hand swept towards the idle train next to the platform.

         “But do I get to choose my ‘destination’?” Harry asked.

          ‘No, young Master. But I assure you that you will have a fighting chance to fix what you desire and remedy your deepest regrets.’

         Harry nodded in affirmation of what he already knew.

         A faint train whistle hooted in the foggy distance, prompting Harry into action. With a duality of heaviness and, oddly enough, excitement, Harry slowly walked towards the train.

          ‘And one parting note, young Master.’

          With one foot on the carriage, Hadry paused and turned back for one moment.

          ‘As the Master of Death, you will have a heightened perceptiveness to death and also the unique ability to summon the Hallows for your use.’

         Harry nodded, although he did not truly comprehension the implications of these words.

         “Thank you. I’ll see you on the other side?”

          ‘Of course.’

         Harry nodded and boarded the train.

         ‘Good luck, young Master.’

 

Chapter 6: Birth of a Prodigy (revised)

Notes:

Rewritten.

- ravenclawblues 2022-01-10

Chapter Text

 


CHAPTER SIX

BIRTH OF A PRODIGY


 

August 1, 1958 (Friday)

 

BLACK HEIR FINALLY BORN

by Sclandora Gosp

Birth of Turais Orion Black after Tumultuous Pregnancy

 

The long-awaited, newest addition to the illustrious family of the Blacks was confirmed by Lord Arcturus Sirius Black late yesterday night. Turais Orion Black, male, was born on the 31st of July after what was widely believed to be a difficult pregnancy by Walburga Black. Numerous private Healers have been seen to enter and exit 12 Grimmauld Place, the Black ancestral home, for the past nine months due to rumoured complications...

 

***

 

         The crepuscule rays of the early sun filtered through the drawn curtains into the bedroom, dimly lighting up the bed and the waking occupant.

         Harry stirred slightly, sensing the comfortable linen fabric surrounding him. Slowly, he cracked open his eyes and saw a lofty ceiling painted in white with a vintage, ornate gas lamp installed at the center. He shifted his eyes to the wall alongside his bed and noticed that it was covered with an intricate emerald-and-gold-patterned wallpaper. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the golden lines were, in fact, illustrations of serpents. On the other side of his bed was a wooden writing desk that faced the only window in the room. Casting his eyes on the far wall of the room, Harry saw a door with a golden doorknob in the shape of a serpent. Next to it was a wardrobe, a bookcase filled with storybooks and a large wooden chest.

         The room struck Harry as familiar, yet something about it was distinctly different.

         Cautiously, Harry lifted his blanket - a different shade of green - and looked down at the silver silk pyjamas that dressed him. Putting on the slippers beside his bed, he stood up on the carpeted floor and roamed the large bedroom. When he reached the door, he pressed his ear against the wooden surface. Besides the faint noises of clanging pots and pans, the house seemed to be void of other noises.

         He took another sweeping glance around the room, and nothing revealed the personality of the room’s occupant. Harry’s gaze then landed on the large, wooden chest with a large padlock in the front with seemingly no keyhole. Running his finger across the cool metal surface, Harry was just wondering how he would open the lock when there was an audible click as the chest lid sprung open. Alarmed, Harry leapt backwards and reached for his wand only to realize that there was no wand to be found on his body or anywhere in this room.

         Waiting in anticipation for several seconds, Harry made certain that nothing was about to attack him before he risked a peek inside the chest. However, all he could see were harmless, ordinary objects. There were some toy quills, stuffed creature dolls, a chess set, an idle Snitch, a star lamp, and a toy broomstick.

         It looked like a typical chest found in a child’s room of a Wizarding family.

         Harry reached for the toy broomstick. However, the moment his fingertips grazed the polished wood, foreign memories started flooding his mind...

 

***

 

          Harry found himself hovering a foot above the carpeted floor of a room that Harry immediately recognized as the sitting room in Grimmauld Place. However, unlike the gloomy, dusted version that he was accustomed to, this space was bright, clean, and vibrant with life. He tried to look around for clues as to why he was here, but he quickly realized that he was not in control of his actions as his vision was focused solely on the fluttering Snitch in front of him. 

          His eyes spared a quick glance down between his legs, and Harry discovered that he was riding the very same toy broomstick that he was reaching for in the chest not a moment ago. Then, he noticed a large figure looming over him. Looking up, Harry saw a man in his late thirties with warm, grey eyes - the same exact shade of his late godfather -

          Orion Black, his mind supplied. My father.

          Orin grinned at him and shouted, “Looks like Turais Black has spotted the Snitch! The Slytherin seeker is on the move!”

          Instinctively, Harry knew that Orion was referring to him even though he had never heard of the name before.

          Turais Orion Black, Harry realized. This is my name. I am Turais Orion Black.

          There was a pair of delightful screams behind, and Turais turned to look. Two toddlers were chasing after him with their arms stretched out as if they were trying to catch him. The boy in front was noticeably older than the younger boy behind him.  

          My brothers. Sirius Arcturus Black. Regulus Sirius Black.

          Immediately, Harry felt a wave of warmth, contentment, and happiness coursing through his body.

          Turais bit down on his lower lip as he leaned forward, stretching his right arm out as he tried to reach for the winged gold-coloured ball that drifted lazily just out of reach. Frustrated with the slowness of his broom, he swiped his hand down violently upon the ball just to end up empty-handedly as the Snitch casually shifted to his left.

          “- and... he missed. Better luck next time. Aaaand now, it seems like the Ravenclaw seeker is hot on his tail -” Turais suddenly felt a slight lurch backwards. He snapped around to see his father’s naughty grin and his right hand gripping the tail of his broomstick. “- he is holding onto his broom. That’s a foul - ”

          Turais narrowed his eyes at his father’s widening grin and the mischievous glints of playful grey ones.

          “- or would be, but the referee did not see it! Did the barmy old hat sort him into the wrong house?”

          “Hey! That’s not fair! I would have caught the Snitch if you didn’t hold onto my broom,” Turais fumed at this blatant injustice and swiped at his father’s arm.

          “Would not!” Orion smiled smugly, ignoring his son’s attack. He then took a big step forward without letting go of the broomstick. “Both seekers have spotted the Snitch. The Ravenclaw is slowly gaining on the Slytherin seeker -”

          “No! The Ravenclaw seeker is cheating! The referee -”

          “- is distracted by a flying troll in the sky -”

          “Trolls can’t fly!”

          Orion slowly stretched his left hand towards the Snitch as Turais continued to punch at his arm. “The elder Black makes an attempt at the Snitch, and… he’s caught the Snitch! Ravenclaw wins!” Orion closed his hand around the ball as its wings retracted back into its tiny body and sat idly in his palm. He turned around with a smug look on his face.

          Arrrrgh ….!” Turais lunged at his father after his battle cry as they both tumbled onto the couch next to them. Sprawled on top of his father, he landed punches on Orion’s chest as his father’s laughter echoed the sitting room.

          “I call for a rematch! The Ravenclaw seeker is a cheating scumbag!” Turais said after he was tired from all the punching, mumbling into his father’s neck. After all the physical exertion, the regular beating in his father’s chest and the enveloping warmth was slowly lulling him to sleep.

          “Cheating scumbag!” Sirius echoed as his climbed onto the couch and piled onto his older brother and father. Regulus was content with sitting on the floor beside them and made some weird noises that sounded like “eating ‘cumbug.’”

          They stayed like that for a while, immersing themselves in the serenity within the cozy room as the fireplace cackled and glowed softly in the background. They listened to the sounds of car engines and the rustling of the leaves outside the house as the scene morphed before Harry’s eyes until he found himself surrounded by, oddly, an encasing web of tree branches. Distant murmurs of animated conversation and bright lights filtered through the branches and leaves around him.

          “Turais! Come out from under that tree right now!” a woman’s voice called out from somewhere behind him.

          A chilling mixture of fear and, mostly, resentment bubbled within Turais.

          Walburga. My mother. Harry’s mind informed unwillingly as he felt a wave of annoyance coursing through his body.

          Turais turned around in a huff. In front of him was a giant mountain of gifts wrapped in vibrant reds and greens. He crawled forward and felt his head bump against something light. Looking up, Turais saw a swaying bauble hanging amongst countless other ornaments with streaks of tinsels traversing between the branches in shimmering silver and gold.

          It was then that Harry realized he was underneath a Christmas tree.

          Looking around, Turais saw the sitting room was now brilliantly decorated to reflect the winter festivity. Magnificent crystal chandeliers draped with garlands spiraled down from the lofty ceiling. The floor was magically charmed to appear as though the guests were standing above an iced-over lake. And in the middle of the frozen lake stood the towering Christmas pine from which Turais had just emerged. It sparkled with fairy lights, colourful glowing baubles, and a dazzling star etched with the Black family crest atop the tree.

          Harry was marvelling at the decorations when he suddenly detected a faint whine of distress.

          None of the adults seemed to have paid any attention to the noise, but warning klaxons immediately started to blare in Harry’s mind.

          Sirius was in trouble.

          Turais started to pan his frantic gaze around the room in search of his brother when he heard another plead for help.

          “Pa’foo! Pa’foo!” a toddler Sirius whined across the room. Turais watched in fury as Bellatrix jabbed his brother on his cheeks with her fingers yet again and laughed. Sirius then let up a low hiccup, suggesting that he was moments away from crying. Immediately, Turais flicked his wrist, and Harry watched as a silvery dog materialized mid-air. It leapt playfully around Sirius before settling on its belly in front of him.

          “Pa’foo!” Sirius exclaimed happily, his grievances all but forgotten, as he concentrated on patting the dog’s head fondly. Meanwhile, all the adults in the room also focused on Turais and the patronus.  

          “Well, well, well. If I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed he was capable of this, my dear brother-in-law,” Cygnus Black told Orion and Arcturus, Orion’s father.

          “I’m glad this has put all doubt to rest,” Orion smiled proudly as he sipped on his wine. “Now, if you will excuse me...” 

          Orion approached Turais, who immediately held out his arms in an apparent request to be held up. Orion crouched down and sighed fondly at the sight of the boy’s pouty lips. With an exasperated grin, he reached out and lifted him, settling him against his shoulder. Yearning for more of the soothing warmth, Turais burrowed deeper into the embrace away from the drafty air.

          Looking behind Orion’s back, Turais saw Walburga’s disapproving glare. Instead of scolding him, she turned back to her conversation with her father.

          Walburga was always the stricter of the two parents and often frowned upon Orion’s outward affection towards his children, Harry’s mind supplied. 

          “Hey, big boy,” Orion whispered into his ears. His moustache tickled Turais’s cheek, and the young child released a joyful squeal. “Want to go with dada and show Padfoot’s friends to uncle Cygnus?”

          “Prongs and Moony?” Turais leaned back and looked at his father, scrunching his face.

          “Yes, Prongs and Moony.”

          “Hmm, okay, dada,” Turais turned to look at Cygnus as he twisted his wrist and wiggled his fingers. He took in the look of surprise on his uncle’s face as a stag and a wolf burst into existence and dashed freely across the ballroom floor. Sirius jumped and clapped in excitement while the rest of the adults looked on with fascination and murmured to each other. 

          The trio of patronuses then darted towards Bellatrix, who started to run away in fear. The stag lowered its head and bucked the girl while the wolf and dog ran between her legs, tripping her. Bellatrix fell onto the floor in an embarrassing display of flailing limbs. Her cheeks colouring in anger, she glared at Turais loathingly before picking herself up on her feet and storming out of the room.

          “We, Blacks, have a natural constitution for offensive magic and a lesser affinity for defensive and Light magic. I wonder where he got his magic from?” Lucretia Black, Orion’s elder sister, commented as she wandered over.

          “Well, our Turais is a special, powerful child,” Orion said with a pleased smile. “He will soon become the pride of the Black family - ”

          “- As befitting the next heir of the House of Black,” Lucretia finished placatingly with a soft smile.

          Turais nodded and gave his aunt a toothy grin, and both adults laughed. Observing the usual stray black hair that dropped rebelliously over his son’s right brow, Orion tugged it back in place behind his soft ear. The last thing Harry felt before the scene morphed once more was the lingering sensation of Orion’s gentle lips pressed against his temple.

          Now, Harry found himself sitting on the carpet floor next to Orion in the dark sitting room. His right arm was draped over his three sons as they all snuggled together cozily under a large duvet. To Turais’s right, there was a shuffling noise beside him as a weight against his torso shifted. Looking down, Turais saw Sirius’s dimly-lit figure leaning against him, looking quite comfortable with his current position.

          “These, my sons, are all the stars you can see in the skies,” Orion waved his left hand above their heads at the bright images of stars and constellations projected on the ceiling. The stars oscillated intermittently between bright and dim as the sole light source flickered gently inside the star lamp.

          “Woah! Which one is me?” Sirius asked breathlessly, following the rotating stars in fascination. 

          “Me! Me!” Regulus chimed along.

          Orion chuckled at ruffled the hair of his youngest son. “Okay, okay. Sirius, why don’t we let Regulus go first since he is the youngest?”

          “Fine, but I’m next,” Sirius said while Regulus gave a pleased chuckle.

          With a twinkle in his eyes, he scanned the moving lights. Suddenly, he patted Regulus’ shoulder urgently. “Regulus, look at that! I see you.”

          Orion gestured at the constellation Leo depicted by a roaring lion. The stars which composed the constellation glowed brightly inside its body.

          “Do you see the brightest star at the bottom right side of the lion?”

          Regulus nodded as he stared wondrously at the scintillating light.

          “That’s you, Regulus. The heart of a lion. Honourable. Loyal. Strong.”

          Regulus stared at the lion silently as it faded out of view. He turned to his father as he pointed at the tail of the disappearing lion, “Jer… Gif…”

          Gryffindor . Yes, the symbol of that house is a lion.”

          “I want to go to the house of lions,” Sirius said in awe.

          “No, you’re not, Sirius. Get that thought out of your mind at once!” Orion spoke sternly. “The Blacks have been sorted into Slytherins for generations, without exception. Don’t be impressed by a large cat. Gryffindors are foolhardy and reckless, a group that is unbefitting to be associated with a proud son of the House of Black.”

          Regulus breathed roughly as if he disagreed with his brother as well. Then, he punched his brother’s kneecap with his tiny fist, and Sirius scowled. Orion’s eyes twinkled amusedly at the exchange.

          “Now, let’s find you, Sirius. Yours should be the easiest to find. Ah hah, right there!” Orion pointed at a large dog triumphantly.

          “Padfoot!” Sirius looked up, jubilant. 

          “I always wondered if your namesake resulted in your affinity with Turais’s patronus,” Orion commented, glancing at the quiet form of Turais. “But yes, Sirius is the brightest star in the night sky. So bright that the ancient Greeks called it the ‘scorcher’ - the star that scorches across the night sky.”

          “Wow. I have the most awesome-est name ever!” Sirius exclaimed, turning his gaze from the dog to his older brother. “Turais?”

          “Turais - it is found in the constellation of Carina, wwaaay over there near the corner of the room, do you see it?” All three brothers squinted at where his father was pointing at. 

          “It is named after a part of the ship, the keel. And it is the first and most important step in building a ship. Everything is built around the keel, not the other way around. Perhaps… ” 

          Orion trailed off as Turais found the polished silver eyes staring at him, leaving Harry to wonder what Orion meant as another scene entered his mind.

          “You insolent brat!”

          Walburga’s murderous gaze filled Turais’s entire vision. Her wand was in her hand with its tip poking into Turais’s chest uncomfortably. At the corner of his eyes, he could see Sirius and Regulus huddling together, eyeing them with intense fear in their eyes.

          Walburga was preaching about pureblood supremacy, and I challenged her, Harry’s mind informed him. I must protect Sirius and Regulus.

          “Burga, stop,” Orion called out weakly from somewhere out of view. “He is still a child. He’s still young -”

          “But old enough to talk back at his dear Mother!” Walburga looked back and roared at Orion. Meanwhile, Turais started to feel a searing, hot pain where the wand dug into his skin. However, Turais bit down on his lips to avoid making any sound as he was unwilling to show any sign of weakness. “This is all your fault, Orion! You’ve always been too soft on them, and look what it led to! It seems like I’m the only one in this family who has any interest in upholding our family values.”

          Unable to hold back any longer, a hiss of pain escaped Turais’s lips as Walburga turned her attention back onto her son. Her eyes zoomed onto the burnt scar on Turais’s pale skin and quickly retracted her wand. There was a flash of remorse in her eyes before her lips curled into a cruel, satisfied smirk. 

          “This is what you deserve for defying your mother,” Walburga said coldly as Turais glared resentfully back at her. “But I am impressed at how well you took the pain. You might yet become a man. Something that your father did not quite manage to do.”

          Walburga shot a warning glare at Sirius and Regulus to indicate that she did not forget them. Then, she whipped around and walked past Orion, who was standing by the doorway with his eyes closed and his hands clutched into tight fists. Once the mother was gone, the father took in a restrained, shivering breath and opened his eyes only to see Turais looking up at him with a mix of disappointment and resignation.

          Orion never lifted a finger against us, but he also never interfered with Walburga during her fits of rage. 

          The father crouched down before a sniffling Turais. Cautiously, he reached out his fingers and said gently, “Let me heal it for you, Turais.” However, Turais turned his entire body away from Orion defiantly. The father asked again, gentler yet, “I can make it feel better -”

          “No, you won’t,” Turais gritted out as a drop of tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. 

          “Of course, I will,” Orion said as Turais allowed his body to be turned around. However, he continued to look away, avoiding eye contact with his father.

          With a quick incantation and a glow of light, the wound healed with only a faint red mark remaining on the pale skin.

          “It’s healed,” Orion said in a mock cheerful tone as he ran his finger across the tiny scar that remained. “What did Father say? I promised to -”

          “Why don’t you stop it from happening in the first place?” Turais whispered.

          Pain, remorse, and helplessness filled Orion’s eyes, but Turais refused to look up at the older man.

          “Do you want treacle tart today?” Orion asked, ignoring the question. Eyeing the dejected boy, Orion tried again, “It’s your favourite.”

          Turais knew Orion was trying to make amends, and despite everything that had happened, he knew his father loved him. So, Turais allowed himself to give a minute nod. Orion’s face immediately lit up as the scene ended.

          “Woah, you are finally letting me into the tapestry room?” Turais squealed as he jumped excitedly up and down in the main entryhall.

          “Yes, Turais,” Orion laughed as he ruffled Turais's hair. His father swung open the door as a cold draft swept past Turais, chilling his spine. Excitement fled Turais immediately as he eyed the room with unease and apprehension. 

          “What is it, Turais?” Orion asked, confused at the boy's sudden shift in mood.

          “The room...” Turais muttered timidly as he pressed up against Orion's side. “It feels strange... I don't want to go in anymore...”

          Harry also sensed something in the air… something intangible, unquantifiable, inexplicable… that slid beneath his skin and burrowed into his mind.

          “It could be the magic,” Orion surmised. Crouching down, he tickled Turais on the nose gently and said, “Don't be scared, Turais. It won't hurt you.”

          “Promise?” asked Turais.

          “Promise.”

          As Turais took one step into the room, followed by another, a deep hum of energy started to resonate with his magical core.

          The tapestry room was dimly lit by a small gas-lamp that stood next to a pair of tufted velvet parlour chairs and an ornate rosewood tea table in the middle of the room. All four walls were covered by large, imposing woven tapestries depicting images ranging from the historical stories of pioneering Blacks building their first empire to fantastical imageries of heroic ancestors battling valiantly against mythical monsters. On the far wall was the familiar family tree tapestry that showed all the members in the Black family, but Turais's eyes were immediately drawn to another place.

          “What is this?” Turais asked as he pointed his finger at an odd image that didn't feature any Black ancestors. It was a tree... or three trees intertwined from their roots to their branches.

          “How have I not noticed this before?” Orion wondered as he crouched down to examine the picture at the bottom corner of the room. “They seem to be inosculated. Three trees separated at birth but destined to intertwine their fates as one. Quite remarkable, indeed.”

          There was another chill that travelled down Turais's spine as he shivered involuntarily. 

          “Father, can I leave?” Turais asked as he stared at his feet, unwilling to look at the tapestries anymore.

          “Alright,” Orion sighed. He held Turais's hand inside his and walked out of the room...

 

***

 

          Harry stumbled backwards, eyes widened with shock, and fell messily onto his bed as he tried to process all the memories that had just invaded his mind. With a throbbing head, Harry realized that had just experienced years’ worth of childhood through the eyes of a different person while feeling all his thoughts and emotions as if they were his very own thoughts and emotions. 

          It was... it was as if...

          Harry gasped as he immediately ran up to the wardrobe mirror. In the reflection, he saw a young, ten-year-old boy with the traditional aristocratic good looks, fair skin, and lustrous black hair that graced all Black males. The sole deviation was his electrifying green eyes as opposed to the sharp, grey eyes that all the other Blacks sported.

          “I am Turais Orion Black,” Harry repeated as the idea finally settled into his mind. Just then, he sensed Death’s presence beside him.

          ‘It seems that you have discovered your new identity in this world, young Master.’

          Harry surveyed the entire room once more, but he could not see his companion anywhere. However, upon the second inspection, Harry now recognized that he was likely inside one of the bedrooms in Grimmauld Place. He walked up to the window and threw the curtains wide open. Taking in the familiar view of the park across the quiet street, the reality of his situation started to dawn upon him.

          “This...” Harry breathed shakily as he ran his hands over his own body. “I’m Turais Black.”

           Death gave him the confirmation that he sought. Harry held out his trembling hands and examined them as the implications slowly revealed themselves. “I’m Sirius’s older brother. I’m in the past... before the start of the First Wizarding War... before the death of my parents... before...” Harry’s breath hitched, “Before... I was even born...”

           Harry asked urgently, “H... How is this possible? Sirius did not have an older brother! Who... who is this Turais Black?”

           ‘Did you know Walburga Black had a term miscarriage in your original timeline?’

           Harry was shocked by the information.

           ‘It was a very well-kept secret, and everyone who knew about it had already passed away. Miscarriages were a taboo subject amongst Wizarding families, especially in pureblood families such as the Blacks. They see it as a sign of magical weakness, especially given that miscarriages of magical beings were highly improbable. It also did not help that Orion and Walburga were second cousins. Even though marriages between members of close blood relations were still common at their time, it was falling out of favour, and most people were uncomfortable with their union. Therefore, the miscarriage was the last thing they needed to confirm others’ fears, and this was also their primary motive for sweeping it under the rug. And you, young Master, ended up in a slightly altered past where the miscarriage was prevented to allow for your existence in this world.’

           The death of an unborn heir and the desire to prove the world wrong would have driven Orion and Walburga to place enormous expectations on Sirius, which could partly explain the horrible childhood his late godfather had experienced.

           ‘But, in every sense, you are Turais Black and Turais Black is you.’

           Now, armed with the memories of Turais Black - his memories - Harry re-examined his opinion of his two new parents.

           Walburga was much gentler than he’d believed was possible, at least based on Sirius’s scathing recount of his mother. It offered Harry a glimpse of what was could have been a loving mother-son relationship if it were not for her sporadic and violent rage, especially when Turais defied her. Her callous propensity for inflicting pain had also rendered her unfit to be their mother. The tiny scarring on his chest would be a memento of that. So, now what they shared was only an uneasy truce and mutual understanding to be courteous to each other for the sake of the rest of the family. Other than that, there was no love lost between the two.

           Orion, however, was the one who took Harry entirely by surprise. Sirius had never mentioned his father compared to his constant disparaging of his mother. However, Harry always assumed that Sirius had hated his father similarly from his utter disregard for his father’s ring when he first returned to his ancestral home. But Harry just could not reconcile the image of an indifferent, cold Orion with the loving, affectionate Orion that Harry opened his eyes to every morning. It was clear to all who could see Orion’s expression that he loved his sons greatly and treated them as though they were the centre of his universe. The unbounded fondness that exuded whenever he entered their rooms and laid his eyes on them was unmistakable and impossible to fake, at least not for years. But perhaps Orion’s inaction in the face of his wife’s inexcusable crimes was what damaged his relationship with Sirius irreversibly.

           The sound of escalating shakes of footsteps thumping up the stairs interrupted Harry’s train of thought. A second later, the bedroom door flew open with a loud bang as a boy with a mop of curly black hair lunged at him, knocking the breath out of him as his back sunk into the mattress. Meanwhile, the other boy climbed onto Harry’s chest and leaned over him.

          “Good morning, you lazy bum!” the young boy, who looked like he was at most ten years of age, screamed happily into Harry’s ear.

          “What on earth, Siri?!” the words and nickname left Harry’s lips reflexively as if it was a routine that was he was long accustomed to. His mind immediately recalled dozens upon dozens of mornings where the younger brother repeated the same action without fail.

          “Just wanted to say good morning to my favourite person in the world!” Sirius shouted with his arms raised high in the air.

          Harry wanted to scowl, but he quickly found that he could only maintain a face-splitting smile. Then, Sirius moved as his entire weight shifted painfully onto one of his right ribs. Hissing out, Harry growled, “Get off me! You’re too heavy!”

          Sirius seemed to have eyed Harry’s discomfort and climbed off. Still grinning widely, Sirius shouted a loud “Sorry!” that sounded anything but apologetic.

          Harry found himself sighing fondly before Sirius suddenly smacked him on the thigh and said, “Race you!”

          Harry immediately reached forward to seize the collar of Sirius’s pyjamas, but the boy twisted his body deftly and escaped the attack. Giggling, he darted out the bedroom, where he took a second to turn around and make a funny face.

          Harry jumped out of his bed and chased after the boy with a roar. He sprinted down the long hallway past porcelain vases filled with the freshest blooms and family heirlooms displayed on mahogany end tables before tumbling down the stairs that circled a large chandelier encrusted with shining jewels and cascading crystals. At the bottom of the stairs, Harry found himself at the end of a grandiose entry hall that was brightly lit with gas lamps and lined with ornate portraits of past ancestors.

          “You lose again, Turais!” Sirius’s voice teased from behind. Harry turned around to see Sirius waving at him from the bottom of another set of stairs. He walked down and entered a large kitchen. Hanging cupboards lined the entirety of the left wall and were filled to capacity with various assortments of food items and drinks. To the right were shelves packed with sparkling chinaware and kitchenware. Next to the shelves, a pan was hovering over a lit stove as a levitating wooden turner magically stirred the contents. A fireplace with a gently cackling fire was at the far end of the kitchen. Harry knew it was made for pure aesthetics, considering the mild spring weather.

          Harry brought his attention back to the centre of the room where Sirius was bouncing in his seat in the middle of the long, dining table.

          “Come on, slowcoach,” Sirius said in a sing-song voice as he pushed out the chair behind him.

          Just as Harry sat down, there was an audible pop as an elderly house-elf appeared beside him. Harry looked down at the familiar tennis ball-sized eyes, which caused him to smile in absolute delight.

          “Good morning, Kreacher,” Harry greeted the house-elf warmly. His reaction was perhaps a tad more cheery than what the house-elf was accustomed to as he immediately bowed deeply with his nose almost touching the stone floor.

          “Master Turais is too kind to old Kreacher,” Kreacher muttered with a raspy voice. “Would Master prefer his regular breakfast?”

          “Whatever you are making will do,” Harry smiled. “Thank you.”

          “Anything for the kind Master,” Kreacher bowed deeply again before magicking another pan from the wall towards the stove.

          Soon, the cavernous kitchen was filled with the warm, cozy smell of buttermilk, vanilla, and tea as Harry continued to scrutinize everything, still not quite believing his own eyes.

          “Why are you looking at everything like you haven’t lived here for your entire life?” Sirius asked with his nose scrunching questioningly as he watched Harry sweep the pad of his finger against the Black family crest on the polished silver goblets.

          Harry turned away to answer when he was suddenly struck by a revelation that came roaring back into his mind.

          Sirius was alive. Sirius was alive!

          In the mind of the reincarnated eighteen-year-old Harry Potter, someone who lost his godfather a scant three years ago, with the memory of the ten-year-old Turais Black, someone who had grown up alongside Sirius for most of his life, this knowledge felt simultaneously like the most earth-shattering discovery and one of the simplest facts in life.

          Harry looked at Sirius numbly as he tried to reconcile the two polarizing ideas for a long while. The Sirius before him was young, innocent, and unmarred by the scars of life.  It was then that Harry felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. He knew he had to prevent that horrible fate that befell the Sirius in the original timeline from becoming the future of this Sirius.

          But another look at Sirius also reminded Harry that there was still a long time before those fateful decisions had to be made. For now, he would enjoy the time he had with Sirius, and Harry would gladly become the Turais Black who safeguarded his brother’s happiness and gave him - or gave them both - the childhood they deserved. 

          “Turais?” Sirius prompted, and Harry could detect a hint of fear and concern starting to creep into the boy’s tone. “Are you alright?”

          Harry blinked. He shook himself out of his reverie and patted Sirius’s messy bed of hair. With a gentle voice, he said, “I just didn’t sleep too well yesterday. Don’t worry.”

          Sirius furrowed his brows adorably, but he seemed to accept the excuse without question.

          The sound of descending footsteps from the staircase notified Harry that someone was about to join them. Mentally preparing himself, Harry watched as an older man emerged from the staircase. 

          “Morning, boys,” Orion greeted warmly. Without sparing a glance at the house-elf, Orion walked up and placed a gentle kiss on each of his son’s cheeks before sitting down next to Harry.

          “You’re early today, Sirius,” Orion remarked lightly, to which Sirius only offered a toothy grin in response.

          Meanwhile, Kreacher walked over with a hovering tray that held a tea set and a folded newspaper.

          “Master Orion’s tea and morning papers,” he croaked and set them down of the table before the father.

          Orion’s sole acknowledgement was a slight grunt before he unfolded the papers and started reading. 

          “March 23, 1969,” the date on the newspaper read. Mentally, Harry calculated that the start of the First Wizarding War was still several years away. However, the undercurrents of the War could already be in motion, such as Voldemort’s courting of various Dark creatures as allies. But Hermione’s words also rang loudly in his mind.

          Do what is strictly necessary to defeat Voldemort and do it with clinical precision.

          So, for now, all he needed was to monitor the situation and educate himself on the current events, especially since he had next to no knowledge about this era.

          There was a gentle shaking of his shoulders, and Harry suddenly realized that Orion was calling his name with worry in his eyes.

          “Turais,” Orion said. “Do you hear me, Turais?” 

          “Y... yes,” Harry nodded. “Yes, father.”

          “Are you feeling alright?”

          “I... yes... I -”

          “Turais said he didn’t sleep well last night,” Sirius chimed in.

          “Is that true?” asked Orion gently.

          “Yes,” Harry said as he remembered something important about today. Using it as an excuse, he said, “I suppose I was too excited about the Ball to sleep properly.”

          Today was the day of Malfoy Ball. It was one of the most important social events in Wizarding Britain, where only the most influential politicians and families were invited to attend. While the Blacks, who were currently still at the upper tiers of power, made regular appearances, it was the first time that Turais was invited to attend.

          Orion’s eyes softened, detecting Harry’s lie but misinterpreting the reason behind it.

          “Turais, if you do not wish to attend, I will ask your grandfather to excuse you.” Turais’s memories told him that Orion had never argued against Arcturus about something and succeeded. Upon seeing his son’s doubtful expression, Orion promised, “I will handle your grandfather -”

          “Oh, really? Then you must’ve learnt to quite recently,” another voice boomed from the staircase.

          Arcturus strolled in with a decorative walking cane clutched in his right hand. As he sat down on the next chair, he continued to communicate his displeasure by directing a stern glare at his son. Without looking, Arcturus tapped his cane on Kreacher’s back roughly and commanded, “Serve breakfast and leave.”

          “Yes, Master Black,” Kreacher said as his motions hastened noticeably. The entire room descended into an oppressive silence as Harry trained his gaze at a random spot on the table. After serving up the piping hot oatcakes with fried back bacon and scrambled eggs, the house-elf popped out of existence. The tantalizing aroma of the breakfast lingered in the air and tempted Harry to consume it at once, but he did not dare to move a muscle under Arcturus’s watchful gaze.

          “Turais -” Harry instinctively sat up in attention, “- are you well enough to attend the Malfoy Ball this afternoon?”

          “Yes, grandfather.”

          “Good,” Arcturus replied curtly. Turning to his son, he scolded, “I have told you many times before, Turais must attend his inaugural Ball. His absence will only unleash malicious rumours against him.”

          Orion nodded weakly at the words.

          “Are you sure you know the importance of this?” Arcturus challenged. “Turais is the pride of the family, and he has nothing to hide. Abraxas Malfoy has been making moves in the Ministry recently, and I will not allow his power grab to continue anymore. I need the others to see the future Lord Black as a powerful, worthy leader, especially in such troubling times when leadership is weak, and even fringe rebel groups are jostling for power. Alas, we wouldn’t have been in this situation if you were more competent. So I would at least expect you to have the sense to not act as an obstruction to your son’s future.”

          An icy silence emanated throughout the room that the crackling hearth in the fireplace could not thaw. Meanwhile, Harry was shocked at how callously Arcturus degraded Orion in front of his sons, and Harry knew he had to speak up. But just as he was about to do so, he felt a hand on his thigh gripping him painfully, warning him not to interfere.

          Harry turned to see Orion’s eyes trained on the opposite wall. With his other hand curled into a tightly clenched fist beneath the table, Orion replied with a deceptively calm voice, “I understand, father -”

          “I don’t need your understanding,” Arcturus said dismissively. “What I need is your cooperation. Without Turais, our influence will be slowly snuffed out until we are forced to either align with the Malfoys, the Light families, or this... this merry band of hooligans called the Knights of Walpurgis. And I need not remind you that I find none of the options palatable. We must seize this last opportunity, and we cannot allow our power to slip any further.”

          “Do you hear that, Orion?” Walburga prodded haughtily as she joined the family discussion, sitting across the table from her husband and children. Flashing her father-in-law an appreciative leer, she said, “And that is why I always say you should learn from your father. As the Head of this illustrious family for so many years, Lord Black always knows what the sensible thing to do is and what is required to uphold the family prestige.”

          Arcturus only gave her a cold smile in return, but Walburga did not seem perturbed by it. At the same time, Orion suddenly stood up and walked towards the door. It was then that Harry noticed a little boy clinging onto the final baluster of the stairs as he eyed the room cautiously.

          Orion knelt in front of the boy, who immediately leaned into his father’s side.

          “Hello, Regulus,” Orion said softly. “Good morning.”

          “Good morning,” Regulus whispered back without taking his large eyes away from Arcturus and Walburga.

          “Do you want some breakfast?” asked Orion.

          “What are we having today?”

          “Oatcakes, fried bacon, and eggs.”

          Regulus considered for a short moment before he said, “I like bacon.”

          “Of course,” Orion smiled as Regulus allowed himself to be guided into the room.

          When he returned to the table, he found his plate of food and table setting were now in front of Walburga. The mother had wordlessly summoned her husband’s plate of food upon the realization that Kreacher did not make a portion for her. 

          “Where’s my bacon, father?” Regulus asked innocently. Orion eyed Walburga with clear frustration, but the woman merely continued eating without paying them any attention.

          “I’ll ask Kreacher to make you some later,” Orion comforted. “Is that alright?”

          “But I want it now,” Regulus pouted as he eyed Harry’s plate longingly.

          “Reggie, you can share with me,” Harry offered readily.

          “Turais,” Orion said. “You should eat first.” 

          “It’s alright,” Harry said. He shuffled sideways in his seat and beckoned Regulus towards him. Patting on his chair, he said, “Sit with me, Reggie, and we can eat together.”

          Regulus hopped onto the chair and readily agreed to the arrangement. As his youngest brother started to munch on a delicious piece of bacon, Harry felt the silent gaze of his mother on him.

          “I did not raise you to be like this,” she wondered out loud. 

          Sipping on his cup of tea, Arcturus posed the question with a brow raised, “Did you even raise them?”

          Walburga glared at Arcturus, who looked back at her warningly. Her face quickly morphed into a sickly sweet smile before she turned back to her plate of unfinished food. Needing an outlet for her unvented frustration, she suddenly slammed her fork down onto the table in a loud thud and shouted, “This food is barely edible! Kreacher, take this rubbish away!” When the house-elf did not appear, she yelled, “I will chop your head off today if you don’t appear right this instance!”

          “It will not appear as I told it to leave us alone,” Arcturus commented as he continued to drink his tea, unfazed by the woman’s outrage.

          “As you wish,” Walburga gritted out as she pulled out her wand and vanished everything before storming out of the kitchen.

          Arcturus watched her departing back lazily with a satisfied smirk on his face. Then, he stood up and announced, “I have a meeting with Lord Fawley this morning. I will see you both at the Ball.”

          “Of course, father,” Orion said as he stood up to watch Arcturus leave the room as well.

          Suddenly, the mood in the room lightened as if a thunderstorm had passed to reveal the radiant sun.

          “I’ll ask Kreacher to make us something fresh,” Orion sighed tiredly as he eyed the cooled, untouched plates of food. “How does fried toast sound?”

          “Fried toast! Fried toast!” Sirius and Regulus chanted excitedly, and a fond smile crept back onto Orion’s face. 

          At the father’s command, Kreacher reappeared in the kitchen as the sound of cooking filled the room once more.

          “Why didn’t you let me talk to Grandfather?” Harry questioned Orion when his brothers were out of earshot.

          Orion looked surprised by the question. 

          “So you were trying to defend me.”

          “Of course!” Harry argued. “Grandfather was being... being terribly rude to you and I -”

          “You should sit still and do nothing, Turais,” Orion replied calmly. “Especially when speaking up won’t change a single thing.”

          “But that doesn’t mean we should just stand by and accept everything that is happening without even trying to fight it!”

          Orion remained silent for a long while before he suddenly turned to Harry with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

          “What has overcome you today, Turais? You sound unlike yourself.”

          Harry averted his gaze and feigned tiredness.

          “Perhaps, it was due to my lack of sleep.”

          “If that is the case, I suggest you finish up your breakfast quickly and rest up before we leave for the Ball.”

          Harry felt Orion’s lingering gaze on him, but fortunately, the rest of the meal passed without any further incident.

Chapter 7: The Malfoy Ball (revised)

Notes:

Rewritten.

- ravenclawblues 2022-01-10

Chapter Text

 

- The Black Family Tree and Titles -

 

Appendix I - Peerage System and Forms of Addresses in Wizarding Britain

 

As there is no Wizarding equivalent of the British peerage system, I have decided to create a slightly devolved version based on the muggle one.

Unlike the muggle version, the peerage title is not historically tied to territorial designations but, instead, is linked to having a hereditary "family seat" in the Wizengamot. Therefore, the title "Lord XXX" is exclusively based on the family's surname (and occasionally, his first name), such as "Lord Black" or "Lord Hector Fawley." Lord Malfoy will never be addressed as "Lord Wiltshire" because his Manor is located at Wiltshire. The wife of the titleholder will be "Lady <surname of her husband>." Hence, Melania, wife of Arcturus, has the title of "Lady Black."  

In another departure from the muggle system, there is only one rank of nobility. As a result, there are no courtesy or subsidiary titles for the Wizarding Lord's eldest son to use. Therefore, I have created an entirely separate title of "Master <surname>" for the Heir Apparent - the one set to inherit the title of Lord upon the Lord's death. Arcturus's son, Orion, is the Heir Apparent to the family seat of the Blacks. Hence, his title is "Master Black." The Heir Apparent's wife will have the title of "Mistress <surname of her husband>." Therefore, Walburga has the title of "Mistress Black."

The Lord's eldest son, other than his Heir Apparent, will have the title of "Mister <surname>," and the eldest daughter will have the title of "Miss <surname>." Lucretia has the title of "Miss Black," while Orion's hypothetical younger brother will be called "Mister Black." If Orion has a third brother or sister, they will be be addressed as "Mister <first name> <surname>" and "Miss <first name> <surname>".

The eldest grandson of the Lord through the senior male line will have the title of "Master <first name> <surname>" to differentiate his title from his father's. Therefore, Turais, the eldest son of Arcturus's Heir Apparent, Orion, has the title of "Master Turais Black." His hypothetical wife will be addressed in the format of "Mistress <first name> <surname of her husband>." All other members of the family will have the title of "Mister <first name> <surname>" or "Miss <first name> <surname>" with no distinction of seniority. Therefore, Sirius and Regulus are "Mister Sirius Black" and "Mister Regulus Black."

A correspondence to "Master Black" will always be to Orion, not Turais or Arcturus. A letter for “Mister Black” will always be for Orion's hypothetical second brother, not to Sirius or Regulus.

However, due to the impracticality of constantly addressing everyone by their titles in a conversation, it is generally agreed that casual acquaintances will initially greet one another with their full titles before reverting back to first names or "Mister/ Miss <surname>" unless otherwise stated. Between close friends, they can mutually agree to drop the formal titles, depending on the familiarity between the pair and the setting of the conversation. For the addressed to insist upon using their formal titles would be viewed as either: 1) a deliberate attempt by the addressed to disassociate themselves from the addressor or 2) a sign of pretentiousness. However, the addressor could, conversely, ignore the warning and risk the ire of the addressed.

Of course, all of this only matters to a certain segment of the Wizarding society that holds this formality - which they deem as a pureblood tradition - in high regard. These families frequently address each other with these titles and treat the impeccable usage of them as an indication of proper upbringing. Therefore, Turais - being a son of the Black family - is surrounded by those well-versed in such addresses.

On the other end of the spectrum are those who view the title of Lord merely as a business title. They believe that the titles should only be used within the Wizengamot and disregarded beyond those chambers. Therefore, they rarely use their titles in public and never address their sons as "Master." The Potter family is an example of that.

There is also a third group of people who are well-acquainted with these addresses out of necessity or are ambivalent about its usage. An example of the former would be Ministry officials or elected representatives in the Wizengamot. An example of the latter would be shopowners, who would decide whether to use the formal titles depending on his knowledge of his customers' inclinations.

Finally, there is a tiny wrinkle in all of this in regards to house-elves and how they address their masters. When addressing the head of household, usually the Lord of the family, they will refer to him as “Master <surname>.” All other family members will be addressed as “Master <first name>,” such as “Master Orion” or “Master Turais,” or simply as “Master.” 

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVEN

THE MALFOY BALL


 

January 29, 1967 (Sunday)

 

NIMBUS JOINS THE RACE

by A. Carnierus, Quidditch Correspondent

How will Cleansweep, Comet, and Universal Compete?

 

The revolutionary Nimbus 1000, which features the ability to turn 360 degrees in mid-air, is bound to shake up the Quidditch Pitch. Despite today being the official release date for the broom, it has already received record-breaking pre-sale orders for the past month after the European Racing Broomstick Convention in Munich, Germany last December. The official spokesperson already issued a statement last week stating that there was a backlog of orders and that no broomsticks will be available for purchase until March. However, those interested can still pre-order through owl post...

***

 

          Without much time to settle into his new identity, Harry soon found himself with an impeccable hairstyle and dressed in a set of smartly-cut black robes with green lines that traced the hems to accent his eyes. Then, he was quickly shuffled into the sitting room by Orion and Walburga. In the centre of the room was a coat-hanger with a label flashing the words “Port-on-call, departing in one minute from 12 Grimmauld Place to Malfoy Manor” stuck sideways along the length of the stand. As the Portkey glowed, they directed him to grab onto the coat-hanger as the family was Portkey-ed away.

          Harry spun and flailed his arms, trying to remain standing. Orion grabbed his robe to steady him, amused, while Walburga scowled at his undignified manners. He looked up sheepishly. Fortunately, he was saved from a dressing down by his mother as Lucius Malfoy approached.

          Harry never imagined what Lucius would look like as a child, yet here he was, a fifteen-year-old boy, walking towards him. He had straight, long blonde hair that grew past his shoulders and a perfect yet impassive smile - a picture-perfect example of a properly groomed pureblood heir.

          “Master and Mistress Black,” Lucius formally greeted Orion and Walburga with a courteous nod before he turned to the youngest member of the party. “Master Turais Black.”

          Lucius’s eyes lingered on Harry’s face, silently evaluating him, and looked away just before it would be deemed as socially inappropriate. Lucius waved his hand towards the entryway and gestured for them to accompany him.

          “Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Please excuse my father, as he is currently attending to the arrival of Lord Black.”

          “Thank you, Master Malfoy. How is Hogwarts treating you?” Harry heard Orion ask as he initiated a polite conversation with Lucius. 

          Uninterested in the dialogue, Harry let his eyes wander around the magnificent halls accented exquisitely with various items. Artworks, a combination of marble sculptures and paintings of Greek gods, lined the grey-carpeted hallway. Gathered knots of pale white flowers: lilies, magnolia, and pincushions, appeared on every marble column while wisteria streamed elegantly from the arches above.

          As he was marvelling at the tasteful decorations that lined sumptuously over most surfaces, he passed by a pair of opened French doors that led to an expansive balcony. There was a quick movement of shadows that piqued Harry’s interest. Glancing back at his parents, he slipped away from the group and walked into the cool, night air.

          Harry looked out over the vast manor grounds basked in the silvery moonlight under the cloudless skies. A gentle breeze caressed his cheek as it brought the faint scent of white roses and lilies from the famed Rose Garden as well as the sound of a hushed conversation. Venturing towards the noise, Harry happened upon a young boy pinned against the wall by another much-older boy, who had his wand trained on his victim.

          “How did you get in here, vermin? ” the older boy said with a vicious grin on his face as the smaller boy clawed at the space between them futilely. “Looking at your rags, you clearly do not belong.”

          “What are you doing?” Harry shouted as he ran up to them. “Let him go at once!”

          The bully glanced at Harry and then took a second look at his robes before deciding that Harry was worthy of his attention. Without letting the struggling boy go, he asked, “Who are you supposed to be?”

          “That is none of your concern,” Harry snapped. “I said. Let. Him. Go.”

          The bully sneered, “Now, why would I do that -”

          Having only performed wandless magic successfully once before, Harry tried to focus his magic and willed for the Revulsion Jinx. He felt a warm current of power originating from the core and slowly flowing into his wand arm. However, another frustrated grunt from the younger boy distracted Harry as the attempt failed.

          Eager to free the other boy, Harry threw a strong punch at the bully’s face in haste. With a surprised yelp, the older boy covered his right eye and let out a pained howl. His wand was dropped onto the stone floor followed by a series of loud clatter. Simultaneously, the Binding Jinx on the younger boy lifted as he collapsed onto his knees.

          Harry dragged the boy onto his feet and pointed at the nearby staircase. 

          “Run!” he shouted. The younger boy immediately sprung into action as they stumbled down the steps onto the wood chip path that encircled the gardens. Aided by the cover of relative darkness, they sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them, and they did not stop until they made sure that no one was trailing them anymore. 

          Panting, Harry slumped against a vine-covered wall. His newly-rescued companion, a thin, grey-haired boy in a thin set of pyjamas, bent over and gulped in the air greedily.  When they had finally recovered their voices, the other boy gasped out a heartfelt, “Thank you... for... for saving me.”

          “No problem,” Harry’s voice came out at a high-pitched wheeze from the lack of breath. “What’s.... what’s your...  your name?”

          “Alex,” the other boy breathed out. “And... and you?”

          “Harry -” Harry spoke before he remembered he had a different identity now. “I... I mean, Turais. Nice to meet you, Alex.”

          Harry hastily held out a hand, hoping that the other person did not notice his slip of the tongue. Alex stared at the hand for a long, hesitant moment before he finally shook it.

          “So... what happened back there?”

          Alex’s eyes darted around nervously before he whispered, “I... I saw my father’s invitation to the Ball, but I knew he would never attend this... so I stole the invitation card and the doorbell that came with it. Today, the doorbell suddenly glowed and... the next thing I knew, I was here. Then, the other boy spotted me and held me against the wall, and then... and then, you came...”

          So the boy likely snuck out of the house without permission, which was something Harry completely understood and related to.

          “I don’t want to be here anymore...” Alex whispered, understandably shaken from the encounter, as he eyed the Manor above them with fear in his eyes. “Is there any other way you can bring me home without alerting… them?”

          “Well, where do you live? We can try to get you to a Floo?” Harry suggested, but at the other boy’s look of general confusion, he hedged a guess, “Do you... do you not even know your address?”

          Alex’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he nodded in affirmation.

          “How can you not know where you live?” asked Harry incredulously.

          “Well, you’re the one who didn’t even know your own name,” the other boy muttered. Then, a horrified expression dawned upon his face as he realized that he spoke his thoughts aloud. Alex immediately glanced at Harry’s face for any signs of anger and quickly apologized, “I... I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”

          “No, you’re right. I made a silly mistake,” Harry mumbled before clearing his throat. “Well… if you don’t know your address, there’s no point trying to Apparate or access the Floo….” A thought suddenly occurred to Harry as he breathed out, “Portkey. Do you still have the Portkey you arrived by?”

          “Portkey?” Alex asked with a blank expression. It was as if he was unfamiliar with the term.

          “A Portkey!” Harry repeated in exasperation, as if that would be helpful for the other boy to understand the term. Then, he tried to explain further, “The thing that brought you here from your home... The doorbell! You mentioned that you appeared here after you touched the glowing doorbell, right?”

          “Yes?”

          “Then, the doorbell is all you need!” Harry replied excitedly. “All the Portkeys for this Ball are pre-set with the arrival and departure times. As long as you hold on to it, you will be sent back home when it is activated later tonight! So, you have it, right?”

          Alex nodded as he reached into his left trouser pocket. Then, there was a flash of panic across his face when he started to rummage and turn out every pocket there was.

          “I think I lost somewhere back there,” Alex gasped.

          Eyeing the frightened boy before him, Harry put on a comforting smile and said gently, “Then we just need to find it. Don’t worry.”

          Despite the panic in Alex’s eyes, Harry could also detect a faint glimmer of hope and gratitude as the other boy nodded. Carefully, they retraced their footsteps and climbed up the staircase that led to the balcony where they met. Peeking around the corner of the wall, Harry looked around and saw an empty balcony.

          It seemed that no one was around at the moment. Then, a flash of gold in the distance caught Harry’s attention.

          “Over there,” Harry whispered. He patted Alex’s shoulder and pointed out the tiny, golden-bell-shaped object that lay in a dark corner. As the other boy gasped excitedly, a sense of doubt crept into Harry’s mind.

          Something was odd about the object’s placement.

          However, Alex started to run towards it before Harry could voice his concern. 

          “Incarcerous! ” a voice shouted from nearby as a streak of light struck Alex mid-stride. A thick rope wrapped itself around Alex tightly as he toppled forward with a surprised yelp.

          “Nice one, Nott,” a girl laughed as she emerged from behind a column. Then, two more teenagers - around sixteen years old - also walked into view as they circled the helpless, bound victim like a school of sharks. A boy crouched down in front of Alex and, with the faint light that was filtering from the corridor behind them, Harry could identify the large, red bruise circling his right eye socket. Harry then realized he was the same boy that bullied Alex before.

          Harry cursed under his breath at Alex’s haste and shrunk back further into the shadows. Fighting without a wand against three sixteen-year-olds and a potential wealth of Dark magic was ill-advised.

          “So, where is your other baby friend?!” Nott snarled, but Alex only glared back at the boy hatefully. “Speak now or suffer!”

          When Alex refused, the older boy kicked Alex in the stomach, who hissed out in pain. Harry winced as he started looking around for anything that could salvage the situation.

          “Aww... he looks so cute when he is angry,” the girl cooed as she prodded the boy’s cheek with her wand. Alex growled and attempted to bite the tip of her wand. The girl’s face morphed into a look of utter disgust as she wiped her wand on Alex’s robes before inspecting the damage. She shrieked, “This imp’s spit is on my wand! Someone fetch me some Cleaning Potion right now!”

          “Oh, do shut up, Travers. You’re going to bring all the Aurors out here,” snapped another boy who was leaning against the wall. “And Nott, the Silencing Charm.”

          “I haven’t learnt it yet!” Nott growled as his face flushed red. “You do it if you want to, Yaxley!”

          “Imbecile,” Yaxley muttered in a suffering tone as he pointed at Alex. “Silencio.

          Pleased with his work, Yaxley smirked as he walked past Nott and resumed his position leaning against the wall. With a mock tip of his head at the miffed Nott, he said, “As you were.”

          Nott turned around with a huff and trained his wand on the victim once again. Just as Nott was uttering the incantation, Harry dashed out of his hiding spot.

          “Serpensortia! - urgh!

          Harry slammed his body against Nott’s and his aim went wild. The boys tumbled onto the ground as the confused shouts filled the air. Behind them, a large green garden snake appeared in thin air and draped its long body over the bound figure. Alex’s eyes widened in fear as he tried to squirm violently to no avail. In the chaos, Harry seized Nott’s wand.

          Aiming at a shocked Yaxley and Travers in rapid succession, he shouted, “Stupefy! Stupefy!

          The two teenagers collapsed onto the ground without a struggle, and Harry quickly turned to face Nott, who stared at the wand tip against his chest and gulped heavily. Harry then lifted the Spells cast on Alex, who whimpering softly with the snake still wrapped around his shoulders.

          “Get it off me, please,” Alex pleaded with his eyes closed. “Turais, please...”

         ‘Too much noise. Needs... to hide,’ Harry heard the snake hiss as it tried to slither off Alex’s body.

          “Hey, Alex, just don’t move, alright,” Harry said soothingly as he continued to train his wand on Nott. “You trust me, right?”

          Alex nodded valiantly, and Harry tried to tap into his Parseltongue.

         “Hello, there… I am Turais... Pleas...e don’t bite my friend. He is... terrified of s… nakes….”

          The snake’s head turned to face Harry in surprise.

         “A human s...peaker?”

         “Yes... I s...peak,” Harry hissed and reached out his arm. “You can climb onto me and I will bring you s...somewhere warm with food later.”

         “S...sure, human s...peaker,” the snake nodded as he slithered onto his arm while unwrapping itself from Alex’s shoulders.

          Then, Harry detected the smattering of footsteps fast approaching. He summoned the doorbell and placed it in Alex’s trembling hands.

          “Take this and go,” Harry instructed Alex.

          “What about you?” Alex asked as he cast a worried glance at the open doorway where the noise was coming from.

          “I’ll be fine,” Harry said firmly.

          Alex looked at Harry as a myriad of expressions crossed his face. Finally, he whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

          Harry gave Alex a quick clasp on the shoulder and an encouraging smile, “Now go.”

          Just as Alex disappeared down the stairs once more, a large group of adults arrived on the balcony as they eyed the scene in utter shock. A woman immediately knelt before the unconscious teenagers and reported, “Mister Corban Yaxley and Miss Violet Travers are Stunned.”

          “Rennervate them now,” another voice said as an old man detached from the group and walked up next to Nott. 

          “Brutus! Are you -” The father cast a glance at the wand in Harry’s hand and bellowed, “Why does he have your wand? Give it back, you rascal.”

          “Watch your words, Lord Nott,” Arcturus’s voice said icily from behind as he walked to the front of the crowd with Orion and Walburga following behind him. “You just called my grandson a rascal.” 

          “Your grandson, Lord Black?” Lord Nott asked. He took a second, closer look at Harry. “You... you... ”

          However, he was spared from responding as a middle-aged man with pure white hair and icy blue eyes appeared. That man’s eyes were immediately drawn to the snake around Harry’s neck before his steely gaze honed in on Harry himself.

          “Can someone tell me what happened here?” His voice was calm, but Harry easily detected the fury laced in his words. “Anything to say, Master Nott.”

          “He… he.... attacked us, Lord Malfoy,” Nott accused blisteringly. “And... he... he... also tried to attack me with that snake of his.”

          “Master Turais Black, here, is a ten-year-old with no magical training,” Abraxas Malfoy asked cuttingly. “Am I to understand correctly that, according to your words, he defeated three sixteen-year-olds without a wand by Disarming you and Stunning two others? And also at some point, he Conjured up a snake to his aid.”

          “I... I...” Nott stuttered as beads of sweat gathered above his eyebrows. Grasping at straws, he pointed at the snake and started to weave an even more unlikely tale, “He... he talked to the snake, Lord Malfoy. He... he talked to it and... and directed it to... uhm... attack us - yes - That’s... that’s... that’s why we were caught by surprise -”

          Lord Nott signalled for his son to stop rambling. Then, he immediately said, “I do apologize for my son’s behaviour, Lord Malfoy. Brutus, apologize at once!”

          Nott glared at Harry, his face turning as red as his hair in humiliation. Under his father’s stern gaze, he gave a deep bow and muttered through his gritted teeth, “I’m sorry, Lord Malfoy. Please excuse my unacceptable behaviour. I will reflect on my misdeeds.”

          However, Lord Malfoy’s eyes were scrutinizing Harry for the entire duration of the forced apology.

          The unfortunate truth was that everyone knew Nott would not randomly attack his friends. Furthermore, it seemed like everyone thought Nott was as bright as Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and as capable as a Flobberworm. Therefore, despite no one accusing Harry of what happened, everyone knew - however improbable - that he was the one who Disarmed Nott and Stunned Travers and Yaxley.

          When the boy finished, Abraxas snapped his attention back to Lord Nott and hissed, “Lord Nott, it will be wise for you to impart on your son the utter idiocy of his actions and why he would ever think it was a good idea to perform magic in at an event full of Ministry officials.

          Lord Nott mumbled another apology while the snake moved its head closer to Harry’s ear. The group of on-lookers gasped as they saw the snake slither right up to Harry’s face with purpose and without malice.

         “Can I hide in your robes…? It is... a bit chilly out here.”

         “S...ure,” Harry hissed back as the snake started to coil itself inside Harry’s outer robe. At the unexpected sight, the adults started to murmur and gossip amongst each other. Even Abraxas Malfoy, who has maintained the calmest of appearance throughout this debacle, hitched a breath at Harry’s Parseltongue abilities.

          Nott, on the other side, shouted, “See! I told you he was talking to a snake -”

          “Shut up, boy!” Lord Nott reprimanded at once.

          “But -”

          “You’ve said quite enough today, boy!” 

          “Are you in trouble, human?” The snake hissed in his ear.

          “I don’t know.” Harry hissed back as he observed his family, rooted in their spots. Although they maintained a calm and controlled appearance, Harry knew from the look in their eyes that they were shocked in awe and, for his mother, in a rage. “Maybe.” 

         As Harry was led indoors, he caught a glimpse of a head peeking out behind a hedge. He gave the other boy a reassuring smile and waved him away with the hopes that he would return home safely.

 

***

        

          Harry’s Parselmouth ability spread like wildfire during the Ball and was the sole topic of conversation for the night. Lord Malfoy was not pleased by how he was upstaged by a ten-year-old, especially the Black heir, at his own ball.

         When the family entourage returned to 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry was immediately dragged to the kitchen for interrogation.

          “Can you explain your actions?” Orion sounded disappointed, and Harry’s heart clenched.

          “I swear I didn’t goad Nott into doing anything, Father,” Harry said exasperatedly. Eyeing all the adults around the room, he explained, “I didn’t mention this before because I didn’t want to get the other person in trouble, but there was a boy called Alex, who Nott was bullying. I stepped in to rescue him -”

          “Who’s this Alex?” Arcturus interrupted.

          “I don’t know. This was the first time we’ve met.”

          “And why on earth would you help someone you don’t know?” Walburga asked.

          “Oh, hush, and let me ask the questions that matter, will you?” Arcturus snapped irritably. “Did you not ask for his family name?”

          “It didn’t occur to me then that it matters.”

          “So be it. How did you rescue him? By stealing Nott’s wand?”

          “No,” Harry answered. “He was pinning Alex down with a spell, and I… well - I punched him in the face.”

          Orion coughed in surprise while Walburga spat in disdain, “What a crude, Muggle way!”

          Ignoring his daughter-in-law, Arcturus asked, “And you stole his wand?”

          “No,” Harry said. “But looking back, I should’ve. We just ran away.”

          Walburga roared, “We Blacks do not run away from our enemies -”

          “Will you shut up?” Arcturus thundered. Walburga immediately snapped her jaws shut as Arcturus turned back to his line of questioning.

          “Then how did you end up with his wand?”

          “So we ran away, and Alex revealed that he arrived at the Ball using a Portkey without his father knowing. He wanted to return home without alerting the host, so I told him that the same Portkey would bring him home in several hours. However, we then discovered that he lost the Portkey along the way. So, we returned to the same location in search of it,” Harry said. “When we arrived, Alex was ambushed by Nott and his friends while I was safely hidden out of view. And then, when Nott was about to cast a Curse on him, I was forced to leave my hiding spot.

          “I slammed into him, and his wand fell out of his hand, but not before he conjured up a snake. So, I successfully grabbed his wand and knocked Travers and Yaxley unconscious. Then, I freed Alex and told him to run away just before all of you arrived at the scene,” concluded Harry.

          “How do you know the Stunning Spell?” Orion questioned. “Or any Spell, for that matter.”

          “It doesn’t matter how Turais did it, or if Turais did it,” Arcturus said with a shrewd expression on his face. “The fact remains that Turais was standing at the scene with Nott’s wand in his hand while Yaxley and Travers were found unconscious. Everyone’s impression is that Turais did it, and this is good news for us.”

          “Why?” Walburga asked, intrigued.

          “Because now everyone knows that Turais, a ten-year-old who has never stepped foot in Hogwarts, managed to win a fight against three sixteen-year-olds without a wand,” Arcturus explained with a satisfied smile on his face. “The shame that Lord Nott and Lord Yaxley must be feeling right now… And yes, your Parseltongue abilities as well….”

          “I wanted to discuss about that since we’ve returned,” Walburga spoke eagerly. “We are not related to Salazar Slytherin in any way. How could my son have this rare, coveted ability?”

          “That question, we might never be able to answer,” Arcturus said as he stared directly at Harry. “What I am more interested in knowing, however, is when Turais discovered his abilities….”

          “I just discovered it?” Harry feigned innocence, though knowing it was probably a fruitless endeavour.

          “How dare you lie to me? How dare you hide this information from me?!” Walburga roared and slammed her fist on the table. “I’m your mother.”

          “Walburga, control yourself!” Arcturus said warningly. Turning his focus onto Harry, he continued, “Cut the act. There is no way that you could’ve kept this talent hidden without deliberately doing so. And I think I know what you were trying to do, Turais. You revealed your ability in a public manner because you wanted to make sure everyone, including us, could not dismiss your abilities. What you want is leverage, that much is clear. But for what, though? That’s the real question.”

          There was a sense of irritation from the man, but Harry also noticed the underlying mirth and approval in his eyes.

          Frankly, Harry did not have anything in mind nor plots to hatch. But if everyone was going to assume he had some nefarious purpose, he might as well seize the opportunity to force Walburga into becoming a more dutiful mother.

          “Yes, I wanted leverage,” Harry replied firmly. “But all I wanted was leverage against my mother so I can make demands that she cannot refuse.”

          Forcing himself to look at the raging Walburga dead in the eyes, Harry twisted his lips to form a mischievous smirk as he continued, “Oh… can you just imagine the faces of your friends if they ever hear that you’ve managed to force away a Parselmouth heir? I wouldn’t have to worry at all since any family will accept me simply because of my gift.”

          “How dare you, you insolent brat?!” Walburga roared.

          “I am glad that I can finally voice my grievances about your maltreatment of my brothers and me,” Harry said hotly. “That I can make sure your cruel, sadistic tendencies can be put under check. And that I can rid ourselves from your poisonous words and ideas -”

          “You wicked child! Crucio! ” Walburga shrieked as she pulled out her wand. Harry saw a glimpse of the infernal rage on her face, but before he could react, the Unforgivable slammed into him as he felt a thousand red-hot knives stabbing at every inch of his skin and twisting them into his body.

          Harry’s throat tore out a blood-curdling scream. But before he knew it, it was over.

          Harry could sense his father hovering over his body with distress and immense concern through his hazy, pain-addled mind. In the distance, he saw Arcturus with his wand pointed at his mother, who was tied up and Silenced on a chair.

          The violent display by Walburga shook Harry to his core. He had never thought his mother would torture her own child with the Cruciatus Curse. And if she were capable of doing this to Harry, Sirius and Regulus would never be safe, especially when he left for Hogwarts.

          This thought spurred a sense of urgency in Harry. Wincing at his aching body and ignoring his father’s concerns for the moment, Harry stumbled back onto his feet and placed both hands onto the table. He steadied himself and stared directly into his mother’s eyes. He then spoke as calmly as his trembling lips could manage, “I did it... I did it because now I can demand that you never set foot in this household again.”

          With that, the last of Harry’s strength dissipated as he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.

 

***

 

          Harry woke up and slowly creaked his eyes open inch by inch, stopping only to adapt to the brightness of the environment. Eventually, he focused on the white ceiling and emerald walls.

          “Send for Orion,” Harry heard someone say in an echoing and distorted voice. 

          “Where am I?” Harry mumbled.

          He tried to tilt his head to observe his surroundings but found himself quite immobile. His body felt like it was run over by the Hogwarts Express more than once. Every bone and every joint in his body ached and burned. His head felt as if a brick was smashing against his skull and fracturing it into a million pieces.

          “Don’t try to move, Turais,” a voice whispered gently beside his ear. “You are under a medically-induced Stasis.”

          Then, a shadow leaned over his body and came into his field of vision. She was a lady with greying hair and a grandmotherly disposition. Just as Harry was about to ask who she was, her name appeared inside Harry’s mind.

          Sybil Quinn. She was the private Healer of the Black family who delivered Turais when he was born.

          “I’m still in the past...” Harry muttered as he allowed his heavy eyelids to close. “This is real... this is not a dream...”

          “Pardon me?” Sybil asked, clearly perplexed by Harry’s incoherent words.

          But then, the bedroom door flew open as Orion immediately held Harry’s immobile hand inside his.

          “Is he alright?” Orion asked frantically. His eyes roamed across Harry’s face and body as if he was scrutinizing his son for any injury or discomfort.

          “Turais is recovering well, Orion,” Sybil said calmly. “Breathe.”

          Orion nodded his head fiercely as though he was trying to convince himself that was the truth. He turned his full attention back on Harry, and it was then that Harry saw the swirling grey pair of eyes glistened with unshed tears. They were like a dissipating winter storm that barely clouded the haunted emotions welled below. Harry took in the bloodless face that was tense with constraint, the strained smile formed by the tight muscles and lines that never reached his eyes, and the quivering moustache that covered his trembling upper lip.

          The flood of fatherly affection from Orion had unlocked something within Harry’s heart that he had valiantly kept at bay for nineteen years. It was something that he had always yearned for but never dared to hope for. It was something that he imagined having in his happiest dreams and losing in his darkest nightmare. It was something that he thought he would never have the chance to experience… 

          Until now.

          There was an incessant throb in Harry’s heart and a suffocating weight on his chest as though a tsunami of cement was mercilessly crushing the last breath out of his lungs.

         Orion cooed, “It’s alright, Turais. I’m here. Your dada is here.”

          Those reassuring words were spoken with such love and affection, and Harry could not keep the tears from streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed cathartically. The overwhelming emotions that Turais felt - and that he felt, for the first time -  both awed and terrified him.

          Unaware of Harry’s emotional upheaval, Orion comforted the crying boy gently, “I know it hurts, but you are safe now. Safe with me.”

          “Promise?” Harry asked with a sniff.

          “I promise, Turais,” Orion choked out shakily as angry, guilty-ladened tears started to well up in his eyes. “What your mother did to you... it was an unspeakable abomination. She will never lay a finger on you, nor your brothers, ever again.”

Chapter 8: Worlds Collide (revised)

Summary:

Rewritten.

- ravenclawblues 2022-01-10

Chapter Text


CHAPTER EIGHT

WORLDS COLLIDE


 

November 23, 1967 (Thursday)

 

Driver arrested after mother and son died in fatal Essex car crash

 Twin brother in car miraculously survives unscathed

 

A 35-year-old woman and her 9-year-old son have died after a truck driver crashed into a family car in Essex. The 22-year-old truck driver was arrested at the scene of the crash in Loughton in the early hours of Sunday on suspicion of causing death by dangerous driving, causing serious injury by dangerous driving and perverting the course of justice.

The man, from Loughton, was taken to hospital, where he is being treated for what are believed to be minor injuries.

Essex police appealed for people who may have witnessed the incident to come forward...

 

***

 

          Harry James Potter, now known to the world as Turais Orion Black, was sitting at his desk in front of the open window. As he stared off into the darkness illuminated only by the scant street lamps, he thought back to the several months that had passed since he first arrived in the past.

         In that time, Turais allowed himself to shed his former name and fully assume his role as the eldest son and heir of Orion Black. He quickly familiarized himself with the Black family history, the intricate relations in the pureblood circles, and the allies and foes of the Blacks. It was then that Turais discovered the Potters and the Blacks shared a long, tumultuous relationship that abruptly transitioned into a two-decades-long period of estrangement after Dorea Black’s marriage to Charlus Potter.

         Turais could only hope that one day, with his intervention, that the families would be able to mend their relationship.

         Little by little, Turais also wrapped his mind around the fact that he was now part of a family that loved him dearly and which he loved in return. One of the biggest challenges for him was to readjust his relationship with Sirius. Instead of thinking of him as a younger version of his late godfather, Turais learnt to embrace Sirius as his younger brother. And frankly, Turais loved the new dynamics more than he expected. Something about being in such a close proximity to Sirius and growing up with him thrilled Turais. 

         Finally, Turais began to understand why Death had arranged for him to assume this identity.

         After the Malfoy Ball and Walburga’s attempted torture on Turais, Arcturus had evicted Walburga from 12 Grimmauld Place. While not technically divorced, as purebloods never divorced, Orion and Walburga were seperated in all ways but in name. This living arrangement was a closely-kept secret with the family, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time until people realized that Walburga and Turais would never appear in the same event.

         Orion and his brothers transitioned into their new lives without the matriarch surprisingly easily, which further pointed out the lack of bonding between her and her children. While Turais was glad that he had rid Sirius and Regulus of Walburga’s poisonous influence, he could not help but wonder how much the trajectory of his family’s future had changed from his series of decisions on that fateful day.

          It was a moment of reckoning as Turais thought back on Hermione’s words to not foolishly meddle with time. That piece of advice was more difficult to adhere to than Turais had ever thought. But all of that was now set in stone, and all Turais could do was to be more mindful of his actions in the future. But even then, he was not confident how much success he would have on that front.

         Lost in his contemplative thoughts, Turais barely noticed that the skies were already lightening considerably compared to several minutes ago.

         One might wonder why he was awake at this ungodly hour. It was because Turais was expecting his Hogwarts letter. And unlike the first time, he had a family waiting to celebrate the moment with him.

         There was a soft, alerting hoot followed by a fluttering of wings as a handsome tawny owl landed on the sill of his window.

         Despite preparing for this moment, Turais could not help but gasp out in excitement at the sight of the Hogwarts seal.

Mr T. Black,

The Second-Largest Bedroom on the Fourth Floor,

12 Grimmauld Place,

Islington,

London

         “Thank you,” Turais whispered breathlessly as he untied the envelope from the owl’s outstretched leg. He immediately offered the prepared treat and the owl nibbled on it hungrily. When it was finished, it gave a grateful hoot before flying off. Turais then turned to look at the two slumbering figures that were huddled together closely in his bed.

         “Siri, Reggie,” Turais called out while shaking his brothers gently. “Wake up.”

         “One more minute, please,” Sirius muttered as he squirmed away from Turais’s touch.

         “My Hogwarts letter is here.”

         “I said one more minute, Turais,” Sirius groaned and dragged the duvet up to cover his face. Turais waited for a few seconds when Sirius suddenly sat up, eyes wide and alert, as he allowed the blanket to spill onto the floor. Gaping at Turais and the letter in his hand, Sirius shouted ecstatically, “Turais, your Hogwarts letter is here!”

         “I know,” Turais chuckled as Sirius threw himself onto Turais for a big hug. Then, he turned around and shook Regulus until he opened his bleary eyes.

         “Reggie! Turais’s letter has arrived!”

         “What?” Regulus croaked sleepily. Turais saw the exact moment the words registered in his mind as he immediately sat up as well. “Really?!”

          Turais waved the envelope in his hand with a grin and both brothers cheered. They ran down to the kitchen and found that Orion was already sitting at the table nursing a strong cup of builder’s tea.

          “Turais’s letter from Hogwarts has arrived!” Sirius shouted.

          “And so I’ve heard,” Orion grinned widely. Eyeing the excitement and jubilation amongst his three sons, he asked, “And I gather that you would like to go to Diagon Alley today then?”

         “Yes!” The three boys shouted in unison.

         “Alright, we will go there after you finish your breakfast -” The three boys cheered. Orion quickly amended when the children were about to speak up again, “- at least two eggs, one piece of toast, and a glass of juice.”

         Groans filled the room as Orion chuckled.

 

***

 

         Instead of visiting Madam Malkin’s, Turais found himself in Twilfitt and Tattings, a bespoke tailor shop on Optim Alley. Compared to the dodgy haunts of Knockturn Alley and vibrant activities of Diagon Alley, Optim Alley was an impressive and lavish high-end shopping street lined with elegantly old-fashioned shops that offered fine dining, jewellery, bespoke clothing, and any expensive accessories one could imagine: antique heirlooms, goblin-wrought armours, crystals and china, custom-made canes, and bejewelled birdcages just to name a few.

         “Welcome, Master Black,” a short, plump man bowed as he opened the door for the family to enter. “I have just received the notice of your arrival.”

         "Hello Dardanus, my eldest son was quite eager to start his shopping for school robes. I hope I’ve not come at an inconvenient time,” Orion spoke cooly as he eyed the two figures currently occupying the single studio ahead.

         Dardanus hesitated slightly, “Master Black, Trebonius is currently attending another customer. But - in fact, I think he’s done - let me check with him right now.” Dardanus hurried down the room to a wizard who was busily exacting measurements as scissors and measuring tape swirled around the boy who stood atop a stool. 

         The two men exchanged a series of quick whispers and they both eyed the Black family and the little boy. Turais was able to get snippets of the heated conversation between the tailors and the boy.

         “ - refuse to - ”

         “ - Lord Black’s eldest grandson -”

         “Father, we can just come back later,” Turais said.

         “It’s fine, Turais. They wouldn’t want to upset the Black family,” Orion said simply as he observed the exchange with little interest.

         “ - was here first, I don’t care -”

         “ - boy, you can go somewhere else -”

         Finally, the little boy stomped off the stool as Dardanus scurried back with a bright smile plastered on his face.

         “Master Turais Black, please come with me,” the man bowed deeply to his waist as Orion nodded at him. “Master Black, please feel free to stay in the waiting lounge or return in half an hour.”

         “Turais, we’ll be waiting at Fawkswind's Boutique next door,” Orion said as they departed.

         Turais walked into the room and stepped onto the stool as the tailor directed. Immediately, the tools started to fly around his body in flashes of gold and silver as the large cloth on the work table carved out pieces of fabric simultaneously.

         The two tailors worked in a fast but orderly fashion. It was fascinating to see how they interchanged places and items in perfect synchronicity as the basic outlines of his robes began to form before his eyes.

         While he was standing idly, he let his attention wander to the boy who sat on a plush couch at the corner of the room. Turais could see his furious glares as he sulked moodily. Turais felt apologetic that the boy was unceremoniously removed from his measuring just because the tailors wanted to service the Blacks first. 

         Half an hour later, he was fitted into his robes as they made notes and pinned the fabrics where further adjustments had to be made for the perfect fit. Then, he was sent off to Orion with a scheduled final fitting a week later.

         As Turais exited the room, he sent an apologetic look at the brown-haired boy in the corner with a quiet “Sorry,” but he only received a glare of intense loathing and disgust. 

         “Save your crocodile tears, Black .”

         Turais shifted uncomfortably under the gaze from those hateful eyes.

 

***

 

         Turais was browsing the Quidditch section in Flourish and Blotts when he saw a boy with messy, black hair and glasses at the highest rung of a ladder with a stack of diaries in his hands. There was mischievous glint in his eyes as he tried to balance it on top of the slightly ajared door. Turais let out a surprised gasp at the unexpected sight as he desperately tried to keep his emotions at bay and to avoid an emotional breakdown. 

          Although Turais had known that he would eventually meet his once-father, it was merely a pleasant afterthought at this point as he thought that day was still more than two years away.

         “Hey, Turais -” The unsuspecting Sirius opened the door. As he walked through, he fell victim to a collapsing pile of books that descended upon his head.

         “James Fleamont Potter!” A woman, Turais recognized her as Euphemia Potter, rushed towards the two boys as she yelled, “Apologize to the young man right now !”

         “It’s okay, ma’am. That was quite funny, actually,” Sirius grinned at the boy and extended his hand. “My name is Sirius Black, nice to make your acquaintance.”

         James visibly blanched at the name, but composed himself quickly to take his hand. “As you probably have heard my mum, my name is James Potter. Nice to meet you too. You seem alright for a Dark wizard -”

         “James!” His mother snapped and smacked her son’s head. “Don’t be so rude! Where are your manners?” Despite the scolding, Turais saw her eyes narrowed at Sirius by just a fraction.

         “Urm, thank you?” Sirius said to the other boy as he rubbed the back of his neck.

         After ensuring his emotions were properly suppressed, Turais composed himself and headed over. Looking at his father and grandmother from his previous life, he asked his brother, “Hey Siri, who's your new friend?”

         “Hey Turais, this is James Potter and his mother. James dropped a pile of books on me, which was quite hilarious. And this is my older brother, Master Turais Black.”

         “Master Turais Black, you said?” James’s mother asked pointedly. “So your grandfather is Lord Black?”

         “Yes.”

         “Woah, what does he look like?” James gasped. “People say he’s evil -”

         “James, I’m warning you,” Mrs Potter glared at her son again disapprovingly and eyed the Black brothers warily. Sirius frowned at the words but shrugged it off fairly quickly.

         “So, what are you doing here?” asked James.

         “Turais is starting at Hogwarts this year, he received the letter this morning!” Sirius said excitedly.

         “No way! I want to go to Hogwarts too, but mum says I need to wait for two more years,” James responded disappointingly.

         “So you’re nine too? We’re the same age!” Sirius jumped at the thought that his new friend would be attending Hogwarts at the same time he was.

         “Wicked! We can be the same house and prank everyone -” 

         “How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of trouble, James!” Mrs Potter said exasperatedly. Noticing that Orion was almost finished paying for Turais’s school books, she told James, “James and I best head out. Say goodbye to your new friends now, James.”

         “Aw, mum! I just met Sirius -"

         "Now, James!"

         James gulped at his mother's tone and did as instructed. "Bye, Sirius. Bye, Turais. I reckon I will see you later.”

         He waved at them as Mrs Potter hastily dragged the reluctant boy away from the shop and disappeared through the doorway.

         Moments later, Orion and Regulus approached the boys. 

         “So, we have shopped for everything except your wand and cauldron. Turais, why don’t you take Sirius with you for your wand-shopping while Regulus and I head to the apothecary?”

         "Sounds like a plan," Turais said and they started to walk towards Ollivander’s. Orion watched Sirius and Turais enter the wand shop before walking with Regulus into the apothecary next door.

          There was a distant chime deep inside the shop as they approached the counter. Suddenly, an old man suddenly appeared from beside it. Sirius gasped and gripped Turais tightly.

         “Just received your Hogwarts letter, I presume?” The man asked as he adjusted the round-rimmed spectacles over his wrinkly face and greying hair on both sides of his head but none on top.

         They both nodded.

         “You two children are sure eager. You’re my first customers for first-year wands this summer,” the man said.

         “Actually, only my brother is getting his wand. I’m going to attend Hogwarts in two years,” Sirius said quietly, tugging on Turais’s sleeve.

         “Hmm… alright. Judging from your appearance and your unusual green eyes, you must be Master Turais Black.” Mr Ollivander’s wispy silver eyes scanned over his features and ended in his eyes.

         Without breaking eye contact, Turais spoke for the first time since he set foot in the shop. “You are correct, Mr Ollivander.”

         “Your father, Master Black, was chosen for an English Oak wand. Fourteen inches. Unicorn hair. Supple. Restraint in power but exceptionally strong for non-verbal and defensive magic. Rare combination for a Black yet a perfect match.”

         Turais nodded at the words.

         “Your mother, Mistress Black, held a very different wand. Nine and three quarters inches long, stiff, made of Walnut wood with a core of dragon heartstring,” Ollivander did not elaborate any further. 

         “And now before me stands… the son of two wand-owners with highly conflicting wands, and an alleged Parselmouth if the rumours are to be believed. I wonder which wand you will favour… of course, when I say favour - it really is the wand that chooses the owner… 

         “Which is your wand arm?” Mr Ollivander snapped out of his thoughts suddenly and asked.

         “Right,” Turais lifted his arm as a measuring tape appeared from thin air and started to measure every possible body metric. Shoulder to fingertip. Armpit to knee. Nose to navel.

         “That will do,” the measuring tape contracted and returned to the countertop and fell idle. “Here, Mr Black. Try this one. Yew and dragon heartstring. Ten inches. Rigid. Give it a wave.”

         Turais took the wand and waved it around, feeling nothing, and handed it back to Mr Ollivander.

         “Walnut and unicorn hair. Twelve and a half inches. Quite springy. Try -”

         Before Turais can give it a proper wave, Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand.

         “No, that is not right - here, ebony and unicorn hair. Nine inches. Bendy. Try it out.”

         Turais tried again but Mr Ollivander shook his head and took it away, muttering excitedly. As the pile of tried wands mounted higher and higher, Turais grimaced internally. He thought that without his fate being tied to Voldemort, he would have a simpler time for his wand choosing. But alas, nothing was ever simple for him.

         “I wonder -” Turais snapped out of his reverie when Mr Ollivander spoke after a long silence. “ - yes, why not - try this, Mr Black. Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple.”

         ‘My old wand.’

         Turais took the wand gingerly, in anticipation. Mr Ollivander was also staring at him intently. 

         He gave it a flick.

         But, unlike last time, the wand remained cold and lifeless in his hand. Disappointed, he placed it back on the counter.

         Perhaps seeing his crestfallen face, Mr Ollivander looked at him softly and said, “No worries, Mr Black. Everyone who walked through this door left with a wand. You are a tricky customer, but the perfect match is in here somewhere -”

         Suddenly, his eyes glazed over in thought. “ - Hmmm, oh yes - why did I not think of this sooner - yes, I wonder - how unusual.” Mr Ollivander disappeared into the back of his shop and for several minutes, Turais heard the faint noises of falling boxes. During his absence, he heard the bell chime again as he saw his father and youngest brother entering the shop with a large owl cage in tow. On the perch, a pure white snowy owl sat and hooted sleepily.

         “Turais, are you still not finished yet?” Orion then eyed the mountain of tried wands and raised his eyebrows. “Ollivander must be very excited.”

         Turais grimaced.

         “Yup! He was practically leaping up and down,” Sirius spoke on his behalf.

         “Ah, Master Black, how is your wand working for you?” Mr Ollivander asked when he re-emerged.

         “Very well, thank you. I hope my son here is not giving you too much trouble?”

         “No, no - I love a tricky customer,” he muttered mindlessly, fixing his pale gaze at Turais. The father shared a knowing glance with his eldest son at the comment. “This wand here, was one of the first wands I have ever created since my Mastery and the only time I used this particular wand core. Try this, Mr Black.” 

         Turais held the wand and immediately sensed an inferno of warmth swirling through his right arm towards his core as they hummed in syncopation. He raised the wand above his head and a stream of pure white light shot from the end like a waterfall, filling the room in a blinding haze. As the light dimmed, Mr Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, very curious.”

         “What is very curious, Mr Ollivander?” Turais asked while feeling a bit of déjà vu.

         “Mr Black, this wand is highly unusual. While I remember every single wand that I have ever fashioned, this wand’s creation fascinated me the most. It was during my first journey in search for wand woods after my Mastery when I came across a single tree that grew amongst the reed banks of a treacherous river. A single strand of Thestral tail hair was tangled around its lowest branch, yet there was no other vegetation or creatures within miles. The tree called out to me and offered me that particular branch, to which I was bound by oath to collect. I have only found that place once more for yet another presentation, but it was barely recognizable then and I have never found the place since.

         "A few months later as I was returning home, I encountered a peculiar incident. Across my path, the body of a horned serpent laid. Judging by its state, it could not have been dead for more than an hour. This creature is not native to Britain, yet here one was in front of me. After meditating on the matter, I decided to collect its horn.

         “And thus, the wand in your hand was born. Elder and horned serpent horn. Eleven and a half inches. Flexible yet rigid.”

         “Did you say elder wood, Mr Ollivander?” Orion took in a sharp breath.

         “Yes, Mr Black. Elder - the rarest wand wood of all. Extremely difficult to pair and even more difficult to keep ownership of. Though its wand core will aid in that task for the horned serpent horn is highly attuned to a Parselmouth. I have only offered this wand once before, to whom it rejected. He went on to be chosen by another equally powerful wand. It seems that your son is destined for greatness.”

         Turais shivered at his words. Sensing his discomfort, his father quickly paid six gold Galleons and Mr Ollivander bowed as them exited his shop.

         “That man is brilliant, but he always manages to make me feel unwelcomed,” Orion said once they were a fair distance away. Turais nodded in agreement.

 

***

 

         “Father, why do people call us a Dark family?” Sirius asked Orion when they returned home.

         “Those people are usually from Light families. They think that just because we amassed more knowledge about so-called ‘Dark magic’ and are better at performing them, therefore, we are considered ‘Dark’,” Orion explained as he set Turais’s school supplies on the kitchen table. Kreacher immediately charmed them and started to put them away.

         “And why do people call Grandfather evil?” Sirius continued asking.

         “Who told you that, Sirius?” Orion breathed harshly.

         “J... just a new... friend I met in the bookshop today. His name is James Potter.”

         “Ah, that explains it. The Potter family is traditionally a Light family, that’s why he thinks our family is evil.”

         “But that’s not fair! He just met me, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know my grandfather. Why can he call us evil when he doesn’t know a thing about us?” Sirius fumed angrily.

         “Sirius, don’t be upset. They are just prejudiced people against Dark families. Their opinions don't matter. What matters is your opinion. Do you think your grandfather is evil?” Orion asked.

         “Well... no, father,” Sirius said. “He is stern and a stickler for etiquette and rules, but he is definitely not evil . Mother and Bellatrix are evil.”

         Orion grimaced at the words but did not comment on it. “As long as you know that, it does not matter what others think of our family, do you understand? Families like the Potters will never understand our ways. They have strayed too far from their roots.”

         “Yes, father. But I don’t think I like him anymore, he’s mean,” said Sirius with a frown.

         "Then simply dissociate yourself from him, Sirius," Orion caressed Sirius’s hair gently.

         "I guess... so."

         Turais observed the conversation with deep concern and wondered if he had irreversibly impacted James and Sirius’s friendship in this timeline.

 

***

 

         For Turais’s eleventh birthday, a celebration was planned at 12 Grimmauld Place with all the extended family present. The notable absence was Walburga and some members from her side of the family in a show of solidarity against Arcturus and Orion. Pollux, Walburga’s father was present, although it seemed as though he wished to be anywhere but there.

         Turais’s wand choice, as expected, garnered the most attention. Arcturus was very pleased that he was chosen for an elder wand, the first in the family, and with a horned serpent horn core, another first. To most, the wand core merely confirmed his Parseltongue ability.

         After the party concluded, Orion went up to Turais’s bedroom privately.

         “Turais, this ring -” Orion held out a large, golden band with the Black crest engraved on top that Turais had seen on his father's index finger at all times. It was the same ring that Sirius threw out unceremoniously in the original timeline. “- was given to me by your grandfather when I was eleven, and now, I am giving it to you.”

         Orion held Turais’s hand and slipped the over-sized ring over his left index finger. The ring slowly shrunk down until it rested snugly past the second knuckle. 

         “Thank you, father,” Turais said, shocked, as he felt the strong thrum of magic from the object. Turais examined the intricate engravings on the ring and the protective runes that emanated and coiled around the object. “But I’m afraid I might lose something so valuable.”

         Orion laughed at his son’s genuine concern. “That was the first thing that I asked when I first received it, too. Don’t worry, it has strong family magic that protects it from being stolen or taken off forcefully. Only you will be able to take it off once it’s on your finger, and hopefully, that is the time when you give this ring to your heir.”

         Turais twisted the ring around his finger, suddenly feeling a heavy weight of responsibility from this little object. 

         Orion patted his shoulder and sighed. “I can’t believe you are eleven already. It seems like yesterday when you were just a tiny, little baby I could rock in my arms. But in one month, you will be starting at Hogwarts.” He leaned forward to embrace his son, who returned the affectionate gesture. “Turais, I will miss you dearly.”

         “And I as well, father,” said Turais sincerely.

         Orion released him and held his shoulders.

         “I want to talk to you about Hogwarts and what to expect.”

         Orion’s eyes suddenly hardened and Turais blinked incomprehensibly at the sudden change.

         “Turais, you have been sheltered from the outside world for most of your life. And I hope you feel loved by your family as well. Even when you started attending balls and parties, your family was by your side and the attendees were mostly close family friends or like-minded acquaintances. However, once you arrive at Hogwarts, you will meet many people who will dislike you for your family and what it stands for. Remember to stay close with your friends and fellow Slytherins. You know who they are, right?”

         “Yes, father,” Turais replied dutifully. In fact, several of his “new Slytherin friends” were invited to his birthday party, including a few who were in the same year as he was. However, after meeting them briefly, Turais found that he shared few things in common with most. The only exceptions were Lord Steward’s son, Master Steward, and an upperclassman called Evelyn Napier. They were the only two whom Turais could plausibly imagine striking up a genuine friendship.

         “That being said, also be careful of your housemates. Trust no one and be on constant alert. In Slytherin, there is a hierarchy in which everyone in the House must obey. As an heir of a prominent pureblood family, you are more fortunate than most as they will respect you for your station and status. But you might be forced to follow the lead of older students, such as Lucius Malfoy. Although I doubt he, or anyone for that matter, would dare instigate a feud against the Blacks. But for your safety and my peace of mind, please avoid any confrontation.”

         “I will be careful, father. Don’t worry about me,” Turais said, surprised by his father’s assessment of his own House.

         “How can I not, Turais? You are my precious son... But you do worry me less as opposed to your brothers, especially Sirius. I don’t even know how he will survive Slytherin when the time comes for him to go to Hogwarts,” Orion sighed again.

         “Did you climb to the top of that hierarchy, father?” asked Turais.

         “No, although I was never in the top circles, I was well-protected thanks to my family name and I was able to live through my years in relative peace.”

         Turais nodded at the information. Already, a plan began to formulate in his mind. Unlike his father, Turais knew the only way to bridge the growing chasm between Slytherin and the other Houses was to climb to the apex of the Slytherin hierarchy and seize control.

         He would succeed because he must succeed.

 

***

 

         Turais was preparing for his final night at 12 Grimmauld Place before heading to Hogwarts. At that thought, Turais was surprised at the sense of loss inside of him. As Harry Potter, the last day of summer always meant that he was finally freed from the clutches of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. But now, this day was associated with leaving Orion, Sirius, and Regulus behind.

         Instead of the absolute joy he used to experience, Turais’s emotions were more nuanced and complicated now. 

         And for Turais, this was good news.

         There was a knock on the door and Turais opened it to reveal his brothers. Sirius never bothered to knock, so Turais was surprised by the display.

         “What’s the matter?” Turais asked, eyeing the forlorn expression on their faces.

         Sirius and Regulus looked up at Turais wordlessly for a long moment before they leaped into Turais’s arms and sent them all crashing onto the mattress.

         “Oof - do you two know how heavy you are?” Turais said as he wiped Sirius’s long locks out of his face.

         “Funny that you're the one to talk...” Sirius mumbled into his neck. Regulus voiced his agreement in a grunt.

         “Well, you're not going to hear my voice again until December so...”

         “I'll miss you,” Sirius suddenly blurted out as he lifted his head and looked down on his face. “Well... maybe not your bossiness... or your stinky breath... or...”

         “Sirius, stop talking," Regulus interjected.

         Sirius smacked Regulus on the head and he yelped. “I'm your older brother, don't be disrespectful to your elders.”

         “Yeah? Make me,” Regulus blew a raspberry as he leaped off the bed and out of the room while Sirius immediately gave chase.

         “Wait until I catch you,” Sirius’s voice drifted from the open door. Their footsteps echoed thunderously up and down the hallways and stairs between the occasional shouts and horseplay.

         A door opened downstairs and Orion's voice shouted loudly. “SIRIUS! STOP STRANGLING REGULUS!”

         The scuffling stopped abruptly and a few moments later, a disgruntled Orion in his night-shirt and pajamas dragged the two brothers by the collar of their shirts and deposited them at Turais’s door. 

         “Turais, please put up with these two for one more night. Sirius, Regulus, behave and go to bed.”

         The three brothers did as instructed as Orion tucked them into bed. Just as Orion was about to leave, Regulus asked shyly, “Father, will you tell Turais one last bedtime story? He really likes them.”

         Orion glanced at Turais, amused, and he returned a grin and a nod.

         “Of course, Regulus. What a splendid idea.” They both knew it was Regulus who wanted to hear the stories but they would never point it out.

         Sirius shuffled over to make space as Orion settled on the edge of the bed beside the pillows. 

         “Siri, your cold feet!” Turais hissed as his brother wormed his leg around his waist. Sirius grinned mischievously and just coiled around him tighter.

         “Not you too, Reggie!”

         Regulus, seemingly trying to outshine Sirius, decided that he wanted to physically burrow himself into Turais and placed himself squarely on his chest as Turais’s arm wrapped around his back. He was going to wake up sore again.

         “Are you ready for the story?” Orion asked when the now-conjoined brothers finally settled down.

         “Yes!” Regulus shouted excitedly. Orion chuckled as leaned back on the bedpost and started narrating.

         “Once upon a time, there was an enchanted and enclosed garden…”

         Turais focused on the warmth from Orion's voice and the familiar weight and heat of Sirius and Regulus’s bodies snugged up against him closely. He felt as though he was encased in a cocoon of happiness and contentment. And he didn't want it to end.

         He realized that this was one of life's perfect moments. With a smile on his face, Turais slowly drifted to sleep - at least for a few minutes until Sirius accidentally kicked him in the privates.

 

***

 

         The three Black brothers emerged from Turais’s room bleary-eyed from the lack of sleep yesterday night. Despite Orion's narration of the entire collection of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, they were still too excited at the prospect of the start of school term to sleep properly.

         Frankly, Turais still couldn’t believe he was finally going back to Hogwarts. Although this time, instead of pure ecstasy as he had felt as Harry Potter, he felt a pang of guilt and sadness for leaving his brothers behind. He knew they would be well cared for and protected by Orion, but he would miss them sorely.

         His owl hooted as she rattled the locked cage door. Realizing that she would like to go for a flight instead of being stuck on the train for many hours. He decided to release her after telling her to find him at Hogwarts when she was finished her hunt.

         After a flurry of activities, he suddenly found himself on a busy train platform staring at a scarlet steam train. A sign above it said Hogwarts Express. Blinking at the sign, he felt the realization settling into his mind.

         ‘I am really heading back to Hogwarts!’

         In the distance, he saw Pollux and Irma Black accompanying Cygnus Black and his three daughters. Pollux met his gaze and he turned away, ignoring his presence.

         Shrugging it off, he turned back to his own immediate family. Turais received a firm handshake from Arcturus. 

         “Turais, remember to stay safe,” Arcturus said sternly. “And make your family proud.”

         Turais nodded as he turned to receive a quick hug from Melania. Orion crouched down and gave him a long, tight squeeze with a quick peck on his cheek. He then turned to his brothers, who were both looking at their toes and unusually quiet. He knelt down to try and catch their wandering gaze.

         “Hey, hey, Siri and Reggie. Promise to write me everyday. I have asked father and he has given permission for you to use our family owls, so I better receive something, anything, every day when the owl post arrives. Or else I will be very crossed,” Turais said.

         “M’kay. You need to write to us too. About everything,” Sirius finally looked at him. “Love you.”

         “Love you too, Turais,” Regulus said.

         The three brothers shared a long hug. They stayed there until the train whistled, announcing the imminent departure of the train.

         “Okay, you better get going, Turais, or else you will not be able to find a compartment,” Orion warned as he lifted his school trunk onto the train for him. But Orion was as reluctant as his younger sons, if not more, at the thought of letting his eldest son go to Hogwarts. Turais gave Orion a quick smile.

         “I’ll write to you often, father,” Turais said softly. Orion nodded and flashed him a grin.

         After a wave at his family, he stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. And unlike last time, he knew where this train led to.

Chapter 9: Hogwarts Bound (revised)

Notes:

Rewritten.

- ravenclawblues 2022-01-10

Chapter Text


CHAPTER NINE

HOGWARTS BOUND


 

June 30, 1968 (Sunday)

 

WARBECK FEVER INCENDIOS CHART

by Sclandora Gosp

Her Cauldron is Full of More Than just Hot, Strong Love

 

Celestina Warbeck's lead single, "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love", from her mega-hit album "Wands n' Cauldrons" stays atop the WWN Top 10 Enchanting Songs chart for the 77th straight week, casting Bombardos on all previous records since its inception. Yesterday, the superstar songstress announced her bewitching world-tour "STIR MY CAULDRON HARD" with performances on all six continents and the tickets were all sold-out within 24 hours. One must wonder if the tour name had any relation with the recent scandal where she was caught exiting a dodgy establishment near the famed red-light district of Amsterdam...

 

***

 

         The train gave a protracted, noisy lurch as Turais settled in his compartment that faced the crowded platform. Outside, the conductor’s voice called for the doors to be shut. Suddenly overwhelmed by a deep stab of homesickness, Turais looked out of the window and searched through the crowd hoping to catch a last glimpse of his family before his return during the Christmas holidays. A sense of desperation was settling in rapidly just as he found them in the throng.

         Turais frantically knocked on the glass as Sirius turned in his direction. Sirius’s eyes widened as he tugged Regulus’ robe and said something. He turned, looked, and found Turais. Sirius waved excitedly with both hands and jumped up and down. Regulus clung onto Orion’s arm with his face half-buried in the sleeves as he gave a shy wave after rubbing his eyes. Turais beamed at his brothers as the train slowly pulled out of the station. Sirius decided to give chase as he slipped from Orion’s outstretched grip and ran down the length of the crimson locomotive in front of the waving parents. He reached Turais’s window and jogged alongside as he mouthed his goodbyes. 

         “Stay out of trouble!” Turais shouted.

         Clearly, Sirius understood the meaning as he gave an eye roll and stuck out his tongue. But he mouthed back as he started to run, “Fine, but you avoid trouble too!”

         “Take care of Reggie and father for me!”

         Turais didn’t see what Sirius said as his brother lagged behind and disappeared from view. However, Turais felt at ease knowing that they were in safe hands.

         Turais continued to stare out the window as the milling bodies vanished behind a wall at the end of the station and was replaced by the scrolling view of the bustling, industrial heart of London.

         A gentle knock sounded on the glass of the compartment door brought Turais’s attention away from the view. The door slid open as Gerald Macmillan strolled in.

         “Hey, Turais,” Gerald grinned as he gave Turais a quick hug. “Nice to finally see you on the Hogwarts Express!”

         “Same goes to you, Gerald!” Turais greeted his second cousin warmly. He had met Gerald Macmillan and his older brother, Geoffrey, occasionally when Turais’s grandmother, Melania Macmillan, invited them over to play. “Aren’t you sitting with Geoffrey?”

         “Nah,” Gerald dismissed the idea. “He told me I should take the opportunity to make some new friends. Well, I reckon he just doesn’t want me around him while he is with his friends.”

         Turais nodded at the response as he pulled out his Elder wand and levitated the trunk upwards and into the overhead compartment.

         Gerald looked at Turais in awe. “Turais! You can perform magic already? Awesome! But wait - does that mean that whatever they said at the Malfoy Ball was real -”

         Before Turais could answer, the door slid open once more as two other boys: Jonathan Steward and Albert Lowe, entered.  

         “So, I am supposed to sit with you on the train,” Lowe grunted as he dropped his luggage onto the floor. The newcomers settled on the far corners of the compartment, then an awkward silence ensued.

          Not even a minute later, Steward waved at Turais to catch his attention. With an easy smile, he said, “Would you mind if I leave for a bit? I’ve enjoyed the wonderful conversation here, but I do have some friends that I would like to touch base with, if possible.”

          “Sure,” Turais said.

          “Splendid,” Steward flashed another smile before he slipped out of the compartment.

          Eyeing Lowe, Turais said, “You don’t need to stay if you don’t want to. I’m not about to tell on you to your parents.”

          “Are you sure?” Lowe asked, sounding hopeful.

          “Yes, I am sure.”

          Lowe considered the proposition for a moment before he took his luggage and fled the compartment.

          “What an odd bunch they are,” Gerald said, wrinkling his nose. “Your grandfather arranged this, didn’t he?”

          “Yeah,” Turais replied as Gerald made a sympathetic sound.

          “You Slytherin families have strange practices. It’s rare times like these that I’m thankful for being in a Hufflepuff family.”

          “Thank you for making me feel much better about my own situation,” Turais said sarcastically.

          Gerald flushed in embarrassment and dipped his head. Then, there was another knock on the compartment door as it slid open by a fraction. The head of a round-faced girl with brown hair appeared through the opening.

          “Excuse me, there are two of us and do you mind if we join you? All the other compartments are full,” she asked shyly.

          “Of course not. Please come in,” Turais said. Smiling gratefully, she slid open the door entirely and entered with her luggage as her companion followed. The second girl with black hair bunched up in a ponytail struggled to lift her trunk onto the overhead compartment before Turais stepped in to help.

          “I’m Alice,” the brown-haired girl introduced as her eyes widened at Turais’s usage of the Levitation Charm.

          “And I’m Jane. Thank you for helping me with the luggage.”

          “No worries, Jane. I’m Turais, and this is Gerald. It is a pleasure to meet both of you,” Turais said as he looked at their pure black robes and ties. They were evidently first-years because once students were sorted, their school ties and robes would automatically incorporate their house colours.

          “Are you both first-years?” Jane asked.

          “Yes. Which house do you hope to be sorted into?” Turais asked casually.

          “I don’t know. Alice was just telling me about the different houses. My parents are Muggles, so I don’t know anything about the Wizarding world. I’m afraid that I won’t be sorted into any house,” Jane said nervously.

          “Don’t worry. Everyone will be sorted. I’m sure you will feel at home wherever you go,” Turais gave her a comforting smile, and she smiled back shyly. “This is why we go to Hogwarts, right? To learn magic.”

          “That’s right, Jane. Don’t worry! I’m from a pureblood family, and I don’t even know how to cast spells yet. Turais here is an exception,” Alice said encouragingly.

          “Well, my entire family has been in Hufflepuff for generations, so I know where I’ll end up,” Gerald said dully. “It’s such a boring house - loyal, honest, and hard-working - that’s basically anyone.”

          “I think Hufflepuff is pretty amazing. I want friends who are steadfast and loyal to me so they can be honest with me, and I will trust them to keep my secrets,” Turais said. “And definitely not everyone is loyal or honest.”

          “You really think so?” Gerald asked, perking up at Turais’s affirmative nod. Gerald beamed.

          “How about you, Alice?” asked Turais.

          “Well, my mother was a Hufflepuff while my father was a Gryffindor, but my brother was in Ravenclaw. So I can’t tell from my family history. But as long as I’m not in Slytherin, I think I’m good with anything,” Alice concluded.

          “Why not Slytherin?” Jane asked. “That’s the one with the snakes, right?”

          “Did you not listen, Jane? Because they are evil and they hate people that are like you… people whose parents are Muggles,” Alice said darkly. “Don’t go near them. They will hurt you.”

          Jane gulped and nodded. “How about you, Turais? Where do you think you’ll be sorted into?”

          Turais swallowed while Gerald shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Glancing at Alice, he braced himself from her reaction to his response. “Well… I mean, like Gerald, my entire family has been in… well, Slytherin.”

          An uncomfortable silence settled in the compartment as Alice stared at him with suspicion and disgust.

          “Um.. you let us come into your compartment and helped me with my luggage, so you seem nice. Right, Alice?” Jane broke the silence as Turais looked up at Alice. Alice stared at Jane incredulously. “Alice, snap out of it! He’s not evil! You are being very rude to Turais when he has been nothing but nice to us.”

          “Well, Alice. I’ve known Turais for a long time, and I don’t think he’s evil either,” Gerald spoke quietly into his robes.

          Alice met his gaze. After a few moments, she said hesitantly, “Um. I’m sorry, Turais, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

          “It’s okay. But just so you know, I don’t hate you because you have muggle parents, Jane. Your family background does not matter to me. You seem nice too,” Turais said weakly.

          “Okay, then, let’s be friends,” Jane smiled brilliantly, ignoring Alice’s nudge.

          The snack trolley came along a few minutes later, and they each purchased a handful of sweets and shared with one other. As they were sampling at the box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, the compartment door slammed open sideways.

          Turais turned to find three Slytherins standing imposingly at the doorway. The boy in front was snarling at him viciously.

          “I heard that a Turais Black was here on this very train, and I had to see for myself,” Brutus Nott, a sixth-year, hissed. “I hope you did not forget what you’ve done to me because I will be reminding you a lot this year.”

          “Who are you? Why are you threatening him?” Jane asked sharply.

          “Who are you? Are you one of those filthy mud -“ 

          Turais stood up and held the wand in his hand.

          “Do not use that word, you red-head brute. Wiggle back to your wormhole. You are not welcomed here,” Turais spoke in a deadly voice.

          Nott flinched but remained in place.

          “I’ll watch my back if I were you, Black. You have no idea what I can do to you at Hogwarts.”

          “And I would not speak such fighting words if I were you, Nott,” Turais replied coldly. “You know exactly what I can do with a wand, and I will not hesitate to use it if you cause me or my friends any trouble.”

          Nott’s Adam’s apple bobbled at Turais’s menacing tone. He managed to warp his face into a final sneer before he retreated with his shadows.

          Turais shut the compartment door with a sigh.

          “So, you’re a Black?” Alice asked, wide-eyed. “And you defended a muggleborn?”

          “Well, Nott is a big bully, and I disagree with using that abhorrent word. I also don’t care about blood purity,” said Turais, shrugging, while putting his wand away.

          “My brother said he’s one of the biggest bullies at school! Woah, Turais!” Gerald exclaimed excitedly.

          “I thought you were lying when you said you didn’t care about Jane’s parents being muggles. I was wrong. I’m sorry, Turais, and I mean it this time,” Alice said apologetically, but this time, he could sense the sincerity in her words.

          “It’s alright, Alice. I forgive you. I don’t believe purebloods are superior to Muggleborns, and please trust me when I say that.”

          “I believe you,” Alice said firmly, flashing him a smile.

          “Thanks for standing up for Jane, Turais,” Gerald said. “And you called him a red-head brute, ha! That was brilliant. I have to write to my ma about this!”

          They settled into a comfortable conversation when Alice posed a question hesitantly, “I overheard some of the older students saying that you are a Parselmouth, is that true?”

          “Yes, I can speak to snakes,” Turais said, and Alice gasped.

          “You can speak to snakes? It is a rare gift, and only Dark wizards are supposed to be able to do that!” Alice frowned once more.

          “No, Alice. Being a Parselmouth just means I might be related to Salazar Slytherin, who was a famed Parselmouth, in some way. The ability doesn’t make anyone ‘dark,’” Turais explained.

          “I’m sorry, I’ve just been told that by my parents,” Alice looked sheepish. “But isn’t Salazar Slytherin supposed to be a Dark wizard?” 

          “I don’t know, Alice. Maybe he was, but he was also one of the greatest wizards of all time. Just because I speak a different language doesn’t mean I’m evil. That’s analogous to saying that speaking French means I’m evil,” Turais reasoned. “Does it make sense?”

          “I suppose so…” Alice said, frowning. But then her face relaxed into a small smile. “But anyone who stands up against bullies is good in my books.”

          “Sorry, I’m not following. What did Nott do to me? What is a Parselmouth?” Jane asked, confused with the entire conversation. Alice, Gerald, and Turais shared an amused look.

          Before anyone could speak again, the compartment door slid open again, and a breathless Slytherin prefect stepped inside. Turais felt a sense of déjà vu as he eyed the scroll of parchment in his hand as the boy confirmed his suspicion, “I’m supposed to deliver this to you, Black.”

          Turais unrolled the scroll and scanned the content as the boy exited the compartment. Although Turais really couldn’t care less for the writer’s attention, he was undoubtedly an extremely useful contact to have on one’s side, and Turais wouldn’t dare to disobey a direct invitation. Sighing, he stood up and announced to his new friends, “Please excuse me, but it seems that I have an invitation to attend lunch with Professor Slughorn.” 

 

***

 

          “Nice to make your acquaintance, Professor Slughorn,” Turais said cordially as he greeted the large-bellied man who stood up at the sight of him. He saw a boy seated around the table of four with a table at the corner of the compartment that held several cloche plates with domed metal covers.

          “Good to see you, Master Turais Black,” Professor Slughorn said cheerily as he guided him to the remaining seat to his right.

          “Please do call me Turais, Professor,” Turais said politely. 

          The only way to suffer least with the Professor was to not resist, cozy up, and pretend to be innocent and pliable to his every whim.

          Professor Slughorn’s smile grew impossibly wider.

          “Of course, Turais, m’boy! Now, this little lunch is just for the first-years as I do not wish to overwhelm any of you while still allowing the cream of the crop to know each other before being separated into different houses. Speaking of which, let me introduce you to one of your future classmates.”

          Professor Slughorn pointed to the brown-haired boy with slitted, obsidian eyes who sat across from Turais. His brows were furrowed tightly as his eyes glared at him unwelcomingly.

          Turais’s eyes flashed with recognition. It was the boy he met at Twilfitt and Tattings.

          As though unaware of the rising tension, the Professor continued merrily, “This is Leon Pierricoeur, the eldest son of Emmanuel Pierricoeur, a famous Arithmancer and the first non-pureblood and Muggleborn to be inducted into the Société Arithmancie de l’Europe. But don’t be fooled by the last name as his father was born in Britain and attended Hogwarts as well.”

          “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Pierricoeur,” Turais nodded as the boy maintained the unfriendly glare.

          There was a quick knock on the door as Professor Slughorn clasped his hands together.

          “Ah, perfect timing.” 

          Professor Slughorn opened the door to submit the latest addition to this private lunch. “Welcome, Mr Fawley. Please enter. And gentlemen, this is Alexander Fawley -”

          Turais turned to look at the thin, shy, grey-haired boy who was staring back at him, eyes wide in recognition. Turais gasped loudly as well, but for an entirely different reason.

          Alexander Fawley - the Alex who he rescued at the Malfoy Ball - was the very same person as the Fawley whom Turais met as Harry Potter and also the one who died in his arms at Hogsmeade before he returned to the past.

          “Turais,” Alex gasped in surprise.

          “Alex,” Turais responded tightly with a terse nod.

          “I see that you two know each other already,” Professor Slughorn chuckled. “How splendid!”

          Alex sat down beside him, and Turais whispered, “So, you managed to return home safely?”

          “Yeah,” Alex nodded shyly. “Thanks.”

          It was then that another thought occurred to Turais. He had learnt all about the intricate relations between pureblood families, especially for the Sacred Twenty-Eight, which the Fawley family was part of. But the main scion of the Fawleys currently consisted of only two men. The first one was former Minister for Magic and current Chief Warlock Lord Hector Fawley, while the second was the famed social recluse, Howard Fawley. Neither men married nor sired a child, at least until now.

          Alex was most likely the son of Howard Fawley since Lord Fawley was a high-profile individual and highly active in the Wizengamot. If he had an heir, someone would have known by now.

          So this same question would probably be on every pureblood’s mind during the Sorting: “When did Howard Fawley have a son, and where did he come from?”

          But to be honest, Turais didn’t care. His personal experience of being gawked at as Harry Potter meant that he understood how someone’s familial matter was no one else’s business unless they voluntarily provided the information. All families had their issues, and this statement was particularly true for pureblood families. 

          While Turais was temporarily lost in his thoughts, Professor Slughorn charmed one of the dishes over to the center of the table. He opened the lid, and it was pheasant.

          Some things never change, Turais thought to himself.

          “Now, Alexander. Did you know that I went to Hogwarts with your uncle, Hector Fawley? He was the most energetic and flamboyant fellow you could ever meet. He could never sit still and drove all of us half-mad. You can guess how much a surprise it was when he was made Minister for Magic... and to be re-elected! And then to quit and become Chief Warlock! Oh!” Professor Slughorn’s eyes glazed over for a moment while he reminisced about his schoolyard days. Then, he remembered himself and gestured Pierricoeur to take a serving. “How is he faring these days, Alex?”

          “I’m not too sure,” Alex said uncomfortably.

          “Well, I daresay he is a busy man, especially with all the happenings in the Wizengamot. Too busy to even get married!” Professor Slughorn pressed on questioningly, “You are his nephew… is it, nephew?”

          “Cousins… he’s my grandfather’s older brother, so... my father is his nephew… but I don’t see much of him,” he said hesitantly.

          “Is that so? How unfortunate,” Professor Slughorn smiled coldly as he gestured Turais to help himself with the pheasant as well, blatantly skipping over Alex. “So how about you, Turais? I’ll admit I’ve fallen prey to the many rumours surrounding you.”

          “Of course, Professor,” Turais said amiably. “My father over-indulges my wish to maintain a low profile. It has frustrated my grandfather to no end.”

          Professor Slughorn chuckled jovially as he hugged his bulging belly.

          “I can’t imagine one can ever over-indulge a delightful young gentleman such as yourself.”

          Pierricoeur scoffed at the statement, but Slughorn did not seem to take notice. “Did you know I’ve had the pleasure to meet your grandfather in school and to teach your father? I have a lot of great stories to tell you if you’d like to visit my office someday.”

          “I’d love to hear them, Professor,” Turais said politely.

          The Professor then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. It was for show as his words rang clearly around the compartment. “Turais, I’m most interested in a particular incident. Is it true that you’re a Parselmouth?”

          Turais quirked his eyebrow and opened his mouth... only to eat a bite of pheasant, much to the Professor’s amusement and mild frustration.

          “Fine, fine. Turais, you may keep your secrets. For now,” the Professor scolded playfully, “Although I’ll find out soon enough.”

          “Of course, Professor. You’ll be the first to know.”

          “Oh, you can’t tease an old man like that, m’boy,” the man scolded mildly with a knowing glance, but he looked humoured all the same.

          The rest of lunch droned on as Professor Slughorn continued to exchange pleasantries with Turais and Pierricoeur while ignoring Alex completely. As the sky was transformed into a rosy hue, the man finally released the three boys.

          “Oh dear, we must be near Hogwarts. I wouldn’t dare to keep you any longer. Turais, Leon, please make sure to drop by my office at some point,” he said as he held the door open for them.

          “Goodbye, Professor,” Turais said as he filed out of the compartment.

          Once the compartment door slid shut again, Pierricoeur turned to him and hissed, “Well, I hope I don’t see you around, Black.”

          With that, he rammed his shoulder into Turais as he passed by and stomped away. Turais turned to face Alex, who looked like he was about to fall ill.

          “Professor Slughorn is a bit... overwhelming on a first meeting,” Turais comforted.

          “I don’t think he liked me that much,” Alex whispered. “Unlike you.”

          Turais hesitated as he could not find a good response to that comment.

          “You’re a very important person, aren’t you?” Alex mumbled as he stared down at his feet, determined to look anywhere but at Turais. “Everyone on this train is talking about you.”

          “Are they now?”

          “I hear them whispering about the Black heir defeating three sixth-years without a wand at the Malfoy Ball. That person could only be you.”

          “Well, I suppose it would be nice for others to know that I can defend myself,” Turais smiled as he placed a comforting hand on Alex’s shoulder. “It would make them think twice before crossing one of us, don’t you think?”

          Alex looked up as he asked, “Us?”

          “Well, you are my friend, aren’t you?” Turais quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

          “I... I guess,” Alex’s eyes darted around frantically as he gasped in a small voice, “If you want to be friends with someone like me.”

          “Well, I suppose this is settled then,” Turais said as he held out his hand. With a tentative smile, Alex shook it. “I will see you at Hogwarts, then.”

          “See you at Hogwarts.”

 

***

 

          When the train crawled to a stop at Hogsmeade Station, Alice and Jane had completely warmed up to him, and they had already made plans to meet up later in the week. They also gave Jane a crash course on the prejudice against Muggleborns, such as her, and the bullying she might receive for it. But they assured her that only a few people thought that and most of the students would not have an issue with her parentage.

          “Welcome back,” Turais said as he saw Steward run into the compartment hastily to change into his school robes. Steward paused from throwing his school robe over his head and flashed Turais a brilliant smile.

          “And I thank you for the kind hospitality you’ve shown me thus far.”

          “I must’ve failed my duties as a host,” Turais bantered amusedly. “Seeing that I’ve kept you away for so long.”

          “Hardly,” Steward said distractedly. “Don’t they always say that the best hosts are those who manage to usher their guests out the door subtly whenever they desired?”

          Turais smiled. Steward’s dry humour and wit were something that Turais enjoyed immensely. However, it seemed as though someone did not agree on that point.

          “Oh, aren’t you the annoying kind,” Jane huffed just as Steward emerged from beneath the fabric.

          Steward froze before giving her a charming smile as well. “I don’t understand your question, Miss...”

          “Miss Stahl is fine,” Jane said curtly.

          “Miss Stahl, it is a great honour to meet you,” Steward said as he made a knot for his necktie. “And I do aim to please, not to annoy.”

          “Oh, you are really annoying,” Jane muttered as she shuffled past the confused boy with Alice in suit.

          Scrunching his face in confusion, he looked at Turais and asked, “Did I... say something?”

          “I don’t think she was particularly taken by your brand of humour. I’ll see you up at the castle, then,” Turais shrugged as he motioned at Gerald to alight the train, leaving Steward alone in utter confusion.

          “Cousin Turais!” Turais heard his name shouted as he was walking down the stairs. Turning around, he saw Bellatrix shoving students out of her path as she headed down the corridor towards him.

          “It’s my cousin,” Turais whispered to a concerned Gerald. “Go ahead first. I’ll join you in a moment.”

          Gerald eyed him worriedly but walked away at his stern gaze. Walking back inside the train, Turais narrowed his eyes at his cousin and shouted, “What do you want, cousin Bellatrix?”

          “I heard from Nott that you spent your entire train ride with a filthy mudblood. You’re the Black heir! How dare you associate with that rubbish?!”

          “Who I associate with is none of your concern, cousin. Mind your own business,” Turais retorted and walked away.

          “Don’t you dare ignore me, Turais,” Bellatrix shouted as she stormed thunderously after him. “Your father has been too lax with his teachings.”

          “Do not speak of my father, Bellatrix, and I will do as I please,” Turais said, not turning around to face her. “Save your breath.”

          “You will have a word with me, Turais. Stay!”

          Turais refused to acknowledge her words. A second later, he heard Bellatrix whip out her wand.

          “Incarcerous!”  Bellatrix shrieked as Turais turned around to cast a quick Shield charm. The spell deflected back at Bellatrix, and she was instantly tied up in ropes, seething on the corridor floor. At the same time, Narcissa, Lucius Malfoy, and Andromeda came upon them. They looked down at the bound Bellatrix in shock before looking up to consider the first-year.

         “Maybe pick on someone your size for a change. A first-year beating a seventh-year does not make good rhetoric for your cultivated image,” Turais hissed.

         After throwing her a final warning glare, Turais turned to leave the train again.

         He descended onto a nearly-empty platform and quickly placed his luggage and owl cage onto the luggage carriage before heading towards the docks to rejoin the first-years.

         “There yeh are, Mr Black!” A large, towering figure bellowed at him as he came into view of the Black Lake. Hagrid, Turais recognized, walked towards him with an ugly, pink umbrella in his hand and grabbed his shoulders as he was forcefully walked towards the two dozen little boats floating gently over the inky waters. Once he was on the wooden dock, he saw his friends waving at him and pointing at an empty space in their boat. He walked over and climbed onto the boat, giving them a grateful smile.

         “Everyone hol’ on tight, we don’ wan’a be late fer the Sortin’!” He heard Hagrid yell as he tapped his umbrella against his boat. Suddenly, the boats lurched forward as they slowly sailed across the dark surface with only the tiny lamps to light up their surroundings. 

         As they sailed out of the cove that harboured the Hogwarts docks and into the centre of the Black Lake, the illuminated Hogwarts castle loomed in the distance in its full glory and without the crumbling towers and walls that marred the historic site after the Battle of Hogwarts.

         At the sight, Turais’s distasteful encounter on the train was momentarily forgotten. All the students, including Turais, gasped in awe. Despite having spent six years in Hogwarts in his past life, Turais still felt the similar rush of love and awe as when he laid eyes on this castle for the very first time.

         “I still can’t believe this is real,” Jane whispered softly. “Please tell me this is not a dream.”

         Turais chuckled, agreeing with the sentiment completely. “I feel the same. This is magic.”

 

***

 

          Professor McGonagall stood waiting atop the staircase as the students climbed up. Once the last of them stopped and stood still, she announced. “Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. I hope you will be a credit to whichever house you join.

          “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few moments when I return to retrieve you, but before then, I will suggest you to smarten up yourselves.”

          She departed as the students started to mutter amongst themselves, wondering how the Sorting would occur.

          “I think we will need to fight against a magical creature to show our worth!” one of the boys spoke excitedly in front of Turais and his friends. He felt Jane stricken at the sentence.

          “Don’t worry. You don’t need to fight off a creature. They won’t do that to a first-year who can’t do any proper magic,” Turais told Jane to calm her down.

          “So you know how we are sorted, Black?” Pierricoeur’s voice sounded from somewhere ahead as he came into view.

          “As a matter of fact, I do -”

          “Hiss something, Black,” he interrupted rudely. 

          Turais ignored the interruption. “To your question about how we are sorted, we will just have a hat placed on our heads and it will decide which house we belong to.”

          “So, can you actually speak to snakes or not?” Pierricoeur narrowed his eyes at how Turais was selectively answering his question. Those who were pureblood and half-blood gasped at the mentioning of this information.

          “Yes, I can, Pierricoeur. Do you have a problem with that?” Turais said. Another round of gasps sounded.

          “I don’t believe you. You’re just another lying pureblood hatchling,” Pierricoeur returned with unmasked hostility.

          “How dare you, you sodding mudbl -” a large boy further down the stairs shouted just as Gerald stepped in to defend Turais.

          “Cheer up, mate,” Gerald responded loudly.

          “No one was asking for your girly swot opinions,” Pierricoeur said. Gerald fumed as Turais placed a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

          “Now you’re plain rude, Pierricoeur. I -” Turais said.

          “Prove it, Black. Say something. I bet you can’t because you’re a liar and -” 

          Before Pierricoeur could finish his sentence, someone cleared their throat behind him. Pierricoeur turned around to see Professor McGonagall peering down at him through her glasses sternly.

          “Thank you. There will be plenty of opportunities to chat after the Sorting,” she then addressed all the first-years. “Follow me to the Great Hall, please.”

          Turais had an intuitive feeling that he would not get along with the boy. Fortunately, the chances were that Pierricoeur would not be sorted into Slytherin, given his hatred for the house.

          “He’s gone mad, that wanker,” one of the other first-years whispered to him as they walked towards the Great Hall. The other first-years around him nodded in agreement.

          Professor McGonagall led them through the large oak doors and down the middle of the Great Hall, filled with students sitting at their benches with their respective Houses. As he walked, he noticed the stares he received from the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, likely due to the rumours of his Parselmouth abilities.

          They stopped at the bottom of the steps that led to the staff table ahead. Atop the stairs stood a stool with the Sorting Hat perched on it. After it finished waxing poetry about house unity, Professor McGonagall climbed halfway up the stairs and unscrolled her parchment.

          “Black, Turais.”

Chapter 10: A Different Hogwarts (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TEN

A DIFFERENT HOGWARTS


 

June 30, 1969 (Monday)

 

PUREBLOODS VS. SQUIBS

by Andy Smudgley

Squib Sit-in Interrupted by Pureblood Parade Turned Chaotic

 

The Squib Rights march, which was held in the only all-wizarding British village of Hogsmeade, was interrupted by a counter-protest by a group of purebloods. What initially started as a peaceful sit-in quickly spiraled out of control as the opposite camps clashed violently. The Ministry Hit Wizards arrived on site and was quickly able to separate and subdue both sides. However, the leaders of both movements were arrested on charges of instigating public unrest...

 

***

 

          “Black, Turais.”

          Murmurs filled the Great Hall as students strained to catch a glimpse of the future Lord Black. Turais drew himself to his full height of an eleven-year-old boy. He walked confidently up the stairs and sat on the stool.

          The battered, old hat was placed over on top of his head and fell over his eyes. 

          ‘Hmmm. Mr Black. I can sense the mind of an adult and that you have been Sorted once before. Yet I have no recollection of meeting you prior to today. How is this possible?”

          ‘Will this conversation remain private between the two of us?’

          ‘Yes, Mr Black. I am bound by the magic of the Founders to secrecy.’

          ‘Very well. I travelled back in time from a future where the Sorting Hat there Sorted me into Gryffindor.’

          ‘Hmmm... I do see plenty of courage. Not a bad mind. Brilliant, in fact. And also loyalty, yes - unwavering loyal to your family, your brothers. And a great ambition - yet curiously not a strong thirst to prove yourself. Very difficult to place indeed. I can see your potential as a Gryffindor, but that pales in comparison with your potential as a Slytherin. One's personality does not change that drastically so I do wonder why my future self went with Gryffindor when Slytherin is clearly the superior choice.’

          ‘It did, but I refused to be placed in Slytherin and requested Gryffindor instead.’

          ‘Interesting… but I sense that you do not wish to fight my decision this time.’

          ‘No, indeed. I have great plans in store where being a Slytherin will be the superior choice. And this time around, I am prepared to face the challenges of this house.’

          ‘In that case, then - ’

          “SLYTHERIN!” The Sorting Hat shouted into the Great Hall. Amidst the polite applause of his fellow housemates, Turais jumped off the stool and headed towards the Slytherin table as his robes incorporated the Slytherin crest, greens, and silvers into his clothes. He saw his friends gave him an encouraging smile.

          “What took you so long, Black?” Nott yelled over the fading applause. “Did you want to go to Hufflepuff?” 

          Turais ignored the taunt and sat down when he heard Bellatrix pipe up, “He’s a Parselmouth, Nott, did your rotting brain fall out on the ride here?”

          Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and the Great Hall fell silently once more before she continued the Sorting ceremony. 

          Turais scanned the staff table and saw some familiar faces, albeit, much younger. Besides Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall, there was Horace Slughorn who was waving at him, Albus Dumbledore, Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout, who looked like she was barely thirty. When his eyes made contact with Dumbledore’s eyes, instead of the grandfatherly warmth he was accustomed to, Turais noticed the sharpened, dangerous gaze through his spectacles.

          Dumbledore’s parting warning from the original timeline echoed loudly in Turais’s mind as he tried to figure out what was different. Distracted, Turais barely detected the tendrils of Legilimency gently brush against his mind. However, the minimal Occlumency Turais had achieved instinctively defended him. Turais immediately tore his gaze away from the piercing blue eyes and the surprise Legilimency attack dissipated, leaving Turais with the hollow reverberation of his pounding heart.

          This Dumbledore had just performed Legilimency on a first-year without warning or care for their well-being. Turais knew that the attack was likely a cursory glance at Turais's intentions rather than a full-frontal attack, but this act all but confirmed that this Dumbledore was not his ally and someone Turais had to actively defend himself against.

          However, upon a second thought, it should not have been a surprise that Dumbledore did not trust him. In the original timeline, Dumbledore did not trust Sirius despite him being a Gryffindor and his decade-long friendship with James Potter. His suspicion of Sirius as a Death Eater was largely in part due to his inherent prejudice against the Dark families. If Sirius was not from a Dark family, Turais was sure that Dumbledore would have fought harder for a fair trial instead of falling back to pre-existing bigotry. His prejudice and subsequent inaction were two of the main reasons why Sirius spent thirteen years in Azkaban for a crime he never committed. Purely from this fact alone, Turais knew that Dumbledore would never fully trust him regardless of what he did and how much he proved himself.

          Dumbledore would only be suspicious of him or wield him like a weapon against Voldemort. In Dumbledore’s eyes, he would forever be the first to be questioned when any unfavourable situation arose and the last person to be saved if his allies were endangered. They would never truly be allies, not with him as the Black heir. This time around, Turais would have to achieve his goals without Dumbledore’s help.

          The thought shook Turais to his core as he realized that this was just the beginning of a seven-years-long tenuous relationship with Dumbledore.

          “Fawley, Alexander,” the shout of his friend's name drew Turais back to focusing on the ceremony as a moderate amount of murmur bubbled around the room.

          “SLYTHERIN!”

          Despite knowing where the boy would end up, Turais still breathed a sigh of relief when he saw history repeat itself. Turais clapped enthusiastically amidst the lukewarm reception as the boy tumbled into the seat behind him.

          “Welcome. I guess we will be sharing the same dormitories from now on.”

          “I see...” Alex panted out distractedly while looking at the next person on the stool. “I was so nervous up there with all eyes focused on me.”

          “Well, it is over now, and you are officially a Slytherin.”

          The boy gasped as the realization dawned upon him. Whipping around, he stared at Turais and said, “Wait, so we are going to share all our classes together?”

          “I suppose so,” Turais smiled. “Will that be a problem?”

          “No, of course not,” Alex said immediately. “That was not what I mean at all.”

          “Relax, Alex. I was teasing you.”

          Alex flushed in embarrassment before they continued to watch the Sorting. Soon, it was Gerald’s turn.

          “Macmillan, Gerald.”

          “HUFFLEPUFF!”

          Turais saw the grey-haired boy look in his direction and Turais gave him an encouraging smile.

          “Pierricoeur, Leon.”

          “RAVENCLAW!”

          The boy strolled towards the Ravenclaw table beside his and shot him a dangerous glare. Turais shrugged it off and ignored him. If he was not in his House, his time spent with the new Ravenclaw would be minimal.

          “Smith, Alice,” Professor McGonagall called out after a few more students were Sorted.

          “GRYFFINDOR!”

          “Stahl, Jane.”

          “GRYFFINDOR!”

          Jane gave Turais a quick smile and wave before running towards the Gryffindor table.

          “Steward, Jonathan.”

          “SLYTHERIN!”

          The Hat barely touched Steward’s head when he was already on his way to Turais’s table, wearing a confident smile.

          As the Sorting wound down, Turais started to feel the weight of accomplishing what he set out to do. 

         ‘So there is nothing I could do to stop the war from happening in the first place?’  Turais remembered asking Death one day.

         ‘One can never be absolutely certain, not even Death, young Master. But indeed, there is almost no chance for any alternate outcomes.’

         With an inevitable war against Voldemort, Turais knew that a real, long-lasting change in the future would involve improving inter-house relations before it reached an irreversible state when the war in Britain began. If not, people like Alex would suffer the price of his fellow militaristic Slytherin alumni that would lead to more division and distrust.

         Turais knew what he had to do, and he knew that he must succeed.

 

***

 

          As the Slytherins filed out of the Great Hall and headed down the staircases, Turais was slowly separated from Alex in the chaotic crowd. Then, he spotted Alex struggling as he fought his way towards the Slytherin group before he crashed into two older Gryffindors. 

          “Excuse me,” Alex mumbled as he tried to move past them between the two towering figures. But one of them pulled on the back of his robe collar and held him in place.

          “Trying to slither to your snake pit? You pathetic slimeball,” the Gryffindor hissed tauntingly. Alex tugged on his robe but he couldn’t get away. People around laughed openly at the struggling boy as there was no staff in sight.

          “Hey, pick on someone your own size, you git!” Turais shouted at them as he strolled up to Alex, abandoning the rest of the Slytherin group which continued to disappear through the doorway to the Slytherin common room..

          “Another little hissing hatchling. I see you’re the newest Black, the worst of all snakes -”

          “Watch your mouth, you poor excuse of a furry cat, and don’t speak ill of my family. Let go of him!” Turais said. Seeing that the Gryffindor had no intention of releasing the Slytherin. He whipped out his wand and said, “ Relashio! ” 

          As though Alex had stung him, the Gryffindor hissed and released the smaller boy as he massaged his hand with a dark scowl.

          “Let’s go,” Turais grabbed Alex's hand and dragged him away from the dwindling crowd. He shot a final glance at the offending students. “Do not cross us again.”

          “Ooo, this snake bites back, how cute…” he heard someone crow as they turned into a hallway in the dungeons.

          Turais led them down a dimly lit corridor lined with fire torches and turned right at the intersection. Then, they made a left and down a flight of stairs, after that, another right. Here.

          They stood in the middle of an empty hallway and faced a blank stretch of the wall. However, neither of them knew the password. They were stuck. 

          Suddenly, an idea came to Turais's mind and he hissed in Parseltongue, “Open the door.”

          Turais felt a vibration in the air as a single archway appeared followed by a door. Once fully formed, it swung backwards to reveal a narrow passage.

          “Did you just hiss at the wall?” Alex asked in fascination.

          “Yes, I said ‘Open the door.’ I didn’t even know it would work,” Turais breathed out before he opened the door and started down the hallway. After a short walk through a narrow corridor, he spotted the first-years at the end of the tunnel and they quietly joined the back of the group.

          “Welcome to the Slytherin House,” Lucius Malfoy said as he looked at the two dozen newly-minted first-years in the underwater Slytherin common room. “I am your fifth-year Prefect, Lucius Malfoy. Professor Slughorn, the Potions Professor, is our Head of House. If you have any concerns, you may speak to him. The password for the common room this week is ‘Serpentine’ and will be changed every fortnight. The password will be posted on the wall and you will not share it with anyone outside of our House. First-year dormitories are located on the ground floor, two for boys and two for girls. Each room houses six students. Once you have chosen your bed, your belongings will appear. Choose wisely.

          “As Slytherins, we pride ourselves with our ambition, cunningness, resourcefulness, and shrewdness. These values are not shared by the other three Houses, who will view you as the deceitful enemy. Therefore, Slytherins always protect their own beyond these walls. However, within these walls, you will be left to fend for yourself. A hierarchy exists in which you will become a part of; climb to the top and you will dictate those below you or stay at the bottom and fall prey to others.

          “Breakfast starts serving at seven every morning and classes start at nine. But tomorrow, you must be present at the Great Hall by eight-thirty to receive your timetables. That is all, good night.”

          Malfoy dismissed them and headed for the throne-like chair by the fireplace as the first-years began to walk towards their rooms. However, six older Slytherins detached from the rest of the observing students and stepped up to where Malfoy was and blocked their path. Their faces were twisted into various malicious sneers and grins before Bellatrix opened her mouth.

          “Hello, you ickle little first-years, I am Bellatrix Black,” Bellatrix cooed frighteningly as she flashed her teeth at them. Turais felt threatened and he knew the rest of the group shared his sentiment. “There are a lot of unwritten rules in the Noble House of Slytherin… and the most important one is that the leadership group, which includes myself, have the final say in every House matter.”

          Bellatrix suddenly hollered, causing the entire room to jump. “You must always obey us without exception , or you shall face your just punishment!” Then instantly, her voice dripped like sickeningly sweet honey, “But of course, you wouldn’t do that right?”

          The entire group of first-years was stilled with shock. Bellatrix looked smugly satisfied as she continued, “Good, then we will have such a fun time together!”

          Bellatrix cackled.

          If Turais had a mental fortitude of a first-year, he might have been absolutely petrified. However, he had survived a Wizarding War, so he was not impressed with her theatrics by the slightest. At least, not this teenaged version of her.

          “We are six of the members in this prestigious group that has the power to determine your fate,” Nott spoke after Bellatrix fell silent. “Lucius Malfoy, the Prefect who  welcomed you into this House, is the Leader and his words are final.”

          Nott then locked eyes with Turais. He spoke in a deadly whisper, “If you cross us, you will suffer the consequences.”

          Turais refused to back down from his gaze. Eventually, Nott broke the prolonged eye contact with an enraged expression. 

          “Who here is not a pureblood?” A tall, thin man with blonde hair and calculating, blue eyes asked suddenly as Turais recognized him as Yaxley from the Malfoy Ball. At the corner of his eyes, he realized that none of the first-years raised their hands. Turais did not know if they were telling the truth, or if they were just frozen in fear, or if they were actually scared of revealing the truth of their parentage. 

          “You!” Yaxley pointed at the boy closest to the front and shouted, “Family names of both parents.”

          The boy’s voice trembled and he said, “Pic… Picquery… an… and Sk… Skyes.”

          Yaxley seemed satisfied as he moved onto the next target. This time, it was the girl behind him, “You!”

          “Per… Perrot an… and Riviéres,” she stuttered. 

          “ French purebloods ,” Yaxley said with a hint of disgust, "But still better than half-bloods - You!” He pointed at the girl next to her.

          “Sme… Smethwyck and... and…” the girl looked as though she was on the verge of tears. “... and…”

          “And what , girl?” the boy leaned inches away from her quivering lips.

          “Lefévre…” she whispered. Yaxley leaned back suddenly and the girl raised her arm across her face as though she was anticipating a strike on the face. The six members of the Group laughed mockingly.

          “You thought I was going to hit you, girl?” Yaxley spoke. “Don’t worry, Lefévre is perfectly respectable. They’re just French. But as long as you’re a pureblood, you are welcomed in this house. Now, you!”

          Suddenly, Turais realized that Yaxley had gone through the entire crowd and reached the third-last student.

          “Gamp and Alderton,” the boy said.

          “Ah, I recognize the Gamp’s waxy blonde locks. And Alderton- you’re the son of Daphne Alderton, I suppose. Good blood. You!” Yaxley jabbed his finger at the boy beside him.

          “Fawley,” Alex said as he visibly gulped. 

          “And what, Fawley? I’m sure we all have the same burning question. Who is this new Fawley boy joining our midst? I did not know Mr Fawley married nor sired a son, but he’s quite the recluse… unless he had a secret and shameful dalliance with a muggle... ” the blonde boy smiled sinisterly at the potential half-blood. Fawley became deathly pale. “If you’re not telling me… that means you have something to hide -”

          “Excuse me, Yaxley,” Turais interrupted as everyone turned their attention towards him. This terrorization must stop before it turned ugly. He drew himself to his full height and aimed to exude an exorbitant air of regality and confidence as he addressed the boy once more. “Judging by your appearance, I would guess that you are Corban Thuban Yaxley, the person I knocked unconscious at this year's Malfoy Ball, accidentally. It was terrible blunder on my part, and I would like to take this opportunity to address this. And sorry about the wand, Nott. I did not mean to Disarm you, really.”

          Yaxley and Nott looked furious upon hearing Turais's taunt. Nott moved to pull out his wand, but Yaxley seized the other boy's wrist and stopped his movements.

          Controlling his facial muscles into a tight smile, Yaxley gritted out, “I suppose all of us should keep our eyes open to what will become of you, Turais Orion Black. Our newest and finest addition to the Slytherin House. So tell me, Black. Why did you interrupt -”

          “Black and Black,” Turais spoke simply. The rest of the first-years and the entire common room widened their eyes at his second interruption.

          “What do you mean?” Yaxley asked harshly.

          “Black and Black. They are the family names of my parents…” Turais stared fiercely into Yaxley’s gaze. “... and potentially Slytherin as well given my… unique ability.”

          The entire room stilled at the mention of the Hogwarts founder’s name.

          “Yaxley, now that you have finished playing your little game and terrorizing all of us, I would like to head to bed,” Turais said as he faked a yawn. “I am exhausted from my travels, and I’d hate to say a bad word about my first day at Hogwarts to my grandfather.”

          Turais grabbed Alex’s stiff shoulders and steered him to their dormitories without a second glance.

          They entered one of the male-designated bedrooms and found six poster beds arranged in a semi-circle fashion. Above his head, he saw a transparent dome that showed the dark murky waters of the Black Lake above. He quickly claimed the rightmost bed that was beside the wall and saw Alex claimed the bed next to his. Immediately, his initials were magically inscribed onto the front board of his bed. “T. O. B.,” it spelt. His school trunk and empty owl cage also appeared beside the chest a second later.

           When he opened up the trunk, a letter suddenly fell out onto the floor. Picking it up, Turais squinted at the front and recognized Sirius and Regulus's messy scrawl. He opened it and read its content:

          Dearest  big best-est brother Turais,

                           This was all Reggie’s idea.

                           HeySiri is lieing.

                           Don’t listen to Reggie.

                           Siri is the yucky rowmantic one.

                           But we will miss you. A lot. And lots. And lots and lots. And lots and lots and lots. Lots X10. 

                           Lots times 1000!!!

                           And don't forget about us! That's right, don't.   

                  Sincer Lots and lots and lots of love times infinity,

          Your Siri and Reggie

         Turais could feel the involuntary smile that crept onto his face as he reached the end of the secret letter. He placed it back into his breast-pocket for safe-keeping and started to plan for the thank you letter he had to send as soon as his owl returned. His gaze then landed on the framed family portrait of him with Orion, Sirius, and Regulus lying on top of the neatly-folded pile of robes.

         Turais already missed their smiling faces; and of course, Sirius had to sneak in a funny face as he made a cross-eyed look for one second before reverting back to an easy smile. 

          “Thanks for saving me back there…” Alex suddenly spoke as he was adjusting the photo's placement on his bedside table. "From... from the Gryffindors and.... um… thanks for saving me from the Slytherins too.”

          “Don't worry about it, Alex,” Turais said softly. “That's what friends are supposed to do for each other.”

          “Um… I could be a half-blood, but why did you help me... again and again?”

          Turais eyed the other boy, who was clearly shaken from his recent experience. He guided Alex to sit down on the bed with him and said gently, “Listen, Alex, I don’t care about your blood status and I could care less what your mother‘s blood status is. You can be a pureblood, half-blood, muggleborn, half-creature, non-magical, lycanthropic, but no one should be subjected to that kind of bullying. Also, no one should be prying into your familial matters. It’s no one else's business but yours.”

          Alex looked up at Turais with utmost gratefulness in his eyes.

          “I'm so glad you ended up in the same House as I did, Turais,” Alex whispered as tears started to well up in his eyes.

          “Oh, don't cry, you silly,” Turais chuckled. However, he finally had a taste of what Alex had experienced in the past and why he would be so resentful against the “ruling” members of the House. This reign of terror had to be stopped, and it seemed like Turais was the only one who would dare to shake up the system.

 

***

 

          The first class Turais attended in his second stay at Hogwarts was Charms with Professor Flitwick. The first Charm that they would learn today was the Levitation Charm, and with the lesson came the fond memories of Hermione and Ron.

          'Stop, stop stop! You're saying it wrong. It's Levi-o-sa, not Levio-sar.'

          Turais smiled inwardly as he pointed his wand at the feather before him. He proceeded to enunciate the words clearly, “Wingardium Leviosa.

          Gently, the feather rose from his table as everyone around him stared.

          “Oh, excellent precision and control, Mr Black!” Professor Flitwick squeaked excitedly on his precariously tilting stack of books. Meanwhile, Pierricoeur’s expression turned stony across the room. “Everyone please observe his exact wrist movement and enunciation. A well-deserved five points to Slytherin. Everyone else, start practicing please!”

          Turais gently waved the feather back down onto his table as the professor scurried over.

          “That was fantastic, Mr Black,” Flitwick said approvingly. “It was the best first attempt made by a first-year I've ever witnessed!”

          “Thank you, Professor,” Turais said. Over the Professor’s head, Turais could see that Pierricoeur had also mastered the Charm as his feather floated elegantly above his bench. But Flitwick was still talking animatedly to Turais and took no notice. Pierricoeur’s eyes flashed with irritation and indignation.

          “...and well done to you as well, Mr Fawley! I've never had more than one student master this charm in their first class before,” Flitwick gasped. “It seems I have identified my pair of most talented Charms students already, haven’t I? Take five more points for Slytherin.”

          Pierricoeur gripped his wand tightly as his magic flared up. Smelling the scent of burning ashes, Flitwick’s nose twitched as he turned around to find Pierricoeur’s gaze boring into Turais’s location, unaware that his feather was burning up mid-air.

          “Mr Pierricoeur!” Flitwick shouted as Pierricoeur snapped his eyes towards the tiny Professor. “Pay attention to your spell-casting! Two points -”

          “But Professor, I -” Pierricoeur protested.

          “Two points from Ravenclaw. You must learn to control your magic, Mr Pierricoeur. You’re not a buffoon brandishing a stick,” Flitwick said severely as Pierricoeur scowled. Beside Turais, he could hear Steward snickering at the affronted Ravenclaw.

      

***

 

          “How is yours the perfect shade of purple, Turais?” Gerald groaned in frustration as he stirred his crimson potion ferociously. His housemate, Sigmund Notley, was also struggling with his neon pink potion.

          Gerald and Sigmund shared a table with Turais and Alex during their first double-potions class. Their table was the only one that saw students from two houses working alongside each other, which attracted the occasional glances from everyone else. However, Turais wasn’t sure if it was because they were looking at the latest Parselmouth-on-display in Hogwarts or if was because they thought that a fight would occur at any time. 

          They were currently on the last step in making a second-year potion - the Sleeping Draught - as a test of their capabilities to follow instructions. As per the instructions, the potion should be dark purple in colour. Turais glanced at Alex’s potion, and it was in a darker shade of lilac. He would easily get an Outstanding for his potion.

          Unable to watch his companions struggle while knowing how to salvage their potions, Turais said, “Hey, Gerald, Sigmund. Add a sprinkle of lavender right now and stir anti-clockwise.”

          “Are you sure?” Sigmund eyed him suspiciously. Meanwhile, Gerald added the lavender without hesitation and started to stir. 

          “Yes, trust me. Your potion is over-stirred, so it overheated and inactivated the lavender -” Turais explained when Gerald interrupted him with a shout.

          “Thank you, Turais! You’re a lifesaver!” Gerald smiled as his potion now looked purple, but it was still a significantly lighter shade of purple compared to Alex’s potion. He would get an Acceptable for that colour. At the sight of his friend’s potion, Sigmund’s inhibition faded away and he did as instructed. After a while, his potion also turned into a very pale lilac colour.

          “Thanks, Turais. I’ll defer to your potions expertises from now on,” Sigmund grinned gratefully just as Professor Slughorn strolled towards their table. Professor Slughorn glanced at both Hufflepuffs’ potions quickly without comment and nodded approvingly at Alex’s cauldron. When he reached Turais’s cauldron, his eyes widened in surprise.

          “An absolutely splendid job, Turais!” Professor Slughorn exclaimed when he saw the contents in his cauldron. His Sleeping Draught was currently a shimmering deep purple colour with anti-parallel spirals of steam rising above the potion’s surface. 

          “Everyone gather around to look at Mr Black’s cauldron. His potion is the perfect shade of purple. And also observe the opposite spirals of steam coming off the potion’s surface. Only the most potent Sleeping Draughts will display this characteristic. If anyone drinks a gobletful of this potion, they will be knocked out cold for the rest of the week. Five points to Slytherin.”

          As everyone returned to their desks, Slughorn turned to Turais once again. “My boy, tell me, how did you do this? I know the instructions in the standard second-year Potions textbook does not lead to this result.” He peered down at his cutting board at said, “I see you have added seven Valerian sprigs instead of the stated four.”

          “Yes, but I also added a dash of essence of Nettle to the lavender and soaked it for five minutes before adding the lavender in the final step,” Turais said.

          “Ah, ingenious! Nettle oil would have neutralized the brain-stimulating property of the lavender. But even in small amounts, it would have interacted with the asphodel petals unfavourably and made the potion poisonous... except that you added three additional Valerian sprigs, which counterbalanced the effects,” Slughorn smiled approvingly. “As an improvement for next time, you could replace the Valerian sprigs with the Infusion of Wormwood instead to buffer the effects between the essence of Nettle and asphodel petals.”

          “Professor, but if I made that change, the potion would have turned black. And if I added in the Sopophorous beans on top of that, it will basically be a variation of the Draught of Living Death,” Turais commented amusedly.

          “Ah, I suppose you are correct, Mr Black. Take another five points for almost making a N.E.W.T.-level potion in his first Potions class,” Slughorn winked at him.

          “Ahem, teacher’s pet,” Gerald muttered teasingly. Turais kicked him in the shin under the table and the Hufflepuff yelped in pain.

 

***

 

          “Black! Fawley!” Nott shouted as Turais and Alex entered the common room.

          Turais looked around the room and saw that Lucius Malfoy was sitting casually at a plushy, crimson chair by the fireplace. A handful of older students and close allies of Malfoy, including Narcissa and Bellatrix Black, sat on the couches around him. Quickly, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at the approaching sixth-year.

          This was clearly a challenge posed by Malfoy and his gang to probe Turais's limits. If they wanted a show, Turais was prepared to play his part, and in his own terms.

          “How dare you and your half-blood sit with two Hufflepuffs during Potions class?” Nott stood up and strode towards the two first-years. “And even worse, I saw you entering the Great Hall with two Gryffindors -

          “Nott, who we choose to associate with is none of your concern,” Turais interrupted. “Keep your nose out of my business if you wish to keep it on your face.”

          “How dare you disobey an order from me?”

          “You have no power over us and what we do.”

          “Yes, I do,” Nott hissed. “As a ranking member of the -” 

          “Brutus,” Malfoy said softly as he rose from his seat. “Hasn’t Black laid bare his intention for you to leave him and his friend alone?”

          “I... what?” Nott grunted in confusion as he whipped around to look at Malfoy for his directives.

          “Brutus, he is the Black heir, after all,” the blonde-haired boy spoke softly. “You must pay him the respect that his family name affords him. However, that courtesy does not extend to his peers...”

          Nott grinned fiendishly and walked up to Alex slowly, “You are absolutely correct, Lucius. Then, allow me to do the hon-”

          The older boy’s breath hitched abruptly as he found a wand tip pressed against his chest.

          “Remember what I’ve said on the train,” Turais hissed as he stepped in front of Alex, protecting him. “This is your final warning.”

          “I'm not afraid of you, Black,” Nott snarled. “You won't get away with it -”

          ‘Langlock!’

          Nott gagged silently as his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

          “If you're not afraid of me, Nott, then you should learn to quickly,” Turais replied coolly. Then, he deliberately panned his gaze across the gathered group of students before settling his gaze on Malfoy squarely. “Do not mistake my kindness for weakness.”

          Turais grabbed the shell-shocked Alex by his hand and led him past the struggling Nott and Malfoy’s circle as they went to their room. He gave a parting glare at Malfoy, who looked back with his trademark impassive expression.

         “Did that just happen?” Alex asked after a minute of utter silence in their dormitory.

         “Yes, Alex,” Turais sighed, sitting down on his bed. So much for laying low.

         “We are so done for now! Urghh!” Alex threw himself on his bed and whined. “That was Nott! He’s basically the second-in-command under Malfoy and you just threatened him, and in front of Malfoy of all people. He’s going to end us now, and it’s only our first week here.”

         “He was going to cause trouble anyways, Alex.” Alex threw a pillow at him but Turais easily caught it. “At least now they know I will not be bending to their wishes, whatever they are.”

         Alex looked at Turais incredulously, his facial muscles between a smirk and a frown, but he ultimately decided to throw himself onto his bed followed by a muffled wail.

Chapter 11: The First Ascent (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE FIRST ASCENT


 

August 16, 1969 (Saturday)

 

LEACH IS OUT, JENKINS STEPS UP!

by Andy Smudgley

Afflicted with a Mysterious Illness for Months, Muggleborn Minister Resigns

 

After taking on the mantle of Minister for Magic for the past six years, the first Muggleborn Minister has officially announced his resignation, citing his declining health has barred him from further carrying out the role of his office. He will be succeeded by Eugenia Jenkins as the interim Minister for the remaining balance of his term until the next Ministerial election in two years' time.

Ever since last March, Minister Leach's health has been under intense scrutiny. The last public event that he was seen to be in full health was the March Malfoy Ball...

 

***

 

         It was the first weekend of the school term and Turais finally had the time to seek out the first item that would destroy Voldemort once and for all. This was why Turais found himself standing silently in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls how to ballet. 

          ‘I need a place to hide things. I need a place to hide things. I need a place to hide things.’

         Turais focused on his request and on his third pass in front of the blank wall, the long-awaited door finally materialized. 

         Turais opened the door to mountains upon mountains of hidden and forgotten items in the Room of Hidden Things. Wringing his mind for the memory of where he once hid Severus Snape’s Potion book, Turais made his way through the maze of assorted items. Turais searched for seemingly hours upon hours before he finally reached the chipped bust of an ugly old warlock, and a discoloured, old tiara nearby caught his attention. 

         The Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.

         As steadily as he could over his body which was trembling in anticipation and excitement, he pointed his wand at the Diadem as he focused all his magic on the spell and muttered 'Geminio.' 

         The Diadem shook as a replica slowly budded out and separated into two exact copies, one with the Horcrux while the other one without it. Turais examined his handiwork closely. Satisfied that the appearance was flawless, he replaced the real Diadem with his fake copy and hid the box once again.

         Taking a leaf out of the Regulus Black's deception in the original timeline with the Slytherin locket, Turais decided that there was no reason that Voldemort should suspect anyone would know about his Horcruxes, let alone where he hid them. So Turais was confident that the fake diadem would not be touched as Voldemort would never dare return, especially not when Dumbledore was Headmaster. This was one of the only Horcruxes that Turais could safely disable without raising suspicion for now.

         Carefully, Turais lifted the Diadem with his wand physically with the Diadem balanced on it and brought it to a relatively uncluttered space in the room. Placing it on the floor, he willed the strongest shield charm that could withstand Fiendfyre and saw a shimmering blue sphere curling itself into a cocoon of protective energy around the object. 

         Confident that the shield was complete, Turais then concentrated on summoning the Fiendfyre and directed his spell to form within the perpetually swirling, translucent barrier. A scalding heat ran from his magical core through his arm as a chaotic swirl of flame appeared inside the encasement. Beads of sweat started to gather on his brows from the heat and magical exertion as the fire twisted and turned in an unpredictable manner. Miniature serpents and chimeras were also visible. Every time the flames challenged the shield, Turais felt as though he he was punched in the stomach. He held onto his magic for dear life as the sentient fire struggled against its restraints. There was only one thing on his mind - the shield must hold...

         The tips of the flames touched the barrier and then shredded back into tiny flicks of amber before disintegrating. They crashed and slammed against the stone floor as it began to fissure under the pressure and heat.

         Fortunately, the barrier held.

         Turais watched the ball of energy that glowed in orange and black for a minute when he suddenly heard a loud, unearthly scream emitted within the swirling torrent of flame. However, the scream was short-lived as the roars of the Fiendfyre soon overtook it once more. Desperately tired, Turais gathered the last of his sanity and rapidly depleting magic to maintain the spells for another minute before he finally cancelled the Fiendfyre . Through the shield, he could see a large crack down the middle of the diadem as black liquid oozed out onto the blackened surface of the diadem, and finally onto the cracked and charred floor.

         Turais collapsed onto the cold, stone floor as his entire body protested and ached. Panting out labourious breathes, Turais felt light-headed from how the curse drained his magical energy. Anyone with the required intent and magic could cast Fiendfyre, such as Crabbe once did, but to control it was a completely different matter. Casting powerful Dark Spells with the immense control he just demonstrated was magically and physically draining, especially when he was still physically an eleven-year-old. Further aggravating his case, his magical core was inherently incompatible with Darker magics. He could easily maintain multiple Patronus Charms for hours, but a few minutes of Fiendfyre would put him in bed for the rest of day.

         For a brief moment, he wished he could seek out the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets and extract its fang. But unfortunately, he did not know how Voldemort controlled the beast nor did he want to accidentally unleash the monster upon the castle. So Fiendfyre was his only option. However, the deed was successfully completed and he would allow himself a short moment of victory.

          When Turais emerged from the Room of Requirements, he realized that the sun had long disappeared, leaving behind the starry night skies and silver crescent moon. Turais dragged his tired, aching body down several flights of stairs as the distant clock tower struck ten.  The image of a warm, comfort bed filled his mind as he rounded a corner and slammed into a large mass.

          Hissing in pain and confusion, Turais suddenly felt a hand gripping his wrist tightly as he was prompted to follow.

          They quickly ducked into a nearby classroom as the other boy closed the door behind him silently.

          “What -”

          “Shush! ” the other boy interrupted. After a few seconds in near-darkness, the sound of slow, cautious footsteps echoed louder and louder before it paused on the other side of the door.

          A faint, yellow glow spilt through the narrow space between the door and the stone floor as a familiar voice croaked sinisterly, “Students out of bed... Oh, if I get my hands on you...”

          Fortunately, the light dimmed as the footsteps faded into complete silence as Turais released a breath he did not know he was holding all this time. Carefully, they creaked the door open little by little. Making sure that Filch was nowhere in sight, they slipped back into the corridor.

          “Sorry for dragging you into the room without warning,” the other boy said, eyeing the direction where the caretaker headed. “It was a bit of an emergency.”

          “No, no,” Turais waved the apology away. “I prefer to stay out of trouble.”

          The other boy chuckled lightly as he scratched his messy bed of hair. Now that Turais had a chance to observe the other boy, he thought the fair hair, kind eyes and cheery grin looked vaguely familiar.

          “Sounds a bit ironic, considering that you are wandering in the hallways past curfew.”

          “Pot, meet kettle.”

          The other boy grinned.

          “So, why is a Hufflepuff so deep in Slytherin territory at this hour?”

          The boy’s smile froze as he glanced at his watch. There was a quick hitch of breath before he fumbled for something in his trouser pocket, seeming downright terrified.

          “What is it -”

          However, Turais couldn't even finish his sentence before he caught a glimpse of the other boy trying to draw his wand. Turais immediately drew his own weapon and tapped the wand against the other boy's sleeve.

          “I would not do that if I were you,” Turais said warningly as the other boy's movement stilled. Training his wand at the other boy warily, Turais confiscated the wand and asked, “What is all this about -”

          Turais suddenly detected the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. He whipped around and thrust the second wand at...

          “Cousin Andromeda?” Turais gasped. He saw a flash of fear across Andromeda's face when something clicked in his mind, prompting him to look back at the Hufflepuff. “You're Ted Tonks?”

          “How... how do you know who I am?” Tonks asked stutteringly.

          Turais ignored the question as he turned his attention back to his cousin.

          “You... you and Tonks... this cannot be a coincidence, right?” Turais muttered incoherently as he dropped his aim. His mind was spinning in overdrive and he was not certain what he was trying to say either. “You... two are meeting up... are you two dating?”

          Andromeda closed her eyes and sighed heavily in what seemed to be resigned acceptance. This all but confirmed Turais’s suspicion.

          “Oh, dear me,” Turais muttered as he realized that he had just interrupted a midnight rendezvous between the couple. Feeling embarrassed more than anything else, Turais clutched Tonks’s hand and stuffed the wand into his palm. “I am terribly sorry. I will leave right this instance.”

          “Wait, Turais!” Andromeda hissed urgently as she stopped Turais from running away.

          “I'm not going to tell on you, Andy,” Turais said immediately. “Your secret is safe with me.”

          Andromeda did not yield. “How can we trust you?”

          “You can't. But considering that I had a wand aimed at each of you and then proceeded to return Tonks's wand willingly, you will just have to believe that I harbour no bad intentions. That... and the fact that I am confident in winning a duel against the both of you should you pursue that path,” Turais replied honestly. Eyeing the disbelief on Andromeda's face, Turais sighed and continued, “Andy, I don't care who you are involved with since it is none of my business. And also, Tonks rescued me from a detention with Filch, so let’s treat this as me returning a favour for his troubles.” 

          Turais gently removed Andromeda's now-pliant hand from his arm. He shot a curt nod at the couple before he continued on his way towards the Slytherin common room, hoping that he did not affect the outcome of Andromeda and Tonks's relationship in any way.

          He slipped quietly into the empty Slytherin common room that was basked in an ethereal glow of turquoise green. The dying flames in the fireplace crackled faintly beside him as distant echoes of the alluring music by the Selkies permeated throughout the subterranean cavern. Turais took a moment to enjoy the otherworldly symphony before he walked back to the boy's dormitory.

          The harsh, amber rays from the gas lamps bore down upon him as Turais saw the five other occupants of the room looking at him with expressions ranging from mild curiosity to outright suspicion.

          "Where were you, Black?" one of Turais's roommates, Matthias Flint, asked unpleasantly. "It's more than an hour after curfew."

          "What is it to you, Flint?" responded Turais as he felt the concerned gaze from Alex.

          "You're nothing but trouble, Black! Thank Merlin that my father doesn't work with your Lord Black so I don't need to pretend to like your ugly mug," Flint snapped. 

          "If you're calling him ugly, you clearly don't understand the word," Steward commented as he looked up lazily from his textbook. "Maybe try the mirror, that'll show you what true ugliness is."

          "Steward! You're lucky that -"

          " - that my father doesn't work with Lord Malfoy so I don't need to be pals with you," Steward said. "Sleeping beside you is vile enough."

          "Yeah, Flint. Do yourself a favour. Shut up and hide behind your curtains," Rivers added.

          Urquhart, the boy who occupied the leftmost poster bed, drew back his curtains and shouted, “All of you shut your big fat mouths, I’m trying to go to sleep.”

          “Then knock yourself out, Urquhart,” Flint snapped.

          “Yeah, your poor family doesn’t even have a seat in the Wizengamot so you’re not entitled to an opinion,” Rivers concurred as Urquhart's scowl deepened.

          “I don't want to have anything to do with any of you either," Urquhart fumed as he drew his curtains shut again.

          “And we don’t want to see your face,” Rivers retorted.

          “Everyone, stop arguing at once!” Turais shouted as all the boys turned their attention to him. “You will not make personal attacks against anyone else in this room.”

          Flint snorted. “Steward and Rivers might be under your command, but you have no control over what I do, Black.”

          “Watch your words, Flint,” Rivers said menacingly. "I am not one of Black's minions. I am from a Grey family and -”

          “That just means your family is spineless,” Flint sneered.

          “At least they’re not a complete tosser like you, Flint,” retorted Steward.

          “You speak as though your family is any better, Steward. If we and the Malfoys lose, you wankers are losing as well. Put that in your pipe and smoke it,” Flint said before drawing his curtains up.

          "The revolting face has finally disappeared," Steward said loudly at the curtain beside him. "Glad we don't have anything to do with each other."

          The dormitory fell into a stilted silence as Turais rubbed his face tiredly.

 

***

 

          “Transfiguration is a very scientific, disciplined branch of magic. Unlike Charms or Potions where the practitioner may display some personal flair in their works, this will not be possible in my class,” Professor McGonagall lectured her Slytherin-Ravenclaw class. “Transfiguration will likely be your most challenging class in Hogwarts. But as long as you finish your readings and complete all your homework, I will personally see to it that you succeed in my class.

          “After learning the basic theory of Transfiguration last week, today you will apply it and learn how to Transfigure an animal into a matchbox. The incantation is Flintifors and the wand movement is as such.” 

          Professor McGonagall demonstrated in front of the classroom. “One, two, Flintifors.” 

          On the stand where the mouse previously was now stood an empty, wooden match box. Gasps filled the room as students waited impatiently to try out proper magic. “Now go ahead and practice.”

          At once, the room was filled with the sounds of the spell-casting. Turais pulled out his wand and pointed at the mouse lying on his table. He was about to cast the spell when Alex whispered beside him.

          “It’s supposed to be really rare.”

          “Huh?” Turais looked up from his task and saw Alex’s eyes fixated on the elder wand. “What is?”

          “Your wand wood. It’s elder, isn’t it?”

          “Yes, it is,” Turais confirmed. “How did you know?”

          “The colour, the grain pattern, and the grain direction, just to name a few,” Alex supplied quickly as he ran the pad of his thumb down the length of the wood. “And if you look closely, you can also see the marks where the branch lenticels were. This is quite a typical pattern found in elder wood.”

          “I wouldn't be able to tell, if I'm completely honest,” Turais said. “And you sound quite knowledgeable in the craft of wand-making.”

          Alex's ears pinked at the compliment. “I've just managed to read a book or two on wand magic. I just... I just find it fascinating...”

          “Did you know… that when I was a child, I always wanted to be a wand-maker?” 

          Turais suddenly remembered the older Alexander Fawley's final words before his death. Now, Alex's interest in wand-making made prefect sense.

          “But isn’t this a bit short for an elder wand?” Alex continued to ask.

          “What do you mean it’s too short?”

          “Well, elder is associated with great power and character. And typically, a person’s character is reflected through the length of the wand. Therefore, branches offered by Elder trees are often longer than the typical wood. Yours is twelve inches at most, which is quite odd.”

          Turais looked around and saw Professor McGonagall at the opposite corner of the classroom. He turned back to Alex. “It’s eleven and a half inches, actually.”

          “That’s intriguing, then. Wandmakers are quite superstitious and wary of anomalies, so they tend to meditate on such occasions should they arise,” Alex hummed. “Did Ollivander speak of how he fashioned your wand? Interesting stories or the likes?”

          “Well, Ollivander did tell me that when he found this branch, there was a thestral tail hair caught around it.”

          “Wait, what? A thestral tail hair? And he still crafted a wand from the wood?” Alex exclaimed, but then he realized he was in class. So, he lowered his voice before continuing, “Elder is notorious for their tendency to take on the characteristics of its environment. This is also one of the main reasons why they are so difficult to work with. If the branch was in contact with a thestral tail hair, the wood would have been imbued with the hair’s characteristics. That’s highly dangerous for the wand-owner!” 

          “What do you mean -”

          There was an audible clearing of throat behind Turais as he looked up to find Professor McGonagall toweringly over him with her lips pressed dangerously thin.

          “Mr Black, would you care to demonstrate the spell?” 

          Flustered, Turais took his wand and hastily cast the spell. He stared intently as the mouse morphed perfectly into the exact same wooden matchbox that Professor McGonagall demonstrated a while ago. Relieved, he looked up at the teacher, only to find her mouth gaped open while staring at him.

          “Did I do something wrong, Professor?” Turais asked, genuinely confused at the teacher’s reaction.

          “Nothing, Mr Black. Everyone, please look at Mr Black’s matchbox.” She raised his transfigured matchbox for the class to see. “This is what you all should aim for. Clean, smooth surface with sharp, straight edges and no patternings or etchings on the sides. Five points to Slytherin.”

          Turais took in Pierricoeur’s furious expression as she placed the matchbox down and walked away. Turais immediately turned to Alex and asked, “What did I say? Why did she look at me like that?”

          “That’s exactly what’s wrong, Turais. You didn’t say anything. You just transfigured the mice into a matchbox non-verbally. Non-verbal transfiguration is supposed to be really advanced. How did you do that?”

          Turais gaped at his words, not realizing his actions. “Um, I don’t know. I just thought really hard and said the spell in my mind loudly. I didn’t realize that I didn’t actually say the spell out loud.”

          Alex muttered something under his breath that Turais did not catch as they focused back on their classwork. However, a few minutes later, Alex successfully managed to turn his mouse into a matchbox. Its edges were more curvy than Turais’s and its sides were etched with an intricate whisker pattern, but seeing that no one was even close to having anything remotely rectangular-shaped on their table, Alex could easily claim a close second.

          Looking pleased with his attempt, Alex continued the conversation.

          “Yours has some properties of the thestral tail hair, that's for sure," Alex said. "But what is the wand core? Also thestral tail hair?"

          According to pureblood etiquette, it was considered a taboo to ask others about their wand cores.

          “Alex, it is not appropriate to ask people about their wand core,” Turais hissed. “You can get into deep trouble.”

          Alex blanched. “I'm sorry, I d... didn't realize that... I meant no offense, Turais. I know wand core is considered highly personal information as it reveals the wand owner's magical nature... but it didn't occur to me that...”

          “I don't mind, Alex,” Turais placated quickly. “But I need to make sure you know to not pose the question to anyone else, particularly Slytherin purebloods.”

          Alex gulped heavily as he nodded in affirmation.

          “I... I understand. Mine is rowan and unicorn hair, just so you know.”

          Turais sighed in exasperation. 

          “You don't need to offer up your wand information so easily either, Alex...”

          “But I trust you,” Alex said softly. Turais stilled, feeling inexplicably touched by the display of faith.

          “Thank you, Alex. Well... my wandcore is the horned serpent horn. Shhhhh! ” Turais slapped Alex on the arm as his friend gasped out loud. Professor McGonagall shot a look at their tables but said nothing once she saw their transfigured matchboxes.

          “That’s amazing. Elder wood imprinted with thestral tail hair and a horned serpent horn core. What a combination! It’s a wonder anyone could ever be matched with a wand like that,” Alex gasped excitedly. “Can I ask Ollivander for more information?”

          “Of course, as long as you tell me what you find out.”

          “Deal,” Alex beamed.

          “So, do you want to become a wand-maker in the future?” Turais probed subtly.

          Alex shrugged.

          “It is an option, I suppose. But I read that I will need to become an apprentice and complete my Mastery. There aren't many wand-makers in the world, and I... I don't know if they would even take me in… ” 

          “Why wouldn’t they?” Turais asked.

          "Well, because wand-making is a highly-specialized trade. Most families like to keep the profession and trade secrets within the family, and I... well, I'm obviously not an Ollivander, so -"

          “Mr Black! Mr Fawley!” 

          As Professor McGonagall yelled at them for chattering, Turais was reminded of why Alex ended up becoming an Auror and not a wand-maker. It was only because of Alex's family name that he was rejected. With that thought, Turais fell silent for the remainder of the class, not daring to face the Professor's wrath. After class, as he was packing up his bag, he saw Professor McGonagall walking up to him. “Mr Black, would you mind staying behind for one moment?”

          Nodding, he waved at Alex to go on before walking towards her desk. “Yes, Professor?”

          “Mr Black, did you realize that you have just cast a non-verbal Transfiguration spell perfectly?” McGonagall asked.

          “Yes, Alex told me about it after you left our desk.”

          “And do you know that it is difficult for an adult to achieve this level of magic, let alone a first-year?”

          “No, I’m not aware of that, Professor,” said Turais truthfully.

          Professor McGonagall sighed. “Very well, please do not hesitate to ask me if you find the material too trivial. I am glad you and Mr Fawley developed a fast friendship, but please refrain from disturbing others with excessive chattering during class.”

          “I promise and I’m sorry, Professor.”

          “Very well, off you go then.” 

          McGonagall dismissed him.

 

***

 

          “Black.”

          Pierricoeur called Turais's name as he approached the group of first-year Slytherin and Ravenclaw students that had already gathered outside the greenhouse.

          “Pierricoeur,” Turais greeted cautiously.

          “I was talking to a sixth-year in my House and he showed me a curious little spell...”

          “Good for you, Pierricoeur. I don’t know why you’re telling me this but I'm not particularly interested -” Turais said when he saw Pierricoeur reach for his wand. Turais immediately drew his own.

          “Expelliarmus!

          “Serpensortia!

          Pierricoeur yelled out the incantation but his wand was pointed at Alex. Instantly, a dark, thick-bodied snake shot out from his wand and draped over Alex’s head as Pierricoeur’s wand flew into Turais's hand.

          Alex paled and froze on the spot while the other first-years who witnessed the exchange screamed.

          “Where am I? S...oft flesh… Hungry. Pulse…”

          Turais recognized the characteristic flat and vertical head. Of course the closest snake to Pierricoeur had to conjure up was the only venomous species of snake native to Scotland - the adder. Its bite was not lethal but still terribly painful, and Turais would rather stop the snake from biting Alex in the first place.

          “Hey… I am Turais... I s...peak. I can bring you food, but please… don’t bite my friend.”

          “A human s...peaker? Of course… if you promise... me food. I haven’t eaten in a long time.”

          Turais reached his hands towards the snake and it slithered onto his arm while unwrapping itself from Alex’s head. He released a breath he didn’t realize he held.

          “Alex, are you okay?” Looking back up to Alex’s face that was white with fear. Suddenly, he realized the unusually silent hallway, void of any chatter or footsteps. Looking away from Alex’s stricken face, he realized the greenhouse doors were opened and the grounds were full of students who stood there staring at him. The previous fourth-year Herbology class must’ve just been dismissed. 

          “Woah, did he just speak to the snake?” A messy, black-haired Gryffindor boy exclaimed.

          “He’s a Parselmouth, Kaiden. Haven’t you heard?” The brown-haired Gryffindor girl next to him scolded.

          Ignoring the whispers around him, Turais glared at Pierricoeur. He was as pale as Alex and equally as distressed, but his expression was one of pure hatred and loathing.

          “Pierricoeur! How dare you conjure up a venomous snake and attack my friend?! I’m going to report you,” Turais barked. The adder coiled itself and reached its head towards his ears and it hissed. 

          “Do you want me to bite him, young human?”

          “No, that’s... not nec...essary. But thank you for the offer though.”

          “Pierricoeur, I don’t care if you dislike me. But I will not condone violence or attacks against anyone , Slytherin or not.” Turais’s voice rang in the silent hallway. He turned to the shakened Alex, “Alex, let’s go. We’re going to tell Professor Sprout about this.”

          After a painfully awkward class where everyone was blatantly staring at Turais with apprehension, when the bell signifying the end of class finally sounded, Turais immediately packed his bag and fled the greenhouses.

          “So, you're a Parselmouth,” Alex asked quietly as they walked back to Slytherin common room.

          “Yes,” Turais confirmed.

          “And that just means you can communicate with snakes?”

          Turais eyed Alex before asking, “Yes. The hissing is an actual language called Parseltongue. And as a speaker of Parseltongue, I can speak to snakes.”

          “Oh... I didn't know that...” Alex muttered as he scratched his neck. “Sorry for the silly questions.”

          “No, no.”

          “And it partially explains why you are chosen by that particular wand you now hold,” Alex said thoughtfully.

          “And what is that reasoning?”

          “Horned serpent horn cores are highly attuned to Parselmouths,” Alex explained. “I just didn't know what exactly a Parselmouth was until today -”

          “Cousin Turais,” a voice hissed out. Turais turned towards the sound and watched as Andromeda emerged from behind a suit of armour, which elicited a surprised gasp from Alex.

          “I suppose there is a reason for this rather peculiar entrance.”

          Andromeda's expression turned tense as she asked, “May I have a word?” Casting a glance at his companion, she added, “In private.”

          “Of course,” Turais said. Turning to Alex, he said gently, “Alex, why don't you head back first?”

          Alex nodded nervously and eyed Andromeda for a final time before he scuttled off. Turais gestured at a nearby, unused classroom and Andromeda followed. Closing the door behind her, she summoned two chairs from the nearby pile towards her and sat down. Turais mirrored the action and patiently waited until his cousin spoke up.

          "Thank you," she said simply, and Turais immediately understood her meaning.

          “There is nothing to thank me for,” Turais said firmly.

          Andromeda gave him a long, stern gaze before her eyes softened. She said, “There.... there is something different about you, Turais... something that sets you apart from the rest of the family, and in a good way.”

          Turais quirked his eyebrow and quipped, “You've gathered that much insight from one single encounter.”

          Andromeda gave him an unimpressed glare before saying, “We have seen each other quite frequently over the years.”

          “But not enough to formulate an opinion, surely,” replied Turais. The Black brothers rarely intermingled with their cousins due to the difference of age and, well... a big problem in the form of Bellatrix Black, whom Sirius detested.

          “Indeed,” Andromeda conceded, “But given your friendship with a muggleborn and the fact that my sisters seemed to still be blissfully unaware of my... problematic liaison with one, I would like to think that you are different from the rest of the family in at least one important aspect.”

          “Fair enough.”

          “It pains me to say that... that no one else in the family will support our union,” Andromeda admitted softly. “But at least I hope that I have an ally in you.”

          Turais reached out and squeezed Andromeda's hand. With a smile, he said, “Of course, Andy.”

          Andromeda's sharp eyes scanned Turais's expression for any insincerity but found none. Then, she heaved a heavy sigh of relief and leaned back into her chair as her eyes started to well up with tears. Alarmed, Turais conjured a handkerchief and handed it to his cousin, who took it and started dabbing the corners of her eyes.

          “I do apologize for the unseemly behaviour,” Andromeda breathed out shakily as she tried to blink the tears away. 

          “It must have been so difficult for you,” Turais whispered, berating himself for not doing more. “I should have reached out to you sooner.”

          “You couldn't possibly have known. Ted and I deliberately made it so.”

          Except, that was not remotely the truth. Turais knew that Andromeda and Tonks would marry each other, he just didn't know the details of it. However, he should have known how isolated Andromeda felt in a family that would easily turn their back against her due to her love for a muggleborn.

          “But you have me now,” Turais said fiercely as he squeezed her hand. “You are not alone in this, Andy.”

          Andromeda chuckled wetly and squeezed back.

          “Oh, how I wished to hear this from someone in my family.”

          “Our family, Andy. You and I are family.”

          Andromeda looked at Turais's supportive smile as her lips formed a similar smile as well.

          “Thank you, Turais,” she whispered. “You don't know how much this means to me.”

          They sat in a companionable silence for a long while before Andromeda spoke up again in a severe tone, “Turais, I have something I would like to caution you.”

          “And what is that?”

          “Your blatant disregard for Malfoy and his cronies... it is dangerous,” Andromeda said. “I don't wish to see you harmed.”

          “Andy,” Turais comforted. “I am the Black heir, and my station shall provide me with enough protection.”

          “Turais, I'm not sure if you truly appreciate the severity of the situation,” his cousin said hesitantly. “I am not alluding to the petty name-calling or verbal abuse that you have been dealing with, but something worse... and more violent.”

          “Do not fret, Andy, but I promise to stay vigilant. Alright?” 

          Andromeda frowned at Turais's calm demeanour, but she ultimately yielded to his words. She stood up and returned the chairs back to their original positions.

          “Please be very careful.”

          With that, Andromeda opened the classroom door and ensured that no one was around before she left.

Chapter 12: The Phoenix, the Serpent, and the Slug Club (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWELVE

THE PHOENIX, THE SERPENT, AND THE SLUG CLUB


 

October 12, 1969 (Sunday)

 

BLACK-MALFOY ALLIANCE IN TALKS

by R. A. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

The Rise of the Two-Party System?

 

According to an anonymous source within the Malfoy office, Lord Abraxas Malfoy has been negotiating a partnership with Lord Arcturus Black to unite their two alliances in the Wizengamot. The Malfoy alliance with the Dark families, including Lords Avery, Nott, and Travers, amount to 23 seats while the Black alliance with the Grey families, including Lords Greengrass, Macmillan, and Steward, have a combined 14 seats. If they joined forces, they will pose a unified threat against the Fawley-led coalition of Ministry offices and Light families.

"It is unfortunate that the greatest deliberative body in the Wizarding world has degenerated into petty partisanship," Lord Patrick Arkenstone commented as our reporter spotted him shopping at Diagon Alley with his family. "What happened to evaluating every bill based on its merits? What happened to being open to work with and amend bills with any peers within the chamber? They are destroying all these well-established precedents without care and it is frankly disheartening to see."

Soon after, Lord Reginald Nott responded when our reporter recited Lord Arkenstone's submission: "It is laughable that [Lord Arkenstone] claims we are the ones who break tradition when our Chief Warlock acts as the commander-in-chief who enacts the Ministry's agenda. The Chief Warlock is supposed to be a neutral, non-partisan, and unbiased position. But he has proven over and over again in the last few years that he has none of those qualities. I fear for our community and our children to have such an unsavoury character in such powerful positions."

 

***

 

          Hogwarts’s rumour mills worked its magic. After that weekend, it seemed as though the entire school knew of the adder incident. Surprisingly, Turais’s Parseltongue ability did not generate the intense scrutiny and suspicion that he once received. While people were still casting curious glances at Turais when he walked past, they were almost friendly and respectful. Without Voldemort being outwardly evil yet, it was clear to Turais that the stigma of being a Parselmouth was not as terrible as he feared.

          However, Turais’s plan to lay low had seemingly been torn into shreds after only one month at school.

          He now had a growing reputation of being the most talented wizard Hogwarts had ever seen as he was seemingly able to master any charm, spell, or potion on his first attempt. Alongside his family name and his newly-publicized Parseltongue ability, Turais realized that he was never going to simply melt back into the background again.

          Perhaps, he was plain naïve to think he could’ve ever finished Hogwarts as one of the less memorable students, especially as the Black heir.

          Turais and Alex were heading towards the library one day. As they passed by one of the less-frequented corridors, Turais saw Nott and two other sixth-years he recognized as Mulciber and Tremblay cornering two first-year Gryffindors: Jane Stahl and Connor Blake. They were both Muggleborns, so it was apparent that Nott was bullying them due to their blood status. 

          “It is not safe for two Gryffindors to roam the dungeon alone, especially two mudbloods,” Nott smiled sadistically as the two first-years cowered with their backs pressed against the castle wall. In his right hand was a wand that he twirled menacingly in front of their faces.

          “Turais, don’t -” Alex hissed as he reached for Turais’s arm, but it was too late as Turais came around the corner into their sight.

          “What do you think you are doing, Nott?” Turais shouted as Alex followed behind him very reluctantly.

          "Acting as the stray collector again, Black? First, a half-blood -" Nott jerked his head at the nervous boy by Turais's side, " - then Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and now mudbloods? What's next, werewolves?" 

          Mulciber and Tremblay laughed mockingly.

          "Stop what you are doing right now, or I'm forced to act," said Turais furiously.

          “Black, I was just trying to show your first-year friends what will happen if they attempt to turn upstanding purebloods into blood traitors.” Nott turned back to the two trembling first-years.

          Just as Nott was about to utter a spell, Turais pulled his wand out and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

          Turais sent a powerful Disarming Spell towards Nott, who collapsed with his wand clattering onto the floor. The two Gryffindors screamed as the other sixth-years cast their own curses. Turais and Alex ducked into a nearby alcove and away from the hexes.

          “We’re gonna die!” Alex wailed as he cowered in the corner.

          From their hiding spot, Turais aimed an Incarcerous at Mulciber, who was instantly tied-up. He sent another Stunning Spell at Tremblay immediately after ducking his green hex. Tremblay crumpled to the ground with a single grunt.

          “What on earth happened here?!” Professor McGonagall strolled into view. Glancing at the three collapsed bodies and then at Turais's dueling stance, the Professor asked stonily, “Mr Black, please explain yourself.”

          “Excuse me, Professor McGonagall. If I may?” Jane squeaked with a trembling voice. “Turais was defending Connor and I from the three older Slytherins. They called us mudbloods and called Turais a blood traitor. He -” Jane pointed at Nott’s unconscious body. “- pointed his wand at me and was about to curse me when Turais shot a spell at them. The other two had a duel with him and they were also beaten.”

          “Is that true, Mr Blake?” Professor McGonagall asked the other Gryffindor sharply. He gulped and nodded, his body still shaking.

          “Mr Black, which spells did you use?”

          “A Disarming Spell on Nott. Then during the duel, a Stunner at Tremblay and an Incarcerous on Mulciber, professor,” Turais said, looking at Nott and Tremblay’s unconscious bodies while Mulciber laid on the stone floor flushed with anger and, possibly, shame.

          “Mr Black, you did the honourable thing to defend your fellow classmates. However, duelling is not permitted in the hallways without exception. I’m afraid I will have to send all of you to your Head of House,” Professor McGonagall said sternly. After rennervating the unconscious Slytherins, she escorted the Slytherins to Professor Slughorn’s office. Upon hearing the news, Professor Slughorn was clearly torn between being outwardly impressed or impassive towards his favourite first-year student who was able to out-duel three sixth-years. Nott, Mulciber, and Tremblay all received nightly detentions for the entirety of November while Turais was only given a verbal reprimand. 

          Nott was silently seething all the way back to the common room, where Turais saw everyone was gathered. All the Slytherins had heard about the incident by now and they were all curious of the outcome. And after Professor Slughorn finally left, Nott turned on Turais.

          “Black,” he spat. “You will pay for this!”

          Turais walked past Nott, ignoring him, and headed for his room.

          “How dare you ignore me?! You dirty little blood traitor - ” Nott screamed as he sent a hex at Turais, who smoothly sidestepped it. Turais whipped around and bored into Nott's eyes while all the observing Slytherins scuttered against the walls of the common room.

          “Nott , back off right now, this is my final warning,” Turais issued his ultimatum.

          “Draw your wand!” Nott screamed. “Fight me, coward!”

          “I do not wish to fight you.”

          “Why? Because you think so highly of your ability? Flipendo!”

          Turais ducked as the blue jinx flew past him wildly off-target. It contacted the stone wall behind Turais as he heard the sound of debris scattering onto the floor.

          “Nott!” Turais implored, “You have to stop this madness at once -”

          “Relashio!” Once again, Turais sidestepped gracefully as the purple light streamed past him harmlessly. It did not even come close to contacting him. However, every miss only served to agitate Nott further. Turais also gave up on trying to calm the other boy down.

          “Incendio!” The green drapes caught on fire.

          As Nott grew frustrated, his spells grew Darker and more dangerous. Yet, Turais did not return any spells of his own. He did not even draw his wand. 

          “Expulso!” The book cabinet exploded as the glass and wood debris flew.

          “Bombardo!” A large chunk of the staircase marble was reduced to pieces.

          “Confringo!” The wall behind Turais exploded as he felt the shockwaves from the site of impact travel throughout the room. Sensing it was time to end the embarrassing display and before Nott started casting actual Dark curses, Turais palmed his wand and pointed it at Nott.

          ‘Levicorpus maxima!’

          Nott was suddenly swept off his feet as he dropped his wand and shot up feet-first onto the ceiling where he dangled upside-down helplessly. Turais scanned the crowd, past Alex's shocked expression, and finally stopped his gaze on Lucius Malfoy, who was seated in his velvet chair.

          “I will not repeat myself again. My acquaintances are none of your concerns, and you will not attack them!” Turais bellowed harshly. “Any attempt to interfere with my decision will not succeed.”

          Turais watched Malfoy’s grip on his cane tighten as his knuckles turned white. He was sending the leader of Slytherin a warning, and it was now Malfoy’s decision to accept or refuse his demands.

          Malfoy stood up and spoke, “Well said, Turais.”

          The crowd shifted as they realized that Lucius Malfoy had referred to Turais by his first name. The implications were not lost on Turais either. 

          “It is entirely up to your discretion to choose who you are associated with. Nott has clearly overstepped his boundaries and I will ensure that he will never do it again. However, I would suggest that you let him down at some point later this evening for it will be most unfortunate if Professor Slughorn were to notice such an unseemly sight.”

          “Indeed, Malfoy,” Turais returned as the room gasped at his blatant snub against the Malfoy heir. ‘Libracorpus!’ 

          Nott slowly lowered onto the floor, whimpering with tears and looking pathetically small. With a final warning glare, Turais strolled back to his room, hoping that his point was sufficiently made.

 

***

 

          As expected, Turais’s duel against Nott and Malfoy’s concession made certain that nobody would dare to cross him openly in Slytherin anymore. In addition, if they had anything derogatory to utter to half-bloods or Muggleborns, they made sure that they did not voice it in Turais’s presence. Nott flushed and left from the nearest exit whenever Turais entered the same room, much to Turais’s enjoyment as he no longer had to deal with the nuisance. Alex, who the entire House knew was his closest friend, also no longer suffered from taunts or bullying.  

          Beyond the Slytherin common room, his heroic act of saving Jane and Blake had spread rapidly throughout the school thanks to the school’s rumour mills fueled by the first-years that were present. The fact that the Black heir stepped in to stop three Slytherin bullies from attacking two Gryffindor muggleborns raised many eyebrows. And the Monday after the incident, instead of the cold, indifferent glances he had always received from the more cynical students, they now greeted him with appraising nods..

          It seemed as though everyone’s perception of him changed for the better besides Pierricoeur... and one other notable exception. 

           Turais was searching the library catalogue for books on wandlore when he discovered there was pitifully few literature on it.

           “Madam Pince,” Turais greeted the librarian at the front desk after his fruitless search. “I am having a little trouble searching for books on wandlore and wandcraft. I was wondering if you can help me?”

           “Well, Mr Black, I daresay that you will not have much success with that task here, or anywhere, in fact,” Madam Pince replied with a clipped tone. “The study of wand magic is one of the most well-kept secrets in the Wizarding World. Few have access to more advanced knowledge as they tend to be contained in observations or personal experiences written down by wand-makers in their diaries, which are subsequently passed down the generations within their families.”

           “Oh, I see. Thank you for your help,” Turais said with a hint of disappointment before he returned to the depths of the library where he came across Jane.

           “Hi, Jane,” Turais whispered. 

           “Hi, Turais,” Jane whispered back as Turais peered over her shoulder to read the book.

           “Studying Potions, I see,” noted Turais. 

           Jane groaned despairingly. “Potions is so difficult. All my potions end up lumpy and I don’t think Slughorn is too impressed. I think I will fail this subject.” 

           “Lumpy, you say,” Turais hummed. “Are you not stirring it properly?”

           “I think I am. I always follow all the instructions to the tee.”

           “Sometimes it really comes down to experience,” Turais explained. “Over-stir the potion in a certain direction and you overheat it. Under-stir the potion and you do not catalyze the reaction sufficiently. Stir it with the wrong speed and you might not get the proper aeration within the potion layers to have the right colour. Using different types of ladels could also affect it -” 

           “There you are, Black,” the fourth-year, Evelyn Napier, said quietly as he looked at the bookshelves around Turais and Jane.

           “The Goblins’ Rebellion section? No wonder it took me ages to find you,” Napier smirked as he held out a roll of parchment that was tied with a purple ribbon. “No one would ever willingly come here.”

           “Are you my personal owl, Napier?” Turais quipped jokingly as he unscrolled the parchment. “First for Slughorn on the train, now -”

           It was from Dumbledore and he wanted to speak with him. Turais groaned. He anticipated that Dumbledore would take the incident as an opportunity to speak to him, but he did not expect it to be so soon.

          Napier seemed to pick up on his mood change and said, “Black, none of the Slytherins like to deal with the Headmaster. You might as well just get it over with.”

          “It’s from Professor Dumbledore?” Jane hissed at the two boys. “Are you in trouble, Turais?”

          “I don’t think so… I mean I haven’t done anything…” Turais trailed off as he blanched at what just happened two nights ago. Dumbledore might have caught wind of what he did to Nott.

          Jane must have seen the change in his expression but misinterpreted the cause. She whispered urgently, “Was it because of your duel with Nott? It’s not your fault! I can explain to him for you!” 

          Turais totally forgot about that duel as the confrontation with Nott in the common room dominated his memory.

          ‘Right, Dumbledore must be asking because of that instead.’

         “Well, I’m going to come with you, Turais,” Jane breathed fiercely as she started to pack up her stuff, “And we’ll get Connor as well!”

         “Look, Ms Stahl, the Headmaster only asked for -” Napier started to protest.

         “Turais is just going to have to take a detour,” Jane shot the older boy a sharp glance, “Won’t he?”

         Napier froze in shock as Jane grabbed Turais’s book bag and pushed him out of the library. After making a stop in the corridor near the Fat Lady’s portrait (Jane tried to keep the location of the Gryffindor common room a secret and walked the rest of the distance) and picking up a nervous-looking Connor Blake, they headed for their actual destination.

         “Good luck,” Napier said stiffly as he beckoned the trio forward, still bristling slightly from Jane’s attitude. Turais walked towards the gargoyle and it leaped aside as he approached. Surprisingly, the two Gryffindors were allowed access as well. They climbed up the stairs and he raised his Occlumency shields before entering the office with a knock. It opened silently and the trio found themselves looking into an empty room.

         “Headmaster?” Jane ventured a shout into the room as she walked first into the large, circular room. The echoes of her voice were soon drowned by the gentle whirring from a number of delicate, silver instruments that lined the room. 

         However, the golden perch that loomed magnificently over the writing desk in the centre of the room captured his attention. On it, a decrepit-looking bird in torpid, black feathers gagged apathetically. A few blackened tail feathers fell and drifted onto the tray below.

          ‘Fawkes. Today is its burning day.’

         “Oh no! The bird looks terribly ill!” Jane exclaimed as she ran up the stairs. “We have to do - aaaugh!

          Jane’s scream and Connor’s yell echoed around the room as the bird burst into a fireball. 

          “We need water! Um, do you know the Water-conjuring spell?!” Jane shouted at Turais, “Aqua - Agua -”

          The aflamed phoenix interrupted with a loud shriek as it disintegrated into a smouldering pile of ash.

          “Oh no... the Headmaster’s pet bird died…  We are going to be expelled,” Connor squeaked in mortification.

          The office door opened as Professor Dumbledore walked in as the trio were petrified in their spots.

          “Hello, Mr Black. Ah, I didn’t expect to see Ms Stahl and Mr Blake as well,” he said.

          “Headmaster, your pet bird… it caught on fire… we couldn’t find water…” Jane gasped as the Headmaster strolled over to the perch.

          “Don’t worry, Ms Stahl. Fawkes, here, is a phoenix,” Dumbledore said softly as he peered curiously at the tiny mountain of ash. “Phoenixes burst into flame in order to be reborn from the ashes - ah, look at this.”

          Jane and Connor looked at where Dumbledore was pointing to. There, a tiny, wrinkled head of a newborn bird emerged from the cooling ash. Dumbledore chuckled at the looks of fascination on the two Gryffindors’ faces as he seated himself behind his desk.

          “So, how may I help you, Ms Stahl and Mr Blake?”

          Jane snapped her attention back to the man with a confused expression. Quickly remembering her mission, she immediately stood upright and shouted quickly in Turais’s defense.

          “Sir, it is not Turais’s fault! I forced him to bring Connor and me to your office. About last Friday, he was trying to protect us! It’s not his -”

          “Ms Stahl -”

          “He shouldn’t be in trouble for what he did-”

          “Ms Stahl!” said Dumbledore loudly. “Thank you for telling me what happened. Don’t worry, Mr Black here is not in any trouble because of that. I merely wish to speak to him in private,” Dumbledore spoke. 

          “Oh…” Jane stuttered as she flushed in embarrassment for yelling at the Headmaster, “Well… I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to leave now.” She patted Connor’s shoulder, but Connor was still rooted on the spot rigidly.

          “Connor,” she hissed as the boy snapped out of his stasis.

          Dumbledore nodded at the fidgeting girl. Jane gave Turais a tiny nod as they passed him. After they closed the door, Turais turned back to face the Headmaster.

          “Now, Mr Black. As I just said to Ms Stahl, you are not in any trouble. In fact, I would like to commend you for your righteousness.”

          “Thank you, Headmaster,” Turais said stiffly, anticipating what was to come. 

          “However, I’m curious as to what happened after the duel,” Dumbledore said neutrally.

          Turais’s mind swirled in panic as his shields strengthened. ‘Does he know? That’s impossible...’

          “I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” Turais responded calmly, not betraying any of his inner turmoil in his curt words, “Nothing out of the ordinary occurred.”

          "I've detected a fair amount of destruction on one wall in the Slytherin common room, of course, it has been repaired quickly. But would you, Mr Black, be able to offer any insight as to what transpired?"

          "Perhaps a student decided to abuse school property to release his frustration? I'm afraid I cannot offer a better reason," Turais spoke the half-truth simply.

          Dumbledore stared at him for a short while. Then, he smiled and the tension deflated from the room.

          “Very well, Mr Black. Thank you for your time,” Dumbledore said warmly as he gestured Turais to leave. Turais bowed as he turned to leave the room, allowing himself a sigh of relief. Turais was just thinking about how he managed to slip out of the hot seat so easily when suddenly -

          “There's actually one more thing, Mr Black -”

          Turais tensed as his mental shields slammed back into place at once. Bracing himself, he turned to find Dumbledore looking at him solemnly. His once-cheerful disposition had all but disappeared once again.

          “ - What do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?”

          Turais blinked in surprise as Dumbledore looked on. Recovering quickly, he said, “It’s a legend, sir, and nothing more than that.”

          Dumbledore placed his long fingers together as he considered the boy in front of him. Turais immediately reinforced his Occlumency shields as he quickly focused his gaze at the Headmaster's lips and away from the eyes. He had some practice with basic Occlumency but it was likely not strong enough to repel a Legilimency attack from Dumbledore. However, the mental assault Turais was expecting never came. 

          “I must ask you, Mr Black, whether there is anything you’d like to tell me,” Dumbledore said gently. “Anything at all.”

          Under his scrutinizing gaze, Turais felt as though he was transported back to his second-year at Hogwarts as Harry Potter when an older version of Dumbledore asked him the exact same question. However, the circumstances had all but changed completely.

          “No,” said Turais firmly. “There isn’t anything, sir.” 

          Turais never planned on re-opening the Chamber, especially not when Dumbledore was on the lookout due to his Parseltongue abilities. But now, he knew he would not be able to even if he wanted to.

 

***

 

          Turais was heading down along the Slytherin house table with Alex and Steward to their usual spot for breakfast when Malfoy called out his name.

          "Turais," Malfoy said as Turais approached the middle of the long table, "Why don't you join us for breakfast today?"

          First, the continued usage of his first name was definitely a cause for concern. Second, there was a glaringly empty space beside Malfoy in the otherwise crowded middle section of the table that suggested Malfoy had planned to have breakfast with Turais.

          It was a common phenomenon that whenever Malfoy arrived in the Great Hall for a meal, he always sat in the center of the table surrounded by his closest allies. The other Slytherins, including children from both Malfoy's and Black's allied families, who were eager to rise up the hierarchy also gravitated towards the leaders. Turais never really cared for the rigidity of seating plans and merely chose the area furthest away from the crowds. 

          Turais needed to show that he was not below Malfoy's authority, but rather, his equal. Just like in social events, Turais needed to present himself as the alternative option, another choice of leadership, compared to Malfoy's rule. Therefore, as a show of authority, he could not possibly just follow Malfoy's command. However, it would not be wise for him to outright refuse his offer and stir up any potential rumours of discord initiated by him...

          "Thank you for the kind offer," Turais said diplomatically. "However, I have some urgent matters to attend to so I was just planning to take a batch of sandwiches and head off. I'm sure you will excuse me."

          Turais reached for a few sandwiches and smiled.

          Malfoy's lips pressed together at Turais's subtle rejection as the Slytherins eyed the pair nervously. The Black sisters were also silent as they observed as the events unfolded.

          After a short pause, Malfoy said smoothly, "Of course. Perhaps, next time then."

          "Good day to you all," Turais said as he walked out of the Great Hall with Alex and Steward following behind.

          After they were a safe distance away and on the school grounds, Alex ventured a question while Steward munched on his sandwich hungrily.

          "Why did you refuse Malfoy's invitation, Turais? That could be... problematic."

          "Well, I can't show the others that I will follow Malfoy's every word," Turais said breezily. "I need to show them that the Black heir is his equal, if not his superior. But most importantly, I'm not ready to act all chummy with him, despite whatever deal my grandfather has struck with his father in the Wizengamot."

          "He might take revenge for the snub though," Alex said softly as he continued to look down at his sandwich and turning it in his hands.

          "He wouldn't. He is too self-preserving to retaliate against me just because I refused to dine with him," Turais said. "And he, just like me, has his family’s political standing in the Wizengamot to worry about. I doubt his father would be too pleased if he catches whispers of any discord between the two heirs."

          "Hey Fawley, can I have your sandwich if you're not going to eat it? I'm starving!" Steward piped up as Alex handed him his sandwich without looking away from Turais.

          "And you don't worry about your own grandfather?" Alex asked as Steward munched on. "Associating with me... and with Jane..."

          "First of all, stop referring to yourself as though you are any different from anyone else," Turais berated Alex mildly. "I don't care about your blood status and you are as magical as the rest of us, if not more considering your magical prowess."

          Alex's cheek turned rosy, but it was the truth. If Turais was not born, Alex would easily be the top student of their year. The mere fact that Alex was able to keep up with Turais's pace in classes when Turais had already learnt all the material showed how talented a wizard he was. Turais could not stand that Alex continued to undermine his own hard work and maintain his sense of self-deprecation.

          "Also, my family is mostly aligned with the Grey families and not the staunchest blood-purist families that allied with the Malfoys, so as long as I am in good standing with everyone in society and do not stir up any controversies, they could care less," Turais explained. "As for Malfoy and their allies, they can silently fume behind closed doors all they want, but they can't openly disparage me. Not in this current political climate."

          "I suppose..." Alex said. But Turais saw his worried frown deepen.

          "It's going to be fine, Alex," Turais said and Alex nodded in reluctant acknowledgement.

 

***

 

          With everything else that had been happening, Turais was surprised that it was already mid-November and, most importantly, the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match.

          "GRYFFINDOR: FOUR HUNDRED AND TEN; SLYTHERIN: ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY! The seventh consecutive loss by the Slytherins under the hands of the mighty Gryffindors!"

          Turais groaned with his fellow Slytherins as the final score was called. It was a bit disconcerting to be watching Quidditch from the Slytherin stands. But what was more disconcerting was the fact that Turais was not playing with his house team. In general, Turais thought the Slytherin team played terribly and that half the players should not ever qualify for the team in any capacity, let alone be in the starting line-up. If it weren't for one of the Gryffindor Chasers being forced out of action due to an ill-timed bubotuber pus squirt in the eye last week, Turais had no doubt that the Slytherins would have fared even worse. The only bright spot was the sole female player on the team, Natalia Arkenstone, who single-handedly scored ten of the fourteen goals. It was impressive in her own right, but contrasted by the abysmal act from the rest of the team, she really stood out... which was why Turais was surprised to find some Slytherins bashing her for her performance later that day.

          "Arkenstone is such an attention-seeker," Nott sneered as she walked past his group in the common room. Arkenstone ignored his words and continued on her way to her dormitory.

          The Slytherin team captain and seventh-year, Steve Laughalot, strolled in with a dark scowl from the loss as Nott walked over to intercept him. "Laughalot, your Chasers are clearly not up to scratch. Why don't you put me on the team instead of the useless Arkenstone?"

          "Look, Nott. We just finished the match. Can we talk about this later?" Laughalot said.

          "My father said he would sponsor the team if I get on the team -"

          "We will definitely have a talk later," Laughalot said with a slight edge in his tone. "We need to change and debrief right now."

          The Slytherin captain walked away with an even deeper frown while Nott grinned with a predatory glint.

 

***

 

           “Another perfect potion, Turais,” Professor Slughorn beamed at Turais.

           Turais returned a smile as he bit down an internal groan at the supercilious praise. One thing that he discovered recently was that Potions was very interesting. And so, he started to willingly read up on various Potion literature at his leisure, which also helped him become an even greater potioneer. What wonders it made when one’s Potions teacher was not Severus Snape. Snape might ultimately be a good man, but he was definitely a terrible teacher who should not have made a career being a professor.

           "Ah, yes, I keep forgetting to give you your invitation, this old brain of mine,” Professor Slughorn procured a black envelope with golden letters on the front that spelled “The Slug Club Christmas Party.”

           “Oh, thank you, Professor. I’ll be sure to attend,” Turais smiled gratefully at Professor Slughorn while grimacing internally.

           "Ooo... what is this for?" Gerald asked once Slughorn moved on to another table. Peeking at the envelope, he said, "Is this for the actual Christmas Party that Slughorn hosts every year? I heard it is extremely difficult to score an invitation!"

           "I suppose," Turais mumbled and quickly hid the envelope as he started to feel the wandering eyes focusing on him.

           "So, Pierricoeur was invited to the Christmas Party as well," Steward supplied as they were walking back to the common room after class. 

           "Are you invited as well?" Turais asked.

           “No,” Steward said, slightly crestfallen. 

           “Then how do you know all this?”

           Steward gave an enigmatic smile before pursing his lips and making a cross with his fingers. Then, he continued, “But it’s not a surprise, really, given his family name. But he’s a muggleborn! I'm sure that's a first for Slughorn." 

           "But both his parents are magical, Steward," Turais said.

           Steward scrunched up his face in confusion. "Well... that's true... Emmanuel and Claudette Pierricoeur are both muggleborns, so he's technically a half-blood? - no, that's not right - muggleborn? - uh... quarter-blood? Gah - I don't know!" He threw up his arms in exasperation. "I've never really considered two muggleborns marrying and having children."

           "Or maybe it doesn't matter? Muggleborn or not, he's a bright student -" Steward made a strangling noise. "- He is, Steward. Give credit where credit’s due. But he's also an arse. They are not mutually exclusive."

           Steward looked at Turais incredulously. "Mate, we can't have a Mug - quarter - whatever he is - upstaging all the purebloods. Especially not that grouch. That would be shameful!"

           "Well, Alex is a half-blood and he is also one of the best students in our year," Turais pointed out. He felt Alex tense up at the sudden mention of his name. The boy was unusually subdued today and for the past few days as though something weighed heavily on his mind. Turais wondered if he was being rude by bringing attention to his friend.

           Steward hesitated as he considered the silent boy.

           "Well... he's... he's... Fawley!" Steward exclaimed as though that explained everything, "You know, he's Fawley. Of course, he's clever. Everyone knows that." 

           "But he's still a half-blood," Turais challenged.

           Steward looked mightily uncomfortable. "Well... I guess... the Fawley blood runs strong."

           "Right..." Turais said nonchalantly. "I'm sure Alex, himself, has nothing to do with his merits. It's all because of his blood, not because of his hard work and spending hours revising his studies."

           Steward fell silent for the remainder of the walk and Turais did not press any further.

           After Steward walked through the doorway to the Slytherin common room, Turais felt a hand on his arm as Alex stopped him from following. Turais let the door swing shut before talking to his friend.

           "I'm sorry -"

           "Thank you -"

           Both boys said at the same time. Eyeing each other, Turais started again, "I'm sorry for putting you on the spot, Alex. But I want Steward to understand you are not just your blood. You are so much more than that."

           Alex sucked in a deep breath before releasing it with a long shudder. "It's alright. I know you're trying to help. Turais, you… you always stand up for me. You’re… my… you’re my...”

           Alex’s ears glowed red as he looked away hastily and muttered, “Nevermind...”

           With that, he sprinted off to where Steward disappeared, leaving Turais utterly confused.

           Later that day, Turais notified Orion of the invitation to the Christmas Party and requested for dress robes. On the next Sunday morning when he was enjoying a late breakfast, a brown, barn owl flew up and dropped a large package onto Turais’s lap. He quickly identified the familiar symbol of Twilfitt and Tattings on the parcel. 

          “Woah! The green really brings out your eyes. And you look absolutely like the Black heir that you’re supposed to be,” Steward quipped when Turais tried on the dress robe with proper grooming. The dress robe was a dazzling mix of green and black with intricate patterns of the family and Slytherin crests lining the hems, and it fit Turais perfectly.

          “What’s that supposed to mean, Steward?” Turais asked, annoyed.

          “Well, let’s just say your school robes are always crumpled and stained with either pumpkin juice or potion burns,” Steward replied with a shrug. “Your tie is almost always crooked.”

          “And your hair is always messy. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you went through a storm on a broom every morning,” Alex added as he gave Steward a secret thumbs-up.

          “It’s not that bad!” Turais scoffed as he eyed his hair in the mirror. There were a few stray strands here and there but it was largely combed neatly in shape. Of course, it wasn’t as perfect as Steward’s flawlessly-styled hair that was strenuously put together every morning, but Turais thought it was passable. He then looked over his robes and found small burnt holes along one sleeve and two patches of what was clearly spilt pumpkin juice on the other. He burnt in shame.

          Steward snickered at the comment and Turais shot him an annoyed look.

         Despite not having the legendary Potter hair, Turais never got into the routine to properly maintain his hair as Turais Black. His father had given up trying to convince him, so he had gotten away with his relatively messy hair except when he was due for an appearance at the Ministry functions or balls.

          “Well, my father never took issue with my hair -”

          “Your father is a very kind man,” Steward retorted, “You need to look your part as the Black heir and not a vagabond that was lifted right from Knockturn Alley.”

          Turais was not amused and he sent a Tickling Hex at Steward to show his disapproval. 

          “Stop… haha… Black… haha… stop… please!” Steward barked out as he squirmed and rolled around on his bed like a tumbleweed in the desert.

          Turais cancelled the spell and sniffed, feeling a bit miffed by both his friends.

          “I’m starting to think Jane has a point in thinking you are annoying,” Turais huffed.

          “Ouch - low blow,” Steward replied casually.

          “What is Knockturn Alley?” Alex asked.

          “How do you not know Knockturn Alley?” Steward asked incredulously. “It is next to Diagon Alley where all the worst criminals and dark wizards prowl!”

          “And also a dangerous place that you should never venture into,” Turais confirmed darkly.

          Alex nodded, looking sufficiently put off by the unsavoury description of the place.

          “Never go there, got it.”

          “So, are you really not inviting anyone to the ball?” Steward asked, bringing the topic back to the upcoming Ball.

          “Uhm, I don’t think so. I don’t even want to go so I won’t put anyone else through it, not even my worst enemy,” Turais grimaced at the thought of spending a night being waltzed around and introduced to various “important” people.

         “Not even Nott?” Alex asked.

         Turais wrinkled his nose in thought. “On second thought, I will amend it to third worst enemy.” He mentally counted Bellatrix as his second worst enemy and Voldemort as his first. 

         “But aren’t you close to Smith and… Stahl?” Steward asked hesitantly.

         “We are close, but I don’t think either of them will be comfortable there. From what I’ve gathered, it is almost entirely composed of Slytherins and the odd Ravenclaws - Wait... Steward, didn't you want to score an invitation? Why don't you come with me?”

         “Really?” Steward perked up with interest. 

         “Of course, why not?” Turais said.

         “Thanks!” Steward smiled. “I appreciate it a lot! My father is going to hear all about this!”

         Turais eyed the boy's enthusiasm and quipped, “You know you could've just asked, right?”

         Steward flushed shyly. “I... I... didn't want to seem... like I was... cozying up to you and angling for an invitation. I... I actually quite enjoy you two's company, sincerely.”

         “Oh, Steward...” Turais said. “You overthought this entire thing, but I do appreciate your sentiment. I enjoy having you as a friend, and I'm sure Alex does to.”

         “You're not too bad,” Alex teased as he gave Steward a light slap on the shoulder.

         “Lump it, Fawley,” Steward scowled before his lips twisted into a grin.

 

***

 

          Finally, the night of the Ball arrived. At five minutes before nine, Turais and Steward stood in front of the room in anticipation.

          “Ooo... this is going to be great!” Steward thrummed in excitement as he tugged down on his robes while Turais grimaced silently. Winking at Turais, he patted on the robe over his chest and whispered conspiratorially, “My father told me to buy some crystallized pineapples as a gift. It's supposedly his favourite sweet.”

          “It is,” Turais said. “But Slughorn didn't ask us to bring anything, did he?”

          “You can get away with not bringing anything because Slughorn adores you,” Steward said blandly. “But for me, this... this is my ticket to a great first impression and future party invitations.”

          “I will never understand why you all fall over yourselves grovelling at his feet,” Turais sighed as he shook his head. Breathing in deeply, he raised his hand to knock when the door opened and filled the corridor with light.

          “Turais, m’boy! I was just wondering where you were.” Professor Slughorn ushered Turais into the room. With noticeably less excitement, the Professor glanced at Turais's companion and said, “And you as well... Mr...”

          “Steward. I am immensely honoured to attend this Party,” Steward said with a polite bow. “I did bring something as a gift -”

          “Yes, yes...” Slughorn said distractedly as he glanced around the room. “Well, Turais and I have a lot of ground to cover, so feel free to put it alongside the rest of the gifts and wander -”

          Slughorn paused as he eyed the small, ornate crystal box containing small, rectangular pieces of orange candies that Steward pulled out from his inner robe pocket.

          “Crystallized pineapples,” Slughorn beamed as he took the box. “From Bolandi's, no less. Now, tell me, Mr... Steward, is it? How did you know this is my favourite treat?”

          “Oh, my father, Lord Steward, reminded me to bring you this when I told him I was to attend this party,” Steward said. “He, of course, knew the sweets preference of his favourite Professor.”

          Slughorn chuckled warmly and said, “Ah... I do remember your father now. He was a... a... a decent student. Well, do make yourself at home, Mr Steward. In fact, I think there might be a few people that I should introduce you to. What did you say your interests were again?”

          Steward immediately dove into an animated conversation with Slughorn as they squeezed through the crowds. Turais took the opportunity to study the elegant turquoise fabric canopy that arched away from the ceiling and the complimenting grey moonstone cocktail tables below. In the centre of each table was a narrow vase filled with water lilies of different shades of red, orange, and yellow. 

          “So... where were we?” Slughorn asked as Turais felt an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Apparently they had already deposited Steward with a pair of entrepeneurs. “Ah... yes. This is Yvette Aynha, daughter of the owner of Mina Meadery of Aynha. Yvette, this is Turais Black, the eldest grandson of Lord Black.”

          “Pleasure to meet you again, Turais,” she said warmly. Slughorn looked a bit surprised at the familiarity.

          “You as well, Yvette,” Turais stepped up to shake her hand.

          “I have yet to receive an order from your father for the Bungbarrel Spiced Mead. I did not succeed in converting him with it, did I?”

          Turais grinned, “Unfortunately not. But my father said if he ever were to acquire a taste for mead, the Bungbarrel would be his first choice.”

          Yvette laughed softly. “I’ll await for the day I receive his owl order then.”

          Eager to show off his relevance, Slughorn steered the conversation to another man.

          “And here, m'boy, is Connor Hamilton - famous American astrologist.”

          “We meet again, Turais,” the man shook his hand jovially. Slughorn looked a bit crestfallen at this point. “Considering a career in Astrology yet?”

          “Not remotely,” Turais said.

          Perhaps unbeknownst to Slughorn, Turais had met many of them this year at various Ministry functions prior to starting at Hogwarts. Therefore, Slughorn was destined to be disappointed in his prized match-making ability.

          “Ah, I would bet a Galleon that you have not met this fine gentleman before,” Slughorn challenged mildly as he guided Turais to a pair of gentlemen standing at a nearby table. “Tiberius, there you are! And also you, Harold! I have someone I would like you to meet. This handsome boy here is Master Turais Black, grandson of Lord Black. Turais, this is Harold Minchum, who was just elected to represent West Country in the Wizengamot. And this is Tiberius McLaggen, brilliant Ravenclaw in his final year at Hogwarts.”

          The younger man had clean-cut blonde hair and a charming, photogenic smile. However, Turais's eyes were immediately drawn to the outrageous sparkling, green robes and the clashing orange dress shirt peeking beneath it. It was an outrageously distinctive look that stood out amongst the rest of the occupants in the room. Turais wondered how he missed the man's outfit for the entire time. He must have been less observant than he thought.

          The other man looked like he was around Orion's age. He had large, round spectacles with hair that was just slightly tousled as if he tried to comb it at the last minute. The brown, plaid suit on him paled in comparison to his companion's robes. However, it was also poorly-fitted as Turais noticed the sags around the shoulders while the fabric was pulled taut around the button.

          “Pleasure to meet you both, Mr McLaggen, Mr Minchum,” Turais said politely. “Also, congratulations on your election.”

          Minchum smiled faintly as he said, “Thank you, Mr Black -”

          Turais was suddenly pulled towards McLaggen as the younger boy said, “Smile.”

          Before Turais could even react, there was a bright flash of white light, a loud click, and a poof of black smoke from the nearby camera.

          “Wonderful!” McLaggen said as he smiled brilliantly. “I just love meeting new people and making new friends. Professor Slughorn's party always excels on these metrics.”

          “I am glad to hear that, Tiberius,” Slughorn said. “Friends are one of the few things in life you cannot have too many of, especially in the Ministry.”

          “Indeed, Professor,” McLaggen laughed as he clasped a hand on his companion's shoulder. “Mr Minchum is a family friend and we are most excited for him to join us in the Wizengamot.”

          “I'm sure you are...” Slughorn said. He pressed his voice down and whispered to McLaggen, “I heard your family made quite an investment in his campaign, is that true?”

          “It's worth every last Knut, I assure you,” McLaggen replied breezily.

          Turais continued to nod along the conversation as his urge to leave the party heightened with each passing minute. Finally, he found a window of opportunity to escape into a hidden alcove that was akin to an underwater oriel window. Looking out, Turais could see the schools of fish swimming past him as a Grindylow lurked in the shadows of a rock nearby.

          “I just wanted to check on you. It seemed that you were not enjoying yourself back there,” a voice called out from behind. Turais turned to see Minchum joining him by the window with a flute of champagne in his hand.

          “What gave it away?”

          Turais directed an unwarranted dose of facetiousness at the newcomer before sipping on his Gillywater.

          Minchum huffed in amusement. Then, he whispered consolingly, “Tiberius... he is a bit of overbearing at times.”

          Turais glanced at the other man and quirked a brow, “Oh... I thought you two were quite friendly.”

          Minchum grimaced. “Well, we... or I should say, his family and I have a bit of history. His uncle, Lord McLaggen, was a mentor of mine. He, not Tiberius, was the one who encouraged me to run for office and also helped me with my election campaign.”

          “Ah... so you have to play nice with him then,” Turais nodded understandingly. 

          “You can say that,” Minchum said as he sipped his drink.

          “Well, you are welcome to stay here for how ever long you want.”

          “How kind of you,” Minchum quipped teasingly as Turais shrugged. 

          “As long as you know that befriending me will not gain you my grandfather's favour.”

          “I was not planning to.”

          Turais gave Minchum a once-off and said sarcastically, “Sure.”

          “It seems you have a low opinion of me.”

          “It's nothing personal, I assume you,” Turais said airily. “I dislike politicians in general, and it is the popular stance to take at the moment.”

          “Shall I prove you, and the world, wrong?”

          Turais blinked as he gave Minchum a second glance. On the other man's face was a confident and challenging smirk.

          “Then I shall welcome that day with open arms,” Turais chuckled as he tipped his glass towards the other man.

 

***

 

          “That Party was awesome!” Steward exclaimed excitedly as he twirled on his toes with his arms high in the air. “The food, the ambience... and the guests, Turais! Did you meet Yvette Aynha? She's the heir of the Mina Meadery! She even brought a bottle of the 1957 vintage gold-label Bungbarrel Spiced Mead that would easily fetch five hundred Galleons on the market! Oh, how I wished I could take a sip of that...”

          Turais grimaced as Steward continued to lavish praises on a party that completely drained him of energy. 

          “... and we get to roam the castle after curfew!” Steward said, “Most importantly, with permission!”

          “I'm glad you enjoyed it,” Turais spoke finally.

          Steward swung an arm over Turais's shoulder and grinned playfully, “All thanks to you.”

          “It's nothing,” Turais said with a careless shrug.

          “It's... it's not nothing...” Steward said quiety as he retracted his hand and examined them. “I... I... am really, really grateful... Thank you...”

          Turais was surprised at the sobriety in his companion's tone as it was the first time Steward had responded to his words with anything but a waggish riposte.

          Steward's throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily before continuing, “Not many people... would have done what you've done for me...”

          “It would've been a wasted spot if I didn't bring you along,” Turais argued, but Steward merely smiled and shook his head minutely.

          “You still don't understand, do you? Flint, Rivers, and the rest of the lot... they would've rather invited a muggleborn along before they invited me, or each other,” Steward said. “No. They would've shredded the invitation and not come to the party before letting anyone attend the party with them.”

          “That's... that's...” Turais wanted to rebut Steward but found him unable to do so.

          “That's what? Did you want to say it's not true? Because it is truer than truth itself,” Steward chuckled deprecatingly. “And I don't blame them. Because I would've done the same. Benefit no one even if it means harming yourself... that's what my parents always taught me. And that's also why I never expected you to offer me the chance so thoughtlessly. Only you... Black... only you would. And perhaps, Fawley, I suppose...”

          “You think that I am foolish then?”

          “I do,” Steward muttered softly. “You do not gain anything letting me come with you.”

          “Why are you telling me this now?”

          “Well, I had to wait until after the party when I secured a future party invitation from Slughorn,” Steward said with a roll of his eyes. “I'm not stupid.”

          “That's not what I mean,” Turais reached his hand out to stop Steward before they turned into the corridor of the Slytherin common room. “You are telling me that I am foolish instead of exploiting me further. Why?”

          Steward quirked a mischievous grin and commented, “Finally asking the important questions, huh?”

          But at Turais's imploring stare, Steward's grin faltered as he averted his eyes.

          Muttering softly, he said, “I... I don't know.”

          “I think you do know,” breathed Turais, confirming his suspicion.

          “You are an odd sort, Black,” Steward said forcefully, avoiding the question. “You don't belong here in this house.”

          “But a part of you is glad that I am here.”

          Instead of another retort, Steward sighed heavily and he whispered, “I... I do. And I reckon many feel the same way, despite not voicing their thoughts.”

          Turais smiled.

          “Well, I am glad to hear that then. Thank you, Steward -”

          “It's Jonty,” Steward interrupted as he met Turais's gaze for the first time since leaving the party. Reaching a hand out, he said, “Call me Jonty.”

          “Well, thank you,” Turais smiled as he took the hand and shook it. “Jonty.

Chapter 13: A Very Grimmauld Christmas (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A VERY GRIMMAULD CHRISTMAS


 

         With Christmas holiday fast approaching, Professor Slughorn dropped by the Slytherin common room to post the sign-up sheet for students who would be staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday.

         Turais was grateful that he did not need to spare a thought on signing up this time because he had a home to return to. However, he caught Alex’s hesitant gaze upon the sheet every time they walked past it.

          “Alex, are you not planning to go home this Christmas?” Turais finally asked one day when the curiosity overcame his inhibitions.

          Startled, Alex asked, “W…what makes you think that?”

          “You keep glancing at the sign-up sheet.”

          “Oh,” Alex whispered. “Well… you see, I can return to the House, but I think I'd rather stay here.”

          Turais could relate to the feeling. As Harry Potter, it would have elicited both physical and emotion pain if he was forced to go to back to Privet Drive over Christmas and Easter holidays.

          Then, a brilliant idea came into Turais’s mind. Patting Alex’s arm excitedly, he said, “I can ask my father to let you stay with us for Christmas!”

          “Really?!” Alex gasped. But then, he quickly slumped back into his seat dejectedly, “I don’t think your father would want someone like me in your house.”

          “Nonsense,” Turais scoffed. He immediately pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and started writing a letter. “I’m sure my father will let a good friend of mine stay over Christmas. We have plenty of spare rooms to fill anyway.”

          Seeing Alex's lack of movement, Turais prompted, “You better write to get permission from your father now.”

          Reluctantly, Alex did as told.

          Turais received permission from Orion two days later. On the same day, Alex also received a message that simply stated, “Fine. - Mr Fawley.

          Alex looked undisturbed by the lack of anything in that message, but Turais was furious on his behalf. 

          “That is so uncalled for, Alex! Your father could have written more than three words, with two of them being his name,” Turais argued.

          Alex just shrugged. “At least he responded.”

          Turais’s scowl deepened.

          “Turais,” Alex said as he looked down at the mostly blank piece of parchment. "I know you mean well. But p...please just give it a rest."

          “But everyone deserves to celebrate Christmas in happiness!” Turais said angrily.

          “I will be,” Alex said softly. Turais gulped as he met his friend’s sincere gaze. Alex looked as though he thought Turais’s actions meant the entire world to him.

          “It’s nothing,” Turais said weakly. “Don’t worry about it.”

          In the blink of an eye, it was the last day of school before Christmas holiday. After their last class of the day, Turais and Alex hurried back to their room to pack away their belongings before heading back up to the school courtyard to place their trunks amongst the pile that would be transported to Hogsmeade station separately. 

          They chatted animatedly with their fellow classmates while waiting for the carriages to carry them across the frozen Black Lake to board the Hogwarts Express back to London.

          As the snowy white scenery of trees and villages were slowly replaced by concrete buildings and pavements, Alex and Turais bounced excitedly in their seats. Alice, Jane, Jonty, and Gerald, who had the misfortune of sharing their compartment, glared at their figures with annoyance.

          “Turais! Alex! Can you stop bouncing for one minute?” Jane snapped for the fifth time. “I’m getting carsick from watching you two move!”

          “What’s carsick?” Multiple voices asked.

          “Oh, you purebloods,” Jane shut her book and started to explain what a car was but Turais tuned her out and looked at the passing buildings. He was going to see Sirius, Regulus, and Orion for the first time in three months. Although he communicated with them through mail as frequently as his owl could make the journey, it was vastly different from seeing them in person. How could he not be excited?

          He felt something hard smacked against his skull. “Turais! You are evicted from this compartment!” Jane shrieked as she grabbed for his robes.

          “Unhand me, you crazy Gryffindor!” Turais shouted as the rest of the compartment laughed. 

          Once Jane released him, he straightened his robes as he scoffed snobbishly. “Propriety, young lady. Especially in the presence of the dignified Master Turais Black of the House of -”

          “Yeah, you lost me when I laid eyes on the bird-nest on your head you call hair, Master Turais.” Jane gave him her unimpressed look. Turais scowled in a clearly undignified manner. His hair was fine , thank you very much. The rest of the compartment laughed again.

          “So, what are you doing in the French Alps?” Turais asked.

          “Skiing,” Jane said and saw the befuddled looks on her friends’ faces. “Oh right. I reckon I need to explain what skis are. So when we ski, we are basically standing on two long thin pieces of wood down a snowy slope...”

          By the time Jane started to explain the intricacies of how one executed a stop, the train signaled its arrival at the station. Through the window, Turais saw several house elves standing on the platform, awaiting for their young masters to appear. There was also the view of joyous families huddling together, reunited for the holiday festivities to come.

          And Turais knew that somewhere in that crowd, his family was waiting for him.

          “Hey Turais,” Alex shook Turais out of his thoughts. “What are you looking at?”

          “Nothing in particular,” Turais said softly as he managed to pull himself together. “Let’s head off.”

          They exchanged quick goodbyes with their classmates and then hopped onto the platform. Walking through the rolling clouds of steam, Turais searched for recognizable figures when -

          "Turais!"

          Turais's eyes snatched wide open as he zeroed in on two figures jumping ecstatically afar. 

          “Siri! Reggie!” Turais shouted in delight as two smaller bodies slammed into him and hugged him tightly.

          “Turais!” His two brother screamed into his ears.

          “I missed you two so much you won’t believe it,” Turais said as he buried his nose into their robes and inhaled the familiar scents.

          “Us too,” Regulus said.

          “Too quiet without you,” Sirius seconded, his voice muffled in his robes.

          “Turais.” Turais looked up and saw his father smiling at him. “Sirius, Regulus. Your father needs a turn too.”

          Sirius and Regulus sluggishly released Turais from their grasps as Orion communicated his intense longing for his son's return through a wordless, bone-crushing hug.

          After a few seconds, Turais suddenly remembered Alex’s presence and his abandoned luggage. Turais released his father and turned around to introduce his school companion, “Father, this is Alexander Fawley, my friend in Slytherin. Alex, this is my family, Master Black, Sirius, and Regulus.”

          “Nice to meet you, Master Black. And please call me Alex,” Alex spoke quietly, eyeing Turais nervously.

          “Nice to meet you too, Alex. Please call me Mr Black. Turais has already written to me about your planned stay,” Orion said kindly as he eyed the two school trunks behind them. “So, do you have everything with you?”

          “Yes,” Alex responded quickly. With a quieter voice, he said, “Thank you for letting me stay, Mr Black.”

          “There’s no trouble at all. Especially when you are a good friend of Turais. Merlin knows that I could use some help to keep an eye out for these two delinquents. They are giving me too much trouble without Turais there to keep them in line. Especially Sirius.” Orion glared at the silently play-fighting boys, who stopped when they felt their father’s stare. “Stop fighting and let’s head home.”

          Instead of leaving through the barrier that connected Platform 9¾ to the Muggle train station of King's Cross, they walked to one end of platform next to the train engine. Along the brick wall was a series of fireplaces with families lining in front of them. Columns of yellow and green fires erupted within each fireplace as wizards and witches departed through the Floo network to their destinations.

          As they queued up in front of one of fireplaces, Turais felt a tug on his robe. Looking beside him, he saw Alex staring at the fireplaces with hesitation in his eyes.

          “Uh... What are we doing?”

          “Going home through the Floo,” Turais said.

          “By Floo, you... you mean that?” Alex asked as he pointed at a woman in the fireplace next to them. She took a handful of powder from the pot nearby and threw it onto the gently burning logs. The fire immediately flashed in a brilliant green colour as she climbed into the fireplace with a broomstick in her hand. She shouted her destination - Diagon Alley - clearly and Alex gasped as the energetic green flames engulfed her entire body. But not a second later, the flames died down and turned back to a gentle flickering of yellow and red while the woman was nowhere to be seen. 

          “You never travelled through the Floo before?” Turais asked, and he received a timid nod as a reply. Looking at the fireplaces, Turais saw they were noticeably wider than the ordinary fireplaces to accommodate large belongings and Side-Along Floo-ing. 

          “It's alright. We should be able to fit in the fireplace together and share the same Floo travel,” Turais comforted. Turning to Orion, he asked, “Father, do you mind transporting our trunks for us? Alex is a tad nervous with travelling by Floo so I think I will go with him.”

          “I can help!” Sirius shouted as he raised his hand and jumped enthusiastically.

          “Alright,” Orion agreed as he patted Sirius's head. “Why don't you take your brother's trunk then?”

          “Woohoo!” Sirius shouted.

          When the Black family reached the front of the line, Orion announced, “Turais, Alex. Why don’t two you head through the Floo first?”

          Turais grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and released it over the fireplace. Then, he stepped into the knee-height flames and gestured Alex to follow.

          “It's alright, the flames aren't hot,” Turais said. Alex gulped and closed his eyes as he took a brave step into the flame. When he opened his eyes, a gasp of surprise escaped his lips as he glanced at the green flames circling around him.

          “You are doing great,” Turais smiled. Linking theirs arms together, Turais said, “So, keep your eyes closed and your elbows in. Alright?”

          Once Turais made sure that Alex had done as told, he shouted “12 Grimmauld Place” as clearly as he could into the wall of fire before closing his eyes tightly. Then, he immediately felt himself spinning until his shoulder slammed into a brick wall as the two boys tumbled onto the cold, hard stone floor of the kitchen.

          “Oomphf! ” Alex gasped as Turais fell on top of him.

          “Sorry,” Turais groaned out apologetically. He quickly rolled off Alex and onto the floor. Looking up, Turais suddenly realized he was staring directly into a pair of large, ink-black eyes.

          “Kreacher is glad to welcome Master Turais home,” the house elf croaked sincerely as he helped the boy up. 

          “Thank you, Kreacher. It is very nice to see you as well,” Turais said. Patting down his robes, he said, “And this is my friend, Alexander Fawley.”

          “Kreacher is delighted to serve Master Turais's friend,” Kreacher bowed deeply.

          Then, there was a loud delighted shout as Sirius leapt out of the Floo and threw down Turais’s trunk carelessly with a loud thud.

          “Watch it, Siri!” Turais protested.

          “Sorry,” Sirius winced. Then, he noticed that Alex was still lying on the floor. Turning to his older brother, Sirius sighed mockingly, “Turais, you fell. Didn't you?”

          “No!”

          “Yes…?”

          Turais and Alex spoke at the same time, and Sirius’s grin grew wider.

          “Someone's lying...” Sirius said in a sing-song voice as Regulus and Orion appeared in rapid succession and standing on both feet. “Father, Turais tripped on his way out of the fireplace again.” 

          “My dear son, when will you finally learn to Floo properly?” Orion sighed with a fond shake of his head.

          “Probably never...” Turais muttered as his cheeks burnt in shame.

          “Well, go clean yourself up. I'll show Alex his room.”

          Turais quickly changed into a new set of robes and found Alex settling into one of the guestrooms on the third floor.

          “Is everything up to par?” Turais asked. He looked around the large, comfortable room with a four-poster bed and wardrobe against the far wall. Closer to Turais and by the door was a lounge set furniture with two armchairs that could allow six people to sit comfortably. There was also a writing desk facing one of two opened windows that overlooked the terrace behind the house on the ground floor. 

          “It's... spacious...” Alex said with uncertainty in his voice.

          “You make it sound like it's a bad thing.”

          “I... I just have no use for such a large room...”

          “This is the smallest guestroom we have, and it has the best view,” Turais said. Alex's jaw dropped comedically and Turais chuckled. “Come on, let me give you a house tour.”

          “So this door leads to the kitchen where we arrived. The basement is also where the still room, stores, and wine cellar are. Kreacher cooks and manages the stocks so we rarely set foot in there,” Turais said as he pointed at the back end of the entry hallway. Turning to face the front door, he continued, “Next to the front entrance we have the library, study, tapestry room, and dining room.”

          Turais opened the door to the dining room and revealed a spacious, elegant room with large canvas hung on the walls. Under a large crystal chandelier, there was a long, dining table with a polished ornate silver candelabra and two floral arrangements placed along the centre of it. The opposite wall was lined with tall, arched windows that allowed copious amount of sunlight to shine through the diaphanous cream-coloured curtains. In the corner of the room was a door that led to the terrace that could be seen through the windows. The small space offered some greenery and room for light to enter. It was a small but much-needed reprieve from the dull, grey structures that surrounded it.

          “The dining table here is directly above the table in the kitchen,” Turais said. “So, if we invite guests over for dinner, Kreacher will prepare the food in basement and place it on the kitchen table. The food will then be transported up to this table.”

          “That's amazing,” Alex gasped. Turais then brought his friend up the stairs to the second floor.

          “We have two sitting rooms on this floor, one on either end of this corridor. They are also linked by an antechamber behind this wall,” Turais explained as he patted on the wall beside him. “We usually only use the main one. However, when we are hosting events such as the family Christmas Party, both rooms will be used.”

          “On the third floor, we have the guestrooms, the family suite where my father lives, and the bathrooms,” Turais said. 

          “Do you need to walk down here to use the bathroom every day?” asked Alex.

          “There are bathrooms on every floor except for the basement and the second floor. So, unless both Sirius and Regulus takes a long bath at the same time, these two bathrooms will only be used by you and my father.”

          “The fourth floor here is where my brothers and I live,” Turais said as they entered his bedroom. “My room faces the front of the house, so I get a nice view of the park across the street. Sirius lives in the room next to me and Regulus's room is down in the far end of this hallway. So, if you ever need anything, you can always come up here to find us.”

          “Isn't there another floor?” Alex asked curiously as he eyed the locked door that seemingly led to another set of stairs upwards.

          “The fifth floor is where my grandparents live,” Turais confirmed. “They have their own sitting room, dining room, and even the Floo, so they rarely come down here unless it is a special occasion. Chances are that you will not see them down here except for the day of the Christmas Party.”

          Alex nodded as they returned to the ground floor.

          “You haven't shown me the tapestry room yet,” Alex commented. 

          “Oh... yeah...” Turais grimaced slightly as he walked over to the door and placed a hand on the doorknob. Young Turais did not set foot in this room since Orion showed it to him for the first time, and it seemed that he had also inherited the dislike of the room. Turais closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Steeling his resolve, he swung the door open to find the same room in his haunted memories.

          However, he had a less visceral reaction compared to the last time he was here.

          “What is happening here?” Alex asked enthusiastically, clearly not sharing Turais’s opinion of this room, as he examined a nearby tapestry that showed ancient wizards blasting curses against sword-wielding knights and banner-men. Far in the background atop a large, green mound was a medieval castle with a flag that showed the Black family sigil in green and gold. Above the battlefield, black birds filled the skies like a dense storm cloud.

          “It’s the Battle of Raafenhyll in the 12th century,” Turais explained as memories from reading the family annals roared back into his mind. “Those were the days before Muggle-Repelling wards were invented and many wizards had to live in secrecy. However, the founders of our House decided that they would never hide their powers again. Therefore, they decided that they would repel the Muggles not with a ward, but with violence.

          “This shows the final and decisive battle between our first ancestors and the local Muggle armies. It was said that upon the death of the last Muggle soldier, thousands upon thousands of ravens circled the skies singing the songs of their heroic bravery. They were so numerous that their wings blocked out the sun and turned the skies as black as night,” Turais narrated. “That is why our family name is Black, and also why we have ravens on our family coat-of-arms.”

          “Woah…” Alex breathed out in awe.

          “That is likely the reason why Ravenclaw is considered an acceptable House for the Blacks to be sorted into,” added Turais as his eyes wandered to the family tree tapestry. He glanced up at the stern, unyielding face of Phineas Nigellus Black and traced the descending tree branches through Arcturus and Orion before arriving at his name. After running his thumb over his name, he focused on the face beside his.

          “Sirius Black (1959 - ),” it wrote beneath the picture of a grinning child.

          “Is this your family tree?” Alex breathed out reverently as he examined the tapestry in front of Turais.

          “Yes... this tapestry has been in our family since the 13th century,” Turais said. “There’s a spell we can use to trace back the generations, but I will have to ask my father about it.”

          Alex gasped in awe at the answer again before he noticed several burnt spots on the tapestry. “Why are some faces blacked out?”

          “They were people who... who were disowned because they did not have respectable, pureblood marriages or disagreed with pureblood supremacy.”

          Alex turned to look at Turais with fear in his eyes.

          “You... will you... be...?”

          “No. The person who would blast people’s faces off this tapestry is long gone,” Turais smiled as Alex nodded.

          "And what is the story behind this?" Alex asked as he walked up to another tapestry and watched three medieval wizards in slashed and bloodied robes aim their wands, one in each hand, towards a gigantic beast that dwarfed the mountains it stood beside. It had seven dragon-like heads with red, flaming eyes, and each was attached to a long, scaly neck connected to a serpent's body. Knots of vibrant green threads appeared at the tips of their wands as they wove six straight lines across the tapestry towards the serpentine monster.

          "Odysseus, Aeneas, and Theseus Black," Turais breathed out immediately before his mind could even register the question. Just as he wondered who they were, the answer was supplied in his mind as he spoke, "They were three brothers who fought together and rid the world of the monstrous Hydra."

          "Hydra?" Alex asked. "I didn't know Hydra was an actual magical creature."

          "It was," Turais replied. Somehow, he knew his answer was the truth deep in his gut. "My ancestors killed it, as shown here."

          "Why were they holding two wands each?"

          "They were supposedly holding the wands of their fallen kins after battling against the Hydra for three days and three nights," Turais explained. Then, his eyes focused on the minute details of Aeneus's features: the sharpness of his eyes, gritted teeth, and tousled black hair. "And as the story goes, the Hydra could only be destroyed if its longest head was severed as it provides the regenerative powers that could heal the other six. Therefore, Aeneas, the wisest and noblest of the three brothers, came up with the plan to cast six Killing Curses simultaneously, one at each of the six heads. He would then sever the last one before the other six could regenerate once more and, thus, killing the monster."

          Images of two bloodied men flashed across his mind that looked similar to Odysseus and Theseus. However, they seemed to be looking down at him with expressions filled with unspoken grief and pain. Everything felt like a hazy, distant memory, but Turais couldn't have previously met them.

          "I suppose they succeeded then?" Alex asked. "Seeing that they lived to tell the tale -"

          Turais gasped and held his head as the entire story flooded his mind.

          “- Turais, are you alright? Turais!”          

          Hazily, Turais registered Alex's hands on his shoulders as he shook them.

          “I... I'm fine,” Turais said as he pushed himself onto his feet. Shakily, he gulped and said, “I... I don't know what overcame me. I'm sorry for the fright.”

          “Are you sure?” Alex asked worriedly. “You were muttering about it not being the whole story... that there were was something else...” 

          “Ignore me please, Alex. And I am sure I am perfectly fine...” Turais said as he nodded distractedly. The story of Aeneas continued to swirl in his mind, but he quickly banished it to the back of his mind. “Please do not tell my family. I don't want them to worry unnecessarily.”

          “I... I don't know about this -”

          Turais gripped Alex's hand and held it tightly. Looking into his eyes, he pleaded, “Promise me.”

          Alex's eyes quivered, but he ultimately gave a curt nod.

          Turais let out a breath of relief.

          “Thank you. Thank you...”

          Feeling that he had stayed here for far longer than he wanted to, Turais said, “Alex... why don't we head back to the second floor?”

          Alex nodded immediately, but as they left the room, Turais noticed that Alex's eyes remained fixated on the family tree as he left the room. 

 

***

 

          “Turais, I heard you took Alex on a tour around the house,” Orion asked casually as they enjoyed a cup of afternoon tea in the main sitting room. The Black brothers were eagerly filling their stomachs with tea and biscuits. However, Alex left his portion untouched while eyeing everything nervously as if he wasn’t sure what he should or should not do.

          “Yes, I briefly showed him where all the rooms are,” Turais said. 

          “So, Alex -” Alex’s cup clinked loudly against the saucer, looking startled, “- do you have a preference for any of them?”

          Alex immediately placed down his tea and sat up in rapt attention. Nodding his head meekly, he said shakily, “Yes… sir.” 

          “Relax, Alex,” Orion said with an understanding smile. “You will soon learn that we are quite casual around here… perhaps too casual…

          Glancing sideways at Sirius, who was swinging his legs on his seats while munching loudly on a biscuit, Orion frowned. He reached over and placed a quick warning tap on his son’s leg. Sirius stilled his movements and looked sheepish.

          “So… your favourite spot, Alex. What is it?”

          “Uh… I liked everything... really. It feels very homely,” Alex said softly. “But I think I like the tapestry room the most. The images and family tree on the tapestries... It feels as though I was walking into a history book that came to life...”

          Orion nodded approvingly, “Perhaps unsurprising to you, considering that you are from a pureblood family yourself, but we take immense pride in our ancestors and our past.”

          “Of... of course,” Alex said as he hastily lifted the cup to take a sip.

          “Oddly enough, Turais never liked that room and avoided it like the plague after his first visit,” Orion said. “I’m surprised he willingly entered the room with you.”

          “I… I just don’t find that room pleasant, that’s all,” Turais huffed. “It gives me the creeps every time I enter.”

          “Mr Black,” Alex suddenly asked. “I was wondering... if I can access the library as well. I would love to learn more about your family's history, if you don't mind?”

          “I don’t see why not,” Orion hummed in consideration. “Make sure Turais is with you at all times, though. He can also show you where the annals are.”

          “Thank you, Mr Black.”

          After finishing tea, Alex immediately dragged Turais to the library. 

          “Woah...” Alex exclaimed as he looked around the library. The walls were covered with beautifully etched wooden panels. Marble busts of Black ancestors were placed in front of every column. They all faced inwards at several rows of shelves that extended up to two stories in height. On the right side of the room, there were a series of narrow, clerestory stained glasses near the ceiling where the light spilt onto the fading golden letters on ancient tomes.

          They wandered down the central aisle until they reached the other side of room where there was a row of reading desks.

          “These are the family annals,” Turais said as he waved his arm at the bookshelves above the desks. Near-identical books bound with black leather covers filled the entire wall. The only difference between them was the gold-foil print on the spines of the books that indicated the year and month.

          “All of this?” Alex gasped.

          “They consist of only the most recent century of the entire collection,” Turais amended as Alex’s jaw hung loosely in shock.

          “Where's the rest?”

          “They are stored elsewhere for safe-keeping,” Turais said. He pointed out a small door that was tucked in a dark recess next to the bookshelves. “That door... it leads underground to the private library. Besides the annals, that is also where we store all the personal diaries and letters of past family members.”

          “Can we visit it as well?”

          “Unfortunately not. On that door... is a blood ward that only allows Blacks to pass through. No exceptions.”

          “I see,” Alex nodded. “But there is plenty of reading for me in here alone.”

          “I doubt you want to spend your entire time here in the library...”

          “Watch me,” Alex said with a rare, confident smirk.

Chapter 14: Intertwined Destinies (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FOURTEEN

INTERTWINED DESTINIES


 

February 13, 1970 (Friday)

 

ENGLAND CLINCHES QUALIFICATION BERTH

by A. Carnierus, Quidditch Correspondent

Host Nation Canada Qualifies for First Time in History

 

After being absent from the world's most popular tournament for the past two decades, the English team has proved that we still have what it takes to compete on the top international stage for Quidditch.

The last time England qualified as one of the sixteen teams playing in the finals was in 1950. For its last World Cup win, we have to go even further back to more than a century ago in 1866...

 

***

 

           The next morning when Turais was walking to the kitchen for breakfast, he caught a hushed conversation amongst the portraits near the staircase on the second floor.

          "Why hasn’t the barmy elf kept that impure creature out of the house?"

          "I heard from Elladora downstairs, who heard from Ursula, who heard Turais say that the boy is a dear friend of his -"

          "What did you say, Lysandra?! Our sweet, innocent boy must have been confounded by that -"

          Turais cleared his throat as the portraits lining the hallway fell silent.

          "Great great grand-uncle Sirius, I hope you weren't gossiping about me and my friend," Turais said calmly. "You as well, great grand-aunt Belvina and Lysandra."

          "Well..." Sirius Black adjusted his dress robes uncomfortably. "We are just worried that he will drag down your reputation, especially when you have such a promising future."

          “I appreciate the concern, sir,” Turais said. "But times have changed and we must learn to look beyond these divisions that threaten to tear apart our society."

         "I doubt it changed enough to make your alliance an acceptable one," Sirius huffed.

          "It didn't, that's why I'm here to make it happen," Turais said firmly. "And take care to never utter your thoughts in his presence, whatever they might be. I will not allow anything less than perfect hospitality towards my treasured guest and friend."

         “As you wish, Turais,” Sirius said as Lysander and Belvina nodded in agreeement. "Although I -"

          A door swung open and smashed violently against the wall as a pair of feet darted rapidly across the hallway upstairs.

          “SIRIUS! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT HIDING SUGAR MICE IN YOUR UNDERPANTS DRAWER?!" Orion bellowed.

          Turais glanced upwards towards the noise when he suddenly realized that Alex was on the next landing.

          “You’re early,” Turais said casually as Sirius dashed down the stairs past him. Hot on his heels was the irate Orion, who continued to shout Sirius’s name loudly as he went out of view. “Is the bed uncomfortable?”

          “No, no, no,” Alex denied immediately. “It’s very comfortable. I’m… I’m just not used to all this… and... sorry for eavesdropping…”

          “Oh, so you heard them,” Turais muttered, feeling apologetic for his ancestors’ words. “Please don’t mind them, I’ve scolded them already.”

          “I heard,” Alex said slowly. “Thanks… and sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble for being here.”

          “You’re not at the fault here,” Turais said before glaring up at Sirius’s portrait. The portrait wisely pretended to be asleep and did not respond. “So… breakfast?”

          Later that day, Sirius took a peek outside the window and declared it was the perfect snow condition for an impromptu snowball fight. Therefore, under the grey clouds and stingingly cold air, Turais was now prowling the domesticated wilderness of the neighbourhood park in search of his preys amongst the large flakes of drifting snow. He packed the snow cupped in his gloved hands casually, stalking patiently for his next victim in a highly successful hunt. Suddenly, he saw a glimpse of the bobbing head of groomed, black hair just above the snow-clad hedges up ahead.

          Bingo.

          Turais carefully circled around the position of his unsuspecting brother, pausing occasionally to listen for any suspicious snap of twigs or crunches in the snow. He could now see the specks of white clinging onto Regulus’s hair clearly as he drew back his arm...

          THWACK!

          "Aaaugh!" Regulus yelped as the snowball burst against his bare head. "Darn it! That was you, Turais, wasn't it?!"

          Regulus turned his head to where Turais once stood but the perpetrator had long receded back behind the hedges.

          Turais, buoyed by his most recent success, scooped a handful of snow. Suddenly, he heard a series of footsteps rapidly approaching from his left. Turais snapped his head towards the sound, but he could not see anyone.

          Slightly unnerved, Turais quickly retreated to his right and into the treeline. As he surveyed the area from his hiding spot, he suddenly spotted a mop of long, curly hair with specks of white directly beside him. He was completely burrowed in the trough of the tree roots and surrounded by bushes. There was also a small heap of snowballs lying by his feet. If Turais did not jump into the woods, he would never have discovered the boy.

          "Hey, Siri!" Turais shouted out as he threw the snowball at his mark. Sirius turned towards his eldest brother upon hearing his name and Turais’s aim was true -

          THWACK!

          Sirius twisted madly as the powdered snow exploded over his face. Some of the snow had also gone under his collar as Sirius scrubbed at his robes frantically.

          "Merlin's hairy balls, Turais! The snow is trickling down my undershirt!" Sirius shouted as Turais laughed, his face completely red from the cold air and physical exertion.

          "It's on, big brother!"

          Sirius bent down and scooped up his stockpile of projectiles. Then, he screamed his battle cry and chased after the hastily retreating Turais. 

          Turais ran away as snowballs glanced off his shoulders. Just as Turais thought he had outpaced his brother -

          SPLAT!

          A large snowball exploded directly in his face. Turais spluttered as two more snowballs caught him in the chest and the stomach from seemingly nowhere.

          Suddenly, he found himself targeted from all sides without cover as he was continually pelted with compact snow.

          "Do you surrender unconditionally?!" Regulus’s voice shouted from somewhere to his right. 

          "I will never!" Turais shouted back as another snowball slapped him in the face in return. 

          "Now, do you surrender?" Alex’s amused voice echoed.

          "Fine! Fine! I surrender," Turais waved his empty hands as the three boys cheered loudly around him. "You are all ganging up on me."

          "Did not!" Sirius’s head popped into view from behind a tree at the words. "You’re just terrible at snowball fights, Turais."

          Alex also appeared beside him and helped him stand up. The skies had turned several shades darker now. The wind had also picked up as the snowflakes whipped around him more ferociously than mere minutes ago.

          "Let's head back," Turais said as he rubbed his arms frantically. “I don't want my frozen backside to fall off."

          They walked back onto the main path and past Muggle children trying to finish their snowmen before sunset. All the while, Turais eyed Sirius warily as the younger boy trailed behind him suspiciously with his hands hidden from view.

          Alex was just about to comment on something when Turais ducked at Sirius’s sudden movement.

          “Arrgh! " Alex grunted as he spat out a mouthful of snow,  "Sirius, you brat!"

          Sirius laughed as Alex chased him all the way back to 12 Grimmauld Place.

          "I like you, Alex," Regulus announced as he patted down his robes once they returned to the warm comfort of their house. "You're awesome."

          Alex's hands stilled as he blinked owlishly.

          "Yeah," Sirius agreed as shook his head like a wet dog and chunks of ice flung out of his long, curly hair.

          "Eww... Sirius," Regulus said in disgust, "I don't want your frozen dandruff on me."

          Sirius ignored him and continued, "We want you on our team for snowball fights from now on -"

          "Ah hah! I knew you were teaming up against me," Turais exclaimed as he shed his outer layers. Now, he felt completely vindicated from suffering his first loss in their snowball fights since... well, since forever, really.

          Sirius shrugged, "Whatever, Turais. We never win against you so can you blame us? But now -" He turned to Alex with a conspiratory glint, " - since Alex is here... Reggie and I would like to offer you membership to our anti-Turais Snowball Society."

          Sirius extended his hand with a sense of aloofness. Alex eyed Turais cautiously, but then he grinned mischievously and took Sirius’s hand.

          "Deal."

          Turais groaned as his younger brothers cheered.

          "You're all cheaters," muttered Turais with a pout. "Every. Last. One of you."

          "And you're just a sore loser, Turais. Alex has brilliant tactics and aim," Sirius crowed.

          Turais looked at Alex sharply. "You're just lucky that your hair colour makes you hard to spot. You’re not that good,” Turais huffed in mild annoyance.

          “Sore loser,” Alex coughed as Turais glared.

          Under Orion’s strict order, the four boys were now sitting on the hearth close to the crackling fire with blankets pooled around them. Sirius started to pester Alex for stories about Hogwarts and the older boy complied. Soon, the ruthless snowball fight was all but forgotten.

          “And so we were at the boy's toilet on the first floor when a head suddenly popped up from the toilet seat!” Alex said animatedly. 

          “Who was it? It was Peeves, wasn't it?" Sirius exclaimed.

          “How did you know, Sirius?" Alex said in mock surprise.

          “I knew it! I knew it!" Sirius shouted victoriously.

          “Yay,” Regulus said halfheartedly, “It’s not as if Peeves was not behind every single prank he’s told us.”

          “Lighten up a little,” Sirius said as he scruffed his brother’s neck playfully. “Plus, once I get to Hogwarts, Peeves will finally meet his match."

           As Regulus squirmed under his brother's restricting arms, Sirius looked up to address Alex with a smirk, “You’d think my playfulness would’ve rubbed off on him without Turais’s stifling presence.” Alex snickered while Turais shot them both a withering look.

          “Your older brother is a bit of a tetchy grandfather,” Alex teased.

          “Hey! I'm not tetchy!” Turais punched Alex in the arm. "It's called maturity, that's what it is."

          “He pulls the annoying, wise older brother act on you quite often, doesn't he?” Sirius teased as he shared a knowing grin with Alex while Turais spluttered indignantly.

          “Where did you learn this impertinence? You brat,” Turais scolded as Sirius stuck out his tongue. Alex chuckled happily.

          “Not from me,” Orion said as he entered with a hovering tray of mugs. “Dark chocolate that Gareth purchased on his Belgium trip.”

          “Lord Greengrass’s son,” Turais whispered when he saw Alex’s confused expression.

          Sirius leaped up and was about to snatch one of the five mugs of steaming, hot chocolate when Orion cleared his throat.

          “Where are your manners, Sirius?” Orion said sternly as Sirius’s hand shrunk back at once. “Let Alex take his first.”

          “It's fine, Mr Black,” Alex said. “Sirius can take his first.”

          “No, it's not fine,” Orion shot his second son a warning glare. “Sirius has been acting too carelessly these days. Do not excuse his appalling manners.”

          “Sorry, father,” Sirius mumbled sulkily. Turais stepped in quickly to diffuse the tension.

          “Here you go, Alex... no marshmallows because you don't like sweets,” Turais said cheerfully as he handed Alex a mug, “... and here you go, Siri. I know you like yours with lots of marshmallows so I'm going to put five marshmallows..

          Sirius perked up a little as Turais plopped in the large, fluffy marshmallows into his cup as they crowded the surface of the mug.

          “Thank you... Turais,” Sirius smiled gratefully as he held the mug with both hands and sipped on it carefully.

          “And here you go, Reggie, your normal three -“

          “Two,” Regulus amended, "These are ginormous marshmallows. I only need two."

          “Of course you can,” Turais smiled as he did as requested.

          “Thank you, Turais. You're the best!" Regulus said happily.

          “And father, the one with milk is yours.”

          “Thank you, Turais,” Orion said. "You should try yours now - while it is still hot."

          "Of course, but did Kreacher have some hot chocolate?”

          Sirius chortled at the mention of the elf. “WHAT?! Turais! That thing doesn’t deserve hot chocolate. Does he even know what hot chocolate is?”

          Turais frowned at his brother as he stood up. “Sirius, who do you think prepared these then?” Turais lifted his mug with both hands, careful not to spill any. “I’ll just head to the kitchen for a moment.”

          “Turais,” Orion said exasperatedly. “Kreacher can prepare his own if he wants to.”

          Turais rolled his eyes mentally and continued on his way. Kreacher would never dare to take anything from the family store for his own consumption, let alone from Orion’s private store and on top of that, a gift from another Lord, even with permission. His respect and reverence for the family was borderline fearful and unhealthy.

          When Turais reached the kitchen, he saw the hard-working elf preparing for their dinner already. Spotting his master, Kreacher quickly left his ingredients as the knives and ladle continued to cut and stir.

          “What does Master Turais need?” Kreacher croaked out with a deep bow.

          “I just need a mug, Kreacher,” Turais said as he set his hot chocolate on the counter. 

          “Master Turais could have summoned Kreacher. Master need not have come to Kreacher,” Kreacher grumbled as he quickly levitated a clean mug towards them. “Master is too kind.”

          Turais caught the second mug by the handle and lifted his filled mug to pour out a third of the content.

          “Here is a bit of hot chocolate that you have prepared for us,” Turais said as Kreacher’s tennis ball-sized eyes widened horrifiedly as he realized what was happening. “And this is for you.”

          “Master Turais... Kreacher cannot... Kreacher will not drink the precious gift given to Master Orion,” Kreacher shook his head so hard that it looked as though he would suffer from a subsequent head trauma.

          “Oh hush. If my father did not permit this, I wouldn’t be here right now,” Turais grinned. “Or else I will just have to order you to drink it.”

          “Order Kreacher? Master Turais always asks politely, but never orders,” Kreacher trembled as he held onto the mug dearly.          

          “Then let’s keep it that way, shall we?” Turais asked softly.

          “Anything Master Turais wishes, Kreacher is glad to provide,” Kreacher looked up with a smile - a smile that took Harry Potter years before he finally witnessed it but one he saw regularly as Turais Black.

          “Well, thank you, Kreacher. And merry Christmas,” Turais smiled as he left the kitchen while Kreacher continued to be mesmerized by the mug's content.

          Later that day, Turais would find an empty mug on the counter and an elf humming happily with a small blot of dried chocolate at the tip of his pointed nose.

 

***

 

          Besides mealtime and the occasional snowball fight, Alex kept his word and spent the majority of his time poring over books in the library.

          “I didn't know you were such a bookworm,” Turais couldn't help but comment when they were spending their fifth afternoon in a row there. He twisted his body and lied on his back to stare up at the arched ceilings above. “I mean... don't we do enough reading at Hogwarts?”

          “But at Hogwarts, you don't get to read these,” Alex said as he lifted up a book for Turais to see. 

          Scrunching his nose at the title, he asked, “I've never heard of this before. Is it any good?”

          “The writing is adequate, I suppose, but that's not the point.”

          “Then what is?”

          “This!” Alex said as he flipped the book around and showed Turais the pages. He was faced with... ordinary pages... with writing in the blank margins. “I love the marginalia and the corrections. To know that someone has read this same passage as you... and to be able to read their thoughts... it... it feels like you're in some ways connecting with them...”

          Thinking back to Snape's personal notes in his old Potions textbook, Turais could very much appreciate that sentiment. However, a tiny sniffle brought him back from his reveries. Turais turned to see Alex wiping his red-rimmed eyes with his robe sleeve hastily.

          “Alex...”

          “Don't mind me,” Alex whispered wetly as he turned away from Turais and wept silently.

          “Is... is there anything I can get you?” Turais asked, worried about the other boy's well-being.

          “No, no, I... I'll be fine in just a moment.”

          Turais waited patiently in silence until Alex recovered enough to speak.

          “I... oh... this is embarrassing,” Alex said deprecatingly.

          “It's alright to feel low sometimes,” Turais comforted.

          “I'm not sad... well, I guess I am a bit... but -” Alex paused and took a deep breath before settling with, “My feelings are all weird and disgusting inside... sorry...”

          “You don't need to explain anything to me,” Turais said gently. “Just know that I'm always here for you.”

          Alex looked at Turais for a brief moment before tears started to leak from the corner of his eyes.

          Turais merely pulled Alex into a comforting hug as Alex sobbed into his shoulder.

          “T...Thanks, Turais,” Alex sniffed when he calmed himself down.

          “Don't mention it,” Turais smiled. “So, where were we? Ah! Your book... uh - Turais's Traditional Treacle Tart, was it?”

          That managed to elicit a grin from Alex as he huffed, “I know you love your treacle tarts, Turais, but that was not even close.”

          “Twirl the Tilting Teapot ?” Turais tried again.

          “Turais, stop.”

          “Okay,” Turais said as he sat up properly and gave a mock salute. Alex smiled before he smacked Turais on the head with the book titled Troll Trainers Traversing Transylvania.

 

***

 

           “Surprise!" Turais shouted at a bleary-eyed boy who was ushered into the kitchen by the two younger Black brothers acting as bodyguards.

           “What is happening?" Alex asked as he stared intently at the large Quaffle cake that was in the center of the table. The number twelve was printed in a large font on the surface.

           “Well... it's your birthday... right?" Turais asked nervously as the excitement deflated in the room. He was fairly certain that he had the date correct... but, perhaps not? "January 1st. New Year's Day?"

           Alex just stood there stoically for a few seconds. Turais wasn't sure if he was shell-shocked or unimpressed.

           “It's my birthday," Alex said quietly.

           Turais was confused with the lack of excitement, but he maintained his large smile and wide grin. Hopefully, he would be able to infect Alex with a more festive mood.

           “Well, what are you waiting for, birthday boy? Make a wish and blow out the candles!" Turais dragged the boy towards the table in front of the cake with twelve candles that was blazing like a forest fire.

           Alex did as he was told. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. Sirius and Regulus surrounded the cake eagerly, salivating at the treat.

           “Are you done yet, Alex?" Sirius whined.

            Turais shot Sirius a silencing glance while Alex continued undisturbed. After a few more silent seconds, he reopened his eyes and blew hard at the flames. Suddenly, Sirius yelped as he jumped back. Several ends of his long locks of hair were singed from the sudden burst of flames that flew towards him.

            Everyone laughed as Sirius patted his hair with a scowl.

           “Thank you, Turais," Alex muttered softly into Turais's ear and Turais gave him a winning smile. "I... I didn't expect anyone to celebrate my birthday."

           “I would be a terrible friend if I forgot your birthday, Alex," Turais knocked his shoulder into Alex's. 

           The other boy's eyes were glistening slightly, although Turais didn't know if it was from the smoke or something else. Then, he muttered something lowly that Turais could not catch.

           “What was it?” Turais asked.

           “You're... not just any friend... You're my best friend,” Alex whispered with his eyes trained firmly on Turais's face.

           “Best friend,” Turais repeated softly as he had a flashback to what he told the dying man in his arms.

           ‘I was hoping that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’         

           In a convoluted and unexpected way, that was truly the beginning of his friendship with a brilliant person called Alexander Fawley.
 
           “We don’t have to be… if you want to…” the present, younger Alex said immediately, looking flustered.

           “Best friends. I like the sound of that,” Turais said easily as he grinned at Alex. Alex dipped his head and smiled as well.

           “Thank you," Alex repeated reverently once more.

 

***

 

          In the blink of an eye, Christmas holiday came to an end and Turais found himself on the Hogwarts Express once again as he journeyed back to Hogwarts. In their first Transfiguration class after the holiday, Turais and Alex were once again chatting animatedly again after they successfully completed their match-to-needle transformation within the first five minutes of class. Bored, they began a battle to see who could transform the most matches at a time.

          Turais was attempting thirteen matches when Alex's sudden gasp startled him.

          “What is it?” Turais asked.

          “I received Ollivander's response to my inquiry regarding your wand this morning! But I didn't have time to read it as I was in a hurry,” Alex said excitedly as he rummaged his bag. Slapping the letter onto their joined tables, Alex grinned, “We can read it now!”

          “I thought you wrote to him last… September?”

          “Yeah, it’s been a lengthy wait. But let’s see what Ollivander has for us...” Alex said as he unfolded the parchment and scanned the page. “Dear Mr Fawley, your letter is well received... was on a four-month-long wand wood scouting trip in the Western Siberian Plains immediately after school term started... Well, that explains the long wait.”

          “Four months in Siberia in the dead of winter?” Turais gasped as he waved his wand over the matches. A moment later, they transformed into thirteen perfect, sharp, metal needles. Satisfied, he placed down his wand and faced his friend. 

          “There’s a reason why wands cost so much, Turais,” Alex muttered as he continued to read. “The amount of skills required to construct a good wand and,on top of that, the time and effort necessary to obtain the best quality materials... Siberian spruce wood collected in the two weeks before Winter Solstice are of the highest magical quality... and oh -” Alex's face fell as he showed Turais the final paragraph. “He said he cannot reveal much about your wand to me due to privacy reasons and that he told you all there is to know about your wand during your visit.”

          “Is that all?” Turais asked, feeling a bit disappointed that he did not gain much information.

          “Well, he also inquired about your wand and wondered how it is suiting you so far, but that basically sums it up,” Alex said as he placed the letter back in the envelope and put it aside. He then examined the pointy tips of the thirteen freshly-transformed needles. Noticing no flaws, he pushed them into the growing pile of needles in the middle of their desks before counting out another fourteen matches for himself.

          “As far as I can tell, it works perfectly well,” Turais responded. “But I don’t think it’s doing anything especially great, despite his whole tall tale about how the tree presented the branch to me and all that -”

          “Wait, what? You neglected to tell me that the elder tree presented the branch and that’s why he took it?!” Alex dropped his match box and turned at Turais, sounding completely surprised.

          Turais stopped pouring out the matches and looked at Alex questioningly. “Is it something special? Doesn’t he just pluck branches out of trees?”

          “No, Turais,” Alex said offendedly. “The reason why wandmakers go on such long journeys into the wilderness instead of just ‘plucking branches out of trees’ in their gardens is because they need to communicate with the candidate trees. That and also wild trees are of better magical quality.”

          “Wait, what? You mean like walking up to a tree and start talking to it?”

          “No, you uncultured troll.” Alex sounded exasperated at Turais’s ignorance. “Wand wood and wand core searches are highly magical and spiritual events. The wandmaker needs to first cleanse his magic core by abstaining from performing any magic. They cannot even travel through the Floo; hence, the long travels. During wand wood searches, the wandmaker must venture into the deepest and wildest parts of the forest. Then, as he approaches the candidate trees, he will have to meditate and listen to the trees through his magical core. These sounds are so well-blended with natural magic that the slightest charmworks performed will overshadow them like a hurricane to a gentle breeze. 

          “Usually, he would sense no objections from the trees and would proceed to collect their fallen branches that are suitable for wand-making. But for more capricious or distrustful trees, such as elder or yew, he would sometimes sense a warning and must refrain from collecting. For even if he collects them, the wood will not cooperate and the wands fashioned will be rendered useless. 

          “But very rarely, he would hear a tree call towards him to present him with a living branch. In this case, the wandmaker must communicate extensively with that particular tree and excise the branch at the precise length it dictated. It is commonly believed amongst wandmakers that these events are almost prophetic as the wands made from these branches will always end up choosing those of great significance.” 

          Alex gave Turais a long, meaningful look when they suddenly heard the rapidly approaching footsteps. They hastily turned back to their matches and cast the spell they were supposed to practise. Turais managed to transform an entire box of matches into needles perfectly. And much to Alex’s disappointment, two of his needles were wood instead of metal.

          “Mr Black! Mr Fawley! Please stop chatting in my… did you transfigure all my matches?” Professor McGonagall sounded half livid and half amused. They looked up guiltily from the heap of silver needles and empty matchboxes to their professor, whose right eye was twitching slightly.

          “Well, clean up and... five points apiece to Slytherin as usual, I suppose, for… excessive outstanding work.”

          As they walked to their next class. Alex continued, “But honestly, I won’t put too much faith in the whole ‘owner of a presented wand shows great significance’ business. It might be true for you, but… I don’t think it’s necessarily true for others as well…”

          “But it’s great to have an interesting backstory to the wand!” Turais exclaimed, he thought back to the holly wand he once possessed and the story of the intertwined destiny with Voldemort’s brother wand. “It’s a rare occurrence, I take it?”

          “Well, he told me that throughout his entire career, he has only experienced a ‘presentation’ thrice,” Alex said.

          “Woah. There are thousands of wands being sold each year and only three were ‘presented’ to him?” Turais asked in shock. Turning thoughtful, he mused,  “I wonder who owns the other two wands?”

          Alex hesitated as he looked uncertain at the answer for once. “Wand information is very personal and sacred, much like a prophecy. Mr Ollivander said that wandmakers are under magical oath to not reveal any information except to the parties involved.”

          “Hmm, they must be really significant individuals then,” Turais mused.

          ‘Mr Ollivander was not a wandmaker when Dumbledore and Grindelwald purchased their first wands, so I bet that means Voldemort was chosen for the second wand. As for the third wand… I’ll have to keep an ear out for this.’

          “I would have to guess so... but again, I really don’t think you should count on it,” Alex said, not sounding convinced.

          “Don’t you want me to be significant?” Turias teased.

          “Turais,” Alex looked at him blandly as they turned into the Charms classroom, “I know you will be significant with or without a presented wand. Stop fishing for compliments.”

Chapter 15: Lords and Heirs (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LORDS AND HEIRS


 

March 15, 1970 (Sunday)

 

ASSAULT CASE TURNS MURDEROUS

by C. Broomwright, Legal Observer

Death of Hesperia Shacklebolt Marks Dramatic Turn of Event

Guildford Case Likely to be Referred to Grand Jury Court

 

Days before the expiry of the "Year and a day" rule, Hesperia Shacklebolt, the victim of the highly-publicized burglary and assault case (or more commonly known as the Guilford Case) died from health complications. Her death marks a dramatic turning point to the continuing legal power struggle between the plaintiff and the defendant, Emery Rosier.

The "Year and a day" rule dictates that one could not be legally attributed to acts or omissions that occurred more than a year and a day before the death, which means that if the late Miss Shacklebolt died just a few days later, Rosier cannot be charged with her murder (see Common Law procedures on page 7). However, since her death occurred prior to that limit, it is highly likely that the Aurors Office will amend its charges due to the recent development.

Lord Abraxas Malfoy, the Chief of the High Court where this case is being decided, has granted a stay on the case for an unprecedented period of nearly one year. However, the case is anticipated to be now referred to the higher court - The Grand Jury Court - under the helm of Lord Arcturus Black where an Azkaban sentence is assured...

 

***

 

          Turais and Alex were entering the common room one day when Jonty ran up to him from behind and whispered, “Turais, Alex. Gossip report!”

          Jonty might as well have yelled his words out loud as everyone had already gathered around once they spotted the excited resident gossip-monger.

          “Steward, speak!" Alderton, a third-year, demanded.

          Jonty cleared his throat importantly before crouching down once more and waved his arms dramatically. "There has been a huge change in the Slytherin house team line-up!" 

          “Who got shafted?" Summerbee, a fellow first-year, asked excited as she soaked up the news.

          “Wilkins, who was the main Beater the last two years but bumped down to back-up last game, is back in the starting line-up -"

          “Great! Bragge is incompetent at best -" Delaney exclaimed.

          But before Jonty could reveal more information, the common room entrance opened once more as two boys Turais recognized as the Beaters of the Slytherin team, Bragge and Hattilus, stormed through the common room with identical scowls wordlessly. Just as everyone in the common room was wondering what else had happened in the Quidditch practice today, a voice echoed out from the entrance antechamber.

          “ - you can’t do this!” a female voice shouted. The students in the common room continued to maintain their facade of nonchalance, but they were all sneaking glances at the pair that just entered the dormitory.

          "Look, Arkenstone. I have replaced my Beaters as well," Laughalot said. "This is not personal -"

          “How is this not personal, Laughalot? Say it to my face that Nott is a better Chaser,” Natalia Arkenstone, the sixth-year Chaser on the Slytherin team, shouted as she grabbed the captain’s arm. 

          Laughalot looked pained as he spun around and wrung his arm violently out of her grasp. “NO! You’re not a worse Chaser than Nott -”

          “Then why are you booting me off the team?!” The Slytherin common room gasped. “I know you don’t want -”

          “Just accept it, Arkenstone. Nott is now Chaser. Just like how Wilkins and Stacey are the main Beaters. End of story,” Laughalot gritted out before storming away, leaving a shocked former Chaser rooted at her spot in his wake.

          The common room entrance opened again as a smug-looking Nott in his full Quidditch outfit strolled in with the rest of the team. 

          “Don’t be too upset now, dearest. It’s cute that you thought that you even had a chance,” Nott crowed. “Given your father’s behaviour in the Wizengamot. Someone really ought to put your family in place. Laughalot was honestly too kind to even entertain your pathetic bid for so long, blood traitor.”

          Arkenstone glared wordlessly before turning around to leave.

          “One more thing,” Nott shouted as she stopped in her tracks. “Please clear out your locker soon -”

          “I’ll do it tomorrow, Nott,” said Arkenstone growled out.

          “Make it early morning, I’m planning on practicing some moves before lunch and I don’t want to ruin my appetite by seeing any blood-stained knickers -”

          SMACK! 

          Arkenstone dropped her broom and slapped Nott across the face with every ounce of her strength and fury. “Shut your gob, you gormless sexist git!”

          Nott looked flabbergasted as a red imprint of a palm started to form on his left cheek. But then, his face contorted with rage. He was about to reach for his wand when a Beater quickly constrained his arms behind his back.

          “Wilkins! Take your hands off -”

          “Don’t herniate yourself, numpty,” said Arkenstone as she gathered her broom from the ground. “I’ll make sure to get front row seats to watch you flounder.”

          “You slag!” the boy screamed as he struggled against Wilkins’s firm grip.

          “I am a slapper,” Arkenstone said as she strolled away. Turais couldn’t help but laugh at the retort and she shot him a grin as she walked past.

          “What’s funny, Black?!” Nott roared as he flushed in embarrassment.

          “Do you see anyone else in the room that’s more laughable?” Turais quipped as he gathered his materials. 

          “You!

          “Nott!” the second Beater, Stacey, hissed into the ear of the enraged boy. “He’s Black, not Arkenstone. Pick your battles!”

          Turais smirked as he walked past a muted but enraged Nott. Once out in the dungeon corridors, Turais trailed after the two older Slytherins until they ended up in the snow-covered courtyard.

          “ - stupid Laughalot - you spineless git -"

          The pine needles shook noisily as the entire tree tremoured and brought lumps of snow crashing down onto the snowy grounds.

          “Natalia, that's enough -"

          “ - but it's really your fault - damn you, Nott -"

          “Natalia, you're going to hurt yourself -"

          The tree shook again... and again... as the girl kicked the trunk in frustration. Another person, a boy, stood silently behind her as he watched on.

          “What wrong did the poor tree commit against you?" Turais asked as he traced the trail of foot-sized depressions embedded in the crisp blanket of snow. The girl halted in her aggression and breathed heavily as Turais stopped a few meters away. White puffs of moisture formed in the chilly air as they drifted upwards.

          “Black."

          “Arkenstone. Wilkins." Turais gave each of them a quick nod. "So, what did the tree do to deserve this grievous bodily harm?" Turais asked again. Wilkins eyed Turais darkly as Arkenstone kicked the tree once more before relenting.

          “It just happened to be named Nott," she glared at the tree fiercely.

          “And who bestowed such an undesirable name for it?"

          Arkenstone quirked a grin before it disappeared into the persistent scowl once more. "I don't know, maybe Nott Senior."

          Turais hummed at the response. Eyeing the girl's lessened antagonism, Turais took a few steps closer to inspect the fallen needles on the surrounding ground.

          “Normal trees should not lose needles from just a few punches."

          “Maybe it was more than a few punches?" Arkenstone said.

          “Or maybe you throw a mean punch... as well as I saw you slap," Turais commented as he continued to inspect the strands of greens that littered the white canvas. "Or maybe the tree is vastly inferior, considering it is so rattled in your presence." Turais met her gaze for a second time and held it.

          She smiled at the comment. "Not a big fan of the tree, I gather?"

          “Well, it does have a stupid name and a stupid look," Turais grinned as Arkenstone chuckled.

          “I'll have to agree with you on this one, it is truly hideous," Arkenstone said as she patted the bark. "Want to try and pack a good punch?"

          “I'll pass," Turais said. "It's not worth expending the time or effort. We both have much better things to do."

          “But it will continue to show its ugly branches," she commented. Turais could sense that she was merely arguing for the sake of arguing at this point.

          “A true landscaper would recognize that this tree is a dud the second he lays his eyes on it," Turais said as he met Wilkins' gaze briefly. "Just give it some time. People will notice even if they don't express it."

          “I suppose..." Arkenstone said as she rubbed her gloved hands on her arms. "It's getting cold. We best head back."

          “Let the tree freeze its arse out here while we enjoy a steamy, hot mug of hot chocolate indoors," Turais said as Arkenstone laughed again. 

          Arkenstone and the wordless Wilkins made their way towards him as the fresh snow crunched beneath their feet. They walked in a companionable silence as they made their way back to the Entrance Hall. After patting off the excess snow hanging on their clothes, Natalia turned towards Turais.

          “Natalia," she said as she took off her gloves and extended her hand.

          “Turais." He took the hand and shook it.

 

***

 

          The wintry spell over the Scotland Highlands gradually lifted as flowers reared their curious heads into the welcoming, spring air.

          The tentative ceasefire between the Black and Malfoy heirs held precariously throughout the term. Malfoy did not forbid his allies from bullying non-pureblood students. However, he also ignored that Turais was actively protecting them from abuse. Many of the leaders were furious with Turais’s interference, of course, but without Malfoy’s explicit support, they did not dare go against the Black heir. And given the alliance between the Blacks and the Malfoys in the Wizengamot, such support was nonexistent as Lucius Malfoy's hands were effectively tied.

           And hence, this pathetic political dance continued where bullies sought to terrorize the masses and Turais sought to thwart their plans while Malfoy acted as the incapacitated leader observing from the sidelines and unable to act.

           Despite the inability to promptly break this cycle, Turais’s success in defying the leadership created some breathing room for the other students in the oppressive atmosphere. Turais’s elevated status in the House also allowed those whose views were more pragmatic and moderate to coalesce around him. It was only when they started to publicly support Turais that he realized the blood purists were actually far outnumbered by those who held less extreme views.

            The only reason that they continued to hold an outsized influence in the House was because they took control of the leadership positions and passed them to their like-minded allies. All the while, new generations of Slytherins had always lived under these circumstances without knowing that things did not have to remain as such. It only took Turais’s appearance and his willingness to buck the status quo to remind everyone that the leadership did not hold any real power beyond empty threats.

           Outside of the House, Turais’s reputation also grew alongside his popularity. Cynical students who found the idea of a pragmatic Black heir suspicious had also started to warm up to Turais. Although it would take time to wash away the decades-long reputation of a blood-purist House, these changes made Turais hopeful that he could achieve his goal of inter-House unity.

          “I think I'm going to stay at Hogwarts this Easter..." Alex mumbled softly as they were lounging on the couch in the empty Slytherin common room while Turais was reading the latest letter Regulus and Sirius wrote him.

          “Huh, I told my father that you are coming back with me," Turais said. "Sorry, I just assumed... that you would like to come with us."

          “I am?" Alex asked with a tone of surprise. Turais turned towards his best friend and recognized the hopeful look on his face.

          “Of course you're welcome to join us!" said Turais.

          Alex ducked his head and scratched it bashfully. “I... I didn't want to presume... or impose...”

          “Nonsense,” Turais threw his arm around the boy. "It will be more of an imposition if you didn't show up on our doorstep. I think Sirius will have a few choice words with me in private,” Turais gestured at the letter in his hand, “He has already threatened me with that. And I asked father already and he agreed to host you again. You were... what were the exact words - ah - ‘a delightful young man with impeccable manners.’”

          Turais tilted the letter for Alex to see. Alex's cheeks tinted rosy at the revelation. 

          “I d...didn't act that properly," Alex said shyly as he gently pushed Turais's arm off him. Turais snorted.

          “Anyone put beside my brother would have perfect manner, that's for sure," said Turais.

          Alex deadpanned, "Yes... may we never forget the three dine mice." Turais choked up in laughter as two arms swung around the duo.

          “What's so funny?" Jonty asked as he poked his head in between them. "Tell me."

          Alex gave Jonty a shrug as Turais continued to laugh uncontrollably. "I think Turais has went berserk."

          “That was brilliant, Alex," Turais wheezed out as he finally caught his breath. He could feel the tears pooling at the corner of his eye and his stomach ached.

          “Can someone explain to me what is happening?" Jonty snapped. 

          “Sirius accidentally let loose a pack of sugar mice that he smuggled into the kitchen during dinner over holiday and -"

          “Hold on a moment, why does he need to smuggle sugar mice to dinner?" Jonty asked.

          “Merlin knows what goes through that crazy brain of his," Turais said. "Back to the story, he made a mess of the dinner while the mice ran and squeaked frantically on the dinner table in the background."

          “I can see that being quite entertaining," Jonty said while imagining the scenario. "But what were you laughing at?"

          “Oh, Alex, you explain," Turais said. He was about to laugh again just picturing the lyrics. It was so accurate.

          Alex scratched his neck and said, "You know... the nursery rhyme - the three blind mice?"

          Jonty frowned and shook his head.

          “Wait, you don't?" Turais asked. "It's a well-known nursery rhyme."

          “I've never heard of this ever in my life," Jonty said vehemently.

          “Well, I guess our Jonty is not a know-at-all after all," Turais teased.

          Jonty bristled indignantly as he retracted himself from the two boys. He said hotly, "I know everything that is important. Nursery rhymes are not important."

          Alex and Turais grinned.

          “And how come you don't invite me to your stay at your house?" Jonty asked as his cheeks coloured, which only caused the other two boys to giggle harder.

          “Fine, exclude me from your little inside jokes. I'll see how you like it when you don't get all the first-hand information from your esteemed but neglected friend," Jonty huffed as he opened his Potions textbook and hid behind it.

          “Hey, Jonty," Turais nudged the boy on the arm. "Do you want to stay at my place?"

          “Absolutely not."

          “How about a day visit?"

          “I might think about it," Jonty sniffed with his nose turned upwards. "Might."

          Turais chuckled.

 

***

 

          “Black,” Malfoy walked up to Turais the next day when he was having breakfast with Alex and Jonty.

          “Malfoy,” Turais replied as he stood up.

          The conversations in the Great Hall trickled to a stop and were replaced by hushed whispers as everyone eyed the two heirs from prominent families interacting with each other.

          Malfoy’s jaw muscles were tense as he reached into his inner robe pocket and pulled out an elegant, silver envelope in one fluid motion.

          “I cordially invite you to the Malfoy Ball this year,” Malfoy said through clenched teeth in a tone that was anything but inviting.

          Traditionally, the Malfoy Ball was held annually during Easter holiday. Turais was admittedly surprised when he saw the invitation given how the host was thoroughly upstaged by him last year. However, upon a second thought, the Blacks and the Malfoys were in an important alliance so they must keep up with the appearance. Furthermore, Turais was now an important figure and the Malfoys could not afford to publicly break relations with him anymore.

          Turais smiled courteously in response, “I thank you for the invitation and will be sure to attend.”

          “The pleasure's all mine,” Malfoy said tersely before procuring two more invitations. “These are the invitations for you as well, Steward. Fawley.”

          Alex eyed the envelope in shock while Jonty smiled and said smoothly, “Thank you, and please send Lord Malfoy my regards.”

          “I certainly will,” Malfoy said. Giving Turais a final, penetrating gaze, he whipped around and walked away.

          “Woah, my very own invitation to the Malfoy Ball,” Jonty gasped as he ran his thumb over his name on the envelope while Alex examined it with his trembling fingers.

          “I'm sure it will be great!” Jonty said excitedly. He clasped a hand on Alex's shoulder and said, “Alex, I know you haven't been, but this is one of the most extravagant Balls in all of Wizarding Britain. The Malfoys know how to host a Ball if nothing else.”

          Alex coughed and Turais winced while Jonty continued to heap praises.

 

***

 

          “What kind of drapes are these?” Rosier said as he swiped carelessly at the navy blue material that bordered the French doors in Malfoy Manor.

          Turais and Alex was forcefully grouped along the handful of underaged Hogwarts students as they stood at the corner of the grand Ballroom. Unfortunately, most of the invited guests consisted of Malfoy’s allies, so Turias’s selection of like-minded, friendly peers was quite limited. He was fairly certain that the others felt the exact same way towards him and Alex. Needless to say, everyone was unhappy with the arrangement.

          “Velvet. Custom-made by Madame Padgett," supplied Turais distractedly as he gave Orion a small wave from across the room. 

          Rosier glanced at Turais and asked doubtfully, “And how would you know?”

          “We have the same set at home,” Turais said. “Only in green.”

          “No wonder it's too Muggle-looking for my taste," said Bragge as he slurped down his butterbeer messily.

          Turais bit down on his lower lip and valiantly stopped himself from hexing the lot of them. He reminded himself that he was now a Hogwarts student and would be in great trouble if he performed magic in front of all the Ministry officials.

          “Don't be rude, Bragge. Just because it is not palatable to you doesn't mean someone else might not find these decoration... louche," Rosier said as he stared at Turais darkly. From the corner of his eyes, Turais saw Bellatrix wipe her index finger across the table top and examined her finger carefully.

          “I think I have had enough of their passive aggression,” Turais mumbled through his fixed lips into Alex's ear. They both still had polite smiles on their faces as they nodded to various guests that shot a glance their way.

          Alex nodded immediately, clearly eager to leave as well.

          Clearing his throat noisily, Turais said, “Allow Fawley and I to take our leave."

          Without waiting for a response, they left the obnoxious gaggle of Slytherins behind and slipped out onto the dark balcony. The crescent moon shone serenely upon the dark Malfoy grounds where white peacocks dotted across the vast expanses.

          “I wonder where Jonty disappeared to,” Alex asked. “I haven't seen him since he dropped by to say hello.”

          “He's probably diving beneath tablecloths eavesdropping on all the latest gossips,” Turais laughed as his mind formulated the mental image of Jonty crawling from behind one table to the next. 

          “I can imagine that,” Alex said with a smile.

          They paced along the balcony that surrounded the Manor in companionable silence as the fresh, evening breeze blew past them with the faint scents of roses. Then, they arrived at a familiar set of doors that led to a nearby staircase down to the gardens.

          “Do you remember this place?” Turais asked as they stopped to look around. Alex nodded.

          “It's where we first met, and there -” the boy pointed at a vine-covered wall nearby, “- it was there that you rescued me from Nott.”

          “Oh, yes,” Turais smiled at the memory as he flexed his fingers subconsciously. “I knew how to place a mean punch.”

          Alex chuckled lightly as they continued on their perimeter walk, but slowly, his expression turned contemplative.

          “What do you think would have happened if you were not there to save me that day?”

          “I am sure someone else would've,” Turais replied. When Alex did not respond, Turais turned to look curiously. “You don't think so?”

          Alex bit down on his lower lip and shook his head minutely.

          “After meeting everyone in Hogwarts, I don't think anyone would've stepped in to help me,” Alex whispered. “They don’t like me for blood status… and Nott… they are afraid of him. Even if someone came across us, they would’ve joined Nott or at least not interfered with what he was doing. Every last one of them, except you...”

          Turais's grin faltered as they fell into a loaded silence.

          What if Turais was not present to rescue Alex? Well, Alex still survived seven years in Slytherin, but it was likely a vastly different experience than the one he knew of now. It was only then that Turais suddenly noticed how much of Alex's circumstances changed due to Turais's involvement.

          Turais twisted his lips into a tight smile and said, “Well, I'm glad I was there then.”

          Alex nodded silently, but did not respond further. Continuing their perimetre walk, they turned around the corner and walked into the shadow of the Manor when Turais detected a subtle disturbance nearby.

          “Turais... Black.”

          Whipping around, Turais aimed his wand at the nearby rose bushes that were rustling in the gentle breeze.

          “What is it, Turais?” Alex whispered as he sidled close to Turais anxiously.

          “N...nothing...” Turais said as he continued to scan his dark surroundings. For some reason, he felt that they were being watched by someone... or some thing... “Why don't we return to the ball?”

          Alex nodded quickly as they walked back the way they came. It was only until they started to see several couples afar that Turais felt his nerves calmed slightly.

         “S...o you s...peak.”

          At the hissing sound, Turais turned around to discover that a man with red eyes was staring at him from the shadows of a nearby column. Feeling the tendrils of magic probing at the surface of his mind, Turais immediately tore his gaze away and strengthened his mental shields quickly. The few couples closest to them were each engrossed in their own conversations and too far to hear their conversation.

          If this stranger wanted to attack him, Turais doubted that their presence would be the deterrent.

          Turais then focused on the distinctive facial features, which looked almost ethereal under the glow of the moonlight.  The immaculately styled obsidian hair, trimmed brows, and perfectly fitted robes.

          Suddenly, he caught a slight simmer directly beneath his chin.

          It was a glamour.

          Turais had an idea who was in front of him, and his blood turned cold.

          Turais decided to pretend to ignore him and continued on his way while keeping the stranger within sight. The Voldemort in front of him looked different from the Tom Riddle he had seen in Slughorn and Dumbledore’s memories, and he wasn't sure if there were other Parselmouths. 

          Then, he noticed that the stranger was following them. It seemed that a conversation with that man was unavoidable.

          “Hey Alex, do you want to go ahead first?” Turais asked nonchalantly.

          “Why?” Alex asked worriedly. “Is there something wrong?”

          “No, I just want a bit more fresh air,” Turais said.

          “We...” Alex gulped as he whispered timidly. “We... can fight t...together...”

          “It's nothing like that,” Turais said firmly. “But please head on.”

          At the unyielding tone, Alex finally gave an unwilling nod. The moment Alex disappeared through the French windows, the man approached him.

         “Interes...ting. Very interes...ting. The Black heir s...peaks...”

          Realizing that there was no point in pretending, Turais dropped his façade and said, “So you know who I am. It is but fair to ask who you are?”

          “Nobody of interest, I assure you.”

          “A nobody would not have been able to score an invitation to the Malfoy Ball. Who are you?” Turais asked again, this time with more force behind his voice.

          “Most know me by the name Lord Voldemort,” Voldemort whispered as he scrutinized Turais's unflinching expression. “Ah... I see that you know of me.”

          “The Leader of the Knights who hides beside a pseudonym,” Turais supplied. “I find myself most curious about your real name, Voldemort.”

          “That name no longer matters,” Voldemort hissed as his handsome face turned into a fiendish reptilian snarl.

          “Names are powerful and sacred in magic. Owls can find the addressed with only a name, a Tracking charm works though the utterance of the name of one’s target, blood magic and wards are tied intricately to the family name. I am surprised that you would be so careless to think, even for a moment, that your birth name does not matter , unless… you are not well-versed in the pureblood Wizarding traditions...”

          For a moment, Turais feared that he had pushed too far as Voldemort’s magic flared. But fortunately, it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. A pregnant pause descended in the air between them.

          “You're not afraid of me,” Voldemort commented. There was even a hint of amusement in the voice.

          “Why? Should I be?”

          “Spoken like a natural leader...” Voldemort's silky, tenor voice said in a whisper-like quality. “No wonder Lord Black has refused to extend his hand to me for a worthy alliance. It is because he has you. It was your existence that dissuaded him of the idea of an alliance.”

          “I am neither your friend nor foe, Voldemort. My loyalty is to my family and my family alone,” Turais said firmly. He could not afford to have Voldemort set his targets on the Blacks, especially not before he could destroy all the Horcruxes. “And I seek no quarrel with you. As long as you do not move against us or harm our members, I will not interfere with your machinations.”

          He could see Voldemort’s mind spinning in calculation. After a long moment of consideration, he said, “I have not met someone like you in a long time, Turais Black, someone worthy of my attention. I accept your offer but I will keep a close watch on you.”

           ‘I would not expect any less from you,’ Turais thought bitterly, although he mentally released as shuddering breath of relief for averting a crisis. But he would have to be careful when he was in Hogwarts. Any of the future Death Eaters could be a potential spy for Voldemort to track his movements. It was then that he felt gladdened that he had destroyed the Horcrux in the Room of Requirement already.

 

***

 

          “My Lords, would you excuse my Grandfather for just a moment?” Turais asked when he approached his grandfather, who was currently in a conversation with Lords Greengrass and Selwyn.

          His grandfather turned to him and raised an eyebrow, but acquiesced at the request. He pardoned himself from the conversation and followed Turais to an empty side chamber and closed the door behind him. As he was about to pull out his wand, Arcturus had already started to cast the standard anti-eavesdropping spells as well as a Muffliato charm around the duo. 

          “What is it, Turais?” His grandfather spoke once he put his wand away. “It better be something of importance.”

          “I just spoke to Voldemort.”

          “He is at the party?” Arcturus looked surprised. “I did not see anyone unusual.” 

          “He was under a glamour, grandfather. Perhaps under Lord Malfoy’s personal invitation, or perhaps posing as an aide to an official,” Turais said. “And he spoke of a potential alliance with the Blacks that was turned down by you, Grandfather.”

          “Indeed, I have formally declined his request for an alliance. I believe Voldemort will soon turn his attention to the Malfoys if he wishes to gain influence in Ministry politics,” Arcturus commented, “I'll not be surprised if Abraxas extended an invitation to him.” 

          Turais nodded and continued, “But my point is, he spoke to me in Parseltongue and was most interested in my ability.”

          “Voldemort is a Parselmouth?” Arcturus let out a genuinely surprised gasp. “He must have been a descendant of Slytherin then, but their lines have gone extinct. The last Gaunt was reported dead decades ago. Unless, he has gained the power spontaneously like you.”

          “That would be highly unlikely. However, I believe he could have been a bastard child harboured by the Gaunts,” Turais was planting the seeds of suspicion regarding Voldemort’s origin in his grandfather’s mind. “Maybe not a son of Morfin Gaunt for there is currently no one who claims the Gaunt name. But perhaps his sister, Merope Gaunt.”

          “I will have to look into this more deeply. But if what you are saying is true, then this changes things for us. This Lord Voldemort will have a genuine claim to be the heir of Slytherin and can sway many more minds in his favour. However, he has not revealed his parentage despite the obvious rewards. At least not publicly. So why?” Arcturus frowned in brows, deep in thought. “Unless…”

          “Unless he has something to hide. Yes, grandfather. I suspect that he is not of pure blood. If his followers were to know that he was a half-blood, he will quickly lose the favour of many but his most loyal supporters. I think it would be prudent to seek out the information discreetly so we may one day find it useful," Turais suggested as Acturus considered. "How long would it take for you to uncover the information, Grandfather?”

          Turais knew the only way Arcturus would ever truly believe a story was if he found it out on his own.

          “Information of this nature is often well-hidden and obscured from view," Arcturus responded thoughtfully, "Especially when it concerns bloodlines. It might take years of careful and costly investigation to confirm their identities. That's why the wizarding community is still so fixated on rumours about potential heirs and newly-introduced family members. We simply have no way of confirming their legitimacy unless they reach emancipation of their Lordship and receive their inheritance or Wizengamot seats...

          “What else did he talk to you about?”

          “There's nothing else,” Turais said.

          “Very well,” Arcturus said. Then, he clasped a firm hand on Turais's shoulder and looked down at him with a fierce determination. “It was unnaturally bold for Voldemort to seek out a prominent heir like yourself in such a secretive manner. But that highlights your importance, especially to your family and your alliance.

         “Turais, contrary to what you might believe, my health is in decline. And soon, my influence will as well. You are the one that our allies are rallying around now - the idea of a powerful future Lord Black - one that is more influential than even me,” Arcturus said solemnly without a hint of irony or ridicule, “Our allies are investing in your future, which is what deters them from switching sides. You , Turais, are the most important asset on our side and you must be impeccable while keeping yourself firmly away from harm. You must be vigilant and trust no one.

         “This four-way war has barely begun and our family must persevere until the bitter end, whenever that may be.”

 

***

 

         After Easter holiday came the final months of Turais’s first year. During this time, he further cemented his position as one of the leading Slytherins outside of Malfoy's established circle. The Slytherins, even the older students, grew more respectful and yielded to his status. However, Turais made a point to not abuse his new-found power and instead, remained as helpful and approachable as always. The other first-year Slytherins all looked up to him as their benevolent leader and Turais tried his best to deliver on that front.

         Turais was also glad that Bellatrix was due to graduate from Hogwarts, meaning that he would no longer be in her presence. However, the knowledge that she would soon join the Death Eaters weighed heavily on his mind.

         In the school at large, Turais’s influence continued to grow as the first-years from other Houses also gravitated towards him. With the exception of a few older students, most did not prohibit the first-years from their Houses from associating themselves with Turais, and by extension, Alex and Jonty, because they were “the rare, right sort of Slytherin.” Turais knew this was the best he could do as the change could only occur in increments.

         The staff were also equally taken by the brightest first-year student they had ever seen. In their eyes, Turais was the model student who took care of all students without discrimination of blood purity or House. This, of course, was with the exception of Professor Dumbledore, who continued to look at him with guarded suspicion. However, Turais always avoided crossing his path and so far, he had been successful at avoiding any exchange of stares or words, let alone a confrontation.

         Now, Turais was sitting at the Slytherin table at the end-of-year feast. The Great Hall was decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver in celebration of Slytherin’s first win for the house cup in seven years. Professor Slughorn caught Turais’ gaze and motioned a cheers in his honour. Turais had no doubt that he and Alex were the top house-points earners for their house. 

         Just as the students were starting to grumble about the late start to the feast, Dumbledore arrived.

         “What an incredible year this has been! Before you head back to your homes for the summer, I hope your heads are a little fuller than they were when you arrived… before you get them empty once more before the next year starts.

         “Now, for the awarding of the house cup. In fourth place, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and ninety points; in third, Gryffindor, with four hundred and ten points; in second we have Hufflepuff with four hundred and forty-two points while Slytherin comes up on top with five hundred and three points. Congratulations to Slytherin House!”

         Cheering and shouting erupted from the Slytherin table and Turais received numerous pats on the back from his fellow housemates. As the golden House Cup was handed over to the beaming Horace Slughorn, the cheering crescendo-ed to a maximum. 

         Professor McGonagall shook hands stiffly with the jubilant Slytherin Head while placing her other hand on silver Quidditch Cup as though she sought relief through physically contacting with at least one of the two trophies that had made residence in her office for the past several years.

         Although Slytherins did not win the Inter-House Quidditch Cup this year (as a matter of fact, the last time they have won it was a decade ago), Turais would make sure that they snagged that trophy as well for the Slytherins next year, with him as the Seeker of course. He felt a bit of guilt towards Professor McGonagall and the Gryffindors... but he now played from the competing team and… well, he earned her both Cups multiple times in his previous timeline so she really shouldn’t complain that much (even if she had no recollection of them).

         Turais smiled inwardly to himself. He was surrounded by two amazing friends and many more acquaintances in the Slytherin House. Next year was shaping up to be an amazing year.

         Exam results soon came and Turais was, to no one’s surprise, the top of his class as he gained Outstandings for all his classes. Pierricoeur came in second with one Exceeds Expectations and Alex came in third with all Outstandings except for two Exceeds Expectations in History of Magic and Astronomy. This result caused some grumbling from a few Ravenclaws who vowed to dethrone Turais next year. Pierricoeur, on the other hand, brought that animosity to the extreme by giving him the death glare every time they crossed paths. But it really didn’t deviate much from his normal behaviour, so Turais ignored it all the same.

          Just as Turais thought the year would end without any more incidents, he was immediately proven wrong.

          It was the second-last week of the school term when everyone was enjoying their final days at Hogwarts before summer. Turais was walking back to the Slytherin common room from Slug Club after curfew when the secret doorway opened suddenly as light flooded the halls. Turais immediately stopped in his tracks to observed from afar in the shadows of a nearby alcove.

          A girl who wore a dark, long shawl and had her hood over her head, glanced both ways before walking hurriedly towards Turais's hiding spot. Moments later, the common room entrance opened once more as two more pairs of footsteps clambered out to the chilly corridor.

          “Andy...” a sweet voice dripping with poison sang out melodiously. “Where... are you going...?”

          The hooded girl stopped dead in her tracks as fear flashed across her face. Then, she schooled her facial muscles into an emotionless, blank stare before turning around.

          “Bella,” Andromeda said curtly, facing her two sisters. The door closely shut as the corridor returned to a dim glow illuminated only by the flickering torches mounted high up the columns. “Cissy.”

          Bellatrix's voice turned sharp as she barked, “Answer my question, Andromeda!”

          “I was unable to sleep so I was planning to go on a midnight stro-”

          “You are going to meet that mudblood, aren't you?” Bellatrix interrupted as she cooed maliciously. “What's his name... Edward Tonks... wasn't it, Cissy?”

          “Y...yes...” Narcissa muttered.

          There was an audible gasp as Andromeda looked at Narcissa, who ducked her head, “Cissy, how could you -”

          “Don't look away!” Bellatrix shrieked at Narcissa as she forcefully turned her sister's cheeks upwards. Whispering gently into her ear, she said, “You did well, Cissy.”

          Bellatrix's dangerous smile towards Andromeda twisted into a wicked leer as she snarled, “This woman in front of us should be the one who feels shame! She defiled herself and her name for a mudblood!

          Andromeda waited under Bellatrix was finished before calmly stating, “I do not know who you are referring to.”

          “Ooh... how interesting... She denies knowledge of the boy...” Bellatrix cackled as she strolled towards Andromeda with her crooked Walnut wand twirling in her hands. When Bellatrix was standing next to her younger sister, she suddenly thrusted her wand under Andromeda's jaw and hissed, “She lies...”

          “I did not lie,” Andromeda replied coolly. She sounded completely unfazed and, even, slightly bored.

          “Cissy!” Bellatrix shrieked as Turais winced at the sound. “Where did you say they were going to meet tonight?”

          “The... the Astronomy Tower...” said Narcissa shakily as she stared at Andromeda with tears glistening in her eyes.

          Bellatrix smiled gleefully as she traced Andromeda's clenched jaws with the tip of her wand. “So... who would I see if I were to head up to the Astronomy Tower now...?”

          “No one -”

          “Shut up! You have no right to talk!” Bellatrix shouted with crazed eyes bulging from the sockets. Then, she quietened and cooed sweetly, “Oh... what is a gift worthy for a mudblood...? A little... Blood-Boiling Curse, perhaps? Or... should I send a quick Crucio? Wait, perhaps a Silencing charm first because I do not want to taint my ears with his pitiful screams...” 

          Andromeda was visibly vibrating with anger and Bellatrix's leer widened as she continued, “Maybe... maybe should I cast an Imperio and make him jump off the tow-” 

          There was a bright flash of red light and Andromeda's back slammed against the opposite wall as her wand clattered onto the floor uselessly.

          “You dared to fight against me, you wretched - Who's there?!”

          Bellatrix whipped around and shot a curse towards Turais, who dove to the ground. She immediately shot another curse towards him, forcing him to roll further down the corridor.

          “Stop fighting!” Narcissa cried out from behind Turais but neither of them paid her any attention.

          But then, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Narcissa rummaging for her wand. Turais blocked a Spell from Bellatrix and quickly shot a Disarming Spell at the youngest sister.

          “Expelliarmus!” Turais shouted before he sidestepped an angry curse that streaked by his waist.

          “Cissy, don't! ” Bellatrix roared as well, clearing intending for this fight to resolve their issue. She magicked the flames from the nearby torches and hurled them towards Turais through the air like snakes.

          However, Turais quickly contained them in front of him and slowly brandished his wand in a large circular motion.

          “Scutifors!” He shouted. And soon, a fiery barrier formed in front of him as it absorbed and scattered Bellatrix’s incoming curses.

          “How nice of you to join us, cousin Turais?!” Bellatrix cackled as she continued to fire off curses at Turais. “So you know about Andy's dirty little secret!”

          However, Turais did not respond to the taunt as he merely blocked another curse and grunted out his own spells.

          “Avis multum! Oppugno!

          A large flock of birds appeared as Turais directed them towards Bellatrix.

          “Repello!”

          Turais immediately dove in the opposite direction as all the birds flew over his position and smashed into the wall, disappearing into a cloud of yellow feathers. He transfigured the wall of fire into a round, bronze shield and flung it towards Bellatrix like a discus. 

          “Flipendo!

          Bellatrix barely sidestepped the flying shield when she realized that Turais had taken advantage of her distraction to transform the fluttering feathers into dozens of black truncheons that were now streaking towards her.

          “Protego! ” 

          The girl formed a weak, flickering blue shield that barely managed to scatter the sticks as they formed loud, pinging sounds upon contact.

          “Finestra Circumdo !” 

          In Turais’s rapid-fire spells, the truncheons pulverized into a dense cloud of fine, black particles. Then, Turais immediately directed the wave of particles with a large circular motion and enveloped Bellatrix in an artificial, swirling dust storm.

          Over the sound of whipping wind and scattering sand, he heard Bellatrix groan out, “Repello! Evanesco!

          Red and indigo lights flashed through the cocoon of black particles. However, there were simply too many particles for Bellatrix to repel or vanish effectively. 

          “Homenum Aggrappa!

          The wind suddenly died as the cloud of dust condensed and agglomerated towards Bellatrix, covering her entire body in black dust. She shrieked as she tried to scrub the particles on her face and across her closed eyes frantically.

          “Incarcerous!

          A long thick rope rushed towards Bellatrix as she was pulled down onto the ground with her wand arm immobilized firmly against the hard surface. Andromeda had also propped herself up against the wall, wary of her sisters.

          “Bella!” Narcissa cried as she ran up and knelt beside her tied-up sister. However, Bellatrix continued to stare loathingly at Turais.

          “You!” Bellatrix seethed and struggled against the restraint to no avail.

          “I won,” Turais spoke in a menacing tone. “You lost. For the second time this year, you have attacked the Black heir at school. And even worse, once was when my back was turned.”

          “Why you - ” Bellatrix spoke before Narcissa interrupted her.

          “We do apologize for her actions, cousin Turais,” Narcissa interrupted as she bowed her head at Turais.

          “Cissy, I will not -”

          “This will not happen again. You have my word,” Narcissa said quickly while staring at Turais's boots. “Please... allow this matter to be resolved here and now.”

          “Cissy! That hag there -”

          “I need reassurance. Collateral,” Turais said coldly. “I do not trust Bellatrix to not seek out and harm cousin Andromeda or Edward Tonks on her own.”

          Narcissa stilled for a brief moment before she took off her spider earrings with trembling hands and offered it to Turais.

          “T...These earrings are family heirlooms from my grandmother... your maternal grandmother, Irma,” Narcissa said shakily.

          “Is this true?” Turais asked Andromeda.

          She nodded curtly and said, “Yes.”

          “Then I hope your word is good, cousin Narcissa,” Turais said. “This incident will be conveniently forgotten and absent from my letters to grandfather. But if any incident were to arise, my memory might just return.”

          “How dare -”

          “Of course, cousin Turais. I agree completely,” Narcissa spoke smoothly before Bellatrix could get another word out of her mouth. “Blood is what matters most.”

          Turais nodded at Narcissa and took the pair of earrings.

          “Bella, you have two weeks left in Hogwarts before you can leave and go on your merry way to greatness, marry Lestrange, and do whatever you please. But before then, you’re still a Black, and we Blacks never attack one another. See to it, cousins.”

          Turais looked at Narcissa, who nodded. Then, he turned to a fuming Bellatrix. She looked at him with eyes filled with hatred, but she clenched her jaw and nodded. Finally, Turais looked up to Andromeda, who nodded at him with gratefulness in her eyes.

Chapter 16: Interlude - First Year in Review (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

This is the first part and the interlude of this week's update. Enjoy!

- ravenclawblues 2019-11-28

Chapter Text


CHAPTER SIXTEEN

INTERLUDE - FIRST YEAR IN REVIEW


 

 

          Two weeks passed by quickly and Turais quickly found himself on the Hogwarts Express heading back to London. As the scenery of trees and fields were slowly replaced by concrete and buildings, Turais grinned widely in his seat, daydreaming about what he would do with his brothers for two whole months. If Alex’s relationship with Sirius and Regulus during the Easter break was any indication, Turais was sure that he would become an honorary Black by the time school term started again.

          He felt something hard smacked against his skull. “Turais! You are evicted from this compartment!” Jane said with a smirk.

          “Unhand me, young lady!”

          “Not a crazy Gryffindor anymore?” Jane asked cheekily. “Wipe off that grin on your face, Turais. You look like a lovesick boy who is going to see his crush after being two months apart.”

          “Let him be, Jane, Turais always goes crazy where his brothers are involved. You’ve seen worse on the train ride back last winter. Now, that  was carsickness-inducing horribleness,” Alice smiled at the memory.

          “Yeah, I don’t even know how he managed to survive without them for all these months from the way he acts around them sometimes. They are inseparable, those three,” Alex said as he shook his head. “You’ve got to see it to understand it.”

          “Are all of you going to the Quidditch World Cup in Canada this year?” Turais asked while pointedly ignoring all the comments.

          “Oh, definitely!” Gerald yelled. “I’m sure England will win it this time!”

          “People say that every time, and I have yet to see it happen once,” Jonty quipped.

          Turais searched his memories for information regarding the winner of the 1970 Quidditch World Cup finals. Was it Liechtenstein or England, Canada or Syria? Turais couldn't say for sure.

          “Well, it’s different this time because Royston Idlewind has finally retired! But I’m just sad that I never got to see him in action…” Gerald said.

          “Who’s Royston Idolwine?” Alice asked. She turned to look at Jane, who shrugged.

          “Muggleborn here, remember?" Jane said with an eyeroll.

          The boys looked at the two girls as though they suddenly changed into two large, yellow canary birds.

          “What? Surely you know who Royston Idlewind is?” Gerald asked incredulously. “He is only  the World’s Best Chaser, that’s who. He led the Australian Quidditch Team to victory four years ago.”

          “Yeah, although I don’t like him because he hates crowds. Honestly, which Quidditch player on Earth would hate their fans for supporting them?” Jonty said.

          “I heard rumours that he has a high chance of becoming the next International Director of the ICWQC…” Turais said. All the boys shuddered at the thought while the girls looked at him blankly. “International Confederation of Wizards Quidditch Committee.”

          “Why is he so bad?” Jane asked.

          “Well, he’s just a damn stickler for the rules. So he’s no fun. He reminds me a little of you, Alice,” Gerald spoke as Alice whacked him with her book.

          “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m watching for -” Turais began to say.

          “Catherine Westermont, we know, Turais,” Alex rolled his eyes and Turais scoffed. “She is the best-est Seeker in the whole wide world and you are in love with her. I’m glad she is chosen as the Seeker for the English team or else I would not hear the end of this one.”

          Turais ignored his friends’ teases and taunts and turned to Jane. “The final match is happening late August this year, so I can ask my father to get extra tickets if you want to go, Jane?” Jane did not look too impressed so Turais tried to explain again.

          “It’s a big deal, Jane. This is the Wizarding equivalent of the FIFA World Cup,” Turais said. This time Jane’s face lit up with recognition.

          “Oh, that! Now, I’m interested,” Jane spoke with an interested spark in her eyes.

          There was a rap on the compartment door and the group turned to look at the dark silhouette that was standing in the corridor.

          It was Narcissa.

          Her lips were pressed into a thin line as her stern gaze scanned the sight before her. Then, she honed her attention onto Turais.

          “Everyone, please excuse me,” Turais said while looking back at his cousin firmly.

          Once the door was shut behind him, Narcissa wordlessly led Turais to the back of the train where her sisters were. They were standing two arm lengths away from each other while facing the window. However, neither of them were looking at the scenery before them as they kept a wary gaze on each other.

          At the sound of the approaching footsteps, they turned to face the newcomer.

          “Cousin Turais,” Narcissa spoke softly. “We have kept our end of the bargain. Two weeks have passed without any incident. Now, I would like you to return something of mine.”

          “Quite so,” Turais said lowly. He narrowed his gaze at Bellatrix’s hostile demeanour as he took out the jewelry and placed them onto Narcissa’s upturned palm. Narcissa quickly examined them before putting them away for safe-keeping as Turais continued, “I wish to speak with Andromeda in private.”

          “Did you think I would allow that?” Bellatrix hissed menacingly as she walked out and towered over Turais. “Leaving two blood traitors together and -”

          “I will speak with Andromeda, Narcissa,” Turais interrupted. Bellatrix's cheeks coloured at the blatant disregard of her authority. “And I am prepared to sweep aside any objections as I did two weeks ago.”

          “You! -

          “We will not want to risk a similar incident on the train,” Narcissa interrupted urgently as she gripped Bellatrix's forearm tightly. Then, she gave Turais a cold smile and said, “Of course, cousin Turais. We will be waiting down the hall.”

          Turais ensured that the two sisters were out of earshot before he turned to Andromeda.

          “I haven't had a chance to properly thank you yet,” Andromeda said regretfully as she glanced down the corridor in constant alert.

          “Don't mention it, Andy. The two of us must stick together and support one another,” Turais said as they shared a small smile. Then, Turais turned sombre as he asked urgently, “Will you be safe? I can ask my father to let you stay over summer?”

          Andromeda took Turais's hand and squeezed it gently. “I appreciate the concern, Turais, but I will be able to fend for myself.”

          “Not if your sisters tell the rest of the family about Tonks,” Turais hissed darkly. “It will not be a hard decision for them to make, and there is no way I can protect you if it happens.”

          “I appreciate the concern, Turais,” Andromeda said softly. “But I know them well. Narcissa will not tell anyone else, and neither will Bellatrix, particularly not this summer as she will be busy preparing for her wedding with Lestrange. If anything, she will be actively avoiding any complications on her way to gain independence from this family. And my secret is a huge complication.”

          Turais eyed Andromeda worriedly before he sighed, “I expected you to say as much.”

          Rummaging his pocket, Turais revealed two shiny Galleons and placed one in Andromeda's hand, “This pair of fake Galleons are linked. Do you see the numerals around the edge of the coin? You just need to tap the side and mutter the phrase that you desire and it will appear on the other Galleon as well.” Turais demonstrated it once and Andromeda's eyes widened as the coin in her hand spelt out the test phrase. Another tap on the coin reverted the phrase back into a series of inconspicuous numerals.

          “What kind of magic is this?” Andromeda gasped. 

          “You'll learn it soon enough,” Turais said about the N.E.W.T standard charm. “If you ever run into any trouble... anything at all. Please let me know at once and I will come to your aid.”

          “Turais...”

          “This is for my peace of mind,” Turais insisted as he folded Andromeda's finger over the coin. 

          Andromeda nodded and gave him a grateful smile.

          As they returned to the awaiting sisters, Turais issued a vague warning.

          “I have ensured that if Andromeda ever encounters any issue, I will be automatically notified of it at once. So, see to it that she stays healthy and unharmed.”

          Without further explanation, Turais left the Black sisters and strolled off to his compartment. And soon after, the train signaled its arrival at the station. 

          “Hey, remember to write to me -” Jane said excitedly, but then suddenly frowned. “ - Actually, I think my neighbours would find it odd that several owls are perched on our roof all the time.”

          “Why don’t you give us your telephone number?” Turais asked as he pulled down Jane’s trunk for her. 

          “Yeah, we can call you,” said Alex.

          “Right, brill.” Jane quickly rummaged for a spare piece of parchment and scribbled down a series of numbers.

          “What’s …. a fella-tone?” Gerald scrunched up his nose at the numbers. “And is this a communication spell?”

          Jonty pulled out his wand and chanted, “0-7-9-1-”

          Jane snatched the slip of paper from Jonty’s hand and stuffed it in Turais’s hand instead. 

          “Never mind, just owl.”

          Jonty flushed red at the blatant snub.

Chapter 17: A Love Called Family (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I hope everyone that celebrated Thanskgiving had an amazing time with friends, family, and loved ones! And happy long weekend for those who are taking Friday off as well.

There was a hidden Potter (not James or his mother, Euphemia) cameo in this story already. Let me know if you have spotted him!

This is part two and the full chapter for this week's update! Enjoy!

- ravenclawblues 2019-11-30

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A LOVE CALLED FAMILY


 

          It was an ordinary summer day as Turais woke up early per usual and headed to the kitchen. When he passed by Sirius’s bedroom, he heard a loud snore that tore through the silence and Turais had to muffle his amused snort. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he found that Kreacher was already putting out ingredients that, Turais recognized, was part of his regular breakfast that he always requested.

          “Good morning, Kreacher,” Turais said cheerfully.

          “Master Turais has risen early as usual. What an upstanding young man he is,” Kreacher complimented him as he shuffled slowly, hunch-backed, across the kitchen and reached for the drawers stacked with pans. “Would Master prefer his regular breakfast?”

          “Yes, please,” Turais said pleasantly as he turned his attention to the stack of letters at the corner of the table. Curious, he shuffled through them. There were posts from Gringotts and from family acquaintances such as the MacMillans, Selwyns, and Sayres. At the bottom of the pile was a letter addressed to the Black family household with the Lestrange family crest and seal - it was the wedding invitation for Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. 

          Turais shivered at the prospect of attending the wedding. But considering that Arcturus and Pollux’s relationship had never recovered from the all-time low after Walburga’s eviction, Turais favoured his chances of being able to avoid that dreadful engagement.

          “Here is Master Turais’s breakfast,” Kreacher announced as he charmed the piping, hot breakfast from the kitchen counter to the table.

          “Thank you, Kreacher,” Turais said, “I always tell others in Hogwarts that Kreacher makes the best breakfast in the world.”

          Kreacher’s normally droopy ears lifted slightly at the praise. He bowed before croaking, “Master is always so kind, too kind.”

          “Well, I give praise where praise is due, Kreacher. No need to be too humble. You have always served our family well, remember that,” Turais said as Kreacher bowed again as he walked away with an increased sense of levity. Turais smiled. He knew exactly what would make Kreacher happy, and it was to appeal to his sense of honour to have served the Blacks properly. And he knew there was a kind, fragile soul despite the hardened layers from centuries of Black family treatment.

          Just as Turais was about to eat his first bite of breakfast, two barn owls flew through the window above and landed on the kitchen table beside his plate.

          “Our Hogwarts letters!” A sleep-wrinkled Alex exclaimed as he walked through the door and ran to untie the Hogwarts letters from the owls’ legs.

          All Turais could think now was that he had an excuse to ask Orion to buy him an actual broom! Thrumming with excitement, Turais ran up the stairs to his father’s room and banged on his door.

          “Father, wake up!” Turais shouted in between knocks. When Orion opened the door, Turais immediately said,  “Our Hogwarts letter has arrived. Can you buy me a broom, please? Please! I want to try out for Seeker for the house team this year!”

          “Alright! Alright!” Orion laughed at Turais’s pleading, puppy-eye look.

          “YES!” Turais shouted as Sirius and Regulus climbed down the stairs to join them. “Siri! Reggie! I’m going to have a racebroom!”

          Turais jumped up and down ecstatically as his brothers did the same beside him, equally as excited.

          “Can I have a turn?”

          “Me too! Me too!”

          “Of course! Father, can we go buy it today? I already know which one I want - The Nimbus 1700! It’s the best broom in the market, way better than Comets and Cleansweeps.”

          “Okay! But you all know the rules, breakfast -”

          “ - at least two eggs, one piece of toast, and a glass of juice! We know, father!” The brothers said simultaneously, much to his father’s mild annoyance and amusement.

          “ - that and your dress robes for the family portrait.” Orion announced as Sirius groaned and slapped his hands over his face.

          “Is this going to be a family tradition,” Orion asked amusedly. “Being woken up by a Black on the first of July? Sirius will receive his Hogwarts letter next year and Regulus’s the year after, I doubt I will get any sleep on either those days either.”

          “Yes, it is,” Turais grinned.

 

***

 

          The Black household opened the door of the Stutterbutton’s Photography Studio to a strong whiff of gunpowder and a haze of purple mist. Sirius gagged aloud and stuck his tongue out, which formed an expression that completely contradicted the immaculately prepared appearance of robes and proper pureblood grooming. Turais stifled a laugh as his father smacked Sirius on the head gently for his display.

          “Sirius, please try to act appropriately,” Orion shook his head in exasperation as he tried to readjust the tie which Sirius had once again tugged off-center. “I just want one nice family portrait this year.”

           Every year, Orion brought his sons to take an albumful of family portraits. While Turais was entirely supportive of the idea for he never had a chance to experience this in his original timeline with his parents, Sirius had made it an absolute chore for Orion to convince him to don his dress robes properly.

          “Come on, Siri. I want a good portrait of all of us so I can bring it to Hogwarts with me this year as well,” Turais said as he nudged at his fidgeting brother. When there was no response, Turais went in for the kill with his puppy-eyes and pouty lips and whined, “ Please ?”

          Sirius looked at his older brother’s pitiful looks and surrendered. He sighed dramatically while saying, “Fine… just one .”

          “One good portrait. No weird faces or poses or messing up your clothes. I’ll get father to buy us ice cream after. Deal?” Turais bargained. He thought the deal was pretty good for Sirius.

          Sirius perked up at the mention of ice cream but still pretended to consider for a moment before nodding and stopped moving. Turais grinned at Orion, whose eyes filled with relief as he could finally fix Sirius’s outfit on a still body.

          “Ah, Master Black, the annual family portraits?” Mr Shuttermeyer greeted. He had been in charge of their photo shoot since they were babies. He definitely had noticed the disappearance of Walburga from the family portrait, but he never mentioned anything. However, his eyes did widen at Alex, whom he had never met before. “Who is this young gentleman?” 

          “Mr Shuttermeyer. This is Alexander Fawley, a school friend of my eldest.”

          “Pleasure to meet a Fawley. I haven’t seen Mr Fawley in a long time,” the man supplied pleasantly.

          Alex’s expression did not betray any of his emotions. However, Turais saw the slight tensing of his shoulders at the mention of his father.

          “Sir, in addition to the usual, I will need an individual portrait as well,” Turais stepped in, removing the focus on his friend.

          “Of course, young Mr Black,” the man said as he guided them into the studio set-up. “Now, would you mind stepping up and taking the individual portrait first?” Mr Shuttermeyer gestured Turais and he stepped into the set. “Let’s do the standard three-second series of six.”

          Turais settled on the stool as he followed the photographer’s every instruction. He was determined to pose for the perfect shot, however, Sirius was equally as determined to sabotage all of his shots. 

          Click…

          Sirius made a silly duck face which failed to elicit a response from his older brother, who was smiling pleasantly, albeit, slightly stoically, at the camera.

          Snap! Click…

          Sirius made a weird chicken clucking sound with a cross-eyed look. Turais barely smothered his laughter.

          Snap! Click…

          Turais’s defenses crumbled and he laughed without inhibition.

          Snap! Click…

          Turais managed to school his expression back into a controlled smile but he felt his jaw muscle twitching.

          Snap! Click…

          Turais shot an angry glare at Sirius, who brought a very realistic imitation of a dying flobberworm, and glanced back to smiled pleasantly at the camera.

          Snap! Click…

          Turais stood up and left the studio to strangle said banshee-shrieking flobberworm off-camera…

          Snap!

          “Well, I think we’ve managed to get at least one good one,” Orion said to Mr Shuttermeyer dryly as he glanced insouciantly at his eldest son’s half-hearted fratricide attempt on his middle son. Turais’s fingers were wrapped around Sirius’s neck as he pretended to strangle him while Sirius screamed bloody murder. The corner of Mr Shuttermeyer’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I would like two small copies and one large framed copy of all the photos as well as the negatives.”

          “Of course, Mr Black,” the photographer while looking at Regulus, who now joined the fray and tugged at Sirius’s robes to mess up his outfit. “Your children are as lively as always.”

          “That’s an understatement, I’m afraid,” Orion allowed a small smile. “We can take the family portrait next, but please allow me a few moments to fix my second son’s outfit again .”

          The Black family miraculously managed to have not one, but three acceptable family portraits, including one where Alex stood by Turais as he smiled shyly while waving his hand at the camera.

 

***

 

          “Are you certain you don’t want to purchase a broomstick, Alex?” Turais asked Alex as they were waiting for the shopkeeper to return from the storage with Turais’s brand-new Nimbus 1700. Alex was still holding onto the picture that he was part of and looking at it as though it contained the secrets of the universe. Turais knew the feeling, so he let his best friend be.

          After gathering all their school supplies, they had finally reached the main attraction of this shopping trip - broomstick shopping. Orion was in the back of the store looking at Puddlemere United memorabilia with his brothers.

          After a minute, Alex responded as though Turais had just asked the question, “No, I think I am okay, Turais. I don’t really enjoy it that much. Also, I have something else I wanted to buy...” His eyes were still glued to the photo and Turais barely suppressed a grin.

          “But I saw you in flying lessons last year. You were brilliant and flying loops around Mister William,” Turais countered.

          “I’ll just stick with my books safely on the ground,” Alex said with a sense of finality as he tore his gaze from the photo for once and placed it carefully into his inner pocket.

          “If you insist… but you are always welcome to borrow my broom if you ever want to,” Turais shrugged. “Also, we should go check out the service kits and Charm books for Quidditch players. And I would also like an actual Snitch - not a toy one - that I can practice Seeking with.”

          Quality Quidditch Supplies had always been Turais’s favourite shop in Diagon Alley. He glanced around the shop at the broomsticks on display and smelled the familiar scents of broom polish and dry twigs. He then laid eyes on the Nimbus 1700 that was in the window display that gleamed brilliantly under the showcase lighting - the broom that he would be getting his hands on very soon. 

          As usual, young faces were pressed up against the window panes as the children looked at the broom longingly. Amongst them, Turais easily identified the boy with distinct messy, black hair and glasses - a face he had seen in the mirror for many years in a past timeline long ago.

          James Fleamont Potter.

          Just as he was lost in his thoughts, he realized that the pair of hazel eyes were staring straight back at him through the window. Flustered, Turais looked back at the counter where the shopkeeper finally returned with two broomsticks that looked identical in shape and size except for the tail end twigs.

          Both broomsticks were handsomely built and reflected the sleek and agile designs that Turais loved about Nimbus. The broom handles were made of mahogany, which provided the light brown colour that was reminiscent of the Nimbus 2000, and coupled with Goblin-made iron crossbars and finishings. On both broomsticks, the tail end twigs were straight and converged neatly at the tip. However, the twigs on one broomstick was of a darker brown colour while the other was of a creamier beige colour.

          “Is the broom with the darker brown twigs made of mahogany-hazel and the other one made of mahogany-birch?” Turais asked, referring to the handle and twigs. The shopkeeper looked surprised at his knowledge.

          “Yes, Mr Black. Hazel will provide more precision in turning while birch, which is the newest offering from Nimbus, will provide a faster ascension,” he confirmed.

          “I would like the mahogany-birch broomstick, please.”

          “Thank you, Mr Black. How will you be paying?” The man asked politely.

          “My father will be paying for it,” Turais said and then turned to shout towards the back of the store. “Father!

          Orion emerged from a nearby aisle and proceeded to conclude the transaction. Turais turned his head back to the window display only to find James Potter still staring at him with mild jealousy.

          “What does he want?” Sirius appeared beside him, crossing his arms while narrowing his eyes at the boy outside. Sirius clearly remembered James from last year.

          “He was staring at me purchasing the broom, Siri. He is just jealous,” Turais said calmly as he saw James wave at Sirius. “Many young boys want a racebroom, myself included. He means no harm.”

          “He better not. I won’t forgive him for insulting our family last year,” Sirius scowled at the boy, who stopped waving and was clearly taken aback by the amount of spite on the second brother’s face.

          “All done, Turais! Your very own broom!” Turais turned away from the window and saw Orion holding the perfectly-wrapped broomstick horizontally with both hands. Turais took the broomstick carefully and curled his fingers around the broom handle. The familiar feeling of joy and elation that he associated with flying immediately flooded into his heart.

          “Thank you, father,” Turais whispered reverently into the broom.

          “I also bought you the broomstick servicing kit and the Charms book for Quidditch players and a golden snitch so you can practise. They are your early birthday presents, I hope you like -”

          Turais hugged Orion around his midsection. “This is perfect. Thank you, father.”

          “Glad you like them, son,” Orion patted the back of his head gently. “Now you need to promise me to flatten the Gryffindors and win the Quidditch Cup this year.”

          “Well, that’ll be easy, father,” Turais looked up and smirked. “I will promise to catch the snitch five minutes into the game every time.”

          “I’ll hold you to your words, Turais. Now let’s head home to try out your new birch Nimbus 1700.” Orion lifted the bag of merchandise and walked away from the counter. 

          “It’s a mahogany-birch Nimbus 1700, father,” Turais said cheekily.

          “Were you getting smart  with your father, Turais?” Orion scolded with a twinkle in his eyes. “I technically bought the broomstick. I can take it back right now.”

          Orion made a move towards Turais, who jumped out of his devious attack and hugged his broomstick protectively as they left the shop. 

          “Now I want a turn on the broom too -” Orion said good-naturedly as he pushed open the front door.

          The moment Orion stepped out of the shop, a boy with skewed glasses appeared in front of him and shouted, “Hey Turais, do you remember me? I’m James Potter. I met you last year at Flourish and Blotts. Is this your new Nimbus 1700? You’re so lucky!”

          Turais eyed Orion’s playful eyes dimmed and transformed into a guarded pewter grey. 

          Turais looked at James and said, “Oh hello, James. I do remember you. This is my father, Master Black. This is my youngest brother, Regulus. And that -”

          “Sirius, I remember you!” James beamed at the boy as he adjusted his glasses. Sirius remained unmoved by the wave of positivity. “Or was it Siri, I -”

          “Don’t. Call. Me. Siri ,” Sirius growled. 

          James’s smile faltered for a moment before he shrugged it off and continued cheerily, “My cousin who is going into fifth-year told me all about you, Turais. He said you can speak to snakes and that you are super clever and super nice too!”

          Turais stopped for a moment. 

          ‘There’s another Potter at school? He must be Charlus and Dorea’s son! Charlus’s portrait at the Auror Office only mentioned him in passing. I’m glad he’s still in school next year.’

          “Oh, that’s great. What is his name?” Turais was wracking his brain to see if he had encountered a Potter.

          “He’s called Kaiden. He said he was there when you spoke to the snake and saved your grey-haired friend from the big, scary snake. He said it was so cool when you told off the other - wait a sec - you are grey-haired -” James gasped loudly as he pointed at Alex, who tensed at the sudden attention. “Are you the Alex? Wicked! Look, Kaiden said that -”

          James’s hero worship was quite entertaining if it weren’t for Orion’s disapproval rolling off his body. It was so intense that Regulus immediately snapped into attention in alarm. 

          James, who was clearly immune to the rigidity around him, continued to ramble on about the tales his cousin Kaiden told him. He clearly found everything in Hogwarts super exciting and interesting. Sirius, on the other hand, remained unimpressed as he fully embraced the infamous Black vengeance. 

          “ - and so he also said Turais Black was one of the good Slytherins -”

          “Hey! Stop pretending you think we are cool, Potter,” Sirius interrupted. “We know you think we are evil. Stay away from us.”

          “I never said -” James started to defend himself when a woman strode over calling his name.

          “James! Stop running away without telling us, there are bad wizards -” Mrs Potter stopped as she saw the Black family. 

          “Hello, Mr Black,” she said tensely as she glanced worriedly at his son, who was clearly oblivious to his mother’s concern. “I am so terribly sorry for my son’s behaviour. Please excuse him, he is very friendly.”

          Noting Orion’s stern silence, she eyed their purchases and attempted in strike up a dialogue again. She said with faked cheeriness, “I see that you shopped for a new broomstick today.”

          “Yes, Lady Potter. Now, if you would excuse us, we have a busy day ahead,” Orion said cooly.

          “Of course, Master Black. we should be heading our way as well. Say goodbye, James,” Mrs Potter nudged the bespectacled boy, who was distracted by a particularly nasty-looking plant nearby.

          “Bye, Mr Black, Turais, Sirius, Regulus. I will see you next year at Hogwarts,” James said before he was forcefully dragged away by his worried mother and disappeared into the crowd. Eyeing the lingering tension, Turais thought quickly to say something.

          “So, you have now met the prankster from last year, father.”

          “He was an… interesting boy,” Orion’s said as his demeanour relaxed once again.

          “He is quite hyperactive. But I’m sure he meant well,” Turais said.

          “As expected with the Gryffindors. Flashy, but lacking substance,” Orion said with a hint of disgust. “Let’s head back home -”

          “Uh… Mr Black,” Orion turned towards Alex. “Can I go to Fawkswind’s Boutique to pick up an item?”

          “Oh yes, of course, Alex. I totally forgot. Let us head there now.” They turned around and Turais wondered what Alex needed to get from the high-end shop at Optim Alley. But Orion distracted him from his thoughts.

          “Turais, as I was saying, want a turn on that broom that just bought,” Orion reminded Turais once again.

          “Yes, father. You can have a turn on my broom.”

 

***

 

          It was soon Turais’s twelfth birthday. Per his normal routine since the beginning of summer, he woke up early. But today, like at the beginning of this month, he could not return to sleep. So he decided to creep down the silent hallway to go down to the kitchen despite it being the break of dawn.

          Suddenly, the front door creaked open as he heard a couple of voices in a hushed whisper. Turais palmed his wand and walked quietly towards the kitchen doorway, staying out of view.

          “Please keep your voice down, Turais is a light sleeper,” Orion said softly.

          A few seconds later, he heard them pass the threshold and a creak on a loose floorboard near the door as there was a collective intake of air.

          “Sorry!” A girl’s voice squeaked followed by multiple “ Shush!”.

          Another few seconds later, he heard them inch midway to the kitchen before he heard a dull thud followed by a hiss of pain and a couple slaps on fabric. Turais could only imagine it being Gerald kicking the solid wood drawer in the hallway. He bit down on his lips to stop himself from laughing.

          Yet another few seconds later, he heard another noise, a much louder bang, but from upstairs. 

          “I overslept, darn,” Sirius said loudly.

          There was a collective groan near Turais as their subterfuge was ruined, not by one of their own, but by the eternal plan destroyer.

          “Damn it, Sirius! Turais must’ve woken up from that.” Turais was amused that Orion swore out loud, and in front of impressionable eleven and twelve-year-olds. He took care to never swear in front of them, but sometimes they caught him when he thought he was alone in his room. Clearly, Orion was very annoyed.

          “Sorry, father,” Sirius whispered to the smatter of angry muttering. Turais decided to put them out of their misery as he walked out of the kitchen doorway and into full view of the group of crouching adults and children with gifts hovering idly behind them. They all looked up in shock, which reminded Turais of alarmed meerkats. 

          At that thought, Turais couldn’t hold back anymore and laughed into the silent house. When he stopped, he saw Orion standing up and patting down his jacket.

          “Damn it,” he muttered before shooting an annoyed glare at Turais and walking past him to the kitchen.

          An hour later, Arcturus and Melania, Turais’s paternal grandparents and closest friends: Alice, Gerald, Jonty, alongside Alex and his brothers, sat along the kitchen table as Orion bought out a gigantic golden Snitch cake made of treacle with fluttering, golden sugar frosting wings. 

          After a horribly out-of-tune (mostly due to Sirius) rendition of Happy Birthday, Turais made a wish.

          ‘I wish the Blacks and the Potters will stay safe and happy while the war will not start anytime soon.’

          Turais opened his eyes and blew out the twelve candles that stood proudly atop the golden Snitch, which disintegrated into a fine, golden mist that smelled like cinnamon and honey.

          They dug in to the cake and the delightful breakfast spread Kreacher prepared (all of his favourites and in large quantities) and started to chat happily.

          “Where did you buy the cake, father? It tastes amazing,” Turais asked after finishing his first slice in record time and was already starting his second.

          “Pudding Lane Bakery by Mrs Puddington,” Orion responded. “Their waitlist is very long. I had to place an order for this cake three months in advance.”

          “Thank you, father,” Turais abandoned his cake and jogged over to his father and placed a kiss on his cheek while hugging him tightly. He saw Arcturus frown at the intimate gesture, but the grandfather did not comment and silently took another bite of the cake instead.

          “Anyways,” Orion gave Turais a quick squeeze before standing up. He took his wand and Summoned the presents stored upstairs. “Shouldn’t you be more excited about presents?”

          “Well, I’m content to be able to share today with my family and friends so -” Turais was speaking sincerely until Orion pulled out five golden tickets that had ‘416th QUIDDITICH WORLD CUP FINAL MATCH - TOP BOX’ printed on them.

          Turais gasped and hugged his father tightly. “We got top box seats in the Quidditch World Cup finals ! Thank you, father!” Turais released his father and composed himself once more before walking towards Arcturus, whom he knew had a hand in obtaining the tickets. 

          “Thank you, grandfather. I will enjoy your generous present,” Turais said calmly, but allowing a hint of elation and appreciation to leak into his tone.

          Arcturus nodded approvingly at his manners and said, “Happy twelfth birthday, Turais.” 

          He then extended his hand. As Turais shook it, he was surprised by the second hand that clasped onto his shoulder. Although the gesture was simple, it spoke volumes to the amount of affection his grandfather was displaying in front of outside guests. Turais smiled a bit more brightly and Arcturus nodded before letting go. He also gave Melania a gentle hug before returning to his seat.

          Now, beside him stood a towering pile of gifts wrapped in different papers.

          “Now... let’s do this one.” 

          Turais eyed the black envelope on the top of the pile and took in his brothers’ fidgeting looks. He opened it up and saw a card with a hand drawn picture on the cover. It depicted his family lying together in the living room with his Nimbus 1700 circling the couch they were lying on. Although the colouring spilt out of the borders and the stick figures were coarse, it was the best drawing Turais had ever seen. Blinking to keep his tears at bay, he quickly flipped open the card to see the different goofy family portraits that they had taken over the years. He didn’t realize he was crying until he saw a teardrop splash onto one of Sirius’s weird faces.

          He looked up to find their chairs empty as he felt two sets of arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Turais. We didn’t want to make you sad,” Regulus said apologetically. 

          “No, no. I’m not sad. These are happy tears. This… is perfect. I love you two so much,” Turais reached his arms around his brothers’ shoulders and gave them both a crushing hug. 

          After a while, Jonty spoke to Alice in a loud whisper, “I see what Alex meant on the train. We really had to see it to understand it.”

          That broke the spell over the table as Turais released his brothers and clawed at Jonty while the rest of the table gave off a chuckle. Turais wiped his tears away with Orion’s proffered handkerchief and turned to a large box wrapped in gold paper with a large silver bow on the top. Turais eyed Jonty with a knowing look.

          He opened the box and looked in. Inside the box stood a miniature modeling of an upside-down yacht named H.M.S. Slytherin with the keel painted with the Black family crest that contrasted strongly against the silver hull and green sails of the boat. 

          Besides the quite literal and unoriginal wordplay on his name, Turais could not really extract any other meaning from the gift.

          “A literal gift of his name? Really, Jonathan Steward? I spent the entire morning helping you lug that around? That is such a waste of my energy!”

          It wasn’t Turais, but Gerald who spoke. Jonty merely shrugged and Turais rolled his eyes but grinned. 

          “This gift is hideous, Jonty. Wait until your birthday, you’ll regret this gift,” Turais said teasingly and Jonty flashed him a grin, “But thank you, I appreciate it.”

          Turais then looked at a poster rolled up beside the remaining gifts. He unrolled it and found himself looking at the familiar blond, fair-skinned lady with freckles on her cheeks.

          “It’s an autographed poster of Catherine Westermont! Thanks, Gerald!” Turais grinned at the Quidditch fanatic who smiled back.

          He placed the poster on the table and turned to the small rectangular gift that clearly looked like a book.

          “Alice, I’m guessing this one’s yours.”

          “Actually… it’s Jane’s. She owled it to me before she left for her holiday to the United States,” Alice said shyly. “But I did buy you a book?”

          Turais nodded as he picked up the other rectangular gift beneath the first one and unwrapped them. 

          Jane’s book was titled “ Muggles to Magic, Magic to Muggles: How Magic and Technologies Influenced One Another,” while Alice’s was titled “ Essential Potion Discoveries across the Ages.

          “Thank you, Alice. This is a very thoughtful gift, I’ll promise to read it cover to cover very soon. I’ll also thank Jane later.”

          Finally, he reached for the last present, which was a long, thin box.

          “It’s a feather quill,” he guessed triumphantly. 

          “But it’s not any feather quill...” His best friend mumbled softly into his shirt. Turais opened the exquisite, mahogany box and saw a magnificent feather flashing spontaneously like a tempest in electrifying blue… gold… grey… navy blue… 

          Turais’s eyes widened in recognition as he placed the opened box on the table and pushed it towards Alex, who looked up with a horrified expression. “No, Alex. I’m sorry but I cannot accept this gift. This is too much. Keep it for yourself.”

          Alex glared at Turais and pushed the box back while Jonty stood up to take a peek and gasped. “Merlin, I’ve never seen a thunderbird feather quill!”

          “Turais… just accept it. Please… it’s the least I can do.” Alex turned to him so only Turais could see his pleading eyes. 

          ‘The least? It’s probably worth as much as all the other gifts in the room put together.’

          Unwilling to embarrass his best friend, Turais relented and silently pulled the box back towards him. They were going to have a talk after.

          “Well… thank you… Alex. I don’t know how I deserve this gift, but thank you very much, truly. You being an amazing friend is a gift of its own. We will talk later,” Turais said not-so-eloquently as he reached to squeeze Alex’s shoulder. Alex gave him a tight but grateful smile.

          The Hogwarts students spent the rest of the day browsing shops in Diagon Alley and playing Exploding Snap. They also talked a lot about the upcoming semi-final matches of the Quidditch World Cup. 

          England defeated Australia for their best showing in recent memory. They would be competing against the host nation team of Canada.  Gerald was equal parts excited (“England made it to the semi-finals, I knew it! And they will definitely win the Cup!”) and vexed by the news (“Oh no! The Canadians have an excellent winning streak! But they'll lose.”).

          The other side of the bracket saw a face-off between the Liechtenstein team (“Basically everyone living there is on the national Quidditch team! But they are all so good! How?!”) and the rising Quidditch stars, the Syrian Quidditch Team. (“The Syrians won’t win this year, but maybe they will next time. I have seen it in my teacup and I can feel it in my bones!”).

          Turais also discovered that all of them would be attending the final match, albeit not in the Top Box. However, they promised to meet up at the campsite at some point before or after the match.

          After his friends left, Turais opened the gifts from his family. Compared to his friends’ gifts, they were all - paradoxically - impersonal and hostile, especially when it came from his maternal side of the family. 

          For example, Pollux and Irma (Turais assumed that they were forced to by Arcturus) sent him a heinous 16th-century porcelain vase that depicted the decapitation of muggles by wizards. While Cygnus and Druella, the parents of the three Black sisters, had sent something less grotesque, Turais looked warily at the complete collection of books on blood purity supremacy.

          Turais decided he did not want to think about what the thinly-veiled messages might be behind all those gifts. Therefore, he planned to have Sirius “accidentally” break some things and burn others at some point when he returned to school; Sirius agreed to be clumsy.

          Turais looked around his room and saw all the opened gifts and wrapping papers that were littered everything. And then his eyes rested upon the box that sat idly on his desk.

          Turais took the beautiful wooden box and the invaluable gift that laid within it and walked down to Alex’s room. When he moved to knock on the half-closed door, he suddenly heard loud playful screams from within.

          They were Sirius and Regulus’s screams. Turais stilled his hand and opted to peek into the room instead.

          “Stop! Alex… ahhhhck! Stop! ” Sirius screamed at an even higher octave in between gasps.

          “The Tickle Monster never stops! Mwwaahahahaha - ” a deep, timberous voice boomed.

          “Stop! Tickle Reggie! He’s the most ticklish of us all!” Sirius panted out. Clearly the Tickle Monster eased off his attack and considered the proposition.

          “No! Sirius is the most ticklish-est - ahhhhhh!” Regulus screamed as the Tickle Monster turned its attack onto the next unfortunate victim. 

          Turais looked at the large feather in his hand that flashed and glowed blue, gold, and white majestically in the dim hallway. Then, he looked up into the room and saw the brilliant twinkle in his friend’s shining blue eyes that lit up like a supernova when Regulus climbed onto him for his retaliatory strike.

          Turais suddenly pictured himself in Alex's place, laughing and playing alongside the Weasleys over every meal as Harry Potter.

          Upon that realization, Turais quietly retreated back to his room and placed the quill in the centre of his cupboard. Stepping back, he saw the magnificent feather luminating its surrounding darkness with the dynamic vibrancy and lustre, but it was no longer as striking for he had seen something even brighter - something he saw in his own eyes and cherished every single day.

          Turais never protested the gift again.

Notes:

It's the 1970 Quidditch World Cup Final! I wonder who Turais will run into? 🤔

Did anyone go back to find where Kaiden Potter made a cameo? Let me know in the comments if you found him!

- ravenclawblues 2019-11-30

Chapter 18: The Seven Potters (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I am posting the chapter early this week, happy reading!

Finals are starting so next chapter will be posted in two weeks' time (so no update next week).

- ravenclawblues 2019-12-06

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE SEVEN POTTERS


 

August 21, 1970 (Friday)

 

ENGLAND V LIECHTENSTEIN

by A. Carnierus, Quidditch Correspondent

Dramatic Win over Host Nation For Best Showing in A Century

Face Off with Dark Horse Liechtenstein for Top Prize This Sunday

 

A seemingly inconsequential late-game penalty in a brutal five-hour match had dramatically resulted in a narrow victory for England. The penalty was called in favour of the English side, which Chaser and Team Captain Gerard dutifully executed. This narrowed the score between them and then-score leader Canada to a 140-points difference. Seconds later, English Seeker Catherine Westermont had caught the Snitch, as she led them to a comeback win and a final score of 560 to 550 against the host nation team (see pamphlet for match predictions). Now, the two European teams will face-off tomorrow in a battle of epic proportions (see page 2 for team details)...

 

***

 

          “Come on! Wake up, you lazy bum! It’s England versus Liechtenstein today!” Turais screamed into Sirius’s ear. Sirius moaned and pulled his duvet desperately over his tousled hair, mumbling something incoherently.

          Kreacher suddenly appeared on the bedside drawer armed with a tub filled with ice water and a wicked grin. Turais stepped away from the bed just as Kreacher mercilessly turned the tub over Sirius’s body with his boney arms.

          Emerging from the crash of icy water, Sirius shouted and spluttered as he shot up to a sitting position. His hair was drenched and draped like seaweeds over his forehead. Kreacher snapped his fingers and disappeared with his incriminating evidence, leaving Turais with a furious, growling brother. 

          He suddenly had flashbacks to the moment Dobby dropped Petunia’s pudding onto the floor followed by an enraged roar as -

          Sirius pounced at Turais with all his might, slamming the older brother’s back on the floor painfully out of his reverie.

          After “successfully” getting Sirius out of bed at the expense of Turais’s pain, the Black household awaited for the Ministry-designated Portkey, which was a dirty leather boot, in the living room to transport them to a campsite in Western Canada. At the exact second of their departure time, Turais felt a tug on his navel as he jerked irresistibly forwards and banged his side painfully against Alex. They spun at high speeds in swirling colours until suddenly -

          Turais’s feet slammed into the ground and toppled over. Suppressing the nauseous feeling bubbling up inside him, he opened his eyes and saw four wind-swept faces staring down at him. 

          “Why can you never Floo or Portkey properly?” Orion asked teasingly as he pulled his eldest up from the dirty cave floor. 

          Alex snickered as he patted Turais’s robes in an attempt to get rid of the dirt. Turais looked around to see they had appeared in a large cave with only one opening.

          “Twenty-two past ten from 12 Grimmauld Place, London, United Kingdom.”

          A bored voice blared behind them. Turais turned to see two men dressed in brown robes with dark circles under their eyes standing beside the cave entrance tunnel. They were clearly on duty for longer than what was appropriate.

          “Welcome to White Goat, Alberta, Canada. You have arrived at the International Portkey Arrival Port One. Please proceed to the Customs Office straight ahead and please note that anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards are in effect across the entire campsite.” One of them croaked as the other held out a hand for Orion to hand over his used Portkey. 

          They lined up amongst wizards and witches from around the globe. Then, when it was their family’s turn to enter the inspection room, they passed through a cascading magic waterfall that washed away all undetectable and latent magic - similar to a miniature version of Gringotts’s Thief’s Downfall. Behind the curtain of spells, they found themselves inside one of the several heavily warded rooms where two Customs officers awaited behind a screen of protective Runes. The room was so thick with aggressive protective and anti-Dark spell enchantments that they poked and probed on every inch of his skin and his magic; it felt like being submerged in an iced-over pond with the uncomfortable stabbing sensations from coming in contact with the freezing water. Finally, a wand-check was performed to search for improper magic uses and to link it to the magical profile of the witch or wizard before they headed out the other side of the room.

          After exiting the office, Turais noticed that they had emerged from the cave and were stood atop a hill that was relatively unoccupied as opposed to the bustling camping grounds below. The Quidditch Stadium, where the match would be held in a few hours, stood magnificently as it glistened in gold and silver at the tip of a distant peninsula surrounded by luscious greenery. 

          He looked further to the right and saw the clear, turquoise lake, which created a perfect image of the structure, cloudless, blue skies, and snow-capped mountains. Unlike the mountain ranges that he had seen in Europe, Turais noted the endless chains of dark and sharply-chiseled peaks that towered mightily over the scenic forest.

          Ignoring the rumbustious Quidditch fans surrounding him for a moment, Turais closed his eyes and immersed himself in the warm sunlight and rustling leaves. A breeze gently brushed by his face and he inhaled deeply. The turpentine, cool scent of resinous junipers and woody cedars filled his nostrils. He also detected notes of fruitiness above the earthy undertones. It felt… different but pleasant, nonetheless.

          “This place is wonderful!” Turais gasped when he opened his eyes once again. He had never been to the Rocky Mountains before and he now wondered why on Earth he did not bother to travel here before.

          Orion chuckled at his son’s reaction and said, “Yes, Turais. I’ve been here many years ago when I was a teenager with my own grandfather, Sirius Phineas Black. We spent the summer fishing and hunting in the forest hundreds of kilometres northwest of here. On our last night, we even saw two thunderbirds fighting atop one of the mountains, it was the most breathtaking -”

          “Orion!” A large, middle-aged man with sandy, pepper hair cried out as he stood midway up the steep hill, panted out loudly. Before he had to trudge up the remainder of his way, Orion spared the man his trouble and walked down to meet him instead.

          “Martus! Pleasure to see a familiar face in this international crowd,” Orion said pleasantly as he walked up to shake the man’s hand and continued descending alongside a boisterous crowd of Australians, judging from their yellow robes and partially-transfigured kangaroo tails that swung behind them, that they saw in the Customs line-up behind them. Even though they were still halfway up the slope, the canopy of pines, spruces, and firs growing at the foot of the hill had completely blocked out their view.

          “Hello, boys! Ah, this must be young Mr Alex Fawley. Pleasure. Are you related to the Ollivanders? Because that grey hair will remind me of Mr Ollivander ever since he ambushed me,” Martus said as he shook Alex’s hand enthusiastically. Turais frowned at the idea that the wandmaker would ever attack a jolly man as Martus.

          Martus Weaver, a Ravenclaw, was one of Orion’s closest friends and a fellow yearmate in Hogwarts. In fact, all of Orion’s closest acquaintances were Ravenclaws. As Martus worked at the Gringotts branch in Italy, he only dropped by a few times to visit Orion every year, but their friendship persisted. Martus scheduled to meet up with the Black household when they arrived as their tents were set up next to each other.

          “Hello uncle Martus, I haven’t seen you since I went to Hogwarts! How -” Turais said cheerily.

          Suddenly, a large crowd in red, blue, and white with top hats emerged from Customs and started roaring out, “U. S. A.! U. S. A.! U. S. A.!”

          Knowing that it was hopeless to continue the conversation here, Martus mouthed something and gestured them to start hiking down the hill.

          “You’d think the Americans have won the Cup judging by their enthusiasm!” Marcus shouted out.

          “Wait! What happened between you and Mr Ollivander?” Alex asked quickly, clearly eager to hear more about the wandmaker’s antics. 

          “Well, after I bought my first-year wand, I left the store and barely took two steps when a man suddenly pounced on me. When I turned around, I only saw a messy head of Ollivander greys. It turned out that he has mistaken me for another kid who ran away with a wand,” Martus sighed as he recalled the incident.

          “But why would they steal a wand? It won’t work properly!” Alex exclaimed at the absurd idea. 

          “Well, most children don’t know that until they get their first wand. I always wanted to steal my father’s wand to do magic. I reckon that child was desperate enough to nick an extra one on his way out while his father was buying a replacement wand,” Martus explained. 

          They made it to the base of the hill and the edge of the campsite. Turais could see hundreds of wizards and witches with different outfits and dresses weaving in and out of sight between the messy rows of tents and gigantic tree trunks. Suddenly, two wizards in smart brown robes Apparated directly in front of them as they made chase behind two teenage boys carrying fire torches that shot out golden stars and sizzled against the tent fabrics. 

          “No fire-producing spells or items on camp grounds!” They bellowed over the raucous laughter and noisy chatters.

          “Anyways, Turais! How was your first year at Hogwarts? I bet you were busy with Slughorn dragging you around his parties.” Martus shouted as he winked at Turais’s blush. “I’m wondering why my son can’t be like you, working on making potions safely indoors - he’s always running around dragons!”

          “Hands off my son, Martus,” Orion snapped playfully while pulling Turais away from a foul-smelling, snapping plant in the arms of a short, plump man. “I still don’t know how your Gresham managed to be sorted into Slytherin.” They stepped in between two long rows of tents amongst many that littered across the forest floor.

          “Your guess is as good as mine, Orion. But I keep telling you that he must’ve conspired with my brother so that they can split the winnings,” said Martus laughingly as he leaped over a thick tree root and barely avoided a charging moose with a beaver on its back. Two Canadian Ministry wizards were giving chase as the onlookers laughed. All the while, the three brothers were struggling to climb over the roots and getting dirt and moss on their palms. It was moments like these that Turais wished he could grow up soon. After clearing the obstacle, Turais helped his brothers up while casting his eyes forward. The glowing sunlight was now peeking through the thinning layer of trees as they neared the edge of the dense forest.

          "Pommel's Oak-Aged Mead! Official partner of the Quidditch World Cup!" A vendor bellowed as he walked past.

          “I’ll never forget that. You told me to go all in with my five Galleons on him being a Gryffindor. Only Adelpius bet Slytherin and he won the entire pool of what - one hundred and ten Galleons?” Orion said as he paused when a couple little girls covered in red and blue body paint zoomed across their path on their toy broomsticks. 

          As Orion spoke, they passed by the last of the large conifers and had reached a large, sun-lit clearing. Instead of the mature trees that surrounded the area, small, young conifer saplings that went up to Orion’s height littered the area. Compared to the forest floor where tents were erected messily around the uneven terrain and compact vegetation, this was a neatly laid-out city of tents where rows upon rows of differently shaped and sized tents, clearly magical, stood. People milled around, sporting various costumes and memorabilia of the two finalists. The red and white combination was favoured by most. Somewhere far to their left, there was a large bang as thick red and blue smokes rolled outwards. Probably Liechtenstein fans, Turais thought.

          “Woah - father, can create a betting pool for my Sorting?” Sirius, who zoomed ahead, asked as he ran his fingers along the flat, circular leaves of young aspens. Occasionally, he would hold the branches for a fleeting moment as he passed by before releasing them and watch them bend back and forth like a pendulum.

          “No, Sirius.”

          “Ah, shucks…” Sirius absentmindedly grabbed a tree branch and let go when he stretched it to its limits...

          Thwack. 

          “Sirius!” Turais fumed as he rubbed his reddened cheekbone.

          Sirius looked genuinely apologetic but also amused, so he swapped between a pout and a smile every second.

          “I’m not waking you up next time. You will just have to miss the Quidditch World Cup final,” Turais scolded. Sirius placed his arm around Turais and muttered a quick “Sorry!” Turais glared, but his anger quickly melted away at Sirius’s puppy-eyed look.

          “By the way? Who are you most excited to see, boys?” Martus glanced back at the four boys.

          “Patrick Gerard!” Sirius shouted excitedly.

          “Simon Quigley!” Regulus also shouted at the same time.

          Both Gerard and Quigley were Chasers of the English team and in Puddlemere United, the Black family’s favourite League team. Gerard was the League’s Top Chaser for the last season while Quigley was the highest-paid player in the League.

          “How about you, Turais?” Martus asked when Turais didn’t respond immediately.

          “Oh, he’s totally infatuated with -” said Orion casually.

          “Father! I’m not in-” Turais felt his cheeks heat up as he began a feeble protest. But Sirius began to crow and coo unhelpfully. Turais wanted to strangle his bratty brother.

          “Turais is in loooove with Catherine Westermont,” Sirius slurred as he dodged Turais’s enraged grasp to dart in front of Martus for protection while giggling wildly.

          “I’m not!” Turais looked up at the bemused Martus. “Martus! She’s a perfectly decent Seeker!” Catherine Westermont was the prodigal 24-year-old Seeker for Appleby Arrows and the best Seeker in the League for her fourth consecutive year. And she was Turais’s favourite professional Quidditch player despite his allegiance to Puddlemere United (because let's be frank for a moment, Chudley Cannons was a terrible team). 

          “Your son knows how to pick ‘em,” Martus fake-whispered to a smirking Orion. 

          “Uncle Martus!” Turais felt he was burning up with embarrassment, which was frankly ridiculous, “I -”

          “Father, why can they use toy broomsticks? Won’t the Muggles see them?” Regulus winked at Turais as he provided a much needed distraction from his “not-a-celebrity-crush”.  Turais sighed a breath of relief as he observed a large group of children a few yards away having a mini Quidditch match with two goalposts and toy brooms.

          “Canada is large enough to find many secluded places where Muggles wouldn’t be. This place is very remote and hard to get to using Muggle methods and there are also many Muggle-Repelling enchantments, so it is okay here. But if the Finals were hosted back home, we would need to be much more careful,” Orion explained as he squinted up ahead and over the rows of British and Liechtenstein flags. “Ah, I see our tent!”

          After a few more minutes of walking and bumping into various shoulders, they reached the other side of the clearing, which was in the shadows of the nearby trees.

          “Ah, here we are! Perfect location. The Quidditch stadium is just beyond these trees.”

          A tall, black three-storey tent was erected in front of them just before the other edge of the forest, towering over the nearby tents. The silver poles and pegs shimmered as Turais saw wisps of protective runes appear and fade away. 

          “Come on, boys! Let’s check out our home for the night. Martus, I’ll just get them settled in,” Orion waved as he held up the tent flaps for the boys to enter. Turais’s jaw dropped as he saw golden shimmers in the air and took in the luxurious multi-storey building, complete with suites, a living room on the second floor, and a kitchen that occupied the entire first floor. The design was reminiscent of 12 Grimmauld Place in all its majestic yet haughty glory and completed with curvilinear furniture and decor. Kreacher suddenly popped into view with various cookware and ingredients as he already started to prepare their meals. 

          Catching Turais’s gaze, Orion commented airily, “Don’t mind the house-elf, Turais. None of the tents offered a basement unfortunately so we have to make do with having him mill around in full view. But it is only temporary.”

          Turais nodded without commenting. Orion showed them the rest of the tent and their rooms before leaving the tent to meet up with his other acquaintances. Alex retired to his room, claiming that he was completely exhausted from the trek and wanted to nap before the match began.

          “Turais!” Sirius shouted as he opened the door and walked into his room without knocking; Regulus followed behind. “I want to explore the campsite instead of staying indoors. It is so boring!”

          Turais grinned. He was thinking about exactly the same thing. Plus, someone had to make sure they were safe from all the strangers, right?

          “Okay. But three rules. One, we need to stick together at all times. Two, no talking or following strangers. And three, when I say we need to leave. We leave, no complaints . Deal?”

          Sirius groaned while Regulus readily nodded his head.

          “Fine…” Sirius said, “Let’s go!”

          The three brothers snuck out of the tent behind the house-elves after a well-timed distraction with falling pots and set off across the campsite.

          The sun was now fully above their heads as Turais could see the city of tents scattered in between the large conifers.

          "Where do you want to head off to first?" Turais asked as he observed the bustling crowd before his eyes. When there was no response, he turned around to ask his brothers again, only to find himself all alone in the middle of busy intersection.

          "Thomas! Do. Not. Touch. Mommy's. Wand!" a woman shouted at a child around Regulus's age as they walked past him.

          "Sirius!" Turais yelled as he looked in every direction, hoping to find two bobbing heads of black hair. “Regulus!”

          "Young man. Omniculars. Five Galleons a pair," a vendor walked up to Turais and he waved him off and trod back towards their tent.

          "Sirius!" Turais's heart rate started to rise as he peeked through the front gardens, sundials, and fountains of various magical tents for his brothers.

          "Emma!"

          "Regulus! Come out this instant! You're in so much troub-"

          "Ooof -"

          Turais slammed into another body as they tumbled onto the ground with Turais lying on top.

          "I'm terribly sorry," Turais mumbled as he righted himself and saw the other boy sprawled on the ground, clearly winded. "Um, let me help you." Turais reached out and heaved the other boy back on his feet.

          "I'm sorry," Turais apologized again. 

          "It's alright," the other boy, who looked around Turais's age, said as he patted down his robes to rid him of the grass. He sported a different accent from his own, but it was not American. So Turais guessed he must be Canadian. "I should be the one apologizing. I didn't watch where I was heading."

          They both stood awkwardly and eyed each other.

          "So -"

          "So -"

          They spoke at the same time before stopping again. Turais took the plunge and said, "So, I guess I will be seeing you around. I need to find my brothers."

          "Oh," the boy said in surprise. "I'm trying to find my sister too. If I lose her, I'm going to be in so much trouble."

          "Tell me about it -" Turais said as he looked over the boy's shoulder and spotted his brothers chatting animated with a girl a few yards away and in front of the merchandise stands. " - SIRI! REGGIE!"

          Sirius whipped his head towards Turais's direction and waved at him excitedly, completely obvious to Turais's fright and plight.

          "EMMA!" The other boy shouted as the girl looked over and stood there stonily.

          The two boys ran over to their position in a huff.

          "Hey Turais, I -" Sirius started to talk.

          "SIRIUS! What did I tell you about staying close to me -" Turais yelled with rage and fury.

          "EMMA!" The other boy shouted with similar ferocity. "How dare you run off on your own! You are grounded! -"

          "And you too, Regulus! You should know better than to walk with Sirius without notifying me -"

          "But -" Sirius tried to argue.

          "And I will never sneak us out ever again after this stunt you've pulled!"

          "Yeah, what he just said! Sirius! We are heading to our tent right now! "

          "Eustace," the girl, Emma, said in a quivering voice. It was only now that Turais noticed that her eyes with red and brimmed with tears. "I -" She burst out in tears as she burrowed her face into the boy's robe.

          "Oh, Emma," Eustace wrapped his arms around Emma's head and patted it softly. The fire in his eyes dissipated and was only left with deep concern. "What happened?"

          "I..." the girl hiccuped between her watery words, "I... got lost. You... you were walking t...too fast and I couldn't f...find you..."

          "I'm so sorry, Emma," Eustace said softly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

          Emma sniffed as she rubbed her eyes on the front of his robes. Then, she emerged and pointed at Sirius and Regulus. "T...they found me by myself and off...fered to help me find you. I hope they are not in trouble."

          Turais looked at his brothers for confirmation of the story and they both scratched their heads sheepishly.

          "I... tried to call out for you but I guess you didn't hear us," Sirius offered. "You always told us to help those in need..."

          Turais felt his anger ebb away and was left with only relief and... a bit of pride. He drew his two brothers in and hugged them. "You both did the right thing. I'm so proud of you. I'm sorry for yelling at you just now. I was worried."

          "It's okay, Turais," Regulus said. "We're sorry too for leaving you." Turais felt Sirius's head nod in agreement on his left.

          "Okay, let me know next time," Turais sighed as he ruffled their hair fondly.

          "So..." Sirius asked in a pleading voice, "Can we still look around?"

          Turais sighed and shook his head in exasperation.

          "Fine," he said as his brothers did a weird celebratory dance. Turais then turned back to Eustace and Emma. "Do you want to join us?"

          Eustace eyed his sister, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod. "I guess we can stay for just a little bit."

          Sirius, Regulus, and Emma immediately ran off towards the nearby merchandise kiosks that displayed a variety of joke items and Quidditch memorabilia and chatted excitedly amongst themselves. Turais and Eustace, on the other hand, hung back and walked together as they kept a close eye on their siblings.

          "Pardon me. I believe I haven't properly introduced myself," Turais turned towards his newfound companion. "I am Turais. The eldest of the three brothers."

          "And I am Eustace," the boy said, "You British are quite concerned with being primp and proper, aren't you?"

          "My brother would beg to differ," Turais quirked his brow at his Sirius.

          "Sorry," Eustace said with a grimace. "I meant no offense."

          "And you Canadians are quick to apologize, aren't you?"

          Eustace gave a small laugh. "You are quite right. So how old are you, exactly?"

          "Just celebrated my twelfth birthday last month," Turais said. "Sirius, my second brother, is ten years old while my youngest brother, Regulus, is nine years old."

          "Oh! He's the same age as Emma then," Eustace replied. "And I am fourteen."

          "So, you're entering third year at Ilvermorny, I gather?"

          "So you've gathered correctly," Eustace confirmed with a smile. "And you? Hogwarts?"

          "Correct. What house are you in?"

          "When I was standing on the Gordian Knot during my Sorting, I was honoured to be selected by two different Houses, both the Horned Serpent and Pukwudgie," Eustace said. "But I ultimately chose Pukwudgie. It is the House that rules a wizard's heart, they say."

          "Why did you not choose Horned Serpent?" Turais asked. 

          Eustace sighed. "I knew Horned Serpent was the most famous House and produced many well-known witches and wizards, but... it's... it's boring. You know? And my family has always been sorted into that house. I want to be my own person and create my own legacy, apart from theirs."

          "I can appreciate the sentiment," Turais said. "Why don't you guess what House I'm in?"

          "Slytherin," Eustace said. Turais gave him an amused look. "Guess how I knew?" Turais shook his head and shrugged." Well, because I haven't heard any gossips about anyone being disowned from the Black family."

          Turais choked upon hearing his words. "That was... unexpected."

          Eustace laughed. "You might not know this, but the magical community on this side of the pond actually keep a close eye on your affairs."

          "Really?"

          "Well, in the Canadian Ministry, we still have a position called the Magus Chancery that is currently held by Lord Patrick Arkenstone. That office technically holds the Council Prerogative, or the highest office of the country, but ever since we repatriated the Constitution a few years ago, the role is largely ceremonial. I swear the Americans have an even larger fixation on British politics and all the antiquity despite their apparent love for a republic."

          "Huh, I didn't even know that."

          "We are brackish waters to you, I'm sure," Eustace said with depreciating humour.

          "I assure you that I never thought such a thing," Turais laughed. "So what does your family do?"

          "Oh, we own a meadery," he said. "And you?" 

          "That's brilliant. My family is sort of a landed gentry," said Turais.

          "What is that?" Eustace asked in confusion.

          "So basically we collect rent from our properties and invest the gold," Turais explained.

          "Huh, that's weird, dude," Eustace scrunched his face, thinking hard. "What happens if you invest in the wrong businesses?"

          "Well... your passive income will be less than your expenses. Then you'll run into debt," Turais suggested.

          "I guess so. I don't like the idea of sitting on your hands and just hoping that the gold comes in," Eustace admitted, "Sounds like an easy way to empty your vaults, you know? Anyhow, Emma and I should head back now. We have some preparations to do before the game starts," Eustace extended his hand out.

          "It was nice meeting you, Eustace. Let's keep in touch,"  Turais took his hand and shook it. "I would love to have a pen-pal. What is your family name?"

          "I thought you've guessed," the older boy looked surprised. "Pommel. Eustace Pommel."

          "Great! I guess I will see you next time," Turais said.

          "And next time will be sooner than you think," Eustace said before he walked ahead to collect his sister.

          Once they said their goodbyes, the three Black brothers continued to stroll around the campsite. They were just about to head past the two rows of flags before they heard their names.

          "Turais!"

          He saw a girl waving at him in the distance.

          "Natalia!" Turais said as they walked up to the girl. "Fancy seeing you here."

          "Won't dare to miss the biggest Wizarding event in the world for anything!" she grinned. "Can you believe England made it to the Finals?! I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this. I honestly thought the Canadians had it in the bag!"

          "It was surely a surprise for all of us," Turais agreed. 

          "Oh, let me introduce someone..." Natalia said as she dragged a reluctant boy next to her forcefully. “So, remember this face. He is my evil twin, Noel."

          Turais turned to the boy beside her. They had the same short, blond hair, freckled cheeks, and tanned skin. "Woah, the resemblance is uncanny."

          "Yeah, but I wear the look better. I'm also the better twin," the boy smirked as he shook Turais’s hand. "Soon-to-be ex-Ravenclaw and aspiring Magizoologist."

          "Same as Natalia then," Turais commented. They were both entering their seventh and final year in Hogwarts.

          "Yeah," Noel grimaced. "Seems like I'm not getting rid of her anytime soon - ouch! " Natalia smacked him on the back, "- Lay it off, sis! -" Natalia made a threatening motion and Noel flinched. " - Alright! Alright! Steady, momma Horntail."

          "You have the makings of a great Dragonologist!" Turais laughed.

          "Speaking of Dragonologist, we've just met Master Gresham Weaver!" Noel said with a sparkle in his eyes. "We asked to see if we can study dragons under him after we graduated and he said he would consider it after looking at our NEWT scores next year."

          "That's brilliant! My father is good friends with Gresham's father," Turais said. "I'll put in a good word for you if you'd like." 

          "That would be amazing. Thank you, Turais!" Natalia gasped.

          "Oh, right. I forgot to introduce ourselves," Turais said embarrassingly. "These are my brothers, Sirius and Regulus."

          His brothers gave a unified wave of hands.

          "You two are so adorable!" Natalia gushed as Sirius's cheeks tinted pink. Then, she gasped and turned to Turais excitedly, "Right! Did you hear that Michael - Wilkins, I mean - is the new Slytherin captain!?"

          "That's great news," Turais replied diplomatically. From the limited interactions with the boy, he seemed to be a fair captain and a likely upgrade from Laughalot, the previous captain. "He seems to be quite... principled, if nothing else."

          “You mean 'stuffy as heck,’” Noel snorted, "That chap has the humour of a dead Goblin. Hmmm... Nat, that might explain why you're the way you are -"

          "I dare you to finish that sentence," Natalia pulled out her wand and pointed at her twin.

          After exchanging a few more pleasantries that were not school-related. Turais bid the twins farewell as the Black brothers returned to the raucous crowds. They were out for only an hour, but to avoid being caught missing, they should head back in half an hour. They were browsing aimlessly, passing through thick smogs of blue and red smoke that originated from painted tents of Liechtenstein supporters with numerous banners that screamed: “Für Hekates, Cheftrainer und Quidditch!” A joyous crowd of Leichtenstein supporters were also leaping around in a group dance around a cauldron.

          "Are you lost?" Sirius asked as Turais turned to find his brother looking at a boy of similar age. He was fair with flaming red hair, but most importantly, he was trembling as though it was the dead of winter. His eyes darted between the three brothers with fear. "Hey, it's okay," Sirius continued with a soothing voice. "We would like to help you... do you want us to call the Ministry wizards?"

          "NO!" the boy shouted as several adults turned towards them in concern. The boy looked panicked and his voice quietened so much that Turais could barely here him speak. "No... I don't need help. I... I just need to stand here. M...my brother told me to wait for him here..."

          "But it's not safe to be alone here," Turais said. "Can we lead you to your tent -"

          "Aigel!" A familiar voice sounded from beside him as Turais saw Pierricoeur strolling down between the tents towards them with a bag of treats in his hand. His looks were murderous as he approached them. "Aigel! What did I tell you about not talking to strangers?!" Pierricoeur spared Turais one glance but refused to acknowledge him or his brothers.

          "I...I'm sorry, Le-"

          "Let's go!" Pierricoeur grabbed the boy's hand and twisted it in a painful angle. The boy whimpered as he was dragged off into the crowd.

          "What was that?" Sirius said as he saw them turn a corner and out of view. "Turais, was he the rude Muggleborn that you told us about constantly?"

          "Yeah," Turais said as he frowned. "I -"

          “Sirius! Turais! Regulus!”

          Turais turned to see the one and only James Potter jumping up and down, waving at them with a saucepan in his hand, beside him was a teenager with almost identical appearance but only much taller. The older boy grabbed the younger boy before he could run off and said something into his ears. It clearly annoyed him as they argued for a while before the younger boy’s shoulders slumped in defeat and headed over.

           ‘He must be Kaiden Potter, the fifth-year.’

          James ran over excitedly while his cousin trailed behind. 

          “Hey Turais,” he said breathlessly, his eyes glanced up at Turais but then quickly turned to Sirius. Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, he said breathlessly, “Hey… Sirius, how are you doing?”

          “Fine, Potter,” Sirius said curtly.

          “Umm… I would like to… to… saysorryaboutcallingyouevil,” James mumbled as he bowed his head. Turais could see his ears turning pink.

          “What?” Sirius asked harshly. “What did you just mumble, Potter?”

          “Umm… I told Kaiden that I called your grandfather… evil,” James grimaced at the word, “and… um… he said I was mean… and I shouldsaysorry.”

          “What?” Sirius asked, this time with a hint of amusement. “Say what?”

          “I'm sorry ! Okay! I’m not saying it for a fourth time, Black,” James yelled at Sirius’s face indignantly. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes stared intensely. Sirius looked shocked at the outburst for a moment before bursting out into laughter. 

          “I heard you the first time, James. But I just like to see you squirm,” Sirius smirked.

          “You git -” James was about to continue when Kaiden caught up. At this distance, Turais could identify the Black features that were present on Kaiden but absent on James. Unlike James’s hazel eyes, glasses, and wild hair, Kaiden had the Black’s grey eyes, was spectacles-free, and had tousled but tameable hair. Nonetheless, the Potter genes were strong in the two boys and they could pass as brothers.

          “James, you should not insult someone who you just apologized to. That’s like... the second rule to apologizing,” the taller boy admonished the shorter boy.

          “What’s the first rule, then?” James narrowed his eyes through his lens.

          “Actually saying ‘sorry’ without mumbling it or yelling it,” said Kaiden.

          “Well I ain’t saying it for the fourth time. That’s the third rule,” said James, but he hesitated as he turned back to Sirius. “Umm… you forgive me, right?”

          Sirius narrowed his eyes and thought for a while before relaxing his facial features and said, “For now.”

          “So that’s a yes, ha! Kaiden, I told you I could do it,” James said triumphantly and he pumped his fist in the air as Turais pondered on whether that pathetic apology even qualified as an apology. He shook his head mentally as he was beginning to understand why Lily hated James so much at the beginning of school. He was a bit of an obnoxious git.

          “So! Do you want to check out our tent? It is two stories high, I’m pretty sure it’s the tallest !” James shouted proudly. 

          “What do you mean, James? I don’t know if I can even see your tent but I bet you can see mine. It’s the tall, black one right there !” Sirius pointed at the Black tent.

          “Woah! I haven’t seen that tent for the past two weeks. That’s totally not yours. You’re lying. But anyways, mine’s better inside , Sirius!” 

          “Sure, whatever you say, James. I need to see it to believe it,” said Sirius. Turais and Kaiden’s gazes met and they both let out an exasperated sigh and shook their heads at the two younger boys.

          As they walked towards the Potter tent, Turais mentally prepared himself for meeting not only his once-grandparents but also his once-extended Potter family. 

          ‘They are alive. I will get to meet them. I will be able to converse with them. What should I say? Oh Merlin, I’m not ready for this. I’ve never even met another Potter before. I’m freaking out. Breathe in. Breathe out.’

          Turais had arrived just as he was able to regain his senses. As it turned out, the Potters lived only a few tents away from them. They also got the prime tent sites closest to the stadium, which made sense as they were well-off too. 

          ‘The Potter family - the family I never had a chance to grow up with and know.’

          Suddenly, another more disturbing thought entered his mind.

          ‘They all died in my original timeline before my birth, even Kaiden. I will need to save them. I have to. I can’t let the Harry Potter in this world to grow up without knowing his family like I once did.’

          “Hey mum, dad! I met my friends!” James’s shout into the tent returned Turais back to the scene in front of him. He would need to act normally and try to get close with them. The Potters and the Blacks were still at odds and a wrong move might be disastrous for Sirius and James’s friendship as well as his ability to become familiar with them. Turais schooled his expression back into a pleasant smile to mask his turbulent emotions. 

          “James! What did I say about strangers -” Mrs Potter appeared from the tent flaps as she concentrated on scolding James when she looked up and saw the three Black brothers. Her eyes darted to Turais. “Oh, um… hello, Mr Black, sorry for James’s behaviour once again -”

          “Oh, no worries, Mrs Potter. I believe Sirius and James made up and their misunderstanding has been cleared up. Right, Sirius?” Turais nudged Sirius, who looked up at him, blinking and confused. “Right, Sirius? The apology ?”

          His eyes blinked once more, then widened. “Oh? Oh! That, yeah, James said sorry, and I think that’s good enough for me. Anyways, this is my older brother who you’ve met, Master Turais Black, and this is my younger brother, Regulus Black.”

          “Hey mum, can they come in and check out my chocolate frog card collection, please ?” James was clearly bored with the conversation and wanted out. Mrs Potter tensed as she glanced at Turais, as though looking for permission.

          “Hey Siri, Reggie, do you want to go with James while I talk with Mrs Potter and the rest of them for a while? It’s boring and you really don’t want to stay,” Turais spoke to his brothers.

          “Yeah, really boring. You know what’s less boring, chocolate frog cards!” James said dramatically. 

          His brothers eyed Turais and Turais nodded. Mrs Potter also nodded curtly at her son, who shouted in excitement, as the two younger Black brothers followed a bouncing James into the tent.

          “Well, please do join our family for a cup of tea,” Mrs Potter invited as she held the tent flap for Turais and Kaiden to enter.

          Through the crevices, Turais could see the four figures seated around the sitting room. Turais mentally steeled himself Despite knowing that no amount of preparation would be adequate for what was about to happen. Mrs Potter gave Turais a confused expression and Turais realized that he was standing like a fool in front of the tent.

          Turais breathed in deeply and shook his arms nervously.

          ‘Here I go…’

Notes:

So you have met Kaiden Potter! Are you ready to meet all the Potters now?! Turais is mightily nervous.

Please follow the link to determine the winner of this edition of the Quidditch World Cup! https://forms.gle/9yFA2vpes6W25kuL6

- ravenclawblues 2019-12-06

Chapter 19: 1970 Quidditch World Cup Final (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Finals are over! And winter holiday is on the horizon. I wish everyone enjoys the festivities and have safe travels.

I am equally excited and nervous to share this chapter with you. Hope you enjoy it!

And I spent a grand total of 30 minutes to whip up the two photoshop logos so here you go. 😅

- ravenclawblues 2019-12-19

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER NINETEEN

1970 QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP FINAL


 

August 21, 1970 (Friday)

 

ENGLAND V LIECHTENSTEIN

by A. Carnierus, Quidditch Correspondent

 

(page 2 continued)

Meet the Teams:

England National Quidditch Team 

Nickname(s): The Three Yellow Dragons

Head Coach: W. Flyworthy

Home Stadium: River Piddle Stadium, Dorset, England

ICWQC Code: ENG

Previous World Cup Title: 1869 (sole title)

Official Robe Colours: Red and White

Chasers: J.C. Bagsworth, P. Gerard (C), S. Quigley

Beaters: T. James, C. Jones

Keeper: H. Zachary

Seeker: C. Westermont

 

Liechtenstein National Quidditch Team

Nickname(s): The Blues-Reds, The Team of Two Families 

Head Coach: F. Frommelt 

Home Stadium: Rhienpark Stadion, Vaduz, Liechtenstein 

ICWQC Code: LIE 

Previous World Cup Title: 1930 (sole title)

Official Robe Colours: Blue and Red 

Chasers: A. Konzett, O. Vogt, E. Wenzel 

Beaters: P.E. Frommelt, P.T. Frommelt 

Keeper: H. Frommelt (C) 

Seeker: G. Frommelt 

 

***

 

         Turais steeled his resolve and entered the tent. He found the interior to be akin to a cozy three-bedroom suite with a small living room, kitchen, and bathroom. The red and gold gave off a warm vibe as though he was back in the Gryffindor common room. Then his gaze landed on the five adults that were all seated on the couches with their teacups and biscuits, relaxed and happy. 

         He felt the air sucked out of his lungs as he tensed. Yet he felt himself irresistibly drawn to them as his legs moved forward without his brain’s command as Mrs Potter guided him to the living room area. She seated him on one of the couches and also offered him some tea, which he accepted gratefully. He desperately needed something to do with his hands to hide his nervousness about the upcoming conversation.

         He glanced at the five people sitting around him, observing their features and mannerisms as if it was a fevered dream come true. They were alive, breathing members of the Potter family that he had always wanted to meet but never could… until now.

         The man sitting closest to him on his right, Fleamont Potter, had grizzled, greying hair with unconquered curls sprung unruly around his ears and nape. His right eye squinted quizzically through the monocle at him.

         “I am Lord Fleamont Potter, but please call me Fleamont. People keep forgetting that the title comes from having a family seat in the Wizengamot. I prefer to limit its use only in the proper setting, separate from my private life.”

         “As you wish, Fleamont,” Turais expected the lack of aloofness from the man but he was still surprised from the openness he displayed to the heir of a family they were in a feud with (an unofficial feud, that was).

         “And this is my wife, Euphemia,” Turais nodded at James’s mother, who looked slightly unnerved. Turais guessed that she was still worried that James had offended his family in some manner. “And you are the eldest son of Orion and Walburga Black?”

         Turais nodded. His lips felt parched and he licked it nervously under the unfamiliar weight of their gaze. He never felt quite so pressured to make a good impression before. And he really wanted them to like him.

         “Master Turais Black, you look just like Orion when he was your age - almost identical - except for those vibrant emerald eyes.” Turais turned to his left and faced a middle-aged woman who looked eerily similar to Bellatrix, with the long wavy shoulder-length hair and sharp facial features. However, her jaws and cheeks were softer while her eyes were also kinder, although Turais could still detected a sharp glint within those grey eyes though.

         “I presume you are great-aunt Dorea, pleasure to meet you. And please call me Turais,” Turais gave a little bow and Dorea tensed at the gesture.

         “Very well, Turais. And no need to bow to me. We, Potters, are less rigid people compared to your family. And please call me Dorea, I don’t need to be reminded of my age and status,” Dorea said as she gave him a tight smile.

         “As you wish... Dorea,” Turais said. The tension in the room was still palpable and Turais was starting to feel like he was unwelcomed. But who could blame the Potters? Ever since Dorea eloped with Charlus, then Lord Sirius Phineas Black, Arcturus’s father, stopped all official communication between the Black family and the Potter family. That was basically one step short of declaring an open feud between two families and Arcturus neither had the mind nor the incentive to change that. Hence, the two families had not been in direct contact with each other for at least three decades.

         And here Turais was, crashing into the Potter tent with the newest generation of Blacks as though the past thirty odd years of thinly-disguised feud never occurred.

         “So, does your father know you are running about and walking into a Potter tent?” Dorea asked carefully. “I’m sure you understand the delicate position that our families are in.”

         “No, we snuck out to explore the campsite,” Turais said truthfully. “And I understand the ongoing situation between us. But please believe me that I bear no ill intentions.” Upon his words, he felt some of the tension in the tent evaporated.

         “Well, well. I didn’t think I would live to see the day a Black ‘sneak out’ of anything but trouble,” a second man who Turais recognized as Charlus spoke. “Of course, besides you, Dorea. You snuck out on the Blacks - ouch!”

         Dorea stomped on her husband’s foot hastily and flushed as she saw Turais looking at her.

         “No offense taken, Dorea,” Turais said with a smile as Charlus scratched his head sheepishly. “Some branches of the family are problematic,” Turais pressed on to make a good impression. And, it was the truth. “My grandfather Pollux sent me a 16th-century vase that depicted the beheading of Muggles by wizards for my twelfth birthday, which was just blatantly distasteful. And my cousin Bellatrix is plain sadistic.”

         The Potters blinked at Turais’s words. Clearly they hadn’t expect a Black, an heir no less, to speak badly about his family.

         “Well, colour me surprised, Dorea. Kaiden is right; he is the rare sort. By the way, I’m Charlus, happily married to Dorea and unfortunately saddled with this broom-head dork,” Charlus shook Turais’s hand warmly as Kaiden scowled, looking mightily offended by his father’s words.

         “Dad! You’re embarrassing me!” Kaiden cried out.

         So Kaiden was indeed Dorea’s son who was attending Hogwarts. Turais also knew that Charlus, or Kaiden’s father, and Fleamont were third cousins. So Kaiden was almost as unrelated to James as purebloods sharing the same family name could possibly be. Stranger yet, Turais was technically second-cousins-once-removed with Kaiden through Dorea, making him more closely blood-related to Kaiden as Turais Black than when he was as Harry Potter (fourth-cousins-once-removed - did this even count as being related?). But in his mind, they were still indisputably part of the Potter family. 

         “Were you just humouring me with nods and affirmations, father ?” Kaiden snapped mildly at his father over his mother’s head.

         “Well, can you blame me, Kaiden? My mind still refuses to associate his face with what he just said,” Kaiden’s father responded. Then he peered at him inquisitively, “Are you sure you’re a Black?”

         “As much as you’re sure you’re a Potter, Charlus ,” Turais returned readily. Charlus blinked at the quick retort.

         “Well, you sound just like my wife here. Nice to meet you, Turais,” Charlus shook his hand. “I’ve heard many stories from Kaiden, many good things, in fact, which surprised me. If you would forgive me, but -”

         “Charlus, if I may be frank for a moment -” He had to address the erumpent in the room, “ - My father’s branch of the family is quite different from my mother’s. So if your perception of my brothers and I are solely based on Dorea’s immediate family or my maternal side, you are gravely mistaken. I implore you to keep an open mind,” Turais spoke firmly. “As Dorea should know, my maternal family’s influence on us is limited.”

         Dorea arched her thin eyebrows in surprise as she understood Turais’s veiled insinuation.

         “Of course, Turais. Please forgive us. It has been a long while since our families conversed cordially over a pot of tea,” Dorea smiled before moving to a safer topic. “How is Hogwarts treating you? Kaiden here is most excited about you. He never stops raving about you.”

         Dorea patted her son’s head and ran her hand through his hair. Kaiden shook his head in an attempt to stop the affectionate gesture.

         “Mum ! I’m almost seventeen -"

         "You've just turned fifteen -" Charlus interrupted.

         Kaiden paid no attention and continued protesting, "- and an adult. Can you stop petting my head? And it’s not my fault that all the first-year girls can’t stop gushing about the kind, clever, and handsome prince from Slytherin.”

         Turais felt his cheeks heat up uncomfortably as he blanched at a disturbing thought.

         “Aw, you’re blushing, Rais,” Kaiden smirked as he conveniently pointed out the painfully obvious fact. “Don’t worry, just wait until you get to fourth-year, imagine all the gifts you will receive -”

         “No, we’re not talking about my crushes, Kaiden,” Turais said exasperatedly but in good humour, “And my name is Turais , not Rais .”

         “Well, I ain’t calling you Too-Raise , ugh!” Kaiden made disgusted expression. “That such a mouthful -”

         “Why?” Turais sniped. “A two syllable word is too advanced for you, Kay ?”

         “Only one person has ever called me that. But I can make an exception for you, Rais,” Kaiden grinned impishly. Turais couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

         “Kaiden, stop teasing him,” Dorea scolded her son before turning her head back to Turais. Meanwhile Kaiden was making a funny face and sticking his tongue out behind his mum’s head. Turais cracked a smile as he shook his head. “He gets over-excited sometimes -”

         “Hey, that’s James you’re talking about. I’m all mature and got him to apologize to Sirius. Apologize ! He never does,” Kaiden said offendedly.

         “Yes, yes. Of course, you’ve achieved such a lofty achievement,” Charlus said dismissively. 

         “Well, I think it’s an achievement worthy of a new broomstick -” Kaiden started when his parents both scoffed at him.

         “Your Cleansweep works just fine -” said Dorea.

         “And you bought that last year -” Charlus finished the sentence.

         “But dad, the Nimbus 1700 is so much better! I can’t win the Quidditch Cup and I'm captain this year -” Kaiden whined.

         “Nice try, but it’s still a no -” Charlus shot down the idea.

         “Uncle Fleamont, how about my birthday -” Kaiden quickly turned to his uncle.

         “You’re not buying him another broom, Fleamont -” Euphemia turned to her husband.

         “Don’t look at me, you heard your mum, Kaiden,” Fleamont raised his hands in surrender and smiled apologetically.

         “Well Kay, have a Nimbus 1700 and you bet I’ll be getting on my House team this year. I will personally make sure you’re put in your proper place - which is - without the Quidditch Cup,” Turais teased as Kaiden groaned in his hands.

         “Urgh, maaa ! A second-year has a better broom than a fifth-year Quidditch team captain -" Kaiden sobered up suddenly, " - Wait, what position are you planning on taking?" 

         "Seeker -"

         "Maaaa!  A Seeker that has the best broom on the market. We'll never stand a chance. How’s that fair?” Kaiden whined again.

         “It’s not fair, that’s sort of the point,” Turais pointed out. Kaiden let out a screech similar to the dying wail of a banshee.

         “Turais - do me a favour and stop riling him up,” Charlus said as he side-eyed his dramatic son, who had now collapsed onto the couch messily. “Especially if you’re not helping to clean up this mess of a human.”

         “The Potter ancestors are turning in their graves that a Black has beaten us to a better broom,” Kaiden cried out.

         “I’ll go ask their portraits for you,” Turais said with a grin. “I’m certain they are perfectly content.” And he knew that for a fact.

         Kaiden shot up and glared at him. "You're some clever clogs, aren't you?" He turned dramatically towards her mother and gestured the offending boy across him. “Maaaa!  Look at what I have to deal with!”

         “Yes, yes. I see a sweet young man who can control your unruly behaviour,” Dorea said as she winked at Turais. Kaiden looked betrayed.

         "Dad! You have seen me play. You know how good I am. If I can have a Nimbus, I will definitely snag the Cup!" Kaiden said pleadingly. "Turais, tell them!"

         "I... uh... I actually haven't seen you play..." Turais admitted. "I didn't even know you were on the team until James told me."

         Kaiden stared at Turais with slacked jaws. 

         "H...how - what? - huh?" he asked incomprehensibly. "I played three games this year, wait, only two actually because..." Kaiden's expression turned sheepish.

         "Because this bumbling fool accidentally squirted bubotuber pus into his eye the day before the Gryffindor-Slytherin match," Charlus completed the sentence as Kaiden flushed. "Thank Merlin that you're not so irreplaceable that they managed to squeak out a win without you."

         "Oh! You were the Chaser that was substituted out for that match," Turais suddenly recalled.

         "Yeah..." Kaiden rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Then, he quickly reverted back to his whining tactics once more. “Maaa!  But a Nimbus -”

         “Did I hear Nimbus ? Can get a broomstick?” James shouted as he emerged from his sleeping area.

         “NO!” All the adults in the room shouted. Turais couldn’t help but laugh alongside the family. 

         “No Nimbus for me -” Kaiden said dejectedly.

         “Well, I don’t even have a broom, Kaiden,” James complained as well. Turais saw the adults grimace. Clearly this conversation happened quite often. He looked around the room and took in the sight of the six Potters in front of him. He could almost imagine what could have been if Voldemort didn't try to take over the world. He would have been in this room as the legitimate seventh Potter. But despite the imperfection, Turais wanted to be in their presence in whatever capacity possible. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave this place but he also knew not to overstay his welcome on the first visit.

         Schooling his voice, he spoke up teasingly, “Well, this is a conversation I surely do not want to engage in.” Turais placed his tea on the side table and stood up. “And I think it is about time I take Sirius and Regulus back to our tent before my father finds us missing.”

         “Of course, we wouldn’t want to get you into trouble,” Dorea said quickly as she stood up. “James, go tell your friends that it’s time to leave.”

         James ran out of view and after a minute, brought out a disgruntled Sirius who was dragging his feet. Regulus, on the other hand, quickly walked over to Turais's side. 

         “Turais, can we stay for a bit longer ? James has the gold version of Bertie Bott!” Sirius whined.

         Bertie Bott was a very rare card and the special gold version was one of the most exclusive cards in the collection. It was rumoured that there were only 77 cards in circulation.

         “Siri, remember rule number three?” Turais reminded his brother. “We don’t want to have father becoming worried.”

         “But Turais -”

         “Sirius, now ,” Turais said firmly.

         “Turais -”

         “Sirius!  I will not repeat myself.” Turais said with a rarely-utilized authoritative voice that caused everyone to jump at the tone. Then he said in a normal voice, “Say goodbye to James and the Potters, we can visit them after the match if they are fine with it. Okay?”

         Sirius nodded quickly and obeyed.

         “Of course, you can visit anytime, Sirius,” James said before asking his mother. “Right, mum?”

         “Yes, of course, dear,” Euphemia smiled. This time, it felt relaxed and genuine.

         “Bye, everyone. Bye, James,” Sirius and Regulus said.

         “Thank you for your hospitality. It was a pleasure to meet all of you,” said Turais. As he exited the tent, he couldn't resist the temptation and took one final glance at the family. His gaze connected with Dorea, and very briefly, Turais froze. However, she smiled and Turais relaxed. He gave a polite nod and the gesture was returned. 

         Miraculously, Orion did not notice that his sons were missing. Their father appeared barely a minute after they had returned to their tents and told them to get ready in an hour for a quick meal before heading over to the stadium ahead of the crowd.

         Turais took the opportunity to hide himself in his room to process what had just transpired.

         His family. All so alive. So energetic. So Potter. They were so much better than he could ever imagine and beyond his wildest imaginations. Their portraits were a pale imitation of their true personalities... and the friendly banters without heat or worry of offending anyone, unlike the way he had lived for the past decade where he had to consider his every word, plan his every move, analyze everyone's intentions and motives...

         Seeing them had caused something to rupture deep inside him, as though a heavily scarred wound had been rubbed raw and bleeding once more...

         Turais felt a small splatter of liquid on the back of his hand and realized that he was crying. Tears of regret in his previous lifetime and tears of joy of a gained opportunity in this one. Turais would make sure to protect them with all his might.

         He must.

         Not only for him. But also the Harry Potter of this timeline.

 

***

 

         The next several hours were filled with laughter passed by quickly until it was finally time to head up to main event of the day. On their way to the stadium, Orion purchased some ridiculously overpriced Omnioculars for everyone and followed the largely empty lantern-lit trail towards the gigantic stadium. Turais stared up the tremendously tall gold walls and sideways to the seemingly never-ending structure in awe.

         “This stadium seats around seventy thousand people,” Orion explained as they headed towards the ticket witch at the entrance and handed her the tickets. This was the Black brothers’ first World Cup games, hence, this made the treat all the more special.

         “Top box tickets!” The witch exclaimed as she checked their tickets. “As high as you can go, Mr Black.” 

         The Black household entered the almost-empty stadium as they climbed up the stairs. Passing by numerous doorways to their left and right that led to various floors and seats, they continued to climb until they found themselves looking up at one of nine small boxes in a column that extended higher than the rest of the stadium like the horn of a mountain. Six of the lower boxes housed seven people each while the top three boxes could fit a large group of thirty people. All of these boxes were located at the highest point of the stadium and exactly halfway between the goalposts. They had the best views that money and power could buy in this tournament. 

         “Top Box Five - the Black family. Please follow me,” one of the many Canadian Ministry guards that stood between them and the boxes checked their tickets and directed them to their designated location. Turais guessed that the increase in security was due to the gathering of the most prominent members of society in this tiny sliver of space. As they passed the gates, the wooden stairs that they trudged up on were now covered by thick, heavy purple carpets with golden handlebars that reflected the status of the guests who used them.

         Once they reached the box, they found that Arcturus and Melania were already seated together in one end of the line of seven purple armchairs. Beside the seats laid a lavish spread of local delicacies and snacks: caviar, salmon, honey, Angus beef sliders, Okanagan red wine, a basket of locally-grown fruits, and a constantly refilling plate of Pommel’s Canadian Oak-aged mead bottles.

         'Pommel,' Turais thought, 'That name sounds oddly familiar.'

         “Father, mother! I see that you have beaten us to our seats. Brilliant view, isn’t it?” Orion greeted his parents, gesturing the panoramic view of the entire Quidditch pitch and the advertisements that flashed brilliantly above the empty pitch. Orion immediately opened up a bottle of red wine and sampled its content.

         “Of course it is,” Arcturus said sharply. “I am, however, disappointed to have just found out that Abraxas Malfoy succeeded in snagging Top Box Four with his very generous donation to the Canadian Ministry’s Department of Magical Sports and Recreations.”

         “But, grandfather, this is actually a blessing in disguise. Top Box Number Three contains the family members of the English team. Do you really  want to be directly below all the thumping, screaming, and wallowing?” Turais pointed out as Arcturus considered his arguments. After a moment, Arcturus seemed to have accepted that the potential suffering of the Malfoys was enough to appease his wounded pride and he relaxed his frown. Turais shot Orion a small grin and received one in return.

         As they waited, thousands and thousands of witches and wizards began to fill their seats and the stadium steadily grew louder and noisier. The boxes above and below them also filled gradually. Turais was beside the adults greeting and meeting various important Canadian, British, and Liechtensteinian Ministry officials.

         Various family members of the Liechtenstein and England Quidditch teams greeted them as they passed by to reach the reserved Top Boxes Two and Three. During the greetings, Turais recognized some of their last names from famous Quidditch players from the Quidditch league teams, such as Quigley and Gerard. Turais almost gave an undignified squeak when he met the older brother of the star Seeker for the Team England, Collin Westermont. Orion gave him an amused look after the encounter as Turais blushed at his embarrassing fumble.

         They also met the prominent Canadian and American magical families...

         "Turais!" Emma shouted as she climbed up the stairs with her family behind her. Eustace, Mr and Mrs Pommel were also present. Emma ran over and gave Turais a big hug.

         "Oh hello, Emma. Eustace," Turais greeted as he saw Orion and Arcturus raise their eyebrows. He was so caught out this time.

         "Oh, dear me," Mrs Pommel said in pleasantly surprise. "I didn't know that our kids have met before today."

         "I'm sure they've just met today," Orion said with a knowing look while Mrs Pommel blinked in confusion. As the adults made small talk, Turais and Eustace engaged in their own conversation.

         "I guess that's what you meant by 'next time will be soon than I think'," Turais muttered as he shook hands with him.

         "You're busted, aren't you?" Eustace said with sympathy. "Sorry 'bout that. I just knew you were on the guest list in the Top Boxes so there was a good chance we'd meet here."

         "Well, I should have known. Your family sponsored half the event and your labelled mead is everywhere," Turais admitted.

         "You're not in any trouble, are you?"

         "Don't worry," Turais said as he eyed his father. "I'll survive."

         Eustace grimaced.

         As it appeared, the Canadian Berrycloths and Pommels were guests of the Canadian Ministry in Top Box One. The American Perrys and Bonnevilles scored Boxes Six and Seven below them while the French Lefévres landed with the eighth box. Turais greeted his fellow Slytherin first-year, Stefanie Smethwyck, when he saw her arrive with the Lefévre party and they were very excited to see each other in a place thousands of miles away from home.

         When the movement around the Top Box trickled down, Turais excused himself and rejoined his brothers and Alex to look out into the stadium, soaking up every single detail of the largest event in the Magical World without the worries of an impending Death Eaters attack. 

         “HEY, SIRIUS!” James Potter’s voice sounded out from below. Turais leaned forward slightly over the railing and saw the entire Potter household... and Wilkins... standing four boxes down from theirs.

         “HEY, JAMES!” Sirius waved at the boy below. Turais turned to see the adults raising their eyebrows questioningly. 

         “Sirius met James Potter in Diagon Alley a few times over the two summers and they became fast friends,” Turais offered the half-truth as he ignored the portion where they were at odds for those encounters and then reconciled today.

         “Oh, really?” Orion asked. “I was under the impression that they were… unfriendly… unless something happened between last month and… today ?”

         Orion gave Turais a piercing look and he gulped. 

          ‘He knows.’

         “Father, I will explain everything afterwards. It is a complicated story."

         “Hmmpf… I wonder what magic Fleamont Potter used to snag those tickets, I never thought of him as an avid Quidditch fan...” Arcturus muttered to himself before addressing his grandsons. “The Potters are a Light family and they do not treat families like us with the respect we deserve. But … since Sirius -" Arcturus’s expression flashed on annoyance, " - has reacted to the call of that Potter boy, and etiquette dictates that we must engage with them... Sirius -” Sirius snapped to attention and froze. “ - please sharpen up your act, I do not want to be embarrassed by your behaviour any further.” Arcturus motioned to leave their box and travel to the Potters’ box.

         Turais was now relieved that they have met the Potters prior to the match and had an ice-breaker conversation about his family. At least the Potters would not be openly hostile towards them. Hopefully, Arcturus's sharp tongue would not be too scathing. But Turais could only hope.

         After climbing several staircases down and nodding at the newly acquainted Amercian and French families, they reached Top Box Nine. As Arcturus came into view, everyone in the box stood up. 

         “Lord Black,” Fleamont walked up to Arcturus and shook his hand. “I did not expect to see you.”

         This was quite a monumental moment. Lord Black and Lord Potter conversing with each other. This was a first in many years.

         “In the Top Box or in your box? Lord Potter,” Arcturus returned with a slight mockery in his tone.

         Fleamont laughed joyfully as though Arcturus had just said an especially funny joke. “Both, Lord Black -” Arcturus’s face remained impassive. “ - but it is because I couldn’t believe we managed retrieve Top Box tickets - it was a bit of a surprise. But I’m glad we managed to obtain them, especially since we watched England win the quarter- and semi-final here as well.” Turais looked closely at the boy, who stood beside Kaiden and did not share any resemblance with the Potter family, and widened his eyes in realization.

         "Nice to see you well, Dorea," Arcturus stepped forward to greet his estranged relative.

         "You look well yourself, Lord Black," Dorea curtsied.

         Pointedly ignoring Charlus, Arcturus immediately turned to the odd Slytherin in the room. “Ah, you must Carmichael Wilkins, a surprise to see you here with the Potters ,” Arcturus shook hands with the boy with dark hair, hazelnut eyes, and a strong facial features that was arranged with a frown that largely contrasted the mostly jovial expressions of the Potters.

         “Pleasure to meet you too, Lord Black. Lord Potter heard of my immense interest in Quidditch through his nephew and I am very grateful for his invitation to the Top Box,” the boy said with a frown.

         “I did not realize your two families shared such a strong bond,” Arcturus said inquiringly. 

         “Oh, I wouldn’t put it as such. Kaiden shares the same intense passion for the sport as Carmichael and they respect each other immensely both on the Quidditch pitch and off. Now that Carmichael is turning sixteen in under a week, I just couldn’t resist to treat this as an early birthday present considering we had a spare seventh ticket.”

         “Of course, that is quite generous of you," Orion said pleasantly. "I have heard that Carmichael is quite the Quidditch expert. Please allow me to congratulate you on becoming Slytherin Quidditch Team captain -” Orion continued with a slightly less warming tone as he turned to Kaiden and said, “- and to you as well, Kaiden Potter, for becoming the captain for Gryffindor.”

         “Thank you, Master Black,” Kaiden responded stiffly.

         “Well, I wish you good luck, although I’m afraid I have a vested interest with the Slytherins," Orion said cordially. "Furthermore, Turais, my eldest son here, intends to try out for the team once he returns to school.”

         Fleamont laughed at his words. “No harm, Master Black. There is more than enough support for the Gryffindors in my own household, especially when one of our own is on the team,” Fleamont said and gestured his son, James. “Well, my son James is quite excited to spot your second son, Sirius. I was wondering if you could spare him for a moment so they can reacquaint themselves?”

         Arcturus looked like he was on the verge of refusing when Turais stepped in, "Grandfather, I would like to chat with Wilkins regarding the Quidditch trials this year as well."

         He considered Turais's words for a moment, his eyes flashing knowingly at the excited Sirius, before relenting.

         “Very well. Please be careful,” Arcturus said to Turais, although everyone knew the words were directed to Sirius. “We will head back to our box then, Lord Potter. Please enjoy the match.”

         “Of course, Lord Black. You as well. I will ensure that Sirius is returned safely to your hands,” Fleamont said.

         Turais turned to the adults and said, “Grandfather, I will follow you up shortly.” Arcturus nodded and beckoned Melania and Orion to follow him. Sirius and James were bubbling with excitement but held their composure until the adults went out of sight. Turais said to Sirius, “Okay, Siri. Do not annoy the Potters or Wilkins, do you understand?” 

         Sirius nodded absent-mindedly before he bounced into the box and started to chat with James animatedly. Turais nodded at Wilkins, who narrowed his eyes at him, before asking Regulus, “Reggie, do you want to join them?”

         Regulus shook his head and Turais brought him back to their box after a quick wave at the Potters and at Wilkins.

         As they climbed up the wooden staircase, a familiar figure with long, pale hair stood atop their designated landing.

         "Black, fancy seeing you here," the older boy drawled as he shifted his cane from one hand to the other.

         "Likewise, Malfoy," Turais said.

         "I see you have lost a brother along the way," Malfoy said. "I do fear for your family. I don't know how much shock your allies can take from having two unconventional sons of Black," Malfoy looked at Regulus, "Perhaps that's why there's a third. For the likely case that both you and Sirius leads your family to ruins, at least someone will survive your family's legacy."

         "Fighting words, Malfoy," Turais said as his arm wrapped around Regulus defensively. "I'll ensure that our family is the one that comes out on top through this impending conflict."

         "Impending conflict?" Malfoy chuckled. "The last one never ended."

         On that note, he turned and left the landing.

         After a moment, Turais collected himself and guided Regulus up the stairs. When he reached the family box, he found Arcturus engaged in a conversation with none other than the Minister of Magic, Eugenia Jenkins, and Abraxas Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was stood beside his father and merely arched a brow when Turais arrived. The Ministry aides hovered beside and glanced nervously between three of the biggest players in the current British political world - only Dumbledore was amiss.

         “ - air is cleaner the higher up you are, Arcturus,” Abraxas Malfoy said.

         “I quite agree, Abraxas. And nice to meet you too, Minister. I hope the riots are not giving you too much of a headache?” Arcturus asked casually.

         Eugenia Jenkins pursued her lips as she narrowed her hawk-like yellow eyes at his grandfather. After a moment, she spoke in a crisp, authoritative tone, “Thank you for your concern, Lord Black. The arrests and raids have been very successful, however, I have become quite impatient with the lack of verdicts from both the High Court and the Grand Jury Court on the recent... incidents. Pray tell, what I can do to remedy the situation?”

         “Now, Minister. Our court is overwhelmed with the amount of cases that your highly effective Aurors Office has presented. They are simply arresting too many people for crimes that lacked any incriminating evidence and most of which I believe would turn out to be frivolous lawsuits,” Abraxas Malfoy smirked at the Minister’s thinning lips. “Perhaps you could consider an amnesty as we have discussed previously?”

         One way Abraxas Malfoy amassed power and influence was by slow-walking and staying many cases that implicated his allies. Due to the High Court’s jurisdiction of appealing cases and overseeing new trials, he could effectively stall and delay any minor cases indefinitely by overturning rulings and controlling the appeals process. This was particularly effective at controlling his allies as the difference between any time spent in Azkaban to house arrest was enormous for any family.

         Arcturus Black’s Grand Jury Court dealt with more severe cases, such as murder and usage of Unforgivables. Due to the nature of those cases, which would inevitably end with at least a sentence in Azkaban, was less readily useful for controlling allies as the difference between one year or one month in Azkaban was negligible to most. Azkaban was, well, Azkaban .

         “Abraxas, my friend, my Court will continue to extend our offer to take on some of the more sensitive cases from you -” Arcturus glanced mildly at his fellow Lord. “ - we are always here to help whenever you are willing to accept it.”

         “I doubt that would do any good, Arcturus. The Guilford case has been passed to your Court for nearly five months now and I have hardly received any news of its advancement,” Abraxas Malfoy responded. 

         “I know that you have special interest in this case and I will forgive you for your rash overstepping,” Arcturus said as Malfoy senior bristled, “If I recall, your Court spent one year on an assault and theft charge combing through the intricancies, I assure you that a murder charge requires an even closer scrutiny. However, I promise you that more straight-forward and well-established cases would easily be fast-tracked. Wouldn’t you agree, Minister?”

         Minister Jenkins glared at both men who had given her much grievances in the Ministry with thinly-veiled contempt. However, she had decided that one of them was the lesser of two evils and gritted out, “Of course, Lord Black. The DMLE might see fit to amend the charges of certain high-profile individuals -”

         "Now, Minister. I'm sure that wouldn't be wise," Malfoy said. "I maintain that the individuals arrested are purely based on circumstantial evidence, which would never be strong enough as evidence to push for an Azkaban ruling. Furthermore, you have a vested interest in keeping these cases low-profile. And the best way to do that is through me."

         Minister Jenkins considered his words, but something hardened in her gaze as she was about to speak.

         “Now, Minister. We are at the Quidditch World Cup finals,” Abraxas Malfoy interrupted hastily, clearly disliking what he saw on the Minister's face. “Dry talks of politics has no place in this festivity -”

         To Abraxas Malfoy’s rescue, the voice of the Canadian Department Head of Magical Sports and Recreations boomed from the Top Box One. “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and sixteenth Quidditch World Cup!”

         The spectators screamed, shouted, and clapped as thousands of flags waved in the air. Amidst the raucous noise, Minister Jenkins quickly excused herself to rejoin the British delegation at Box One while the Malfoys headed to the box above them. Sirius also appeared with Kaiden Potter right behind him. Turais mouthed a thank you at Kaiden, who waved goodbye before he disappeared, as nothing could be heard over the intense noises. The Black household reentered their box as the final match was about to begin. Turais looked out to see the large advertisement board had now become a black scoreboard that showed in a small message from the titular sponsor of this edition of the Quidditch World Cup showed above the country names, “ Pommel’s Canadian Oak-aged Mead: Proudly Canadian since 1763 - presents: ”. Directly below and in bold, white font shouted the words “ENGLAND: ZERO, LIECHTENSTEIN: ZERO”.

         “And now, the England National Team Mascot!”

         The entire stadium roared in approval for the English team as an even louder, yet oddly musical, roar sounded from outside the stadium. Three juvenile Common Welsh Greens circled the stadium as they swooped down towards the pitch while dragon trainers circled around them on their brooms. There were screams and shouts at the sight, but they were quickly drowned by the yelling and applause as the dragons executed an intricate flying pattern over the pitch with no signs of endangering the crowd. On occasion, they roared in melodious synchronicity and fired narrow jets of flames in the air.

         “How did we manage to transport dragons as our mascot?” Turais gasped at the grand display.

         “The British Ministry pulled out all the stops when they saw that the English team had a chance to make it to the final match,” Arcturus explained as his face reflected the bright flashes of green flames. “And no one would dream of opposing such a majestic entrance for the English team.”

         After what felt like an extremely short performance, they flew out of the stadium as the entire stadium was on their feet with the amazing show.

         “I will now present, the Liechtenstein National Team Mascot!”

         A small quadrant of people in the left-side roared in approval as the rest of the stadium gasped and voiced numerous “oohs” and “aaws” as a flood of crups ran into the pitch as their collective yips sounded throughout the stadium. They organized themselves into a large shape that resembled a crup with its characteristic forked tail, then it reorganized into the flag of Liechtenstein, and then the names of each of the players on the Liechtenstein National Quidditch Team.

         "While crups are cute, I'd think it would be wise to change their mascot into something more ... grandiose," Orion commented.

         Turais nodded, but he didn't have the heart to tell Orion that the Liechtenstein team would officially change their mascot to an augurey named Hans. Turais thought the crups were waaay better than that oversized and malnourished-looking bird.

         As they exited the stadium, the crowd applauded politely and settled down for the commencement of the match.

         “And now, ladies and gentlemen. Please give a loud welcome to the England National Quidditch Team! I present to you - Bagsworth!”

         A speck of white shot out onto the pitch from far below them to the feverish cheers of the entire stadium. It seemed as though the entire British Wizarding population turned up for this event (which was probably actually what happened).

         “Gerard! Quigley! James! Jones! Zachary! Aaaaand - Westermont!”

         Turais held his Omnioculars and focused on the Seeker. Turais dialed his Omnioculars on slow-motion as he rewatched the entrance of the blonde, fair skin lady with delicate facial features fly gracefully into the pitch. Suddenly, he felt a nudge at his shoulder.

         Turias looked away from his Omnioculars just to see his father’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Snap out of your daze, Turais, you’re drooling -” Turais quickly wiped at the corner of his mouth with his right sleeve and saw the wet patch on his robe afterwards. His face burned up in indignation and his father lips quirked up. “ - and you’re about to miss the entrance of the Liechtensteinian team.”

         Turais realized that the English team had already finished their lap around the stadium and were hovering at the goalposts at the right side of the stadium.

         “And now, the Liechtenstein National Quidditch Team! I present to you - Konzett! Vogt! Wenzel! Frommelt! Frommelt! Frommelt! Aaaand Frommelt!”

         Seven blue figures shot out onto the pitch one after another and proceeded to circle the stadium.

         “Thank Hecate for small mercies,” Arcturus spoke as he watched the procession in a laid-back manner as he poured out some mead into a frosted crystal water goblet and sampled it. Clearly fitting his palate, he sipped a bit more of the golden liquid. “At least none of them are Chasers, or else this match would’ve been impossible to follow.” 

         Turais agreed whole-heartedly.

         “And now we present our referee from Japan, Chairwitch of the International Association of Quidditch, Fuyumi Akiyama!”

         A Japanese lady with black hair that was tied into a tight bun and wearing the standard pure gold referee robes strode out onto the pitch with a glistening silver whistle between her lips and a wooden crate levitated behind her. She mounted her broom, a Nimbus 1701 that was not available for purchase yet, and kicked open the crate as the four balls burst into the air. She blasted a shrill sound from the silver object as she flew after the scarlet Quaffle, the only visible object as the Bludgers and the Snitch had already disappeared, and signaled the start of the match.

         “And they’re OFF!” The Canadian shouted over the excited roars of the crowd. “And Bagsworth holds first possession! To Gerard! Quigley! Gerard! Konzett! Wenzel! Back to Quigley!”

         The passes between the players were so quick that Turais could not keep track even with the aid of the Ominoculars. Learning from experience, he kept the speed dialed to ‘normal’ despite the difficulty to follow for he would miss all the real-time action in ‘slow’ speed and clicked the ‘instant play by play’ button to understand the various tactics each team was deploying. 

         “Gerard! Quigley! Gerard! Quigley! GERARD SCORES!”

         The stadium shook in excitement from the stomping and cheers. The English team executed a perfect ‘Formation Looping’ where two Chasers went parallel with each other and quickly passed the Quaffle between them in rapid succession until one of them could score at the goalposts.

         "GO PATRICK!" Sirius screamed out as he leaped and stood up on his seat. "GET THAT TRIPLE HAT-TRICK!"

         “Ten-zero to England!”

         “Now Vogt! Wenzel! Quigley!” The Liechtensteinian Frommett twins smashed a Bludger towards Quigley at the same time for a ‘Doppelbeater Defence’ as the extra fast Bludger punched into the English Chaser’s stomach and causing him to drop the scarlet ball, which was quickly confiscated by Konzett from below.

         “Konzett! Vogt! Wenzel!” Wenzel raised his arm to score, or so Turais thought, when he suddenly threw the Quaffle directly below him and out of view while Keeper Zachary flew to intercept him, leaving the lower goalposts unguarded.

         “KONZETT SCORES!” Konzett turned out to be directly below her teammate as they used the ‘ Porskoff Pass ’ to divert the Keeper’s attention. 

         “Ten-ten tie!”

         "Gerard! Quigley! Wenzel! Gerard! Konzett! Bagsworth! Foul! "

         The English supporters chanted "Foul!" as they saw the Liechtensteinian Chaser crash violently into the English Chaser. 

         "Penalty for England!" shouted the Canadian official as the English crowd roared in approval.

         In the next twenty minutes, a flurry of changes in Quaffle possessions, thanks to the sharp aims from either teams’ Beaters, resulted in a steady trading of points. Now the score stood at forty-forty for both teams.

         The match became faster and more brutal as the Beaters no longer held back and smashed the Bludgers with all their might at the opposing players while all the Chasers were battered and bruised from their attacks. Given that neither team was able to gain a decisive edge over the opposing team, it was increasingly apparent that the match would be decided by the catching of the Snitch. 

         Suddenly, Turais watched as Konzett zoomed past the English Keeper when another English player zoomed directly in front of her as she crashed into him. A whistled blasted as Akiyama signaled a foul by the English side. The English team was circling the referee and arguing with her heated while the entire stadium “booed” at the decision. The Crups were yipping enthusiastically at the outcome, however, and they leaped up and down en masse adorably. The crowd responded accordingly, temporarily distracted by the adorable display of elation.

         “Dangerous body block by James! A penalty to Liechtenstein!” 

         Afterwards, the two sides were still at an impasse while neither team saw another penalty in a surprisingly clean match. Turais suspected that was because neither team was losing desperately by large margins and placed their hopes on their respective Seekers while aiming to keep the game tight.

         "GO SIMON!" Regulus shouted. "ALMOST THERE!"

         “QUIGLEY SCORES! -" Regulus made an ear-deafening shout that Turais never thought he was capable of. "One hundred and ten - one hundred to Eng- Westermont makes a dive!”

         Turais gasped as he saw his favourite player dive down as her blonde ponytail streaked behind her head with her right arm stretched impossibly far in front to reach for the evading Snitch.

         “Westermont has spotted the Snitch! Father!” screamed Turais as he stood up in excitement.

         “Where’s the Snit-” Alex asked.

         “Right there!” Turais yelled as though Alex would find it just from that vague instruction but he couldn’t focus on explaining right now.

         The entire crowd was screaming and the three dragons were roaring for their Seeker to catch the Snitch for England. However…

         “Frommett is coming from behind!” Turais screamed.

         Frommett gained on Westermont inch by inch as his arm was now parallel to her - broomtail, waist, shoulder - while they both zoomed incredibly quickly after the golden ball. But the pitch ground was fast approaching… 

         “No, they are going to crash!” Turais watched in horror as both Seekers steered into each other in an attempt to pull up. But they tangled into each other just before crashing and tumbled onto the ground with a heavy thud and a sickening crack. Turais could see a broom snapped into two halves while the players laid in a heap beside it on the ground, unmoving. The entire stadium inhaled a shocked breath as they waited for the fate of both Seekers.

         “What is happening?” Turais shrieked but his eyes were still glued onto his Omnioculars at the unfolding scene. Two teams of medi-wizards rushed to the site. 

         “Both Seekers are currently out of action. The referee has called a time-out. Medi-wizards are currently rushing to their aid.”

         One of the mediwizards waved at the referee frantically as she flew down towards the pitch and conversed with them. They had already separated the two unconscious players and were transporting them off to the sidelines of the pitch while Akiyama approached where the bodies once lied. There, she reached into the shallow pit of upturned grass and dirt to pick up a golden ball…

         “It’s the Snitch! It’s not moving - someone caught the Snitch!” Turais shouted as the Canadian confirmed the news.

         “The referee has confirmed that the Snitch has been caught by one of the Seekers! The match is over! But there will be a delay in the results as she will have to confirm with the presiding metal-charmer for the golden Snitch’s flesh memory and ‘first touch’. Whoever touched the Snitch first has just won their team and country the four hundred and sixteenth edition of the Quidditch World Cup.”

         Turais watched as the referee mounted her broom and flew into the tunnel.

         “All golden Snitches have never been touched by a bare hand since its creation as the makers wore gloves at all times. This is to ensure that whenever there is a disputed catch, the flesh memory of the Snitch will provide the knowledge of whoever came into contact with the Snitch first -”

         The murmurs in the crowd turned into thunderous applause as the two Seekers were regaining consciousness.

         “- and of course, in the case of a Snitchnip, flesh memory can confirm which team’s player committed the foul - and the referee has returned from the review!”

         Turais saw the referee re-emerge from the tunnel and walked towards both teams that had already assembled themselves without their Seekers in the centre of the pitch, hovering just above the ground.

         “The referee has just confirmed the results and - WESTERMONT HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! ENGLAND: TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY, LIECHTENSTEIN: ONE HUNDRED! ENGLAND WINS!”

         The black scoreboard turned green as the white letters and numbers turned gold in confirmation of the final score. The entire stadium erupted into screams of delight as they realized that England had just won the Quidditch World Cup.

         “This is England’s first appearance in the final match in more than a century and its first Quidditch World Cup win in the same amount of time. Let’s hope it takes them less time for their next one! What an amazing game!” The Canadian concluded his commentary as he cancelled the Sonorous charm.

         “Westermont caught the Snitch, father! Westermont caught the Snitch! She was brilliant! I - ” Turais stopped when he finally removed his eyes from his Omnioculars to see the adults look at him with a slightly appalled but mostly amused expression. “Um… I mean - I just think she’s quite brilliant!”

         “Now,” Orion shouted over the cheering crowd and smirked at his son’s embarrassed look. “Freshen yourself up. Westermont looks like she’s up and you’ll see her very soon!”

         Turais looked out into the pitch to see the English Seeker supported by her elated teammates as they landed from their victory lap. Turais looked into the Omnioculars to see her tired but brilliant smile with her hair tossed messily around her face.

         “Hey Turais, come on with me to the Box One,” Arcturus motioned Turais to follow him as they climbed up to the very top where they found a large platform enough for sixty people to comfortably stand around. There, he saw a mixture of Canadian, British, and Liechtensteinian officials mingling along with the Malfoys, Berryclothes, and Pommels. A tall, lean man was staying at the very front of the platform with his wand to his neck and announced, “The Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!”

         A dazzling white light illuminated the entire stadium as two wizards carried a vast golden cup from a secured room at the back of the box and handed it to the Canadian Minister of Magic. 

         “Let’s put our hands together for the gallant runner-ups - Liechtenstein!”

         Behind Turais, a stream of seven tired and mildly disappointed Liechtensteinian players climbed atop the stairs and passed by him to enter the box. The crowd was clapping energetically for this tiny country that outperformed all nations but one. The Seeker Frommett had to be carried by his twin brothers, the Beaters, to his seat. 

         “And I am now pleased to announce the winner of this edition’s Quidditch World Cup - England!”

         The entire English team walked in on their own two feet, grinning happily as the Canadian Minister invited Minister Jenkins to present the Cup with her. The two women lifted the Cup for the crowd to see and transferred it to Gerard, the English team captain. The crowd roared with approval as he showcased the Cup. Then he looked back to beckon the limping Seeker forward and shared the Cup with her as they both lifted the Cup with the entire team surrounding them in the thunderous applause.

Notes:

Logo credits (for vector usage):
https://images.app.goo.gl/wifPPudWKfTia1j2A (Quidditch player in Liechtenstein team)
https://www.aliexpress.com/item/32835233796.html (Quidditch player in England team)

- ravenclawblues 2019-12-19

Chapter 20: The Serpent's Lair (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I will be heading for vacation so I am posting next week's chapter early.

Everyone enjoy your vacation and see you next year!

As always, I’d love to hear from you.

- ravenclawblues 2019-12-23

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY

THE SERPENT'S LAIR


 

August 23, 1970 (Sunday)

 

WESTERMONT’S MAJESTY EMBLAZONS ENGLAND TRIUMPH

by A. Carnierus, Quidditch Correspondent

England 260 : 100 Liechtenstein

 

Rejoice! To the accompaniment of expression of praise, thanksgiving, and in some cases, utter disbelief, England became Quidditch champions of the world by defeating Liechtenstein on August 22, 1970 at White Goat, Canada. This day marked the first time in a century that England has reclaimed the throne...


***

 

         Before Turais knew it, the rest of summer had passed by. He had finished saying his teary goodbyes to his family just an hour ago and was now barreling towards Hogwarts on the scarlet train. Standing alone in the train corridor, he looked out at the dark, ominous clouds that hung lowly on the horizon as he flipped a coin in his hand.

         “Safely on train?” was the phrase that was currently showing on the fake Galleon in Turais's hand. It was the sole method of secure and discreet communication with Andromeda over summer. Fortunately, it seemed as though Andromeda's prediction was correct as she responded in affirmation to Turais's every inquiry for her well-being.

         Suddenly, the coin flashed as if it managed to capture light from a nearby light source and reflected it squarely in Turais's face.

         The previous phrase around the rim of the coin was now replaced by: “Yes, all is well.”

         Breathing out in relief, Turais quickly tapped a reply, “See you at Hogwarts,” before putting the coin in his robe pocket securely. As he was walking back to his compartment, a large object suddenly collided against his back.

         “Oompf! ” Turais gasped as he sprawled on the ground with a much larger boy with messy black hair and grey eyes on top of him. They were lying flat in front of another compartment where the first-years looked on with interest and amusement.

         “Kaiden! Gerroff me!” Turais’s shout was muffled by a mouthful of fabric.

         “Hi, Rais! How was the rest of your summer? Mine was spiffing, thanks for asking!” Kaiden mercifully clambered off Turais’s body as he started to stand back up.

         "I thought you were supposed to be the mature one,” Turais scowled as he patted his robes to get rid of the dust.

         “Well, James is not here so I will be both the mature and immature one,” Kaiden grinned at Turais’s annoyed look.

         “Aren’t you just a little too friendly  to someone who you’ve met for the third time?” Turais wanted to maintain the scowl but he found his lips twitching in amusement. It was good to interact with another Potter.

         “Technically fourth time, Rais. Remember the snake-hissing stunt you pulled in front of the greenhouses?” Kaiden smirked.

         “Snake-hissing? Your vocabulary is severely lacking for an almost-adult,” Turais scoffed. Kaiden ignored the jab.

         “- back to your question. What can I say, Rais? We share some of our handsome looks and  I feel like there’s the soul of a Potter somewhere in there waiting to take over,” Kaiden poked playfully at his chest. “Don't ask me why, but I just feel like you are part of the family… like you are my long-lost brother. But I guess you are my cousin if nothing else.”

          ‘You have no idea how true that is, Kaiden.’

         “Stop changing the topic. You’re a Prefect,” Turais retaliated with a jab at Kaiden’s shiny badge on his chest. “You should not be tackling people to the floor, especially in front of first-years.”

         “That reminds me, you’re not a Prefect. Why are you walking around? Are you trying to steal my job?” Kaiden ignored the complaint and teased.

         “Well, if you did a better job, then I wouldn’t have to pick up your slack, Potter ,” Turais teased. The first-years laughed.

         “Oh, testy! Kids, beware of this little snake here, he’s mean,” Kaiden stage-whispered at the giggling first-year onlookers.

         “Hey, you hairball-coughing poor-excuse of a large furry cat -” Turais retorted to the “oohh”s and “aahh”s of an appreciative audience. “- watch your mouth or you might find a Quaffle rammed up in it.”

         “Oh, it’s on, Black!” Kaiden grinned as they finally turned back to the first-years, who were now sufficiently entertained by the play-fight to speak freely about their concerns.

 

***

 

         Turais joined Kaiden’s Prefect duties as they continued to stroll down the length of the train. Then, he came across Pierricoeur sitting beside a boy of similar disposition.

         “Hi, I’m Kaiden Potter and I’m a fifth-year Gryffindor Prefect -”

         “Black, why are you here?” Pierricoeur asked as his brother, Aigel, shifted uncomfortably beside him.

         “Pierricoeur, I can’t say it’s a pleasure. But for your brother’s sake, maybe we can bury the hatchet for a moment.”

         “What’s a hatchet, Turais?” Kaiden asked as Pierricoeur looked at Turais in scrutiny. 

         “It’s a muggle saying, sorry,” Turais mentally berated himself for the slip.

         “Um… so as I was saying, I’m a Prefect so if you have any questions or concerns about Hogwarts, please feel free to find me or anyone with this shiny badge.” Kaiden pointed at his badge. “So what’s your name?”

         Pierricoeur’s younger brother looked at his older brother, who nodded. The boy turned towards the two of them.

         “Hi, I am Aigel Pierricoeur,” the boy spoke softly. It was so quiet that the rumbling noise of the train almost drowned his voice.

         “Hi, Mr Pierricoeur, nice to meet you again,” Turais smiled kindly but the younger boy just frowned at the gesture.

         “Okay! You’ve done your introductions. Now can you both leave?” Pierricoeur snapped as he pointed at the door.

         “Okay… thank you for your time, Mr Pierricoeur,” Kaiden said pleasantly as he led Turais out of the compartment and closed the door behind them. As they strolled away, Kaiden spoke again.

         “That was so strange…” whispered Kaiden as he waved into a compartment. “Pierricoeur looked so… controlling and his brother was so meek .”

         “I don’t know what to think,” Turais admitted. “Pierricoeur and I did not get along since day one. So it might’ve been that.”

         "But you have met his younger brother previously?" Kaiden inquired.

         "It would barely count as an encounter," Turais sighed as he recalled the situation. "He was standing alone at the campsite in the Quidditch World Cup and Sirius thought he was lost. So he walked up to him and asked if he needed assistance. But the boy was completely freaked out by our presence and Pierricoeur showed up seconds later to whisk him away."

         "That's very odd indeed," Kaiden said. "I'll keep an eye on him if he ends up in my House."

         Turais nodded, although he highly doubted that Aigel Pierricoeur would ever be Sorted into Gryffindor.

         Soon enough, they reached the end of the train. There were a few future Death Eaters, such as Jugson and Travers, but they were harmless first-years that Turais could keep under control for now. But Pierricoeur's brother was a surprising twist in the equation and Turais vowed to keep a closer eye on him.

         “Brrr..." Kaiden sounded as he cast his view out the window at the end of the carriage. Fat droplets of icy water pelted on and trailed down the frosted window while the wind whipped around the rest in maddening swirls. "I pity the first-years who have to brave this weather across the Black Lake."

         Turais hummed his agreement. Suddenly, he remembered one burning question he wished to ask Kaiden.

         "Hey Kaiden, I forgot to ask. But why was Wilkins in your box at the World Cup?”

         Kaiden’s cheeks flushed into a rosy shade of pink.

         “Well...” Kaiden spluttered and looked uncomfortable for a slight moment before recovering. 'Well... Michael is a very good friend of mine… and our friendship is sort of an open secret... as in everyone knows but pretends that it is not happening..." Turais raised his eyebrows at the information. “I've known and played with him in Quidditch summer camps ever since we were able to mount a toy broom.”

         “Won’t this friendship be… problematic?” Turais wondered. “Considering that you are both made Quidditch captains. I personally don’t mind it at all, but I think others would think negatively of this.”

         Kaiden sighed heavily, “I think people expect us to play-act as rivaling team captains and be hostile with each other despite knowing that we have been friends for a long time. But Michael and I are both very serious when it comes to Quidditch so I don't think that would be too much of an issue...” Kaiden's voice trailed off as he sighed again. “It's the same thing with Natalia. I've heard from her that you two are on friendly terms. She lives just a few miles north of me and we're childhood friends. And as you know, she is a brilliant Chaser and she always comes over to my place to play Quidditch. But at school, we sort of have to pretend we barely know each other even though everyone knows we're close outside of school. I sometimes wish we can go back thirty years before all this ridiculous Slytherin-Gryffindor animosity..."

         For the first time, Turais saw a different facet of Kaiden's life that he was not privy to previously. This serious side of Kaiden was completely opposite to the carefree, spoilt image that he portrayed usually.

         "Your pseudo-secrets are safe with me," Turais said comfortingly. 

         Kaiden faced Turais and gave a weak grin. He punched Turais's shoulder lightly and said, "Knew I could count on you, Rais. Always had a good feeling about you." Kaiden cleared his voice and returned to his more cheerful self and announced, "Well, I think we are almost at Hogwarts. You better re-join your friends and change into your robes. I’ll see you around."

         “Catch you later,” Turais replied as he gazed out the back of the train out onto the endless train tracks under the darkening skies.

 

***

 

         All the returning students were chatting boisterously in the Great Hall as they reunited with their old friends after two months while they waited for the arrival of the first-years. The enchanted ceiling showed torrents of rains cascading down towards the floating candles before they disappeared above the flickering lights. There was also the occasional flashes of lightning and claps of thunder.

         However, the dreadful weather could not dampen the interest on the incoming professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Apparently, Professor Zīvert was injured in a wild dragon hunt over summer and his post was substituted by a former French Auror Jeanette Talbot.

         But that was not the detail that most people were focused on.

         "Woah... she's really pretty..." Jonty said dreamily as he rested his cheek on his arms to continue to stare at the new professor. "I hope she stays for the next six years..."

         "And I though you were extremely disappointed that Professor Zīvert was not returning this year," Alex shot back as Jonty sighed airily with his eyes still glued to the front of the hall.

         After a few long seconds, Jonty finally registered that Alex was talking to him. "Huh... were you talking to me?"

         Alex shot him a dirty look in retaliation.

         However, Jonty was far from being the only person whose attention was monopolized by the new Professor. Turais noticed that many of the students were also sending not-so-subtle gazes at the staff table. Professor Talbot was, objectively, a traditional beauty by the strictest of standards. He could definitely see the appeal - her waxy blonde hair, dazzling blue eyes, a blinding smile, the gloss over her lips were catching the candle lights in all the right angles and sparkling ethereally...

         "She must be part-Veela," Turais breathed out absent-mindedly, eyes glazed, as Jonty gave a distracted grunt.

         Then, Alex smacked both boys on the head as they tore their gazes from the sight abruptly.

         "Can you two stop gawking at the professor? That's rude," Alex scolded as the other boys cleared their throats noisily. "Also, Turais. Weren't you about to tell us something urgent?"

         Turais blinked and scratched his head sheepishly. Anything he intended to say was now replaced by the pleasant images of the newest Professor.

         "I don't remember anymore..."

         Alex rolled his eyes as the oak doors swung open. Professor McGonagall walked down the middle of the Hall with a group of drenched and trembling first-years behind her. Turais craned his neck to observe the passing crowd and spotted the wet, red hair of Aigel Pierricoeur bobbing amongst the crowd. Suddenly, his eyes connected with Pierricoeur over their heads and the Ravenclaw narrowed his eyes warningly. Unfazed, Turais stared back with equal force between tearing his gaze from the boy to the Professor.

         "I meant to tell you that I've meant Pierricoeur's younger brother," Turais muttered and Alex whipped around in shock.

         "He is a first-year?"

         "Yeah, the boy with the red hair..." Turais pointed out as Alex gasped.

         The Sorting Ceremony went normally as the fresh class of students joined the Houses they would call home for the next seven years. Then, Professor McGonagall announced, "Pierricoeur, Aigel!" 

         Jonty sat up in alarm and nudged Turais's side. He whispered, "Here we go..."

         But said boy did not emerge from the crowd.

         "Pierricoeur, Aigel!" McGonagall said once more.

         This time, the boy did make his way slowly to the front of the small group of remaining first-years. He slowly climbed the stairs, his form trembling. Turais did not know if it was from fear or from the cold. The boy turned around and gazed at his brother, but due to this distraction, he tripped on the last step and sprawled in front of the stool... and in front of the entire school. The Hall filled with muffled laughter at the boy's demise with the Slytherins contributing most towards the noise. Turais looked at Pierricoeur just to find the boy’s eyes were filled with worry.

         ‘Interesting...’

         Turais had never seen anything but anger and annoyance across the boy’s face. Very interesting indeed.

         McGonagall helped the boy onto his feet and instructed him to climb the stool, this time, without any incidents. She placed the Sorting Hat onto his head as his closed eyes disappeared from view.

         The Hat sat still on his head for one minute... two minutes... Time slowly ticked towards the five-minute mark, the threshold of a true Hatstall, as the Hall started to whisper in equal parts of annoyance and curiosity.

         "It's been more than four minutes!"  Jonty whispered. "I wonder what he's so torn about."

          Younger siblings usually joined the House that their older siblings were in. Unless they were like Alice, whose family did not have a strong affiliation to any of the Houses. But the Pierricoeurs had been known to be affiliated with Ravenclaw and Leon Pierricoeur was in Ravenclaw as well. So it would be a surprise if Aigel Pierricoeur would buck the tradition -

         "SLYTHERIN!"

         The entire Hall was shocked into silence as everyone suddenly realized the implication. It was the first time in thirty-odd years that a muggleborn was sorted into Slytherin. And the last time this happened, the student was Tom Riddle (of course, Turais knew Tom Riddle was a half-blood, but no one else knew that fact.)

         Jonty and Alex's jaws dropped... so did most of the Slytherins. McGonagall's eyes also widened as she stilled for a second before pulling the Hat off. The newly-minted Slytherin looked out into the crowds with his eyes glistening with tears and his lips quivering.  Turais turned towards Pierricoeur just to find his hardening gaze staring towards the staff table resolutely. 

         "Go on, now," McGonagall said softly as she nudged the boy gently towards the Slytherin table, but the boy perched still like a statue and remained unresponsive. His eyes darted between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables frantically.

         The Slytherins also recovered enough to start muttering angrily at what had just transpired.

         "Did I hear that correctly?"

         "A muggleborn? In Slytherin?"

         "I'm transferring to Durmstrang! This is ridiculous!"

         Amidst the mild chaos, the new Slytherin gathered enough of his wit to slowly descend the stairs towards them. But the first-year Slytherins immediately spread themselves apart to occupy most of the benches and shot looks of dagger at the trembling boy, daring him to even think about sitting near them. The boy looked mightily lost as Turais started to shift over and give room to the boy. No one deserved this treatment, not even Pierricoeur's younger brother. However, someone beat him towards the friendly gesture.

         "Alex! What are you doing?! Sit down!"

         Turais realized Alex was standing up in his spot, fixated at the boy currently standing at the end of the Slytherin table. He swung his legs over his seat and started to walk towards the boy.

         "Alex! Stop..." Jonty hissed as he lunged for Alex’s robe but missed.

         Alex walked up to Aigel Pierricoeur and shook his shoulder gently. The boy looked up at Alex with his watery eyes and Alex whispered something. For a moment, the boy looked transfixed at Alex. Then, somehow, those were the magical words that he needed to hear as he walked with Alex back to their location at the Slytherin table. Flint, who was seated beside Turais, immediately scooted as far from Pierricoeur as possible. Alex ignored him as he placed Aigel between Turais and himself, buffering him from the other wary Slytherins.

         The rest of the evening went without another hitch, although the gaze from the other Slytherins and Dumbledore weighed heavily on them.

         After the feast drew to a close with Dumbledore's normal speech on school announcements and cautionary words on school unity, all the student started to exit the Great Hall.

         "Hey Turais, Jonty, head down first. I want to talk to my friend for a moment," Alex announced as he glanced briefly at the Ravenclaw table. He patted Pierricoeur on the shoulder's gently. "Take care of him for me."

         Jonty scrunched up his nose in disgust while Turais stepped up.  It seemed Pierricoeur was afraid to leave Alex's side as Turais had to physically pry the boy away from Alex.

         "What are we? Baby-monster-sitters?" Jonty grumbled in disgruntlement. Turais shot his friend a warning glare as the first-year tensed up noticeably, looking ill with dread. Without context, one might think he was being walked towards his execution. However, that might not be too far from the truth in this case.

         The rest of the walk was uncomfortable and awkwardness hung heavily in the air. Especially with the loathing stares the rest of the pureblood Slytherins were giving him. However, no one dared to utter any disagreement in Turais's presence.

         Once they reached the common room, Turais had to leave Pierricoeur with the first-years as he took his spot near the middle of the room with the rest of the house. As it turned out, the most influential Slytherin, not the Prefects, always addressed the first-years. Turais shuddered at the abhorrent memory of the introductory speech and subsequent terrorizing last year. This year, things were going to be different; he would be certain of that. 

         While Malfoy was addressing the first-years, he took the opportunity to survey the room. In fact, things were already different. Bellatrix had graduated and was no longer present. As for Nott, while he was still in school as a seventh-year, he was no longer part of the leadership group due to his poor showing against Turais last year and was amongst the other spectators. Turais glanced across the room and found Nott seething with anger and muttering with his friends, Mulciber and Tremblay. 

         His fellow second-years now joined the spectating crowd, waiting in trepidation. Suddenly, the entrance doors opened and Alex slipped into the common room and took his place beside Turais. Turais raised an inquiring brow at Alex and his friend mouthed “later.”

         “ - and that is all, good night.” Malfoy concluded his speech as the first years started to head to their dormitories, unsuspecting of the impending encounter with the older Slytherins.

         Antonin Dolohov stepped into the centre of their path and towered over the first-years dangerously. They halted dead in their path in alarm, frightened at the sudden attention placed on them by him… and the entire Slytherin common room. Dolohov then proceeded to step into Bellatrix’s shoes and roared out a speech reminiscent of the one delivered from the year before. 

         “Hello, first-years. I am Antonin Dolohov,” said Dolohov viciously. “There are a lot of unwritten rules in the Noble House of Slytherin but the most important one you must remember is that there is a leadership group in Slytherin and they have the final say in every House matter. You must always obey them without exception , or you shall face your just punishment!”

         The first-years flinched at his tone and some of them cowered slightly. 

         “Now, who here is not a pureblood?” Dolohov spoke, although his eyes were trained on one particular boy that was cowering at the back of the group.

         Turais schooled his expression into a haughty frown as he stepped out of the spectating crowd and into the centre of the common room. Antonin Dolohov was likely a future Death Eater, and while Turais did not have many interactions with the boy last year, he had kept a close eye on his role as a member of Malfoy's inner circle.

         Still, this would mark the first time Turais had confronted the older boy.

         “Dolohov,” Turais stood beside the boy in front of the nervous first-years and said, “We should not terrify the first-years like this on their first night in Hogwarts.”

         Dolohov plastered a fake smile on his face as he turned and looked down at Turais. Turais knew that he was absolutely furious for his interruption as he could feel the anger roll off his body in waves.

         “Forgive me, Dolohov. I merely speak from my own experience from just one year ago when I was being given the speech,” Turais spoke calmly.

         “Oh, really, Black? I was under the impression that you adapted quite well.”

         “You have the wrong impression then,” Turais said dismissively before turning to the first-years and smiled kindly.

         “Hello, I am Turais Black, second-year. I care more about superior morals and the will to succeed. Blood purity is second to all that,” Turais spoke gently as he flashed Dolohov a glare to dare him to argue against him. “Now hop on along to your beds, you all must be tired.”

         Turais gestured at the staircase to the first-year dormitories and beckoned them to move along. However, the first-years darted their eyes nervously from one boy to another and back, unsure of what to do.

         “Don’t worry about Dolohov, everyone. If he has any issues, he will take it up with me in private,” Turais said firmly, “We don’t want another Nott situation on our hands, do we now?”

         Dolohov fumed as his eyes flashed dangerously. But he did not make any moves.

         “Now hurry on now, you don’t want to sleep in and be late for your first day of classes,” Turais said cheerily again as the first-years finally decided that they would follow his words and passed by the two older Slytherins. However, they still eyed them with fear as they walked past the duo. Turais smiled at them encouragingly. He also took care to give Aigel a quick squeeze on his shoulder in reassurance.

         After he saw them disappear up the staircase to their rooms. Turais masked his expression once more before he turned back to the silent Dolohov.

         "Dolohov," Turais said sternly. "I know that this may come as a shock. But Aigel Pierricoeur was sorted just like you and I once were. He is as much of a Slytherin as you and I."

         "You may convince your goons that, but the rest of the House disagrees with you," Dolohov spat as he took one step forward. "And I would have to wreck your idyllic disillusionment, but you are in the minority, Black. Tomorrow, the House will sign a petition to request for a re-Sort. The majority of the School Governors are family members of current Slytherins. We will see this through."

         "This is not the first nor would it be the last time that a muggleborn would walk through these doors," Turais said as he pointed at the entrance. "I'd suggest you make peace with the fact that Aigel Pierricoeur is here to stay. I heard the last muggleborn Slytherin was the brightest student that Hogwarts has ever seen and he was the founder of that little leadership group that you are now a part of. So I would caution you to formulate your conclusions so soon."

         "That may be true, Black. But do you know where he went after graduation?" Dolohov sneered. "He ended up working in Borgin and Burkes as a salesperson. Ha! So much for being the best student in Hogwarts! Then he disappeared off the face of the Earth. Quite a fitting end for a mudblood . I would like to send a bottle to whoever did the final deed. He did all of us a service by putting him in his rightful place for even daring to think he could ever best us purebloods in anything."

         'If only you knew the truth,'  Turais thought.

         He stepped forward and looked around the Slytherin common room once before announcing to the crowd, “If anyone threaten the first-years for any reason, you will have to answer to me. Consider yourselves warned.”

         With that Turais returned to his dormitories, but not without casting a challenging glance at Malfoy.

 

***

 

         The next morning, Turais walked up to the first-year dormitories to check on Aigel Pierricoeur. As he reached the top floor landing, he could already hear some commotion behind one of the four first-year dormitory rooms. There was a ominous sense of foreboding as Turais slammed the door open just to see Aigel thrown onto the ground right in front of his feet.

         Aigel's face was bruised and tear-stained. His bloodied lips were split and his robes were torn. The characteristic green and silver crest on his robe was now a glaring hole that showed the pearly white dress shirt beneath. The missing tie around his collar was also in the clutches of one of the boys.

         Turais knelt down to help the boy up and he immediately darted behind Turais, away from his roommates. Turais felt a swell of rage rise within him as he was confronted with the reality that some first-years were capable of inflicting so much cruelty towards a stranger. The other five boys froze as they eyed each other nervously. Turais's eyes glanced over their guilty faces and then turned his gaze to one of the poster beds behind them. Feathers were scattered everywhere, the pillowcases and bed-sheets were sliced and torn, his belongings were spilt across the carpeted floor.

         "Someone explain what just happened," Turais's cold, harsh voice reverberated in the semi-circular room. None of the boys motioned to speak. Turais added, this time with more force, "NOW! "

         The five first-years jumped upon the intense fury laced in the singular icy word.

         "We... he... is a m...mudblood and we... were defining... our relationship with... him... for the next seven years..." one of the boys, Jugson, said stammeringly. However, his face was defiant and without remorse for his actions.

         "You shall address me properly, Mr Jugson," Turais said coldly and waited.

         Jugson's face twisted into a harrowed grimace before he spat out the word, "Mr Black," forcefully and with extreme distaste.

         "Master Turais Black for you, Mr Jugson," Turais said.

         "Master... Turais Black," he gritted out unwillingly.

         "Bear that title in mind, Mr Jugson," Turais said and addressed the five boys. "I am the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I can make your life a living nightmare in Slytherin. And unfortunately for you, I am only in my second year so we will have six long years together before I graduate."

         The five boys gulped.

         "How you would like our relationship to be defined for the next six years will be dictated by your behaviour," Turais continued. "I'm sure you have heard of my reputation. If not, you will discover it soon enough. Behave like proper, courteous human beings is my sole requirement from all of you. That means no bullying, no violence, no name-calling, being respectful  to one another. If I hear that you violate my most basic requirement, you will find yourself in the most undesirable position possible under the school rules. Am I understood?"

         The boys nodded quickly, although Turais could sense anger building up in two of them: Travers and Jugson. 

         "Good," Turais nodded. "I expect a verbal and written apology from all of you to Mr Pierricoeur before the day is over. Remember, what you have done today was a severe offense and it will not be tolerated. Consider this your first and final warning."

         Turais guided the frightened child out of the room and took him down the stairs. On the way, numerous Slytherins eyed them with burning curiosity before Turais isolated themselves in the relative safety of their room. However, even there, they were not immune to the inquiring stares from Turais's roommates.

         Turais carefully sat Aigel down in his chair as he knelt down to examine his wounds. Alex was next to him while Jonty stood by the door and watched the entire process silently with a frown on his face.

         "Where do you feel pain?" Turais asked gently. Aigel stayed quiet as he stared at Alex's face unblinkingly through his swollen eyes.

         Turais tried again. "Do you give me permission to examine your wounds?"

         Aigel continued to stare at Alex until he gave a quick jerk. Turais smiled and nodded encouragingly, although the first-year probably didn't notice his smile at all.

         "I will start with several basic Diagnostic Charms, then I will examine your superficial wounds from the head, then your torso, and finally, your limbs. If you feel pain or discomfort or wish me to stop at any point, just give me a sign, okay?" Turais received a second jerk of approval. Turais pulled out his wand and cast a Diagnostic Charm for damages to respiration, consciousness, spine and nerve, spell and curses, and then for broken bones.

         "You are doing great, Aigel," Alex said softly as Aigel nodded.

         Every Charm came back normal and Turais relaxed. Aigel only had superficial wounds. "So no injuries that an easy Episkey or Ferula can't fix."

         Aigel nodded again as some tension left his body. But his eyes were still trained on Alex with great intensity. Turais scanned his wand over Aigel's body. There were a few bruises and cuts on the face, arms, and chest, but he was otherwise unharmed.

         "The next step might sting a little -" Turais said.

         "Hey Aigel, do you want to hold my hand tightly?" Alex said as he held out his hand. Aigel carefully placed his hand on Alex's palm.

         Turais then cast a broad-spectrum Episkey spell. Aigel winced as the wounds were disinfected, then healing rapidly. Turais could see the little boy was biting hard on his lips to avoid yelling out. His hand was squeezing Alex's hand tightly.

         All bruises immediately turned dark purple and faded significantly. The cuts also mended and turned into days-old scab. Aigel's eyes widened in wonder and surprise as he touched his face gingerly where his wounds were. Perhaps being a little too enthusiastic, he prodded one of his bigger bruises and hissed in pain. Turais chuckled softly and summoned his Murtlap Essence, which flew into his hand moments later.

         "The wounds are not fully healed yet," Turais explained. "It will take a few more days before it clears completely." He held out the vial of solution. "This is Murtlap Essence. You can apply it directly on your bruises and cuts. It has a cooling effect and will help dull the pain."

         Aigel's eyes darted between Turais's face and the bottle, He bit down on his lower lip and took the bottle from his outstretched hands.

         "Thank you..." Aigel said in a small, shaky voice. "T...Turais."

         After Turais and Alex led Aigel to his room, they returned to their dormitory only to find that Jonty was engaged in a shouting match with three other roommates.

         “ - I know you don’t like what you saw anymore than we do -“ Flint's voice shouted.

         “Damn you, Urquhart! I’m with Alex and Turais until the end of the line,” Jonty shouted. “Don’t even think about this division tactic. It will never work!”

         “If that makes you sleep better at night,” Urquhart sneered. "Black loves his toys broken, and you're not even close. Just remember that you will always play third wheel to those two. Potentially fourth wheel too with that mudblood in the fold -"

         "Shut your trap, Urquhart!" Alex yelled. "Do not insult my friends."

         "I see that you have grown a backbone over summer, Fawley," Urquhart said, his eyes flashing dangerously. "That's good. I love it when they fight back a little. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?"

         "You're not playing with anything under my watch, Urquhart," Turais said coldly.

         "Of course, Black," Urquhart yielded. He turned back to Alex and sneered, "I'll wait and see how you'll fare when you're without your knight in shining armour, Fawley."

         "In your dreams, Urquhart," Turais said.

         "Perhaps," Urquhart said warningly. "However, the difference between dreams and reality is action. Your little pet project with the half-bloods is unsavoury but, nonetheless, marginally acceptable. But this shameful situation with a mud- muggleborn?! I would watch my back if I were you."

         "I've heard this threat before," Turais returned calmly. "Your words do not faze me by the slightest."

         Urquhart gave Turais a final glare before he drew the curtains shut loudly. Turais then glanced at his other roommates, Rivers and Flint, who were observing silently.

         "Do either of you have anything you wish to warn me of as well?" Turais asked coolly.

         "I'm on your side, Black," Rivers said as he shuffled away from Flint. Shouting loudly at the drawn curtains, he declared, "And I am not afraid to say it to those cowering in the shadows!"

         Flint continued to stare at Turais for a long while. Then, he turned around and started unpacking his belonging. Muttering in a soft voice, he said, "Someone is bound to act, Black. Just don't be surprised when they do."

         Jonty snorted and hissed callously, "If I didn't know better, I would've thought that you sounded like you cared about his well-being."  

        Turais saw Flint stilled his movements at the words before he continued his task without responding. Then, there was a sudden flash of heat in his pocket as Turais immediately reached for the fake Galleon.

        “We need to talk,” the Galleon read.

 

***

 

          Turais arrived at the agreed destination, which was an abandoned classroom that was out of the way from any busy routes, and saw Andromeda pacing back and forth in front of a blank blackboard. Closing the door behind him, Turais approached his cousin.

          “Andy,” Turais greeted.

          “Turais," she said with an inexplicable sense of urgency.

          “What is it?”

          "What I am about to say is of great importance," she whispered quickly. "I was at my sister's wedding this summer and I overheard a conversation with you as the subject." 

          “Bellatrix's wedding,” Turais breathed out.

          “I didn't dare send you an owl for fear of having my letters read, and the Galleon... well... it had a limited capacity for words. Anyhow, I believe there is a plot against you that is in motion," Andromeda continued. “I could only hear fragments of the conversation and there was nothing substantial. Only that you were mentioned as a test...”

          “A test?” Turais frowned as Andromeda nodded. “For what?”

          “I don't know, Turais...”

          “Do you know who were involved in the conversation?"

          “I don't recognize their voices, Turais. I... I stole a glance at the guest roll but there were only members of the Lestrange extended family and no one glaringly suspicious."

          “But those people could have been private guests that did not appear on the guest roll," Turais said. "But good thinking to check the guest roll though, Andy."

          “I'm sorry I cannot be much help, Turais," Andromeda said nervously. "But I thought that you should be made aware of this. With the Lestranges involved, it is bound to be bad news."

          “No, Andy. You have done a lot, thank you," Turais said sincerely.

          Suddenly, Turais heard three pairs of footsteps approaching their location. He immediately pressed an index finger to his lips and gestured a shocked Andromeda to keep silent. Turais gripped Andromeda's forearm and pulled her towards the second door. He unlocked the door silently and the two Slytherins slipped out of the room just as the other door creaked open. Peeking through the slightly ajar door, Turais observed two boys enter the room.

          They were Nott and Synde, a fellow seventh-year.

          “What is it?” Nott hissed angrily at the other boy.

          “Lestrange and I met up with you-know-who over summer,” Synde hissed. “And he mentioned that he was considering to rescind his offer to you. Clearly, someone told him about what happened in school and you are now on the outs.”

         “What are you insinuating, Synde?” Nott snapped to the other boy.

         “Exactly what I just said. You better pick up your slack and show your worth, Nott,” Snyde warned. “This is your final chance to prove yourself worthy.”

         “Fine! I have received the message, Synde. If that’s all, you can go on your merry way,” Nott fumed.

         “I couldn’t care less if you don’t make the cut, Nott. But I do not want to be associated with failure -” 

         The other door creaked open once more as Professor McGonagall’s voice rang throughout the room, “What are you two doing here, Mr Nott and Mr Synde?”

         “Nothing, Professor,” Synde said smoothly.

         Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the two boys before saying sternly, “Then head to the Great Hall for your timetables.”

         A pair of footsteps left through the other door hastily as Professor McGonagall slowly closed the door and strolled away.

         “You don't think they have anything to do with what I just told you, do you?” Andromeda said.

         “I'm not sure,” Turais whispered back.

Notes:

Hey everybody,

New characters are now in play! What do you think about Kaiden Potter, Carmichael Wilkins, and Aigel Pierricoeur?! Did these characters change some of your initial theories?

Also, this year doesn't seem to be quite in the bag as Turais once hoped...

- ravenclawblues 2019-12-23

Chapter 21: A Star Seeker Was Born (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

New update. And the plot thickens...

As always, I’d love to hear from you,

- ravenclawblues 2020-01-10

***

⚠️ Note:

I anticipate some questions regarding blood status determination.

My story will follow the system where one's grandparents would determine the person's blood status. A pureblood would be anyone that had four pureblood/ half-blood grandparents. For example, both Turais's paternal and maternal grandparents were purebloods, so he would be a pureblood. A half-blood would be anyone with a combination of Muggleborns/Muggles/pureblood/halfblood. For example, Harry Potter's children with Ginny Weasley would be half-bloods because Harry's mother, Lily, was a Muggleborn. A Muggleborn would be anyone who had four Muggle/Muggleborn grandparents.

So blood purity fanatics such as the Gaunts would pride themselves as having NO MUGGLE ANCESTRY at all. In this story (and this should be canon-compliant), you could be a pureblood with distant Muggle ancestor as long as it was beyond your grandparents. But you might be looked down upon slightly by, say, a Malfoy or a Black as they boast complete magical ancestry.

So by this system, there is a bit of debate on whether the Pierricoeur brothers are considered half-blood or muggleborns. For the purpose of this story, since they had four Muggle grandparents, they would be considered Muggleborns.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A STAR SEEKER WAS BORN


 

September 4, 1970 (Friday)

 

HALFBLOOD SLYTHERIN MEETS MUGGLEBORN SLYTHERIN

by Sclandora Gosp

Milestone for progress or Flashpoint for contention

 

Dear readers, it is to my utter surprise to report that we have a Muggleborn Slytherin in our newest class of Hogwarts students. Aigel Pierricoeur, youngest son of the renowned Arithmancer Emmanuel Pierricoeur, was confirmed to be sorted into Slytherin two days ago.  Throughout the history of Hogwarts, the House of Slytherin has been the house of choice for most pureblood families. In fact, most family members from the Sacred Twenty-Eight were sorted into this house. It also has the unofficial reputation as being the most selective in the blood purity of a prospective student. While this theory has never been proven as the ancient magic vested in the Sorting Hat has never been studied, one might consider it to be highly plausible as Salazar Slytherin, the founder of this House, was known to stress the importance of magical ancestry and heritage.

However, today's story is not about the dry facts of history. Instead, I would like to bring your attention to what transpired during the Sorting. Multiple sources identified that Alexander Fawley, cousin of former Minister and current Chief Warlock Hector Fawley and second-year, coming to the aid of the nervous first-year.

"I have utmost confidence that the Sorting of Aigel Pierricoeur shows the efforts made by the Headmaster to make Hogwarts a more inclusive place has reaped its rewards. I am very proud that Alexander has become a leader and stepped up at this crucial moment," said Lord Fawley when asked about Alexander Fawley's behaviour.

However, his faith in the second-year's judgement might be sorely misplaced.

"He is already a blemish to our reputation as a whole," Johannes Grassley, a sixth-year said. "Fawley was a fool to try and invite him into our fold as though he belonged."

His peers have voiced similar concerns and discomfort about their newest addition.

Tracey Morrison, a fellow housemate, said: "He is... quite frankly... odd." Her friend, Regina Bennett added, "He constantly looks at me silently, which is quite unnerving."

If the addition of such a character proves to be so divisive, the Headmaster should remedy the situation by yielding to the request of a re-Sorting...

 

***

 

         Turais and Andromeda headed back to the Entrance Hall separately. When he sat down at his usual seat beside Jonty and Alex, they shot him a questioning gaze. However, Turais decidedly ignored the stares and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice instead. Suddenly, he noticed that Pierricoeur was staring at him from the Ravenclaw table with a mix of concern... and gratefulness.

         'That's new,'  Turais thought as Pierricoeur's eyes now flitted towards his brother further down the Slytherin table.

         "He was agitated because he noticed Aigel's bruises on his face this morning," Alex muttered into Turais's ear. Turais nodded understandingly. He looked over to the first-year, who was sat alone like a lone island amongst the rest of the Slytherins. 

         'A nod from Pierricoeur? That's new as well,'  Turais thought.

         "I know I've said this already, but I really don't like this, Turais... and for it to be a Pierricoeur of all people." Jonty commented as Turais turned his attention back to his friend, "A Muggleborn Sorted into Slytherin is never a good sign."

         The serious, dark look on his friend’s face was making him uncomfortable.

         "Don't be so dramatic, Jonty," Turais said with a dampened cheeriness. "I'm sure it wouldn't be so tremendously horrifying as you are implying." Turais knew he would keep a close watch on all affairs, as usual. So nothing catastrophic was likely to occur without him detecting it well in advance,

         "I think you're the one who is not grasping the full extent of this," Jonty said in a hushed tone as he eyed his surrounding. Jonty motioned Turais forward. He leaned closely to catch what the boy was saying. “My father was at Hogwarts when the last Muggleborn was in Slytherin. He never mentioned anything more than vague stories, but from what I have gathered from eavesdropping on all those conversations, those years were haunted by terrible, terrible events."

         Turais leaned away from a frown. "Again, that does not necessarily correlate with a Muggleborn being sorted into Slytherin," Turais said despite knowing that last time around, Tom Riddle was a different kind of terror. "It might have been a coincidence."

         "I guess I will just have to save all our hinds and keep an eye out for him," Jonty grumbled as he jabbed his fork at Aigel. Letting out a grunt of frustration, he speared his hashbrowns and stuffed it into his mouth. Turais looked over to the first-years and saw that most of them avoided him like he was contagious with dragon pox. 

          If it weren’t for timetable distribution, Turais would have invited Aigel over to sit with him -

         "No," Jonty's voice cut through Turais’s thoughts. Turais turned his attention to his friend as the boy repeated the firm "No."

         "You don't even know what I was thinking about," Turais protested.

         Jonty waved his fork disapprovingly. "You're easier to read than you think, Turais. And I bet this plate of food that you were thinking of inviting that boy to our meals -" Jonty looked Turais dead in his eyes, "- and don't even think about it. Not under my watch."

         Turais sighed, half in exasperation and half in irritation that Jonty guessed correctly. "Fine, we will not have Aigel Pierricoeur with us for meals."

         "Better," Jonty said. "And listen, Turais. This situation you have with Alex and that boy is political suicide! Stop. Involving. Yourself. With. Him!"

         "I appreciate the concern, Jonty. I really do," said Turais to the disgruntled boy, who let out a snort. "Hey Jonty, listen to me -" Turais pulled the plate of food away from Jonty, who unwillingly gave Turais his full attention while chewing his food noisily. "I understand your concerns, but let us not be prejudiced against him for something his brother committed."

         "Fine! As long as you know to be wary," Jonty said warningly as he pulled the plate of food back in front of him. "They will strike when you least suspect and in the most unpredictable manner. But you will not stop me from doing some sleuthing of my own." After a second, he added for extra emphasis, "And he is not joining us for meals regularly."

         Turais bit down on his lower lip at the proposition. Ultimately, he settled for the compromise. "Agreed, but I will maintain my rights to interfere with any form of bullying. And also for daily visitation -"

         "What is this? A child custody court battle?" said Jonty.

         Turais glared at his companion before they dug into the breakfast spread in front of them in silence.

 

***

 

          Soon, weekend was upon them, which also meant that it was the Slytherin House Team Quidditch trials. As a second-year, it was only natural that Turais tried for Seeker - a position that he excelled in as Harry Potter.

          "Good luck in the try-outs, Turais!" Fabian Prewett shouted out on his way towards the stands as he spotted the three Slytherins approach the Slytherin team captain with their brooms.

          "Thank you, Gideon!" Turais shouted back, deliberately saying his twin's name instead.

          "I take back what I said to you and sod off!" The seventh-year Gryffindor chided bemusedly as he made a rude hand gesture.

          "I didn't know you were close with the Prewett twins," Jonty commented as they continued towards the Slytherin captain, who was engaged in an animated discussion with... "Huh, isn't that Potter?" Jonty pointed towards the Gryffindor who clearly contributed the most towards the conversation both in words and in hand movements. At some point, Wilkins gave Kaiden a withering look and the boy immediately dulled his movements... but only for a brief while before he started waving his arms wildly again.

          "What were you saying about the twins?" Jonty returned to the previous conversation.

          Turais shrugged. "I meet them occasionally. As you are probably aware, my aunt Lucretia is married to Lord Ignatius Prewett."

          Jonty slapped his forehead in realization. "That completely slipped my mind."

          " - have to replace that buffoon Nott. Laughalot was clearly under a Confundus when he swapped her out -" Kaiden's voice was clearly heard as the Slytherins approached the duo. "Now I know you don't like me interfering nor should I be helping you build a better team... but NOTT! Really?! -" Kaiden took Wilkins by the shoulders and shook him violently. " - You can do better than that, Michael, much better -"

          Wilkins visibly rolled his eyes as he shoved Kaiden away with his hand squarely on his chest. He then took a few steps away from Kaiden for extra distance. His dry, scratchy voice sounded, "Kaiden, I know what I'm doing -"

          "You clearly don't since you are keeping him on the roster!" Kaiden made an attempt to claw at the clipboard but Wilkins physically held the boy at bay. Undeterred, the Gryffindor captain whipped out his wand to levitate the clipboard out of Wilkins's hands. But the Slytherin quickly countered by casting a weak Shield charm followed by a mild Stinging Hex at the boy. "Hey Michael, you're not playing very nicely -"

          “So, ahem!  Black. What are you -" Wilkins shouted out as he spotted the incoming Quidditch hopefuls. He held his arm out to keep the energetic Kaiden at bay.

          "Hey Rais!" Kaiden waved excitedly. "Looking mighty fine today, Steward!" It was Turais's turn to wonder about the relationship there as he looked at Jonty questioningly.

          "We have a symbiotic relationship on inter-House information exchange," Jonty whispered into Turais's ear.

          Turais snorted before whispering back. "Is this what we are calling your glorified gossip circle?"

          Jonty bristled predictably.

          Meanwhile, Kaiden had taken advantage of Wilkins's momentary distraction as he snatched the clipboard and feather quill from his grasp and started scribbling. "Turais is trying out for Seeker -" Kaiden said as the quill moved across the piece of parchment before shoving both items back to the disgruntled Wilkins. "- here, Michael. All done for you."

          "Kay, here to scout out the winning team Seeker?" Turais teased.

          "That's funny because you are looking at the winning team captain," Kaiden smirked and puffed his chest.

           Wilkins gave Kaiden a questioning look as he jerked his thumb at Turais. "Kay?"

          "Ah! Long story - I'll tell you later, Michael!" Kaiden said hurriedly as he smiled at Turais. "Good luck!"

          Turais smiled. "Thank you, Kaiden. I'll try my best."

          "Well, try your best now. But don't try too hard on the actual matches," Kaiden joked.

          "No promises there," Turais returned.

          "Ahem!"  Wilkins cleared his throat aggressively as he gave Kaiden a pointed look who, for once, seemed to have taken note and decided to spare the Slytherin captain more headache.

          "Good luck to the rest of you too!" Kaiden said before wisely sauntering away.

          Wilkins muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Pillock Potter" as Kaiden shouted out, "I heard that, Michael!"

          The three second-years shared an amused look while Wilkins cursed under his breath.

          “So... ahem, Seeker, huh. That’s good. Wait over there with Blishwick and Eibon. Also, nice broom there - Mahogany-birch Nimbus 1700 - better not waste it or I’ll nick it for myself. How about you, Fawley?”

          Alex shook his head and said, “I’m only here to cheer on my friends.”

          Wilkins grunted in response as he turned to Jonty.

          “And you, Steward?”

          “Chaser.”

          “Oak-hazel Cleansweep Five...” Wilkins eyed the platinum finishing approvingly. “... Plus. Worse than a Nimbus 1700 but better than the Cleansweep Six, at least the current oak-aspen one. Join the largest group over there.”

          As the three walked the remaining trail down into the Quidditch pitch, Turais heard a quiet rustle nearby and reached for his wand.

          "Who's there?" Jonty asked as he pulled out his wand moments later.

          Turais turned to his right to see a jittery boy walking out from the shadow of the tree. It was Aigel.

          "Aigel, what are you doing here?" Alex exclaimed as he walked towards him under Jonty's suspicious gaze.

          "Um... I heard it's the Slytherin Quidditch trials," Aigel said as he scratched his head sheepishly.

          "You're not planning on trying out for the team, are you?" Alex frowned. "First-years are not allowed to have their own brooms."

          "N...no," Aigel shook his head. "I just wanted to see what was going on... if that's okay..." Jonty snorted as Turais nudged him disapprovingly.

          "Why are you hiding in the shadows then?" Jonty asked sharply.

          "I... I..." Aigel's eyes darted to Alex's face and flushed before looking down on the grassy path. "I... just wanted to see your performances."

          "That's great!" Alex shot Jonty a warning glare and put his arms around the boy. "I'm heading to the viewing stands. Why don't you join me?"

          Aigel's face split into a big, dazzling smile as he immediately tugged Alex towards the stands. Alex gave a helpless shrug and allowed himself to be dragged away.

          "That boy better make up believable excuses next time. He's a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake," Jonty shook his head as he hid his wand once more. They eyed their retreating backs as Jonty spoke up again, "I seriously think that boy has imprinted on Alex like how those ducklings do. Either that or he's up to something. Why can't the Pierricoeurs act like normal human beings?"

          "Don't be rude," Turais admonished. "I find it quite endearing."

          In fact, he was ecstatic that Alex had made a friend on his own.

          They walked over to the side of the pitch and joined their respective groups while Alex and Aigel headed off to the stands where four clusters of students wearing different house colours sat. It was a convention that team trials were open to viewing by other House teams as opposed to the closed practice sessions. Hence, historically it was also when the other House Team members were known to jinx and hex potential rivals and prevent them from making the teams.

          The whistle sounded to signal the start of the trials. Wilkins sat on his Comet 220 and zoomed up to join the current members of the team. His Comet was the latest model of the series and was on par with Jonty’s Cleansweep Five Plus and Turais’s Nimbus 1700; they were all the top broom offerings alongside Shooting Star 70, which was the last good broom from the company before its collapse in 1978 from his original timeline. It was a weird feeling to see the best brooms available now would end up becoming undesirable school brooms by the 1990’s.

          Turais looked up to Wilkins as he used a Sonorous to address the hopefuls.

          “So everyone here should know that there are open spots for one Chaser, one Beater, one Keeper, and one Seeker. But unlike some stupid, sentimental Gryffindor -” An angry rumble sounded from the Gryffindor section and Turais could hear Kaiden’s indignant shout “ Hey, Carmickey!” which Wilkins ignored. “ - the current members will also be tested again with the short-listed hopefuls. So be prepared for a long haul. Seekers, this is your first test. Learn to sit back and watch others have all the action. Now as usual, Chasers are up!

          The Chasers were first tasked with ball passing with several Quaffles while hovering stationarily in a large circle. Wilkins eliminated all the players who were deliberately sabotaging other players with absurd passes and players who fumbled with every catch. That shaved off half the group. Then, they did several laps around the stadium while passing the Quaffle amongst themselves and further eliminated half the group. Jonty was eliminated in this stage and headed off to the stands, although he didn’t look too dejected. Finally, they were aiming shots at the hoops from different angles and flying speeds. After that, only five players flew to his satisfaction.

          The Slytherin section was now the largest group filled with rejected Chaser candidates as they muttered angrily while watching the shortlisted members taking turns grouped with the two current Chasers, Nott and Montague, on quick passes and flying combos. The current Chasers were also put on rotation and placed in various groups of three with two new hopefuls at a time. Nott’s ineptitude, which did not come as a surprise to any given his dismal performance as Chaser last year, was completely exposed as he fumbled with passes and missed perfect throws. Natalia Arkenstone, on the other hand, played spectacularly and melded with any partner Wilkins assigned her with. Finally, after two full hours, Wilkins had decided on the new Chasers.

          “The Chasers for this year are Pyrites, Montague, and Arkenstone -“  

          “WILKINS! What did you just -” Nott roared as he flew up to the captain.

          “ - Backups are Harper, Riley, and Vance, in that order. Beaters are up!

          “WILKINS! My father will hear about this!” Nott yelled as Wilkins zoomed off to the Beaters group, ignoring Nott completely.

          "Natalia!" Turais shouted as he ran over to the jubilant Chaser. "Congratulations!"

          Natalia gave him a radiant smile. "Thank you, Turais! I'm glad that Wilkins had the backbone to kick that bumbling fool off the team."

          "Well, Wilkins is quite serious about Quidditch. But most importantly, you deserve this position," Turais smiled.

          "Thank you for the encouragement last year," she said. "I'm just really glad Wilkins has been made captain so I have a chance to fight for a Chaser position. I hope you make the team as well."

          "Don't worry. I will," Turais grinned.

          Natalia gave him an approving nod before waving goodbye to join the rest of the Chasers. Turais also turned his attention back to the Beaters trial.

          Wilkins was one-half of the Beaters pair, so he personally engaged in the trials. First, he had them aim the Bludgers at levitated targets. Then, the successful few did drills on batting passes and were tested for reflex by defending the three Chasers from four Bludgers at a time. Wilkins was a fierce player all-around but particularly excelled in defence. His incredible talent was on full display as he almost single-handedly defended the Chasers from all four Bludgers for two minutes when he was paired with a particularly terrified Beater-hopeful. His foul temper was also on full display afterwards when he dressed down that player so loudly the entire pitch could hear him without the Sonorous

          “MAX, DON’T BECOME A BEATER IF YOU ARE GOING TO FLY AWAY FROM THE BLUDGERS!”

          He ultimately announced that Cornfoot would be his partner and Gibbon would be the back-up. Turais was suddenly extremely glad he would not end up on an opposing team as Cornfoot and Wilkins made a scary pair of Beaters. They were able to fend off four Bludgers for ten minutes and also took out all the designated targets in a record time. Wilkins even gave Cornfoot a rare grimace that, Turais guessed, was supposed to be a smile.

          “Keepers are up!

          Only four Slytherins were vying for the position and it quickly whittled down to one when it became painfully obvious that three of them couldn’t catch a Quaffle, let alone guard three hoops. Gibbon, who tried out for two positions, was mediocre at best so Wilkins gritted his teeth as he was forced to announce the position.

          “Gibbon, you are Keeper,” he said with great reluctance.”And you and I are going to spend a lot of quality time together . And don’t you dare land yourself in detention. I don’t care if you have to French-kiss McGonagall out of one, you will do it!”

          Gibbon, along with all the students present on the stands, made various noises of disgust, horrified with the mental image. Wilkins ignored them all and continued.

          “Seekers are up!

          Turais mounted his broom and kicked off the ground with a fourth-year girl and family friend, Emma Blishwick, and fifth-year boy Eibon. The sun had almost completely disappeared beneath the horizon now as the Quidditch viewing towers cast long shadows across the orange-lit fields. Wilkins joined them shortly after.

          “Now, a-hheem, I have nine Snitches released on half the pitch with four Bludgers set. Whoever catches the most Snitches in the next fifteen minutes will become Seeker. On my whistle.”

          Wilkins’s whistle sounded as Turais zoomed ahead towards the designated area and immediately saw specks of gold glistening in the setting sun. He veered right at the closest moving light and immediately dived as a Bludger whistled past his right ear and grazed his flapping robes. Sighting the first Snitch, he reached his right arm for it as he saw another Bludger swing into his view. He performed a barrel roll as it shot harmlessly over his body while keeping his sight on the Snitch. He reached for a second time and closed his hand around the cool metal.

           ‘One.’

          He stuffed it in his pocket as he propelled towards another Snitch that was racing towards a Quidditch viewing tower. He leaned into the broom and pushed for the highest speed as he heard the air whistle a warning of an incoming Bludger. He knew he could out fly the Bludger at this pace and focused on the Snitch and the fast-approaching tower. The Snitch darted upwards at the last moment and Turais pulled up sharply after it, inches from the flapping fabrics. He heard a loud crash below him as he closed his hand of another Snitch; the Bludger must have smashed into the tower.

           ‘Two.’

          He did a backflip-twist to return to the pitch as he saw a Bludger roaring directly towards him. Turais quickly banked right as the Bludger missed the handle by a fraction of an inch. That was a bit too close for comfort as Turais’s heart raced, but he would have to think about it after.

          He saw another glint directly beneath him hovering very close to the pitch floor and Turais tipped his broom down for a straight, vertical dive before twisting into a horizontal path straight for the Snitch, which he pocketed with ease.

          ‘Three.’

          Turais thought he was on track to getting the most Snitches when he heard the whistle. He turned to look at Wilkins who was on the ground.

          “Trials are over!” He yelled. The crowd at the stands were murmuring excitedly and pointing at their direction.

          ‘There’s no way fifteen minutes has passed. Did the others catch the rest of the Snitches already? Oh no... that means I tied with three at best or lost otherwise.”’

          Turais raced down towards Wilkins and dismounted from the broom as the other two joined him moments later.

          “What? It was three minutes tops, cap. Why did we stop?” Emma Blishwick asked.

          “Yeah, I didn’t even catch one yet! Four Bludgers are too much, cap!” The boy shouted in discontentment. Turais’s heart dropped to his stomach. He couldn’t believe someone caught double the amount of Snitches than he did in the same amount of time.

          “You didn’t catch any? I didn’t catch any either,” Emma exclaimed. Both of them turned to stare at Turais. "Turais... did you..."

          “Wait… what? I thought you caught six Snitches, Emma,” Turais fished his pockets and held out the three stilled Snitches in his right hand. “I only caught three, I don’t know why Wilkins stopped.”

          They turned to Wilkins who was shaking with an intense grimace on his extremely flushed face. The veins by his temples were bulging dangerous. He looked like he was about to explode.

          “Uh… are you alright, Wilkins?” Emma asked hesitantly, pulling her broom closely to her body. Turais suddenly realized that he and Eibon did the same thing instinctively as well. Wilkins pulled out his wand and they flinched. But he pointed it at his tensed-up throat and turned to the stands. He bellowed in his magically magnified voice, and Turais was surprised by the thick emotions, “BLACK IS SEEKER! BLACK IS SEEKER! THANK MERLIN AND ALL MY ANCESTORS! BLACK IS SEEKER!”

         The moment  Turais touched down on the pitch ground, he was trapped in a bone-crushing, bear hug from the team captain for several minutes listening to his play-by-play analysis of the three catches as though Turais did not witness them personally. Then, Wilkins suddenly realized they were in the middle of the Quidditch pitch in front of dozens of students, including Gryffindors. But ultimately, he decided that Turais was the reincarnation of Merlin and that he really didn’t care about the other students because Turais was smooch! and proceeded to hug him even tighter for several more minutes.

         When he finally released Turais, Wilkins looked as though he had fallen in love with Turais and kept sending obvious love-sick glances at him as they walked towards the Slytherin changing rooms. He even walked himself into the wooden door frame as he tried to enter the narrow doorway beside Turais and fell onto the ground while still maintaining a dreamy grin, much to the amusement of everyone else who witnessed it.

         In the changing room, Wilkins formally introduced the team to each other. The three Chasers were Noalan Pyrites (fifth-year), Cyrus Montague (seventh-year), and Natalia Arkenstone (seventh-year). The two Beaters were Carmichael Wilkins and Brookes Cornfoot (fifth-year). The Keeper was Strafford Gibbon (sixth-year) and the Seeker was Turais Black, himself. Wilkins said his name with a slight tremor of barely contained excitement.

         When they re-emerged from the changing room, Turais saw Jonty and the Gryffindor team standing calmly while Kaiden was jumping up and down with a child-like joy. Wilkins immediately stepped in front of Turais protectively and placed himself between the Gryffindor and his new favourite person in the entire universe.

         “What do you want, Kaiden?” Wilkins growled at the sight of the opposing team captain.

         “Calm down. I just wanted to say congratulations,” Kaiden continued to bounce, which was starting to make Turais nauseous. “Oi, that was awesome ! Your third catch was the textbook Wronski Feint but with the added catch, oh Merlin! Why were you sorted into Slytherin? Why can’t you be our Seeker ? Can I ask Dumbledore for a re-sort? I should ask -”

         “Hey, Kaiden! Snap out of it! He’s mine!” Wilkins snarled possessively at Kaiden and stabbed a finger at his chest. “If I see you within ten feet of him, I will whack you with Bludgers until you wished you were never born.”

         Honestly, Turais was a bit thrown off by the seemingly genuine animosity rolling off of Wilkins against the Gryffindor captain. If this was an act, they deserved awards for their performances. However, Kaiden totally shrugged off the ominous threat and continued to bounce cheerily.

         “Cheer up, Carmickey!" Kaiden said cheerily despite Wilkins's darkening scowl.

         'Carmickey?'  Turais thought as he raised an eyebrow.'And Wilkins lets him get away with that?!' 

         "Stop looking like a dying flobberworm," Kaiden continued. "I can’t wait for the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match now. I will need to film it using a cine-cam! Wait, I don’t have one. I will have to ask my dad to buy me one then!” 

         “Stop bouncing, Kay! You are making me sick,” Turais finally burst out. Wilkins lashed out upon hearing his words and grabbed Kaiden’s shoulders to still his movements. Turais heard Jonty muttered something about “know how we feel” and “Christmas train ride”.

         “You heard him, Kaiden. If he misses even a single hair or feels the slightest  discomfort from your actions. You will have a talk from my bat, face-to-face ,” said Wilkins while waving his battle-hardened companion in his hand menacingly.

         Kaiden frowned for a moment before turning to Turais and fake-whispered, “Loosen him a little, would you?”

         At Wilkins’s second growl, an actual growl, Kaiden leapt away quickly and ran for the rest of the Gryffindor team standing nearby. “Bye, Rais. See you around.”

         Wilkins turned around to Turais and his deep scowl turned into an awkwardly stilted smile that contorted on his face unnaturally. 

          ‘Um, please stick with frowning and glaring… please?’

         “Black, please catch the snitch in the first five minutes of our first match so I don’t need to get a heart-attack over Gibbon’s Keeping skills,” Wilkins said as he placed his rough hand on Turais’s shoulder.

         “I’ll try…?” Turais squeaked out and Wilkins did the hideous smile again.

         “Good.”

         The official Slytherin Quidditch team managed to enter the Great Hall ten minutes before dinner was finished. Once they reached the table, everyone was stuffing their faces and plates messily with food before they disappeared. As they were finishing up, they were interrupted by another group of Slytherins.

         Lucius Malfoy strolled into the Great Hall with his allies around him.

         “Wilkins, how were the trials today? Nott pulled quite the ruckus in the common room and some of our members were eager to hear the news. Hence, here we are.”

         “It went well, Malfoy," Wilkins replied stiffly. "Except for Gibbon, who will need a lot of training to bring his Keeping skills up to par, we are well-put together.”

         “I see that Black is sitting with the rest of the team. Has he been selected for a position?” Malfoy asked with curiosity.

         “Yes, he is the newest Seeker for the team. I am confident that we will win the Quidditch Cup this year with him on the team,” Wilkins slapped him on the back hard and Turais felt winded.

         “Really?” Malfoy arched his brow, “Well, I would prefer that the Slytherins win the Quidditch Cup this year, and I sincerely hope you can deliver what you just promised... for your family's sake.”

         Wilkins tensed noticeably beside Turais as Malfoy smirked and left the Hall with his allies in tow.

         Afterwards, Wilkins led them back to the Slytherin common room where he gathered all the housemates to make the official announcement of the new Slytherin Quidditch Team. The reactions to the announcement were relatively normal until he reached the reveal of their new Seeker.

         “And finally, the new Seeker on our Team is... Turais Black.”

         Turais could feel the stillness in the room as the students all stared at him intensely. Turais could imagine that half of the students were absolutely awed that the second-year was the top student in his class, a magically-powerful wizard, and also a great Quidditch player; the other half of the students were seething with jealousy and hatred for the exact same reasons.

         Reading the room and sensing the tension-filled silence, Wilkins continued on. “I don’t care what you feel about Black, but what do care is that Black stays safe, healthy, and able-bodied to participate in all upcoming training sessions and matches. If I catch even a single person breathing  weirdly around him, your parents and Dumbledore will be the least of your concerns. Good evening.”

         Turais turned his gaze just to see Nott staring at him with a murderous loathing that sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.

 

***

 

          In hindsight, Turais was terribly naïve for thinking he could enjoy his second-year and all its offerings. Perhaps that would have still been the case if he did not make the fateful decision of joining a Quidditch Team headed by Wilkins.

          Despite catching a glimpse of Wilkins's near-maniacal competitiveness for Quidditch during the trials, nothing could have ever prepared him for the intensity of their Quidditch training that left little time for anything else other than homework and sleep. The regular weekday trainings that begun before daybreak also quickly became the least of Turais's concern when Wilkins deliberately dragged him to an impromptu training session because there was a torrential storm brewing on the horizon.

          “I'm not doing it!” Turais said once he discovered Wilkins's insane plan. Getting struck by lightning or whipped around in chaotic wind was not Turais’s idea of well-spent Friday afternoon.

          “We need to be prepared for any weather condition during the match, Black!” Wilkin roared just as a menacing clap of thunder rocked the darkening skies.

          Turais dodging Wilkins's grasp and retreated to the other end of the hallway, far away from the captain.

          “I will hex you if you come near me, Wilkins!” Turais shouted, feeling a bit ridiculous that he had to resort to a threat to get his point across. “I swear.”

          Wilkins's nostrils flared, which caused Turais to shrink involuntarily. However, the older boy had seen, first-hand, what Turais could do and knew he would follow through with the threat. Therefore, Wilkins gritted out a harsh and reluctant, “Fine!”

          When Turais mentioned the incident to Natalia, she merely chuckled, “I'm more surprised that he didn't tie you to your broom and drag you up into the air anyways.”

          “I would like to see him try,” Turais huffed. “Honestly, it's just school Quidditch.”

          “If only we can get this tiny piece of information into his brain,” Natalia returned blandly.

          Wilkins's hyper-competitiveness also manifested in the form of overbearing protection as the day of the Slytherin-Gryffindor match arrived.

          “What are you doing?” Turais asked as he eyed the captain warily. They were standing in front of the second-year dormitory and in the captain’s arms were a blanket and a pillow.

          “I'm planning to stay here overnight and make sure -”

          “Make sure what exactly?” Turais interrupted. “That I won’t be attacked in the middle of night?”

          Wilkins frowned and said matter-of-factly, “Well, of course!”

          “If someone is going to sneak in here and attack me, I doubt your presence will be the deterrent,” Turais snapped.

          Wilkins did not end up sleeping in Turais’s room, thankfully, but it was a very near miss. Turais was somehow able to convince him that he was a light sleeper. Hence, the presence of a foreign person would affect his sleep and his subsequent performance against the Gryffindors.

          Wilkins agreed reluctantly.

          The next morning, Turais changed into his green and silver Quidditch robes before he headed down to the Great Hall with his best friends. Most of the second-year students were wishing him good luck, and that included a pinched-face Pierricoeur that was dragged along by his brother, Aigel. In general, many people were very excited that a second-year would be playing as part of the starting line-up in a Quidditch match.

          This match was considered the match of the decade as the Slytherins finally had a serious chance in winning against the Gryffindors. Furthermore, the Gryffindors had beaten the Slytherins resoundingly in their last seven match-ups. Therefore, none of the current students in Hogwarts had ever witnessed a victorious Slytherin team over its Gryffindor rivals, which only served to further excite the school.

          However, Turais was calm and unstressed for his pre-match breakfast compared to when he was Harry Potter in his original timeline. After all, he had seen things that were more important in life than winning a scholastic Quidditch match, so he was determined to enjoy it instead of worrying about it. He was still excited though, but the sense of dread and nervousness that generally accompanied Quidditch was no longer present. 

          “Hey, Turais. We’re supposed to root for Gryffindor but we just wanted to wish you luck,” Jane and Alice said quietly.

          “Hey! You two Gryffindors, scram! ” Wilkins shouted from down the table. Turais rolled his eyes and the two girls smothered their laughter with their hands. However, they ran away quickly afterwards as Wilkins started to pelt pieces of cereal at them.

          “Calm down, Carmickey -” 

          “Shut up, Kaiden! Black, time to head down."

          “Can’t wait to lose, Carmickey? We do have the best team because I’m on it.”

          Turais flashed Jonty and Alex a confident grin as he left the table. Kaiden also walked over to the entrance to shake his hand.

          “My parents sent you their well-wishes on your first Quidditch match. But I’ll just wish that you wouldn’t lose too badly ,” he said as Turais snorted.

          “In your dreams, Kay, I -”

          But that was all he managed to say before Wilkins proceeded to pounce on them and then forcefully drag Turais out of the Hall to head down to the Quidditch pitch alongside the rest of the team. 

          “Okay, team,” Wilkins addressed the team, who were all stone-faced and grim, in the changing room for the pre-match talks moments before the match was about to start. “We trained incredibly hard for the past two months and I have a really  good feeling about this one. We will flatten the Gryffindor team and make Kaiden crawl away sobbing like a baby. We will win today! Good luck to you all,” Wilkins spoke sombrely.

          Turais headed out behind the team but suddenly felt a familiar rough hand hold him by the shoulder. He turned around and Wilkins whispered to him, “Black, just -”

          “ - just catch the Snitch in the first five minutes. Yes, cap,” Turais rolled his eyes at Wilkins. He scowled but said nothing as he trudged towards the bright sun-lit pitch and the distant cheering and chattering. Turais was pretty sure he was the only one on the team who could get away with this amount of cheek. 

          “The Gryffindor Team!” A loud male voice boomed in the distance as a thunderous applause followed.

          Breathing in deeply, he shook his body loose of tension and stepped out onto the pitch as well. Loud cheers erupted from the Slytherin stand for their newest and youngest player on the team.

          “And... the Slytherin Team!” Turais looked up at the podium to see a Hufflepuff boy, maybe fourth-year, shout. The audience was less enthusiastic but it was still a respectable reception. As Turais walked to the middle of the field, he also heard a few scattering of applause from the Gryffindor side, to his surprise. 

          Mister William, the flying coach, was refereeing as he stood in the middle of the field with his broom by his side. Once Wilkins and Kaiden shook each others' hands, Mister William said while glancing at both sides, “I want a nice, clean game from both teams. Now, mount your brooms, please.”

          “On my whistle.” Turais adjusted his grip on his broom as he stared at his counterpart, a seventh-year girl called Yolanda Fields.

          A loud blast sounded across the field as the fourteen players rose up into the air alongside the referee.

          As planned, Turais veered out to the edge of the pitch to survey the perimeter.

          “Kaiden Potter of Gryffindor has first possession of the Quaffle - first match as captain - and a quick pass to Rachel Findley - her first match as main Chaser - and back to Potter - no, he took a Bludger and the Slytherins have taken Quaffle, Pyrites - arrrrrr - has possession - good hit aimed by Cornfoot - Wilkins’s new find - passes to Arkenstone, nice move there dodging Prewett’s shot - don’t ask me who, can’t tell - goalposts ahead - Findley intercepts but Arkenstone passes back to Pyrites - Walters climbs but it’s out of reach - SLYTHERIN SCORES!”

          A loud cheer filled the Slytherin stands as groans sounded from the Gryffindors.

          Turais was almost at the opposite end of the pitch when he saw Fields dive towards the Gryffindor stands. The crowd nearby seemed to have realized their Seeker in pursuit of the Snitch and fell silent while watching intensely.

          “Fields seems to have spotted the Snitch - the newest Slytherin Seeker, prodigy and future Minister for Magic - sorry, yes Professor - Turais Black chases after her - a Bludger from Wilkins - she dodges and continues - no, she lost the Snitch -”

          “Keep your eyes open, Black!” Wilkins shouted. As Turais was about to nod at him, he saw a flash of gold appear beside the Beater’s head and he leaned forward immediately.

          “Montague barrel rolls past MacGregor’s grab - ducks the incoming Bludger from Prewett but drops the Quaffle - Potter gains posses - and… has Black spotted the Snitch? Yes! Black is the youngest in the field and my younger sister’s first crush - sorry, Professor - and Hilary to you, too! - sorry, flies past Wilkins and suddenly made a dive - almost vertically - no, he’s going to crash - NO! - he pulls up in time, that was terrifying - wait, he’s raising his hand up, he’s waving at the referee - what’s that, is that the - BLACK CAUGHT THE SNITCH! - SLYTHERIN WINS! - The quickest catch in recent memory - what’s that, yes, really - two minutes and twenty-four seconds - Hilary, your crush has done it! It’s the shortest match in Hogwarts history.”

          The Slytherin stands roared in celebration and their victory. The Gryffindor teams hovered disappointedly around their goalposts as the Slytherin team landed by their exit to celebrate.

          “SLYTHERIN: ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY - GRYFFINDOR: ZERO! First win for Slytherin over Gryffindor in seven years!”

          “YES!” Wilkins touched down and threw himself at Turais, who tumbled onto the grass on his back. The rest of the team piled around him to pat his head and shoulders in delight. “I knew you could catch the Snitch in under five minutes!” 

          Turais noticed that Wilkins was about to give him another tight hug, so he quickly retreated to the changing room. When the celebratory Slytherin team emerged from the other side and onto the school grounds, Turais suddenly spotted three familiar figures lingering by the trees nearby.

          “Turais!” Sirius shouted as he ran towards his older brother excitedly.

          “Siri!” Turais laughed as the other boy leapt into his arms. Looking over the boy's head, Turais smiled at Regulus, who was hiding behind Orion. Turning to his teammates, Turais said, “Sorry, would you excuse me for just a few minutes?”

          Turais walked over and crouched down in front of Regulus, who was biting on his lower lip as he glanced at the milling students around him nervously. Ruffling his hair gently, he said, “Hey Reggie, I'm so glad to see you here!”

          “Me too,” Regulus whispered quickly.

          Turais stood up and finally greeted his father happily, “Father, why are you here?!”

          “Well, I can’t miss my son’s first Quidditch match and I want to see how my broom works,” Orion smiled as he patted Turais's head, which was slightly damp from the November mist and perspiration. “Amazing catch.”

          “You saw my catch?” Turais gasped as Sirius nodded ecstatically.

          “Of course!” gushed Sirius animatedly. “You just swooped down and caught it like it was nothing! Right, Reggie?!”

          Sirius nudged his younger brother, who nodded wordlessly.

          Orion clasped a hand on Turais's shoulder and said, “It was your first match and you made the quickest catch in Hogwarts history.”

          Turais dipped his head shyly before nodding, “I was just lucky...”

          “You are a great Seeker, Turais!” Sirius shouted.

          “Yeah...” Regulus echoed softly.

          “Thank you, the both of you,” Turais said as Regulus offered a small but proud smile. 

          “I would have preferred that you stayed on the safer side of things,” Orion said dryly and Turais scratched his head sheepishly.

          “School Governor,” a smooth, cheery voice sounded from behind and Turais saw Orion's expression immediately tense up.

          “Headmaster,” Orion greeted in a clipped tone.

          Dumbledore's gaze landed on Turais through his half-moon spectacles as he said, “I merely wished to personally congratulate you on your excellent display of athleticism today, Mr Black. A very well-deserved victory.”

          “Thank you, Headmaster,” said Turais politely.

          “Quite a daring catch, might I add. And unexpected.”

          “I hope it was a pleasant surprise then.”

          Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly before continuing, “Yes, yes... And I shall very much look forward to your future performances.”

          With that, Dumbledore rejoined his other guests and walked back to the castle.

          “I don't like how he deliberately went out of his way to congratulate you,” Orion commented as he watched Dumbledore pass by the rest of the Slytherin team without stopping.

          “I haven't a clue as to what prompted this behaviour,” replied Turais with a worried frown forming on his face.

          “Me neither,” Orion breathed. “You need to be mindful of him, regardless of his intentions.”

Notes:

Turais had been made Seeker. Surprise. Surprise.

- ravenclawblues 2020-01-10

Chapter 22: Wolfsbane (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

WOLFSBANE


 

December 12, 1970 (Saturday)

 

BLOOD WARDS DECLARED AS DARK MAGIC

by R. A. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

Dozens of Ancestral Homes Affected by Bill

 

In the last session of the Wizengamot before the Christmas recess, the deeply divided Wizengamot had voted to pass a legislation that declared all wards, passive and active, that relied on identification based on blood magic were deemed illegal (see page 3 for full list of banned wards). This deeply unpopular bill was passed by a margin of 40-37 and is expected to affect dozens of ancestral homes, including members from both traditionally Light and Dark families.

"I believe blood wards are dangerous and completely unnecessary," Lord Hector Fawley, the co-sponsor of this private bill with Lords Patrick Arkenstone and Adrian McKinnon, said after the final vote. "There are alternative ways to properly protect one's home without resorting to using blood magic, especially when such potent magic could be turned against unsuspecting house guests visiting those homes. We could substitute them with the Tuebor or 'Stamus contra malum' wards."

One of the blood wards that Lord Fawley argued against in his bill is the "Volenti non fit injuria"  ward (hereafter as Volenti ward). Translated, this ward means "to he who consents, no harm is done". In practical terms, guests who enter a house with this ward would have implicitly "consented" that if the house magic inflicted harm against them, they would not be able to sue the house owner for the bodily harm incurred.

It must be noted that all wards are defensive magic by nature. The Volenti ward in particular, would only be triggered if the guests held malicious intent or actively committed a crime, such as theft or assault, against the owners or their blood kins. Also, the house magic damage inflicted is proportional to the severity of the crime committed.

However, ward specialists throughout the ages have debated fiercely on the question of what is considered as mens rea (intent) and acteus reus (action) by the ward. There is still no universal consensus on this matter.

Lord Arcturus Black responded furiously to the passage of the bill: "This is preposterous. For the past several debates, I have continued to tell my colleagues that the Volenti ward protects the owners' family from any nefarious intents harboured by anyone who enters their homes. If the blood wards reacted, we should be seeking out what ill will the person had against the family instead of turning to blame the victims for the self-defense invoked by the house! Their preposterous victim-blaming makes me wonder if they have forgotten what magic is."

 

***

 

          The historic victory on Gryffindor had successfully convinced Wilkins that the team was deserving of a break from the inhumane training timetable. Incidentally, Slughorn's sterling opinion of Turais seemingly reached impossible new heights, causing much embarrassment for the second-year in question.

          “I still cannot believe that Slughorn designed an entirely different curriculum for you,” Jonty grumbled as he stuffed his bag roughly after their Potions class. Meanwhile, Turais continued to stir the contents of his cauldron with a steady rhythm. “He loves you like a son, Turais. I swear.”

          Due to Turais’s impressive streak of performances in Potions class, Professor Slughorn designed a personalized lesson plan catered specifically towards Turais. Therefore, while the rest of the class was working on the Swelling Potion today, Turais was instructed to make a third-year Potion called the Wide-Eye Potion, which was commonly used to reverse the effects of Sleeping Draughts or simply... stay awake from the lack of rest.

          Turais was slightly confused when he read the instructions as it called for the entire sprig of aconite. Turais distinctively remembered that only the aconite roots were needed because he brewed the Potions quite frequently as an exhausted Auror trainee. Therefore, he went to do some research but all the literature stated otherwise.

          But as the stubborn mule that he was, he insisted upon modifying the provided recipe and found the confirmation he needed.

          “Do you want us to wait for you?” Alex asked as the rest of the class slowly filtered out of the classroom.

          “No,” Turais said. “Why don't you two head off first and tell Mister Williams that I will be slightly late?”

          “Certainly. And it's not like the victorious Slytherin Seeker needs the Flying lessons anyway,” Jonty drawled as he started pushing Alex towards the exit. “He had out-flown the instructor on his first ever Flying class, don't you remember?” 

          “Bye!” Alex shouted as they disappeared through the door.

          After a few minutes, Slughorn returned from the storage rooms and examined Turais's cauldron.

          “Another perfect Potion, Turais. My, I wonder where your talent comes from. Must be Merlin himself!” Professor Slughorn beamed as his eyes turned to the four small cauldrons simmering on the next table. “What are these, m'boy?”

         “Well professor, I was reading up on the Potion ingredients last week and I wondered about the properties of aconite. According to all the literature I have come across, they stated that the aconite leaves must be present to counteract the aconite roots’ toxicity and vice versa,” Turais explained.

         “Yes, it is a widely known fact that either halves of aconite are too toxic when used separately and only tolerable when used together,” Professor Slughorn said.

         “But you see, I conducted a simple experiment which provided a contradictory result to the existing dogma.” Turais gestured at the four smaller cauldrons behind him. “I added the boomslang skin and aconite leaves in the first one; boomslang skin and aconite roots in the second; Billywig stings and aconite leaves in the third one; Billywig stings and aconite roots in the fourth one.”

         Turais held out a vial of bezoar juice for the professor. Bezoar juice, a less potent form of antidote compared to the bezoar, was a common indicator used to determine the toxicity of potions as it titrated against any poisonous substance. Once the potion was neutralized by the bezoar juice, it would turn the potion clear as a result.

         Professor Slughorn peered at each of the cauldrons and placed carefully measured drops of bezoar juice into them. As he progressed through the cauldrons, his eyes widened.

         “Oh Merlin, this is a wonderful discovery! The boomslang skin neutralized the roots slightly but not the leaves while the Billywig stings partially neutralized both parts of the plant. I wonder why no one ever bothered to do a simple experiment like this! Turais, did you only use aconite roots for your Wide-Eye Potion?”

         “Yes, professor. By doing that, I believe I reduced the toxicity of the potion while leaving the potency unchanged.”

         “Turais, you must publish this result!” Slughorn gasped. “This is completely novel and potentially world-changing! I know someone who will want to know all about this! You must come to this year’s Christmas Party.”

         “Oh, thank you, Professor. I’ll be sure to attend,” Turais smiled gratefully at Professor Slughorn while grimacing internally. Slughorn's Christmas Party was shaping up to be an annual occurrence on Turais's timetable.

         “Of course, yes, of course…” Professor Slughorn nodded although it is apparent his thoughts were miles away. “I better invite Damocles... he would be most interested in this...”

         Turais packed up his notes and left the classroom after a quiet goodbye when it was clear that Professor Slughorn was no longer present mentally for any form of communication. 

 

***

 

         The rest of November and early December flew past quickly as the night of the Slug Club Christmas Party snuck up on Turais. Once again, Turais found himself mindlessly going through the motions of handshakes, small talks, and polite excuses until he stumbled upon a scrawny man dressed in disheveled robes that smelled faintly like a Potions lab - namely one particular plant, aconite. Turais also saw a series of burnt holes in one of his sleeves that he recognized as accidental splashes from potions.

         “I didn’t even see you arrive, Damocles! I’m so glad you have made it to the party,” Professor Slughorn remarked as shook the man’s hand fervently. Then, he introduced the second-year next to him, “This was the boy that I was telling you about - Master Turais Black, eldest grandson of Lord Arcturus Black. He’s a prodigy in Potions like yourself, and excels in every subject from what I’ve heard from the other staff. Too modest for his own good, though. He almost accidentally made the Draught of Living Death in his first Potions class!”

         Slughorn placed a hand on each of Turais's shoulders and steered him closer towards the man eagerly.

         “Professor, you are too kind. I merely made a slight adjustment to one step of the instructions,” Turais protested as he glanced that the Potioneer apologetically. 

         “Nonsense, m’boy. See, Damocles? Too modest. Let me tell you, he used Essence of Nettle to pre-treat the lavender, which perfectly neutralized the negative interaction between the Nettle and asphodel with extra Valerian sprigs. I tested the potion and it is at least ten times as potent than any currently on the market! I still can’t believe I did not come up with that! Astounding talent! Simply astounding!”

         “Hmm, I’ve never heard anyone do this before either. If that’s the case, this recipe will help a lot of insomniac patients because the asphodel is toxic at high doses, which is what prevents Healers from prescribing the potion. Turais, you should consider patenting that innovation,” Damocles mused, his tired eyes gained a small sparkle. “I can help you with that.”

         “Brilliant! Turais, I should leave you in the safe hands of my other Potions prodigy, Damocles Belby. I'm still a bit miffed that he was in Ravenclaw but alas... Make sure to tell him about your improvement on the Wide-Eye Potion too. That was another stroke of genius!” Professor Slughorn said before leaving the duo.

          ‘Belby. Why is this name so familiar?’

         “Well, Turais. It’s always nice to meet a fledging Potioneer,” Belby extended his hand and Turais shook it.

         “I as well. Mr Belby. What are you working on currently?” asked Turais.

         “Please call me Damocles, Turais. Well, I generally work on improving potion recipes by increasing their potency or decreasing their toxicity. However, I also work on a passion project of mine, which is to find a cure for werewolves. I’ve been working on it for the past decade, but I’ve seen a lot of discouraging results lately. I do wonder if it is a futile endeavour sometimes...” Damocles explained. “But I won’t bore you with the details. If you would consider my suggestion and -

          ‘Belby. Damocles Belby. The inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, of course!’

         “Oh no, I am most interested in the cure. Please do tell what your main struggle is,” Turais exclaimed. He just met the man who had yet to invent the Wolfsbane Potion. He turned his thoughts to Remus Lupin, his other mentor figure from his past life. While it was impossible to cure his “furry little problem,” at least Turais would be able to expedite the process and hopefully allow him grow up in Hogwarts with the aid of the Wolfsbane Potion, which was invented after his graduation in the original timeline. He knew how painful the transformations were and a year gained in the Potion's discovery was one less year of suffering for the werewolf.

         Damocles’s eyes widened at the immense interest shown from the second-year and started, “Well... I didn’t expect... first off, the base of my potion is wolfsbane, or aconite. It is so highly toxic that I am unable to make a working solution that is remotely suitable for consumption at a non-lethal dose. I have recently exhausted all the known combinations of ingredients that will neutralize aconite. However, while the potion becomes drinkable, its effects are lost.”

         Turais didn’t remember the exact potions recipe for the Wolfsbane Potion as he never had to brew it, but he did recall some specific ingredients and when they were added relative to each other from Slughorn’s Potions class in his previous timeline.

         “May I ask which part of the aconite plant do you use?” Turais jogged his memory desperately.

         “The entire sprig, of course, as it has been known for centuries that the aconite roots must be counterbalanced by its leaves and vice versa,” Damocles said matter-of-factly.

          ‘Wait, the entire sprig? That’s not right... the Wolfsbane Potion only calls for the usage of the roots... unless he has not had that breakthrough yet. Right! Slughorn mentioned that using separate parts of an aconite individually was novel. Damocles Belby must have rewritten all the Potions textbook with this discovery during his development of the Wolfsbane Potion!’

         “Damocles, have you tried using only the roots of aconite?” Turais asked.

         “That would be impossible. Both the leaves and the roots are highly toxic without the other to neutralize it to a workable level.”

         “Damocles, allow me to explain. I was experimenting on the Wide-Eye potion last month, as Professor Slughorn mentioned, and I discovered that the Billywig stings was reacting with both the aconite leaves and roots while the Boomslang skin was reacting only with the roots. Therefore, I doubled the amount of aconite used while only taking its roots and the toxicity of the potion reduced by half while the potency remained unchanged. It is true that the aconite plant neutralizes itself, but I proved that they can also be targeted separately.”

         “Are you sure?” Damocles exclaimed, although he still sounded doubtful.

         “I have my notes if you would like to see them.”

         “Yes, that would be splendid. Turais, do you know what a breakthrough this will be if that is true? Instead of neutralizing two reactions, I will only need to neutralize one. Can I see your notes right now?” he gasped excitedly.

         “Of course, I’ll just have to notify Professor Slughorn of my absence,” Turais said.

         “Of course, of course, I’ll wait for you by the exit.” Damocles was quite literally bubbling with excitement, although it might’ve been a highly reactive batch of Gillyweed water that he had consumed in excess. But Turais was pretty sure it was the former.

         It was a miracle that Turais found Professor Slughorn amongst the crowd. When he took his leave, Professor Slughorn just beamed and hurried him towards the exit. 

         He met up with Damocles and walked briskly to the Potions classroom. Turais dug out his notebook from his personal cupboard and handed it over to Damocles for his perusal.

         Once the older man finished examining Turais’s notes on the aconite experiment, he looked up at Turais and exclaimed, “This is amazing, do you mind if I take your notes with me to study them?”

         “Of course! Especially for such a noble cause as finding a cure for werewolves,” Turais readily agreed.

         “Thank you, Turais. Originally I was wondering if I should come to this party but now that I’ve met you, I’m glad I did. I will update you on my progress, and I’ll make sure you are acknowledged once the potion is successful,” Damocles smiled brightly.

         “Oh, that is not necessary. It’s all your hard work, after all,” Turais waved his hand in protest.

         “No, Turais. I insist. I would have never thought to change the dogma on the usage of aconite. Not for another few years, at least. And to think that I never questioned the base ingredient of my potion is laughable now in hindsight. Your discovery is important in its own right, so I will have to forcefully insist that you share the honours of discovery when we succeed.”

         “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Please make sure my findings are replicable first,” Turais said hastily.

         “Of course, of course... Lots to be tested and done...” Damocles muttered distractedly as he scratched his chin. Then, he stood up determinedly and announced, “I have to head back to my lab now to start studying this further. Please send Horace my apologies for me.”

         Before Turais could even respond, Damocles had already disappeared through the open door. In the empty classroom, Turais reeled from the whirlwind encounter.

         ‘I cannot believe that just happened.’

 

***

 

          It was Turais's first night back in 12 Grimmauld Place for Christmas holiday. Currently, he was sitting at his desk alone and looking out into the darkening skies above Muggle London when he heard a quick rap of his door. Setting down his quill, he turned around to find Orion standing at the door with a levitating tray of tea and a jar of cookies. Outside the door, Celestina Warbeck’s voice rang loudly from the wireless below.

          “Yes, father?” Turais said as his father entered his room. He immediately closed the Potions textbooks and tidied the numerous pieces of parchments on his desk to allow space for Orion to set the tray down. “What’s the matter?”

          “~ drink from my cauldron full of hot, strong love ~

          “~ Oh, come and stir her cauldron ~

          “Can’t your poor neglected father have a long-due chat with his eldest son?” Orion admonished mildly as he closed the door behind him. “Considering that he had not seen his son regularly for three long months, only for said son to return home and stow himself away in his room.”

         Turais flushed, abashed by his father's words.

         “I thought you were finished all your holiday homework already?” Orion asked as he peeked at the parchments and books on his desk.

         “I did. I am currently working on my transcript on the novel properties of aconite that Professor Slughorn told me to publish.”

         Orion smiled proudly as he sat down on his bed. "I remembered that I never started my holiday homework until the beginning of the new year, let alone completing them on the second day of Christmas holiday.”

         “Well, someone needs to be the role model in the family,” Turais said cheekily as Orion feigned annoyance.

         “I suppose I can’t hold a candle to the twelve-year-old who will soon get an Order of Merlin for helping invent the cure for werewolves,” Orion smiled as he patted Turais on the head fondly. “So I have gathered from your letters that things have been going well at school?”

         “Yes, father. I have made friends with almost everyone in my year except for a few Slytherins and that Pierricoeur fellow in Ravenclaw. Those few Slytherins are blood purity fanatics or close allies with Malfoy, so it was to be expected. But I have no idea why Pierricoeur refuses to make peace with me. We have not even spoken properly once and I don’t think I have offended him in any way to warrant this behaviour. Unless he was still holding a grudge from Twilfitt and Tattings,” Turais shrugged.

         “As long as he is not actively making your life difficult, then I would just suggest you stay out of his way. His father is really well-known on the Continent and the Pierricoeurs are a Muggle family that comes from old money - the wine business, I believe. We don’t want him to use his blood status as an excuse to drag your name through the mud with slander. People will be quick to accuse and point fingers at each other on the slightest matters, especially with issues on blood purity,” Orion sighed.

         “Father, are you suggesting that I avoid contact with all non-purebloods?” Turais gasped.

         “Turais, I’m suggesting that you do what it takes to keep yourself out of trouble. Dumbledore will not hesitate to act against you if he receives any complaints from those Muggleborns. We are disadvantaged. The more contact with them, the greater the risk. Just remember that,” Orion said grimly as Turais felt silent. This was so unfortunate as the perception of both sides against each other were so unfavourable.

         “Also, the political climate is completely against us and the Ministry is getting bolder with their legislation targeting our allies,” Orion said. “Did you know that we had to tear down one of the familial wards here because it was deemed ‘Dark’ by the Ministry?”

         “What? But that’s not fair! Wards are inherently protective magic, even blood wards! If someone got cursed from trying to infiltrate the blood wards, they should’ve been punished for trespassing in the first place!” Turais argued hotly.

         “That was the argument your grandfather made, but no one was swayed. Because to them, blood wards were simply… ‘Dark,’” Orion said.

         Turais began to understand even more about how the Light side alienated the Dark families. The ends do not justify the means - this was basically the summary of Albus Dumbledore’s legacy in his original timeline, in his opinion.

         “Enough about politics and more about school...” Orion turned towards him and looked at him with immense sincerity. “Turais, do you really have so confrontational with Malfoy and his allies? I would feel much more at ease if you are not goading your Slytherin peers unnecessarily.”

         “I don't mean to put myself at odds with Malfoy, father,” Turais said. “But I cannot stand by and watch people suffer needlessly because of who they are... through no fault of their own.”

         “But as your father, you are all I care about, not others,” Orion whispered intently. “I don't wish to see you to place yourself in such a precarious position, despite your best intentions.”

         “I... I...” Turais hesitated before he averted his gaze and whispered, “I can only promise to be more careful, father.”

         Orion sighed as he nodded, “I have anticipated this answer. Turais, I know you well enough to know that you will not change your mind on your course of action. But while I might not be there in time to stop you or protect you, at least I want to know.”

         “I promise I will be safe.” Turais said with confidence. Orion looked like he wanted to argue, but he ultimately acquiesced with Turais's promise.

         Then, a loud crash sounded from the kitchen and Orion grimaced.

         “Finish up your work and spend some time with your brothers, alright?” Orion said before swinging open the door and shouted down the stairs,  “SIRIUS! HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO NOT FIDDLE WITH THE WIRELESS?!”

         “~ Here comes the sun ~

         “~ It's all right ~

         “~ It's all right ~

 

***

 

         A few days later when Turais was eating breakfast, an owl descended from the open window and dropped a letter onto Turais's lap just as he was reaching for his pumpkin juice. Breaking the seal, Turais read the letter and discovered it was an invitation to visit Damocles’s lab to observe the potions development process and a request for any suggestions to modify the potion recipe.

         Turais handed the letter over to Alex and walked to a nearby drawer for a spare quill and a piece of parchment.

         “That’s amazing, Turais,” Alex gasped excitedly. “You should say yes at once!”

         “Of course,” Turais grinned as he scribbled down his affirmation hastily. “... aaaaand... done.”

         He rolled up the parchment, tied it up with a piece of string, and bound it to Damocles’s owl. After a flurry of feathers and talons, the table was void of owls once more.

        The next day, Orion accompanied Turais through the Floo as they appeared at Damocles’s potions laboratory.

         “Thank you for the invitation, Mr Belby,” Orion said with a perfunctory smile as he shook the man's hand. From the corner of Turais's eyes. he saw Orion's eyes travelling down Damocles's robes before they widened in alarm.

         "Please do call me Damocles, Master Black," Damocles said cheerily. He clearly caught Orion's concerned gaze at his stained, burnt robes. The Potioneer waved his hand at the large room behind him and said, “I assure you that Turais is in absolutely no danger -"

         A loud bang sounded somewhere behind a precariously stacked pile of cauldrons and stools as the trio jumped. A few moments later, a large, purple cloud was visible as two lab assistants hurried over to the location with vials of bright neon-coloured liquids.

         " - ah... that might've been my experimental Forgetfulness Potion," Damocles said nonchalantly but Orion's fingers curled tighter around Turais's shoulder. "Did you know that the fumes from the Forgetfulness Potion could actually cause memory-lapses? Maybe one of my assistants forwent their masks. I've been trying to replace the Lethe River Water with another base catalyst. The rivers have been increasing contaminated by muggles with the new factories upstream. But I have been struggling with the new mixture's reaction with the amalgam conduit. Instead of being positive heteroazeotropic, it turned into a zeotropic solution after adding the mistletoe berries..."

         Turais tuned out Damocles's long-winded explanation. Quite frankly, he lost interest after hearing ‘amalgam conduit’ as a compound noun and to follow it up with the words positive heteroaze-something in rapid succession made him throw in the towel.

         While nodding politely at Damocles, he discreetly observed the room lined with jars of pickled animals and shining vials made out of jewel-encrusted silvers and golds. There were several bathtub-sized pewter cauldrons standing at the height of an adult simmering in the centre of the room about their clay fireplaces. Beyond the thick smog of purple steam that carried whiffs of odourous animal organs and musky herbs, intricate silver and brass instruments formed a muted chorus of rhythmic whirs and gentle ticks.

         "... Right!" Turais was jolted back from his brief stupor as Damocles exclaimed. "It's supposed to be a tertiary-reaction according to Raoult's Law, how could I have forgotten this?!"

         Damocles smacked himself on the forehead as he abandoned the two Blacks and rushed towards the back of the room where the mini explosion occurred mere minutes ago.

         "I cannot attest to the 'genius' part of your description but I can be convinced of the 'eccentric' part," Orion said breathed in deeply to loosen his nerves.

         Turais nodded with a grin. "It is a fine line."

         "Well, I hope this place is up to scratch with its safety regulation," Orion said as his distrustful eyes scanned the laboratory. 

         "I'll be perfectly fine, father," Turais said with a hint of exasperation.

         "You and Sirius..." Orion shook his head, "Trouble seeks you out while Sirius seeks out trouble. Sometimes I wonder why you two are so unlike your youngest brother."

         "Then the three of us balance each other out perfectly," Turais said.

         Orion gently pushed the side of Turais's head in slight admonishment for his cheek.

         "Well, aren't I a lucky father?" Orion said dryly. "You three are the cause of my premature greying. I'll have you know."

         After a few more minutes, they were still standing at the threshold of the laboratory.

         "I'm afraid our host might have had too close an encounter with the fumes of his potions," Orion said with a hint of amusement. One of the assistants finally noticed their presence and quickly darted back to where Damocles disappeared. 

         Damocles appeared into view as he shouted, "Apologies, I tend to get carried away with my work - never mind that now - follow me please."

         He waved the father-son duo over as they walked down the central corridor to the end of the room where there was a double-door that led to a second identical-looking space. Turais felt as though he walked through a veil of cold water as he passed through the doors.

         A young man with crazed hair and thick googles trotted towards them with his eyes buried in his book as Damocles caught his attention.

         "Yes, sir?"

         "Edward, please bring Mr Black to the pantry and serve him some tea and biscuits."

         "Of course. Mr Black, please follow me this way."

         Orion gave Turais a nod as he followed Edward in the opposite direction.

         "Now, Turais. Let me give you a tour."

         Damocles led Turais around the second chamber, which was dedicated to his project on the Wolfsbane Potion, and into a private conservatory where Damocles grew his own aconite plants. But before he reached that particular section of the garden, there was a few unpleasant surprises along the way.

         Turais eyed one of the branches of Venomous Tentacula warily as it reached out towards his shoulder. He quickly inched away to the other side of Damocles just to come face-to-face with a dangerous-looking shrub of Snargaluff. Turais bounced backwards and stuck close behind Damocles. These were all plants that Turais would not spend any time in close proximity without proper protection. But here he was walking down a path lined with murderous, man-eating plants with only his thin layer of casual robes and two inches of space separating him from certain painful deaths. Turais silently hoped that Damocles had some much-needed antidote at hand.

         After passing by a towering and blazing Fire Seed Bush and some carnivorous, vampiric saplings, they finally reached a small clearing filled with purple hood-like flowers. However, what was more striking was the ring of space around the perimeter of the flower patch where it was just toiled soil and without live vegetation.

         "This is my private stock of aconite. I have experimented with the effects of aconite at different times of collection and growing conditions. And I discovered that for the best effect, they must be collected during full moon and immediately placed in Lethe River water for storage," Damocles said proudly.  

         Careful to not come into contact with the plant, Turais knelt in front of the patch and gazed out. Beneath the purple canopy, there were small clusters of five-petaled flowers that grew.

         "Heartbreak grass," Turais said as he pointed at the yellow flowers. It was one of the ingredients of the Wolfsbane Potion and famously known for being the only plant that could survive beside aconite due to a unique poison-neutralizing property.

         Damocles looked at Turais approvingly and said, "Indeed, they are. Highly poisonous in its own right. Wouldn’t be wise to add it to an already-toxic brew, huh?”

         Turais stilled at the response.

         Apparently, Damocles had yet to discover heartbreak grass’s function in the Wolfsbane Potion. Turais had already written this particular ingredient down on his list of suggestions, per Damocle’s request. Hopefully, the Potioneer would pick up on the change.

         “I'm sensing a theme here," Turais commented as they walked back towards the laboratory building. Damocles merely chuckled in response.

         "Yes, there are a lot of poisonous plants here. But that's what makes them exciting! As long as you stay on the path and not touch anything. You will be fine," Damocles said airily as Turais looked down in search of the trail...or lack there of.

         “So, any thoughts on the recipe?” Damocles asked upon their return indoors. 

         Turais took out his annotated copy and handed it to Damocles.

         "I tried my best," Turais said hesitantly. He rearranged the addition order of some ingredients based on his memory, but he wasn't sure how much help it would do. 

         Damocles scanned the list and hummed. “Hmmm, interesting choice to put the belladonna in with the knotgrass considering they have completely different cardinal properties - And also substituting in roots of heartbreak grass instead of Alihosty in the final reduction process - very unconventional - why did you add that?”

         “I think it might off-set the poisonous effect of the aconite seeing that it is the only known plant that co-exists with aconite,” Turais said. “There are no recorded adverse interactions with the rest of the ingredients, but it is really a stab in the dark. I'm not sure if it will work...”

         “Well, there is only one way to find out!” Damocles placed the sheet of paper on the chalkboard under this week’s “in progress” tab and labelled it WP-122970-5939, which had nine other recipes that Damocles was testing concurrently. "We should have the results by next week.”

 

***

 

         “How is the experimental batch coming along?” Turais asked eagerly as he tripped over the mantelpiece of the fireplace a week later.

         “Toxic as ever, but it hasn't exploded or curdled yet. My cauldron hasn't melted either, so your modifications seemed to have balanced all the reactions reasonably well - not that we didn’t expect that, of course -“ Damocles said without taking his eyes off the cauldron. Sweat was collecting on his forehead and sliding down his cheeks. He was stirring the cauldron with extreme care and exact hand movements. Thirteen times clockwise. Five times anti-clockwise. Repeat. “ - we just have to add the fresh heartbreak grass roots after this...”

         Turais walked closer to the man and stopped just before the blue line etched around the cauldron. It was a Shield Line erected by the potioneer to contain the potion in case of an explosion and to prevent external contaminants from nearing the potion, especially during the most volatile stages of the brewing process.

         After a few more minutes, Damocles gently lifted the gold ladle from the potion that sloshed dangerously in the cauldron. The liquid was alternating between a ghastly neon-green, a sinister blood-red, and a dull brown colour. This indicated the potion was in the highly reactive triphasic state where the solution was interchanging between three meta-stable solutions. However, only the dull brown solution was the desired solution while the two others were extremely toxic substances... or so Damocles had explained.

         Stepping away from the cauldron, Damocles straightened his back with a groan of pain. "Oh dear, I can definitely use some pain potion for my stiff back after hunching over for the entire night."

         Damocles threw the gold ladle into the bucket next to the cauldron and massaged his lower back with a tired groan. “Well, let me add the roots now. I'll go pinch by pinch, and I hope to see the potion turn completely brown after two additions."

         Damocles took up the bowl of freshly ground heartbreak grass roots and hunched over the potion once more. He sprinkled a smidgen of particles into the mixture and the potion stayed in a murky brown for a brief moment before returning to the myriad of interchanging colours.

         A second smidgen.

         The potion turned brown again. This time, the muddy colour remained for a longer time, but it reverted back once more.

         "I think we're almost there," Damocles gritted out as he reached for an extra pinch.

         A third smidgen.

         The neon-green colour was replaced by the brown and Turais held his breath. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

         The potion remained in an unattractive state of brown. Damocles immediately scooped out a ladleful of the experimental mixture into a separate cauldron and reached for the vial of bezoar juice. He started to add beads of its content into the mixture. With every drop, the mixture flashed clear before it stubbornly reverted back to its original state.

         Once Turais counted twenty, the mixture remained brown and Turais's heart sank. The mixture was still too poisonous for consumption.

         "So..." Turais asked quietly, "It didn't work?"

         Damocles continued to add the bezoar juice until it turned clear. He placed the bezoar juice vial down on the bench and stood there in silence.

         "Damocles?"

         The man remained motionless with his back against him. Turais could hear some muttering from the man but he couldn't discern the words that were spoken.

         "Damocles? Damocles?!"

         The man's shoulders squared as though he was shocked. He turned around and looked at Turais and whispered, "Twenty-four."

         "What?" Turais asked dumbly.

         "Twenty-four, Turais," Damocles said louder this time as though that explained everything. "Twenty-four. Twenty-four!"

         "Yes, I know," Turais said with an obvious note of disappointment. "It's too poisonous to drink -"

         "No, Turais," Damocles said softly. "You don't understand. You've achieved twenty-four." He walked over to his blackboard and spelled the blackboard to reveal his erased contents from the past. Turais looked on as the chalk rearranged itself into columns upon columns of experimental names with a corresponding number.

 

WP-070865-0101: Fail to complete. (BJDC = NA)

...

...

WP-091269-4981: Stable mixture. Too Poisonous. (BJDC = 200+)

WP-121969-5011: 1st Bezoar Juice Drop Count beneath 200!!! (BJDC = 198)

WP-123169-5102: Increase amount of aconite roots. (BJDC = 157)

WP-031470-5159: Too much aconite. Decrease by three-fifths of a root. (BJDC = 164)

WP-053070-5245: Correct aconite concentration. Still too poisonous. (BJDC = 163)

WP-122770-5937: Too poisonous. Up buffer concentration. (BJDC = 152)

WP-122870-5938: Too poisonous. Added Bubotuber pus first. (BJDC = 153)

WP-122970-5939:

         Turais finally understood the significance as he turned to the older man with widened eyes. Damocles’s hands were shaking violently as he tapped his wand in the empty spot in the table. Although the potion was not completed yet, they just witnessed a major breakthrough in lowering the toxicity to near-consumable levels.

 

WP-122970-5939: BJDC = 24

          Damocles turned towards Turais as his eyes glistened brightly.

         "Do you see it now?" Damocles's voiced was choked with emotions.

         "Twenty-four," Turais breathed out reverently.

Chapter 23: A Poisonous Strike (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A POISONOUS STRIKE


 

         After a busy but fruitful Christmas holiday, Turais returned to Hogwarts feeling much happier. Due to his contributions, the Wolfsbane Potion discovery process had likely been expedited, which meant that Remus Lupin would get access to the Potion sooner and would suffer less from his condition. If anything, Turais knew this could only be a positive impact on the future.

         It was the first Transfiguration class after the holidays and Professor McGonagall had just taught them Untransfiguration, which involved undoing previously transfigured items. As for practice, they were each given a black feather quill to untransfigure.

         Turais swept his wand as though he was writing a check mark and said, “Reparifarge .”

         The black feather quill untransfigured smoothly into a rolled-up parchment, which turned out to be a list of to-do items that was due in two weeks, including a fourteen-inch essay of Untransfiguration and the transfiguration of a snuffle box into a book using their arsenal of known Transfiguration spells. It was a clever assignment that used a variety of the most difficult spells they had learnt in this class up until this point.

         Alex also successfully untransfigured his quill and groaned as he saw the instructions.

         “Why, Professor? This is so much work… urgh. I don’t even know how you manage to do all that on top of your Quidditch training sessions.”

         “How did you two untransfigure the feather so quickly?” Jonty gasped when he turned around to see his best friends’ desk. His own black feather was still sitting on the desk idly. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

         Turais knew Jonty was still miffed from early in class when Professor McGonagall commented that Turais and Alex had “raw talent” for Transfiguration.

         “Well, Jonty. Since you know the next assignments. Do you want to work on that first? We can help you with your feather after classes today?” Turais suggested. Jonty’s frown loosened a little and gave a nod.

         “Summon the snuffle boxes over please, Alex,” Turais sighed. This would take at least fifteen minutes of their precious talking time. Despite spending almost every moment, awake and asleep, together, they all somehow realized that Transfiguration class was the best time for a chat. Professor McGonagall gave up shouting at them for their chatters sometime last October and did not bother them unless they started to disrupt other students.

         Three snuffle boxes floated from the storage cabinet and onto their respective desks.

         ‘Okay… snuffle box to mouse first.’

         Snufflifors.” The snuffle box transfigured perfectly into a black mice. 

         ‘Okay… then mouse to bird…’

         Avifors.” The black mice turned into a jet-black raven that screamed “ Ca-Caw! ” Turais looked around in alarm just to see everyone staring at him blankly, wondering what on Earth he was doing transfiguring items into birds rather than focusing on untransfiguration.

         “Ca-Caw! Ca-Caw! ” Alex’s raven also croaked and joined the cacophony of noise that filled the room.

         “Mr Black! Mr Fawley! What on Earth are you -” Professor McGonagall approached their tables and stopped as she looked at the unrolled parchments on their tables. “Well… ten points to Slytherin. Please continue on -”

         “Ca-Caw! ” Turais’s raven turned to the professor and blared out aggressively.

         “Silencio.” Turais pointed at his bird, which proceeded to open and close its mouth silently. It paused mid-croak and turned to Turais questioningly. Turais looked at it apologetically and whispered as though it would understand him, “Sorry, raven. You were misbehaving.”

         He turned to look at Professor McGonagall, who was trying very valiantly to suppress her smile. She eventually was able to regain control and school her expression back into an impassive look.

         “Make that ten more points to Slytherin,” said Professor McGonagall before walking away.

         Turais turned back to the raven, which was now looking at him reproachfully as though it was demanding him to unmute it. When it saw Turais had no intention to do so, it clicked its beak in a show of aggression and stepped towards him menacingly. Turais hastily cast the spell before it could attack his face.

         “Vera Verto… argh! 

         The raven was about to leap off the table as it transformed into a crystal, clear water goblet, which teetered near the edge. 

         “That was a close one,” Alex said as Turais pushed it back to the relative safety at the center of the desk. “By the way, am I the only person who thinks it’s strange that things are so normal around here? Not that I am complaining, but I mean… no one has challenged you to a duel yet. That’s new.”

         Turais eyed the water goblet for any imperfection or intricate patterns. One of the difficulties with serial Transfiguration was that any slight imperfection at each step would render the object nearly impossible to transfigure later on as the mistakes would amplify exponentially after each layering of spell. Credits to Pierricoeur’s Laws of Transfiguration Interactions. 

         However, the goblet looked pristine to his eyes despite the hastily-cast spell.

         “I think Nott and Dolohov are up to something, but I just don’t know what it is,” Turais said. “Especially Nott, he has been giving me the evil eye every time I see him.”

         “But he hasn’t done anything. So maybe he has just decided to graduate without a fuss? Especially when Malfoy’s not going against you and Wilkins is taking you under his wings, it will be hard for him to get away with bullying you into anything,” Alex analyzed.

         “I rather keep it this way,” Turais said slowly. “Last year was too crazy for my taste. I can really use a year where no one wants to attack me.”

         He transformed the water goblet into a porcupine, which started to crawl across the desktop.

         “Hystrifors.”

         The porcupine turned into a pincushion. Soon after, an owl was hooting sleepily at him with its half-opened yellow eyes blinking slowly.

         “Hey, Turais. I never asked, but why do Wilkins and Potter call each other by their first names? Aren’t they supposed to be the ultimate enemies? Slytherin Quidditch Team captain versus Gryffindor Quidditch Team captain - the epitome of all rivalries.”

         Turais snorted and said, “There is no fantastical epic rivalry going on. In fact, I’d think they get along quite well.”

         In fact, Turais had finally worked out their confusing way of addressing each other. Kaiden preferred to call Wilkins "Michael" in non-Quidditch situation and "Carmickey" in any Quidditch-related setting.  Why Carmickey, you might ask? Who knew. But Kaiden seemed to be the only person who could get away with calling Wilkins something other than "Wilkins", "Captain", or “cap”. Wilkins, on the other hand, only referred to Kaiden by his first name and addressed everyone else by their last names. It was a mind-boggling system with an equally unlikely friendship so perhaps there’s method in the madness.

         But everyone else seemed genuinely worried whenever the two captains crossed paths as it seemed like some sort of scuffle would always break loose. And from Turais' observation, they were not play-acting as well. Kaiden and Wilkins genuinely interacted like they were rivals whenever it was Quidditch-related business. However, there was a major difference on how they approached the sport.

          Wilkins had a “no nonsense”-type mentality while Kaiden fully embraced a "work hard, play hard” attitude. It seemed as though Kaiden was also determined to rile up Wilkins at any given opportunity and Wilkins rose to the bait every single time despite being a calm, collected boy the rest of the time.

         How on Earth they managed to stay friends despite their personality clashes was beyond his understanding.

         “What makes you think they get along well?” Alex asked. Turais gave him a "Really? ” expression and Alex’s eyes widened in comprehension. “Right. Wilkins. Quidditch World Cup. Potters. Top Box. Understood.”

         “Wait, what?” Jonty asked confusedly as he turned around completely to place his water goblet on Turais’ desk. Then, he stood up to straddle his chair backwards. Turais turned to the center of the classroom to see Professor McGonagall’s disapproving glare, but she just shook her head and turned back to Dante Pierce, a Hufflepuff.

         “Well, Wilkins was with the Potters at their Top Box,” Turais explained. “You won’t see me inviting a random Quidditch team rival to go to the Top Box with me.” Jonty transfigured his goblet as he spoke and a porcupine now resided quietly on his table beside his sleepy owl.

         “Well, the thing about Potter and Wilkins is old news. I knew they were friends since beginning of last year -" Jonty saw Alex's incredulous look. "- What?! It's an open secret that they are close friends. I thought everyone knew..."

         "Well you clearly didn't bother telling me this," Alex punched Jonty on the shoulder.

          "Must've slipped my mind," Jonty shrugged as he mindlessly massaged the site. "But what I don’t understand is how they struck up a friendship to begin with. They're polar opposites. Wilkins is… prickly...” Jonty poked the porcupine to make it move but it just curled up tighter. "... and Potter is flamboyant."

         “Boggles my mind as well," Turais agreed. "Anyhow, time to get this done. Liberifors.” The owl warped and turned into a thick journal with a brown cover and yellow spine.

         “It is about time, Mr Black,” Professor McGonagall smiled wryly as she walked up to their desks. She lifted the book and inspected his work. Satisfied, she placed the journal back on his desk and said, “You would’ve been done in half the time if you weren’t busy chatting with your friends. Ten points to Slytherin and you won’t need to submit the essay to me, Mr Black.”

 

***

 

         Despite Turais’s continued worries, neither Nott nor the other Slytherins conducted any remotely suspicious activities. However, Turais noticed that Nott had been noticeably withdrawn from all school and Slytherin activities. His allies, on the other hand, did not let up on their bullying regime of those they deemed unfit to study in Hogwarts.

         “Leave the school before the cleansing of impure bloods begins!” A fifth-year Slytherin called Phillius Volant shouted at two second-year Hufflepuffs that Turais recognized as Sigmund Notley and Brian Carpenter. Their backs were pressed up against the wall as they hid behind their textbooks in fear from three advancing fifth-year Slytherins.

         “Volant! Ten points from Slytherin and back away right now!” Lowe, a Ravenclaw Prefect, shouted out. Volant eased off compliantly with a smirk on his face. “My apologies, Lowe. I should have steered clear from your normal route -” Volant stopped abruptly when he noticed Turais. Surprise and shock immediately replaced his gleeful expression.

         “Volant! What is the meaning of this?” Turais shouted with cold fiery in his voice as he strolled up with Alex and Jonty behind him. The three older Slytherins recoiled slightly as they backed away from the Hufflepuffs. Turais looked at Sigmund and Brian and motioned them to get behind him. They quickly scampered to safety. 

         Turais's gaze was filled with burning intent and scorn as the offending boy cowered.

         “I... ” Volant sputtered. “Nott -”

         “What did Nott say?” Turais barked out menacingly. “What. Did. He. Say! 

         Volant recoiled further into the wall between his equally frightened friends.

         Turais hissed coldly, “I will have a word with Nott later, but I cannot excuse this terrorizing of other students.”

         Turais took one more step forward menacingly. Despite the extreme height difference, the older students folded themselves impossibly small and far away from his movement as though they wanted to bury themselves in the stone wall.

         “If you still wish to converse with a second-year, I can gladly be of assistance.”

         “No, Black. I -”

         “If not, then leave us,” Turais interrupted with an icy tone. “Consider yourself warned. I will not hesitate in putting you back in your place if I heard about any more misdeeds.”

         Volant gulped. Tapping his two accomplices, Gage and Trouche, out of their shock, they retreated hastily.

         Turais turned to Sigmund and Brian and inquired, “Did they do anything to you? Any curses or hexes?”

         They shook their heads but were clearly still shaken from the event.

         “Let’s get you to Madame Roland for a Calming Draught,” said Turais firmly.

         When Turais returned to the common room from the Hospital Wing, he saw Volant whispering urgently into Nott’s ear.

         Just the sight of them made Turais's anger flare up once more.

         “Nott! I would like to talk about something that Volant did today,” Turais said loudly as he strolled up to him with no intention of keeping the conversation in private. All the students stopped their conversations and looked at the two boys with unconcealed interest. 

         With Malfoy, Turais had to maintain a unified appearance in front of the Slytherins despite all the disagreement they had behind closed doors. This was in part due to the politics of their respective families in the Ministry, who were united in their fight against the Light faction. A public feud between them, Heirs of the two most powerful political families, could have disastrous consequences for their Lords and their alliances. 

         However, this did not apply to Nott, and Turais had to signal to the entire House that he would not stand for violence against others due to their blood purity.

         “Black, what is the meaning of this -”

         “Volant, ah, nice to see you here too. Maybe you can tell us all what happened today?”

        Turais turned to the fifth-year, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but under the intense gaze of the two boys.

         “I… I…” Volant’s eyes darted between the two powerful figureheads of the Slytherin House.

         “Spill,” Turais said coldly. “There is nothing you can do but to tell the truth, Volant.”

         “I… threatened two students in the corridor today and -”

         “What did you say, exactly word-for-word?” Turais asked.

         “I said… I said… that they should... leave... the school before the cleansing of impure bloods begins.”

         Beads of sweat were forming by Volant’s temples as his pupils dilated slightly in anxiousness.

         However, unlike the brutish response that Turais was expecting, Nott gave Turais an angry, sinister smile instead.

         “Black, please excuse this idiot's behaviour.”

         Volant whipped around and looked at Nott as if he grew another head.

         “Nott, I...”

         Nott kicked Volant at the ankle, which caused the fifth-year to collapse onto the carpeted floor. He then commanded, “Apologize to Black at once.”

         “I... what?” Volant gasped shakily as he glanced back at Nott in disbelief. Turais was also surprised by Nott's unusual response, but he did not let it show on his impassive expression. Realizing that Nott was not going to come to his aid, Volant bowed his head and whispered, “I... I do a...apologize...”

         “Apology accepted, Volant,” Turais said mildly as he continued to meet Nott's sharp stare. “I would also like to take the opportunity to remind the entire House present in an unofficial capacity that I will oppose any acts of violence or terrorization to any members of the school. If I see any occurring, I will not hesitate to respond.” 

         “Of course, Black,” Nott hissed dangerously as a chill ran through Turais’s heart.

         Something about Nott’s behaviour did not sit well with Turais, but he could not pinpoint the exact cause of the boy's new-found confidence on opposing him. As Turais walked away, he felt Nott's gaze lingering on the back of his head.

         It was strange, indeed.

 

***

 

         It was early February when Turais received an update from Damocles. In the letter, the potioneer mentioned the possibility that the potion’s mechanism of action might not completely cure a werewolf bite, but instead, allow werewolves to transform without pain. Turais anticipated this news and was not too crest-fallen. Eager to share the news with Slughorn, Turais was outside the seventh-year Potions classroom after finding Professor Slughorn’s office and the other classrooms locked. When he opened the door, which was surprisingly unlocked, he saw a half dozen seventh-year NEWTs students clambering around the classroom. In the distant corner of the classroom, Turais spotted a harried-looking Dolohov as he tried to add ingredients into all three cauldrons as another round of alarms set off.

         “Turais, m’boy. What brings you here on a Saturday evening?”

         “Professor Slughorn, Damocles just wrote to me saying that he has determined the correct amount of aconite roots to neutralize the potion.”

         “Wonderful news! The Arithmancy required to determine that ratio is one of the most difficult hurdles during Potions creation. If he was able to finish that, his potion will almost be ready. Now, he only needs to validate his recipe and replicate it,” Professor Slughorn explained. “If all goes well, he should be able to submit the potion for review by summer!”

         “Indeed. He also reminded me to ask for your input on my rough draft for the transcript on aconite,” Turais said, handing over his piece of writing. 

         “Ah, why of course, Turais! You only had to ask. I will let you know after I’m done reviewing it. I have a backlog of Potions essays to mark as well as monitoring these Potions,” Professor waved at the roomful of bubbling cauldrons. The students were still milling around them, with looks of panic and distraught, as they cut, diced, and weighed the ingredients while attempting to stir three cauldrons at the same time.

         “Are they making… the Polyjuice Potion, the Draught of Peace, and the Draught of Living Death?” Turais peered down at the nearby cauldrons and at the ingredients laid on the table in front of the classroom.

         “Yes, m’boy. It is the first of three project which the seventh-year NEWT students have to perform. In this one, they will need to brew all three potions simultaneously and successfully within six weeks,” Professor Slughorn said as he glanced at the first page of Turais’s draft.

         “Well, that’s a bit tricky. All three Potions have drastically different maturation times and reaction rates…" Turais considered for a moment, "You could let the potion simmer indefinitely at certain stages... but you will need to calculate the reaction rate of the new ingredients added to the mixture carefully...” Slughorn nodded his head at Turais's words expectantly, "... but if you control the fire temperature and amount of ingredients used perfectly… you can time it so that you can add ingredients for all three potions whenever you come to the lab to maintain the Polyjuice Potion, which is at most once a day!” Turais exclaimed as he turned to Professor Slughorn, who turned and smiled widely at him.

         “My word, Turais. You figured out the intricacy of the project in under minutes while my seventh-years have yet to realize that. And they are more than halfway through the project!" Slughorn smiled as he gestured the frazzled students milling around, "They have been complaining about coming in to add ingredients at all sorts of different odd hours. This is to teach them a lesson that fire temperature and ingredient calculations are often overlooked but very important steps in potioneering.” 

         Professor Slughorn was very proud of his project design and Turais had to admit it was quite clever for its intended purpose. But he still felt bad for the oblivious seventh-years as several Alarm spells blared around the classroom. The students groaned and went into another wave of frenzied activities.

         Suddenly, there was a loud bang as half the classroom was enveloped in a cloud of acidic, orange smoke. Soon after, a second bang rocked the room as puffs of red clouds drifted upward from the same location. 

         “Mr Dolohov!” Slughorn exclaimed as he trotted towards the site. “What happened?”

         Dolohov’s entire body was covered in a foul-smelling, yellow paste as he glared at Turais, likely fuming and also burning in shame. 

         “Oh dear...” Slughorn tutted as he peered into the three cauldrons. The contents in two of them were now completely emptied onto the workbench while the third seemed to have escaped a similar, destructive fate. “It seems you have mixed up the Snargaluff vines and the Shrivelfig roots, Mr Dolohov. Well… there is no point crying over spilt potions. Your Polyjuice Potion looks fine. Continue with that potion and clean up the rest… yourself included…”

         Slughorn nodded to himself before turning back to Turais. With a brilliant smile back on his face, Slughorn asked, “So, where were we, Turais?”

 

***

 

         Amidst the intense Quidditch training and constant revision of his aconite transcript, Turais had barely realized that the dreaded Valentine's Day had arrived. Due to all the thinly-veiled hints from his fellow female students throughout the past two weeks, Turais was especially determined to stay under the radar and away from everyone.

         Girls, boys, students, staff, friends, enemies - everyone!

         Therefore, he snuck into the kitchen at the crack of dawn and request the house-elves to make him a large batch of sandwiches that was enough to last the entire day. Then, he hid in the Goblins’ Rebellion history section in the furthest corner of the library where no students ever willingly went.

         There he was reading up on Potions literature on its effects on Muggles when he saw Jane strolling into his secret location and laying her eyes on him. Upon seeing Turais, she blinked and then smiled hesitantly as she walked towards him with both hands behind her.

         “Hey Jane, what’s up?” Turais asked in a quiet whisper when Jane remained standing by his table.

         “Hey Turais,” Jane whispered back as she bit her lower lip nervously. Her eyes darted sideways. Turais thought her voice sounded rasp and just as he was wondering whether she was falling ill, Jane brought forth a pink box in her hands.

         “Um, Happy Valentine’s Day, Turais!”

 

***

 

         “So… Jane has a crush on you, huh.”

         Alex’s eyes narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the a large home-made treacle tart inside the pink box.

         Turais returned to the dormitories after curfew, just to be sure that no one could ambush him with a gift in the halls, and broke the news to his friend. Strangely, Jonty was nowhere to be seen. 

         “I didn’t see that one coming,” Turais admitted as he continued to look at that box, slightly panicking. 

         “So… what did she say exactly? Start from when you first saw her in the library,” Alex hissed as he turned to stare at Turais. Turais felt uncomfortably warm under Alex’s intense stare.

         “Uhmm… she just walked up to me and handed me this box. She said a hurried ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ and blushed heavily before running out. It was so much that I had to comment and say ‘you’re blushing so hard your hair’s turning red,’ then she just ran off.”

         Alex had an odd expression on his face. It was as if he couldn’t decide whether to frown or smile. Finally, a snort slipped past his lips.

         “Ummm, Turais... I don't think you should ever tell a girl she is ‘blushing so hard her hair’s turning red.’”

         Turais groaned into his hands, berating himself for his tactlessness.

         “So... what will you do?” Alex prodded.

         “What can I do? Say no!” Turais stated as though it was the most obvious thing to do; and it was. “But how do I reject her without ruining our friendship?”

         Alex looked directly into his eyes.

         “Mate, do you really want my opinion? I have zero experience with girls. None of us do. You’d have better luck asking a mating Hippogriff than us.”

         Turais sighed and pinched between his brows. He could feel another headache coming. “What about the treacle tart? Should I just throw it away?”

         “Umm.... if you want to...” Alex said as he glanced at the treacle tart again. “But it’s a perfectly good treacle tart... and you love treacle tart.”

         Turais decided that eating the treacle tart wasn’t exactly a chore. Plus, Jane probably put in a lot of effort making it herself. It was the least he could do. 

         Turais transfigured a knife and took out the tart. 

         “There’s a Stasis Charm on the box to keep the tart warm. Clever girl,” Turais commented.

         He started to cut the tart into small slices and offered one to Alex.

         “Hey, do you want some?”

         “Nah, I'll have it later. I’m too full from the shepherd’s pie tonight. It was delicious,” Alex said just as Jonty entered the room.

         “Ooo.... someone has a crush on Turais...” Jonty teased in a sing-song voice and wriggled his eyebrows.

         “Do you want a slice?” Turais asked as he licked his fingers that were dirtied in the process. He hummed in enjoyment as the rich flavour hit his tongue - a sweet, caramel taste with a hint of citrus and… berries? It’s a different flavour than what he’s used to but it was still very delicious. 

         “Definitely not. I don’t want their effort to go to waste on me . You’re the intended recipient,” Jonty fell onto his bed on his back. “Who was it from, by the way?” 

         “Jane -” Alex answered as Jonty suddenly shot up to his feet.

         “Jane?!” Jonty screeched. Turais's eyes widened at the extreme reaction.

         “Yeah?”

         “I can't believe it!” Jonty huffed as he sank back into his bed, looking displeased.

         “What's wrong with you?” Alex asked.

         “You're rejecting her, right?” Jonty ignored Alex and asked Turais.

         “O...of course,” Turais said just as he felt a light, clenching sensation in his stomach.

         “Why does it matter to you...” Alex asked Jonty with his arms crossed.

         “Nothing!” Jonty gasped immediately. “I... I... just... Jane and Turais... they just don't... don't match, you know!”

         “Is it a blood purity issue again?”

         “N...no, no! But I...” Jonty paused before huffing angrily. “But... to think that I saved her from Montague's prank and helped her to the Hospital Wing... and that she didn't even bother telling me she left there early...”

         “What did you say?” Turais gasped as he pressed a hand over his stomach. The dull ache was slowly transforming into a generalized, throbbing pain. “A...about Jane?” 

         “I said, Montague ‘accidentally’ added Manegro Potions into Jane's breakfast this morning and I helped her to the Hospital Wing,” Jonty explained gruffly. “Madam Roland said she would have to be hospitalized all day, but clearly she had other places to be -”

         Through Turais’s pain-addled mind, he suddenly saw through the deception that was before his very eyes. He immediately stumbled towards his school trunk and managed to open it before he crumpled to his knees. 

         “Turais!” Alex's shout shot through Turais’s overwhelmed senses as he forced himself to continue rummaging through his items. Finally, at the very bottom of the chest was a green, velvet pouch with golden drawstrings. Turais tried to reach for it, but another wave of excruciating pain swept through his body as he jerked uncontrollably. It felt like he swallowed a ball of lava that was burning through his stomach and flowing through his veins as it spread to his peripherals. 

         “Get help!” Alex screamed as Turais felt the distant vibration of feet running across the carpeted floor. “Turais! Turais!” 

         “B...Bezoa...r,” Turais whispered faintly as he fell into someone's arms.

         “Where?! Is it this, Turais? Is it this?”   

         ‘Poison... Treacle tart…’

         He vaguely felt a small object thrusted into his mouth as someone shouted into his ears. However, all his senses were overloaded by the intolerable pain. With his last vestiges of consciousness, he used the remnants of his rapidly fading strength to crack open his eyes and observe the many horrified faces above him.

         However, there was one face that was twisted into a malicious leer.

         ‘Jane… Nott… Dolohov…’

         His last thought was the sight of Jane’s panicked expression with her black hair slowly turning red… and her face slowly replaced by Nott’s demonic grin.

Chapter 24: The Tempest (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE TEMPEST


 

 

         Alexander Fawley woke up to the gentle shuffling of sheets in the bed next to him. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked and looked up at the ceiling above the sub-aquatic dormitory. Between the magnificent, arching vaults, the young sun filtered through the thick glass panes. The weak rays lit up the room in a crepuscular glow tinted in a green, blue hue. The brownish fronds tethered around the exterior edges of the glass swayed lazily along the gentle water currents and cast faint shadows that snaked across the stone wall.

         There was a ray of light that rippled in the air briefly as it guided Alexander’s eyes to the familiar figure of his friendly neighbour crouching over his trunk.

         “You’re up early,” Alexander croaked out softly as he sat up and stretched his arms up high.

         The other boy jerked at the words, seemingly startled, before he stood up and looked at Alexander.

         “Good morning, Alex,” the other boy whispered with a gentle smile on his face. “I was planning to head out early before everyone woke up.”

         It was then that Alexander realized the bed beside him was made and that the other boy was already fully dressed in his school robes.

         “It’s Sunday, Turais,” Alexander muttered. He let his eyes droop briefly as he let out a big yawn. “There’s nowhere we need to be, right?”

         Turais chuckled lightly as he placed the neatly folded pyjamas in his arms at the foot of his bed.

         “No, it’s just that - Well... it’s Valentine’s Day.”

         Alexander wrinkled his nose in confusion.

         “So?”

         “Well... I was planning to... uh - hide from everyone.”

         Alexander frowned at the odd response, but he quickly recalled all the less-than-subtle glances that their fellow female yearmates had been casting in Turais’s direction for the past week.

         “Oh...” Alexander breathed as the reason occurred to him. “Right.”

         “Yeah...” Turais muttered as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I think it would be best for me to find a secluded spot and stay there for the entire day.”

         “No worries. We can just study together,” Alexander shrugged as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 

         “Oh, you don’t need to stay with me, Alex,” Turais said firmly. “Go enjoy the Valentine’s Day Ball and watch all those love confessions. If you are lucky, maybe you will even receive some valentines from your secret admirers.”

         Turais gave Alexander a playful wink as he swung his satchel book bag over his head.

         Alexander wanted to tell his best friend that he did not care for the stupid Valentine’s Day celebration. He wanted to insist on going along because spending a day reading next to Turais sounded infinitely more enjoyable than seeing roses and heart-shaped confetti everywhere he turned. He also wanted to say that he most definitely did not have a secret admirer.

         And why would he have one?

         Anyone with a sound mind would not admire a stodgy anorak who buried his nose in dusty books when there was someone like Turais, who was the most brilliant, kind, thoughtful, and caring person in the whole wide world.

         However, Alexander did not voice any of his thoughts because he knew that Turais - being the well-meaning but slightly dense person he was - would only frown at his words. Then, Turais would chide him for his self-disparaging remark, exhort him to explore all that Hogwarts had to offer, and finally describe him as some wonderful person that Alexander did not think he could possibly be.

         Therefore, all Alexander managed was a weak “Oh” as he watched the other boy give him a tiny wave before slipping out of the room. Once the door clicked shut, Alexander allowed his body to slump backwards onto the soft linen sheets as he let out a heavy sigh of disappointment.

         Now, he had to figure out how to spend the rest of this dreadfully boring day without Turais.

         Alexander tried to fall back to sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not manage to do so. Finally, when the room had lightened up considerably, Alexander decided to give up on his fruitless endeavour. After changing into his school robes, he walked up to the first-year dormitory and knocked on the closed door.

         “What is it?!” a voice barked out roughly from inside. Moments later, footsteps approached the door on the other side as the same voice grumbled, “Do you know it is a bloody Sunday morning-”

         The door swung open as the first-year, Jugson, looked up to see Alexander. His eyes widened comically before he averted his gaze.

         “I... Good morning, Mr Fawley...” Jugson gasped meekly. “I am... can... let Pierricoeur know you are looking for him...”

         “Thank you,” Alexander said rigidly as the other boy closed the door in haste.

         Alexander knew that Jugson did not truly respect him despite this outwards display of deference. Jugson was merely afraid of what Alexander represented, which was Turais and his promise to make their lives miserable should Alexander report his wrong-doings. However, if this was the only way to keep these misguided children in check, then so be it.

         A few minutes later, Aigel Pierricoeur climbed down the stairs to join Alexander at the study table. The common room was still largely empty as most students had decided to sleep in.

         “Good morning, Alex!” Aigel said excitedly as he sat down in front of the chess board.

         “Good morning, Aigel,” Alexander smiled. “I hope I did not disturb your rest.”

         “Oh, you did not. I was awake already. I just didn’t feel like leaving my warm bed.”

         “I can relate to that. So, are you up for a game of Wizarding Chess?”

         Aigel nodded enthusiastically as they set the wooden pieces on the board at their starting position. They played in companionable silence as the chess pieces turned into tiny bits of broken wood one by one.

         “Is everything going well, Aigel?” Alexander asked as he examined the board. The game was nearly its end. Judging by the few remaining pieces, Alexander knew that he had sealed his victory. 

         Aigel pondered for a moment before he hummed, “I think so. Most of the class materials are fairly easy, and I can always ask my brother for help when I need it.”

         “What about here?” Alexander asked. “In Slytherin. Are you still being bullied?”

         Aigel’s shoulders sagged as his lips pouted slightly. He sighed heavily before replying, “No... they know they will be in big trouble if they did anything to me... but they don’t talk to me at all... even if I try to be friendly with them...”

         Alexander nodded as he said, “It... it is difficult - not being a pureblood in this house. People just seem to dislike us through no fault of our own.”

         “It’s... fine... I suppose, but I just feel... lonely, sometimes...”

         Aigel’s mutters trailed off into faint whispers.

         “You are always welcome to find Turais or I,” Alexander said. “Jonty as well.”

         Aigel made a face at the mention of Jonty’s name.

         “Steward scares me... he always stares when I sit close by...”

         “Jonty... he does not have anything against you, per se,” Alexander explained cautiously. “He just... he just distrusts your brother because they had a bad relationship before you came to Hogwarts.”

         “I know...” Aigel muttered. “My brother warned me about all that... I... I should’ve been in Ravenclaw... or any House except Slytherin... then I would not need to worry about any of this...”

         “Well, you are here now,” Alexander sighed. “No point in crying over spilt milk.”

         “You mean spilt potions.” 

         “Huh?”

         “There’s no point in crying over spilt potions,” Aigel repeated. “That’s the actual saying.”

         “Oh... I didn’t know that...”

         “Well, now you do,” Aigel said easily as they turned their full attention back to the game.

         “Pawn to d4 -” the white pawn marched up two squares and halted, “- and check.”

         “What - where?” Aigel asked in surprise. Alexander pointed to the trembling black king on the square h6, which was in the direct line of attack from a malicious-looking bishop that was twirling its staff menacingly.

         “Umm... Pawn to g5 then,” Aigel said.

         “Queen to f7.”

         “Darn,” Aigel grumbled as he analyzed the board. After a minute’s quiet contemplation, he announced, “Queen to e7.”

         “Nice try at making me trade queens,” Alexander mused. “But pawn takes g5 -”

         The white pawn unsheathed its sword and swung it violently at the black pawn, which splintered into pieces, before moving into the square.

         “ - and check.” 

         “Queen to g5.”

         The black queen dutifully bludgeoned the opposing pawn into bits of splintered wood.

         “Rook to h5. Checkmate,” Alexander declared as the white rook smashed its shield against the pawn and pulverized it. Then, it moved up towards Aigel’s king, which took its crown and threw it onto the chessboard.

         “How are you so good at chess?” Aigel exclaimed.

         “I’m decent,” Alexander admitted.

         “That’s what geniuses say,” Aigel huffed. “Always decent, and never more.”

         “Come now,” Alexander chuckled at the petulant child. “We can have a rematch.”

         “Maybe later?” Aigel suggested as he stood up and stretched. “It’s Valentine’s Day, and I do want to see what the rest of the school is up to! Aren’t you going?”

          Alexander groaned inwardly.

          Jonty was going to be running out and about all day trying to get updates on everyone’s relationship status. With Aigel also joining the Valentine’s Day celebration, Alexander regretted his decision not to insist on going along with Turais to wherever he was headed.

          But there’s no point in crying over spilt potions.

          “Fine,” Alexander sighed as he packed up the chessboard. “I’m coming with you upstairs.”

         The corridors were filled with students as Alexander and Aigel looked at the decorations that dressed the ancient castle in various hues of pink and red. Suddenly, Alexander spotted a group of house-elves flying towards them...

         Except, they were not actually flying. The house-elves were merely dressed in a ridiculous pink ballet tutu skirt while wearing large, feathery wings costumes on their backs. Before Alexander could get a laugh out of the unexpected sight, they pushed Aigel aside and surrounded him.

         “We have a valentine for you,” the lead house-elf said with a toad-like voice.

         Alexander gaped in horror. As he tried to back away, he tripped over a house-elf behind him. In an attempt to recover, Alexander’s hands reached for a nearby decoration, which turned out to be a bucket full of pink glitter, as he poured all of the glistening content onto his body.

         The house-elves took the opportunity to circle around him and started to croak out the dreadful valentines poem as Alexander buried his face in his sparkling hands, burning in embarrassment.

 

***


          Alexander took a long, cleansing shower as he tried to scrub off all the glitter that dotted his body. Every time he thought he had cleaned off all the sparkling flakes, he discovered some stuck on parts of the body that he didn’t notice previously.

          Muggle glitter was a menace, but magical glitter was ten folds worse.

          After spending an hour under hot water and engulfed in a thick fog of rising steam, Alexander finally emerged from the baths glitter-free as he eyed the empty common room. Everyone was still roaming the hallways observing romantic acts of devotion... Well, as sincerely as teenage love could possibly be.

          Then, a door opened nearby to remind Alexander he was, in fact, not alone. Looking across the cavernous space, he saw a girl in a fluttering blue dress linking arms with a man with straight, long, platinum-blonde hair walking down the staircase. They were sharing a private laugh when they noticed Alexander’s presence. Then, their relaxed demeanour immediately turned hostile.

          It was Narcissa Black, Turais’s horrifying cousin, and Lucius Malfoy.

          Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Alexander and whispered something into Narcissa’s ear, who nodded with a severe stare that continued to bore down on the second-year. Alexander held his breath and waited in anticipation for something bad to occur. However, the couple turned their faces pointedly away from Alexander and walked towards the exit, ignoring him completely.

          Once Alexander heard the entrance to the common room seal shut, he walked briskly towards his room and closed the door behind him. Only after locking the door did he finally slide onto the floor and release a shaky breath of relief.

          Deciding that it was not worth the trouble to even venture out of his room, Alexander searched his trunk and dug out his most private and most cherished possession. It was the one thing that brought him a sense of calm for all these years.

          It was a battered, old journal and the only thing that his mother had left him. On the cover was a fading sticker that said, “The possession of Amadis.”

          Alexander always wondered why his mother wrote under that particular pen name. However, he supposed he would never discover the secrets behind that. Opening the journal, Alexander examined the pages upon pages of notes and sketches that his mother made of various trees and their characteristics.

          “Rowan...” Alexander breathed as he flipped to the entry on his wand wood. Even though he read these pages many times and had memorized them by heart, Alexander ran his finger over the looping lines and read, “One of the most beloved trees for its reputation to guard and to protect those who planted it in their gardens. It has been known that only those pure of heart shall enjoy success in nurturing a rowan tree. Interestingly, where there is a rowan, one will also find that an elder is not too far away...”

          On this particular page, Alexander could find his only additions to his mother’s notes.

          “Rowan - Alexander.”

          “Elder - Turais.”

          Alexander spent the rest of his day pouring over every word in the journal that his mother meticulously researched when she was alive. But then, his roommates started to trickle in and he quickly hid the book.

          Finally, after several hours of waiting, Alex finally caught sight of his friend.

          “Turais! You’re back!” Alexander gasped in delight. But then, he noticed the grimace on the boy’s face and the large, pink box that he held in one hand. Frowning, he asked, “What is that?”

          Turais set the box down on his bedside table and turned it around for Alexander to see. Peeking through the transparent film, Alexander could see a freshly-made treacle tart.

          Alexander looked up at Turais and asked, “Who gave it to you?”

          Turais hesitated slightly, looking embarrassed before he whispered a name.

          “Jane.”

          “So… Jane has a crush on you, huh,” Alexander repeated blandly. He could feel his eyebrows furrowing even deeper as confusing thoughts swirled in his mind. The phrase simply did not make sense. Besides, if Jane liked Turais, surely Alexander would have picked up on the signs, right...?

          Immediately after that thought, Alexander imagined what would happen if Jane started to hang around with the trio all the time. How would that change the dynamics of the group?

          Turais had always been the unflappable, steady leader of the trio, while Jonty was the affable socializer. And Alexander was… well - he was not much of anything but the quiet, boring scholar who lingered unnoticeably in the background.

          Jane was… well - warm-hearted, easy-going, if not just a bit too forthright. That was to be expected from a Gryffindor, after all. But she and Turais… their personalities fit each other well. Alexander, himself, had always teased Turais for seeming like a Gryffindor who got lost and found himself living in the Slytherin dormitories.

          Alexander could now vividly picture Turais, Jane, and Jonty walking together and chatting animatedly as he trailed behind them, watching as the chasm between them slowly grew until he was all by himself.

          Again.

          And just like before.

          A sense of dread filled Alexander’s insides as he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. His heart also started to pound heavily at the thought of being replaced and forgotten. Immediately, he turned his hardened glare towards the antagonizing presence that was the obnoxiously loud and pink gift.

          “I didn’t see that one coming,” Alexander heard Turais mutter under his breath.

          Looking up, Alexander eyed the other boy’s slightly panicked expression as he hissed out, “So… what did she say exactly? Start from when you first saw her in the library.”

          There was a sharp, callous edge to his voice, and Alexander immediately felt a sense of shame as he saw Turais shift uncomfortably at the words.

          “Uhmm… she just walked up to me and handed me this box. She said a hurried ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ and blushed heavily before running out. It was so much that I had to comment and say ‘you’re blushing so hard your hair’s turning red,’ then she just ran off.”

          Alexander wanted to school his expression into a stern frown, but he couldn’t help but laugh at Turais’s pouty look.

          Commenting wryly, Alexander said, “Ummm, Turais... I don’t think you should ever tell a girl she is ‘blushing so hard her hair’s turning red.’”

          Turais groaned into his hands as the light reprieve of amusement was quickly replaced by the returning anxiety in full force. 

          “So... what will you do?” Alexander prodded nervously. Turais looked up and Alexander felt his entire body tense up as if he had forgotten how to breathe. But then, Turais gave Alexander an incredulous look, and his world started to right itself.

          “What can I do? Say no!” Turais said agitatedly. Alexander sagged with immense relief as if the weight of a bus had lifted from his shoulders. However, Turais didn’t seem to notice Alexander’s internal turmoil as he quickly asked, “But how do I reject her without ruining our friendship?”

          Barely able to catch his breath, Alexander huffed out as everything suddenly seemed like a very amusing prank.

          “Mate, do you really want my opinion?” Alexander replied sarcastically. “I have zero experience with girls. None of us do. You’d have better luck asking a mating Hippogriff than us.”

          “What about the treacle tart? Should I just throw it away?”

          “Umm... if you want to...” Alexander shrugged as he glanced at the treacle tart again. Now, it just looked like an inoffensive, perfectly decent gift from a good friend of his. “But it’s a perfectly good treacle tart... and you love treacle tart.”

         He watched Turais transfigure a knife and cut the tart into small slices. Then, Turais offered Alexander a slice. While Alexander no longer hated the gift, it didn’t mean he was willing to eat something that had just given him a terrible scare.

          “Nah, I’ll have it later,” Alexander lied as he patted his stomach. “I’m too full from the shepherd’s pie tonight. It was delicious.”

          Just as Alexander finished the sentence, the door opened as Jonty strolled with a determined pace. Judging by his expression, he looked like he was angry at something. Then Jonty’s eyes fell on the treacle tart as his eyes sparkled with unveiled interest.

          “Ooo.... someone has a crush on Turais...”

          “Do you want a slice?” Turais offered as he licked the treacle off the back of his finger,

          “Definitely not. I don’t want their effort to go to waste on me. You’re the intended recipient,” Jonty sighed as he fell onto his bed. “Who was it from, by the way?” 

          “Jane -” Alexander answered immediately as Jonty stood up in shock.

          Eyes bulging, Jonty looked at Turais and screeched, “Jane?!”

          Turais mirrored Alexander’s shocked expression as Alexander gasped out a weak “Yeah?”

          “I can’t believe it!” Jonty said as he threw his arms up.

          Alexander wondered if Jonty felt the same way as he did about the possible intrusion into their trio. However, a glance at Turais’s pale, ill-looking expression prompted Alexander to come to Turais’s defense. 

          “What’s wrong with you?” asked Alexander.

          However, Jonty ignored the question and asked Turais, “You’re rejecting her, right?” 

          Alexander saw the boy wince slightly before he breathed out a hesitant, “O...of course.”

          “Why does it matter to you...”

          “Nothing!” Jonty said defensively. “I... I... just... Jane and Turais... they just don’t... don’t match, you know!”

          “Is it a blood purity issue again?”

          “N...no, no! But I...” Jonty shouted defensively. “But... to think that I saved her from Montague’s prank and helped her to the Hospital Wing... and that she didn’t even bother telling me she left there early...”

          “What did you say?” Turais’s quivering voice gasped out weakly as Alexander turned his attention back to his best friend. Turais was now slightly hunched-over with one hand over his stomach and the other gripping on the table tightly. “A...about Jane?” 

          “I said, Montague ‘accidentally’ added Manegro Potions into Jane’s breakfast this morning, and I helped her to the Hospital Wing,” Jonty explained gruffly. “Madam Roland said she would have to be hospitalized all day, but clearly she had other places to be -”

          Turais suddenly tumbled drunkenly towards his bed as he fumbled with the lock on the trunk.

          “Are you feeling alright?” Alexander asked as an unsettling fear crept into his mind at the abnormal display. There was a sense of desperation in Turais’s increasingly frantic motion. “Turais?”

          As the metal lock opened with an audible click, Turais collapsed onto his knees. Alexander gasped in horror as he saw Turais’s bloodless complexion and uncontrollably shivering.

          “Turais!” Alexander shouted fearfully as he knelt beside the boy. However, Turais didn’t seem to hear him as he continued to dig inside the trunk resolutely.

          Turais tried to reach for something before wheezing suddenly as the pain overwhelmed him. Then the boy slumped bonelessly into Alexander’s arms as he started to thrash violently. Alexander clung onto Turais’s flailing limbs desperately as an anguished groan ripped from Turias’s black and bloodied lips. Then, his entire body arched upwards before his back slammed onto the carpeted floor with a loud thump.

          Hot, frustrated tears welled in Alexander’s eyes as all he could do was to clutch Turais tighter as the agonized boy writhed and curled in his arms. Alexander spared a glance at Jonty and saw he was still rooted in his spot in complete shock.

          “Get help!” Alexander screamed as Jonty’s eyes finally turned his focus onto him. Then, his eyes widened as he nodded and ran out of the room.

          “Turais! Turais!” Alexander cried as he continued to hold onto the boy with every ounce of remaining strength until the frenzied convulsion slowly ebbed away. However, Turais’s entire body started to tremble and shake intensely as white foam started to collect at the corner of his mouth. Beads of sweat dotted his furrowed brows as tears and spit marred his wet cheeks.

          “B...Be... Bezoa...r,” Turais rasped faintly in between distressed moans.

          Bezoar. The antidote to most poisons.

          “Where?!” Alexander shouted as his eyes frantically scanned the contents of the trunk. He immediately noticed something near where Turais’s now-paralyzed arm rested. Alexander shifted Turais’s weight off of his slightly as he reached for the small, green pouch. Alexander managed to loosen the drawstrings with quaking fingers to reveal a small, grey pebble-like mass. Gasping, Alexander shook Turais and asked, “Is it this, Turais? Is it this?”   

          It was then that Alexander realized Turais was no longer moving. Alexander’s mind turned blank and his ears filled with static sounds as he fumbled for the bezoar and placed it into Turais’s slightly opened mouth. 

          One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

          Alexander felt the sense of numbing despair settling in as he continued to shake Turais’s unresponsive body rhythmically. However, he refused to... and simply could not comprehend... how Turais was lying limply on the floor. Alexander only cradled Turais tighter, whose body was uncharacteristically cold as though his warm personality and fiery righteousness were now reduced to nothing more than a deaden, wax mannequin.

          “Turais...” Alexander pleaded as he eyed the body for any sign of revival and for anything that would offer him hope. “Wake up, Turais...”

          Drops of tears splattered onto Turais’s forehead as Alexander slowly stopped his seemingly futile efforts. But suddenly, there was a light, raspy wheeze as Turais’s chest rose dramatically and filled with a desperate gasp of air.

          “Turais!” Alexander breathed as Turais’s crossed eyes focused on something past Alexander’s shoulders.

          But the joyful reprieve was short-lived as Turais suddenly let out a cough that sprayed Alexander’s robes with droplets of blood. As the boy stilled in Alexander’s arms once more, he lifted his shaky hands and examined the smattering of dark, crimson red dots against his pale skin.

          Looking up, he found himself sitting on the hard, cold pavement at the corner of a quiet intersection under the grey, dawning skies. In front of him was the familiar, disfigured car with its metal frame twisted and mangled in a horrifying shape. Buried in its right side was the engine of a large trunk where large plumes of thick, black smoke arose. The crooked door of the truck suddenly fell onto the road with a loud metallic crack as a bloodied man jumped out. Frantic and wide-eyed, he glanced at the sight of the wreckage before he stumbled away. Shivering from the cold of the London winter and the horror of the scene, Alexander sat in utter shock as droplets of amber liquid continued to splash down from the side of the car onto the inky, iridescent puddle below.

          Then, Alexander spotted the smallest spark of flame. A split moment later, his face lit up in an intense red and orange as infernal flames consumed the car before his very eyes.

          He felt a pair of hands dragging him away roughly as he fought to remain where he was.

          “Mr Fawley!” McGonagall’s voice reverberated in his mind as Alexander saw her eyes crinkling with worry and pain. Whipping around, Alexander realized that he was back in the present, surrounded by the dark-green stone wall. However, instead of holding Turais in his arms, he was now sitting in an isolated alcove tucked in the corner of the Slytherin common room. Across the chamber, he could see students crowding the door leading to the second-year dormitories as they tried to catch a glimpse of the deadly incident.

          “Turais -” Alexander gasped frantically as his mind sharpened back onto his friend’s condition.

          “Professor Slughorn is attending to him,” McGonagall said with an uncharacteristic gentleness to her voice. “We must get you to the Hospital Wing -”

          Hospital. That was the word that tore Alexander from his hazy stupor.

          Alexander shrugged off McGonagall roughly as he screamed, “Turais needs help! Not me!”

          “Mr Fawley, you must listen -”

          “NO!” Alexander slapped McGonagall’s arm away as he tumbled away from her grasp. “Save him! Do something!”

          But then, the crowd parted as the pointed tip of Dumbledore’s cap emerged above the heads of the students. 

          “Clear a path to the exit,” his commanding voice rang clearly throughout the common room as the students immediately scattered away. Then, Alexander watched as Madam Roland walked out with a levitating stretcher behind her. Alexander’s eyes were immediately drawn to the unmoving boy with streaks of blood, tears, and spit staining his face messily.

         Mindlessly, Alexander tumbled towards Turais. However, Dumbledore stopped him as the stretcher passed behind him and out of the common room.

         “Turais, how is he?” Alexander asked urgently. “Is he... is he... dead?”

         Alexander’s heart chilled as he uttered the unspeakable word.

         Dumbledore’s expression softened as he said, “Mr Black is still alive, but just barely. We are transporting him to St. Mungo’s now. They will be able to take care of him better there.”

         “But the bezoar... Did it not work? I thought it would cure all poisons?”

         “So it was you who fed Mr Black the bezoar,” Dumbledore breathed. “The bezoar worked as intended and managed to neutralize enough of the poison to keep him in the mortal world. However, his body was ravaged by the poison’s effect, and that is something that the bezoar cannot reverse.”

         “So he will recover?” Alexander asked with cautious optimism.

         Dumbledore’s eyes dimmed as he said, “It is difficult to assess Mr Black’s condition at the current state, especially when the poison and its effects remain unknown to us. However, it is critical that Mr Black receives the necessary treatment soon...”

         The rest of Dumbledore’s words melted away as Alexander’s mind was in a chaotic swirl of regrets, confusion, and questions of “What if?”

         Alexander did not recall well what happened afterwards. By the time he registered his surroundings once more, he was already tucked into bed with clean, fresh clothes under the tall, gothic arches of the Hospital Wing.

         “You should eat something,” Madam Roland said softly as Alexander turned away from the Healer and curled into himself.

         “I’m not hungry,” Alexander muttered. After a long pause, he could hear two faint thuds on his bedside table. 

         “There are sandwiches and pumpkin juice, Mr Fawley. Please make sure that you have some.”

         Alexander nodded wordlessly, and Madam Roland retreated. As he heard the door to the office close, he threw the sheets over his head and allowed the restless darkness to swallow him completely.

 

***

 

          In the first two weeks after Turais’s poisoning, the entire school was on edge as they reeled from the news of such a malicious attack against a fellow student. For it to be the Black heir, no less, caused much speculation and doubt to be cast on Malfoy and his allies. In the Slytherin House, everyone was eyeing the two factions cautiously as they tried to navigate a potential future without the Black heir.

          Everything seemed peaceful, but the undercurrents of a looming upheaval were percolating beneath the surface. However, Alexander did not have the mind to worry about that as all of his thoughts and energy were poured into receiving the latest developments on Turais’s conditions. But there were matters that Alexander simply could not avoid confronting.

          Alexander had established a ritual where he made his way to Professor Slughorn’s and the Headmaster’s office at the start and end of every day. One evening, when Alexander returned from Professor Slughorn’s office with another round of disappointing news, he was met with the entire Slytherin leadership group.

         Alexander paused as he saw the entire common room was filled with students as they silently waited for whatever was about to happen.

         “Fawley,” Nott called out as Alexander turned to look. “Glad that you finally decided to join us. How is Black doing?”

         “What is it to you, Nott?” Alexander hissed out with false bravado as he tried not to panic about what was certainly about to happen to him.

         Nott tutted as he walked forward with a lecherous smile on his face. Cooing in a fake saccharine sweetness, Nott said, “Oh... it’s so adorable that you are trying to act like Black... he must be so proud if he could just see you now -”

         “Don’t come near me!” Alexander shouted shakily as he whipped out his wand and waved it in Nott’s direction. However, Nott merely seized Alexander’s wrist and twisted it painfully.

         “Oops...” Nott watched the rowan wand fall onto the ground unceremoniously before turning towards Alex with a dark, menacing stare. Slowly, Nott pulled out his wand and twirled it between his fingers. “It’s my turn now.”

         Alexander wanted to stand his ground, but he could not help but stumble backwards while Nott continued to advance.

         Then, Alexander felt his back press against the wall as his eyes flitted down at the wand tip poking into his robe over his chest.

          “Now, I get to finish what I didn’t get to last time. Petrificus Totalus,” Nott cackled as Alexander felt a searing pain where the wand dug into his skin. However, he could not even scream or cry as the Full-Body Binding Curse locked his jaw firmly in place.

          Alexander’s mind turned hazy through the muted suffering and agony under Nott’s callous ministrations as he placed one Stinging Jinx after another on his bound, defenseless figure. Through his watering, panicked eyes, Alexander watched the oppressed House with their heads trained onto the carpeted ground, not daring to utter a single word or objection.

         “What do you think would have happened if you were not there to save me that day?” Alexander remembered asking Turais on a night not too long ago.

         “I am sure someone else would’ve,” Turais replied easily as he gave Alexander a warm, comforting smile. 

         Then, the pain of another Jinx dragged Alexander back into the harsh reality, with the gleeful Nott filling up most of his field of vision.

         Turais was wrong, and Alexander was right. No one would have saved him that night, just as no one would dare speak up for him now.

         After a few more minutes of his public humiliation, Alexander heard Malfoy say airily in the distance. “That’s enough, Nott. We only wished to show Fawley the errors of his way.”

         “Of course,” Nott hissed. He stepped away from Alexander and walked off, but not without a final glance that indicated this was not the end.

         “Everyone,” Malfoy declared with a dramatic swing of his sleeves. “Turais Black’s utter defiance of the natural order in the House was an aberration - a summer dream - that must be addressed and corrected. I am glad to hereby announce that the proper hierarchy has finally been restored. Make no mistake. Anyone who harbours any thoughts of defying the rules that we have set in place will face dire consequences, and there will be no mercy.”

         Malfoy made a sweeping glance over the student body before he smirked satisfactorily. “That’s all.”

         No one dared to move a muscle despite the dismissal as the leadership group filed out of the common room. It was only until they all left did the terrified whispers slowly return. Most of the students pointed and stared at Alex’s immobilized form on the wall. However, none of them dared to walk up and release him.

         It took another minute before a boy emerged from the crowd to pick up the rowan wand. The entire room fell back into an eerie silence as they watched the boy trudge up towards Alexander.

         “Alex,” Jonty whispered as he waved his wand and lifted the Spell on Alexander. Alexander slumped onto the ground as his entire body screamed in ache and pain. “I’m... I’m so sorry... I... I don’t...”

         “It’s alright, Jonty,” Alexander groaned weakly. “Don’t involve yourself with me from now on.”

         “But -”

         “It is bad enough that I have to suffer,” Alexander hissed firmly. “Don’t needlessly involve yourself, Jonty. Especially when you can’t change a damned thing.”

         “I... I...”

         At Jonty’s hesitation, Alexander stood up despite the fiery protest from every muscle as he shoved Jonty with all his might. Caught by surprise, Jonty tumbled onto the ground in a flail of limbs. Alex steeled his expression as he shouted angrily, “Leave me alone, Steward. I cannot believe I have ever considered you my friend!”

         Jonty’s shocked expression turned regretful as he understood what Alexander was trying to do. Screwing his pained expression into a sneer, Jonty retorted, “Fine, I’ll leave you here to rot next time then!”

         They shared a long, meaningful look. Then, with a determined swivel, Jonty turned his back on Alexander and melted back into the crowd.

         Alexander felt all the energy drained from him as he slid back onto the cold, hard floor. He knew he shouldn’t begrudge Jonty for leaving him to fend for himself, especially when he explicitly told his friend to do so. However, Alexander could not help but feel a sense of bitterness permeate his thoughts.

         It was because Alexander knew, deep in his heart, that, unlike Jonty, Turais would have never allowed himself to be persuaded by Alexander to abandon him even in the worst of circumstances... and if anything, Turais would have already discovered a way out of this mess and exacted his righteous retribution...

         But the problem was... Turais was lying somewhere unconscious as he inched ever closer to death...

         Alexander tucked his bruised face between his knees and willed himself not to cry.

         And for the first time, he was glad that he was all alone.

 

***

 

          Merely three weeks after Turais’s poisoning, Malfoy had successfully regained total control of the House. Finally freed from the restraints and boundaries that Turais had imposed on them, his allies were eager to unleash their uninhibited powers on the House. Alexander was now treated as an ‘Undesirable’ - a social outcast isolated from his peers. No one dared to interact with him for fear that they, too, would face the ire of the leadership group and meet a similar fate.

          The entire Slytherin population now faced immense pressure to change their ways of life under the totalitarian rules that restricted the freedoms and liberties that they once enjoyed.

          Alexander overheard snippets of conversation from the vast majority of students that they disagreed with most of the changes. However, he also knew that none of them were brave enough to voice their objections to the current state of affairs publicly. These changes presented an even greater challenge for the first- and second-years as they had never experienced this darker, less tolerant version of Slytherin.

          When Alexander thought things could not get any worse, he received the news he had dreaded for all this time.

          “What do you mean, Professor?” Alexander breathed as he felt his entire world collapsing around him.

          “The Healers are saying that... they have exhausted all methods of reviving Turais,” Slughorn said regretfully. “He will likely remain in a vegetative state unless... well... no one truly knows...”

          Alexander clutched Slughorn by the arm and pleaded, “Professor, there must be something you - or someone - can do for Turais! He needs to wake up... he has his family, his father, his brothers... he was helping invent the cure for werewolves! He was... was doing so much good for... for everyone... He cannot simply... stay...”

          Tears pricked Alexander’s eyes as he choked on his last words. 

          “M’boy,” Slughorn looked back at the second-year sorrowfully. “I have done everything I can to reverse the poison, but the damage was extensive and... it is a truly a miracle that Turais had survived for so long. I’m afraid it will take another one for him to reawaken...”

          Alexander turned around numbly as he wandered the dungeon hallways listlessly.

          Turais was lost to the world... with only his corporeal body remaining as the evidence that he had ever lived.

          And it was all Alexander’s fault.

          As he entered a less-frequented part of the castle, he came across a pair of older Slytherins huddled together suspiciously.

          Alexander ignored them and continued walking until a phrase caught his attention.

          “ - told you-know-who about your recent success,” the seventh-year, Synde said gleefully. “He was most inspired by your bloodlust.”

          “You never thought I could’ve done it,” Nott shot back with a sense of smugness.

          “What I think does not matter,” Synde replied smoothly. “What matters is that he now intends an invitation for you to join his noble cause.”

          “I hope you mean us,” Dolohov strolled into view as he glared viciously at Nott, who immediately dipped his head in deference. “This coward would not have been able to accomplish anything without my help.”

          “Of course,” Synde said agreeably. “He was also told of your instrumental role in the... elimination of an important rival. He was particularly impressed by your political sense and how you identified what was necessary to further his cause without requiring his input. He eagers await your graduation from Hogwarts.”

          Dolohov grinned pridefully as he smacked Nott on the head.

          “Watch your step, Nott,” Dolohov hissed. “Don’t even think about claiming all the credit. You did nothing except for delivering that tart to Black -”

          “YOU BASTARDS!” Alexander screamed as he whipped out his wand and pointed at the three boys. “You poisoned Turais! You’ve stooped so low that you pretended to be a mudblood to trick him into eating the tart because he was a good person and trusting like that! You will not succeed!”

         “Oh, I have, already -” Dolohov admitted airily while Nott tensed beside him.

         “Dolohov!” Nott interrupted nervously.

         “I knew it!” Alexander shouted at the blatant admission.

         “Stop being a coward, Nott,” Dolohov said calmly. “For the record, what I meant was I succeeded in performing a particularly pesky Transfiguration Spell. Don’t let your mind jump to conclusions -”

         “I will kill you for what you’ve done to Turais!” Alexander’s face contorted in pure rage and fury.

         “I’ll like to see you try, worthless half-blood,” Dolohov leered dangerously. “You better double-check your pumpkin juice. Someone might just accidentally slip something into it. But maybe you’ll drink it even if you knew anyways… so you can join your boyfriend -”

          Alexander’s blue eyes flashed red as he cast a spell, but it was defected by Dolohov with a lazy flick of his wand. A second later, the second-year suddenly found his limbs snapped together as he fell forward flat onto the floor. A sickening crunch sounded when Alexander’s nose was broken on impact. Dolohov walked up and knelt beside his unmoving body. 

          Alexander flinched as Dolohov tapped the tip of his crooked wand against his cheek. Dolohov chuckled maliciously and said, “Do you think I am going to kill you now? Not so soon. A new world order is coming. Black and his creature and mudblood-loving ways will die with him. I will enjoy watching you despair as the world burns.”

          Dolohov laughed as he stepped on Alexander’s back and left.

          Then, Alexander felt his entire body rotate upwards as Nott loomed over him.

          “Well, well, well. Guess who we have here?” Nott smirked. “It’s seems someone wants a repeat of last week.”

          Alexander suffered mutedly under Nott’s callous ministration until a series of footsteps approached. Through his pain-addled mind, Alexander looked up hopefully and tried to glimpse at Turais’s face.

          However, instead of Turais, Alex realized it was Flint.

          The boy ignored Alexander and spoke to Nott, “Slughorn is looking for you, Nott. Let him go and head to his office.”

          Nott glared at Alexander angrily as he released the younger boy from the curse.

          “You’re lucky this time,” Nott spat as he aimed a kick at Alexander’s stomach, who hissed out an exhausted grunt of pain. “Try telling anyone that we bullied you and expect something worse than this.”

           Then, Nott left Alexander with Flint.

          Alex curled into himself as he mustered the most hateful stare at the boy he shared a dormitory for the past year. However, his entire body was shaking and trembling uncontrollably. Flint pulled out his wand, and Alex immediately abandoned his bravado and shrunk away from the wand tip.

          “Please...” Alexander muttered wetly as tears streamed down his face messily. “No more... please... I beg you...”

          “Don’t move,” Flint snapped as he seized Alexander’s robe and pulled the sleeve up to reveal all the bruise marks. He probed at the injuries and muttered, “Episkey.

          The pain alleviated instantly under the gentle, indigo glow as Alexander eyed Flint wearily.

          “Shut up,” Flint hissed warningly after a glance at Alexander’s face. Then, he continued to heal all the other injuries until only those on his face remained. However, Flint stuffed his wand in his robe and stepped away. “I’ll leave those, so the others don’t know that I healed you -”

          “Why?” Alexander gasped out urgently as Flint turned to leave. “Why are you helping me?”

          The other boy’s movement stilled. Without turning around, he admitted, “My family is aligned with the Malfoys, so I’m obligated to be antagonistic towards Black just as Steward is obligated to play nice with him. But... But... I...”

          Flint seemingly stopped himself from revealing something as he cleared his throat and straightened his back. With a firm, strained voice, he continued, “Black is wrong about many things, but he has one thing correct. While he is a pretentious, self-righteous arsehole, many of us prefer him over whatever is happening to this House... Pray that he returns alive and well for your sake and ours, or we will have several long, difficult years ahead of us.”

          With that, Flint left Alexander, who continued to sit there, stunned.

          Flint willingly healed him despite their differences, but Alexander realized it was all for naught. Because Turais was never going to return to Hogwarts... and he would never have the chance to see just how much things could change for the better under his watch...

          It was laughable, really, which elicited a pained, deprecating chuckle to leave Alexander’s lips before they slowly twisted into a bitter curl. Then, for the first time since he last saw Turais, Alexander allowed himself to cry uninhibited. 

Chapter 25: Repercussions (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

REPERCUSSIONS


 

February 23, 1971 (Tuesday)

 

POISONING CASE SHROUDED IN MYSTERY

by Andy Smudgley

Black Heir Remains Unconscious

Tectonic Shifts in Wizengamot Politics

 

Turais Orion Black, aged twelve, is the eldest grandson of Lord Arcturus Black, was poisoned at Hogwarts on Valentine’s Day. Despite his tender age, he has already exhibited immense potential and is considered one of the rising stars in the Wizarding World.

In a surprisingly move yesterday, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has publicly addressed the issue in the Wizengamot chamber and urged parents to remain calm. He restated that Hogwarts remained one of the most well-protected and safest locations in Wizarding Britain and the world. However, he has refused to answer any questions and left the chamber immediately after his address.

Turais Black’s poisoning has caused a rift in the Malfoy-Black alliance. Anonymous sources have stated that the Black alliance has severe mistrust against the Malfoy-led coalition as they believed they played an important role in the attack on the Black Heir.

”The current thinking is that some of Malfoy’s allies have broken faith with the Black alliance by attacking one of their best and brightest,” the anonymous staffer revealed. “They are nervous to lose them as allies, but they are also furious with the situation at hand. There is generally a lot of confusion right now.”

This rift was visualized when Lord Black and Lord Malfoy entered the chamber separately for the first time since their alliance has formed. Regardless, it seems as though Lord Black is at a crossroad...

 

***

 

         Turais creaked open his eyes to see an endless stretch of white nothingness extending in all directions. His body felt light as he let his arms sway and buoy in the gentle currents around him. Vaguely, he felt that he was floating steadily downwards. However, there were no landmarks that provided him with any sense of direction or orientation.

         Then, a dark dot appeared in the far distance rapidly grew into a black, fluid-like cloud that constantly warped and twisted upon itself. It encroached the white space with its far-reaching tendrils, and soon, half of his world was replaced by a dark, ever-expanding void.

         Turais continued to fall away from the menacing presence, staying just out of reach from the sentient, claw-like appendages. However, the distance between them was rapidly diminishing.

         Just as Turais thought he would be consumed by the unknown darkness, a ball of white light streaked past Turais’s shoulder and collided against the swirling, oleaginous plumes. The light energy exploded and caused the gaseous appendage to retract into its chaotic mass.

         As the light dissipated, Turais thought he heard a faint whisper, but he was quickly distracted by a spiraling column of black clouds that streamed towards him. Then, another luminous sphere crashed into it, dissipating both objects into nothing.

         This time, as the light turned to wisps of smoke, Turais caught a hollow echo of Orion’s heart-wrenching gasp, “Hang on, Turais.”

          ‘You are at the brink of passing over, young Master, and your family is trying to bring you back.’

         Turais cast his gaze around urgently. Death was nowhere in sight. However, Turais spotted a light directly above him instead. It burnt so brightly that it would dim the midsummer sun in comparison.

         “He is fading,” Sybil’s urgent voice echoed as the space was filled with the quiet, frightened sobs from Sirius and Regulus.

          Just as Turais was about to ask another question, he felt pain explode in his stomach that dizzied him. He cried out involuntarily as the wall of darkness swelled and encased him. The world plunged into obsidian darkness with only a tiny opening above him where the light source remained, now barely visible.

          ‘You need to wake up now.”

           Through his pain-addled mind and clenched teeth, Turais willed himself to reach for the light amidst the all-encompassing darkness. As he approached the light, his consciousness started to slip.

           The last thing he remembered was Orion’s words that repeated like a desperate hymn.

           “Wake up, Turais. Wake up.”

 

***

 

          Turais felt warm hands on his cheeks as a familiar voice called quietly and rhythmically like a hymn, “Turais - Turais, it’s time to wake up now. Wake up.” The voice echoed and reverberated melodiously inside his skull. “Wake up… Turais…”

          “No… no…” He wanted to sleep for a long, long, long time. 

          “That’s right, Turais. Wake up now… wake up….” The voice was filled with warmth, light, and safety. Orion. He reached out to his senses.

          Softness. Warmth. Smooth. Bright.

          Everything was so bright, and Turais wanted to squirm away from the blinding white light around him.

          “Turais!” This time, Orion’s voice boomed in his head so loudly that he felt himself flinch. “If you don’t wake up right now, you are going to be in so much trouble!” 

          Turais opened his eyes and immediately shut them again.

          “So bright…” he rasped. His lips and throat felt as dry as a desert.

         “Contact his family. Tell them Mr Black has awoken,” Turais heard someone say in an echoing and distorted voice as the familiar stench of Cleaning Potions hit his nostrils sharply.

         ‘St. Mungo’s.’

         When Turais was finally able to open his eyes, he found himself looking up at a young man with shiny, jet black hair and warm brown eyes. He then looked around the room and saw two Mediwitches were standing by the door. However, Orion was nowhere in sight.

         It was then that Turais realized he merely dreamt of his father being the one he woke up to. That knowledge stirred a sense of regret and disappointment inside Turais. Somehow, he really wanted Orion to be the first person he saw. 

         “Hello. I am Healer Carl Selwyn, and you can call me Carl. You are currently recovering at St. Mungo’s,” the man before him explained with a soothing voice. “We have already notified your family of your latest condition. I am sure they will arrive very soon. And, please refrain from any sudden movements as it may aggravate your injuries.”

         Turais nodded as the Healer continued, “So, what is your name?”

         “Turais Black.”

         “Do you remember why you were brought here, Turais?”

         “I... I... think I was poisoned,” Turais breathed out. “And I lost consciousness.”

         The man nodded.

         “Turais, you were transported from Hogwarts to St. Mungo’s and was diagnosed with acute nightshade-associated poisoning...” Carl paused, looking hesitant, before he continued, “You were admitted to the hospital over a month ago -”

         “A month?!” Turais gasped as he tried to sit up. However, a searing pain flared in his stomach and forced him to lie down immediately.

         “It would be wise to stay still and not aggravate your injuries, Turais, or I will be forced to place you under Stasis,” Carl warned as he immediately placed his hands on Turais’s shoulders to keep him still. Turais nodded as the pain ebbed away into a dull throb. When Turais’s laboured breathing smoothed out, Carl continued, “Yes, you have been unconscious for a month... and we were expecting the worst. But you were very fortunate that you only ingested trace amounts of the poison and also had access to a bezoar... you would likely not have survived otherwise. It was truly a miracle.” 

         Turais breathed heavily as he allowed his brain to process the information. 

         “How about Nott - I mean  - the one who poisoned me?” Turais asked. “Are they caught?”

         Carl grimaced and said, “I am not sure, Turais. Perhaps you can ask the Aurors later.” Turais nodded as Carl said, “If you are ready, then allow me to conduct the regular battery of diagnostic tests. There could be mild discomfort, and please alert us if you have any concerns at any point of the procedure.”

         “Thank you, Carl.”

         The Healer smiled and replied, “You’re welcome, Turais.”

         Carl drew the privacy screens around Turais’s bed shut and began to cast diagnostic and monitoring charms on him as the Mediwitches analyzed the readings. After the examination, Turais asked, “How am I? Will I make a full recovery?”

         “Yes, I am glad to say that your readings look stable. It will take plenty of rest and time, but I am confident that you will make a full recovery.”

         Turais’s heart settled as he breathed out a heartfelt thank-you.

         The Healer nodded as he walked out of the room. A few moments later, a disheveled Orion immediately darted into the room and knelt beside Turais’s bed.

         “Turais!” Orion cried out as he cupped Turais’s face gently inside his large hands and pressed a kiss on his forehead. Then, the father scanned Turais’s face and whispered, “Thank Hecate that you are awake... I am so sorry that I was not here when you woke up, Turais... you must have been so scared...”

         As Orion muttered his teary apologies, Turais took in the dark circle under Orion’s haunted eye, the pasty, waxen cheeks, and the unshaven stubble that had never marred his father’s jaw in the past twelve years.

         Suddenly, Turais felt the burning prick of tears in the back of his eyes. Guilt, shame, embarrassment, and anger roared into his mind as he berated himself for underestimating Nott and overlooking the oblivious signs that he should’ve caught. He thought back to the fateful decision where he slighted Nott at the Malfoy Ball - the time when he shamed Nott in front of the entire House - how he ignored Andromeda’s advice to notify others instead of thinking he could handle the situation on his own - to the sight of Nott grinning with malevolent glee when he thought his enemy was taking his final breaths in excruciating pain and agony…

         Turais never had a family to live for or worry about when he did something stupid, but now he had a father whose entire world was centred on his son’s well-being and happiness.

         Upon that thought, Turais felt like he was falling even though he was comfortably lying on a bed. His brain spun in uncontrollable panic and fear. His heart pounded heavily as if it was trying to escape his chest. Then, he realized he was suffocating...

         “Damn it, Turais! Breathe,” Turais heard his father speak as he tried to focus on the warmth that enveloped his cheeks. He sucked in a wheezing breath, then a second breath. And a third.

         “I’m sorry, father,” Turais blurted out as hot tears inadvertently rolled down his cheeks. “I should’ve known better. I should not have picked a fight against Nott. Or Dolohov. I didn’t keep myself safe. I broke my promise to you. I should’ve known they were up to something -”

         “It’s alright, son, you’re safe. That’s all that matters right now,” Orion said softly, caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs steadily.

         “No, it’s not alright, father! Do not excuse my behaviour. I don’t deserve it!” Turais shouted thickly. “You told me the most important thing to you was my happiness and my health. But you, Siri, and Reggie being happy are what makes me happy. And I made you all worried, and I almost died. I -” His voice sounded incredibly small to his ears. Unable to even turn his head, Turais opted for the second-best option and closed his eyes as he tried to hold his tearing heart together. Tears continued to stream out of his blinking eyes. He felt painful squeezes on his hands, but he didn’t care.

         “Turais! Son! Listen to me. Yes, we were worried. Yes, you almost died. But it wasn’t your fault -” 

         Turais shook his head and shouted. “No! I deserve it! I slighted Nott in the first place! Why did I need to do that?”

         “No, son -” 

         “There were other choices. I could’ve done it differently! I could’ve -”

         “LISTEN!” Orion roared.

         Turais’s words died in his throat at his commanding tone, but Orion had already softened his expression. “Yes, you and Nott had a long, patchy relationship. Yes, you might have embarrassed him in front of everyone. But that does not mean you are responsible for his actions. And that definitely does not mean he has a right to harm you in any way. Do you understand?”

         At Turais’s silence, Orion asked again, “Do you understand?”

         Turais could not bring himself to acknowledge his father’s words.

         “If I may interrupt...” Carl spoke gently. Turais snapped up to the man violently, just noticed his presence. If Orion’s immediate flinch was any indication, his father was equally as oblivious. “The Aurors, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Professor Slughorn - they are outside, and they wish to speak with Turais.”

         “Turn them away for us,” Orion said at once. “What my son needs right now is rest.”   

         “I am afraid they are quite persistent -”

         “I don’t care what they want,” Orion hissed. “Tell them to come on a different day -”

         “Father,” Turais interrupted softly as Orion immediately quieted. “They will have to speak with me at some point. I might as well get it over with now before they corner me when you are not around.”

         Orion sighed as he acquiesced to Turais’s request and gave him an encouraging squeeze on the hand. When the Auror pair walked in, Turais could barely suppress a gasp as he saw a very young, barely twenty years old Alastor Moody stroll in behind an older man. Both his eyes were still intact, and he did not have a limp. 

         “Senior Auror Sayre at your service,” the older man announced. “And this is my partner, Auror Moody.”

         Orion nodded at them coolly before he turned his attention to Dumbledore.

         “Headmaster,” he gritted out lowly.

         “School Governor,” Dumbledore replied. His expression was grave and somber as he nodded at Turais, “Mr Black, I am glad to see you awake and firmly on your way to recovery.”

         “Thank you, Headmaster,” Turais replied. Turning to the Aurors, Turais asked, “Do you know what the poison was? I know it was in the treacle tact.”

         “Allow me to answer that, Mr Black,” Dumbledore stepped forward. “Professor Slughorn has determined it to be the Devil’s Nightshade. It is an extremely powerful, poisonous substance that is brewed with multiple species of poisonous nightshades, each lethal and illegal in their own right, to create a poison with such complexity that makes its determination extremely difficult.”

         “How could that poison have escaped the detection of your wards, Headmaster?” Orion accused.

         “I assure you that the wards are all in perfect order,” Dumbledore said calmly.

         “But this poison, or its ingredients, must have come from somewhere if it didn’t originate from the castle!” Orion hissed. “Or else, it must have been some inherent loophole built into the wards since its creation. I demand a thorough search of the castle for any secret passages.”

         “Of course, you would be well-acquainted with those aspects of Warding, School Governor -“

         Orion’s eyes flashed dangerously as he asked icily, “What are you implying, Headmaster?”

         “Nothing at all. But to your point, School Governor, my staff has already conducted two thorough searches since the incident occurred...” Dumbledore said calmly, “...and we have discovered three previously unknown passages that link Hogwarts to the nearby village of Hogsmeade. My staff has since permanently blocked them.”

         Turais surmised that those were the three hidden passages that were inaccessible in his previous lifetime. At the same time, he was relieved that the four passages that he had knowledge of were still functional.

         “That is a severe security flaw, and you will be held responsible, Headmaster,” Orion said. “I will bring this to the attention of the Board of Governors.”

         “I expected no less,” Dumbledore said soothingly. “Therefore, I have taken the liberty to send forth the discovery of these passages to the Board. Ah - I see this is news to you. Perhaps your mail must have been turned up at your residence. But rest assured that some of the members have already expressed gratitude for my swift and decisive actions. Some have also accepted my explanation that the Warding in Hogwarts is so ancient and complex that no Head of Hogwarts could be held responsible for every loophole in it.”

         Orion seethed with rage. Turais knew that Dumbledore had just revealed that he still enjoyed the support of some School Governors. Since any decisions from the Board must be made unanimously, this effectively ended any of Orion’s threats to wield his office as a weapon.

         Turais asked, “Have you confirmed who the culprit is?” 

         “Unfortunately not,” Dumbledore said. “Mr Fawley and Mr Steward claimed that Ms Stahl gave the gift to your son as a Valentine’s Day gift. Is that true, Mr Black?”

         Turais nodded. 

         “When did you converse with her?”

         “I remember it was in the early afternoon around lunch,” Turais said as he noticed that the Aurors were taking notes.

         “However, Ms Stahl had been escorted by Mr Steward to the Hospital Wing and remained there for the entire day of the incident. She had ingested Manegro Potion, which caused her hair to grow uncontrollably. Madam Roland could attest to that, and she has her magical signature on the diagnostic record to prove her alibi,” Dumbledore looked at the Aurors, who nodded to confirm.

         “But, I’m not sure if it was actually her,” Turais said slowly as he thought back to when he saw “Jane” in the library. “I suspect Nott has Polyjuiced himself as Jane to approach me.”

         “Polyjuice Potion?” Dumbledore asked sharply. “And Mr Nott? That is a serious accusation - the act of attempted murder and identity theft.”

         Turais’s irritation flared. “Headmaster, I did not poison myself with this Devil’s Nightshade poison to wrongfully accuse someone. I have my reasons.” Turais was also surprised by the dripping venom in his voice.

         Dumbledore flinched at his tone as Orion stared fiercely at the old man’s insinuation.

         “When we were conversing in the library, I saw her black hair turn red before she fled,” Turais continued on, ignoring Dumbledore’s expression. He didn’t have time to deal with a person who was determined to slow-walk each and every decision just because he was from a Dark family. “However, I didn’t recognize the hint then, and I even commented that she was blushing so hard her hair turned red. You can confirm with my friend, Alexander Fawley. I suspect Nott because he has red hair, and we did not have the best of relations ever.”

         “But what is his motive for killing you, Mr Black?”

         “I don’t know, Headmaster, but the entire House knows we hate one other. I don’t know how to prove his involvement, but I know he must’ve had a hand in this.”

         Dumbledore hummed as he considered the information. Then he turned his attention to the Potions professor. “Horace, I know the seventh-year students just finished their end-of-term project on brewing three potions simultaneously. And I am aware that one of the potions is the Polyjuice Potion. Would the stealing of Polyjuice Potion by a seventh-year have been possible?”

         “Well... I suppose so… Albus. I made sure to vanish the potions after I finished inspecting their cauldrons as they were all restricted potions. But I’m afraid I might not notice if someone deliberately stole a swig just before the inspection or even before the potion was completed to smuggle it out of the classroom,” Professor Slughorn spoke weakly.

          “But Mr Nott is not in N.E.W.T. Potions class. He did not pass his Potions O.W.L. two years ago,” Dumbledore spoke.

         “How about Dolohov?” Turais gasped in realization.

         “Mr Dolohov is in N.E.W.T. Potions. Mr Black, are you suggesting that Mr Dolohov is implicated in this as well?”

         “Yes, Headmaster. On my second day back, my cousin Andromeda and I overheard that Nott was at risk of being unable to join the Knights of Walpurgis. Andromeda also overheard the Lestranges at my cousin Bellatrix’s wedding that I was supposedly a ‘test.’ I did not understand the implications at the time, but now... I think Voldemort asked Nott to prove himself worthy by poisoning me.”

         Throughout the entire interview, Orion’s grasp on Turais’s hand tightened as he heard all the information for the first time. Now, his grip was nearing a painful squeeze.

         “I would have to agree with Mr Black that the two students are worth investigating,” Auror Sayre said slowly as he looked directly at Orion. “Our sources monitoring the Knights have caught whispers of their success in poisoning Mr Black before the news broke publicly. We suspected that the culprits have relayed the information from within Hogwarts, and Mr Black’s testimony corroborates with our findings.

         “Unfortunately, this evidence is hearsay and purely circumstantial. As a minor, Mr Black’s words and memories will not be looked upon favourably either without further supporting evidence. Unless more evidence presents itself, there are no legal grounds for him to bring anyone to court.”

         “I have feared this much, Auror Sayre,” Turais grimaced. “But thank you for listening nonetheless. At least I lived to present my case.”

         Orion was thrumming with frustration as there was no way to indisputably link the crime to Nott and Dolohov.

         “What can we do?” Orion asked finally. “I cannot allow my son, who was poisoned by two of his peers, to continue studying in such an unsafe environment… I am forced to withdraw my son from Hogwarts, Headmaster.”

         “No, father. I must stay,” Turais spoke fiercely.

         “Turais, I cannot protect you from a distance, and clearly, Hogwarts is too dangerous for you to stay any longer!” Orion said fiercely.

         Turais knew he must think of a way to convince his father to allow him to stay, which meant eliminating the two threats.

         Turais snapped his attention to Dumbledore. “Headmaster, who knows about my revival?”

         “No one beyond these walls,” Dumbledore confirmed.

         Auror Sayre shot Turais a knowing glance. He must have thought of a similar plan as the one Turais was about to suggest and spoke up. “Headmaster, then hold off the announce of Mr Black’s recent change in his health condition. We have a chance to smoke out the two culprits into admission, and we must strike while we have the element of surprise.”

         “And you stated previously, Auror Sayre, the culprits have already claimed success within the ranks of the Knights. If it turns out that I have recovered, they will face the ire of Voldemort for their failure and supposed deception. Therefore, they cannot afford to let me live for fear of retribution,” Turais added. “We just have to pretend that I am unguarded at Hogwarts, then they will most certainly take their chance. We will be able to catch them in the act.”

         “No! I am not letting you become bait for some murderous lunatics to try and kill you a second time!” Orion protested.

         “Father, one of the Aurors can take a Polyjuice Potion to pose as me so I will not be directly in harm’s way,” Turais said placatingly while sending a cursory glance at the Aurors.

         “Yes, that would be an excellent idea, Mr Black,” Auror Sayre said affirmingly.

         “I also approve the Aurors’ operation for the capture of the culprits of Mr Black’s poisoning and attempted murder,” Dumbledore announced. “The Hogwarts staff will be in full cooperation with the Aurors.”

         Orion clutched Turais’s hand tightly, and Turais said, “It will be alright.”

         Orion glanced at Turais and nodded tensely.

 

***

 

         According to the plan, Professor Slughorn announced to the entire Slytherin House that Turais’s condition had stabilized and that he would return to Hogwarts for the remainder of his recovery process. Professor McGonagall then revealed a fabricated lie in a conversation with Professor Slughorn when Nott and Dolohov were within earshot. The lie was that Turais was unconscious and would awaken once the Revival potions were administered later that day at midnight.

         With this information, Nott and Dolohov would have to strike that day.

         The Aurors had already placed complex, undetectable Monitoring and Recording Spells around the Hospital Wing while they concealed themselves in the rooms neighbouring the ward. Turais’s room at St. Mungo’s was set up as the control centre with all the Monitoring equipment, per Turais’s request to watch the operation. Senior Auror Meliflua, the leader of the operation, stood next to Orion and Arcturus as a team of Aurors monitored the audio-visual Monitoring Spells shown on a large array of Foe-glasses and sound boxes. Beside the large panel of images that offered multiple views of the nearby corridors stood multiple Dark Detectors and Secrecy probes were calibrated to focus their detection range at the Hospital Wing area.

         As it approached curfew, Moody took the Polyjuice Potion that was effective for four hours. After a swallow and a grimace, the Auror laid down on the hospital bed as a newly transformed Turais. Now, all they could do was wait.

         In the distance, the Clock Tower knelled solemnly for ten times. As planned, Madam Roland left the Hospital Wing and headed off, leaving the ward with only one Auror guard at the door.

         Five minutes turned into ten minutes. Then, it became thirty minutes. Eventually, the Clock Tower knelled eleven times. 

         As Turais started to worry that Nott and Dolohov would not appear and this elaborate plan would fall to waste, a disturbance occurred near the base of the stairs.

         “Conway, move away from your post,” Meliflua said to the Auror guard through a Non-Verbal Concealed Communication Charm. This charm allowed the Aurors to communicate through a secured mental link via thoughts or words. “They might be drawing you out.”

         The Auror, glowing in green on the panel of images, nodded as she left her post by the Hospital Wing doors and slowly climbed down the staircase. 

         ‘Three figures, under Disillusionment Charm, at the two o’clock position behind the pillars.’

         ‘Three figures?’ Turais thought. ‘Who was the third person involved?’ Suddenly, Turais realized how little he understood of the dangerous situation he had placed himself in. He had, once again, overestimated his abilities.

         “Conway, do not engage. Repeat, do not engage. Go left. D.I.S. unless lethal.”

         ‘Copied.’ Conway slowly inched to the base of the staircase, paused to check both directions, before turning left and inched down the hallway. The path to the Hospital Wing was now clear from the pillars which the attackers, glowing in red, were lurking at.

         When she was twenty feet away from the staircase, she heard three pairs of muffled footsteps running across the hallway and towards the staircase.

         ‘Attackers on the move to Hospital Wing.’

         “Conway, do not engage. Continue path away from the action.”

         ‘Copied.’ She deliberately ignored the noise and pretended to continue her search as the three attackers climbed up the stairs. 

         “Moody, they are at the door,” Meliflua notified the young Auror.

         ‘Copied.’

         Turais heard the soft incantation of the Unlocking Charm used through the audio Monitoring spells as the door creaked open slightly.

         “Homenum Revelio,” one of the figures whispered with its wand pointing through the tiny crack. After confirming that there was only one person in the room, the door opened wider as they slipped into the room.

         “Nott, stand by the door and alert us.”

         Two figures closed the door behind them as the third stood outside the double doors. The two attackers surveyed the room and locked onto the awaiting Auror.

         On the largest Foe-glass, two red figures walked cautiously towards the green Moody that laid still on the bed. The Aurors quietly gathered by the Hospital Wing entrance out of view and Stunned Nott while the two attackers inside the Hospital Wing were still unaware of the situation.

         “Black,” Turais gasped as he heard Montague’s shaky voice. The boy slowly approached the bed until he was hovering over the silent Moody. Montague whispered with a hint of anger and regret, “We have already let the Dark Lord know we have successfully rid him of you. We cannot allow you to recover...  Avada - 

         Moody immediately opened his eyes and whipped out his wand from beneath the blanket as he threw the blanket at the two assailants. The team of Aurors quickly barged into the room and shouted multiple Stunning Spells towards his bed as Moody rolled away and onto the ground for cover.

         The two red figures collapsed to the floor and turned grey, indicating that they were now incapacitated. The Aurors muttered the counterspell for the Disillusionment Spell and revealed the unconscious figures of Dolohov and Montague.

         Turais was stunned. Montague, a Chaser on the Slytherin team - a person he had spent countless hours on the Quidditch Pitch with - was against him. Just how much of this plot against him was he not aware of...

         “All assailants down. Grade three criminal protocol in effect,” Meliflua concluded. He stood up from his post and covered the ongoing image of green figures swarming around the two grey figures for the arrest.

         “The mission was a success,” he said with a relieved smile. “The culprits behind your grandson’s poisoning have been apprehended.”

         “Thank you. But I am afraid the three of them are only the visible tip of the iceberg,” Arcturus replied. “Three boys who are barely of age cannot be solely responsible for such a cruel and meticulously-planned assault on my son. You must keep investigating deeper into this matter.”

         “I agree,” Meliflua’s demeanour returned to one of absolute professionalism. “Please rest assured that the Auror Office will do everything to ensure your grandson is safe and well-protected. In fact, I believe that Head Auror Shafiq has been discussing with the Headmaster on how to increase the castle’s protection.”

         “Thank you for your help. I will be sending a letter of recommendation for your team in the near future,” Arcturus said as he extended his hand, which the Auror took without hesitation.

         As the Aurors started to pack up their equipment, Turais asked his family, “Now that the culprits are apprehended, can I return to Hogwarts?”

         Orion frowned sternly as Arcturus scoffed, “Of course, you must stay in Hogwarts, Turais. Those murderers should be the ones seeking refuge in the shadows, not you.”

         “But father,” Orion spoke up angrily, “As you said, the plot on Turais’s life clearly runs far deeper than what meets the eye. We should keep him safe until -”

         “Until what exactly?” Arcturus hissed. “Turais is a powerful heir, and he will forever attract the ire of our enemies.”

         “But -”

         “I am well-aware of your wasted years at Hogwarts, Orion. Constantly cowering in fear and having less of an impact than a pebble dropped in the North Sea,” Arcturus retorted bitingly. “Turais will not be following your path.”

         Before Turais could react to Arcturus’s revelations, the grandfather continued, “Moving forward. You must be very mindful of Lucius Malfoy and Dumbledore’s actions.”

         “You are suspicious that this was Malfoy or Dumbledore’s plot to eliminate me?” Turais asked in surprise.

         “No, I do not. It is obviously an act of terrorism by three pureblood fanatics. While the Montagues, Notts, and Dolohovs are aligned with the Malfoys in the Ministry, the Malfoys are too self-preserving to ever commit such an act while Lucius is still in Hogwarts. Abraxas would never chance his precious son’s reputation and standing. Neither would Dumbledore, for he would not risk losing the immense clout and influence he wields over impressionable youths as Headmaster. I firmly believe this is the three families’ selfish plan to curry some type of favour or goodwill to this… Dark Lord…

         “Then why?”

         “My sources tell me that the Malfoys have secretly been in contact with Voldemort and the Knights ever since our refusal to an alliance with them. But communication between them has increased dramatically after your poisoning. While an alliance between them would be unfavourable for us, it was to be expected since Voldemort wished to gain a voice in the Ministry. At least for the near future, there would not be any changes to the dynamics of the Ministry. It would still be the Malfoys and us against Dumbledore. But… if you were out of the picture….”

         Arcturus trailed off and looked at Turais expectantly.

         “Then, the Malfoys will be able to unify your half of the Dark families with help from Voldemort to form a united front against Dumbledore,” Turais grimaced. “I understand. What about Dumbledore?”

         “He will continue to find ways to undermine the Dark families, especially us and the Malfoys. But Lucius Malfoy will be leaving Hogwarts in two years’ time while you will remain for the next six years. You will soon become Dumbledore’s main priority, and he will try his best to curb your influence. Even the slightest misbehaviour on your part would be exploited by him. You must be careful.”

 

Chapter 26: The Intricacies of Caring (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE INTRICACIES OF CARING


 

March 24, 1971 (Wednesday)

 

NOTT, DOLOHOV, MONTAGUE ARRESTED FOR HOGWARTS POISONING

by Andy Smudgley

Turais Black to make Full Recovery

 

Since the announcement of the terrifying attempt on the life of the Master Turais Black, aged twelve, the case has been shrouded in mystery. The Aurors were clearly mystified as well as they were unable to provide any details regarding the potential culprits, murder intentions, or even which poison was used for the past two weeks. The lack of progress on the high-profile case has troubled many parents who are worried that their children’s safety was at risk. 

However, in a surprising twist, the case has apparently been solved. Yesterday, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has jointly announced with Head Auror Samuel Meliflua the arrest of three seventh-year students (all aged seventeen), Mr Antonin Dolohov, Mr Brutus Nott, and Mr Cyrus Montague, under multiple felony charges, including attempted murder of a minor, aggravated assault on minors, and illegal possession and handling of restricted substances (see page 2 for full list of charges). Despite this announcement, the details on the case, arrest and evidence remained classified, which adds yet another layer of complexity to the enigma. 

During the announcement, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has also announced that Mr Turais Black will be recovering fully from his poisoning despite not knowing what the poison was. This comes as a relief to many who considered him as a rising star of the Wizarding World...

 

***

 

         It took a week for the last of the poison’s effects to be cleared from Turais’s body and another week until he was declared healthy to return to Hogwarts. For most of those two weeks, Turais spent his days under Orion’s watchful gaze and his nights trapped between his two brothers who had wrapped their limbs around and over him like a pair of Devil’s Snare.

         Meanwhile, the news of the capture of Dolohov, Montague and Nott predictably sent shockwaves throughout Hogwarts and Wizarding Britain. No one anticipated the poisoning of the Black heir to be the works of three fellow Slytherin seventh-years. Turais’s predicted full recovery was also publicized, leading to an outpour of support for Turais and the Black family. 

         Turais had also received visits from his family, relatives, and Damocles, who told him that he had submitted the Wolfsbane Potion for approval to start the clinical trials.

         Finally, the day that Turais would be discharged from St. Mungo’s came.

         “Turais,” Orion said softly as Turais buttoned his school robes. “Do you have to go back to Hogwarts?”

         “I am sure, father,” Turais replied firmly. He walked up to Orion and placed his hand on his father’s tense shoulders said, “Don’t worry, father. Everything will be fine.”

         “How can I not be worried?” Orion whispered as he put his warm, soft hand over Turais’s. Then, he gestured for Sirius and Regulus to crawl onto his lap as he continued softly, “You three - you are my everything.”

         “Father...” Turais’s words faltered as he looked into the pair of grey eyes that shone with utmost sincerity.

         “You must forgive a father’s irrationality when it comes to the safety of his children,” Orion said as he squeezed Turais’s hand.

         Turais gulped heavily as he suddenly felt an avalanche of emotions overwhelm him. He took in a shaky breath before he whispered, “There is nothing to forgive, father. On the contrary, it is admirable.”

         Turais hugged Orion affectionately and buried his face in his father’s robes. At that moment, Turais allowed Orion’s warmth to wash over him.

         “But Turais,” Orion drew Turais’s attention back to him. There was a sombre look on his face as he said, “Please be careful. I... I don’t think I will survive another scare like this....”

         “This will never happen again,” Turais said firmly, and he intended to keep this promise.

 

***

 

         When Turais walked through the giant oak doors, he was met with a raucous standing ovation that nothing could have ever prepared him for. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins alike were all cheering with the utmost enthusiasm and earnestness that made Turais flush in embarrassment.

         What took him completely by surprise was the friendly disposition displayed by his once-enemies such as Flint, Urquhart, and Bletchley, just to name a few. 

         “Welcome back, Black!”

         “Black, I just want to say they were despicable human scum for doing this to you -”

         “Black is back!”

         As Turais walked to his normal seat, he received approving pats on the back and shouts of support. Andromeda communicated her relief through a quick squeeze on his arm as he walked past her.

         “I’m so glad to see you, Turais,” Jonty breathed out as Turais sat down beside him. “Listen -”

         “Where is Alex?” Turais interrupted, eyeing around for the missing boy.

         Jonty hesitated as he said, “He... he is feeling unwell...”

         “Unwell?” Turais frowned. Then, he thought back to the unanswered letters that he had sent Alex when he was at St. Mungo’s as he asked, “I wrote to him, but he never responded. Did something happen?”

         “Look, Turais,” Jonty said quickly. “When everyone thought you would never return, Malfoy and his allies decided to seize control of the House, and they... they made an example out of Alex to... to... make sure that everyone obeyed them...”

         “What did they do to him?” Turais hissed urgently. “Tell me. Now!”

         “They basically... they immobilized him against the wall and used him as target practice for their Stinging Jinxes -”

         “How could you let that happen?!” accused Turais as Jonty winced. “Alex is not seriously injured in any way, is he?”

         “No -”

         “Who participated?”

         “All of Malfoy’s allies. Look, Turais, I’m sorry -”

         “Save it for Alex,” Turais dismissed as he finally pieced everything together. “Why did none of you do anything?”

         “Because none of us dared to, Turais,” Jonty hissed loudly before he realized that they were still in the Great Hall surrounded by the entire school.

         “We will talk later,” Turais hissed angrily as he glared at the bullies. After several scoops of mashed potato that tasted like ashes in his mouth, Turais wrapped several dinner rolls in a napkin and dragged Jonty out of the Great Hall as he ignored all the curious gazes that trailed after him. Jogging towards the common room, Turais demanded, “Explain.”

         Jonty revealed everything that transpired in Slytherin up until the news of Turais’s recovery, and Turais could feel the anger rise inside him. 

         “Alex told me to steer clear of him...” Jonty muttered softly. “I know he is my friend and that I should’ve stuck by him... but... I... they were terrifying, Turais, and I... I...”

         Turais looked at his friend, who looked ashamed and utterly miserable. Then, Turais had to take a moment to remind himself that Jonty was only a second-year and that he, like everyone else, was under a lot of pressure to keep his head down and his mouth shut.

         “I... I’m not angry at you, Jonty,” Turais said gently. “I’m just frustrated and angry that this happened at all...”

         Arriving at the Slytherin common room, Turais knocked on the door before entering the second-year dormitories. All the beds were empty except for one in which the curtains were drawn shut. 

         “Alex,” Jonty spoke up.

         “Go away,” Alex’s voice grunted from behind the curtain.

         “Alex, Turais is here.”

         There was no response as Turais eyed Jonty worriedly.

         “Alex?” Turais called out. There was an audible hitch of breath. However, the curtains remained drawn.

         “I... I should let you speak to him privately...” Jonty said awkwardly. He gave the drawn curtains a final glance and nodded at Turais grimly before leaving the room. Once the door clicked shut behind Turais, he slowly walked towards Alex’s four-poster bed and placed down the wrapped dinner rolls on the bedside table.

         “Alex,” Turais said softly. “I’m going to open the curtains, alright?”

         Gently, he pulled the curtain aside to see the boy was fully concealed beneath the duvet. With a slight tug on the blanket, Turais realized that Alex was tugging onto it tightly as though he was determined to stay hidden.

         “Alex, it’s alright...”

         However, Alex only squirmed away from Turais’s touch and faced the other way.

         “Alex, please talk to me,” Turais murmured as he sat down on the edge of the bed and caused the mattress to dip slightly. “Alex?”

         “I’m so s...sorry, Turais,” Alex breathed, his voice sounding watery. “I almost killed you...”

         “Hush, you silly boy. That was not your fault -”

         Suddenly, Alex threw the blanket at Turais and scrambled off the other side of the bed. Standing up and without looking at Turais, the other boy screamed in a pained voice, “I didn’t stop you from eating the damned treacle tart, Turais!”

         “Alex, listen to me. No one blames you for what happened.”

         Alex looked up and seemed like he was about to refute Turais’s words before the words died in his gaping mouth. His gaze met Turais’s, and he inhaled a sharp breath. There was a sparkle of immeasurable joy and relief in Alex’s eyes as he scanned the other boy’s face in disbelief. Then, the boy ran forward and wrapped his arms around Turais’s waist in a tight embrace.

         “I’m so... so sorry,” Alex sobbed as his entire body shook. “I should’ve known... I should’ve done more -”

         “There was nothing more you could’ve done, Alex,” Turais said patiently while patting Alex’s back rhythmically to calm him down. “In fact, if it were not for you and the bezoar, I would not have survived otherwise. I lived all thanks to you.” 

         Alex shook his head fiercely.

         “It was all you... you had the bezoar... you told me to feed it to you... I didn’t do anything but put the bezoar into your mouth...”

         “Most people are paralyzed in the face of immense fear, but you didn’t,” Turais replied. “Most importantly, I am back and fully recovered now. And I... I’m sorry for all the horrors you have experienced in the past few weeks. I will ensure that all of this will be rectified and that no one will hurt you any longer.”

         Alex nodded wordlessly as Turais felt the arms circling him squeeze even tighter. They stayed like that for a long while until Alex’s sobs finally subsided.

         “But let’s talk about that later. I’m famished, and I’m guessing you are too,” Turais said as he unwrapped the napkin and handed Alex a dinner roll.

         Alex grinned sheepishly as he stared at Turais as if he would disappear at any moment. Whispering silently, he admitted, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

         “Well, me too,” Turais chuckled.

         When they finished the bread, most of the students had returned from their meal. Turais emerged from the dormitory and watched Malfoy stroll in with his signature, inscrutable expression. 

         Turais deliberately walked to the middle of the common room and placed himself directly in Malfoy’s path. Malfoy’s eyes widened at Turais’s action as he paused in his steps and quickly schooled his facial features back to a stony expression. Meanwhile, the entire House hushed in anticipation as the two powerful figureheads of the House met for the first time since Turais’s poisoning.

         Malfoy twisted his lips into a tight, unwilling smile as he extended his hand and greeted, “Black, I am glad to see you well. Our thoughts were with you and your family for all this time.”

         “I’m sure they were,” Turais smiled coldly as he took the hand and shook it briefly. “I hope I didn’t disappoint you then.”

         “Of course not,” Malfoy said through gritted teeth. “Your presence was sorely missed.”

         “Was it?” 

         “Of course.”

         “I have been notified that certain members of this House had suffered from egregious acts of tyranny and violence,” Turais hissed bitingly. “I demand an explanation, Malfoy.”

         Malfoy exuded an air of indifference. However, Turais noted the slight tensing of his jaw muscles that revealed the older boy’s deep frustration and anger at Turais’s challenge.

         “I was aware of some changes in this House, which was only to be expected as we all reeled from your horrifying incident,” Malfoy said smoothly. “Many of us thought it was Ms Stahl who poisoned you, and I’m afraid some of us were too eager to avenge you. But I’m sure that you will forgive them for their… excitement.” 

         Turais’s expression betrayed no surprise as he had already braced himself from the news. However, he was thrumming with anger at the blatant lie that was spewing from Malfoy’s mouth.

         “This display of intense concern for my health will not be forgotten, Malfoy,” Turais gritted out before he turned to announce the entire room. “I would also like to announce to the entire House that I will not hesitate to contact the Aurors for any acts of violence or terrorization to any of our members.”

         Turais returned his intense glare on Malfoy, who scrutinized him with his narrowed gaze. “Malfoy, I am sure you will indulge me. I’m still recovering from the toll of my poisoning, and my tolerance for such behaviour has decreased significantly.”

         “Of course, I understand,” Malfoy said cordially, but not enough to powder over his thinly-veiled loathing. “Then, I extend my well-wishes to your expeditious recovery.”

         With that, Malfoy walked away with a dramatic sweep of his cape.

 

***

 

         Over the next few days, Turais noticed the significant shift in the dynamics of the Slytherin House was genuine and not a fleeting phenomenon. It was as if everyone suddenly had an epiphany overnight and woke up realizing that Turais was someone they should support and protect in no uncertain terms.

         Revealing his observations to his friends, Jonty said uneasily, “I think after experiencing a long month under Malfoy’s absolute rule, people have come to realize how much better life was with you here.”

         “Flint told me privately that many people are on your side, Turais,” Alex said, “And I think that I trust him more now after everything that has happened because he... Healed me secretly... when everyone else abandoned me.”

         Turais watched as Jonty cast a crestfallen glance at Alex before stood up abruptly and muttered, “I... I forgot something... I will...”

         Gesturing behind him vaguely, Jonty walked off hurriedly. Turning to Alex, Turais saw the other boy was staring at his lap with a blank expression on his face.

         “You and Jonty. I couldn’t help but notice that you two... are not around each other a lot. Did something happen between you two?” asked Turais.

         “No...” muttered Alex unconvincingly.

         “Are you... by any chance, angry at him for what happened last month?”

         They sat in a loaded silence until Alex heaved a heavy sigh and admitted, “Maybe... I just... I just don’t know what I feel about him anymore...” 

         “Is it because he did not stand up for you?”

         “I... I... don’t know,” Alex gulped. “I told him to not associate himself with me... but I still... I still feel...”

         “Slighted. Betrayed. Let down,” Turais completed the sentence.

         “I know I shouldn’t, but every time I see him... I just feel... angry. Really angry.” Alex pouted and crossed his arms in frustration before he continued, “But I shouldn’t feel this way in the first place. Jonty was the only person who wanted to be my friend beside you. I feel so... so ungrateful.”

         “Well, let me tell you something,” Turais said. “I was just like you. I was also angry at Jonty when I first heard that he did nothing to prevent Malfoy and his goons from harassing the rest of the House.”

         “Really?” Alex perked up at his revelation.

         “Yes. It is perfectly normal to feel angry in your situation.” Turais nudged Alex gently and said, “Hey, Alex, can I ask you something? Do you feel the same about the others? Rivers, for example?”

         Alex wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

         “And why not?”

         “Because... Because I don’t particularly care what he does or doesn’t do.”

         “So, why do you care about what Jonty does?”

         “Because he’s my friend,” Alex mumbled. “And I thought he would... be better than the rest of them... ”

         “Precisely, Alex,” Turais said softly. “Because you have formed a strong friendship with Jonty, which leads you to place higher expectations on him.”

         “Do you reckon I should lower my expectations then?”

         “I don’t think you should, but I want you to at least be aware of why you are feeling those emotions. Admittedly, I would like to see my two best friends reconcile, and I would also persuade you to do as such, but this choice is yours to make.”

         “How do you do it?”

         “Do what?”

         “Forgive. How do you forgive people so easily?”

         “I just believe everyone is bound to make mistakes, and they deserve to have a chance to prove themselves.”

         “I see,” Alex muttered. “But I... I think I need some time to think about everything.”

         “Of course,” Turais said consolingly. “There is no rush.”

 

***

 

          “My answer is still no, Mr Black,” Mister Williams, the flying coach and Quidditch referee, said firmly.

          “But I feel perfectly fine!” Turais protested. “I am well enough to fly.”

          “Your Healer gave explicit instructions to forbid you from participating in strenuous activities for two months,” Mister Williams pulled out the Healer’s order and waved it in front of Turais’s pinched expression. “You may participate in the final match should your House team qualify. However, under no circumstances will you find yourself in the air for any amount of time before mid-May.” 

          “So, what did he say?” Wilkins asked hopefully as Turais emerged from the office. Turais heaved a dejected sigh as Wilkins’s face fell.

          Turais’s poisoning brought about an unanticipated issue for the Slytherin team. With Turais grounded by Carl Selwyn, his Healer, and Montague arrested for his role in poisoning Turais, Wilkins suddenly found himself in need of a replacement Chaser and Seeker for the upcoming Slytherin-Hufflepuff match that was due to be held immediately after Easter holiday.

          With a single glance at the training schedule, Turais felt an odd sense of relief that he was unable to participate in the training as Wilkins had ordered that the team was to train on every single day until match day.

         Turais’s replacement, Emma Blishwick, had already played on his behalf once while he was unconscious. Therefore, she was prepared to take up the mantle for a second time. However, Richard Harper, the fourth-year and replacement Chaser, had a more difficult time adjusting to the dynamics of the team.

         “I said go LEFT!” Wilkins shouted at the panicked boy. “Why were you half a pitch away from Pyrites?”

         “But you said -” Harper squeaked.

         “One more mistake, and you are off the team!” Wilkins shouted as the boy blanched.

         “Chop chop, Pyrites! Get the Quaffle moving!” Wilkins bellowed, “Pass it to Arkenstone - Yes! There you go! - Now pass it back to Monta-”

         Wilkins faltered mid-sentence as the entire team winced. Wilkins closed his eyes and collected himself before continuing as if nothing had happened.

         “Harper! What are you doing sitting there?! Get ready to receive the pass!” Wilkins shouted. “Pyrites, pass the damn Quaffle! The octogenarian Chasers play faster than you!”

         On the last day of practice before the holidays, Turais deliberately joined the Chaser during clean-up. Wordlessly, he helped keep the volatile Bludger under Harper’s hand as he worked to clip on the restraints. With two pairs of hands, they made quick work of the task.

        “Thank you, Black,” Harper said as he tapped his wand on the combination lock of the equipment room door. The lock scrambled itself as they walked away.

        “No worries,” Turais said with a wave.

        “Oh... uhm... I’m sorry...”

        The note of vulnerability in his voice took him by surprise. Turais turned around to face the boy questioningly.

         Harper shrugged awkwardly as he avoided Turais’s eyes. “I’m sorry that I am here... as a Chaser... I have played terribly all week, and I know you are all just putting up with me...”

         “No, you are playing fine. Wilkins is in a foul mood. It has nothing to do with you,” Turais said comfortingly. “I’ll have a talk with him about his behaviour.”

         “Oh... I see. Well, thank you, Black,” Harper said softly.

         “If you have any questions, you can always find me,” Turais gave him a reassuring smile before he walked off in search of the captain. Quickly, he found that Wilkins was flying around the Pitch by himself. Minutes later, he landed on the ground, and Turais walked up to him.

          “Wilkins,” Turais said as the captain dismounted from his broom.

          “Black, what is it?”

          “I was just wondering if there is something wrong.”

          Wilkins frowned as he grunted, “What do you mean?”

          “I have noticed that you have been unjustifiably harsh on Harper. Is it about something he did, or is it an entirely different matter?” 

          “There’s nothing else,” hissed Wilkins as he trotted off.

          Turais chased after the captain and said, “It is likely not something related to Harper’s performance because he is doing very well for someone who joined the team for less than a week.”

          “I have nothing to say,” Wilkins gritted out without turning around. Turais grabbed Wilkins’s arm and stilled him.

          “This is about Montague, isn’t it -”

          Wilkins suddenly grabbed Turais’s outstretched arm and flung it away. The unexpected motion caused Turais to tumble onto the Pitch ground as he felt a tightening sensation around his mid-section that caused him to gasp involuntarily.

          “Black!” Wilkins asked frantically. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!”

          “It’s... okay...” Turais said as the feeling quickly subsided. “I... I suppose my Healer had a point for not letting me play.”

          “I’m terribly sorry,” Wilkins muttered again, abashed.

          “You really need to rein in that temper of yours,” Turais groaned as Wilkins scowled darkly. Turning serious, he said, “It is about Montague, right?”

          Wilkins sighed as he rubbed his face tiredly, “I... I’ve known Montague for years. I... I just cannot believe he would do such a terrible thing and that I have unknowingly trained beside a murderer for weeks without noticing a thing until he was arrested! And for it to be you, a fellow teammate, as the victim... I... I just don’t know what to say...”

          “This incident is an anomaly... You must move to pass it and not let it affect your trust in others,” implored Turais. “In particular, don’t channel your frustration towards someone else. No one should suffer because of your personal emotional issues.”

          “I... I will try,” Wilkins swallowed heavily. “That’s all I can promise.”

          Turais nodded. “And please give Harper some reassurance during practice. He melds well with Arkenstone and Pyrites and is also very diligent. What he lacks right now is confidence. He doesn’t feel he belongs with the starting team considering he was thrust into this position so close to the match. You must remedy that.”

          Michael looked at Turais for a long while, assessing. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Black. I will take care of that.”

          “Good.”

 

***

 

         Finally, everyone was returning back home for the holidays. Jonty and Alex’s relationship had yet to be mended, so Turais found himself waiting on the platform of Hogsmeade Station with only Alex by his side.

          “Oompf! 

         Turais suddenly found himself sprawling on the hard floor when he felt someone snaking their arms around his chest from behind. Twisting around, he could see Alex’s shocked expression and the mischievous grin on Kaiden’s face.

         “Kaiden! Can you stop tackling me -”

         “You are in so much trouble, Turais!” Kaiden’s cried out in his perpetually joking tone. “How dare you make all those young ladies cry in the common room! I thought multiple Moaning Myrtles have made permanent residence in the Gryffindor Tower.”

         Then Kaiden’s hands wandered around his chest and stomach in search of something. Honestly, Kaiden and James Potter had no sense of personal space or brain-to-mouth filter.

         “Jeez, Kay! Do you Potters have no sense of personal space?” groaned Turais as Kaiden finally removed his offending hands.

         “Why are you so skinny? I mean, you are always on the leaner side, but this is worrying even for you. Have you been eating? Do I need to force-feed you -”

         “Potter! Hands-off and step away at once! -” Evelyn Napier, the Slytherin Prefect, walked up towards them. His tone was clipped and disapproving. “You are a Prefect, for Merlin’s sake. You should know better -”

         “I get it,” Kaiden mumbled as he finally released Turais and fixed his crumpled robes. He placed a hand on Napier’s tense shoulder and patted it. “Napier, breathe a little, won’t you?”

         Evelyn’s nostrils flared as he pushed off the boy’s hand. “Keep your hands to yourself, Potter! You need to learn what personal space is!”

         “What is that? Never heard of it,” Kaiden said with a wink before turning his attention back to Turais. His voice turned serious, “Please take care of yourself, okay?”

         “Okay,” Turais nodded.

         “Good!” Kaiden beamed as he started to walk away. But not a moment later, he returned. “Ah! I almost forgot the reason for seeking you out! Now listen, I wondered if you are interested in coming over to my place over Easter for a couple of days. Natalia and Noel live next door. Michael will be there as well! We can play Quidditch all day long!”

         Turais felt his jaws drop. Was Kaiden offering him to stay with him? 

         “Um… thanks, Kaiden,” Turais stammered, “I… didn’t expect this at all… thank you for the offer... but are you sure? I don’t want to impose on your family -”

         “Nonsense,” Kaiden said dismissively. “My mum was the one who suggested this brilliant idea.”

         “Alex stays at my place over holidays as well. I was wondering if I can bring him along as well -”

         “That’s not a problem, of course,” Kaiden said firmly. “My parents should be fine with that.”

         “Okay, thank you so much for the offer, Kaiden,” Turais said gratefully.

         “Anytime,” Kaiden flashed his brilliant, white teeth before heading off.

Chapter 27: An Easter with the Potters (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

AN EASTER WITH THE POTTERS


 

April 3, 1971 (Saturday)

 

UTWATS PASSES WIZENGAMOT!

by R. A. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

38 Lords Boycott Votes as Chief Warlock Casts Non-Tiebreaking Vote for First Time in Centuries

 

The Undermining Terrorism With Aurors’ Expansion Tri-Statutes (commonly known as UTWATS) was passed late yesterday evening as 38 Lords staged a walk-out during the final vote.

In the latest of a series of unprecedented interventions, Chief Warlock Hector Fawley has finally broken the last, and arguably the most important, of Wizengamot constitutional traditions by voting in favour of Lord Arkenstone’s proposed bill, bringing the final vote to a 39-38 vote in favour of passage. The forced tie-breaker was required due to the Honourable Mr Harold Minchum’s vote to abstain.

The Chief Warlock Flamel’s rule, established during Nathaniel Flamel’s tenure at the post from 1577 to 1697, outlined the conventions of how Chief Warlocks decided their casting votes in the event of a tie. Primarily, they should always vote in favour of continuing debate and, most importantly, vote to maintain the status quo. 

Lord Abraxas Malfoy had expressed great outrage against Hector Fawley’s actions as he exited the chamber immediately after the vote: “[Hector Fawley] has singularly destroyed centuries of Wizengamot tradition in the past two weeks. His crimes against this body symbolize an utter disregard and disparaging of the very fabric of our society and existence. This is a declaration of war against the oldest political institution in the world and against the entire Wizarding world, and he should not be surprised to find himself in the midst of one very soon.”

 

***

 

         “The Potters invited you to their home for Easter?” Orion asked in surprise when Turais revealed it on his first day back from Hogwarts.

         “Yes, father -”

         “Unsolicited? And without prompting?”

         “Yes. I was taken by surprise as well,” Turais admitted.

         “You aren’t particularly close with that Potter boy?”

         “No, but according to him, it was his mother who extended the offer.”

         “His mother?” Orion breathed out as his eyes focused on a distant point as if he recalled a long-lost memory. Then, they quickly focused onto Turais once more and muttered, “Well, if you insist on going, I suppose you can...”

         Turais took that as permission and immediately seized a piece of parchment and quill to write Kaiden and agree on a date.

         In the blink of an eye, the day of the visit had arrived.

         Turais thrummed with excitement as he, Alex, and Orion were sitting around the couches at the Three Broomsticks with their fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of Butterbeer each. It was already April, but nature was reluctant to loosen its tight wintry grip over its constituents. The gentle curls of toasty warmth emanated from the fireplace when the flames suddenly sparked green and erupted into a large column of a fiery blaze.

         Orion started as he immediately whipped around hastily to find an old, hunched man emerging from the flames. He turned back to his drink and found some of the warm, foamy liquid from his mug trailing his hand and dripping onto the floor.

         Orion vanished the spill with a wave of his wand.

         “What is it, father?” Turais asked when Alex went off to use the toilet.

         “Huh?” Orion grunted as he tore his gaze away from the pub back to Turais. “What do you mean?”

         “You seem distracted.”

         “I... I suppose I am...” Orion said as he lifted the mug to his lips.

         “Is this about great-aunt Dorea?”

         Orion snapped his gaze upwards, and Turais found his answer. Seeing there was no point in concealing the truth further, Orion admitted, “I... yes, it is.”

         “Were the two of you close?”

         “We were,” Orion said softly. “An unlikely pair as well, given that she was nine years my senior. We never even studied at Hogwarts together, but somehow, we formed a bond against all odds...”

         “Why didn’t you two have a chat during the Quidditch World Cup final?”

         “It didn’t seem like the right time and place,” Then, Orion sighed heavily before continuing, “And we have not kept in touch for more than thirty years ago. Many things could have changed, including her perception of me...”

         “But you will never know until you reach out.”

         Orion fell into a thoughtful silence, but Alex’s return from the toilet cut their conversation short as the father and son moved on to a different topic. A few minutes later, the fireplace flashed green, and the Blacks turned their attention to the two figures that walked out in rapid succession.

         “Turais! Alex!” Kaiden shouted as he recognized them from afar. Running ahead of his father, he searched around and honed his gaze on Turais’s broomstick. “Excellent, you remembered to bring your Nimbus! Where’s your broom, Alex?”

         “I don’t have one.”

         “No worries, we have plenty of spare brooms in the shed!” Kaiden said breezily.

         “Hello, Master Black,” Charlus greeted. Eyeing the empty pints, he said, “I hope I did not mistake the time.”

         “No, you haven’t, Mr Potter,” Orion replied. “My son wished to enjoy a mug of Butterbeer, so we arrived early.”

         “Well, the Three Broomsticks does serve the best Butterbeer,” Charlus smiled warmly. Clapping his hands together, he said, “So, if everyone is ready, let’s Floo.”

         After Floo-ing from Hogsmeade to the closest public Floo in Wooler, Charlus and Kaiden guided the Black family on a twenty-minute walk towards their final destination.

         “And here we are - the Potter House,” Charlus announced.

         The Potter House was a quaint, thatched cottage that sat at the edge of the village of Earle. The village was composed of a handful of sparsely located cottages and a small civil parish in the centre. It was so small that there were no stores in Earle, and they all shopped in the larger town of Wooler just a half an hour walk away. As a result, it was also the perfect location for wizarding families to live while avoiding prying Muggles. The Arkenstones, as Charlus pointed out, lived just beyond the river that marked the northern boundary of the Potter grounds.

         During the walk, Charlus had described his House in detail. It overlooked a three-acre plot of land lined with trees and tall hedges around its parameter. The Potters had sectioned a small corner as Dorea’s herb and vegetable garden while repurposing the rest as a full-fledged Quidditch pitch. Of course, multiple wards and strong Muggle-repelling Charms were cast to prevent stray glances from nosy neighbours.

         Turais noticed two cars parked at the front of the house when the front door opened. Dorea appeared through the doorway, and she stilled momentarily at the sight of Orion. Next to Turais, a faint hitch of breath escaped Orion’s lips as well.

         However, Dorea quickly recovered and started to walk down the stairs.

         “Welcome to Potter House, Turais and Alexander,” Dorea smiled warmly as he gave both of them a quick hug. Then, she approached Orion cautiously. “Orion.”

         “Dorea,” Orion breathed out.

         “It’s been quite some time since we last met. How have you been?”

         “I have been well. And you?”

         “So have I.” There was a tension-filled pause as everyone eyed the two estranged Black cousins nervously. Then, Dorea broke out of her stupor and gestured at the door, “Well, shall we?”

         As they entered the House, Dorea said, “I will just have to remind everyone that all magic is strictly forbidden in this household.” 

         “Except in the study,” Kaiden chimed in. “However, it’s my father’s office, so you wouldn’t step foot in there anyways.”

         “Of course,” Turais responded politely.

         “Well, Turais, Alex. Let me show you around!” Kaiden said ecstatically as he gripped Turais’s hand.

         Turais looked back at Orion, who gave him a nod before allowing himself to be guided down the nearby hallway.

         “Where are we headed?” Turais asked, amused.

         “A quick stop at the shed to get Alex his broom, and after, the Pitch, of course! I want a turn on your Nimbus before the sun sets today!”

         “Sorry, but I cannot join the match. I am grounded for two months,” Turais grimaced. “Healer’s order.”

         “What?!” Kaiden groaned. “That’s bullocks.”

         “Well, you can still borrow my Nimbus,” Turais said. “Why didn’t you just ask to borrow it at school? I would’ve lent it to you anytime.”

         Kaiden gave him a doubtful look. “You really think I would dare to ask Michael’s beloved seeker for a turn on his broom without his presence. He will have my head if he ever found out, thinking that I was trying to jinx it or something else as crazy.”

         The boys exited through the kitchen and the back of the house onto a large garden. They walked through the tomato patches as Turais noticed the characteristic large holes in the soil that indicated the presence of pesky garden gnomes. They arrived in front of the wooden shed, and Kaiden gave the rusty door handle a hard yank as the door creaked open noisily.

         Kaiden flicked the switch as the amber glow of the incandescent light flickered on.

         “So... does your father play? Huh?” Kaiden asked off-handedly. Then, he noticed Turais staring at the light switch and then at the light above in awe.

         “Oh - this is electricity! I bet you haven’t seen this before!” Kaiden said excitedly as he moved back to the switch panel. Turning the dial, the light dimmed and brightened on command. “Isn’t this marvellous?! Muggles have the best inventions.”

         Turais had been so removed from Muggle technologies for so long that he scarcely batted an eye when they were no longer around him. But now, this simple light fixture had once again captured his rapt attention.

         Kaiden continued his search through the broom collection as he said, “We have to hand it to the Muggles for inventing air conditioning. A god-send during summer! Especially when I cannot cast my own Cooling Charms. That’s why my mum is so strict about wands. Magic and Muggle technologies don’t mix.”

         “I just cannot believe your family knows so much about Muggle technologies,” Turais said.

         “Fleamont, Euphemia, and James don’t. Resistant to change, that’s what my dad calls them. Dad fancies himself as an ‘enlightened’ wizard. It is probably because of all the time he had spent guarding the Muggle Prime Ministers back when he first started as a junior Auror. Learnt loads about Muggle culture during those wild years. Said he drove his parents mad when he first electrified - is that the word? - this place.”

         Turais nodded as he returned his attention to the half dozen racebrooms that were only one or two product cycles older than the newest offerings on the market.

         “No wonder your parents were adamant not to buy you a new broom,” Turais commented wryly. “These are perfectly decent brooms that can be used by an entire Quidditch team.”

         “Yeah, but they are not a Nimbus 1700! ” Kaiden protested as he lifted a broom, examined it, and thrust it at Alex.

         Turais rolled his eyes at Kaiden’s words, but he understood the sentiment well. New broomsticks were always exciting.

         “So, you didn’t answer my question yet. Does your father play, Turais?”

         “He does...” Turais said cautiously. “But I’m not sure if he is up for it today.”

         “Why not? It’s Quidditch!” Kaiden said dismissively.

         Turais glanced at Alex, but the other boy could only offer a helpless shrug. Gryffindors were really oblivious, and Turais wondered if he was this horrible with subtle social cues before as Harry Potter.

         When they returned to the kitchen, Turais noticed that all the adults were now gathered around the table alongside one windswept Wilkins with his school trunk and Quidditch gears in tow. In the background, a retro-styled modern television perched atop the far counter was playing a re-run of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Turais noticed that Orion was silently eyeing the flashing screen with equal parts of awe and trepidation.

         “Michael!” Kaiden shouted happily as he dropped all the brooms and gave the captain a tight hug. Although the Slytherin team captain had much broader and more muscular shoulders and chest, his height only reached his Gryffindor counterpart’s nose. Therefore, Wilkins’s face was uncomfortably squished at Kaiden’s shoulder while his brown eyes peeked just above it.

         “Kaiden, you can at least let me put down my stuff,” Wilkins’s muffled voice gritted out, but he didn’t push Kaiden away. Wilkins looked past his friend’s shoulder and saw Turais and Alex standing beside their chairs. Nudging Kaiden to release him, he stepped back from the embrace and acknowledged the two fellow Slytherins in the room with a slight nod. “Black. Fawley. Nice to see you.”

         “Wilkins, nice to meet you too,” Turais and Alex said with a terse nod each.

         Their presence was no surprise to Wilkins. Likewise, Wilkins’s arrival at the Potter House was widely anticipated, mostly on Kaiden’s part. According to Kaiden, Wilkins’s family flat-out stated that Wilkins must stay with his family until the end of Easter Monday. Clearly, the Wilkinses were more religious than the Potters, as the Potters did not observe the holiday.

         “Now, boys. It’s the holidays, and you’re in our home, so it is our rules,” Dorea scolded mildly, “During your stay, you have to call each other by first names - no exceptions.”

         Wilkins blinked owlishly and turned to Dorea as he was about to protest. But under her stern gaze, he relented and turned back to the duo as he grunted out roughly, “Call me Michael. Hearing Carmichael makes me think I’m in trouble with my parents.”

         Kaiden beamed as he thumped Wilkins, now Michael, hard on his back. His other hand was inching towards Wilkins’s... Michael’s... Beater’s bat.

         “There you go, Michael. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” The Slytherin opened his mouth and was about to protest as Kaiden said, “Don’t answer. It’s rhetorical.”

         Then, Michael suddenly found himself engaged in a silent tug-of-war with Kaiden as the Gryffindor tried to loosen Michael’s grip on the bat.

         “Ah-hah! ” Kaiden declared happily as he seized the object by physically prying Michael’s fingers one-by-one from the handle.

         “Kaiden, I got this,” Michael muttered as he darted glances between the amused adults and children while Kaiden looked victorious. 

         “I know, I just wanted to help,” Kaiden smiled and showed off his brilliantly white teeth. His smile was always so infectious, and Turais couldn’t help but quirk his lips upwards. Michael also sighed in exasperation and… a worn-out amusement as he eyed the boy. “And you’re too slow. It’s Quidditch time! Alex, dad. Grab your brooms! We’re heading to the backyard right after I put this in our room.”

         “Hold your horses, young man,” Dorea said as she held out her arm and blocked his way. “You promised to de-gnome this week -”

         “But this week isn’t even over yet!” Kaiden dropped his broom as he covered his ears in denial.

         “Kaiden! Chores first, then Quidditch!” Dorea said as she confiscated the brooms lying on the floor and narrowed her eyes at her son’s childish display.

         “Muuum!” Kaiden moaned. “Why are there always chores waiting for me when I want to play Quidditch?! James never needed to de-gnome the garden!”

         “What was that?” Dorea asked sharply.

         “I was just saying how James never needs to do any chores,” Kaiden complained. “Muuum, this is so unfair.”

         “Well, if you want fairness, I can take away your brooms, so neither you nor James have one,” Dorea said with her hands on her hips. “How about that?”

         “Kaiden, just do it. It’ll take an hour at most. And it builds character,” Charlus said.

         “Honey, you should help them as well,” Dorea said airily. “I fear that Kaiden will make a mess of de-gnoming.”

         “First, you insult my memory, then, you insult my capability,” Kaiden muttered as Turais found the entire situation slightly odd. A glance between Dorea and Orion confirmed his suspicion.

         Dorea wanted to have a private chat with Orion.

         “I’ll see you after the holidays, Turais,” Kaiden moaned dramatically before he gripped Michael’s hand and dragged the Slytherin captain out after him, “Michael, let’s go.”

        “Alex and I will come with you,” Turais said quickly as he placed his broom by the doorway. “Between us, we’ll be finished in no time.”

        “That is so kind of you to offer, Turais,” Dorea said with a hint of relief. Turais flashed her and Orion an encouraging nod.

         As the five males entered the garden, Kaiden looked at Turais skeptically and said, “I guess an extra pair of hands is better than nothing... actually, that’s only true if you’re not James. But anyhow, do you even know what a gnome looks like?”

         “Trust me, Kaiden,” Turais said as he immediately spotted the tell-tale trails of overturned dirt beside the lawnmower and near the mulberry bushes.

        “They tend to infest the bushes. You can spot the upturned soil - oi! - where are you going, Turais?!” Kaiden called out as he ran after the second-year.

         Turais stuck his head into the bush and saw the entrance to one of the gnome-holes. Suddenly, an unseemly creature popped out from the depression and surveyed around it. It walked out to investigate the border between Turais’s shadow and the sunlight. Suspicious of the strange phenomenon, it scratched its tiny head. However, it did not have the sense to peer upwards towards the source of the shadow. Turais immediately seized the gnome’s leg and dangled it upside-down. He re-emerged from the bush as the gnome screamed and shouted. But it quickly fell silent after Turais swung it around several times. Then, Turais threw it far over the hedges.

        “So you do know how to de-gnome a garden! Blimey, that gnome must’ve landed thirty feet out, at least,” Kaiden gasped incredulously. He turned towards Turais with admiration in his eyes.

        “Of course. Who do you take me for?” Turais scoffed as he searched for another gnome. This time, he didn’t even need to enter the bush as the other gnomes started marching out beneath the bushes to investigate the calls of distress.

        “Well...” Kaiden grabbed a gnome and flung it far away similarly.“I thought you’d never seen a day of work. I can’t fathom someone like you out here de-gnoming.”

        “I’ll take it as a compliment, then,” Turais said as the gnomes continued to walk towards them, clearly attracted by the commotion.

         “You’re better than James. That’s for sure,” Kaiden grunted before they turned their full attention to the small army of creatures. “He doesn’t know anything about chores, seeing he has an army of house-elves. The last time he was here, he called it a day after he picked up his first gnome, and it bit him. Mum didn’t even scold that little brat who left me with all the de-gnoming.”

         They split up into three groups to tackle different sections of the garden.

         “So, what are we doing?” Alex asked quietly as he eyed the tiny army of creatures in confusion.

         “You simply seize them by the leg, swing them around, and then throw them as far as possible,” Turais explained.

         “Why do we need to swing them around?”

         “So they get dizzy and cannot find their way back here.”

         Alex gave Turais a blank stare, which prompted an amused chuckle from the other boy. “You’re messing with me.”

         Turais shook his head and tried to say with a straight face, “I’m perfectly serious. They are stupid creatures.”

         With five pairs of hands, the garden was soon void of gnomes while they walked away without a single bitten finger.

         When they returned to the house, Orion and Dorea had already disappeared somewhere.

         “Where’s your father, Turais?” Kaiden asked as he looked around. 

         “I’ll find him,” Turais immediately said as he marched into the hallway. “You can start first.” 

         Turais quickly found Dorea and Orion sitting by the fireplace in the corner of the sitting room. Curious, Turais decided to eavesdrop on their conversation.

         “-you were right to run away from the family, Dorea. You do not belong in the Black family,” Orion said softly. “You always thought that we were the same type of people - the two black sheep of the family - but that’s not remotely true. You’re the black sheep. I’m just a Black through and through. I have the same wicked, twisted soul like everyone else in the family.”

         “Orion...”

         “You know I used to despise you for eloping with Charlus and leaving me behind. I thought I hated you because you were able to run away from everything and start a new life. I thought I hated you because you don’t have the same responsibility and familial expectations heaped onto your shoulders. And I... I thought I hated you because you could leave while I couldn’t.”

         “Orion...”

         “I did. I thought I hated being the Black heir. But in reality, it was me that I hated most.”

         “Orion, dear, please -”

         “Dorea, please let me get this off my chest. For all these years before Turais was born, I kept telling myself that I remained in the house for a noble cause. As the only male descendant in my line, I cannot let the title be passed onto Pollux’s line, and I was saving the world from his extreme views. But when Turais was born, I was finally confronted by the fact that I was completely expendable and worthless. And I finally accepted that I remained because I was clinging on to my title and that I was nothing without it...”

         “Orion, you don’t mean that -”

         “I do, Dorea. And I am ashamed of it. The night Walburga and I separated was the night of the Malfoy Ball when Turais revealed he was a Parselmouth. I still don’t know if he discovered it by accident or planned for the reveal deliberately, but something he said has haunted me ever since.”

         “What did he say?”

         “He said he had leverage. And if we did not yield to his demands, he would leave the House of Black.”

         “But... Turais was only... eleven? How could he have managed such thoughts?”

         “Ten. Turais was only ten. And I don’t know. He has always been more mature than his age. But regardless, I was shaken by what he said. He was right. He never needed the title. He was magically gifted. His Parseltongue ability would earn him plenty of betrothals even if he were a disowned Black heir as pureblood families hope they can incorporate his Parseltongue ability and magic into their family. If not for that, look at his accomplishments with the Wolfsbane Potion. He proved he could make a name for himself without any support from his family. Turais could leave the family any time he wanted, and he would still flourish, and I know he has the courage to do so. I could see it in his eyes. Heck, I could tell that even Sirius would leave the family if he wanted to. But for me? I had nowhere else to go, and I would never have the courage to leave the family because I was, and I still am, a coward.”

         “Orion... you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself...”

         “Merlin,” Orion chuckled deprecatingly. “Can you imagine being jealous of your child because of the mere fact that he had the damn courage to leave his family behind when you didn’t? I am such a terrible human being - let alone, father - and I did not want to acknowledge how ugly and twisted my soul was. But deep down, I knew it all the same. Shame, that’s the word that would describe my entire life succinctly. Shame... what a failure I am...”

        “I think that just proves you are more compassionate and loving than the rest of the family combined -” Dorea said softly.

         Orion sighed, “You don’t have to comfort me.”

         “You have always been a brooding grouch,” Dorea chuckled.

         “Well, you did use to call me Grumpapotomus?”

         There was a stilled silence before Dorea blurted out a burst of choked laughter. “You still remember that nickname?”

         “Of course I do,” Orion said softly.

         “But to your previous question, no... I refuse to believe a person with such immense darkness like what you have just described would be able to raise three wonderful and sweet children.”

         Orion sighed heavily.

         “They never needed my guidance, Dorea. Especially Turais, he has always been extremely bright and content with everything in life.”

         “Everyone has their own battles against darkness, Orion,” Dorea said. “Perhaps we have more precisely because we grew up in such a toxic, hostile environment, but everyone has it all the same.”

         “Dorea, you don’t have to comfort -”

         “Listen, Orion. I need to make you understand that I’m not as different from you as you think. Yes, I eloped with Charlus because I loved him and wanted to leave the family. But I weaponized his ultimate act of love to spite my own family. Orion, I am just like you. I hated everything about the Black family. I hated Pollux and Cassiopeia for their blood purity fanaticism. I hated my parents for disowning Marius and casting him out of the house. Did you know what they did to him? They kicked him out of the house without a thread of fabric on his back during a blizzard. He was only eight, Orion! Eight! And for hours, I pleaded for mercy just as I heard my brother’s cry and grew fainter and fainter. You speak of being despicable because of your jealousy. I will tell you what a truly despicable act is - throwing out your son of eight years, naked in the middle of winter, just because he cannot cast a damn spell.”

         “I’m... I’m so sorry for what you have experienced,” Orion sounded horrified. “I didn’t imagine how terrible your family was... you always seemed so positive and...”

         “You didn’t know, Orion, and I didn’t want you to know. I know that my family never spoke about him, and you have never met him,” Dorea said. “But my point is that at the age of seven, I have already lost all innocence and love for my family. And so, when Charlus proposed, I readily agreed so I could finally get rid of my family name. And guess what I did?

         “When he proposed, my parents had contracted the Dragon Pox just a few months prior. The Healers said they would succumb to it due to their old age. So, I held off the announcement until my parents were lying on their death beds. I deliberately steered my two filial, repugnant, abhorrent siblings away and waited until they were laboriously sucking in their final breaths. Then, I told them with glee and pride that I would marry a blood-traitor, and they could neither stop me nor disown me. And I relished in seeing their stunned and betrayed expression as they breathed for the final time. That was my ultimate revenge on my own parents. How petty and vengeful would that make me?”

         “Dorea...”

         “Orion, I didn’t tell you this story so we can wallow in sadness, regret, and guilt together. We are both Blacks, and we both had complicated childhoods. Our family has been built upon lies. It is no surprise we grew up twisted, vengeful, and tainted with darkness. But that does not mean it has to be this way for our young. I think you have done an admirable job from rooting out the darkness in your sons,” Dorea said. “When I met your three children during the Quidditch World Cup last year - wait, are you aware of this?”

         “I am,” Orion said, finally with a bit of levity. “They thought I would leave them to their own devices at the largest sporting event in the world without supervision. How innocent children are...”

         “Keep it that way, Orion,” Turais could hear the smile in her voice. “I was thrilled that they were carefree, happy, and innocent as normal children should be. Well - Turais was a bit too anxious, Sirius was a bit too excited, and Regulus was a bit too stoic -”

         “Hey, those are my kids you are talking about,” Orion snapped with a hint of playfulness.

         “Alright then, Mr Grumpapotomus. But it was then that I knew there was hope for the future of our House. You may think you were everything that you have just described to me, but you were able to contain all of the darkness within you and away from your children. That is the most important thing you can do in your position. And that is what I strive to do for Kaiden as well.”

         “I will have to ponder on this... but thank you, Dorea. It is nice to be able to talk to you again. I’ve missed having someone whom I can confide in.”

         “Thank you as well, Orion. Even though I have accepted - for many years - that I will never reconnect with my family again, there is always a small part of me that wishes things are different. I’m glad my wish came true.”

         “Turais was right. I suppose...” Orion said. “You never know until you try and reach out.”

         Turais melted back into the shadows as his mind processed all the revelation. Then, he wondered whether he had just changed the course of history between the two families in a significant way.

Chapter 28: A Stroll through Belford (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A STROLL THROUGH BELFORD


 

April 5, 1971 (Monday)

 

BACKLASH AGAINST WIZENGAMOT CONTINUES

by R. A. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

Rogue Lords that Crossed Party Lines Speaks Out

 

After the shocking vote late Friday that saw UTWATS becoming the law of the land, one must return to the question regarding how became such a close vote in the first place. The short answer is: breakaway votes.

Lords Prince and Potter were part of six members from the Light alliance that voted against the bill. On the other hand, five members of the Dark alliance bulked their group and voted in favour of the bill. Furthermore, the Honourable Mr Harold Minchum, in a surprising twist, voted to abstain.

"I do not believe that a bill should be passed without the support of the majority of Lords, especially when it was due to the unwanted intervention from our Chief Warlock," Lord Potter spoke as he was leaving the chamber. "As an institutionalist, precedents and standing procedures forms the basis of our rule of law and unspoken decorum on how our government should represent its people. This was a serious undermining of this truth and is nothing but disgraceful. I would like to apologize to all British witches and wizards on behalf of the entire Wizengamot. We have failed you."

 

***

 

         “So you didn’t manage to find your father?” Kaiden asked as he saw Turais walk out to the Pitch alone.

         “I found him, but he said he might join next time,” Turais lied smoothly. The others accepted Turais’s words readily as they flew off to start playing Chaser’s match. The four players paired off in different combinations, but Turais was particularly surprised by the two Potters and the two Slytherins were quite evenly-matched considering that Michael played mainly as a Beater and Alex had barely touched a Quaffle before today.

         “You played spectacularly, Alex, considering that you prefer to stick to the ground,” Charlus thumped his hand on Alex’s back. “You should consider trying out for the House team. Isn’t that right, Michael?”

         “Yeah, Alex,” Michael grunted in agreement. “None too shabby.”

         “Thanks,” Alex muttered quietly as his ears turned red in embarrassment.

         “That’s a ringing endorsement from Wilkins if I’ve heard one,” A sweaty, windswept Kaiden shouted as he plastered himself to Michael. “You did amazing, Michael! You almost won the match-up. I can definitely see your raw talent and limitless potential as a Chaser - argh -hahahaha! Stop it! 

         Michael, trying to get the Gryffindor off of him, resorted to tickling the boy. Kaiden immediately sprung off and out of reach as Michael cleared his throat and rearranged his robes. “Well, I can recognize your pathetic attempts to convert me into a Chaser, so you don’t have to deal with Cornfoot and me as Beaters.”

         “You know, we Chasers have an emotional support group because your pair commits extreme Beaters brutality.”

         “Kaiden, you are aware that we are called Beaters for a reason, right?” Michael said as he pushed Kaiden off from another attempt at a hug.

         Kaiden pouted at the rejection but turned to scruff Turais around his neck. Turais stumbled momentarily from the sudden increase in weight.

         “Turais is officially my new favourite person,” Kaiden said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “See, Michael. He lets me show my affection properly -”

         The back door suddenly swung open and slammed on the wall with a bang.

         “Charlus! Kaiden! You’ve been out there for three hours!” Dorea stomped down the creaky wooden stairs and yelled with her hands on her hips reminiscent of Molly Weasley. “The food in the kitchen has not been touched! Did you not even let Michael grab a bite or a nap this entire time?! You do remember about his right arm -”

         “My arm feels fine, Dorea,” Michael said softly as he scratched his head sheepishly. Turais didn’t even know Michael could look sheepish. “I wasn’t hungry  -”

         A loud growl sounded from his stomach and undermined his entire defense as Dorea just glared at the two Potters, who averted their gazes from the righteous eyes of their matriarch. Dorea whipped out her wand and Summoned the broomstick out of Kaiden’s hand and gathered it in her arm. “I’m locking up your broom, Kaiden Charlus Potter! You need to learn how to treat Michael better! He deserves better than to constantly put up with your appalling behaviour.”

         “It’s alright, Dorea -” Michael managed to say before Dorea’s glare silenced him.

         “Michael, come now! You must have some tea and biscuits,” Dorea said, still glaring at the sulking, broom-less Kaiden. “Kaiden, back to your room!”

         “Mum!”

         “End of discussion! You’re grounded!” she shouted, already heading back up the wooden staircase. “And Charlus, honey, you should know better as an adult!

         Turais entered the room to find Orion sipping on a cup of tea, looking more at ease than before. Then, there was a clear ring of a telephone from the hallway as Dorea walked out to answer. A few moments later, Dorea hurried back and said, “Oh, Charlus. Desmond just called and said he is in the area and wondered if you would like to get a bite at Holly and Feather.”

         “Oh, why not?” Charlus said as he set his broom against the wall. “Tell him I’ll arrive there in half an hour. I can also buy some of that sausage roll that you like for everyone to try.”

         Dorea smiled fondly at her husband and said, “That sounds wonderful, dear.” Then, she disappeared into the hallway once more.

         “Can we come with you?” Kaiden said. He raised his hand and grabbed Michael’s hand to raise his as well. “Mum never lets me go alone.”

         “And for good reason,” Michael said blandly, to which Kaiden scowled in return.

         “Can Alex and I go with them as well?” Turais asked Orion. The thought of strolling through a Muggle village also sounded like a friendly reprieve from the Wizarding world, considering that he did not have much of a chance to do so as Turais Black.

         Orion’s good-natured smile turned into a worried frown.

         “Turais will be well-protected, Mr Black,” Kaiden said confidently as he swung an arm around Turais. “Besides, my father will be with us. He’s the Deputy Head Auror!”

         “Belford is a safe village,” Charlus replied calmly. “You can come along as well if you want.”

         That proposition seemed to frighten Orion more as he said, “I am perfectly fine staying here. Turais, just be careful.”

         “Yes, father!” Turais said excitedly as he grinned up at Kaiden.

 

***

 

         Inside the warm and humid bakery filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, Turais eyed the streets of Belford through the window panes. Despite having a population of at least a hundred times that of Earle, it was still a quiet, sleepy countryside village. Only a few pedestrians were strolling casually down the wide stone sidewalks, likely towards one of three café terraces around the village center for their afternoon cup of tea or joe. In the main crossroad, three children were playing ball and only scattering when the occasional car passed through.

         Turais glanced at his companions, who were finally finished deciding, and started to place their goods onto the tray at the counter. To their merit, these Potters were competent with dressing up the children as inconspicuous upper-middle-class Muggles visiting the countryside from London.

         Kaiden was wearing a red-checkered pull-over with a collar that was neatly tucked into his smartly-creased double knee denim. Michael sported a similar style but wore a buttoned-up blue cotton polo shirt with black dress slacks. Alex wore a cashmere navy blue trench coat over a dress shirt with brown-checkered trousers that looked trendy and perfectly Muggle.

         After their purchase, which Turais deftly handled for his clueless friends, he scanned the streets outside for potential threats. Suddenly, Turais caught a dark shadow lurking at a street corner a block away from the square. But in the blink of an eye, it disappeared.

         Turais wondered if he had just imagined it.

         Charlus was currently at Holly and Feather, a café just down the street, as the four children browsed around.

         “Mmmm… this does taste like magic,” Turais gasped as he took his first bite into the warm, crispy pastry. The juicy and salty sausage burst into intense flavours on his palette, and he immediately wolfed down the entire roll in a blink of an eye and turned to look at the bakery case. However, the case was void of sausage rolls as they already bought the last dozen of them. The husband and co-owner of the bakery had apparently heard the exclamation and gave the satiated child a winning smile behind the counter. He then shouted to the back of the shop, “Hinny, gi’z mair sausage rolls!” 

         “Aye.” 

         His wife appeared from behind the doorway with a hot, steamy tray of freshly-baked sausage rolls and placed it on the counter. The man muttered something in her ear and she smiled kindly at Turais before nodding and disappearing to the back of the shop. John then placed a few sausage rolls in a paper bag, held it down over the counter, and motioned Turais to take it.

         “Just for you, pet. Don’t eat all of it before you get hyem,” the man gave Turais a wink as he took the bag gratefully.

         “Thank you so much,” Turais whispered back before he gave him a last wave and headed out of the bakery. The quartet started to make their way back to the restaurant where they would be travelling back to Wooler using their public Floo.

         “Woah, did he just give you free sausage rolls?” Kaiden peeked into the bag while shifting his bagful of baguettes and sourdoughs; he then nudged Turais hard. “Wicked!”

         “Only works with an angelic, innocent face like Turais’s,” Michael commented with a smirk.

         “Hey! I have an angelic face -” Kaiden complained as he realized that he had just yelled into a quiet street of bewildered passers-by. He faltered, but his bruised ego prompted him to slap viciously on the back of the offending Slytherin.

         “Maybe in your next lifetime, Kaiden,” Alex hummed in agreement.

         “Why did I have to torture myself with being in the company of three Slytherins?!” Kaiden groaned. “Especially when this is my first time shopping in a Muggle part of town without my parents -”

         Michael hit Kaiden on the back. “Can you stop saying that word?” he hissed.

         “What word?” Kaiden asked, “Ohhh... you mean ‘Muggle’?”

         Michael hit him again.

         “Oooww. Fine. Fine. Fine. I’ll stop saying ‘Muggle’ -” Kaiden paused as Michael hit him for the third time. “I said ‘Muggle’ again -” Kaiden started laughing uncontrollably and stopped in the middle of the pavement as Michael glared at the boy furiously.

         “Way to not draw attention, Kaiden,” Michael hissed as Kaiden gasped for air.

         “I’m... I’m... so sorry, Michael,” Kaiden managed to say. “Promise. Pinky promise -”

         But then, Kaiden gasped in a child-like joy as he pointed at a shop across the street in excitement.

         “Oooo… can we check out that shop?” Kaiden asked as he immediately walked off the pavement without care. He darted across the street recklessly just as a police car roared down the street with blaring sirens.

         The car screeched to a halt as the officer honked angrily. Kaiden merely looked at the car with an endless fascination and stood still idiotically. The three Slytherins had to drag the brainless gnome of a Gryffindor off the road as the furious officer pressed a final warning before driving off to the distance.

         “What in Merlin’s name was that?” Kaiden asked with wide eyes as Michael checked Kaiden’s clothing for any sign of injury. “The big blinking light on the top and the loud whirring noise!”

         “Why do all Potter boys need to act half their age?!” Turais heard Michael mutter under his breath angrily after he was satisfied with his inspection.

         “It’s called a police car, Kay,” Turais said in admonishment. “The light is a blinker, or emergency light, to warn people like you to get out of its way. The sound is the siren to, again, warn people like you to get out of its way.”

         “Don’t use that tone on me, young man,” Kaiden huffed. “I know what a car is. You saw my dad’s cars out front. Completely unmodified and completely Muggl- ouch! - excuse you, Michael. Anyways, I’ve just never seen ones with those flashy additions.“

         Turais was about to tease him more, but then he noticed a constant vibration on his side. He turned and found Alex clinging onto his shirt with the tip of his fingers. His entire body was shaking as though he was just dunked into an icy lake and recovered. Beads of sweat were forming near his temple and forehead. His eyes were looking down at the ground, but Turais could see them darting everywhere frantically. 

         “Alex, what’s wrong?” Turais asked as he grabbed Alex’s trembling hands to still them. Meanwhile, Kaiden started to rummage his clothes. “Alex. Talk to me, please.”

         Alex looked as though he was about to throw up.

         “It’s... I’ll be fine in a few moments,” Alex said shakily. He swallowed a few times heavily before closing his eyes and shaking his head in disagreement. “I just... I... don’t... like cars.”

         After a tension-filled silence where only Alex’s laboured breath was heard, Kaiden spoke again, sounding apologetic, “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”

         “You are,” Alex said, with a clear attempt at a teasing tone. But it was undermined by the slightly pained expression. He finally looked up at his three companions, “I’m fine. Really. Don’t mind me.”

         “Are you sure?” Turais asked as Alex nodded violently.

         “I’m sure, Turais. Let’s head back,” Alex said firmly as he started to walk forward, stumbling just a little on his first step. When he realized that no one was following him, he turned back and snapped uncharacteristically, “I’m not going to break just because of a stupid near-miss with a car!”

         The three boys shared an unconvinced glance.

         “Okay, fine,” Kaiden finally acquiesced. “Just let us know if -”

         “I get it! I’ll tell you if anything is wrong,” Alex flushed. “Can we just... stop talking about it?”

         “Of course -” Turais said as Kaiden suddenly gasped.

         “Ooooh! Check out this thing here!” Kaiden gushed as he grabbed Michael’s hand and disappeared into the shop. Turais and Alex shared a bewildered look. One could always trust Kaiden to defuse a tense situation with some completely unexpected antics.

         They entered the shop and passed by a disgruntled cashier with beady eyes who was looking at the overly enthusiastic Kaiden suspiciously. They found Kaiden burying his nose in a pile of kitchenware as he squinted his eyes at the “fascinating” Muggle contraptions.

         “Woah! What is this? It looks dangerous,” Kaiden exclaimed loudly as he carefully held the wooden handle of an item with five arching steel wires attached to both ends. Michael shrugged while Alex eyed it suspiciously. Turais looked around to see a pair of wandering eyes observing them and hastily grabbed the object from Kaiden’s hand.

         “It’s a pastry blender,” Turais said quickly as he touched his finger at the wires. “Look! Not dangerous.”

         Just as he was replacing the item back in the bin, Kaiden had already sauntered off down the aisle as he poked at a small item with two looping wires on both ends.

         “And what is this thing?” Kaiden gasped as he stuck two fingers into the loops. Turais was momentarily stumped by it until something suddenly clicked in his mind.

         “Oh, right. It’s a grape skin peeler,” Turais said, extremely proud of himself. 

         “Huh, weird. Never thought of needing one,” Kaiden pulled his fingers back out as yet another item caught his eyes. “Ooo, what’s that?”

         So the three of them spent a good fifteen minutes chasing after an over-excited sixteen-but-acting-like-eight niffler throughout the tiny shop that was its shiny treasure trove until Turais had finally had enough. Glancing around the shop, he spotted a giant red metal box that was of similar size as the cashier desk beside it. It was slightly scratched near the bottom and edges of all sides, revealing the underlying white beneath the red paint. Above the scratch marks were three words in a characteristic cursive white font that said: “DRINK COCA-COLA.”

         After formulating a plan of revenge, he approached the middle-aged woman who was staring down at her half-finished crossword.

         “Excuse me, madam. May I purchase some drinks?” Turais asked politely as the woman grunted and lifted an index finger. Turais stayed silent for a few seconds until she sighed heavily and placed her pencil on the crossword. Tipping her head towards the constant clunking sound in the back corner of her shop, she quipped, “Did his Lordship decide to leave his ivory tower?” 

         Turais blushed in second-hand embarrassment. “He is quite a sheltered child. I do apologize for his behaviour.”

         The woman gave a loud snort but didn’t comment further. She stood up and walked over to the cooler.

         “So we’ve got bottles and cans,” she explained as she lifted the metal lid.

         “Cans would be preferable. And four of them please,” Turais responded as he turned to shout towards the back of the shop. “Hey, Kaiden! I got us some fizzy drinks. I think you’ll like it!”

         “Cool! Let’s do it,” Kaiden scampered into view. Yes! Turais had successfully lured the boy back into the open. Turais quickly paid for four cans of coke to the disgruntled shopkeeper with their change from the bakery.

          “What’s that whirring and ‘ka-ching’ sound from the thing -” Turais slapped his hand over Kaiden’s mouth and dragged him before the woman could swing her crossword book at his face unceremoniously.

         Once they were outside the shop and a safe distance away, Turais handed out the cans of coke. Gesturing his own can, he said, “You see the tab here? You need to pull it up and then out like this.” Turais demonstrated accordingly, and the tab came off entirely to a satisfying crack and fizz.

          ‘Huh, weird. The tab came off,’ Turais thought as he held up the curled metal tab, ‘But no matter, the can’s open.’

         He then placed it to his lips and gulped the familiar refreshing, carbonated liquid followed by a satisfied “ahh.”

         “Okay?” They nodded as they were about to repeat what Turais had just done. “Nah-ah. But before you do that. You would want to shake the can as hard as you can for the extra fizziness.”

         The three boys shook the can as hard as they could up and down a few times.

         “Yes, perfect,” Turais said, “Now, you need to just need to pull the tab and bon appetit .”

         Turais stepped back inconspicuously as the boys pulled on the tab. Suddenly, three streams of bubbles and droplets exploded into their faces. Well, one stream gushed up Kaiden’s nostrils while two streams splashed onto Michael’s face. Turais saw Alex’s mischievous smirk as the can opener was directed at the unlucky boy next to him.

         “Gah!” the two older boys spluttered as their face dripped with their sugary content while the two younger boys hugged their stomachs and roared out in laughter. A passing couple also looked at the hooligans in unconcealed amusement.

         “Damn it, Turais! ”

         “Damn you too, Alex!”

         “I knew it!” Alex said in between breaths, bent over with his hands on his stomach. “I knew you were tricking me, Turais.”

         “Well, we didn’t!” Michael snapped as he turned back to gently wipe down Kaiden’s face with his handkerchief carefully. “There, you’re all clean... relatively clean at least.”

         “What about you?” Kaiden asked. His voice was surprisingly quiet and shaky. Michael just mopped his face with a few quick swipes.

         “I’m all good,” Michael said. He stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket and proceeded to throw a dirty glare at Alex. “You still could’ve tilted the can towards Turais and not me, brat!” 

          He saw Kaiden’s wistful expression as he sneaked tiny glances at the Slytherin captain. Michael seemed completely unaware of it all.

         “Nah, the prankster deserves to have his frustration voiced for the terrible suffering that he has been through,” Turais said happily. 

         “It’s all your fault,” Michael grumbled and shot Kaiden a withering look. Kaiden froze when he made eye contact with the boy. Then, he composed himself and grinned sheepishly.

         “It was a pretty good prank,” Kaiden shrugged before Michael elbowed him in the ribs in retaliation. “We’ll get back at those prats, Michael. I promise.” Kaiden cupped Michael’s face and lifted his cheeks upward into a strained smile. “There you go. You look much happier. A smile does wonders to your looks.”

         Michael growled and shoved Kaiden’s arms away from him. A shadow of melancholy flashed over Kaiden’s expression before he smiled tightly once more. However, while the Gryffindor was not looking, Turais saw Michael cast a fond glance at his companion.

         ‘Huh... interesting...’ Turias thought.

         “There you are, boys,” Charlus, who was standing outside the restaurant, called out. Seeing his son’s stained clothes and wet, sticky hair, Charlus chuckled and asked, “What happened to you two?”

         Turais explained what happened. While he was diving into the tale of Kaiden’s disruptive walk-through, he saw two men sitting by the terrace glancing at them. Their gazes lingered for a moment too long before they turned their attention back to each other once again. Turais’s instincts told him that something was amiss with those two strangers. Turais continued his story as he scanned around for other suspicious individuals, but there was nothing else. When he was finally finished, Charlus laughed heartily and gave a proud clap of Turais’s shoulder.

         “That’s brilliant, Turais. I remember someone taught me to put Mentos with coke... don’t try it with your nice clothes on,” Charlus said. He glanced back into the restaurant. “I wonder what is taking Desmond so long. I just wanted to say goodbye and give him my tea blend. Sorry for the wait, boys.”

         “Maybe he got lost in the loo,” Kaiden said, his eyes dancing with mirth.

         “Kaiden,” Charlus chided warningly, but the corners of his mouth quirked upwards.

         Turais kept his attention on the two stern-looking gentlemen dressed in three-piece suits that were sitting casually at a table on the terrace nearby. Turais observed the two men closely, analyzing their postures and body movements. 

         Quietly, Turais asked Charlus nonchalantly, “Is the Head Auror here on official business?”

         The Head Auror rarely ventured outside the Ministry complex unless for business with other Ministries. If he was on some official business, he would have two Junior Aurors assigned alongside him for protection. Those two men did not seem like Aurors, but Turais knew they were likely magical from a gut instinct. It was as though there was a faint magical glow around them. However, this magical establishment served both magical people and Muggles, so they were potentially just random citizens.

         “No, he was just in the area looking to buy property as a holiday home for his family,” Charlus said as Turais felt him gently turn Turais’s body away from what he was observing.

         “Here in Belford?” Turais asked in confusion. This was a nice place, but it wouldn’t be Turais’s first nor hundredth pick as the location of a holiday home.

         “Yeah, something about rediscovering his roots. One of his ancestors hailed from Belford. Small world, isn’t it?” Charlus said as he eyed the restaurant. “I think we should check on Desmond. Let’s go to the back of the restaurant.” 

         They made their way to the kitchen and greeted Ms Stevens, the restaurant owner. 

         “Hey Beatrice, have you seen Desmond by any chance?” Charlus asked. 

         “Oh, he left through the Floo already,” Ms Stevens said as she wiped down the counter. Behind her was a Victorianesque porcelain lamp that was glowing red. “Looked like he was at his wit’s end and muttering about needing to head back in the Ministry at once. Poor man’s overworked as it is!”

         “Oh... I guess the man forgot all about his precious tea blend,” Charlus frowned as he held up a purple gift bag. “He will just have to wait another week, won’t he?”

         “Suppose so,” Ms Stevens said. She looked back at the Victorianesque lamp that turned green as an old man rounded the corner from the hallway beside them. “Nice flowers, Greg. Are those for me?”

         “It’s for me wife,” Greg said with a wave of a hand as Ms Stevens chuckled.

         “Floo’s all yours, Charlus. You need to get your two dirty ducklings sparkling clean.”

         “Do you have a pen and piece of paper? I want to send something off quickly,” Charlus said as he glanced over Turais’s head. Turais turned back to look outside. The two men were now joined by two ladies and were visibly more relaxed and talkative. Perhaps Turais was just overthinking this entire situation. Suddenly, he felt Charlus physically drawing Turais by his side, effectively blocking his view with his body.

         Charlus discretely drew his wand and muttered a spell on the paper. Then, he started to scribble something down. Except for the addresse, a Jemima Atticus, every word Charlus wrote down immediately vanished as though it was invisible ink. Turais recognized it as a Privacy Spell that only allowed the intended recipient to read the content. If someone else attempted any Revealing Charm, the letter would spontaneously combust. Charlus’s wand then procured an image of four different faces and the bottom of the page. But Turais did not manage to catch a glimpse before it disappeared.

         “I’ll send it off for you,” Ms Stevens held out an envelope and copied the name down. 

         “Thank you, Beatrice,” Charlus said as he led the boys to the Floo chamber. Turais couldn’t help but take one final glance at the table of four. It was then that he noticed that the table was now empty, as though it had never been in use.

         “Come on, Turais,” Charlus said as he offered the pot of Floo powder.

         Turais ignored the nagging suspicion and grabbed a handful of powder. Before all the powder leaked out of his fist, he quickly walked into the fireplace and prepared himself mentally. He threw the powder and shouted: “Potter House” as the licks of green flames whipped around him.

Chapter 29: Inter-House Quidditch Cup (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

INTER-HOUSE QUIDDITCH CUP


 

April 17, 1971 (Saturday)

 

FAWLEY’S SPEECH IGNITES A FIRESTORM

by R. A. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

Uproar From Black Alliance Over ‘Axis of Evil’ Comment

Fawley Retracts Statement and Issues Apology

 

During yesterday's session, former Minister for Magic and current Chief Warlock, Lord Hector Fawley delivered a scathing address that accused the Black-Malfoy coalition and the Knights of Walpurgis as the “axis of evil.”

The following is an excerpt of the jaw-dropping floor speech:

“The Honourable Lords Black and Malfoy currently have unchecked power over the judicial branch of our government in addition to their perpetual vendetta against the Ministry from carrying out its fundamental functions, which is to represent and protect the Wizarding community at large. Those families that actively seek to obstruct the will of its populace and their terrorist allies constitute an axis of evil which threatens the peace of Britain and the rest of Europe….”

Lord Arcturus Black responded swiftly afterwards:

“I would like to remind everyone within these walls that my eldest grandson and heir presumptive of my family was poisoned not a month ago. And the families of which their sons have coordinated the poisoning attempt - the Dolohovs, the Montagues, and the Notts - have been shown to have close ties with the Knights. Lord Fawley will, with his sound mind and keen deduction skills, soon note that we are the last people who would be in league with a belligerent organization that attempted to murder one of our brightest and most promising members.”

Amidst a heavy backlash from both sides of the chamber, Lord Hector Fawley retracted his comment later that afternoon and issued an official apology to Lord Arcturus Black. 

 

***

 

 

 

         With the end of Easter holidays came along the end of the Quidditch season.

         The Inter-House Quidditch Cup was held in two rounds. In the qualifying round, all four House teams competed in a round-robin tournament in which the top two finishers - determined first by the number of wins and then by total game points scored - advanced to the final match that determined the victor.

          At the start of the year, Slytherin defeated Gryffindor (S160-G0) with Turais’s early catch while Ravenclaw narrowly defeated Hufflepuff (H240-R250) in the second match. Slytherin’s match against Hufflepuff occurred in Turais’s absence and ended in a victory for Hufflepuff (H280-S180). Then, Gryffindor delivered a resounding victory against Ravenclaw before Easter holiday (G350-R50).

          Entering the final pair of qualification matches, each House team won exactly one match apiece. This meant that the winners of the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match and Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match would proceed to play against each other.

          With Turais’s medical ban on Quidditch still in place, he found himself holding a green and silver banner in his hands and surrounded by his friends and peers in the Slytherin section as they watched the intense battle over their heads.

          “We are going to lose the damn Cup this year again!” Jonty wailed dramatically as the Ravenclaw scored yet another goal. 

          “RAVENCLAW SCORES!” Winston Hawthorne shouted from the viewing stands high above him.

          “NO!” Jonty yelled in frustration. His sentiment was echoed by the surrounding Slytherin who all moaned and shouted at the dire situation for their House.

          Currently, the scoreboard showed that Ravenclaws had posted a gigantic score of 230 points. The Slytherins had an even larger haul of 260 points in this unusually lengthy match. 

          “Both teams are evenly-matched. It seems like everything will come down to whoever catches the Snitch first,” Hawthorne commented. “And the Quaffle is back to Mondale, who passes to Lee and - she takes a hit from Wilkins and the Slytherin gain possession - Harper, then Arkenstone, back to Harper and - SLYTHERIN SCORES!”

          The Slytherins cheered loudly while the Ravenclaws groaned collectively.

          “Yes!” Turais shouted as he jumped up and down in elation.

          “And… the Quaffle is back in play with Arkenstone, who passes to Harper - intercepted by Hirst and - well-aimed Bludger by Wilkins - back to Pyrites and then to Harper, nice dodge, to Pyrites- oooh, missed pass to Arkenstone and Quaffle is back to Lee - great fake pass - now to Mondale - he is ten yards from the goalpost - and Martin has gone for the Snitch! -”

          Now, the Ravenclaws had a chance to deny the Slytherins the Cup if they caught the Snitch!

          The entire stadium silenced at the turning point of the match, but each House did it for a different reason. The Ravenclaws were staring intensely at their Seeker and willing that he would catch the Snitch. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were hoping that the Ravenclaw team wins so the teams would not face the Slytherins - and Turais - in the final match. The Slytherins were holding their breath as the next minute would likely determine their fate on whether they would stand a chance on breaking their eleven-year drought of winning the Quidditch Cup.

          “I can’t watch this!” Turais shouted as he turned around and closed his eyes. He knew with a sense of dread of what was about to happen. Martin would catch the Snitch, the Slytherins would lose, and Turais could not possibly watch as it unfolded before his eyes.

          “Blishwick is speeding towards it as well - both are reaching for the Snitch -”

          “I’m going to throw up,” Alex said quietly above him as Turais felt the boy wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Turais clutched the back of Alex’s robes as tightly as possible while burrowing his face into the fabric. Right now, he did not know who was lending support to the other; maybe they were both just holding each other upright. 

          “Pyrites moves to intercept Mondale - he fakes and dives - PYRITES SCORES! SLYTHERIN SCORES!” 

          “We had a good run, we had a good run, we had a good run… ” Turais heard the muffled voice of Jonty’s self-hypnotizing chant. 

          Alex and Turais tightened their grip on each other as they braced themselves for the commentary. 

          “Martin gains on Blishwick - she attempts for the Snitch - blocked by Martin - they’re getting tangled up - Blishwicks swipes at the Snitch again - she -” Then, Hawthorne unleashed an uninterrupted string of innovative swear words before he uttered the following words:

          “- BLISHWICK CAUGHT THE SNITCH! - MARTIN SWATTED THE SNITCH INTO BLISHWICK’S OUTSTRETCHED HAND - ”

          “WHAT?!” Turais yelled into the stunned silence of the entire stadium.

          “BLACK, YOU HEARD ME RIGHT! BLISHWICK CAUGHT THE SNITCH FOR SLYTHERIN!”

          Turais opened his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he just heard.

          “RAVENCLAW: FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY - SLYTHERIN: SIX HUNDRED AND THIRTY! But we don’t care because SLYTHERIN HAS JUST ADVANCED TO THE FINALS!”

          Turais tore himself from the Slytherin captain and turned to look at the scoreboard as Hawthorne confirmed the final score. 

          “We won!” Turais screamed at the stunned boy beside him as he punched the air with excitement.

          “Alex!” Jonty screamed as he hugged the other boy. “We made it to the finals! We are going to win the Cup this year!” 

          But then, Jonty remembered that Alex was still angry at him. He released the boy awkwardly and stammered, “I... sorry... I shouldn’t have -”

          Alex stepped forward and gave the boy a wordless hug. Jonty was stunned momentarily before he gave a tentative smile and returned the hug as Turais watched on with a proud smile on his face.

 

***

 

          In the following weekend, the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors engaged in a nail-biting match in which the House of Badgers emerged victorious, which, thereby, set the stage for a final showdown between Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

         Minutes before the final match, Turais was in the Slytherin changing room as Michael marched in front of the line of players and delivered his final pre-game speech of the year.

          “We have trained bloody hard for the past few weeks. We have perfected our techniques and our strategies,” Michael shouted as he walked past Turais. Turais nodded affirmatively. “We have the best Seeker in the form of the one and only Turais Black! -” the boys roared in approval as Cornfoot and Arkenstone gave Turais a friendly slap on one shoulder each,” - I have my perfect better half in Cornfoot! -” another roar of approval, “- And I have finally beaten the Keeper out of Gibbon!” The group laughed and cooed as they clapped the back of the sheepish Gibbon.

          “And I also have, here, three astonishingly brilliant Chasers: the man who is better suited in the air than in sea despite his name - Pyrites! The woman who deserves the Cup on her fifth and final year on the team - Arkenstone! And the incredible fourth-year who has performed above and beyond our expectations - Harper!” Michael shouted as the group cheered and thumped on Harper back. Harper laughed as he met Turais’s gaze and matched his grin. Turais then turned to Michael, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

          Michael shouted one final chant, “Let us win this match against Hufflepuff! And let us win the Cup for Slytherin!”

          “Aye, Captain!” All the players shouted back.

          After Michael had managed to keep his emotions under check, he said sombrely, “Regardless of what happens today, I am proud of our team and what we were able to achieve. You make me a proud Captain!”

          “Aye, Captain!” Everyone screamed in unison... except for Harper.

          “Let’s go win some Quidditch, cap!” Harper shouted as he suddenly turned shy when he realized he was the odd one out. Turais couldn’t help but laugh as the rest of the team joined in. Even Michael cracked a small smile, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

 

***

 

 

          “Harper shoots… and HARPER SCORES! - SLYTHERIN SCORES!” Winston Hawthorne shouted, “And the Quaffle is back in play - Macmillan passes to Polkiss, who fumbles!  - And the Quaffle is stolen by the resident Pyrites - arrrrrr - quick pass to Harper and back - back to Harper again and - SLYTHERIN SCORES! This is the tenth goal for the newest Slytherin Chaser!”

          “Good work!” Turais shouted at the grinning Chaser as he continued to tail the Hufflepuff Seeker, Ted Tonks, closely. Turais spared a glance at the cheering replacement Chaser who was currently doing a small victory lap around the Hufflepuff goalposts while the Keeper Dehlila Parker frowned at the ecstatic boy below her.

          “Incredible! Slytherin is currently in the lead with two hundred and eighty points while Hufflepuff is at one hundred and twenty points. Even if the Hufflepuff Seeker catches the Snitch now, they will still lose the game!”

          A loud cheer filled the Slytherin stands as they saw their widening lead and almost certain victory over the Hufflepuffs. Turais glanced back at frustrated sigh from the Hufflepuff Seeker beside him as he swung his fist violently in displeasure.

          “Rea holds possession and passes to Macmillan - thank Merlin, not Polkiss - sorry, profe -  back to Rea - and Pyrites scores - SLYTHERIN SCORES! Parker, the Hufflepuff Keeper, is definitely not a keeper for next year’s team - haha, get it? - ouch!”

          They circled the pitch once more as Turais tailed him faithfully. Tonks was on the lookout to catch the Snitch and salvage a win for Hufflepuffs, and at the same time, the Slytherins scored another nine more goals against the crumbling Hufflepuff defense, which returned only one goal of their own. 

          Suddenly, Tonks zoomed off into the distance. Turais felt his heart stop as he saw the flickering gold ball fluttering just ahead of him.

          Turais immediately chased after him and put all his force onto the front of the broom as he pushed it to its limits. Soon enough, he gradually caught up to Tonks by sheer superiority of his broom compared to Tonks’s Shooting Star 59 and reached for the Snitch as well.

          He reached as far as he could muster with the physical restraints of a twelve-year-old boy, but he could see it was not enough compared to the seventeen-year-old Hufflepuff. The tips of older boy’s fingers were almost touching the golden ball. Turais was about to despair when it suddenly shot down towards the ground in front of the Gryffindor stands. Turais gasped a quick sigh of relief as he followed with an immediately vertical drop. He could hear that Tonks was not far behind.

          “Black and Tonks are chasing after the Snitch - but they are heading for the pitch grounds -”

          The Snitch plummeted towards the ground along the stadium wall with no sign of stopping as he realized that it was heading towards the bottom of the pitch where all the wooden planks crisscrossed the structure!

          With a slight moment of hesitation, he dove into the treacherous, wooden maze of diagonal and horizontal beams that blocked his path.

          “The Snitch has disappeared to the bottom of the pitch where they can’t - Black followed! THIS IS MADNESS! No one can navigate in there!”

          The golden Snitch warped through the narrow space in neck-breaking speed and agility while Turais spun and rose and ducked in the dangerous labyrinth where mere inches separated safety from serious injuries. He reached out for the Snitch and he could feel the vibration of the air around the minuscule wings when he saw an impassable cross of beams fast-approaching. 

          In a split-second decision, Turais decided to forfeit the chase and spun upwards as his robes fluttered from the quick change in velocity. He found him re-emerging at the other end of the pitch where the Slytherin stands were.

          He hovered up towards the Slytherin crowds, feeling dejected while his body vibrated, as he realized they were all staring at him with slack jaws and wide eyes. He also spotted Jonty and Alex huddled in the front row. While Jonty was eyeing with glowing fascination, Alex’s eyes were narrowed and furious. He gulped slightly at the intense reactions and felt his heart flutter a little. 

          “AND BLACK HAS SURVIVED! MERLIN’S BALLS! Did you see that professor?! He either is the best Quidditch player ever or has a death wish! Hilary, go chase your boy! I approve!”

          “Black!” 

          He turned around to face an extremely furious Seeker flying straight towards him and halting just before he rammed into him. He felt a more erratic fluttering from the near miss around his sternum… or the heart.

          “That was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life!” he shouted, “You could’ve died at any one of those beams! You could’ve -” Tonks’s words died mid-way as he spotted Turais clutching his heart with both hands.

          ‘Oh.’

          “Black, are you not feeling so hot?” Tonks asked with concern as he flew over and placed a steadying hand on the boy’s arm.

          Turais gingerly cupped the struggling Snitch with one hand while freeing the other to reach carefully beneath his tightly-buttoned robes. Upon the touch of his finger, the Snitch became stationary. Turais relaxed and fully reached for the Snitch and raised it over his head. Tonks stared at the golden ball in shock.

          “ - Wait a sec- apparently Black has pulled a modified Plumpton Pass - or should we rename it as Black Pass! BLACK HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN HAS JUST WON THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

          Turais looked at the Snitch incomprehensively. Then, he turned back to the other Seeker and said apologetically, “Sorry, Tonks, I didn’t know the Snitch flew into my sleeve -”

 

          “Stop it, Black. You won fair and square. I never would have caught it, at least not after whatever madness that you just pulled off down there,” Tonks said as he reached his hand out for a shake, “And please, call me Ted.”

          Turais took the hand and shook it. Ted smiled slightly before he flew out. 

         “Nice catch, Turais,” Geoffrey flew by, looking exhausted and disappointed. The boy, ever so courteous, pumped Turais’s hand. “You just gave Gerald something to gush about until the end of term.”

         Immediately after the Hufflepuff Chaser finished, a boy zoomed over.

          “We won!” Harper screamed at the stunned boy beside him as he punched the air with excitement. “Black! We just won the Quidditch Cup!”

          “Another sensational game from Black and a brilliant show of nerves and talent from our young Seeker! Gryffindors, were you watching this?! He’s got bigger balls than all - ouch! Sorry, Professor. HUFFLEPUFF: ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY - SLYTHERIN: SIX HUNDRED! This must be one of Hufflepuff’s worst defeats in Hogwarts history! I’m a Hufflepuff, and I’m not even mad about this! Am I under a Confundus?! - ”

          “We won,” Turais breathed as he turned to look at the scoreboard as Hawthorne to confirm the final score. Then, he seized the gobsmacked Slytherin captain’s shoulders and shook them as he screamed, “We won!”

          Turais saw the exact moment when realization dawned upon the boy as Michael spun him around locked him into a tight embrace. His body was shaking violently, and Turais heard an unrestrained sob. Then, the crowd reacted. Turias felt heavy thumps on his back from all the Slytherins as the ambient noise gave way to roaring laughter, shouts, and noisy flaps of frantic waves of banners and flags. He could barely hear Harper’s, Cornfoot’s, and Gibbon’s voices chanting, “We’ve won the Cup! Slytherins won the Cup!” even though they were right beside him because of the jubilant crowd.

          “SLYTHERIN TAKES HOME THE CUP FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ELEVEN YEARS!”

          The entire team descended onto the Pitch ground as Turais felt the brushes of dozens of hands as he was swept in utter euphoria. When he regained his senses, he realized that he had been transported to the staff viewing stands. He looked out to the stadium and saw a flood of Slytherin supporters finding their way into the pitch and gathering below the stands close to them.

 

          Professor Slughorn was beside himself as he leaped up and down to the amusement of the other professors sitting around him. In the distance, Turais could spot Jane and Alice making their way towards them and celebrating their win. Turais then turned to look around the stand as he found a beaming Orion and his ecstatic brothers. Sirius and Regulus were jumping up and down while waving their tiny green and silver flags excitedly.

          Turais left his team and ran towards his family to hug them passionately. His brothers seized his neck and waist respectively and squeezed with all their might while Orion reached and shielded all his sons from the rest of the world. Turais felt as though his bones and joints would crack and pop, but he didn’t mind at all. 

          “Great catch, Turais. As usual,” Orion smiled proudly.

          “You were amazing, Turais!” Regulus shouted in a rare display of raw emotions.

          “Turais, you are the best Seeker in the world!” Sirius screamed.

          “Okay. Let your brother go get his Cup first!” Orion nudged them as Turais smiled at his father and turned to where Dumbledore stood. 

          Beside him, there was an enormous Quidditch Cup in all its silver, four-handled glory that gleamed under the late morning sunlight. The metal bowl was set atop a giant column composed of thin bands of silver. Each ring was engraved with the House emblem of the winning Quidditch team and the team members’ names throughout Hogwarts’s millennium-long history. Turais knew his name would be found etched on the bottom-most and newest ring.

          “And now, Professor Dumbledore will hand over the Quidditch Cup to the winners of this year’s Inter-House Quidditch Cup!” Hawthorne shouted excitedly into the magical megaphone at the corner of the stand.

          Dumbledore lifted the magically-lightened Cup and passed it onto the trembling hands of Carmichael Wilkins. He lifted it up and faced the entire stadium to the applause of their supporters. Then, he glanced back and motioned Turais to come forward. Turais stumbled towards the front, and Michael passed him the Cup as the crowd responded with a much more enthusiastic cheer.

          “We did it, Turais!” Michael shouted with a radiant smile on his face as jubilant tears rolled down his cheeks. 

          “We did it,” echoed Turais emotionally. 

Chapter 30: Interlude - Second Year in Review (revised)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THIRTY

INTERLUDE: SECOND YEAR IN REVIEW


 

         After the tumultuous February and March, Turais was glad that Jonty’s whining about the exams was the most dramatic incident that happened in the remainder of the term.

         Montague, Nott, and Dolohov’s murder trial proceeded under the watchful eyes of Arcturus in the Grand Jury Court. Despite being the sons of pureblood families, he enjoyed the support from most of the Lords on the bench.

         Despite the fact that the majority of Lords agreed to the sentencing of the Dementor’s Kiss for the three barely legal students, it didn’t stop their allies from pulling every single procedural rule in existence to delay the advancement of their inevitable fate. Turais could imagine what a horrible fate it was to be kissed by a Dementor, but he could not bring himself to pity their demise. They were legal adults with full mental capacity and understood their actions, yet they still knowingly participated in the murder of a mere twelve-year-old child. Such people should never be permitted to roam the streets again.

         Now, Turais was once again sitting amongst his peers at the end-of-year feast in Great Hall that was decorated in green and silver and lined with overhead banners depicting the House of Serpents.

         Professor Dumbledore addressed the student body and awarded the House Cup to Professor Slughorn for the second year in a row amidst the roaring approval from the Slytherin table. Professor Slughorn proudly placed the golden trophy next to the silver Quidditch Cup in front of him and looked quite smug. Professor McGonagall didn’t even look that displeased this year. In fact, Turais might have caught her toast directed at him before the feast started.

         Soon, the exam results were released. This time around, most of the Ravenclaws took the results in strides and even joked with Turais and asked him to misread a question or two to give them a shot at coming in first. Turais thought that they might have resigned themselves to the fact that someone who had time to work on a world-changing Potion, play on the Quidditch House team, and surviving an attempt on his life was worthy of besting them.

         Now, Turais was sitting with his friends on the grounds by the Black Lake as they enjoyed the final moments at Hogwarts for this year. In the far distance, a giant tentacle waved in the air as it tried to swat down a bird.

         “Do you know which electives you would like to study next year?” Alice asked as she watched the blue birds scattered in all directions. 

         “Definitely not Divination,” Jonty declared immediately. “It is a fraud of a subject in my opinion. Pure drivel.”

         “Why do you say that?” Jane asked. “I find it fascinating that someone can know something about the future just from reading the dredges at the bottom of their tea cup.”

          “I’m taking Divination next year as well,” Gerald announced. “I heard Divination is really popular with the girls...” His eyebrows moved suggestively as Alice swatted him on the head.

         “Don’t be so naïve, Jane,” Jonty snorted. “As my father once said, ‘If everyone can tell their fortune from staring at a cup of tea, we would all run out of fortune buying tea leaves.’ Also, you need to be wary of swindlers and scoundrels such as him...” Jonty cocked his head at the Hufflepuff, “... taking advantage of the lonely maiden hearts...”

         “Hey! Don’t call me that!” Gerald said indignantly. “And don’t tell me that thought has never crossed your mind, Jonty.”

         “It never crossed my mind,” Jonty said as he stuck out his tongue. Gerald fumed and clawed at the boy unsuccessfully.

         “Hmmm... I guess you are correct as well,” Jane said thoughtfully before she sighed. “Oh well, I still think it is a cool thing to learn about...”

         “Well... my father has already told me to take Magical Theory, Arithmancy, and Study of Ancient Runes...” Jonty said as he picked a blade of grass and flicked it.

         “But you should get to choose your own electives! They are called electives for a reason. You elect to take the courses you want,” Jane protested.

         “Well... that’s what my father wants. And I want what my father wants,” Jonty said sharply. Jane’s frown deepened. “But enough about me, what are you choosing, Turais?”

         “I have not decided yet,” Turais said. “But I know I am certainly not taking Care of Magical Creatures.”

         “But you are going to consider Divination still?” Jonty said incredulously.

         “Well... it could be interesting,” Turais said defensively. In truth, he just wanted to see whether Castielle Trelawney, the aunt of Sybil Trelawney, was less of a fraud compared to her successor and could actually provide him with some information regarding the future of this timeline.

         “You surprise me, my little scholar,” Jonty said.

         “Needed to keep you on your toes, mate.”

         Jonty snorted. “You already do with all the shenanigans you find yourself in.”

         “Well... I also can’t have you figuring me out so easily now, can I?”

         Jonty snorted again as he returned sarcastically. “Yeah, you’re a real enigma, aren’t you?”

         “Jonty!” Alex admonished. “Stop hurting Turais’s self-esteem.”

         “I’ll leave that job to you - healing his bruised self-esteem,” Jonty said as Alex frowned. “What? - Don’t glare at me like that, Alex.”

         His two best friends continued to bicker while Turais watched on with amusement.

         When the Slytherin trio returned to the dormitory, they found that Flint was sitting on his bed reading.

         “Flint,” Turais greeted with a friendly nod.

         “Black,” Flint nodded in return. As Turais went about his business, he noticed that Flint walked up to him. Turning around with an inquiring gaze, Flint said, “I think you should consider this if you haven’t already.”

         Turais glanced down at the proffered piece of parchment and took it. It was a pamphlet calling for all interested minors to apply for two positions of British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot.

         “The minimum age requirement is being a third-year. I reckon you might have a genuine shot at this, especially given your political prowess. Securing Slughorn’s nomination should not be an issue either. And there have been plenty of examples where two members of the same House have obtained both positions,” Flint said.

         “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Flint. But I have scarcely heard of this post prior to today... who are the current representatives?” Turais inquired.

         “Malfoy and some Ravenclaw seventh-year,” Flint replied.

         “Interesting,” Turais said as he continued to read the requirements. “Here, they say that the representatives should ‘... reach out to his or her community...’, I seriously doubt any of that has happened, or I would’ve noticed.”

         Flint grunted, “No one told Malfoy what he should or should not do around these parts - well, before you, at least.”

         “Hmmm, I will consider this. Thank you for the information.”

         “Well, that’s why I handed this to you,” Flint rolled his eyes before he left the room. “Consider it.”

 

***

 

         On the last day at Hogwarts, Turais stood outside Professor Slughorn’s office nervously. He readied himself and knocked on the door. After a few moments, the door slowly creaked open.

         “Oh Turais, m’boy!” Slughorn said cheerily as he opened the door fully. “Why are you in this gloomy castle instead of enjoying the sun out on the grounds?”

         Turais inhaled a steadying breath before he asked his question.

         “Professor, I would like to apply to become the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot.”

         “Oh,” Slughorn said with a hint of surprise. “Is that all?”

         “And I would also like to apply for a Time-Turner.”

Chapter 31: Potter-Black Relations (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

This is part two and the full chapter for this week's two-part update! Enjoy!

- ravenclawblues 2020-03-20

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

POTTER-BLACK RELATIONS


 

June 23, 1971 (Wednesday)

 

EXPLOSIVE ROW BETWEEN FAWLEY AND FLINT

by R. A. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

Minchum Accuses Ministry of Incompetency

Calls for Wizengamot to Lead and Urges Return to Civility

 

During yesterday’s afternoon session, the Chief Warlock, Lord Fawley, engaged in a vitriolic spat with Lord Flint. That heated exchange culminated to an explosive end when Lord Fawley embraced his fiery personality and accused Lord Flint of being a ‘pathological liar’, and refused to withdraw his comment. Lord Flint returned fire with an equally unapologetic phrase of ‘sub-illuminated gobs--te.’ Both phrases resulted in their immediate expulsion by Deputy Chief Warlock, for the remainder of the debate.

Mr Minchum, publicly elected representative to the open seat of West Country (formerly the family seat of Harris), provided a scathing retort to both sides of the chamber shortly after the expulsion:

The entire chamber should be ashamed of this pathetic showing of basic manners by two esteemed and respectable Lords. We are here to do our jobs: to represent the interests of our constituents, to engage in civil political discourse, and to present the most well-thought-out solutions in response to our people’s problems and concerns. With the Ministry’s leadership in disarray and their incompetency on full display, the people now turn to us to lead them through these trying and turbulent times. Yet, instead of doing what is required of us and instilling faith, we are squabbling like petty schoolyard children. I urge both sides to return to civility and partake in constructive conversations. We might not agree on various issues, but we must learn to listen to each other with rational minds. Only with cooler heads and unbiased minds shall we prevail.

 

***

 

        “I’m boooorrred!” James’s voice blared out from the kitchen.

        “When will our letters arriveeeee?” Sirius’s question was heard as well.

        “Coooommme oooooon, stupid birds! Fly faster!”

         It was the crack of dawn. James and Sirius were sitting around the kitchen table in their pajamas. Alex and Regulus were still sound asleep in their rooms while the three adults and Turais were in the sitting room down the hall.

         Ever since James had written to Sirius last month about opening their Hogwarts letter together and ever since Orion agreed to it after extracting a hefty promise from Sirius to behave impeccably for the rest of summer, things started to spiral out of control. Both boys seemed to have taken the (very limited) scope of the agreement and applied it to daily Floo-calls, then actual hang-outs, then finally, a sleepover Hogwarts letter watch-party.

         Potter-Black relations were also at an all-time high - notably among Turais’s generation. However, Turais must admit that while his generation was getting along with each other perfectly, Orion’s generation was taking much longer to warm up to one another. And the resistance was mostly on Orion’s part as he was still struggling to manoeuver into the unknown territories of friendship with the patriarch of a Light family.

        “More tea?” Orion gestured to the levitating teapot that was currently tipped and refilling his cup.

        “That is an excellent idea. Thank you, Orion,” Fleamont said. He allowed his teacup to be levitated from his saucer.

         Turais eyed the adults cast in the amber glow from the nearby hearth. While the light painted a lovely portrait of homeliness and comfort, the inability of the warmth to penetrate through the measured silence failed to corroborate on such desired deception. 

        “I dare say bringing up three children must have been quite a challenge, Orion.” Fleamont’s voice shook everyone out of their isolated reveries.“Euphemia and I are exhausted with James alone.”

        “The worst is behind us,” Orion said neutrally. Yet another fiendish scream split through the inanimate silence. They winced” - or so I dared to hope.”

        “I SEE THEM! I SEE THE OWLS,” Sirius shouted.

        “THERE ARE THREE OF THEM! THEY MUST BE FROM HOGWARTS,” James shouted. “ONE FOR TURAIS, ONE FOR ME, AND ONE FOR YOU, SIRIUS.”

         Eyeing an opportunity to leave this little tense exchange since a good half an hour ago, Turais immediately excused himself in favour of receiving his Hogwarts letter. Just as he entered the kitchen, he saw the boys pointing at something outside the window excitedly. Soon enough, the three owls barely made it through the window and onto the table when the two boys suddenly pounced onto them. Startled, the owls immediately snipped and flapped their wings in alarm and defense. Ear-splitting screams and high-pitched bird screeches accompanied the fall of civility into a flurry of limbs, talons, and feathers. 

        “AH HAH!” James emerged victoriously from the scuffle with feathers sticking out of his hair and tiny scratches on his left cheek. In his hand were two envelopes. Sirius was in a similar state but only held one. Meanwhile, the mauled owls hooted angrily as they disappeared in a few flaps of wings. “I WON!” 

        “You cheated,” Sirius shouted as Kreacher appeared by the window with a dustpan and broom to sweep away the fallen feathers.

        “No, I did not,” James retorted.“But let’s open up the letters first.”

        The boys slapped the three envelopes on the table.“This one is for Turais... wait - This is one is for Turais as well - and the third one as well.”

         While the two boys groaned and slumped back into their wooden chairs in sleepy defeat, Turais immediately snatched up the letters. He returned to the sitting room and opened the first letter. It was from Professor Slughorn, who wrote and explained that he had officially submitted his recommendation in Turais’s bid for the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot. However, Turais noticed the lack of any mentions about the progress for his Time-Turner application.

         He tore open the second letter. After he scanned the letter, he was silenced by shock and passed it on to Orion numbly.

        “Turais, you have just been invited to present at the International Symposium for Potions this year,” Orion said proudly, his eyes shining brightly. He handed the letter to Fleamont and asked him, “Fleamont, you are a seasoned Potions Master. Would you mind telling us what this means?”

        “The Wolfsbane Potion has been submitted for approval for the clinical trials. Therefore, the committee wishes for you and Mr Belby to deliver a speech on your findings,” Fleamont said. “The International Symposium for Potions is the largest conference for Potions research. Researchers from around the globe will gather and have a chance to present their research and exchange knowledge and ideas. And this year, it will be held in Paris.”

        “Oh... I don’t know about that...” Turais balked at the idea of giving a grand speech in front of an erudite crowd that would tear his work into shreds. He was knowledgeable in Potions to the extent of an ordinary Auror trainee with the dusty knowledge of a N.E.W.T.-level graduate. He was no professional.

        “I think this will be a wonderful opportunity to meet new people and see the recent innovations,” Fleamont said. “And remember, everyone knows you are new to this field, so they will be very lenient. Also, Mr Belby can do the presentation by himself should you not feel comfortable doing so. I assure you that everyone is just ecstatic to meet the young man who had an immeasurable impact on potentially one of the most influential Potions invented in this century!”

         Turais gulped under the weight of those words. “I’ll write to Damocles about this. I’m sure he has received this letter as well, and he must be ecstatic at the opportunity. Fleamont, will you be there as well?”

         “Why, of course!” Fleamont grinned. “I’m one of the committee members organizing this event.”

         “So you knew about this beforehand?!” Turais screeched. “Why didn’t you give me a warning?”

         “I’m bound by a vow of secrecy, so I cannot reveal the decisions made,” Fleamont said apologetically.

         Turais nodded mutely as he turned his attention to the third letter.

         It was a black envelope with a golden symbol on one side. Beneath it was Turais’s full name penned in an elegant, cursive font in shimmering, gold ink. Turais took a closer look at the symbol, which consisted of a single dot within a circle and a fleur-de-lis protruded outwards on the top-right edge of the circle. 

         Then, he heard a loud gasp from Fleamont. Turais looked up to find the older man pointing at the envelope with shock and fascination.

         “That’s the symbol of Nicolas Flamel,” Fleamont breathed out.

         “What?!” Orion gasped incredulously as he tilted the envelope so he could confirm. His eyes widened in recognition at the symbol. “Turais, open it up and read it quickly.”

         Turais didn’t waste a second as he tore open the envelope and read the letter within.

         “Nicolas Flamel invited me to visit his residence on the final day of the conference,” Turais summarized as he handed the letter to Orion.

         “This is an extraordinary opportunity, Turais,” Fleamont said excitedly. “Flamel must be very impressed for him to extend an invitation to you for a private audience. I can count the number of people who had this honour with one hand.”

         “But I don’t understand why he would want to see me,” Turais said.

         “Don’t look a gift horse in its mouth,” Fleamont said. “Few people can claim to have had a private conversation with the legendary Nicolas Flamel. You must go.”

         “I will write my reply at once,” Turais said. 

         “AAARRGH! THE HOGWARTS LETTERS ARE FINALLY HERE!” James’s scream reverberated throughout the house.

 

***

 

         Turais appeared from the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron to Orion and the surrounding rambunctious crowd of chattering diners. The fire behind him flared up again as his brothers stepped out. After him, the Potters appeared as well. Several people noticed the two families and started to cast curious glances at them. They quickly made their way past Tom, the barkeeper, and into the courtyard. Fleamont tapped his wand on the brick wall, and the bricks started to rearrange themselves, brick-by-brick, into an archway. Finally, it stopped at revealed a bustling crowd that weaved up and down a narrow passage with the crooked building of Gringotts gleaming in the distance.  

         “We best get started if we are to finish at least half of the shopping for these boys today,” Orion said as he pulled out the school supplies list for Turais, Sirius, and Alex. “I don’t see how we can manage them all today -”

         “Orion,” Fleamont said. “Why don’t Sirius join James at Madam Malkin’s to measure for their first-year robes. Then, we can head to Flourish and Blotts to pick up everyone’s textbooks. This would save you some time.”

         “I have booked an appointment for Turais and Sirius at Twilfitt and Tattings,” Orion said. “It is in two hours. I have also arranged for our portraits to be taken in an hour’s time.”

         “Ah, of course,” Fleamont said pleasantly. “So why don’t you provide Euphemia and me with the supplies lists. We will shop for all the books, potion ingredients, and equipment while James can go with Sirius for their wand shopping at Mr Ollivander’s. That should leave them with enough time to browse for their owls before your photography session. Then, we can reconvene at Twilfitt and Tattings?”

         Orion nodded as the Potters walked off towards the direction of Flourish and Blotts while Orion and the five children headed towards Mr Ollivander’s. Not even a second later, the two ten-year-olds whined.

         “Can we start walking?!” James and Sirius shouted in unison. Then they looked at each other in surprise.

         “Wicked!” they shouted at the same time.

         They laughed loudly in delight.

         “Let’s go, father! I want to get my wand!” Sirius whined. 

         Orion frowned. “Sirius, behave. I do not want to hear any frivolous complaints.”

         “Yes, father,” Sirius’s smile turned into a sulk in an instant.

         “Ah, welcome. Master Black,” Mr Ollivander said with a deep bow as they entered the store. “Mr Fawley -” He said with a hint of surprise “- and Master Turais Black -” 

         There was a loud series of rattling that came from deep within the store as if some foul creature was trying to escape from its confinement. Mr Ollivander cast his gaze down the dark aisle, between the wand boxes that were protruding messily from both sides.

         “I might have an idea what that is...” he muttered softly. Offering his apologies, Mr Ollivander disappeared for a brief while before returning. Looking flustered, which was highly unusual for the man, Mr Ollivander looked up at Orion nervously and said with a slight quiver in his voice. “It was exactly what I thought. A pesky box of old belongings from… from my… dear cousin Gertrude who passed away last year. It had never tried to escape before today...”

         “Inheritance magic is extremely powerful,” Orion warned lightly. “It would be wise for you not to ignore its signs.” 

         Mr Ollivander’s eyes darted across all the faces in the room before clearing his throat noisily.

         “Inheritance magic never harms their descendants. But rest assured that I will investigate the matter in due time. But before that, we have something more important to do...”

         Orion placed his hands on Sirius’s shoulder and said, “My second child is in search of a wand. As well as Master Potter.”

         “Who’s Master Potter?” James frowned for a moment and looked around him. “Oh, you mean me!”

         “Of course...” Mr Ollivander said quickly as he took several measurements from the two boys. Satisfied, he then disappeared to back of the store. After a few moments, he returned with an armful of new wands.

         “Please step forward, Mr Potter,” Mr Ollivander said as James bounced forward eagerly. He was about to hand the boy his first wand before his eyes snapped up towards the rest of the group. “Mr Potter, wand information - especially the wand core - is extremely personal information. Do you wish for your guests to step outside for a moment while you choose your wand?”

         James blinked once before he shook his head and shrugged. “Nah, I’m alright. I’m going to tell Sirius what it is anyway.”

         “If you are certain... this first one is mahogany and unicorn hair. Eleven -” Mr Ollivander said as James immediately reached up and snatched it out of the man’s hand eagerly. 

         The instant that James’s fingers touched the wand, Turais felt a rush of wind and magic swirl around him as the tip of the wand let off a series of red sparks.

         “Wonderful!” Mr Ollivander gasped in excitement. “A match on the first try.”

         James looked at his wand filled with unbridled joy and contentment. Then, he jumped up and down ecstatically. “Does this mean this is an especially powerful wand? To match with it on the first try?”

         “It’s not uncommon for one to find a match on their first try,” Mr Ollivander said matter-of-factly as James’s face fell.

         “Oh...” James said, sounding slightly disappointed. But then, his face split into a wide grin again as he shouted, “But I have my wand, woohoo!”

         He proceeded to wave his wand around in various dueling stances and make his own sound effects with his voice. Mr Ollivander cast a wary side glance at the hyperactive boy before turning his attention to Sirius.

         “So, Mr Black. Please step up as well. This is an elm and dragon heartstring. Pliable - no - this one is hawthorn and dragon heartstring - not at all...”

         Soon enough, there was a modest pile of tried wands laying on the counter. It was only a fraction of Turais’s pile two years ago, but it was still impressive. James was now spinning on a swivel chair at the corner of the store with a wand in his hand; he looked mightily bored. Alex, on the other hand, was engrossed with the various wands that were waiting to be tried by Sirius. Meanwhile, Sirius was looking slightly deflated as he stood, back hunched, in the center of the room.

         “Sirius, you are taking sooooo long!” James complained.

         “Wand selection is a delicate task!” Mr Ollivander’s ordinarily wispy eyes hardened as he snapped at James, who was clearly unaware of the wandmaker’s fury as he continued to spin around on his chair.

         “Walnut and unicorn hair. Ten and a quarter inches. Pliable,” Mr Ollivander said with a hint of annoyance as he thrust another wand at Sirius.

         “I don’t think it will fit -” Alex said as he scrunched his nose. Not a second later, Mr Ollivander snatched the wand out of Sirius’s hand and replaced it with another one. “Not a yew either.” 

         “What are you mumbling about, boy?” Mr Ollivander asked he he narrowed his glare at Alex. Alex looked like a unicorn at wand point as he froze.

         “No... nothing,” Alex said.

         “You were providing a running commentary throughout Mr Black’s wand selection process,” Mr Ollivander said. “Don’t think that I didn’t catch it. What are your thoughts?”

         Exposed, Alex chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I’ll stop talking,” he said meekly.

         “I didn’t say stop. I said, ‘Tell me what you think?’” Mr Ollivander asked again.

         Alex’s eyes darted between the man and Sirius for a moment before he said hesitantly, “Well... Mr Ollivander, the wands that are associated with his family traits or his father’s traits did not work,” Alex suggested with his nose buried deep in the pile of wood. “I know Sirius’s personality well, and I think he would be better matched with the more playful wands? Dogwood or ebony, perhaps?”

         Mr Ollivander considered Alex’s words carefully as he studied the boy through his narrow glasses. Then, he disappeared back into the stores briefly before returning with more wands. 

         “Let us try these, Mr Black. Blackthorn and dragon heartstring. Thirteen and a half inches. Bendy - no, no, no - Try this. Dogwood and unicorn hair. Twelve and three-quarters inches - NO! Give that back, boy - How about dogwood and phoenix feather - never mind - ebony and phoenix feather. Reasonably springy. Thirteen and a half inches - ah-hah!

         Golden sparks jetted out of the wand tip as Sirius shouted ecstatically. “Turais, father! I got chosen for a wand!”

         Turais grinned at his brother as he ruffled his hair. Alex beamed as well as Mr Ollivander gave him an approving glance. 

         “Fawley, you said...” Mr Ollivander wondered aloud. “I remember a Fawley who wrote to me two years ago. Was that you?” Alex nodded nervously as Mr Ollivander nodded. “Mr Fawley, are you interested in becoming a wandmaker, by any chance?” 

         Alex’s jaws dropped and hung down uselessly. Turais looked at the boy exasperatedly. This boy needed someone to give him a hand.

         “Yes!” Turais said in Alex’s stead. “He has always been interested in wandlore, and he always mentioned how he wanted to become an apprentice under you. Would there be any chance of that?”

         Mr Ollivander hummed thoughtfully. “Pity that you aren’t an Ollivander... although you do look the part if I can say so myself. Also, your heart and mind are in the right place...”

         Mr Ollivander look conflicted like he was faced with a difficult conundrum. Then, Turais recalled his brief conversation with the adult Alexander Fawley in the previous timeline.

         “Alex is a brilliant person,” Turais pleaded immediately. “I know he is not an Ollivander, and I also know that wandmakers tend to keep their business within their families, but perhaps you can make an exception for him?”

         The old man glanced between the two hopeful children. Then, his eyes hardened in determination as he said, “Come back after you’ve graduated. I might have something for you then.”

         Alex’s eyes widened comically as Mr Ollivander started to gather the unchosen wands. Turais shook Alex’s shoulder excitedly as the other boy stood in utter shock.

         “Alex!” Turais said.

         “He didn’t promise anything...” Alex muttered.

         “Well, he said he would consider it, at least.”

         “I suppose...” Alex whispered.

         “Are we finally done?!” James shot off the chair and ran back to the counter, his glasses skewed from all the spinning. “I want to leave and see the new Nimbus 1701!”

         Orion quickly paid twelve Galleons for the two wands, but before they were able to leave the store, Mr Ollivander called out again.

         “Mr Fawley,” Mr Ollivander said, “Take care to choose Care of Magical Creatures, Magical Theory, and Arithmancy for your electives. They are very important for your foundation.”

         Alex nodded immediately in response.

         “Thank you, Mr Ollivander,” Alex said.

 

***

 

         While James and Sirius were plastered onto the window staring at the stunning art piece that was the Nimbus 1701, Turais and Alex noticed a familiar sight. Not too far away from the Quality Quidditch Supplies store, Turais could see that Michael was heading towards them. Behind him were three adults. Furthermore, there was a female companion walking alongside Michael. Compared to the darker complexion and thick, black hair possessed by the Wilkinses, her skin was fair, and her hair was fiery red.

         “Hey, Alex, look,” Turais nudged Alex. “That’s Michael, isn’t it?”

         Alex looked over for a moment before he nodded. Then, he whispered, “Can you see how deep his scowl is? And I thought how he acted in Hogwarts was bad...”

         Turais observed the moment that Michael noticed them. His expression turned into one of shock, then of panic, before it finally settled in a grim realization. He looked as though he wished to be anywhere but here.

         “Master Black,” the older lady walked up in front of Michael and raised her hand regally, “Pleasure to see you again. I’m sure you recognize my youngest daughter, Lavinia.”

         “Indeed,” Orion said. “It’s lovely to see you blossom into such a fine lady, Ms Swire.”

         “It has been too long, Mr Black,” Ms Swire said sweetly as she stepped forward and took Orion’s hand with a courtesy.

         “Indeed,” Lady Swire said. “And this is Mr and Ms Wilkins.”

         “Pleasure to meet you both,” Orion said cordially. “Are your families shopping for supplies today?”

         “Not exactly,” Lady Swire said as she gestured to her daughter and Michael. “We are on our way to the restaurant. My daughter is getting acquainted with young Mr Wilkins. I would love to continue this lovely conversation, but I’m afraid we must head off. Please excuse us.”

         “Of course, Lady Swire. I must head to our next appointment as well,” Orion said smoothly.

         Once the Wilkinses were out of earshot, Orion commented, “It seems like there will be a courtship between the Wilkins heir and the youngest Swire daughter.”

         Turais asked Orion, “Father, who are the Swires?”

         “The Swires detest the smog-choked London and primarily resides in the French countryside now. Lady Swire is also the sister of Lord Malfoy’s late wife. Therefore, the two families are bound both by marriage and by politics.”

         “And how old is Lavinia Swire? I don’t recognize her from school,” Turais said.

         “You would not have possibly met her at Hogwarts since she studies at Beauxbatons. She is sixteen years old, if I’m not mistaken.”

         Now Turais understood, Michael was being forced by his parents into an arranged marriage with the Swires. Such betrothals and arranged marriages were falling out of favour, but they still persisted in more conservative families. Clearly the Wilkinses was one of those families.

         “Are we expecting a betrothal announcement anytime soon?”

         “I doubt it would be within this year as we must have witnessed merely the beginning of this courtship. And males generally do not enter a marriage contract until they are of age. So it would likely be next year, at the soonest.”

         Turais hummed thoughtfully.

 

***

 

 

 

         Turais rang the doorbell with Alex beside him. Orion had just Apparated away to Side-Along with Sirius and Regulus.

         “Happy birth-”

         Turais’s shout stopped when the door swung open to reveal a jittery and scowling Slytherin captain instead of the Gryffindor counterpart whom Turais was expecting.

         “Hey, Mich-” Michael placed his hand on Turais’s mouth before he walked outside and closed the front door behind him. “What’s going on -”

         “Turais,” Michael said in a dangerously low tone. Then, he shot a pointed side glance at Alex, who gulped, “Alex. Do not. Mention. Anything. About. Lavinia. Am I understood?”

         Turais blinked owlishly before he realized what the boy meant.

         “Do not. Breath. A. Single. Word. About. It. To Kaiden -”

         “What should they not tell me?”

         The three boys whipped around to see Kaiden at the wide-open doorway.

         “Oh... just about my birthday present,” Michael lied smoothly with a soft smile. He swung an arm around each of the two third-years and said, “Turais and Alex helped me with it, and I needed to make sure they didn’t spoil the surprise.”

         “I’m sure they both have more sense than that,” Kaiden laughed. “But doesn’t that mean you only gave me half a present, Michael, if they were to lay claim to parts of yours?”

         “Kaiden, when did I ever only give you a single present?” Michael asked.

         “I don’t know, maybe my sixth birthday?” Kaiden suggested with a teasing grin.

         “You can’t hold me accountable for that!”

         “Michael, you know I love every gift you gave me,” Kaiden said softly while looking down at his hands.

         Turais noted that the tips of Michael’s ears tinted pink at the comment as the two captains stood in an amiable but loaded silence. 

         ‘Huh... interesting...’

         Kaiden cleared his throat and turned to Turais. “However, I’m not so lenient on you, young man,” Kaiden said.

         “Happy sixteenth birthday, you cheeky bastard,” Turais said with a grin as he held out the wrapped present.

         Kaiden snatched it out of his grasp and proceeded to give him a crushing hug. For a brief second, he felt that his feet were off the ground. "Aw, Turais, love you too, mate!" 

         “Did I ever mention that I hate being lifted?” Turais said as he tried to regain his breath while Kaiden gave Alex a one-armed hug. 

         “Nope,” Kaiden smiled with all his teeth in glistening white and clearly full of himself. “And even if you did...” Kaiden motioned one finger towards his left ear and the other finger away from the right ear. “... you should know me by now. It doesn’t work unless I choose to retain the information. And Michael, would you mind heading to the pitch to get everyone organized since our final Quidditch member has arrived. We will be right there once I get everyone here settled.”

         “Of course,” Michael said with a squeeze on Kaiden’s shoulder. “I’ll head back to the pitch right now.”

         “Thank you, Michael,” Kaiden said. Behind the birthday boy’s head, Michael gave both Turais and Alex a stern glare as a parting reminder of their promise before he disappeared through a doorway. A few seconds later, Orion, Sirius, and Regulus appeared at the front doorstep with a quiet pop.

         “Happy birthday, Kaiden,” Orion said as he crossed the threshold.

         “Thank you, Mr Black,” Kaiden said. “My mum and the other parents are in the sitting room. James and the others were upstairs playing Exploding Snap the last time I checked. Alex, I know you’re a big boy, but if you don’t want to -”

         “I’ll go upstairs with Sirius and Regulus.”

         “Great! There are a few third- and fourth-years as well, so you can join them, Alex.” Alex nodded.

         “How about you, Turais?” Regulus asked.

         Kaiden wrapped his arm around Turais and said, “Don’t worry about your big brother. He is coming with me to play some big boy Quidditch.”

         “I want to play Quidditch too!” Sirius whined.

         “Sorry, Sirius,” Kaiden said. “It’s big boys only - or Hogwarts students only -”

         “But I have my letter already! I have all my Hogwarts supplies! I’m a Hogwarts student!” Sirius said hotly.

         “Nuh-uh, I wasn’t done yet -” Kaiden tutted, “- Big boy means Hogwarts student and being on a House Team,” Kaiden said. “I banned James as well, so no complaints.”

         Sirius slouched in defeat.

         “Sirius, Regulus. I will be with the adults if you need anything,” Orion said. Sirius and Regulus nodded as they followed Alex and started to climb the stairs. Before Orion disappeared down the hallway, he said, “Turais, don’t forget your gift.”

         “Don’t worry, Mr Black, it’s safely in my hands,” Kaiden called out as he waved Turais’s gift in his hand. He led Turais towards the back of the house. “You have your broom? Perfect! Can I borrow it sometime today? Catherine refuses to let any of us lay a single finger on her broom.”

         “Of course!” Turais said.

         “That’s why you are my favourite person, Turais,” Kaiden grinned as he wrapped an arm around him. “We are -”

         “I thought your favourite person in the world is -” a female voice sounded from above them before Kaiden slapped his hand over her mouth. Turais looked up to see a girl’s face, blond ponytail, brown eyes... but upside down. Now Turais noticed that her shoes were attached to the ceiling with glistening purple footprints behind her.

         “Gwen! Stop spreading slander about me and stop tracking that goo all over my ceiling. That Zonko’s stuff is a hassle to clean out, and I’m going to be the one doing it... without magic,” Kaiden said when the girl attempted to pry his fingers off of her.

         “Alright, alright, alright. Hot-shot captain,” she said. Then she extended her hand downward to Turais, “Hi, Black. I’m Gwenyth Orpington and this dingbat’s best friend. Please call me Gwen.”

         “Nice to meet you, Gwen,” Turais stretched his hand up and shook her hand awkwardly. “And please call me Turais.”

         “Gladly, Turais,” Gwen said. “I see you hang around this Broomhead often enough. If you even need any dirt on this boy, you can find me anytime -”

         Kaiden jumped up to claw at Gwen as she crouched upwards and out of reach. “You better hope that Semi-Sticking Charm doesn’t wear off in the next few hours, Gwen, or you’re going to get it!”

         Kaiden gave a growl as Gwen stuck out her tongue and walked off. He snatched Turais’s hand and guided the two of them out into the field. In the distance, Turais could see nearly a dozen people milling around and hovering on their brooms. “So, please ignore everything that Gwen has just said -”

         “Who’s Gwen?” Turais said with a wink as they saw a set of parents enjoying some tea in the fields nearby.

         Kaiden looked at Turais blankly before he smirked and said dramatically, “There’s a good chap. Merlin knows how much I love you.”

         “Save it for your other conquests,” Turais laughed as Kaiden waved cheerily at the two adults.

         “Enjoy your tea, Mr and Ms Winterbottom,” he said loudly. The couple waved back with smiles on their faces.

         He turned back to Turais, “Anyhow, I meant to tell you that I will be going to Paris with you in a few weeks.”

         “What?” Turais exclaimed. “How?”

         “Oh! Uncle Fleamont is allowed to bring a plus one,” Kaiden said, “Usually, Aunt Euphemia goes with him. But this year, she will be with my mum at the annual International Conference for Witches in Spain because my mum is the Chairwitch this year!” 

         ‘Woah. I didn’t know how well-connected and philanthropic the Potters were,’ Turais thought.

         “But why did he not bring James along?” Turais asked as they started down a winding path through some shrubbery.

         “Because James hates this sort of thing,” Kaiden said breezily.

         As they reached the pitch, Turais saw several figures zooming after tossing a Quaffle around. One of them did a particularly tricky save after a dive for the grass.

         Fabian whistled and shouted, “Nice one, Shafiq!” 

         “What took you two so long?” Gideon smirked as he punched Kaiden’s shoulder. “Those four couldn’t wait for your lazy arses to get here and flew off on their own.”

         “Hey! I’m the birthday boy. I get to be fashionably late, you clot,” Kaiden said with his arms crossed.

          Turais snorted, “Yeah, he is late but definitely not fashionable.” 

          Kaiden shoved at Turais while Gideon laughed. “Good one, Turais -”

         “HEADS!” Someone shouted above. Everyone ducked as they realized the rogue scarlet ball was plummeting towards them, more specifically, directly at Turais. Just as Turais was about to deflect the ball with his magic, the wind sang past his ears as twigs filled his peripheries. Turais instinctively dropped on the grass as he braced for impact.

         But nothing came.

         Creaking open his eyelids, he held up his hand to block the sun as he squinted at the silhouette hovering just above him. He could see the soft, pink lips curling artistically as silent words formed. However, Turais drifted his eyes upwards as he zoomed in on the electrifying eyes that coloured more intensely blue than any picturesque ocean in the world. Turais knew she was undoubtedly one of the most captivating ladies he would ever meet in any lifetime. She was decidedly stunning - not only in a very classical, patrician sort of way - but playful and approachable as well. Her hair was a deep chestnut brown with streaks of platinum blond braided into an intricate pattern and resting on her left shoulder. Her eyes were warm as a hearth yet fiery with strength...

         And they were looking straight at him.

         Turais flushed at the sudden realization and immediately averted his gaze. He must have stared at her like a loon and embarrassed himself entirely before even the introductions. Then, he felt a pair of hands guiding him upwards and onto his feet.

         “That was a close call,” Kaiden’s voice rang like an alarm as the ambient sounds came roaring back into his world. Turais blinked as he realized the girl in front of him dismounted with the Quaffle held snugly by her side. Kaiden walked over and tore the Quaffle from her, and punched her on the arm. “How dare you abuse Ringo, Shafiq?!”

         The girl bit down on her lower lip adorably as her eyes glowed with mischief. She dropped her broom and started to smack the offending boy on both sides. Kaiden yelped as he tried to block the attack while he escaped behind Turais. The girl stopped in front of Turais, and her eyes flitted to him once again.

         Turais felt his breath hitch. And why was his heart pounding? He must’ve not calmed down from the shock yet, Turais surmised.

         “This mean lady here is the Catherine Shafiq that I mentioned before,” Kaiden gasped as Turais blinked again. “A complete bully, that’s what she is,” Kaiden huffed as the girl threatened another smack-down.

         Suddenly, he realized that he was supposed to introduce himself, and he hastily extended his hand, “Nice to meet you, Catherine. I’m Turais Black,” Turais said as he shook her hand. Her grip was sure and steady, Turais noted absently. “My favourite league player is also called Catherine.”

         Turais did not know why he offered such a useless piece of information, and he felt his cheeks warming up again as the girl laughed. It was like the silver bells chiming crisply in the summer winds to his ears.

         “I presume that person you speak of is Catherine Westermont,” the girl said her voice honey. “She is my idol and aspiration as well.”

         “Are... you a Seeker as well?” Turais asked. His voice felt shy to his ears, and he didn’t like that.

         “Yes -” Catherine said with a small smile.

         ‘Wow,’ Turais thought, impressed. He glanced down at the blue and silver robes. Not only was she a Quidditch player and Seeker, no less, she was also a Ravenclaw, so she likely had the intelligence to match her appearance as well. She was, well, frankly, perfect.

         “- Turais?” Turais suddenly realized he was staring at her like a Stupefy-ed idiot. In the same moment, he realized, in mortification, that he missed what she said.

         “Huh?” Turais grunted stupidly. She just asked him a question. What was the question?

         “I just asked why did you guess that I was a Seeker?” Catherine repeated.

         “Uh -” Turais scrambled for any coherent sentence that came to his mind. He blurted out to his mortification, “Because your hands were soft but firm -” Turais groaned internally. What kind of answer was that?!

         Now that his shame was complete, he must search for an escape. Turais busied himself with various plans that darted through his mind at a record pace. He was a three-minute run away from the nearest tree - no, too far. He could mount his broom and fly off - no, Muggles would spot him. He could blast the ground beneath him and bury himself - no, the blast radius of the spell would injure others.

         But Catherine’s laugh drew him back to reality. And Turais noted that the tone was not unkindly.

         “Oh, what a charming young man. I can see why so many girls fall for you.”

         “Oh no!” Turais flailed his hands. “I’m not interested in girls... I mean, I’m not interested in dating girls... yet... I’m much too young.”

         Great. Now, he sounded like an idiot and a prude. 

         ‘But why do you care if she thinks you’re a prude, Turais?’ Turais scolded himself as he tried to get a grip of himself again. ‘And you’re supposed to be a prude. You’re physically twelve, not even thirteen yet.’ That made him sober up in an instant.

         “Haha... I understand what you mean, Turais,” Catherine placed her hand on his shoulder. “No one your age is thinking about dating yet. But you will soon.”

         Turais scratched his head sheepishly. “I can’t believe we haven’t crossed paths yet - oh!” Turais saw the broom in her hands that was almost identical to his,” - You have a Nimbus 1701!”

         “Well spotted,” Catherine grinned as she rubbed a gleaming spot on the broomstick. “It’s my early present from my parents for my seventeenth birthday next month. This darling is mahogany with a birch-oak hybrid tail - a balance between faster ascension and increased stability. I also customized the tail trim for better aerodynamics.”

         “That’s amazing,” Turais gasped excitedly. “I see you also modified the handlebar grip with a titanium finish - way lighter than the platinum ones. You’ll need to let me have a turn on it some time!”

         Catherine clutched the broom close to her possessively and smirked, “I’ll have to think about it.”

         Turais groaned, but then he saluted with one arm, “I’ll be on my best behaviour, miss.”

         That elicited a beautiful laugh from Catherine, and Turais smiled involuntarily as well. It felt unusually good to put a smile on her face... and it shouldn’t, Turais reminded himself.

         “So... how have I never met you if you are on the Quidditch team?”

         “Oh no...” she said with a small chuckle. “I didn’t make it onto the starting line-up this year, unfortunately. Only the backup. So you wouldn’t have seen me even if we played each other.”

         “You should try out for next year again,” Turais said.

         Catherine smiled and said, “I’ll have to see my workload for my N.E.W.T. classes first.” Turais couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment while he nodded his head in agreement.

         “Of course, school comes first. But what are your aspirations?”

         “I want to become Head Auror, just like my father,” Catherine said proudly. “I also want to be the first female Head Auror so I can inspire other girls to join the Aurors. There are too few of us as it is.” Turais was swept away by the enthusiasm from the girl.

         “I’m sure you will be able to do it,” Turais said firmly. “I believe in you.”

         “Thank you, Turais,” Catherine said softly. “Not many people think that a woman can or should become Head Auror...”

         Turais scoffed, “Don’t listen to those sexist people. We have a female Minister. Why can’t we have a female Head Auror or female Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement? Whoever told you those things clearly are not worth your time or effort and -” Turais realized that Catherine was chuckling, and he suddenly became self-conscious, “- sorry for rambling...” 

         You’re more riled up about this than I am,” Catherine smiled as Turais blushed.

         “It’s just... I... know you can do it,” Turais finished lamely.

         Suddenly, a thought crashed into his mind.

         Turais realized that the girl he was looking at could potentially be the first female Head Auror in the past timeline.  He vaguely remembered seeing the portrait of an older lady with a semblance to Catherine’s demeanour beside Charlus’s official Head Auror portrait.

         Maybe Catherine was the future Head Auror.

         But did she survive the war?

         Turais drew a blank in his mind as a chilling wave of dread and uncertainty dampened his enthusiasm to undetectable levels. 

         There was a sudden pat on his back. Turais jolted back to attention as Kaiden said, “Oi, Turais. Stop turning on your charm in front of the prettiest girl in Hogwarts who puts part-Veela to shame.” He looked at Catherine as she chuckled. “Although I must say I’m disappointed, Catherine. I thought you would have mounted a better defense against Turais’s silver tongue. And that’s not even his best attribute.” Catherine laughed again.

         Turais retorted. “What other attributes do you speak of then?”

         “Hmm, I can’t say for sure,” Kaiden grinned cheekily. “I think they are all rather inferior to mine, so I took no notice.”

         “I disagree,” Catherine said as she stepped up and pushed at Kaiden’s chest gently but strong enough to cause the boy to stumble backwards. “I think Turais is much better than what I’ve seen of you. Turais, can you believe this boy left me in the middle of a date because Michael sprained his ankle or twisted his wrist or something -”

         “You have to stop holding those dates from two years ago against me!” Kaiden huffed. “And in my defense, I thought he was dying.”

         “A sprain is not a life-threatening injury,” Catherine returned. “But that was not even the worst part. This boy abandoned me in the middle of a snowstorm when we were halfway between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts after asking me to spare my outer cloak because ‘Michael’s hands felt chilly.’ It was the middle of January and one of the heaviest snowfalls in nearly a decade. Of course, his hands were chilly! I don’t kick up a fuss about most things, but I do want my cloak in the middle of a blizzard.”

         “Catherine - I’m so sorry -” Kaiden pleaded. “I wasn’t thinking straight back then - everything was a blur.”

         “Yeah, when it comes to Wilkins, everyone and everything falls to the wayside,” Catherine said with a grin. “Turais, I assure you I’m not trying to be petty. But my disastrous dates... yes, plural... with him were too memorable to ever forget.”

         Turais snorted as he nudged Kaiden. “Well, I see your ego is still well-intact despite all the put-downs you’ve experienced through life.” Kaiden scowled.

         “Catherine did a number on him from years ago, and now he’s all sexually repressed and emotionally stunted,” Amy Walters, the Gryffindor Keeper, teased as she ducked a direct blow from Kaiden’s fist. “Our collective birthday present to our eternal bachelor should be a wish that he finally gets some action.”

         The group laughed again as Kaiden gave an indignant shout of “Hey! Who says I’m not getting plenty of action already?!” For some reason, Turais decided to look at Michael and found his expression to be something that could only be described as jealousy. He turned back only to find Catherine mirroring his action. Their eyes met, and she rolled her eyes at the Slytherin captain. Turais felt that she was pointing out an inside joke that he didn’t understand.

         “Ooooo! “Yolanda Fields, the Gryffindor Seeker, said. “Care to share who’s the lucky... or in this case, unlucky lady?”

         Kaiden leaned forward into her face and said with a smirk, “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

         “Yeah, that’s because you kiss and show. But then there’s nothing to show,” Catherine said dryly as the group roared in amusement.

         “Why am I always on the butt end of every joke?!” Kaiden whined.

         “Because you’re easy to make fun of,” Georgina Findley, the Gryffindor Chaser, laughed. “And it’s part of the job description of a Quidditch captain.”

         “Michael never gets this treatment, though,” Kaiden pointed out as Michael’s expression cleared up instantly as the attention fell on him.

         “Because Wilkins is broody and scary,” Gideon said as Michael scowled once again. “And you, on the other hand, are not even threatening, honey-boo.”

         “I’m scary!” Kaiden bared his teeth in a supposedly menacingly fashion that looked downright ridiculous. He gave up the act and said, “Alright, alright! I’ll tell you who the lucky lady is... It’s my dear Quaffle - Ringo,” Kaiden said to a sea of groaning.

         “That’s just because you catch your Quaffle with your face instead of your hands, you wanker,” Rea groaned.

         “I’ll have you know that I’m the top-scoring Chaser this year,” Kaiden retorted. “My catches are the very definition of perfection.”

         “Then our ma is the Muggle Queen of England,” Fabian shouted as Kaiden pounced on him.

         Michael cleared his throat and clapped his hands together to address the crowd, “Enough of this horse-playing. Let’s get the Quaffle moving. Form two groups!”

         “Wilkins is not allowed to be on the same team as Kaiden!” someone yelled as the rest of them chanted in agreement.

         “Fine!” Michael growled. “Kaiden and I will be team leaders then!”

         After splitting into two teams, the large group started a full-team Quidditch match without the Seeker position. Therefore, Turais played one of the Chasers on Kaiden’s team.

         “Woah!” Kaiden barely avoided a head injury from the Quaffle that was thrown at him with immense force.

         Suddenly, Michael appeared by Kaiden’s side when Turais swore he was at the opposite end of the pitch just a second ago. Clutching his face, Michael examined his face and asked, “Are you okay, Kaiden?”

         “I... I’m fine,” Kaiden gasped as he yanked his face from Michael’s hands and put a few feet of air between them. He looked out of breath and completely flustered.

         “Get your act together, Prewett!” Michael roared. “Stop lobbing it like a Bludger!”

         “Sorry!” Gideon shouted as he flew away to avoid Michael’s wrath. Turais continued to observe them until someone shouted his name. Turais tore his gaze towards the commotion as he joined into the fray once again.

         “Rea, top-down,” Turais yelled as he flew up to intercept the nimble Mondale. Rea veered down and blocked her path as she veered downwards in avoidance and straight into Turais. He punched the scarlet ball out of her grasp and caught it in one arm. Flashing her a quick grin, he shouted, “Thanks for the delivery!”

         Turais zoomed towards the opposite end as he eyed Catherine to his left and Fields to his right. He glimpsed an opening to the left flank and shouted, “Shafiq.”

         The girl immediately dipped as Turais flew over to drop the ball into her possession. He deftly avoided a grab from Gideon as he eyed the girl’s position. Just as he was about to pass, her eyes widened as Turais felt a shadow above him.

         “Eyes up here, Black!” Fabian’s smirk crowded his vision as he kicked the Quaffle out of his arm and chased after it instead.

         “Sorry!” Turais said as Catherine waved the apology away with a smile.

         He turned back to the fray just to see someone - Rea - swat a free-falling Quaffle away with her broom and out of Kaiden’s grasp.

         “Watch Ringo fly!” Walters chanted as the stray Quaffle traveled through the air and closed in on the boundary of the property. Kaiden and Catherine chased after it with fervour.

         “Why is the Quaffle called Ringo?” Turais asked Walters after he flew up to her.

         “It’s named after some Muggle band that broke up,” Walters said distractedly. “He named his Bludgers and Snitch after the other three. Kaiden’s a bit quirky like that.”

         “Oh... I see.”

         The match concluded with a victory for Kaiden and Turais’s team.

         “You Chased spectacularly, Turais,” Kaiden said as he flew up next to Turais. “You should consider Chasing if you’re ever tired of Seeking.”

         “And he will not be considering your proposition at all,” Michael responded quickly.

         “Michael, you must admit his potential to become a brilliant Chaser,” Kaiden gasped dramatically. “Do not limit your imagination or his potential!”

         “You sound like Trelawney,” Michael replied blandly as Kaiden rolled his eyes backwards and reached out his trembling arms in a mock impression of the Divination teacher.

         “Bro...oaden your mind, Michael,” Kaiden rasped. “Soar... through your dense, thick skull...”

         Michael pressed his lips, unimpressed, as Turais chuckled.

Chapter 32: On the Matters of Potions, Hearts, and Time (revised)

Notes:

Hey everyone,

I hope your quarantine lives are going relatively well.

As April approaches, exams, term papers, and my thesis are all due with the upcoming weeks (apparently COVID-19 cancelled most things but not due dates). So, my updates will be every two weeks from now until further notice.

With that, here's a new update for you!

- ravenclawblues 2020-03-26

***

 

A big thank you to Erina96 for helping with the editing of my French usage in this chapter.

 

***

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ON THE MATTERS OF POTIONS, HEARTS, AND TIME


 

 

July 25, 1971 (Sunday)

 

LORD DENNIS PRINCE DIES AT 103

by Demelza Keats

The Man with Mixed Legacy Succeeded by His Son, Hardwin Prince

 

Lord Dennis George Prince was found unconscious at his residency late yesterday afternoon by his house-elf. After being rushed to St. Mungo's Hospital, he has been declared dead due to natural causes.

Lord Prince left behind a mixed legacy where he aligned with Dark families for the majority part of his early career. In particular, he was famously recognized as the commissioner of the anonymously published book called the "Pure-Blood Directory". This book, which was widely believed to be penned by Cancankerus Nott (although Lord Prince never confirmed nor denied the claim), was arguably the most influential piece of writing on the 20th century and its ideas have shaped the ideology of entire generations on blood purity after its publication.

However, after Grindelwald's revolution, Lord Prince had seemingly experienced a change of hearts where he severed his relationships with his former allies and joined the Light families, proclaiming that "[he] was a misguided young man with a self-consuming thirst to prove [himself] in the worst means possible". He had frequently said that the publication of the "Pure-Blood Directory" was a "grave mistake" and that if he could time-travel back into the past, he would "smack the sense into [his] younger self with a Beater's Bat". 

While one might think Lord Prince had denounced his blood purity ideologies after his official split from the Dark families, a domestic affair had, once again, catapulted him into the spotlight. The disowning of his daughter, Eileen Prince, came on the heels of her marriage to a Muggle named Tobias Snape. Many believed that Lord Prince disowned his daughter due to her marriage to a Muggle, but Lord Prince had vehemently denied those claims. It had been a largely publicized affair where he came under immense pressure from the magical community to retract his decision, but he never bowed to those pressures.

After that event, Lord Prince has slowly retreated from the public eye as his son and heir, Master Prince, started acting as his father's proxy in the chamber more frequently. The last time Lord Prince set foot in the Ministry was eight years ago.

Hardwin Prince had been described by his peers as a fiery, ill-tempered man that resembled his father in his youth. While he had yet to break ranks from the Light alliance on any vote, his allies worry that he might soon become an opponent. Their fear is not unfounded as Hardwin Prince has been increasingly vocal in his criticisms against Ministry-backed policies. In such a politically charged chamber where neither side could afford to lose a single vote, this presented a terrifying prospect for the Light alliance...

 

***

 

         The week-long International Symposium for Potions had finally arrived as Orion and Turais made their way to the Ministry International Portkey concourse with Fleamont and Kaiden Potter. Minutes later, their Portkey to France was activated as they spun out of existence.

         Turais landed flat on his bottom - no surprises there - as he looked around the room. They were in a circular chamber damp with protective runes that were buried within the thick walls. The walls extended vertically and, seemingly, without end with only source of light from the small circular opening far above their heads. Dim rays filtered through the metallic shimmers in the air into this small enclosure, filling the room with a turquoise sheen that was reflected off the brick walls. It felt as if they were tiny creatures dwelling at the bottom of a well.

         Suddenly, there was a quiet ‘ping’ to signal the start of an announcement.

         "Bienvenue en France. Vous êtes arrivés au Ministère des Affaires Magiques de France," A melodious female voice rang above their heads. "Veuillez passer à l'Agence des services frontaliers de France. Nous nous réjouissons de votre visite et nous vous souhaitons un agréable voyage."

         It seemed as though multilingual announcements were not popularized yet compared to thirty years later.

         “You’d think they would put an English translation since this is a Portkey lobby for arrivals from Britain,” Kaiden grumbled.

         Turais was glad that he managed to learn conversational French as part of his Auror training. It was rusty from the lack of use, but Turais had managed to understand everything that the voice said. 

         “She just said, ‘Welcome to France. You have arrived at the French Ministry of Magic. Please proceed to the French Border Agency. We look forward to your visit and have a pleasant journey,’” Turais supplied as he dusted off his palms.

         “Well, well, well. Look at you and your fancy français,” Kaiden teased as he motioned to poke Turais in his side. “I can see the girls swooning over you even more now, and I didn’t even think it was humanly possible.”

         “I didn’t learn French to impress girls.”

         “Huh, is that right?” 

         “Whatever, Kaiden,” Turais grumbled.

         “Aw... I’m just teasing you,” Kaiden said as he swung his arm around Turais’s shoulder. “But you know, as much as I would love to learn French, I feel stupid learning it because I feel like a duck most of the time.”

         “How so?”

         “I’d just be saying, ‘Quoi? Quoi? Quoi?’ (What?)”

         Turais rolled his eyes just as a door materialized in front of them and swung open. The group slowly filed out into a wide hallway that led to customs. They were quickly joined by a steady stream of other travelers emerging from their arrival Ports.

         “When did you learn French?” Orion looked at Turais with a hint of surprise and suspicion. Turais started. 

         "Uh... uh... from Stefanie Smethwyck. Her mother’s side is the French Lefévres,” Turais lied. “She offered to tutor me when I expressed interest.”

         Orion hummed thoughtfully, but it seemed as though he accepted the explanation.

         Along the long stretch of carpeted floors, they walked past multiple French law enforcement officers with hairless and ferocious-looking black patrol felines. Their lidless eyes shone in fluorescent blue as they eyed the passers-by and bared their sharp, pointy teeth seemingly at random.

         After walking past a second officer-creature pair, Kaiden sidled up beside Turais and whispered, “Do you have any clue as to what those cat-looking things are?”

         “They are Matagots,” Turais said as they approached another pair up ahead. “Magical creatures native to France that are used for security purposes in the Ministry. They are completely harmless unless provoked, so just remain calm, and you will be fine.”

         The Matagot of a particularly stern-looking officer eyed them suspiciously. Then, it approached Kaiden, who immediately tensed up at the unwanted attention and hissed at him dangerously. Kaiden let out a mortified squeak and shrunk away from it before the officer whistled at the creature and said, “Calmez-toi. (Calm down.)”

         The Matagot gave him a final stare before answering its companion’s beckoning and continued down to terrorize another unfortunate victim.

         After a relatively quick security check, they passed through customs and arrived at the Portkey concourse.

         “Oooh... wow...” Kaiden exclaimed breathlessly, his eyes wide in awe as they walked into an enormous circular room. Turais was in awe as well, as it was his first time revisiting this place in years.

         The Portkey concourse was merely one of a series of interconnected domes that formed the underground French Ministry. They were all connected to their adjacent domes via tunnels composed of patina-colored arches. It was evident that the architect was heavily influenced by the Art Nouveau style of curving, twirling designs and the harmonious marriage of metals and glass that was imprinted on the flourishes and the balustrades throughout the complex. Around the room stood marbled statues in magnificent glory as well. Kaiden immediately rushed forward towards the large opening and peered down at the bottom level. There were desks arranged in a circular fashion around the perimeter as people sat on the chairs in the centre. Clerks were milling around the peripheries pushing carts stacked with towers of documents into hallways that extended outwards. Above their heads was a massive oval dome that masterfully interlaced metal borders and glass panes where soft, turquoise light filtered through. Celestial charts and German Renaissance-inspired drawings of magical creatures were projected from a rotating luminous orb suspended in the centre of the room.

         “The French Ministry is so beautiful,” Kaiden gasped as he looked around with a dazed expression.

         “Bien sûr! (Of course!)” A beautiful woman in Ministry uniform said as she walked up to them. “The French Ministry is widely considered as the Best Designed Ministry in the Wizarding World since it was re-designed for the first time in 1799. Since then, it has undergone multiple renovations and resulted in this masterful blend of various architectural styles spanning the centuries.

         "My name is Blanche Bouchard and I am the secretary to the Monsieur Pelletier, the Head of Le Comité de Recherche sur les Potions or the Potions Research Committee. I will act as your personal guide for this week."

         “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Orion said as he shook her hands. Fleamont stepped up and did the same.

         The lady smiled warmly, “If you may follow me, I will bring you on a brief tour around Paris.”

         They arrived at another circular room that was similar to the Portkey concourse where they boarded three of a dozen identical black Ministry-issued cars that were parked in the centre of the room. As they were settled into their seats, Turais was surprised to see that Kaiden and Charlus were adept with buckling up their seat belts, unlike Orion, who required a demonstration by the secretary. Frankly, the fact that the two Potters were relatively well-versed in Muggle culture continued to destabilize Turais’s expectations of the purebloods. As he shook off the cognitive dissonance, Turais looked around and realized that there was no ramp that led to the street levels. He had never traveled via this method in France before, so even he did not know what to expect. His question was soon answered as the car vibrated. Turais discovered that their entire car was being lifted upwards by a platform as the Ministry workers on the ground slowly shrunk into the size of milling ants.

         Above them, the ceiling of the doom opened up as green and brown tendrils extended downwards in a syncopated dance, twirling and twisting around them.

         “Those are metal strands -” Kaiden pointed out, his face plastered to the car window.” - no, they are tree roots - wait, they are both!” Kaiden gasped with delight as Turais chuckled. While they were still ascending, the strands wove a web of hybrid material as they multiplied and thickened until everything was obscured from view. After a few more seconds, the upward movement stopped as car engines roared alive. The cocoon of green and brown receded downwards as Turais noticed they were in an empty square surrounded by buildings. The other two cars were present metres away.

         “Place de Saint-Thomas d’Aquin” was inscribed on one of the metal plaques attached to the building.

         "This is Hôtel de l'Artillerie," Blanche said as she pointed at the tall structure next to them. "Le symposium international des potions or International Symposium for Potions will be held beneath these buildings. Renaud, démarrez s'il vous plaît. (Renaud, drive please.)"

         They drove past many of the famous Muggle sites, such as the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. Kaiden was completely taken by everything he saw.

         “How do you think Muggles achieve all this without magic? They have truly exceptional minds!” Kaiden exclaimed at one point as he pointed at the Eiffel tower. “I wonder why we can’t build something remotely similar to all this?”

         “First, it’s likely due to the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy prohibiting the very idea you just mentioned,” Turais said. “Second, it would logistically take a lot of magic to conceal such an enormous landmark, let alone the effort to prevent and divert Muggles and their transportation safely away from those structures. That’s why so many Ministries, such as the British, French, and American ones, extend underground instead of skywards.”

         “Well, isn’t that a shame?” Kaiden asked rhetorically. “If only we could combine magic and Muggle technologies... wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

         None of the adults in the car responded to the question.

         “Well, I suppose there will be many hurdles to overcome before that becomes remotely feasible,” Turais said diplomatically.

         Kaiden nodded at his words and sighed, “I still think it is a missed opportunity, but... oh well.”

         The cars turned onto the Champs-Elysées. As they approached the Arc de Triomphe, the car headed straight towards the structure instead of following the traffic and driving around it. Just as they were about to reach the curb where a large crowd of tourists was taking photos, Renaud, the chauffeur, pressed a button on the dashboard. Through the windshield, Turais could see that there was a slight shimmer in the air directly up ahead as he drove through it. Suddenly, Turais realized that the Arc de Triomphe had disappeared and was replaced by a large walking district where people milled around with their purchased items. However, he noticed that the nearby stores were selling... Potions ingredients and owls? The store beside it was selling broomsticks and Quidditch robes. Confused, Turais looked around and found that the Arc de Triomphe was now behind them.

         Kaiden immediately cranked down the window as the bustling and excited noises of the Parisian crowd entered the car.

         Turais caught the sight of a little girl in a petite woolen coat and red beret. She was standing on her toes as she pressed her face against the window counter of a toy store. “Maman! Maman! Je peux avoir un balai pour mon cadeau, Maman! (Mum! Mum! Can I have a broom as a present? Mum!) “She tugged at the linked hand of her mother, who was chatting with the florist in the neighbouring shop as she purchased a bouquet.

         "Tiens-toi tranquille, Adèle. Compris? (Be still, Adele; do you understand?) “Her mother said in a warning tone.

         "Mais, Maman, je - (But, mum, I -)"

         “Ça suffit, (That’s enough)” The woman nodded at the florist before she strolled off with the little girl and out of view. 

         “Welcome to Montmartre Place Cachée, the largest Wizarding shopping district in France and in Europe,” Blanche announced. “The British equivalent is your Diagon Alley.”

         “Woah... but yours is five times nicer and ten times larger,” Kaiden gasped. “Will we have a chance to walk around today?”

         “Not today, unfortunately,” Blanche said apologetically as her notepad floated up to her face and flipped to their itinerary. “You have quite a filled timetable for the next few days. But you have the last two days of the week completely free. So perhaps we can arrange a trip for you when Monsieur Black is at Maître Flamel’s house.”

         “That would be most agreeable,” Fleamont said. “I’m sure Kaiden would be fed up with all the - in his words - stuffy robes and boring lectures.”

         “Give me more credit than that,” Kaiden huffed. “I’m way better than James.”

         “We’ll see about that,” Fleamont said with a knowing glint.

 

***

         

         Turais and Damocles were walking towards the auditorium where the older man was about to deliver his presentation when they heard an enthusiastic shout.

         “Mr Belby! Turais! It is so good to see you both!” Tiberius McLaggen, the Ravenclaw graduate whom Turais met at the Slug Club Christmas Party during his first year, walked over to greet them. Reporters were standing around them with their cameras ready as they continued to snap photos of the stars of the day. Despite the jovial tone, the man’s cheeriness looked terribly fake, as though there was a mask plastered over his features. His hair was immaculately styled, yet, the rest of his attire looked deliberately rugged. His suit was proper, yet there were slight blemishes to it that struck Turais as odd and unnatural, as though it was trying to make a statement.

         “Junior Under-Secretary McLaggen,” Damocles greeted as he shook the man’s hand. They paused momentarily as the camera bulbs went off. “It is an honour to have you introduce us today.”

         “Oh, the honour is mine, my friend.” McLaggen flashed him a quick smile before he turned around to face Turais. “I will readily admit that I always had a fascination with Potions.”

         “Oh? Do you?” Turais asked.

         “Of course, Turais!” He released a hearty laugh as he placed a friendly clasp of his hand on Turais’s shoulder and shook his hand. Turais was surprised by the act of familiarity displayed by the man as they had not even exchanged a word prior to today. However, Turais knew it was all a publicity stunt for his own advancement. None of the actions exuded the warmth and congeniality that were normally apparent. “That’s why I’m here today. I’m the Ministry representative for the Potions Association.”

         “What is your particular interest in the field?” Turais smiled tensely as he shook the man’s firm, cold hand while facing the continual flashes of camera lights. Turais released his grip but found the man continuing to hold onto his hand steely.

         “Oh... a bit of this and that, you know. I love them all. But enough about me. Today is all about you. You are such an inspiration for our young, an exemplary case,” McLaggen said, smiling brilliantly at the cameras. “I wished more of us could be just like you. The world will be in a much better state than now.”

         “I cannot take all the credit, Mr McLaggen,” Turais said politely. “I had a lot of support from Damocles, namely, and also immense emotional support from my family.”

         “Don’t sell yourself short, Turais,” McLaggen said as he finally released Turais’s hand from his grip. The boy’s hand was numb from the lack of blood circulation.

        “And on that note, Mr McLaggen,” Turais asked, “I was just wondering about the Wolfsbane Potion and the approximate time of its approval. Are there any doubts or roadblocks that are stymieing its progress? Damocles and I would be willing to assist you with any questions or concerns the Ministry might have.”

         “Oh, I’m just a lowly newcomer. I don’t know much about that,” McLaggen said.

         “This potion is very near and dear to my heart, as you might know.”

         “I’m sure it is,” McLaggen said placatingly as he patted the boy’s shoulder and smiled at the camera. “I’ve heard that you have applied for the position of British Youth Representative. I would just like you to know that you have an ally in me behind your nomination.”

         “Do you even have a vote on the selection panel?” Turais asked questioningly.

         McLaggen’s eyes widened at something behind Turais and said urgently, “Oh, duty calls. I will see you shortly. Make Britain proud!”

         The man disappeared quickly into another crowd of reporters, abandoning Turais and Damocles.

         “Is he a friend of yours?” Damocles asked.

         “He’s not, I assure you,” Turais said darkly. “I don’t think he took NEWT Potions either despite his evident interest in the subject.”

         “Politicians,” Damocles said understandingly as he observed the retreating reporters. “They take advantage of you and then discard you.” 

 

***

 

         “... and this concludes my presentation,” Damocles finished as the entire room filled with international visitors stood up and gave him a standing ovation.

         “Brilliantly done,” McLaggen said amidst the torrent of applause as he shook their hands. “You two have made Britain very proud today.”

         “Thank you,” Damocles said happily, still on a high from the presentation.

         McLaggen’s eyes were trained on Turais as he gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Let us talk more after the questions.” He stepped up to the lectern and addressed the room, “Everyone, we now have time for a few questions. Yes - let’s start off with you, madam.” 

         “Reporter from The Wizarding Inquirer speaking,” the lady spoke with her wand pointed at her throat - a Sonorous Charm. Her notepad and quill were floating mid-air and ready to start writing down his response. “So, how do you anticipate this potion will impact or aid the werewolf community?”

         “I think once the Potion receives its final approval, it will make a huge difference in the quality of life for one of our most marginalized groups in society. Of course, the invention of this Potion would not solve all the sociopolitical issues of stigma against people affected by lycanthropy, but I hope this will be a positive and much-needed first step in the right direction,” Damocles responded.

         Then, a veiled woman stood up and said with a shaky voice, “I... don’t have a question... but I... I would like to say... to Mr Belby and... Mr Black, that... I am so grateful for your talents and heart. I... am a mother to my sweet, lovely boy who was bitten by a werewolf when he was only a toddler. Every full moon, he would be in so much pain and agony for his transformation and afterwards, he would be bloody and bruised. And it’s not just the physical pain, but it was the mental aspect as well. After every transformation, I could see the pain and sadness in his eyes and how his spirit shattered over and over and over and over again. And I... I... could do nothing but to hug him and be strong for him. But every time I saw him suffer, I felt a knife twisting deep into my bleeding heart. And for the past several years, I thought this was how my life would be forever.

         “When I first saw the article, I thought it was a lie. I just couldn’t believe it. It was like a dream come true for our family. Mr Belby and Mr Black, you have given me, my husband, and my son hope. So, so, so much hope. When I first told my son about this, we just hugged each other and cried for the entire day because we just couldn’t believe this was happening. And now, after every transformation, he would look up at the Potions journal cover that featured your article and portrait that he framed on the wall, and I would see that hopeful smile on his face. Because he knew that very soon, he would no longer be in pain. And I am sure that I am speaking for a lot of patients and their family as well. This was all because of you and your excellent work.

         “You have touched and changed so many lives for the better already, and the Potion has not even been approved yet. I cannot imagine what changes this would bring to us when it is approved. Thank you so much... you have my eternal gratitude... just thank you.”

         Turais felt his heart squeeze tightly, and his nose soured. Several members in the audience also sniffed emotionally at her story.

         Damocles responded with utmost sincerity, “Thank you for sharing your story with us, madam. I am delighted to have you here with us today. Your family and all the other families that are suffering from this affliction are the reasons why Mr Black and I worked tirelessly for this Potion. It is not a perfect solution, but it is a much-needed stopgap as we seek out even better solutions. We will continue to work tirelessly until that ultimate goal is reached. Thank you.”

 

***

 

         Soon, they were on their last day in Paris. The Potters elected to spend their day at Montmartre Place Cachée, per Kaiden’s request, while the Blacks travelled to the heart of the oldest part of Paris for an audience with the famed alchemist, Nicolas Flamel.

         Now, Turais and Orion arrived at the doorstep of a decrepit, stone building. Except for the faded, golden symbol on a wooden plaque above the entrance, the rest of the structure was grey with discolouration and covered in dust. It looked as if the place had not been tended to for centuries.

         The messenger witch tapped her wand on the door, and it creaked open. She turned and said, “Master Black and Master Turais Black, if you would please follow me.”

         The father and son walked through a medieval-looking room with odd-looking runes and tapestries hanging on the walls. He also walked by various large instruments used in alchemy before they climbed the rickety wooden staircase up to the second floor.

         “Mr Black,” the witch said as she opened one of several doors on the landing, “Please wait for Master Flamel here.”

         “How about my father?” Turais asked.

         “Master Flamel gave explicit instructions that he would like to meet with you alone,” the messenger witch said firmly. “Your father will be waiting in the room next door.”

         “Of course,” Orion agreed readily as he gave Turais an encouraging nod.

         Turais entered the room as the door closed behind him and discovered it was a large study with rows of bookshelves that were completely filled with books. In the centre of the shelves-lined room, there were two armchairs and a table in between them. Turais scanned the room and found himself staring at a particular bookshelf that seemed to be tucked away in shadows of the heavy velvet curtains and hidden from the filtered sunlight flowing into the room. It was like an optical illusion that Turais would have almost missed, except it was somehow capturing Turais’s attention. Intrigued, he wandered over and started to read the spines of the books.

         The grandfather clock suddenly chimed one reverberating toll. Something stirred deep within Turias’s core. Then, another toll penetrated to a similar depth once more as a gentle buzz started to resonate within him. Turais unconsciously reached his hand up to massage the centre of his chest. The clock chimed the third and final time as the unfamiliar sensation flooded to a maximum. He clutched his robe and turned to investigate the origin of the sound when he found an apparition in marble-grey standing squarely in the centre of the room. But then, he realized the “apparition” was not an apparition at all.

         “Master Flamel,” Turais gasped out, attempting to suppress the trembling in his voice as the sensation ebbed. “It is a pleasure to be able to meet with you today.”

         “Master Black,” Flamel said softly in return. Turais put his hand behind him once again as the episode of discomfort ended as abruptly as it came.

         “Pardon me, Master Flamel,” Turais said politely. “My father is Master Black.”

         “It is not the British title that I speak of.”

         Turais frowned. The title of Master specifically applied to the heirs of the Lords in the Wizengamot and those who’ve earned their Mastery in a trade, such as wand-making or Alchemy. If Flamel was not alluding to the first definition, then...

         “I have yet to complete my education at Hogwarts, let alone my Mastery. I am no Master.”

         “Is that so?” Flamel said as his inky black pupils scanned the boy. Then, he leaned back into his chair and breathed out, “In fact, neither am I. To be a Master implies that I have acquired full command or knowledge of something. But it would be prideful and, quite frankly, wrong to think that one could ever fully understand anything. But of course, as with all things in life, there are notable exceptions...”

         Turais felt taken apart and stripped raw under Flamel’s omnipotent-like gaze. He had an inexplicable sense of vulnerability that he had never felt prior, which unnerved him a great deal. Fortunately, his gaze moved on from him back to his library collection.

         “Pray, which part of my book collection caught your fancy?” Flamel asked as he waved his hand at the numerous bookshelves.

         “The books on the subject of time were quite intriguing,” Turais said, his voice deceptively calm to his ears, as he pointed at where he was moments ago.

         “Indeed,” Flamel said, his voice akin to a whisper that Turaid strained to hear. “Most people tend to overlook it until they find themselves in desperate need of it.”

         “Do you mean knowledge or something entirely different?” Turais inquired.

         Flamel gave Turais a small, indecipherable smile in response. He then raised his arms and gestured to the seats in the centre of the room. “Please sit. We shall talk more over some refreshments.”

         Turais complied as Flamel scuttled to the two armchairs. Turais noted that the frail, old man shuffled his feet noisily in a form that resembled something in between a hop and a run. He picked up a silver handbell on the table and rang it. After they had occupied their respective seats, a couple of knocks sounded at the door. Then, the lady who escorted Turais into the house entered the door with a pot of tea, two cups, two sets of plates and cutlery along with a plate of assorted pastries upon the silver platter. She laid them down on the table between them soundlessly and left.

         “Are you well-read on the subject of time?” Flamel asked as he started pouring tea into the two teacups.

         “I can’t say that I am,” Turais said diplomatically. “But I am most certainly interested in the subject. From what I have seen briefly, you have quite the collection on this subject. Are you particularly passionate about it yourself?”

         “Passionate, no,” Flamel said as he handed over the saucer shakily - so much that the cup and saucer made a series of tinkering sounds. Turais quickly received the saucer with both hands in fear of spillage. “Intrigued. Interested. Those words would be more apt,” Flamel said. Then, as though it was an afterthought, he added, “One might find it difficult to maintain passion after being in the same company for such a long duration as mine.”

         “Ah, I stand corrected. But there are some tomes so old and so rare. I doubt anyone except a serious collector should find themselves in possession of one.”

         “They were from an old acquaintance.”

         “Your friend must be incredible. Have I heard of this dear friend of yours?”

         “Heard of? Most definitely. Know of? Certainly. But understand? Unlikely,” Flamel said musingly as he blew softly into the rising mist. Turais found him completely off-kilter from the exchange. Flamel was speaking riddles to his ears.

         “With such an invaluable collection gifted to you, I am sure that person values your friendship in kind.”

         “It’s not a gift, merely a loan. I have been indebted with no means to repay it except for my service... which reminds me. I have heard from this dear friend that you are currently applying for a Time-Turner,” Flamel said as he stared imploringly at Turais. “Why is that?”

         Turais was thrown off by the sudden change of topic. But then he found himself frustrated when he remembered that Flamel and Dumbledore were close friends. Was Dumbledore trying to use Flamel as a way to interrogate him?

         Using a measured tone, Turais replied, “I would like to take additional courses to further enrich my education.”

         “Ah...” Flamel hummed thoughtfully with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Let us attempt the question again. Why do you seek the Time-Turner?” 

         “I have personal considerations.”

         “A more truthful answer, yet we move no closer to the truth. Intriguing, how the human mind works,” Flamel commented airily without a hint of admonishment. “But no matter. What I would like to say is that you should reconsider your application.”

         “Sir, the application had already been sent off.”

         “Do not avoid the crux of the matter. Sending off the application is not the end. You may rescind your application. You may turn down the object when it arrives. There is a way if there is a will on your part.”

         Turais stayed silent. He felt a bit miffed that Dumbledore’s machinations extended this far into his life. 

         Flamel looked at Turais with a knowing glint as he placed down the cup delicately. Then, he folded his hands into an imploring gesture. “I have seen many, many things throughout my life. When one reaches a certain overripe age such as mine, one tends to gain insight... perspective into grander questions. Please consider my proposition carefully. One should not meddle with time needlessly, especially when one occupies an exalted station such as yours.”

         “I shall consider the matter very carefully,” Turais said solemnly. However, he doubted that his mind would be changed.

         As if he had anticipated Turais’s non-committal response, Flamel sighed with a private nod to himself, “Very well. It was nice meeting you. I eagerly await for the next time when our paths cross again.”

         “Likewise.”

 

***

 

         The rest of summer passed by with daily Quidditch matches and visits to the local park. In the evenings, they read books or played games such as Wizarding chess and Gobstones. Everything was blissfully calm. However, as the end of August slowly approached. Turais could not help but feel that Sirius was becoming more and more withdrawn.

         “Hey, Sirius,” Turais said after he knocked on Sirius’s bedroom door a few days before they were due to board the Hogwarts Express together.

         “Hey, Turais,” Sirius said as he gathered some parchments together and hid them in the drawer. Turais was able to glimpse the words “glitter bomb” and “prank” on one of the pages. He grinned as he settled down on the bed. Sirius turned back to face Turais. “What’s going on?”

         “I just wanted to check on you,” Turais said. “Ever since father and I returned from Paris, I couldn’t help but notice that you were a bit quieter than usual. Is there something on your mind that you would like to share?”

         Sirius hesitated as his eyes darted side to side.

         “Actually... there is something minor... that is bothering me...” Sirius said.

         “I’m listening,” Turais said.

         “So... I was wondering if...” Sirius paused, “... How being in Slytherin is like?”

         “The common room, as you know, is beneath the Black Lake, so it is mostly dim and wet. As for the people, they are all very ambitious, driven, and competitive. Why do you ask?”

         Sirius nodded at the information and swallowed heavily.

         “What if... I mean... I do not like to be in Slytherin?”

         “Do you want to be sorted into Gryffindor?” Turais asked. Sirius looked up at Turais, shocked.

         “Uhm... maybe?”

         Turais held Sirius’s hand and said softly, “Listen, Sirius. I don’t care where you are sorted into as long as you are happy. That and also the fact that you genuinely want to be sorted there and not because someone is forcing you.”

         “It’s not about James,” Sirius said as Turais looked at him doubtfully. Sirius waved his hands frantically and said, “I’m being honest, Turais. I just... I mean... Slytherin doesn’t sound fun... I mean, I like you and Alex... but the rest of them... I guess it won’t be too bad if you are there with me...”

         “Sirius...” Turais said firmly. “Your happiness is most important to me. You being a Gryffindor or Slytherin, or Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff will never change that.”

         “But if I’m sorted anywhere but in Slytherin... father would be so mad...” Sirius said glumly. “And Grandfather might force Father to disown me...”

         “Listen, Sirius. Father loves you so very much. He will not disown you over something like this.”

         “Won’t he?”

         “I’m sure.”

         Sirius searched Turais’s eyes for the truth. Then, he all but threw himself into Turais’s arms. “Thank you, Turais. I am so glad you are my older brother. You are the best brother ever. “

         Turais chuckled as he ruffled Sirius’s long, curly hair. “Where else would I be?”

         “Dunno? Maybe in some other universe being someone else’s awesome brother?”

         “There’s nowhere else I want to be but here,” Turais said. And he meant every word of it.

         After chatting with Sirius, Turais decided to stop by his father’s room.

         “Father. May I speak with you for a moment?” Turais asked as he stood at the doorway to the master bedroom.

         “What’s the matter, Turais?” Orion said as he continued to pen a letter. Turais walked into the room, closed the door, and sat in the chair beside the writing desk.

         “I would -”

         “Oh, sorry, Turais. Before you start -” Orion interrupted as he pulled open a drawer on his desk and searched through it. Turais gasped as Orion pulled out the signed permission form to visit Hogsmeade.

         “Why did you not ask me for this, Turais?”

         “I... I didn’t think you would want me to go...” Turais said softly.

         “You are such a responsible child, Turais,” Orion said with a sigh. “You are quite correct. I really don’t want you outside of Hogwarts. But then, I don’t think I should rob you of an essential part of your school experience.”

         “Thank you, father,” Turais whispered as he took the piece of parchment.

         “So... what do you want to talk about today?”

         “I would like to talk about Sirius,” Turais said softly. Orion stilled for a short while and then sighed.

         “I have a feeling that I know what you would like to discuss,” Orion said neutrally, “it is about his Sorting, correct?”

         Turais was surprised. “Y...yes, father.”

         “I was planning on talking to you about it in a few days,” Orion said. “Once he gets Sorted into Slytherin, I fear he would instantly be an outcast. I was hoping that with you there, he would at least avoid complete alienation.”

         Turais’s heart dropped. Well. So much for the hopes of an easy conversation.

         “Of course, father. Sirius is my brother, and Alex loves him dearly. We will make sure he is comfortable if he places in Slytherin.”

         Orion frowned after hearing the end of the sentence. Turais winced internally.

         “What are you implying, Turais?” Orion looked genuinely confused.

         “I’m implying that….” Turais’s voice turned incredibly quiet, “... that Sirius might not be Sorted into Slytherin -”

         “Of course, he is going to be sorted into Slytherin. What sort of nonsense is that?” Orion barked out a nervous chuckle as his eyes flashed with uncertainty.

         “You know there’s a possibility, and it’s quite high as well,” said Turais, “He has always been atypical as a Black.”

         “Well, you are fairly atypical yourself, Turais. And you are growing up to be a fine Slytherin and future Lord Black,” Orion spoke firmly.

         “What if I told you that I had a hat stall because the Hat told me I would do well in Gryffindor?” Turais offered. He knew it was dishonesty by omission, but he needed to help Orion to face his fears. Orion looked horrified that his eldest was remotely considered to join the house of lions.

         “W…what?” Orion spluttered. “N...no, you’re lying. You’re a Black and a Parselmouth. That would never happen.”

         “Father, you know that I would do well in Gryffindor. You always wondered why I’m so courageous. There are some Gryffindor traits in me. That part is apparent,” Turais said calmly. Orion shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he continued, “I knew I would have an easier time in Gryffindor than in Slytherin, and it matched my personality better. I had a choice between my duty and my comfort. But I understood my duties as the Black heir and the implications that would arise if I were Sorted anywhere else other than Slytherin. I chose my family over my personal happiness. And I never regretted my choice for one second.”

         Orion remained silent, but Turais knew he was still reconciling the fact at his son just revealed he would have rather been in Gryffindor than Slytherin, the house which the Blacks went to for countless generations.

         “I am here to shoulder all those responsibilities. Sirius does not have them. We both know there’s a high chance that he will be sorted into Gryffindor, and he will be miserable in Slytherin. I know he will be torn when he sits on that stool in two weeks’ time, making the difficult choice between family expectations and his own happiness.

         “I know this is a difficult situation for you. But please… please consider telling him that you will be proud of him regardless of which house he is Sorted into.”

         Orion buried his face in his hands. “Turais… please give me some time. I… I…”

         “Of course, father,” Turais said gently as he left a shaken Orion by himself.

 

Notes:

Even though I have mixed feelings about FB as a story, I'm glad it expanded the universe so I have much more canonical locale to play with.

Will Sirius be sorted into Gryffindor?

As always, your thoughts and comments are always welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-03-26

Chapter 33: King's Cross - September 1st, 1971 (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I definitely procrastinated on my work (totally regretting it now) and whipped up this chapter. I just couldn't resist writing on and giving you a sneak peek of the newest additions to the story. But it's really just because I'm easily distracted in my own home and can't focus on homework...

I hope you enjoy the update.

- ravenclawblues 2020-04-01

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

KING'S CROSS - SEPTEMBER 1ST, 1971


 

 

 

- Carmichael Wilkins -

 

September 1, 1971 (Wednesday)

 

OLD SCHOOL, NEW HAUNT?

by Sclandora Gosp

The Unknown Specter Threatens

 

Students, beware! For the past few weeks, news of an unfriendly guest has made its presence known to the villagers of Hogsmeade. Ranging from strange scratches to shuddering shrieks, otherworldly sounds have permeated throughout the uninhabited moors, which housed only an abandoned shack in the centre.

“[The shack] has bin haur fur years. Whieest an’ aw,” Mr Young(?), age unknown, a local resident said. The man’s accent was too difficult for the reporter to understand. Therefore, he reached out to another man who travels by the moor on a regular basis.

Mr Neep, 85, the apothecary, said, “I always collect potion ingredients from the woods up north. So, I travel around the moor twice per day. Never in my 86 - what is it? - oh - 85 years of my life had that shack made a noise. It was only about three months ago that strange noises started to occur on an irregular basis. I had to reach for my Calming Drought the first time it happened in my 89 years - oh, yes, 85 years. But I have never seen anything near the shack in 87 years of my life.” Mrs Neep later revealed to us that her husband suffers from poor vision and memory challenges.

We reached out to Headmaster Dumbledore for a quote and, after twenty years of no response, received one saying: “I assure you that our students are safe from this unknown specter. It is quite comfortable living in its new home and has no desire to interact with its neighbours, so there will be no house-warming party invitations.”

Whether the Headmaster gained a new sense of humour or a new sense of respect for our column, you shall find out in next week’s “Dumbledore - Jokester, Roaster, or Mediocre.”

 

***

 

         Mr Waters, a train conductor at King’s Cross Station, prided himself in leading a perfectly ordinary life. Indeed, life here was chaotic as people from various walks of life rushed in and out of the station to their destinations, but that was to be expected in one of the busiest train stations in Britain. Again, nothing out of the ordinary.

         However, he was strolling down platform nine after the train to Leeds had departed when he was forced to be reminded that his perfectly ordinary life was, in actuality, blemished. As he walked past a party of five dressed up in funny robes and pointed hats, he mentally reconfirmed that it was the first of September. He then checked his watch, which told him it was quarter past ten in the morning.

         Grimly, he was reminded of the occasion.

         “Oh, I am so excited to go to Hogwarts!” a bespectacled boy shouted with unbridled joy. “And to see Sirius as well!”

         ‘Hogwarts, where on the sodding planet is this Hogwarts...’ he thought to himself as another family, sporting a similar fashion, passed by him.

         “James, how many times do I have to remind you that we are in a place teeming with Muggles?” a greying woman scolded, but her son heeded no attention. She sighed.

         ‘Again. Why are these people saying the word - what was it again? - ah yes, “Muggles”. What is a Muggle?’ he thought to himself, once again puzzled. 

         After working at the station for his third year, he had noticed that there was an onrush of people speaking complete jibberish on certain days - most importantly, on the first of September.

         “Mum! I think I lost my toad!” a short, rounded boy announced.

         “Peter! How did you lose it?” his father scolded him. “Where did you last see it?”

         “Can’t you just summon it?”

         “You can’t summon an animate object, Peter.”

         ‘Summoning a toad? Like a seance?’ Mr Waters eyed the various animals that violated all sorts of animal codes. Yet, he was reminded that he had never heard of a single complaint about a stowaway owl or escaped toad incidents on any of the trains.

         This was one of the many mysteries that remained unsolved, which marred his perfectly ordinary life. And this infuriated him.

         “Excuse me, sir,” someone called behind him. “Excuse me.”

         Mr Waters turned around to find a well-dressed lady strolling up to her. “Hi, I was just wondering which one of these columns is considered the third column from the front?”

         “I beg your pardon, miss?” He took a longer glance at the lady. She was dressed properly, if not a smidgen on the plain side. Her confusion was genuine, so she was unlikely to be a prankster or a madwoman. 

         The lady’s eyes flitted down to his name tag, and she opened her mouth, “Oh, I do apologize. I seem to have mistaken you for another.”

         “What do you mean, miss?”

         He stopped talking when a man in the uniform of a station guard appeared beside her. Pinned on his right breast pocket was the name “Donovan Charmsmith.” But the letters on the name tag suddenly rearranged to form the words “Hogwarts Express Concierge” before reverting back to his name. Mr Waters blinked his eyes several times, thinking that his eyes deceived him. He decided to ignore the incredulous sight and focused on the man’s name. He did not recognize that man or his name from anywhere, not from the employee register or from any of the socials. He could not be a new hire either as he had met them both, one John Reed and one Miles Andrews, before.

         “Miss, I believe I am the one you are looking for,” the man said.

         “Oh yes, I do believe so. It is our first time trying to find the barrier. We are non-magical, you see,” the lady said, her face filled with relief.

         “Of course -”

         A wizard posing as a station guard had moved behind Mr Waters while he was distracted by the scene and struck the unassuming man with a dim glow of light.

         “Don’t worry, miss,” Charmsmith said to the lady as she looked at the dazed Mr Waters. “Mr Waters is due for a memory alteration. He has an inquisitive mind, this one, but it’s bad news for us.”

         “Oh... I see,” the lady was clearly shocked, but she composed herself very quickly, as one must be considering she was unaware of the magical world until two months ago. “Will you do... um... do that to me as well?”

         “Are you a parent of a student?”

         “Yes, my youngest daughter, Lily, is attending Hogwarts for her first year today.”

         “Then, no. The Ministry should have sent a pamphlet with all the information on it...”

         “Well...” the lady said apologetically. “My other daughter accidentally threw it in the fireplace... we weren’t able to salvage all the papers...”

         “No worries... you can always write to the Ministry and ask them to resend you the information,” the man said. “If you don’t know how, you can ask your daughter, Lily, to do it on your behalf.”

         They stopped in front of a brick column.

         “So this is where you want to be. Make sure to pick up some speed and run straight through the wall, and you will find yourself on the platform.”

         Relieved, the lady thanked the disguised wizard profusely before she headed back to her family.

 

***

 

         Somewhere nearby, one of the new employees, John Reed, was currently shadowing an older employee in the ticket booth. He, too, noticed the influx of people dressed in robes and caps as though they were the characters from the hidden magical world that his grandfather loved to tell him when he was little.

         “What’s with those strangely dressed people?” he asked as he eyed a family pointing at the signs. It was his first day of work at this extremely busy node of transportation, and he was currently shadowing his supervisor, Mr Ward.

        “Your single fare to Manchester, miss - have a pleasant journey,” the older, more experienced man said cheerily as he slipped a ticket and some change to the lady in front of the booth.

         The lady thanked Mr Ward and left. Seeing that she was the last person in the queue, the man swiveled on his chair and turned to the intrigued John as he stretched his arms up high to relax his sore shoulders. “The lot of them appear on the first of September every year, John. Reckon there is an annual convention or parade somewhere up north...”

         John nodded as he checked the clock that stood in the centre of the busy lobby. It was half-past ten, and there had been more than a dozen parties dressed in such intriguing costumes. He wondered whether he was allowed to join in as well. It seemed fun.

         There was a pale and sickly woman that was walking slowly as she held the hand of a little boy with slink, black hair and a slightly hooked nose. Suddenly, a fit of cough overwhelmed the lady as John reached out to hold her steady.

         “Are you feeling ill, madam?” he said.

         After two more coughs into her handkerchief, the woman wiped the corner of her mouth and gasped breathlessly, “I always feel ill, young man, but I’ll live for another day. These coughs have yet to bring me down.”

         John glanced at the young boy, whose obsidian eyes looked up at his mother. He stood there wordlessly without a word of encouragement or concern, yet the man could feel the intense worry and fear that radiated from the boy.

         The mother squeezed her son’s hand slightly. “Don’t frown, Severus. You don’t want lines on your forehead now. It blemishes your dashing looks.”

         “Mum... I’m not dashing in any way,” the boy grumbled, but John could see the boy’s shoulder relaxed just a fraction from the words.

         “You’re the most handsome boy I’ve ever known,” the mother said as Severus quirked a small smile.

         “Mum... you’re embarrassing me...” Severus grumbled. Then, he looked up at the man, and his expression closed off again. “I think we should head out. I want to find a compartment with Lily.”

         “Of course,” she said, then coughed twice more. She thanked John before they headed off. John watched as they disappeared before a small voice sounded near him.

         “Excuse me, sir.” 

        There was a tiny tug on his uniform. John looked down to see a little boy, rather pale and thin but otherwise quite handsome. There was also a faint streak of pink that ran from the outer corner of his right eye to the middle of his cheek. It was quite long and seemed painful. He wondered if the boy ventured too close to an unfriendly neighbourhood hound and fell victim to its sharpened claws. Then, John realized he was wearing a heavily-used robe. It was frayed on the edges and with patches stitched on the sides and at the elbows.

         A few steps behind him was an aging woman. Her tired disposition and worried eyes weighed heavily on her wrinkled face. Beside her was a tall, grave man who had the same grey eyes as the little boy.

         However, the most striking observation was the barn owl that perched inside a bronze-wired cage.

         Taking his eyes off the owl, John crouched down. His gaze was now level with the child when he asked gently. “How may I help you, little one?”

         “Ummm... someone dropped this on the floor.”

         The boy placed a brown wallet into his hand.

         “Oh, thank you, young man,” John smiled. “The poor chap who lost this will be immensely grateful.”

         The boy gave him a coy smile before walking back to his parents. Unable to suppress his curiosity, John shouted out.

         “Where are you heading to?”

         “To school!” The boy said excitedly as it was the most wondrous phrase he had ever uttered. John wondered again whether he had ever reacted to the idea of school so positively. Perhaps he did once, a long, long time ago.

         “Where is that wonderful school of yours?”

         “Oh... Ummm,” the boy paused as he looked up at his father for assistance. He saw the man pull out a single drumstick... (perhaps the boy was a drummer?) and...

         Suddenly, John had a nagging sensation that he had forgotten something very important... like an itch that he was unable to reach and scratch...

         John was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t realize the two adults had quickly ushered the young boy towards the platform between nine and ten. When his supervisor recalled him to his post with an angry shout, John had almost forgotten the exchange entirely as the family of three disappeared behind the throng of people and a magical wall. 

         A few hours later, John would come across a man who was in search of a lost wallet that was curiously in his possession. It was then that he would recall the fuzzy image of a kind, little boy faintly. But afterward, he would think nothing else of it as the memory faded away.

 

***

 

         Not too far away, the Black family arrived in front of the column that led to the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Turais noted that there was a lanky, blond girl blocking the path. She stomped her feet and shrieked at her mother.

         “NO! I’m not going to say goodbye to that freak!” The passers-by turned their heads at the scene before returning to their normal routine.

         “Excuse me, madame. You are blocking the foot traffic,” Orion said as he threw a disdainful look at the Muggle mother and daughter. The mother glanced at Orion once over and realized he was a wizard. Quickly stepping away from the column, she shot off an apology and dragged the teenage girl away.

         “Petunia! -” Turais paused as he turned back and strained his neck in search of the voice, but he could only see the mother’s head bobbing through the crowd. “- Lily is your sister, not a freak!”

         Turais felt conflicted in regards to Petunia as he stared at the milling crowd. Perhaps not meeting her was for the best. 

         He turned back to the column and ran through the magical barrier with his cart to the view of the scarlet train engulfed in heavy steam. This was it when it all began... In a few moments, all the Marauders would be on this train as they traveled to Hogwarts for the first time... and Turais would become a part of it this time.

         Turais was barely able to keep his anxiety and excitement in check as he said his goodbyes. Orion gave both his sons a big hug and some words of caution. His eyes then lingered on Sirius for a long moment as Turais recognized the internal battle waging inside of him. Sirius continued to look at his father hopefully...

         “Sirius, I’m proud of you no matter what happens,” Orion said softly in contrast to the firm grip he had laid upon his son’s arms. “Remember that.”

         And that was it. It was not the resounding approval that Turais hoped for, but it was something nonetheless. But Turais could see that Sirius understood the concession his father made, and he hugged Orion fiercely.

         On another note, Regulus looked like he was on the verge of tears when Sirius gave him a tight hug. Regulus was normally very composed, so this outward portrayal of emotion was a surprise to them all.

         “I want to go to Hogwarts with you two,” Regulus sniffed. “I’m going to be all alone in the house now...”

         “Reggie...” Turais said. “You will join us very soon.”

         “It’s one year!” Regulus cried out. “That’s so far away!”

         “I promise to write to you whenever possible,” Sirius promised solemnly.

         “No, you won’t,” Regulus said miserably. “You will forget about me... I know you will.” Sirius looked at a loss at the sudden accusation.

         “I’ll make sure Sirius writes to you,” Turais said soothingly. “You believe me, right, Reggie?”

         Regulus gave Turais a tiny nod just as the horn tooted warningly.

         “I will see you in three months,” Turais said.

         “I’ll miss you both,” Regulus whispered before he leaned into Orion’s robes. Turais and Sirius gave him a final wave before they disappeared onto the Hogwarts Express.

 

***

 

         Turais quickly ushered Sirius and Alex into an empty compartment before he dashed out once again. 

         His mother - Lily Evans - was on this very train. Severus Snape was here as well, likely sharing the same compartment as his mother. And most importantly, James was on the train as well. The three of them could not meet each other without his supervision. He must control the initial meeting between the three extremely volatile and potentially destructive components.

         He was passing by compartments and compartments until he peered into one with two children that caught his attention. There was a girl with thick, dark red hair that flowed lusciously down to her shoulder sitting across a lanky boy with a stringy, pallid look and a head of long, black hair. Turais found himself fixated at the revelatory sight of the two of them chatting and smiling at each other with ease and innocence. At that moment, he realized that he had never seen such a glow around the boy. He looked so light-hearted, content, and ... happy

         There she was, the mother whom he had inherited his electrifying green eyes; the mother he wished he had a chance to meet; the mother who committed the ultimate sacrifice against an unspeakable evil; the mother who laid down her life to protect his...

         Turais felt a prick of tears behind his eyes as he sniffed. He quickly wiped at his eyes and turned to face the other boy. The boy who would turn into a jaded, cynical man who harboured a secret, unrequited love for his mother; a man who both hated and cherished his past self for all the fond memories and painful nightmares he embodied; the man who sacrificed his all to save the world...

         Turais would ensure that neither fate would befall them again.

         Turais felt as though he was observing a brilliantly-colored Pensieve memory until he realized that the two protagonists turned and looked directly at him. The blood drained from Severus’s horrified expression and turned his complexion even more sallow. Turais immediately seized up as he realized that he was likely openly gawking at them.

         He cleared his throat nervously and realized that his throat felt like the desert. Knocking on their door, he slid it sideways and spoke his prepared lines, “Hello, I am Turais Black, and I am just walking down the train to welcome all the first years. What are your names?”

         A look of surprise and shock, then apprehension flitted across Lily’s face as she turned back towards the boy sitting across from her. Then, observing the boy’s continuous gobsmacked stare at Turais, she found the confirmation she sought.

         “You’re the Turais Black who is the all-around third-year Slytherin Potions genius, the star Seeker that won Slytherin the Quidditch Cup, the joint-inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion with Damocles Belby, and a candidate for the Order of Merlin?” Lily’s eyes shone brightly, then teasing at her companion. “I’ve heard loads about you from my friend here. You see, you’re sort of his personal hero -”

          “Lily! -” Severus hissed murderously as the girl just smiled with deceptive innocence in return. Then, he inadvertently met Turais’s gaze and immediately flushed to a dangerous shade of red. He averted his gaze towards the floor rapidly as he picked at his robes. Severus looked as though he was contemplating whether death by a carnivorous seat or by a well-placed Bombardo was more preferable.

         Lily then spoke again, “Severus! Your copy of Advanced Potion-Making! Now is a good time for you to ask him to sign -”

         “Lily!” Severus launched himself at the girl and covered her mouth in an attempt to silence her. “Don’t listen to her. She w...was just joking. W...who would want a r...random person to sign someone else’s book. That’s for... losers! Exactly! Losers. She makes absolutely no sense!” Severus chuckled nervously.

         “I personally wouldn’t hesitate to ask Catherine Westermont to sign my book on Quidditch greats if I get the chance to meet her,” Turais said casually. Severus looked stricken with remorse. “But you are reading Advanced Potion-Making? That’s quite an advanced reading for a first-year.”

         “Severus, here, is a Potions genius!” Lily gushed as Severus looked embarrassed. However, before Lily was able to say anything more, Turais heard Sirius’s voice from behind.

         “Hey, Turais?” Turais tensed as he turned around to face his younger brother. Sirius looked around Turais at Lily and Severus questioningly. “What are you doing here?” 

         “Uh, why are you not in our compartment?” Turais asked, feeling the anxiety and tension starting to creep up inside him.

         “Oh, Alex agreed to look after our belongings, so I decided to explore a little.”       

         “Hi, I’m Lily Evans,” she said distractedly as she spotted something outside the window.

         “Hi,” Sirius said as he turned to Severus. “And you are?”

         “Oh! Petunia is here!” Lily shouted happily as she leaped onto her feet.

         “Lily! She won’t have anything nice to say,” Severus held his arm up. “You should just stay put.”

         “Oh... Severus, I know you don’t get along with her -” Severus looked like he was about to argue when he was silenced by Lily’s hand motion.” - But she’s my sister, and I want to say a final goodbye to her...” Lily said as she darted out of the compartment, leaving the three boys alone. 

         “Uh... so, who are you again?” Sirius asked.

         “Who are you?” Severus returned suspiciously.

         Sirius frowned. “I’m Sirius Black, Turais’s younger brother.”

         “Oh... well...” Severus carded his oily, black hair nervously as he cast an apologetic glance at Turais, “I’m Severus Snape and  -”

         “OI, SIRIUS! I’ve been here for ages trying to find you. Did you just arrive?” James’s voice shouted from the hallway. Turais just wanted to cast a Freezing Charm on everyone and stop them from interacting. This was a headache, and he was going to die from anxiety.

         “Hey, James. Yeah, we arrived a few minutes ago...” Sirius waved at James, who just came into view. Severus looked between the two boys nervously.

         “Oh, hello again, Turais. Is this our compartment? Where is your luggage and - who is this?” James scanned the boy in the compartment up and down before scrunching his nose in disgust. “Is he your friend?” 

         “Uh...” Sirius said with uncertainty.

         “I’m not friends with him!” Severus blurted out. Suddenly, he saw Turais, and he burnt in embarrassment. “I mean... we are not yet friends -”

         “Cut it out,” James said sharply as he stepped up in front of Sirius defensively while rising anger blotched his cheeks. He was clearly offended by Severus’s outburst. “Sirius is an amazing person, and you’re not fit to be his friend even if you wanted to.”

         “James, don’t be so harsh with your words,” Turais admonished, fearing the escalation of the situation that was forewarned from Severus’s bubbling indignation.

         “But he started it,” James argued as he pointed an accusatory finger at Severus.

         “No, I did not, speccy!” Severus stood up and retorted hotly. James looked mightily affronted as he adjusted his glasses subconsciously.

         “Don’t. Call. Me. Speccy, you slimehead,” James yelled. 

         “Okay. Stop! Both of you!” Turais shouted, but Severus was determined to have the last word.

         “If you could see beyond the tip of your big, fat nose, you were the one who insulted me and made it sound like being friends with me was horrible in the first place!”

         “James,” Turais warned the offending boy off. “Severus, you both said something hurtful. You should apologize to each other.” 

         Severus scoffed as he sneered at the bespectacled boy. “Well, I’m not apologizing to spug gadgie over here.”

         “Why you filthy, little grease-”

         James was interrupted as Turais shot a Silencing Charm at him and shoved him out of the compartment. 

         “Okay, that’s enough from the both of you,” Turais announced. He turned to Sirius and an excited James who was mouthing something soundlessly in fascination, “Sirius, bring James to our compartment and -”

         Suddenly, Lily appeared behind him. She snuck past them and re-entered the compartment in a flash. Her hand was covering her face as he could hear a distant but muffled sob.

         “Okay, James. Nothing to see here...” Turais said as he pushed Sirius and James away from the compartment. But Sirius and James refused to budge.

        James shook his head adamantly as he peeked at the girl with curiosity. Turais was to die of frustration. Everything was going pear-shaped. 

         Severus immediately ignored the boys and sat beside Lily. Giving her his full attention, he asked gruffly, “What did Petunia do?”

         Lily shook her head in response as Severus looked conflicted between putting his hand around her or not. He ultimately settled with placing a hand on her near the shoulder in support.

         “It’s going to be alright,” Severus said soothingly. “You are so much better than she is. She is just jealous of you for your magic.”

         Lily sniffed.  “But she’s not like that. She is not a jealous person, Severus.”

         Severus looked as though he was about to raise an argument but decided to swallow it in favour of calming his friend. “Well, why don’t we think about how many new friends we will make in Slytherin -”

         James mouthed something angrily as he shoved his way into the compartment once more. He was gesticulating wildly. Lily wiped her tears away as she pulled out her wand. “I know the counter-Charm.” Of course. Lily had to be smart and learn the general counter-Charm because why not?

         “Finite,” she said as James’s voice suddenly filled the compartment.” -  Why Slytherin? Gryffindor is so much better!” James turned to Lily and gasped, “Thank you, by the way.”

         “James!” Turais chided exasperatedly. “No house is superior to the other. They each have their own merits and complement others as well.”

         “Sure,” James said dismissively. “But she clearly doesn’t belong wherever you end up.” James pointed his finger at Severus.

         Well, that caught Lily’s attention as she looked up with red-rimmed eyes and stared at James furiously.

         “I should have left you mute! Severus is my friend,” she said hotly. “He’s nice to a good friend and me -” James snorted as Lily just grew angrier,” - and you should leave, whoever you are.”

         “Well...” James tugged on his robes importantly and patted his crazy hair. Then, he stuck out his hand snobbishly, “I’m James Potter. And you are...?”

         “Crossed! I am cross with you, Potter,” Lily snapped, “And you need to leave right now!”

         Lily forced James out with a shove, slid the compartment door shut, and locked it. James looked bewildered at the display.

         “I can’t believe she turned me down for that slimehead,” James gasped, stunned, as he turned to the Blacks.

         “Well...” Sirius said hesitantly. “You were a bit rude...”

         “What?! I was most definitely not rude. That slimy git was the rude one,” James bristled. “Are you on his side or mine, Sirius?”

         “James...”

         “Hmph, I will show that girl - what’s her name again?”

         “Evans. Lily Evans.”

         “I’ll show Evans I’m clearly the superior choice compared to that boy,” James huffed with determination as he started to walk off with his trunk.

         ‘Why is James such a git?’ Turais thought exasperatedly. ‘Well... he is destined to learn this the hard way.’

         “Uhmm... I think we should apologize to them,” Sirius said as he eyed the two occupants of the now-locked compartment. Lily smacked Severus on the head as Severus continued to talk. Clearly, the boy was recounting the events, and Lily was not impressed by the boy’s discourteous display either.

         “We should,” Turais said as he looked at James’s shrinking figure. “But the one who needs to apologize most is not present.”

         Sirius shrugged helplessly at Turais before he knocked. Lily peeked outside the window and saw that only the two Blacks were present before she slid the door open. Sirius peeked his head inside, “Uhm, we would just like to apologize on James’s behalf. Uh... sorry.”

         Lily softened her gaze. Her eyes were still a bit watery from her tears moments ago. “It’s not you that I’m mad at...”

         “Sirius. Sirius Black, Turais’s younger brother.”

         “Nice to meet you,” Lily said. “I’m not mad at you, Sirius. But I’m glad you are not like your friend. At least you know he was wrong, well... partially. Of course, Severus here was in the wrong as well.” Lily shot Severus a glare. “Severus, apologize to Sirius right now.”

        “I’m sorry,” Severus mumbled into his robes.

         “It’s fine...” Sirius said awkwardly in return.

         “James is a bit of an obnoxious git,” Turais said. “He is not a bad person, though. He will grow out of it eventually.”

         Lily looked doubtful, however. But she did not comment further.

 

***

 

         Turais and Sirius returned to their compartment when they found that James was engrossed in a conversation with the other third-years. Jonty was still not present. Turais wondered what the latest gossip was.

         “- just still think Gryffindor is the most awesome! Ravenclaws are okay, I guess? But no one likes a know-it-all. Slytherins are - well -” James waved at Alex and Turais,” - mostly shifty blokes except for these two and a couple of others. And no offense to Hufflepuffs, but they are a bit boring, aren’t they?”

         The older students in the compartment winced as they all shot worrying glances at Gerald, whose countenance darkened considerably.

         “James,” Turais warned. “You cannot make over-generalizations like that -” 

         “But, Turais. I mean... Loyalty. Honesty. Hard-working...” James continued, taking no notice of the charged tension around him. “... They’re all fine and dandy, but at the end of the day...” James then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “... it’s almost like that saying: ‘always a bridesmaid, never a bride.’ Ain’t it? The spotlight never shines on them, so why toil if you don’t get the recognition?”

         Turais slapped his hand over his face in embarrassment while Gerald was sending daggers with his eyes at James in an unusual display of hostility. At the moment, the compartment door slid open to provide a much-needed distraction in the form of one frantic and out-of-breath Evelyn Napier.

         “Hey, Turais,” the sixth-year Prefect breathed heavily as his eyes darted towards Sirius. “You must be Sirius! It is a pleasure to finally meet the person that Turais is so crazy about! I’m Evelyn, by the way -” the boy said with a smile as he pointed at his shiny badge,” - and a Prefect. If you need anything, just find me!”

         “Thanks...” Sirius said shyly as he gave Turais a quick elbow in the ribs.

         “Why would he need to talk to you when he has Kaiden?” James asked. “And it’s not like he’s going to be seeing you all that often once he’s Sorted into Gryffindor.”

         Sirius’s face blanched as Evelyn’s eyes darted between the occupants of the room, notably the Black brothers.

         “Uhmm... right...” Evelyn said awkwardly as he rummaged his robes and pulled out two scrolls. He handed one each to Sirius and James. “Slughorn’s invitations to lunch. Duty calls! I’ll see you all around!” Evelyn left the compartment hastily.

         “What a strange fellow,” James wondered aloud to the silent compartment as he turned his attention to the scroll. “What’s this all about?”

         “Professor Slughorn is the Potions professor and also the Head of House for Slytherin,” Turais explained. “He invites certain students to join his monthly dinner parties called the Slug Club -”

         “What?!” James chortled. “The Slug Club ?! This is hilarious. How self-absorbed or elitist is that man?” He leaned forward and nudged Sirius across from him, who was clearly still in a daze from the boy’s previous comment about his Sorting. “Mate, aren’t you glad you don’t need to deal with this dodgy character constantly?”

         Sirius could only nod as he stared down at the invitation.

         Ultimately, James’s curiosity overruled his urge to boycott the idea of an elite club as he dragged Sirius along with him to the lunch car.

 

***

 

         Turais resumed his quest to systematically introduce himself to all the incoming first-years when he came across a compartment with only one occupant. Peeking in, he saw a young boy with light brown hair in a set of rumpled and darned school robes. There were obvious patches that were mended over torn bits around his elbow. Turais could see a couple of faint, red lines etched just above his left cheekbone as the boy just stared longingly at a framed portrait in his hands.

         Turais calmed himself down as he knocked on the door. The boy looked up, then seized up as he looked between the frame and him in rapid succession, and hastily stuffed the frame into his bag and out of view.

         Turais slid the door open and said, “Hello, my name is Turais Black -“

         Remus’s eyes widened comically as he scrambled to his feet. 

         “- and I am a third-year. I’m going around and saying hello to all the first-years going to Hogwarts for the very first time. What is your name?”

         Remus was frozen on the spot, staring at Turais with wide eyes and trembling in awe and excitement.

         “Hello?” Turais asked softly, not wanting to startle the young boy. But his words still managed to send a huge shudder through his entire body.  

         Suddenly, Remus turned his head around and away from Turais. One second later, he turned back and blinked his eyes several times. He then shook his head dismissively and repeated the same motion again.

         “Uh... what are you doing?” Turais was stumped by his actions. But Remus seemingly accepted the fact that Turais was not a figment of his imagination and started to speak.

         “I am Remus… Remus Lupin. It’s very nice to meet you… finally …” Remus’s voice gradually went softer until the last word was barely louder than a whisper.

         “Oh, hello, Mr Lupin. Nice to meet you. Do you have any questions for me?”

         “Um… please call me Remus… only if you want to! You can call me anything -“

         “Of course, Remus.”

         Remus looked like he was about to faint when Turais said his name.

         “Remus?”

         “Oh sorry… furry brain, I’m just nervous about school… yeah, school. I just can’t believe I’m here right now... with you... Right, question… um… what if it’s not Hogwarts-related?”

         “Sure… I hope I am able to answer it…may I?”

         Turais gestured to the seat across from him.

         “Of… of course! Please sit.” Remus looked in shock that he was standing, then looked as though he was appalled by his lack of manners. “Um… how difficult was it… I mean, the Wolfsbane Potion… to make… I mean.”

         “Oh, are you asking how difficult it was to make the Wolfsbane Potion? It was a lot of hard work done by my partner in crime, Damocles Belby. I just helped him with a few things for the Potions ingredients.”

         “Thank you for doing this… making the potion… it’s a life-changing potion for… a lot of people. I mean, I don’t know anyone who uses it, of course, but -“

         “Thank you for saying that, Remus. That was my intention for creating this potion in the first place - to help those in need.”

         Remus looked at Turais as though he wore a halo.

         “Um… can I… may I shake your hand?” Remus asked shyly.

         “Of course! I can give you a hug, too, if you want.”

         “Really?” Remus yelped out before looking horrified by his shout and asked again meekly. “I mean… really?” Turais chuckled as the boy blushed. After a quick hug, Remus said quickly, “I’m so sorry... it’s just... you are so... brilliant! I’m nothing like you...”

         “Trust me,” Turais said kindly. “You will be a brilliant student as well.”

         “Really?” Remus looked up at him hopefully. His eyes were twinkling so brightly as if they contained the entire universe of stars. “Do you really think I can be brilliant like you?”

         “I don’t see why not,” Turais said. “I have faith in you.”

         “Thanks...” Remus said softly.

         “Hey, do you want to join my compartment? My brother is starting his first-year too. Maybe you can become friends before Hogwarts? He’s a trouble-maker, and I can really use a pair of eyes to watch out for him and keep him from causing any trouble.”

         Remus’s eyes widened hopefully, “Are you sure?” Turais nodded. “Of course, I can help you! I mean, not that you need any help, obviously….”

         “Okay, follow me then!” Turais said as the boy immediately packed up his belongings and followed him out of the compartment.

 

***

 

         After getting Remus settled, Turais left the compartment again in search of the fourth and final Marauder.

         Turais had mixed feelings with the boy, with most of it being negative. However, he pitied him more than anything during his previous life. But despite wanting to keep the Marauders intact, he really wished that Peter Pettigrew would not be sorted into Gryffindor. That would be one of the absolute ways to ensure that the tragedy would not occur again.

         As he neared the end of the train, he finally found his target. A small, rounded boy with two large teeth was laughing at a joke made by another boy in the compartment. He was completely different from the man Turais once knew - the jaded, haunted coward.

         Turais knocked on the glass as the occupants all turned to look at him. He entered the compartment and said, “Hello, my name is Turais Black. I see that you are all first-years, so I was wondering if you have any questions for me?”

         “Uh... no, thank you very much,” one of the boys said.

         “Very well,” Turais said as he turned to Peter, “I’m curious as to which house you would like to be Sorted into”

         The boy shifted in his seat uncomfortably, “I don’t know... maybe, Gryffindor.”

         The other boys in the compartment guffawed.“You? Gryffindor”

         Peter flushed in embarrassment as he laughed along. “Yeah... that was a joke, Brock... was it funny.”

        “Absolute jokester! That is the last place I’d imagine you to be Sorted into, Peter. Gryffindor is for heroes, not scaredy-cats without a drop of courage such as you.” 

        “Young man, who are you to judge him so harshly” Turais found himself defending Peter, miraculously. 

        “Who are you to question me,” the boy, Brock, returned. “I’m the one who has known him for years, and there is no further thing away from Gryffindor on this planet than him.”

         “Listen, young man,” Turais said angrily. “You better not be sorted into Slytherin because I do not want someone with a piss-poor attitude like yours to bring shame to my House.”

         “Well, lucky for the both of us that Slytherin is at the bottom of my list since I don’t want to be surrounded by inbreds.”

         “You’re lucky that I am determined to set a good example and be civil,” Turais warned. “Or else you would’ve already been hexed six ways to Sunday. Good day to you all.”

         As Turais left the compartment, he found Peter looking at him with eyes shining with admiration.

 

***

 

         Turais was suddenly dragged into the cramped toilet by none other than Kaiden Potter. He was then swiftly shoved to the far corner by the sink as the Gryffindor peeked through the tiny gap between the door and wall. All the while, he was chuntering incessantly under his breath. 

         “... how dare you to show up like this... the beard should be illegal... I’m going crazy... complete disregard of my well-being...”

         “Hey, Kaiden. What’s going on?”

         “... this, Kaiden, is what happens when you don’t see him for six weeks... urgh... I can’t deal with this right now...”

         “Earth to Kaiden -”

         “Turais, have you seen how Michael looks?” Kaiden cried out. Then, his eyes widened as he peered out nervously again.

         “Uh... no?” Turais said in total confusion. “Michael -”

         “Shhh! “Kaiden said. “He’s coming!”

         “What’s - ”

         “Shut up, Turais!”

         Turais did as he was told as the boy continued to crouch. Suddenly, he froze, slammed the door shut, and put down the latch all at once. Turais found himself dragged by Kaiden to the front as he maneuvered himself into the corner. This toilet really wasn’t meant for two children to occupy it at the same time.

         Then, there was a knock on the door accompanied by Michael’s voice.

         “Kaiden, are you in there?” Another couple of knocks.“Kaiden?”

         Kaiden kicked Turais as he hissed urgently, “Say something.”

         “Michael, it’s not Kaiden,” Turais said calmly. “It’s Turais.”

         “Oh... sorry for interrupting you... Turais,” Michael said. “I swear I heard Kaiden’s voice in there...”

         “Must have heard wrong then,” Turais laughed, which sounded extremely forced to his ears. Kaiden expressed his displeasure with a swift kick to his behind, and Turais barely swallowed the muffled groan.

         “Well... actually, I would like to talk to you about Quidditch trials. I’ll just wait for you out here then.”

         Turais turned around to see Kaiden’s panicked expression mirroring his own.

         "What do I do?" Turais hissed.

         “Tell him yes and get him away from here,” Kaiden whisper-yelled.

         “Are you alright in there, Turais?” Michael’s voice said, sounding worried.

         “Yeah!” Turais said. “Just finishing up!” He laughed nervously again as Kaiden glared.

         ‘Why do I get dragged into these situations, honestly?! I never asked for it.’

         Turais flushed the toilet and pretended to wash his hands. Then, he carefully slid the door open just enough for him to squeeze past the gap without letting Kaiden be seen.

         “Hey - whoa! -”

         In front of Turais was a well-put-together Michael who definitely grew at least three inches taller since two months ago. His hair was combed up and slicked back. There was a fine mustache above his upper lip and a thick stubble around his jaw that made him look closer to a man than a boy. He also filled up his Quidditch uniform (seriously, did the boy - sorry, man - not own any regular robes?) with bigger muscles. Speaking of Quidditch robes, those were high-quality robes rather than the tattered ones he owned for all of last year. He was presented as a man fit to be in a courtship... well, apart from the facial hair.

         “What happened to you?” Turais gasped. “Puberty?”

         Michael blushed at the comment. “I’ve been getting a lot of stares on the train... Do I really look that different? It’s the beard... isn’t it?” Michael started rubbing his chin and producing a few rough scratch sounds.

         “Probably,” Turais said. “You look good, though. But isn’t the beard and mustache against school rules?”

         “It is...” Michael shifted awkwardly, “I just wanted to grow this out as a protest, you know?”

         “Protest against what?”

         “You know... against my parents... for...” Michael was gesturing with his brows as Turais understood the implications. Sporting facial hair was not the worst crime for a male in courtship, but it was definitely not the most socially-acceptable behaviour for conservative families. Some eyebrows must have been raised, and some shouting matches must have occurred in the Wilkinses household this summer. But Turais wondered if his act of defiance actually backfired on him as it possibly caused Lavinia Swire to be more besotted with him.

         “Understood,” Turais said quickly before Michael revealed more about his courtship with Kaiden listening.

         “I just wanted to show Kaiden this before I shaved it off for school, but I can’t seem to find him on this train. Do you think he’ll hate how I look?”

         “I’m sure he is crazy for it,” Turais said before he winced internally at his unfortunate choice of words.“So... Quidditch trials.”

        “Right, so I was thinking….”

         Michael started his spiel enthusiastically as Turais directed him down the hall and away from the toilet. At the corner of his eye, he saw Kaiden slipping out and fleeing in the opposite direction.

 

***

 

         Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, Sirius and James returned to the compartment. Jonty had also arrived a few minutes before them.

        “Oh, dear Merlin,” James gasped as he slumped onto an empty spot and splayed his limbs wide. Remus, who was beside him, immediately scooted away to make more space. “Sluggy -” Jonty snorted at the nickname for his Head of House. “- droned on and on and on about the people he knew... I mean... who cares!”

         James turned beside him and finally realized the newcomer in this compartment.

         “And who are you supposed to be? I’m James Potter,” James raised his hand lazily at the boy. 

         Remus stared at it for a long moment before he snapped out of his daze.

         “R...Remus,” Remus said as he wiped his palm on his trousers and took James’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, James.”

         “Are you the only Remus in England?” James quipped. Remus was at a loss with the question.

         “Uh... reckon not... but maybe?”

         “He’s asking for your last name, Remus,” Sirius supplied.

         “Oh... OH!” Remus flushed in embarrassment as he scratched his head sheepishly. “Lupin. Remus Lupin.”

         “Cool name,” James said as he sat up from his slouch. “Where’s your fratricidal twin brother?”

         “I... I don’t have one?”

         “He meant Remus and Romulus,” Sirius explained while rolling his eyes at James. “The twin brothers that founded the Roman Empire. This is a terrible joke, James.”

         James kicked Sirius on the shin in protest as Remus paled, “Oh... OH! I’m sorry... I didn’t -”

         “You’re a bit awkward, aren’t you?” James interrupted. Turais made his disapproval known by pointing his wand at him and sending a Stinging Jinx. James yelped in pain.

         “James...” Turais gritted out, “Play nice.”

         “I was about to say he’s pretty awesome. Like, you know... a fun kind of awkward...” James scowled. “Why are you looking at me like that?” James asked defensively when he saw Remus staring at him, gobsmacked. 

         “No... nothing. It’s just... the furry brain of mine is clearly not functional in the mornings.”

         “See... furry kind of awkward... I like him,” James amended. “Anyhow... this wonderful chap here is Sirius Black, and he is my best mate.”

         Both Sirius and Remus looked surprised at the mention, likely for different reasons.

         “Oh... I see,” Remus said, looking a bit crestfallen again. “Do you know many students already?”

         “Of course!” James said with a proud grin. “On the way back, I met Caradoc, Elphias, Marlene, Winston...” James started to list off multiple names as Remus looked increasingly pale. “... and of course, there was our lovely but terribly misguided Miss Evans and her pal, whining greaseball.”

          James stuck out his tongue in obvious distaste.

         “Who’s ‘whining greaseball?’”  Jonty asked, amused.

         “It is another first-year called Severus Snape,” Sirius supplied. Jonty did not look surprised and merely arched an eyebrow.

         James snorted loudly. “Is that his name now? Severus,” the boy said as he tested the name in his mouth. “Severus, what a charming name... not. Hey, Remus, you’re looking rather peaky. Are you feeling ill?”

         “No! No, I’m not,” Remus said weakly as James continued to look unconvinced. “I assure you I am perfectly healthy. It seems to me that you’ve already made so many friends...”

         “Of course,” James huffed proudly. 

         “Don’t worry,” Turais said. “James here is abnormally eager. Many people don’t know anyone besides their cousins until they reach Hogwarts. You will make your own friends very soon.”

         “Really?” Remus asked, looking more cheerful in an instant.

         “Of course!” Turais said with a smile.

         The rest of the train ride passed by quickly as the train stopped just as they finished changing into their school robes. Turais guided the three first-years towards the boathouse.

         All the while, Turais could tell that Sirius was fraught with tension as he remained worryingly subdued compared to James’s excitement.

         “Why the long face, Sirius?!” James asked as they made their way down the forest trail. “We are here! At Hogwarts! Can you believe it?!”

         “Yeah...” Sirius returned half-heartedly as he kicked at some dirt on the ground.

         “Sirius, everything is going to be alright. Just do what you want. Your happiness is all that matters. We can deal with the fallout together,” Turais said as he wrapped his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders.

         “What’s wrong?” James asked as he flitted his eyes towards the two Blacks.

         “It’s... nothing,” Sirius lied. James creased his forehead but did not comment. They walked the rest of the way to the boathouse in relative silence.

         “Well.. I’ll see you in the Great Hall in a few minutes,” Turais announced as he watched Hagrid herding the first-years into separate boats.

         Sirius nodded before he was dragged away by James. Remus also gave Turais a tiny wave before he followed behind them.

         The Thestral carriage brought Turais to the foot of the castle as he made his way to the Great Hall quickly. And soon enough, the first-years appeared in the Great Hall under the watchful gaze of the returning students and staff as it signaled the start of the Sorting Ceremony. Turais attempted to capture Sirius’s attention and give him a reassuring smile, but the boy was clearly too distracted by his thoughts to take notice. Professor McGonagall performed her annual ritual of standing by the Sorting Hat and announced the first name of the night.

         “Black, Sirius.”

Notes:

Sorry, not sorry, for leaving you on this cliffy.

I hope this provided some entertainment and put a smile on your face during this whole self-isolation business.

- ravenclawblues 2020-04-01

Chapter 34: Golden Manes and Forked Tongues (revised)

Notes:

Hey everyone,

I hope your quarantine lives are going well.

Here's a new update for you and I hope it will provide a moment of escape for you all.

- ravenclawblues 2020-04-16

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

GOLDEN MANES AND FORKED TONGUES


 

September 1, 1971 (Wednesday)

 

FAWLEY ANNOUNCES CHIEF WARLOCK ELECTION

by R. A. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

Most Powerful Position in Wizengamot Up for Grabs

 

The Chief Warlock position is widely regarded as one of the most powerful positions in the Wizengamot due to the holder’s ability to control the legislative calendar and determine which Bills get considered for a vote . Therefore, the eventual winner will have great influence in shaping the legislative calendar and the political dynamics within of the Wizengamot.

Lord Hector Fawley, the current Chief Warlock, is largely expected to run for the position again. However, his win three years ago might not be easily replicated in the increasingly hostile and polarized political environment. He has some good news in the form of the splintering of the Black-Malfoy alliance since the beginning of this summer. Both Lord Arcturus Black and Lord Abraxas Malfoy are expected to field their own candidate, which might allow Lord Fawley squeak by the fractured electorate with a narrow re-election victory...

***

 

         “Black, Sirius.”

         Turais watched as Sirius dragged his feet up the stairs and hoist himself onto the stool nervously. Then, his eyes disappeared under the brim of the Sorting Hat.

         They waited as one minute turned into two, then four. Finally, it passed the five-minute mark as Sirius's Sorting became a true Hat-Stall. Sirius was not a Hat-Stall the last time around, and Turais wondered if... just if... he would be sorted differently this time.

         And judging from the pinched lips, Turais knew he was engaged in an internal battle with himself.

         "He's not going to be Sorted into Slytherin, is he?" Alex murmured into Turais's ear as the Great Hall started to discuss amongst themselves, intrigued at what was supposedly a straight-forward determination. 

         "I honestly have no idea," Turais said as he watched on, valiantly trying to maintain an impassive expression as he ignored all the stares that were directed his way. "But I only know that I will love and support him no matter what happens."

         Alex looked at Turais with an inexplicably sad expression before shaking his head minutely. "You are a great brother, Turais -"

         “GRYFFINDOR!”

         The equally damning and liberating word boomed throughout the hall. The Great Hall was shocked into a stand-still as everyone reeled from what just occurred.

         Everyone except for Turais.

         He could not be prouder of Sirius for staying true to himself. And he was certain that the involuntary smile was starting to bloom on his face in full-force. But then, his jubilation was suppressed as the Hat was removed from Sirius’s head. He saw Sirius’s wide-eyes searched frantically amongst the crowd. He looked so lost and afraid of the repercussions. Turais knew he had to show his support for the terrified boy. 

         Drawing the stunned looks from everyone in the Hall, Turais stood up and clapped loudly for his brother as he filled the hollow silence with his sole congratulation and encouragement. Slowly, the other students regained their senses and followed his lead into a degenerate round of applause.

         Sirius’s eyes snapped towards him as he looked at the delighted smile. His lips began to loosen a little bit into a grimace as he joined the Gryffindors with a more confident gait. Jane and Alice both gave his brother a welcoming smile as he sat down.

         Turais seated himself once more as he turned his attention back to Professor McGonagall. He realized the two Black brothers had just made a spectacle of themselves and would be the topic in everyone’s letters home, but he couldn’t care less.

         Sirius was in Gryffindor! Nothing else mattered right now.

         “Evans, Lily.”

         His mother from another lifetime gave Severus an encouraging smile before she walked up the stairs. Turais looked as Severus who was pale with anxiety and inflated with sincere hope - the hope that Lily would be Sorted into Slytherin with him...

         “GRYFFINDOR!"

         Severus's face fell just as James's voice shouted out, "I knew it!" Lily bounced happily towards Sirius while Severus's tears-prickled eyes trailed her longingly with regret and sadness. 

         McGonagall called out the next name on the list just as a loud commotion erupted in the back of the first-year cluster.

         Turais looked just as Severus grabbed James's robes and shoved him onto the cold, stone surface of the Great Hall. Standing up to gain a better look, he saw Severus straddling James and directing punch after punch. James was merely covering his face with his arms and screaming bloody murder.

         "STOP THIS AT ONCE!" Professor McGonagall shouted sternly as she parted the group of first-years and tore the two boys apart. James continued to cry out as he cradled his arms while Severus shot him an unimpressed look. "Never in my entire career at Hogwarts did two unsorted first-years start fighting in the middle of the Great Hall! Who was the instigator?!" 

         "I saw him shove the boy with glasses on the ground," one of the Ravenclaw said as he pointed at Severus.

         "I saw the same thing," a Hufflepuff girl said as the rest of the table nodded.

         McGonagall turned towards Severus, who cowered slightly under her gaze. "Mr Snape, what do you have to say for yourself?"

         Severus glared hatefully at James, who whimpered loudly as a fellow first-year poked his arm, and said, "Potter was calling me a loner!"

         "I -" James shouted. Then, a theatrical wince of pain crossed his expression. "- I think he broke my arm. Can I go to the Hospital Wing?"

         "Your arm isn't broken, Mr Potter," McGonagall said. "It isn't even bruised.”

         “But it hurts so much!” James sobbed tearlessly.

         “Not enough for you to cry,” Severus muttered.

         “I don’t cry,” James sniffed.

         McGonagall turned to Severus. “Mr Snape, do apologize right this instant.”

         “Sorry,” Severus spat distastefully without looking at James.

         “Mr Snape, did you or did you not start the fighting?"

         “Hey! I was not fighting!” James complained. “He’s the one doing all the punching! Everyone saw -”

         “Shut up!” Severus shouted.

         “Mr Snape!” McGonagall said indignantly. “Get a grip of yourself and behave! But Mr Potter, do keep quiet. We’ve heard quite enough from you. Mr Snape, please answer me, did you start the fighting?”

         Severus nodded shamefully.

         "Any type of violence is not tolerated at Hogwarts," McGonagall said. "This is completely unprecedented... but you will serve detention for the entirety of next week and... and for whichever House you will be sorted into, that House will lose twenty points. Your guardian will be notified of this incident as well. -" Severus balked, " - I hope you have learnt your lesson, Mr Snape."

         McGonagall guided Severus to the front of the group and asked James to remain in the back.

         After a dozen more students, Remus's turn came.

         "Lupin, Remus."

         "GRYFFINDOR!"

         And soon after that, it was Peter Pettigrew's turn. As Turais the small, shaky boy climbed up the stairs, he couldn't help but wish he would not be sorted into Gryffindor. Regardless, Turais swore to keep a watchful eye on the boy's development no matter where he ended up. 

         He would not allow the person who directly caused James and Lily's death and Sirius's imprisonment to commit the same act a second time.

         The hat rested on his round head as the hall fell silent. Slowly, the clock inched towards and passed the five-minute mark.

         Finally, the Hat shouted out: "GRYFFINDOR!"

         Turais watched as the tiny boy scampered happily towards the Gryffindor table while his own heart twisted sourly. He would have to make sure that Peter would never have a chance to betray his fellow friends.

         “Potter, James.”

         "Excuse me," James said as he waddled through the crowd confidently. Then, he swung his shoulder deliberately into Severus's side and caused him to stumble. "Don't glare at me like that. I said : 'Excuse me.'"

          He walked up the stairs, plopped onto the stool sideways, and posed as if he was in deep meditation. A low ripple of laughter permeated throughout The Great Hall at the unorthodox antics. McGonagall visibly heaved a heavy sigh as she placed the Sorting Hat on the boy. But its rim barely touched his head before the Hat screamed out: "GRYFFINDOR!"

         Pleased, James's lips split into a cheeky grin as he broke into an celebratory dance in front of the entire school. It was as though he prepared for this moment his entire life. The boy's impressive display of rhythmic movements with his limbs captured the attention of his peers as laughter and cheers ensued. He rounded out the performance with a flourishing bow and strutted towards the Gryffindor table, who gave him a standing ovation. James looked like he was basking proudly in the attention as he sat across from Sirius and Remus. Professor McGonagall, stunned momentarily, also quirked her lips before resuming her obligatory frown.

         There were no other notable incidents in the Sorting until they reached Augustus Rookwood. Turais snapped up in attention as the boy was Sorted into Slytherin. He was followed by Thorfinn Rowle, Albert Runcorn, and Keane Scabior - all of which were Death Eaters or their sympathizers and all Sorted into Slytherin.

         Turais would have to keep an eye out for their development and, hopefully, prevent them from following down the wrong path once again.

         "Snape, Severus."

         The boy walked up to the stool with his sight on the Gryffindor table the entire time. Even on the last second before the rim of the Hat, his gaze was directed towards them. And it was only of tenderness, not malice.

         The Hat deliberated for a long, long time - not quite a Hat-Stall - before it shouted out: "SLYTHERIN!"

         Once again, Severus's eyes zoomed in on Lily as the Hat lifted. Turais noticed that Lily gave him an encouraging wave amidst the lukewarm applause. Severus smiled ruefully.

         Suddenly, Turais's gaze focused past Severus and onto Dumbledore. The Headmaster was staring at a particular person intently, however, the person was not Turais Black.

         It was James Potter.

         'As though sensing his gaze, Dumbledore's electric blue eyes flicked towards him. Their gazes met for a long moment before Dumbledore was distracted by a question from Professor Flitwick sitting by his side.

         Turais watched Dumbledore for a while, but Dumbledore didn't look at him again.

 

***

 

         “Can you wipe that stupid grin off your face?” Jonty snapped as Dumbledore stepped off the podium after his opening address. “It’s frankly starting to grind on my nerves.”

         “Sirius chose to go to Gryffindor! I’m so happy for him!” Turais's smile only grew wider as he jutted his head above the crowd to get a better look at Sirius, who was chatting happily with James and Remus. "Can't you see how happy he looks? Alex, tell Jonty how different he is from the subdued, miserable state he was in for the past few weeks."

         “You’re disgustingly soppy, you know that?” Jonty wrinkled his nose. But instead of continuing his insults, he turned his focus onto the large plate of mashed potato that appeared in front of him. He immediately scooped a large spoonful and slopped it messily on his plate as he continued his conquest for the other dishes within his reach.

         “That’s Turais for you. He has this giant blindspot for his brothers; they could do no wrong,” Alex jested as he nudged Turais supportively. Turais flashed him a grin.

         “Why - mamph - don’t you join him - gnam - at his table then?” Jonty talked messily as he tore off a huge bite of chicken from his drumstick.

         Turais craned his neck to watch the relaxed boy surreptitiously. “Nah, I should give him space to grow and make his own group of friends. That will be better for him.” Apparently sensing his glance, Sirius looked directly at Turais and Turais gave an excited wave. Sirius ducked his head shyly.

         “ Urgh… ” Jonty threw down the bone and wiped his hand carelessly on the napkin. He then shoved Turais out of the bench as Turais stumbled onto his feet. “You are evicted from the Slytherin table. Your moony eyes are making me lose my appetite.”

         “Wait until Regulus comes to Hogwarts next year,” Alex smirked as Jonty groaned loudly at the thought. Alex turned to look at Turais seriously, “But really. Go if you want to.”

         “Nah... look at him!” Sirius was waving his arms animatedly to illustrate his story. He then laughed as James commented on something in return. “He looks so happy and comfortable. I don’t want to interrupt him,” Turais grinned, perhaps a bit too dopily. But whatever...

         Jonty and Alex rolled their eyes and shook their heads in surrender. Turais proceeded to sneak a peek every few seconds and smiled to himself the entire time, much to Jonty’s chagrin and annoyance. 

         Ultimately, the final push, quite literally, came from Alex after several minutes. “We both know you’re just going to be staring at him all night. Don’t bother coming back until you send him off at the Gryffindor Tower. No one will dare say a word against it.” Alex meant the rest of the Slytherins and Turais knew he was right.

         “Fine! But if Sirius hates me for embarrassing him in front of his new housemates, I’ll blame both of you,” Turais scoffed with a grin as his friends rolled their eyes at their insufferable friend. “I guess one dinner should be fine.”

         The table fell silent as Turais walked down the table and traveled to the Gryffindor table to his brother under the watchful eyes of all the Slytherins. Turais met the silent gaze of Professor Dumbledore but Turais did not acknowledge him as he looked away. As he approached Sirius, his brother immediately jumped out of his seat to receive him.

         “Hey, Turais. Are you joining us for dinner?” Sirius asked hopefully.

         “Alex and Jonty kicked me out of my table for being too annoying. May I -”

         “Of course!” Sirius said immediately before he turned to the raised eyebrows from the rest of the table. “Well… I mean… I think it’s okay…”

         “I’m sure it is fine,” Turais invited himself to the table as he sat down in the empty spot where Remus had already prepared for him. Turais gave Remus a grateful smile and he looked bashful. Sirius followed and sat closely beside him. Now that he was seated, he was obviously taller than the surrounding first-years, who stared at him in shock and awe. Turais shrugged as he spoke, “There’s no school rules against me sitting here with my naughty brother. We’ll just have to be a bit cozy.”

         A new table setting appeared in front of him as he scooped some food onto his plate and made sure that Remus and Sirius had their share of food as well. All the while, James was enjoying the rapt attention from his yearmates as he delved into his story.

         “So, as I was saying. When I had my first case of accidental magic, I froze the entire ballroom in the Manor. It’s the size of a Quidditch pitch!” James’s voice sounded. Turais could see the attentive crowd of first-years that hung onto his every word. “It was soooo cold ever since my mother needed the house-elves to cast Warming Charms everytime we went in.”

         Lily, who was sitting several bodies away from him, merely scoffed at his vastly exaggerated story and turned back to talk to an older student beside her - Pearson, the fifth-year prefect.

         “Now, James,” Turais looked at the boy, who was clearly pleased with the amount of attention he has garnered from his fellow Gryffindors, and spoke, “I’ve been to the Potter Manor ballroom and I remember the size was not quite like what you said.” James’s smile froze as he eyed Turais’s knowing glance in shock. His eyes pleaded at Turais to not reveal the truth as his head shook ever so slightly.

         “Oi, Rais!” Kaiden yelled from way down the table and saved James from his potential embarrassment (Turais decided to let him off the hook anyways). “Finally decided to join the Gryffindors? Seeker trial is on -”

         “Shut up, Kaiden! Stop trying to steal my Seeker!” Michael’s voice shouted from somewhere across the Hall. Turais saw Kaiden flushed as he busied himself with his food while Gwenyth Orpington elbowed him teasingly.

         "Oh, that's a lovely bracelet," James commented as he turned his attention to the girl beside him. She was pointing at her bracelet around her left wrist.

         "Thanks, James. You're the first one to notice this... I made it myself," the girl said. "Well, my mum charmed it for me to show my name and a word of my choice," James listened attentively as the girl fiddled with one of the interlinked tags. The word "BELLE" vanished and became "ANGEL."

         "So you're either an angel or a belle?" James asked sincerely. "Well, I think you could very well be both."

         The girl blushed. "I already told you my name, James. It's B-"

         "Belle," James interrupted with a charming smile. "Of course I remember. I have excellent memory. I was just stunned by the bracelet."

         "Well, I can make you one if you want..."

         However, James was already distracted by another conversation as Belle fell silent. "Woah, did you say you have the Ptolemy, Elphias?"

         "Yeah!" the boy said happily as he pulled out the Chocolate frog card. "I just drew it from the Chocolate Frog I purchased from the trolley on the train!"

         "No way! I've never seen this before. This is awesome," James gasped.

         Time flew by quickly as the desserts were vanished while Professor Dumbledore took the podium for a second time.

         “There are a few additional start-of-term announcements to be made. First, Professor Talbot has decided to take on the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts in her alma mater of Beauxbaton Academy -" many of the older boys (and Jonty, Turais imagined) groaned loudly, " - and we are fortunate to be in the capable hands of Professor Dearborne. -" the middle-aged witch with a stoic demeanour stood up to a wave of polite applause. "- We have a second new addition to our staff. Madam Roland has returned to St. Mungo's to practice as a Healer. However, worry not as we have the very gifted Madam Pomfrey in her place.” Madam Pomfrey stood up to the gentle applause. "Please extend the Hogwarts hospitality to our new staff members. The first-years should make note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden, as reflected in the name - the Forbidden Forest. For returning members, Quidditch trials will be held in the third week of the term. If you are interested, please contact your House team captains or Mister Williams.

         “And finally, some of the returning students may soon discover that a new tree has been planned on the edge of the school grounds over summer. Its boundary is marked clearly. Please refrain from approaching it as it could injure you if provoked.”

         Mutters broke out upon hearing this piece of information but Dumbledore raised his hands as the Hall was silenced. “This is all. Off you trot to your warm, comfortable beds that await you!”

         Everyone started to exit the Great Hall while they discussed the latest announcement. And instead of heading down, Turais followed the Gryffindors and took a right up the staircase while huddled around by the first-years. Turias glanced behind Sirius and him and saw that  Peter was trying to talk to James. However, the bespectacled boy was clearly too engrossed in his conversation to notice.

         “Why would he plant something dangerous on school grounds in the first place?” Lily asked Pearson to his left.

         Pearson shrugged confusedly back at her. She said, “It’s strange that Dumbledore didn’t tell the Prefects its purpose.”

         Turais guided Sirius towards the edge of the crowd and asked, “Are you feeling alright?”

         “Yeah...” Sirius answered with a sigh as he glanced down at the red-gold crest on his crest. “I can’t wait for them to find out...”

         “You heard father,” Turais said. “He is on your side, no matter where you end up.”

         “Only because of you, Turais,” Sirius said softly. “I’ve never been happier for the fact that you’re older than me. Can you imagine? Me, the Black heir, in Gryffindor? It’ll be the top story in pureblood circles for years instead of months...” 

         “Siri...” 

         “... and I’ll probably be disowned tomorrow instead of a week from now,” Sirius said deprecatingly.

         “Now, Siri. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Turais said. 

         “By threatening to leave the family with me?” Sirius said. Turais gaped at Sirius before his brother flashed him a grin. Turais gasped incredulously and placed him under a headlock and ruffled his hair roughly.

         “You cheeky menace,” Turais exclaimed as Sirius yelped, drawing them an amused audience. “I don’t know why I put up with you!”

         “Because I’m your favourite person in the world,” Sirius said once he was released.

         “Right now you’re not,” Turais quipped as he tried to maintain a stern frown. “And I was worried that you were hiding your emotions.” Sirius threw himself onto Turais like a koala spotting the sole Eucalyptus tree within miles. The corners of Turais’s mouth inched up traitorously. 

         “Do I see a smile?” Sirius laughed. “I see a smile, Turais!”

         “What do I do with you...” Turais sighed. “...I swear I’m usually not a push-over.”

         “With me you are,” Sirius said.

         “And I’m completely taken advantage of all the time,” Turais said. Then, with a sombre tone, he whispered softly, “But you know I would, right?”

         “Huh?” Sirius asked, confused.

         “Leave the family for you.”

         “Turais...” Sirius said breathlessly as his pupils quivered with emotions. But then, a tiny boy sidle up on Sirius’s side and cut the conversation short. Sirius caught Turais’s glance and turned to the boy with confusion. 

         “Hi,” Peter squeaked.

         “Hi,” Sirius returned. The boy’s eyes darted around nervously. “So... Can I help you?”

         “I’m Peter Pettigrew.”         

         “I’m Sirius Black and this is Turais, my older brother.”

         Peter nodded and said with a high-pitched voice. “Nice to meet you, Sirius. Turais.”

         “Same,” Sirius said simply as he started to turn his attention back to Turais. Peter looked between them in panic. 

         “I am the other hat-stall,” Peter said quickly. 

         “Oh... that’s... good to know,” Sirius said as he glanced at Turais.

         “I’ve met Alphard Black before!” Peter shouted.

         “That’s... lovely," Sirius said uncertainly. "I have never met him before and I doubt I will.”

         As Sirius turned back to Turais, Peter looked defeatedly as he slowly melted back into the rest of the crowd.

         “Why didn’t you try to make friends, Sirius?”

         “I get to talk to them after we get to the common room. Right now, I’m all yours.”

         “Silly, you’ll see me at mealtimes everyday at the very least,” Turais said, nonetheless pleased by the answer.

         Sirius shrugged when James came up from behind and looped his arms around Sirius and Turais’s shoulder. “Hey Sirius. You too, Remus. We should definitely check out the willow tree tomorrow! Our very first school adventure!”

         "He just said the tree was out of bound, Potter," Lily snapped at James over the heads of several first-years. "Can you not get into trouble on the first day of classes?"

         "Well, gentlemen," James addressed while grinning at Lily lazily, "It seems like we have attracted a worthy candidate to join us on our grand expedition."

         Lily rolled her eyes. "I'll pass, thank you very much. I would rather not be eaten alive by a tree."

         "I will surely come to your rescue," James said as he puffed up his chest. "We are Gryffindors. We shall fend off any danger that comes our way, unlike a certain Slytherin who will quake in his boots in fear."

         "I'm not a damsel-in-distress," Lily said with a scowl, "I don't need saving from anyone, least of all, from you. And don't insult Severus..."

         While the two of them continued to bicker, Turais eyed the brown-hair boy beside him who became quite fixated at a spot in front of him. Remus said softly, “Maybe Professor Slughorn is trying to study some medicinal properties of the willow tree.” However, clearly no one heard the boy as they all chose to listen in on the entertainment provided by Lily and James.

         "I don't want to go with you," Lily said exasperatedly. The Gryffindor students originally between them were now dispersed, providing a clear path for confrontation between the two. The rest of the first-years continued to look between the two with clear interest. "I would rather study up on Charms."

         "What?! You would prefer to read textbooks over exploring Hogwarts," James gasped as he placed his hand over his heart dramatically.

         "Yes," Lily responded dryly. "Anything is better than whatever you are proposing -"

         James's eyes suddenly sparkled with interest as he pointed a finger straight at Lily's face. "That... that's a great frown, we will definitely need that to scare away the Horklumps along the way!"

         "The what ?" Lily looked so lost at the change of topics that she has momentarily forgotten to maintain her stiff expression.

         "Honourable Lady Evans, I invite you to join our company of valiant men -" James continued as Lily's frown came back in full force.

         "Which part of 'I don't want to' do you not understand, Potter?" Lily huffed.

         "Why wouldn't you want to come, dearest Miss Evans?" James asked, looking genuinely confused. Lily groaned into her hands.

         "Maybe because we are not friends ?" Lily returned. "And by the look of things, I don't want our relationship to progress further than strangers."

         James's hand reached for the fabric over his heart and clutched it. He decried, "You wound me, Miss Evans. My heart aches not for myself, but for you. I would never imagine such cold, terrible words from someone so warm-hearted and fair."

         "Get used to it then. There's plenty of heartaches if you continue to cross me," Lily said with a satisfied smirk.

         "Always want the last word, huh, Evans?"

         "I don't want the last word; I always have it," Lily replied before she darted ahead. James continued to follow her with his eyes admiringly.

         “Black! What are you doing here still?! You’re not allowed to follow us to the common room,” Pearson, who was at the top of the stair bellowed out over the crowd. The group stopped moving as they turned to look at the lone Slytherin as he realized they were two corridors away from their destination.

         “Pearson, do you really think I don’t know where the Gryffindor common room is by now?” the Slytherin smirked at her and shouted back, “It’s right behind the portrait of the Fat Lady.” 

         The prefect’s jaw dropped as she spluttered, “W… what… how did... you…”

         “Pearson, you heard him,” Kaiden appeared back into view beside the girl, "He knows. There’s no point in stopping him now. Come on, everybody! I want to go to bed!”

         As they continued to climb the stairs, James abandoned his conversation with Lily and appeared beside him . “Woah, Turais! How do you know where our common room is? Can you tell me where the Slytherin common room is?”

         “You’ll have to find out yourself,” Turais told the awestruck boy, “I’m sure you will find it in no time.”

         “Of course, I have a secret weapon ,” James said mysteriously and clearly very proud.

         “Oh, and what would that be?” Turais grinned at the mention of James’s Cloak of Invisibility.

         “It’s called a secret weapon for a reason, Turais,” James whispered. Turais snorted.

         “Well, just make you don’t forget to cover your feet or elbows properly with it.” 

         James stilled as Turais turned to look at the gobsmacked expression of the boy. Teasing him would never get old.

         “Woah… Sirius, your brother is so cool !” James gasped in amazement. “How did you know?! Wait, don’t tell me - I’ll figure out all your secrets one day!”  

         “Just don’t let me catch you in the act, James, or I’ll make sure to report you,” Turais teased the boy.

         “ Why would you do that, Turais?” James whined as he grabbed Turais’s arm and shook it violently. Turais laughed as they approached the portrait. “ Please don’t. I’ll do anything -”

         The Fat Lady was in her pink silk dress. She had a wine glass in her hand; clearly she was just practicing her atrocious singing skills when they arrived. If there were things that Turais appreciated from not being a Gryffindor, this was one of them. 

         “Password?” the Fat Lady asked.

         “Black!” Pearson’s voice echoed the hallway. “You need to leave before I say the password!”

         Turais acquiesced to the frowning girl who had her arms crossed while staring at him. He turned to his brother and said, “Sirius, you’ll do great in Gryffindor and you’ll make lots of friends. But you’ll tell me if anyone tries to bully you, right?”

         “I will, Turais,” Sirius gave Turais a tiny smile.

         “Is anyone going to give me the password?” the Fat Lady asked again, this time more irritably.

         Turais smiled as he ruffled his brother’s head one last time before turning to address everyone around him, “I’ll see you all around -”

         “Am I supposed to stay awake all night?!” the Fat Lady snapped at Pearson, who in turn glared at the Slytherin.

         “Black, now !”

         Suddenly, a brilliant idea came into his mind. He turned and walked through the crowd up to the portrait. The Fat Lady looked at him questioningly. 

         “What is a Slytherin doing all the way up here?”

         Turais side-eyed Pearson and spoke pleasantly to her, “Milady, I overheard Pearson at the feast when she said your vocal range is dismally low -” The fact that he was Slytherin immediately fled her mind as she narrowed her pastel eyes at the prefect in disdain. “I think you should prove her wrong in front of everyone once and for all.” 

         Blood drained from Pearson’s face as she realised what was about to happen.

         “How could you insult my ethereal voice and boundless talent?! I’ll show you what range is!” the Fat Lady snarled at the horrified prefect. Pearson shot Turais a dirty look as the Fat Lady started to clear her throat. Turais winked at Kaiden, who already stuck his fingers into his ears and grinned, and retreated hurriedly. The rest of the older students gave him the stink eyes but he just smirked mischievously.

         “Bye, Siri. Need to run!” Turais ran past his confused brother and the first-years as the Fat Lady started her first arpeggio scale.

         “Ah - ah - ah - AAHH! - ah - ah - ah…”

 

***

 

         Malfoy just concluded his speech when Turais emerged from the tunnel. Everyone turned their head towards the Black heir as he entered the dark and damp room that was dimly lit by the flickering flames on the fireplace. Long shadows of the columns were cast onto the entire student body while they stood like marble statues - pale, erect, and in utter silence.

         “How nice it is to see you, Black,” Malfoy said mildly, his voice ringing hollowly around the room. “I was just about to worry that we lost another Black to the Gryffindors. For complete disclosure, I took on the responsibility to deliver the usual speech.”

         "Thank you, Malfoy," Turais commented airily as he stepped forward from the shadows, “Seeing that I will be delivering the exact speech for the next four years, I don't mind that you aid me in this task, especially since this is your final chance to do so.”

         Malfoy’s jaws clenched at the words, “Times are changing, and swiftly. You shall fare well by heeding my advice and choose your allies wisely .”

         “Well said, Malfoy. Times are changing. But take care to recognize whether the momentum indicates temporary deviations or a more permanent alteration in my favour.”

         Turais smiled innocently at the Malfoy heir as the fireplace cackled and snapped softly in the distance.

         "We shall see, I suppose... but while you are trapped in this tiny pond flexing your political limb, I will be venturing out into the rolling seas of the real world very soon. I wonder who will make the bigger impact," Malfoy leered.

         Just as the confrontation reached a stifling point, the entrance door opened once more. All the Slytherins turned around to see the Head of House strolling into the common room.

         “Oh, Turais, m’boy! There you are!” Professor Slughorn said cheerfully as he honed in on Turais as though he was the only person in the entire room. “Can I borrow you for a few minutes? Oh - Lucius, you as well.” 

         The two boys nodded as they followed the professor out of the silent common room and headed towards his office.

         “I do apologize for my forgetfulness,” Turais said. Despite thinking of all the additional things he could be doing with a Time-Turner over summer, Turais had totally forgotten about his request in the face of Sirius's Sorting.

         “Oh, no harm done,” Slughorn said cheerily. “But it is a slight shame to not be able to have your brother in my House. I have taught all the Blacks, you know… Alas, it was not meant to be.”

         “I’m sure he is a brilliant addition to any house,” Turais said diplomatically. Malfoy sneered beside Slughorn at the words.

         “Of course, of course. If you are any sort of indication,” Slughorn winked at him as they entered his office. “Talent does run in the family, you know. Please take a seat."

         Once they were all seated, Slughorn started, "So... you might not be aware of this but both of you have applied this year to become the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot," Slughorn shuffled the papers in front of him and handed Malfoy a letter. "Lucius, you have been selected for the position for the third consecutive year. Congratulations."

         "Congratulations," Turais said as he tried to sound sincere.

         Malfoy smirked and said, "Thank you, Turais."

         "As for you, Turais, the selection panel has cited their concern in regards to your relative young age -" Malfoy's smirk grew ever larger. " - however , they were impressed by the amount of initiative you've shown in the past two years and decided to award you the second seat."

         Turais smiled as he took the acceptance letter from Slughorn while Malfoy's face fell at a comical reversal of fortunes. Turais wondered how much of this was due to Arcturus but he wasn't about to look in the gift horse's mouth.

         "Thank you, Professor," Turais said as Slughorn chuckled.

         "No worries, m'boy. I always love to aid my best and brightest students on their way to success," Slughorn said. "Lucius, that is all. Turais, would you please stay behind for a moment longer?"

         After Malfoy left, the Professor started again, "So... I received your request at the end of last year. Are you still set on taking four electives in addition to your core subjects?"

         “If that is possible. I am not worried about the workload, Professor,” Turais said eagerly.

         Slughorn eyed the boy solemnly as Turais nodded with a determined stance.

         “I would like to preface that I have complete confidence in your capability, Turais. Now... originally, Professor McGonagall and I were planning on applying for a Time-Turner for you, however, the Headmaster, upon receiving word from the Ministry of your successful application, was adamant that you should not be allowed access… ” 

         Turais’s heart fell upon hearing those words. He should’ve known that Dumbledore would never have allowed him access to a Time-Turner. Especially after his conversation with Nicolas Flamel. As his hopes of doing more sleuthing with the extra time was now dashed.

         “... We tried to convince him multiple times to no avail. Especially considering that he -” Slughorn’s voice stopped abruptly as though he almost misspoke. He cleared his throat and continued. “However, both Professor McGonagall and I think that you are a brilliant student and that you should not be held back in your studies due to this. Therefore, we have jointly decided that you shall be permitted to miss two Potions and Transfiguration classes per week in order to attend your additional elective courses provided that you do well on our final exams and visit us every weekend to ensure your normal progress in our classes.

         “That being said, we both agree that your skill levels are way beyond that of a third-year. Hence, we are not that worried about your in-class performance. If you wish to commit to this decision, here is your customized timetable. Consider it carefully and notify me of your decision by the end of this week.”

         Slughorn handed over his timetable and Turais realized that he only had three hours of Potions and Transfiguration classes instead of the normal five hours per week. The rest of them were replaced by a mixture of his four electives. 

         “Thank you, Professor,” Turais tried not to sound too crestfallen.

         Slughorn picked up his disappointment and looked at him sympathetically, “Turais, I’ll divulge some information in confidence.” Turais looked up at the Professor with interest. “Some thirty years ago, there was a brilliant student by the name Tom Riddle - perhaps the most brilliant Hogwarts has ever seen - who, upon his third year, made the exact same request. But Headmaster Dumbledore, then Deputy Headmaster, declined his application as well. They had a tense relationship that never quite resolved and I’m afraid you remind him of that student."

         “But isn’t it wrong to punish me due to his mistrust of another person?” Turias said blithely.

         Slughorn sighed. “Turais, despite his appearance of impartiality, we both know that he has an inherent distrust against Slytherin just like everybody else.

         “In fact, prior to your first arrival at Hogwarts two years ago, he had cautioned me about you. His exact words were: ‘keep an eye out for the new Black heir in case he was inclined to follow his family’s footsteps’. I did purely out of obligation but not anymore,” Slughorn eyed Turais wearily and spoke hastily. “In fact, I was certain that he was mistaken after our lunch together on the train. I told him plainly that he had nothing to worry about but he remained unconvinced until this day.”

         Turais maintained an air of nonchalance as his frustration threatened to over-spill internally. Despite knowing Dumbledore’s opinion of him, it was still painful to have his suspicions confirmed.

         “Thank you for entrusting me with this information, professor,” Turias said warmly. “I understand you have my best interest at heart and I will remember this gesture of kindness.”

         “Oh, silly boy. This is such a small matter,” Slughorn said airily but he looked pleased nonetheless. 

         “Is this all, Professor?" Turais asked.

         Slughorn smiled at him sadly as he left the room.

 

***

 

         When Turais returned to the common room, he saw Severus sitting alone on the emerald couches staring into the fireplace glumly. Turais sat down beside the boy, who jolted in alert, and asked, "Hey, Severus. Can I ask you something? Why did you attack James?"

         Severus's eyes flashed dangerously at the name and gritted out, "Your brother and him are best mates. You're just like everyone else - the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. You wouldn't believe me even if I told the truth!"

         "Try me," Turais said simply.

         "What makes you different?" Severus said.

         "For one, I'm a Slytherin so we think similarly. For two, I'm your friend -" Severus snapped his gaze up to Turais, "Are they compelling arguments?"

         Severus searched Turais's expression under the amber glow until he turned away and sighed, "Potter caught me looking at Lily walking to the Gryffindor table and he said she was no longer any of my business. I told him to leave me alone and he... he said that... that I won't have any trouble with that because I'm a l...loner."

         "Oh... James... why...?" Turais groaned as he rubbed his temples, feeling that a headache was threatening to surface. "Can you not insult people for a change?"

         "You believe me?" Severus gasped.

         "Trust me. That sounds exactly like something he would say," Turais said darkly. 'Especially to Severus of all people.'

         "I will try to make him apologize to you," Turais said as Severus's jaw dropped. "No promises there, though."

         "Oh... I... uh... wasn't expecting... I guess that sounds good..." Severus fumbled with his words, "... well, thanks."

         "Thank you for telling me, Severus," Turais said. "But I do have to say that violence does not solve anything."

         "I know..." Severus said. "I know it was stupid of me to attack him right there. If I just did it afterwards -"

         "NO!" Turais said sharply. "You need to know that it is never right to hurt anyone, no matter how much they've wronged you. Do you understand?"

         "Are you telling me to never fight back?!" Severus asked incredulously.

         "I didn't say that. I just said do not respond with violence," Turais said. "Well... Just a few months ago, when I was unconscious after my poisoning, Malfoy allowed all of Slytherin to bully those who weren't of pure blood. But I have always objected that, and Malfoy knew that very well. Malfoy wronged me, but I didn't punch him or hex him. I lived life as usual... and when the opportunity arose, I ensured that he would never dare to cross me again. Isn’t that a better revenge?" Turais asked.

         Severus looked at Turais with admiration in his eyes. "Yes... yes it is."

         "Revenge should never be about hurting someone or doing something illegal. It should be about living a better life than them and, when the opportunity arises, strike back at them. Do you understand now?"

         "I do."

         "Good. Off to bed you go, then," Turais said with a smile. "It's your first day of classes tomorrow."

         Severus nodded once before he scuttled off to his dormitory, but not without glancing back with an inexplicable expression.

 

***

 

         “Sirius!” 

         Turais shouted when he saw his brother, James, and Remus, heading into the Entrance Hall the next morning. His brother’s face lit up in happiness and turned to run towards him.

         His brother darted towards him with James in tow. The rows of Slytherin nearby eyed them with disdain but no one dared to speak up against a Black and a Potter, especially not with Turais present.

         While most might look upon the alliance with disgust and concern, it was now well-accepted amongst purebloods that the Blacks and the Potters were on friendly terms. The other students also looked at the two brothers with interest. Turais could hardly blame them for two brothers, two Black brothers, were Sorted into two different houses. They would certainly be curious as to how Turais, the brother who upheld all family values perfectly, interacted with Sirius, the brother who defied everything the Blacks stood for.

         “Good morning, Siri,” Turais immediately turned his attention to his younger brother. James snickered at the moniker and Sirius rubbed his neck in embarrassment.

         “Turais!” Sirius greeted excitedly. Then, he crossed his arms in a huff and said,  “You made us stand for almost two whole hours listening to the Fat Lady shriek at her wine glass like a banshee!”

         Turais suppressed a smile as he glanced at the lifeless Gryffindors splayed over the tables with a clear lack of sleep.

         “And we’re going to get you Slytherins back!” James declared confidently.

         “Turais is off-limits, James. Remember?” Sirius said as he placed a hand protectively on Turais’s arm. Turais felt a warm, giddy feeling in his heart and he loved it. James made a retching noise as though he was throwing up but Turais ignored him.

         “Fine, whatever, I just really want to get back at greasehead over there,” James said as he locked onto Severus. His eyes shone with a mischievous glint that reminded him of his task.

         "I believe Professor McGonagall is handing out timetables to the first-years right now," Turais pointed out.

         "Okay, we are going to head off first then," Sirius smiled. "Come on, James, Remus."

         "Actually, I would like to speak to James for a moment in private."

         Sirius looked between them and nodded. "Remus, let's go!" Remus gave a little wave before being dragged away physically by an impatient Sirius. Meanwhile, Alex and Jonty walked off to the Slytherin table.

         "So, what's the matter?" James asked. "Are you prepared to tell me the location of your common room?"

         "Unfortunately, it is something different," Turais adopted a clipped tone.

         "What is it then?" James asked curiously. He continued to look clueless.

         "It's about Severus -"

         "Why are we talking about something revolting?" James huffed in disgust. "I just lost my appetite for breakfast."

         Turais ignored his words. "Did you or did you not taunt Severus last night by saying that Lily was none of his business and that he is a loner?"

         "You are joking," James gasped. "He was the one who punched me! Why are you mad at me when you should be mad at him?!”

         "I scolded him yesterday night. He knows it is wrong to punch you, but he would not have done it if you didn't taunt him in the first place. You have some fault in this!"

         "Do you know why I called him a loner?” James challenged. “He called me a spoilt, pureblood brat who only cares about the latest broom models first. Well, I guess lying greaseball didn’t tell you this, did he? I say that we are even.”

         Turais hesitated. Severus neglected to mention that fact. If what James said was true, everything changed. Turais said, "Even if that is true, you should try and be the bigger person and not insult him back.”

         "What? You mean like how I did not fight back when he started punching me," James retorted. “I’m not stupid enough to throw a punch back at that prat even though I really wanted to, but I am not going to just let him insult me.”

         In the distance, Professor McGonagall shouted, “Mr Potter, you need to get your timetable now!”

         "James," Turais pleaded as he grabbed James's arm. "I am not allocating all the blame on either of you. But you need to acknowledge your share of the fault in this," Turais said. "It takes two to argue or fight and you rose to the challenge. Please just apologize to Severus and he will apologize to you as well."

         "I will apologize to every person and ghost on the planet before I will ever apologize to that greaseball!" James said. “When he insulted me, did I cry or punch him for it? No! He's the one who can't hold his temper down. He’s the one who needs to grow a thicker skin. He’s the only person who should be apologizing for yesterday.”

         With that, James stormed away. Turais was left at a loss.

Notes:

Turais’s point of view:
1. James tells Severus that Lily is no longer any of Severus’s business because she is a Gryffindor.
2. Severus calls James a spoilt pureblood brat and tells James to leave him alone.
3. James says that won’t be an issue because Severus is a loner.
4. Severus punches James, who doesn’t return the hits.
5. James deliberately swings his shoulder into Severus as he walks past.
6. Severus lies by omission when asked about the incident.
7. James declares he will never apologize to Severus.

Turais is a frustrated and confused boy because he really wants James and Severus to get along but they refuse to do so...

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-04-16

Chapter 35: Hairy Snout, Stony Heart (revised)

Notes:

Hey everyone,

New update! Also as a heads up, I will also be moving towards a biweekly update cycle (once every two weeks) for the rest of summer (at least) because I am starting a new job.

Stay safe!

- ravenclawblues 2020-05-01

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

HAIRY SNOUT, STONY HEART


 

 

         "This is getting too complicated,” Turais moaned into his hands. “I don't understand why James and Severus hate each other so much. They’ve only met yesterday.”

         "Why do you and Pierricoeur hate each other so much then?" Jonty asked.

         "I never hated him. His hatred for me, however, was likely because they served me first at Twilfitt and Tattings even though he was already there back in the summer before first-year..." Turais said. "And the rest is history."

         "And that was just the one day as well. Maybe it is the same for Potter and Snape," Jonty suggested. "Even God has a hater in the form of Satan. What makes us puny mortals so special as to not have any antagonistic relationships?"

         "But..." Turais stuttered, "But I am supposed to be able to prevent this from happening!"

         "What are you? Do you think better than God or whoever reigns supreme up there?" Jonty asked. “Because last time I checked, someone who claimed to be better than a god turned into a cursed spider for eternity.”

         "Of course not,” Turais scoffed. “I’m not even suggesting that.”

         "Then why are you holding yourself responsible for someone else's relationship problems? Even God can’t solve this given how relationship problems still exist. What makes you think you can solve it?”

         "I'm not... it's just... I just want them to be friends," Turais finished lamely. "Or at least not enemies."

         "What's so special about them?"

         "It's... never mind... I just imagined a world where they don't go after each other's throats."

         "You can't mold everything into your ideals, Turais. That’s not how the world works. Maybe some things are just not meant to be," Jonty said as Slughorn made his way towards the third-year cohort.

         "What electives will you be taking this year, Mr Fawley?” Professor Slughorn asked Alex.

         “Care of Magical Creatures, Magical Theory, and Arithmancy,” Alex announced. Slughorn consulted his tables and tapped his wand on a piece of parchment before handing the completed timetable over to the student.

         “And you, Mr Steward?”

         "Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Magical Theory,” Jonty said dully and received his timetable as well. Slughorn beamed at Turais quickly before heading back to the second-years he skipped.

         "But where is your timetable?” Jonty asked.

         “I have already sorted out my timetable with him yesterday night,” Turais shrugged. “I have been meaning to tell you both this since yesterday.”

         “Was that why he was looking for you yesterday?” Alex asked. Turais nodded in confirmation as he pulled out his timetable and handed it to Alex. As Alex’s eyes widened, Turais shifted uncomfortably as he waited for his friend’s reaction.

         “Turais, Slughorn allowed you to drop half of Potions and Transfiguration classes for your electives?” Alex exclaimed as Jonty snatched Turais’s timetable from his hands.

         “Wow, that’s blatant favouritism right here,” Jonty confirmed, “But we know you know everything already so you will be fine. But we’re not going to share a lot of classes this year then…”

         “That’s why I’m considering not to do those electives -”

         “Don’t be daft, Turais,” Alex scolded gently, “You should go for it. Learning new things is important, especially when it seems like you’re just tutoring us in those classes. There is plenty of time for us to see each other outside of class.”

         “Yeah, I guess…” Turais said, “But it just feels off, not being with you two.”

         “Well, you’re going to have to do that for at least one class anyways since you’re not taking Care of Magical Creatures.”

         “Yeah, at least I still share all the same electives as you, Turais,” Jonty said.

         “Actually… you are in a different Study of Ancient Runes... Magical Theory and Arithmancy class than him,” Alex commented as he compared their timetables.

         “Aw, man! This stinks,” Jonty bemoaned, “The three of us won’t be together in so many courses and now I have to be alone for all my electives?!”

         Eyeing his watch, Turais turned to the both of them and said, “I will head off to Divination now, it's a long way to the West Tower. Alex, have fun with Professor Kettleburn. Jonty, have fun at Magical Theory.”

         Alex grinned as he waved Turais goodbye while Jonty glared at his breakfast murderously.

         Once Turais left the Great Hall, he found himself with a group of third-year who were all trying to find their way to the Divination classroom in the West Tower.

         “Hey, Turais!” Gerald shouted as he swung his arm around Turais. “Are you heading to Divination as well?” 

         “Yes, are you?”

         "Of course I am!" Gerald shouted excitedly. "Have you seen her series of Quidditch World Cup predictions last year? She's the real deal! I mean - my predictions were the same as hers but - gosh, she is wonderful! Also..."

         'If she can help me find the Hufflepuff's Cup and Riddle's Diary with her Inner Eye then I'd be her biggest fan...' Turais thought to himself.

         “... I think most of the Hufflepuffs chose this class and Care of Magical Creatures as our electives. The other ones sounded like too much work,” he said airily.

         “But isn’t a Hufflepuff supposed to be hard-working though?” Turais teased as Gerald gave him an unimpressed look.

         “But aren’t you the one who is all ‘no-prejudice-no-stereotype’ though?” Gerald retorted.

         “Touché,” Turais said as Gerald gasped loudly.

         “Did I just win an argument against the mighty Black? My life is complete!” He shouted as the group of third-years around them snickered at his dramatic display.

         “Well, I'm secure enough with my intellect to yield the occasional argument,” Turais said. “Especially considering how I just lost one to Jonty.”

         “That you are,” Gerald agreed. After walking for a few more minutes, they have arrived at their destination.

         “The map says it’s here,” Gerald consulted his castle map while looking around. Turais looked up to see a trapdoor and nudged his companion.

         “It’s up there,” Turais pointed above their heads.

         “Well, how are we supposed to get up -”

         As though hearing their demands, the trapdoor swung open and a silver ladder descended from the opening. Turais looked at Gerald and shrugged.

         “I guess she heard your big mouth.”

         Gerald shoved Turais slightly off-balance, clearly offended.

         All the Divination students climbed up the stairs one-by-one as they found themselves in a large, circular room draped with heavy crimson curtains and scarves that looked as though they had been sitting there for centuries. Twenty small, circular tables were arranged in two rings around a central podium a few steps below them. The air was warm and stale with dense clouds of smoke and particles that Turais wanted to sneeze just based on what he saw.

         “Welcome…” a raspy voice sounded from somewhere in the chamber, “Please follow your Inner Eye to search for your optimal seat for viewing somewhere…”

         Everything was so dimly lit with the single candles on each table and the fireplace that Turais could barely find his way to a table, let alone his “optimal seat” using his non-existent “Inner Eye.” However, Turais did manage to fumble his way to a table with Gerald.

         “Welcome to Divination, class,” Professor Castiella Trelawney appeared from the shadows and walked slowly towards the centre of the room. Turais could barely make out the Professor’s appearance but she looked like a large, glittering insect with huge circular glasses, mystical garments of various amulets and rings, and head of white curly hair. She also had a permanent hunch that made her look even tinier than she already was. 

         “Few people have the Gift of Sight - or in mundane speech - the ability to see through the foggy veils of the future and predict what has yet to come,” she said mystically as she scanned the room, “One of my ancestors, Cassandra Trelawney was a brilliant Seer, the best of her time and after. I, unfortunately, do not wield such immense talent. But I do have a stronger connection to this art than most. While Divination is not a learnt skill, even those that are not Gifted can cultivate their inner magic to synchronize with that of natural magic. If you are fortunate enough, you might just manage to sample a flavour of this powerful magic that flows through space and time.

         “Today, we will be studying one of the most well-known branches of divination - tasseomancy. Can anyone tell me what this word means?" Trelawney asked.

         Beside him, Gerald's hand shot up. Trelawney gestured for him to speak. "Yes, Mr..."

         "Mr Macmillan, Professor. Tasseo is derived from the French word, tasse, which means cup. Mancy is the greek suffix meaning divination. Therefore, tasseomancy is the art of interpreting patterns in a cup. And the most popular form in Britain is reading the patterns of tea leaves."

         "Precisely, Mr Macmillan," Trelawney said, pleased with the answer. Gerald gave Turais a smug grin and wink. "I will come around and fill up your teacup in front of you…” she started to give instructions of teacup divination. Turais rolled his eyes and went through the motions. This class was shaping up to be a waste of time. This Trelawney was definitely more modest and clear-headed than her successor, but she had yet to impress Turais with anything that would keep him in his class for the entire term.

         After Turais and Gerald drank the scalding tea, they swilled the dregs and drained the cup as instructed and swapped with each other.

         “Hmmm… so there is a presence of a bold and pronounced line of dots in the fourth house…” Gerald wondered loudly as he stared at the cup. Biting on his lips as he flipped through his book, Unveiling the Mists , “... and it represents... a chain. So you have a strong attachment and is bound tightly to your family and friends - true enough...”

         "Wow, I'm impressed how quickly you are interpreting this," Turais said.

         "It's called reading the book over summer, Turais," Gerald said as he scanned the lines on the book while muttering to himself.

         Turais was still staring at Gerald’s cup with little interest. It was partially his fault because he only ever made up his dream chart assignments with 1001 ways to die and never paid attention in class as Harry Potter. But it was also partially due to the drowsiness that was settling in comfortably from the dark surroundings, the soft candle lights, and the sweet incense of cedar, rosewood, and agarwood.

         “... a cross in the outer ring, which means… trials and tribulation - fair enough… for life - oh, not good, mate…  sorry about that - wait, it also represents the Northern heavens, which means winter - so troubling times starting December then... I guess...?

         “And there is a moon-like shape on the wall of the cup... so failure in academics in the near future? - yeah, right - like that's going to happen...”

         “You seem to be doing a pretty good job there, Gerald. I think your Inner Eye has been awoken, opened, whatever the proper term is,” Turais barely stifled a yawn. ‘Do you want to read your own cup too?”

         “Turais, you cannot read your own cup - did you not listen?” Gerald muttered, clearly engrossed in the self-perpetuating prophecies on Turais’s life. “So, death by combat - woah - and death by poisoning - that’s surprisingly accurate...”

         “Let me see the cup, my dear,” Professor Trelawney suddenly popped out of thin air in front of them. She rotated the cup and analyzed it closely. “A lifetime of trials hmm? And also a strong affinity with death - yes, the black rose - Do you see that, Mr Macmillan?”

         “Yes, of course - and a lock in the center of the cup… which means… Turais has been surrounded by death since birth -”

         “Life amidst death, indeed… you have a strong gift of interpretation, Mr MacMillan,” she whispered reverently. “We must continue to cultivate your talent. Why don't you join me for an additional hour after classes today?”

         Gerald's enthusiasm suddenly dampened. “Uh, I don’t think that’s necessary, Professor.”

         “You may yet change your mind. I sense that you will decide upon one sen and fort before winter’s last breath,” she finished and glided away to the next table.

         “Uh, what does that mean?” Gerald asked in a hushed voice.

         “I don’t know. You’re the one with the gift of interpretation ,” Turais couldn’t help but sound sarcastic. Trelawney turned around at glared at Turais sternly, but Turais couldn't bring himself up to feel sorry.

         "Oh, sod off," Gerald scoffed quietly as he sent a brilliant, beaming smile at the Professor. "Just because you don't have the gift doesn't mean you have to be a prissy mug about it."

         "Yeah, yeah. I'm really happy for you," Turais deadpanned. He received a sock on the arm as a response. "Hey, aren't you Hufflepuffs supposed to be friendly? Why are you so violent?!"

         Turais received a second sock on the arm as an answer.

         After Divination, Turais parted ways with Gerald and immediately sprinted down the halls to the opposite end of the castle. He reached the classroom with mere moments to spare. Panting slightly, as he eyed the filled classroom. Alex, who saw Turais entering, gave him a rueful expression as he gestured at Summerbee beside him. The only opening that remained was the sit in front... which turned out to be beside Pierricoeur.

         Grinding on his teeth, Turais steeled his mind as he walked to the seat, pulled out the chair, and sat down beside his long-time enemy.

         “Pierricoeur,” Turais said as he sat down beside the boy.

         "Black," Pierricoeur gritted out. 

         Just as he was wondering how to navigate the conversation, Professor Septima Vector trotted purposefully into the room. She charmed the curtains open and flooded the room with natural light.

         “Class, turn to page one of your textbooks and read the introduction, you have ten minutes,” the professor with long, black, and curly hair said quickly. As she made her way to the front of the classroom, she slapped her perfectly manicured hands on the desk across the aisle. “Open your book, Mr Pierce! The book isn’t going to read itself.” The Hufflepuff jumped as he opened up the book hastily under the watchful, dark eyes of the professor.

         After exactly ten minutes, an alarm blared out from her wand and she said loudly, “Someone summarize the chapter for me.” 

         She looked out at the nervously awaiting class, “Nobody? I’m just going to pi- thank you, Mr Pierricoeur.”

         The boy glanced up at the professor and said, “Karuzos states that there are two branches of Arithmancy, Numerology and Transcendental Logic. While Numerology focuses on the divine and mystical relationship between a number and coinciding events, Transcendental Logic focuses on concrete calculations and mathematics.”

         Vector nodded at his words, “Mr Pierricoeur, can you give me an example, not one from what you just read, of Numerology?”

        "The number thirteen, Professor," Pierricoeur replied. "This number has been associated with bad luck and is inferred to be the cause of misfortune in many cases. The superstition that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die is an example of such. There is nothing inherently calculable in these divinatory statements and there are only prevailing theories in attempt to explain the inherent magical associations between the number and the events."

        "How about Transcendental Logic?"

         “A Heptagram forms the basis of most protection wards because it is the most stable and powerful polygon. However, this has no relation with the divinatory properties of the number seven as outlined by Bridget Wenlock. It has been proven to be due to the attraction and repulsion forces between runes. The closer the runes are, the more repulsion force they experience and the more unstable they get. But if the runes are too far apart, the attractive forces would be too weak. The proportional distances between nodes and points of a heptagram has the perfect balance between those forces, hence its configuration is most favourable and stable.”

         “Correct. We will touch upon the Carneiro’s Principles of Magical Energetics in January. Twenty points to Ravenclaw,” Vector gave the boy a quick smile before she continued.

         "We will focus on a few selected theories in the first month of classes, then we will shift our focus to Transcendental Logic, which is also the main part of our class. There will be a lot more calculations involved. And by the end of this year, Transcendental Logic will hopefully help explain some questions you might have about magic, such as why Transfiguration is an exact magic and why some spells are inherently more difficult to cast than others.”

         In the next hour, Turais struggled with the contents of a class for the first time. Doing calculations and consulting numerical charts were simply outside his comfort zone. On the other hand, Pierricoeur seemed like a duck that took to water in this course. He was clearly in his own element.

         By the end of the class, Turais’s head was hurting from all the information and it seemed like everyone felt the same with the notable exception of Pierricoeur.

         “I’m surprised that you did not answer a single question in this class yet, Black," Pierricoeur commented with a smirk.

         Feeling a bit miffed, Turais turned towards the boy only to find that he had already disappeared.

         'That might be for the better,' Turais thought. He was thankful that despite having the same classes, Pierricoeur and he never had to endure each other's silent and unfriendly company during the long trek between the Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes class.

         Eyeing his watch, Turais immediately dashed towards the Ancient Runes classroom, which was, once again, on the other side of the castle. In contrast to the brightly-lit hallway just a door away, the windowless, rectangular room was dimly lit by the numerous candle stands that lined the walls. They cast long, ominous shadows over the entire classroom as pairs of students sat quietly in an oppressive silence. Behind the blackboard was a spiral staircase that led to a landing with a single door that oversaw the entire classroom. 

         When Turais arrived, he realized that he was the last student yet again. But this time, he was also late.

         He knocked on the classroom door as Professor Bodrick Mather turned towards him with a single eyebrow arched brow.

         "Sorry for being late, Professor," Turais said while panting heavily. 

         "Don't just stand there. Go take your seat," the elderly wizard said before he turned back to the blackboard.

         He scanned for an open seat and found that there was only one opening... which was the seat directly in front of the teacher's desk near and next to Pierricoeur. Turais groaned internally as he shuffled to the seat.

         "Didn't even bother with an excuse, Black?" Pierricoeur hissed under his breath.

         Turais glared at the boy in shock while he continued to pant slightly. "You were in Arith -"

         "Not interested," Pierricoeur interrupted. Turais gaped at the boy as he felt his anger rising. Pierricoeur took a look at his face and smirked smugly.

         Turais hissed angrily, "What is wrong with you -"

         "Mr Black, Mr Pierricoeur," Turais suddenly realized that the Professor was standing in front of their desks. "Is there something you would like to share with the entire class?"

         "No, sir," Turais said. "I apologize for the distraction I've caused."

         The Professor nodded as he turned to Pierricoeur expectantly.

         Pierricoeur shot Turais a loathing glare before he gritted out, "I apologize as well."

         "Good, then I'm sure you will agree to ten points from Ravenclaw and five points from Slytherin," Professor Mather declared.

         "Why do I get more points deducted?" Pierricoeur protested. "He's the one who’s late as well!"

         "Make that fifteen points from Ravenclaw then since you clearly don't know why you were in the wrong. And detention after class today," Professor Mather said as he turned back to the board. 

         Pierricoeur fumed murderously.

         In the subsequent hour, Turais was engaged in a tense hour-long lecture. Despite the interesting content, Turais was completely distracted by Pierricoeur's every movement and by the end, he was just exhausted of it all.

 

***

 

         "Urgh... I had enough of Pierricoeur for the entire term," Turais moaned as he fell backwards onto his bed after the first day of classes ended.

         Turais belatedly realized that he had practically spent the entire day in Pierriceour's joyless companionship as they also shared the Slytherin-Ravenclaw Charms class and the subsequent Magical Theory class (although he was able to sit with Alex for both classes).

         "I had to sit beside Pierricoeur for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. It was awkward, to say the least."

         Alex gave Turais a sympathetic look.

         "That stinks, mate," he said. "I'm sorry for not being able to keep a spot for you in Arithmancy. Summerbee just took the spot because she didn't want to sit directly in front of the professor."

         "It's alright," Turais said. "Pierricoeur wasn't that bad, but his snide comments just rubbed me the wrong way - constantly."

         "That's Pierricoeur on his best behaviour," Alex said dryly.

         "I don't know how to survive the entire year next to him..." Turais groaned.

         "Just pretend he isn't there and mind your own business."

         "I guess... But his mouth is going to get him in trouble. Mark my words -"

         Suddenly, there was loud shout and some laughter coming from the common room. Turias leaped up and exited the dormitory only to be immediately confronted by a bullying situation.

         "Hey, listen to this, everyone!" one of the taller first-years laughed as he waved a piece of paper in his hand and out of reach from a struggling black-haired boy.

         "What is happening here?" Turais's deadly cold tone permeated around the room. Everyone stopped in their tracks as Turais strolled over in between Severus and the offending boy.

         Travers, a second year, stood up from the couches and said, "Black, they were just playing -"

         "I shall remind you once again, Mr Travers, that I am Mr Black to you," Turais said coolly. "Also, this is not - as you put it - playing around. This is a blatant act of bullying and it will not be tolerated in this school."

         Turais turned to the offending boy and asked, "What is this that you have in your hand, Mr Runcorn?"

         "A letter," Runcorn responded stiffly.

         "Is this letter yours?"

         "No."

         "Did the owner give it to you willingly?"

         "No."

         "Then you have no business in having this letter in your possession," Turais snapped as he plucked the letter from the boy's unresisting hand. 

         "Does this letter belong to Mr Snape?" Turais asked.

         "Yes... it's mine," Severus said meekly. Turais returned the letter at once.

         Turais turned his attention to the rest of the room. "You may not understand my rules, but they are common sense rules that should not require me to teach you. But yet, here we are.

         "I know that all of you are thinking that this behaviour is acceptable because Mr Snape here is a half-blood. However, your actions tonight have just proven to me that superior blood status says absolutely nothing about your superiority as an upstanding human being.

         "I cannot believe that I have to repeat myself every year. Behave like proper, courteous human beings is my sole requirement from all of you. That means no bullying, no violence, no name-calling, being respectful  to one another. This is not a request. This is a command," Turais said sharply. "Tell everyone who is absent about what I just said. If I see another incident, it will be extremely unpleasant for all of us. Take care."

          Turais finished as he accompanied Severus back to his room.

         "Severus, if you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate to contact me," Turais said. "Your blood status does not bother me in any way and I wish to see you flourish and become successful in whatever you pursue. Do you understand?"

         "Thank you," Severus said softly as he clutched the letter to his chest tightly.

         Turais eyed the boy carefully before asking, "So why did you misrepresent the events during the Sorting?"

         Severus froze. "W...what do you mean?"

         "Either confess or deny the claim, Severus. There is no use in feigning ignorance since I confronted James today," Turais said, "Why did you neglect to say you were the one who insulted James first?"

         Severus looked up at Turais in shock. "I... I... I didn't know you were actually going to talk to him..."

         "But that is not a valid reason to lie about this," Turais said.

         "I'm s...sorry, Turais," Severus whispered guiltily. "I... just... I didn't mean to shove him. He was just such a prat about Lily and I couldn't control myself..."

         "That's okay. We all have bad days," Turais said. "As long as you recognize that you were wrong and you sincerely apologize for it, you deserve a second chance."

         "You want me to apologize to Potter again?" Severus asked.

         "Yes," Turais said. "For insulting him. But he should apologize to you for the same reason as well, if only I can convince him to..."

 

***

 

         In what turned out to be a pleasant surprise, there was no explosive encounters from the Black family yet. Sirius was still sitting with his Gryffindor friends after the second night with seemingly no repercussions. However, Turais really should have known it was only the calm before the storm.

         "So... your first orientation session with the Wizengamot Parliamentarian," Jonty said with interest as he read Slughorn's note that was passed on to him at the beginning of lunch. For the next four Saturdays, Turais would have to spend most of his day learning the ropes of Wizengamot procedures in preparation for his actual time in the Wizengamot come October. "My father has much to say about his character."

         "Oh," Turais gasped with interest, "Do tell."

         "Mildly put... my father thinks he is a sanctimonious and condescending nutter that should be locked up in a museum and placed alongside the displays of Bodrog the Bore and Drehkirt the Drab..." Jonty hummed, "... imagine him saying that with more colourful language."

         "Well, there is only one way to find out," Turais said as he heaved himself from the table. "I'll see you back in the common room."

         Just as he was about to exit the Great Hall, a Hufflepuff boy ran past him and yelled at the top of his lungs.

         "The Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Slughorn just went to the school gates by the viaduct!"

         Everyone in the Hall perked up in interest. 

         "Mr Fascino!" Professor Sprout said, "There is no need to shout at the top of your lungs about such a thing. They might just be enjoying a morning stroll."

         "But Professor," Fascino continued. "Lord Black and many Ministry personnels are here as well. There's the Department Head of Magical Education and the Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement."

         "What? Is this a national emergency?" Sprout muttered to herself. "Oh dear, please don't tell me the Minister is here as well." 

         "No, Professor."

         "Good... good..." Sprout muttered, although her expression said it was anything but that.

         Excited murmurs erupted everywhere as they started to search everywhere for the Black brothers. Turais, however, snapped his head immediately towards Sirius at once. He was also looking at him grim with realization and fear.

         Turais tilted his head towards the Great Hall and Sirius nodded. He stood up, unaffected by what James was telling him, as he passed all the Gryffindors who were looking at him with concern and pity. Meanwhile, some of the Slytherins were looking at Turais gleefully as though this was his comeuppance. Michael shot Turais a worried look as he walked by but Turias merely smiled.

         Once the brothers reconvened outside the doors to the Great Hall, Turais took Sirius's trembling hands into his and held them still.

         "I'm here, always," Turais said softly.

         Sirius nodded erratically as his chest rose and fell from the heavy, laboured breathing.

         "Ah, I see the news of your arrival has been circulated already," Dumbledore said good-naturedly as he walked past the threshold into the Entrance Hall. Beside him were Arcturus, Orion, Mr Tofty (which Turais recognized as the O.W.L. examiner whom he performed the Patronus to), and Michael's father. Along with the Hogwarts professor were visible behind them, they were in various states of discomfort while the students made less-than-subtle attempts to eavesdrop as they huddled around the Great Hall doors.

         "Why do you pretend to be so pleasantly surprised?" Arcturus snarled. He was positively smoldering in rage. "One might presume this is your exact purpose for refusing access through your Floo."

         "I assure you this is all in accordance to protocol and -" Dumbledore stopped talking when there was a small but clear 'hem, hem.'

         Turais suddenly felt a spasm on the back of his right hand. He looked down in search for something when he realized it was unblemished. Feeling slightly stupid, he looked up and gasped in alarm. There was a lady of small stature squeezed her way between the towering men to the front. She was dressed from head to toe in a revolting shade of pink that merely aggravated the fake, simpering smile on her hideous toad-like features.

         A rush of hatred thrummed throughout Turais's body.

         "Yes, Ms Umbridge?" Dumbledore asked.

         "Why are you here?" Turais growled at the same time.

         "Turais," Arcturus said warningly. "Ms Umbridge is the Head of Improper Use of Magic Office and she is here to argue Sirius's case on his behalf."

         "Oh, poor Mr Black is merely distressed by our intrusion," Umbridge said sweetly with her high-pitched voice. "I am not the least offended by his reaction, Lord Black. Instead, I think we all ought to be offended by the Headmaster's actions."

         "Headmaster," Umbridge turned her attack on Dumbledore, "We all have become unwitting actors in your play that dramatized a small, insignificant incident into something wildly out of proportion. No one, let alone the gifted youngs of the illustrious Black family, should be subjected to the mental trauma from this unseemly display. You are setting a terrible example for suggesting that all discord should be exposed to public scrutiny and unnecessary rumours." 

         Umbridge sighed as she shook her head, "But this just goes to show how vitally important a Headmaster's management of this historical school has on the nurturing of our young and their gifts. In contrast, a Headmaster's mismanagement and erroneous decisions will poison our most valuable and most vulnerable minds... such as placing blind faith in a old, battered Hat to decide a boy's fate during the most impressionable period of his life. If that isn’t a blatant misuse of magic, then I don't know what else fits the definition. Headmaster, I do sincerely hope that you take note on what legacy you leave behind."

         "Thank you for your enlightening speech, Ms Umbridge," Dumbledore said with a bow. "We shall talk more in my office."

         Turais moved to walk with them when Slughorn stopped him and said, "Turais, did you forget you have a meeting with the Wizengamot Parliamentarian?"

         "I think this matter is of greater importance," Turais said as Sirius clutched his hands tighter.

         "Turais," Arcturus said. "Go. There is nothing you can add to the discussion." 

         His look allowed no further argument as Turais nodded.

         "Hey, Sirius," Turais said. "Everything will be fine."

         Sirius looked at him pleadingly with his wide, watery eyes before he broke contact with him and followed Professor Slughorn down into the dungeons under the watchful gaze of the entire party.

 

***

 

         Turais sprinted all the way from his meeting to the Slytherin common room. He slammed the door to his dormitory open and asked hurriedly, "What happened? Is Siri here or is he still in Gryffindor?"

         "Calm down, Turais," Jonty said.

         "How can I calm down?!" Turais said worriedly. "I've been stuck with Mr Flack for the entire day with no news regarding my brother and you tell me I should stay calm?! Is he still in Gryffindor?"

         Jonty and Alex shared a look and shook their heads with a sigh.

         "WHAT?!" Turais shouted. "Oh no, Siri is going to hate it here. He hates the cold, damp, green, silver, lake - everything about this place - I can transfigure his bed easily enough - his robes as well - environmental Spells and -" Turais looked up at the translucent dome that observed the lake " - I think I can read up on transfiguring the ceiling into something that shows the sky I guess - might be difficult but should be doable..."

         He then heard snickers coming from his two friends that turned into full-on uninhibited laughter.

         "What? Talk to me! Tell me something!"

         That just made them laugh harder as they clutched their stomachs and wheezed.

         "Did you see your brother on your way back?" Jonty said in between gasps of air.

         "NO! That's why I'm losing my mind," Turais said.

         "Well... why didn't you see him even if it is after curfew?" Jonty asked.

         That was true... 

         "Oh... OH!" Everything suddenly made sense. Turais gasped out loud, "Sirius is still in Gryffindor! I can't believe I didn't connect the dots."

         "No, you didn't," Alex said as he wiped a tear with his finger. "I'm enjoying this frazzled side of you immensely."

         "Word," Jonty said as he cleared his throat.

         "Well, I'm going to head to bed now so I can see Sirius early tomorrow at the Gryffindor tower and congratulate him!" Turais said excitedly as he rummaged for his pyjamas. "This is so exciting."

         "I'm sure it is," Jonty drawled. "Most exciting."

 

***

 

         Early in the morning, Turais climbed up near the entrance of the Gryffindor common room just as an irritated voice was shouting blearily.

         "It is half-past eight in the morning! On a Sunday! Why can't you boys be like normal first-years and sleep in!"

         Then, Turais saw James and Sirius muttering intensely as they walked past him.

         " - Remus wouldn't do that, he looked ill so he should be at the Hospital Wing - "

         'Remus? What's happened to Remus?' Turais thought.

         "Hey Siri," Turais called out as the two Gryffindors stricken and froze. James glared at Turais with suspicion. “Hello James.”

         "Turais... hi..." Sirius said nervously.

         "What do you want?" James asked with clear hostility. Turais had a feeling it had something to do with their recent confrontation.

         "Did something happen?" Turais asked Sirius.

         "Well... I mean..." Sirius started to say, but he was immediately interrupted by James.

         "There's nothing!" James said loudly as he shot a menacing glare at Sirius, whose eyes widened. "Nothing at all, isn't that right, Sirius?"

         When Sirius failed to respond, still looking completely bewildered, James punched him in the arm and repeated again, more dangerously, "Isn't that right, Sirius?"

         "Uh..." Sirius was glancing between Turais and James, "...yeah... that sounds about right -" Turais glared at his brother intensely and Sirius whimpered, "- Remus went missing since yesterday lunch. He wasn't in bed last night."

         'Full moon. Lycanthrope. Remus.' 

         Turais wanted to slap himself for forgetting that it was full moon last night. But there was just so much happening recently.

         Then, he registered that James socked Sirius in the shoulder while Sirius was staring at the floor guiltily. James hissed, "Sirius! You're going to get Remus into trouble! Your brother is a Slytherin and he’s on greaseball’s side."

         "But Turais always helps me," Sirius argued, then he turned to look at Turais. "You are helping Remus too, right?"

         "Of course," Turais said while James muttered something angrily under his breath. "So you two were heading to the Hospital Wing?" Sirius nodded. "Let's go there together then."

         When they reached the Hospital Wing, they found that it was void of anyone named Remus. Madam Pomfrey was also nowhere to be seen.

         However, there was a little boy sleeping soundly on the bed closest to the door. Half of his face, including his eye was covered by bandage.

         "Who managed to get hurt five days into the school term?" Turais mused. He noticed that James was fidgeting uncomfortably beside him. "What's up with you, James?"

         "N...no! Nothing!" James said brightly. "I'm just glad Remus is not hurt." Turais narrowed his eyes at the boy as he quickly changed the topic. "If Remus is not here, then where would he be?" James asked as he questioned Turais in return. "Y...you are not going to rat him out, are you?"

         "Of course he's not," Sirius huffed in Turais's defense. "My brother is not a snitch, unlike stupid Reggie."

         "Okay... I'm just making sure," James said with uncertainty as he looked at Turias suspiciously.

         "Listen, James,” Turais said. “I know you are still mad about yesterday, but I’m not on your side or Severus’s side. I just want you two to make up with each other. It’s no fun to have an enemy.”

         "Speak for yourself, Turais," James said as his eyes flashed dangerously. “I’m happy to find the perfect test subject.” The look then left him as he turned towards Turais. “I’m just going to say this one last time. I’m not apologizing to him. Either stop trying to make me apologize or we are no longer friends.”

          Turais’s blood chilled at the insinuation that James was willing to break off all relations with him. He was just frozen as the shock radiated throughout his body and numbed mind.

         "James!” exclaimed Sirius. “Turais is my brother!”

         "And he’s a Slytherin," returned James steely. “So what is it going to be, Turais?”

         Turais gaped. He didn’t expect himself to be placed in such a predicament. But James issued his ultimatum... Well, clearly James did not respond well to more forceful coercion.

         "Fine... I promise,” Turais lied and James grinned victoriously.

         "I knew you would come around!" James said happily as all the previous coldness dissipated at once.

         "So where should we go check first?” James asked Turais while Sirius frowned beside his friend.

         "Uh... let’s check the library first...” Turais said as he ignored Sirius’s strange frown.

         Turais, of course, knew that Remus and Madam Pomfrey were most likely at the Shrieking Shack. But he decided the best course of action was to let Sirius and James's curiosity burn out naturally under his watch lest they get themselves into any trouble.

         They wandered around the castle and the castle grounds, even the edge of the Forbidden Forest under James's insistence. But Remus was nowhere to be found. 

         Finally, they decided to return to the Great Hall for lunch. And on their way, they came face-to-face with the elusive boy they were searching for the entire morning.

         "Remus!" The boy jumped at the sound and turned towards them. "Where were you?!" James dashed up and clutched the boy's shoulder. "Sirius and I stayed up the entire night waiting for you! We were walking all over the castle trying to find you!"

         The pale boy's eyes widened as he looked at the three of them. "You... you waited for me? But why?"

         "What do you mean why?" Sirius asked, confused. "Of course we were. Because we were worried about you."

         "Oh..." Remus said softly. Then, he nodded to himself as though something suddenly made sense. "Don't worry, I won't lose Gryffindor any house points -"

         "Are you deliberately thick?" James asked as his hands gripped the boy's shoulder tighter, wrinkling his robes. "We don't care about the bloody house points. We are worried about you, wanker. You were looking pale since yesterday afternoon and we thought you were sick or lying unconscious dying somewhere."

         "Oh... OHH!" Remus's eyes widened comedically. Then, he flushed red. "I'm fine... I was just as the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey was tending to me all night long."

         "But we were just at the Hospital Wing a few hours ago," James said. "It was empty."

         "Well..." Remus's eyes darted around. "I was dismissed just before you visited then..."

         "When did you leave? It was ten in the morning when we came," Sirius interjected. Turais rose his eyebrow at the blatant lie.

         "I left at around nine-thirty," Remus said. "I guess you just missed me."

         "Oh... I misspoke," Sirius said. "I meant to say we were at the Hospital Wing at nine... not ten."

         Remus paled further when he realized he was caught out in a lie. 

         "Hey Sirius, let off a little," Turais stepped in. "Remus still looks a bit peaky. He must have misread the clock when it was eight-thirty. I do that occasionally."

         Sirius's eyes narrowed at the words suspiciously but did not comment further. Remus looked visibly relieved at the out Turais provided. "Yeah... my furry brain... I'm stupid for misreading clocks, sorry for making all of you worry about me. You didn't have to..."

         "The most important thing is that we found Remus and that he is safe," Turais said calmly as the boys continued to stare at Remus. "I'm hungry, why don't we go for lunch?"

         "Yeah, I'm famished," Remus said eagerly. 

         Surely, the two boys dropped the topic and Remus's shoulder slumped in relief as they started to head towards the Great Hall. Before, they entered. Turais pulled Remus aside.

         "If you want to tell me anything, you know I'm always here to listen, right?" Turais said softly. "Anything at all."

         What was intended to be reassuring seemed to have an opposite effect on Remus as the blood drained from his face.

         "I... thank you, Turais..." Remus said stutteringly. "I... should go... I will see you... around.”

 

***


         During the next Divination class, Turais was focused on maneuvering the tea leaves into the right configuration when his partner hissed angrily, "What are you doing? First, you vanished the paper of my observations. Now, you're changing the tea leaves?!"

         Turais ignored his friend as he finished up. Then, he raised his hand and caught the Professor's attention.

         "How may I offer guidance?" she said.

         "Professor, can you interpret this cup?" Turais asked innocently.

         "Mr Macmillan should have been able to answer that," the Professor said, but she took the cup regardless. Gerald glared at Turais with crossed arms. Turais mouthed an apology as Trelawney rotated the cup and frowned.

         "I've never seen such a combination of symbols before..." she muttered to herself. "All of them strongly points towards a unifying observation for long-term effects. This is highly unusual for tasseomancy, which is known for its variability and a mixture of insights into both the near and far futures. I would expect this sort of result from a tarot reading."

         "Are you certain this is what you saw in the cup after drinking the tea?" Trelawney asked Turais. Turais didn't expect her to be so much more competent than her successor.

         "Yes," Turais lied while Gerald huffed. "What do you suggest I do given the dire prediction? I interpreted it as a world engulfed in flames by a previously unknown malignant force."

         "That's exactly my point, Mr Black," Trelawney said. "A tea cup reading should not build such a precise picture. I'm afraid there is something wrong with this cup and I shall discard it."

         "But can't you at least try to offer some suggestions?" Turais asked. "I'm terribly concerned."

         "It is ill-advised and frankly irresponsible if I offer any insight on a potentially faulty cup, Mr Black," Trelawney said firmly. "The last thing I shall do is perpetuate fear when none exists."

         "Serves you right," Gerald muttered as Trelawney left with his cup at hand.

         "Well... did you ever think I was going to let anyone know you predicted that I would fail on an assignment?" Turais covered up with act with a lie. "Of course I had to vanish your predictions."

         Gerald looked at Turais hard for a moment before he slumped. "You're right... I must have interpreted it incorrectly..."

         Turais patted him on the shoulder calmly. "I guess you don't have the gift after all."

         "Oh, sod off," Gerald said irritably. "Stop making fun of that."

         Turais laughed.

         After Divination class, Turais was heading back to the main part of the castle when he saw Lily standing by the dark, narrow corridor near the storage. When she saw Turais, she immediately walked up to him. 

         "Hey, Turais," Lily said.

         "Hi, Lily."

         "So... I heard from Severus that you want Potter and him to apologize to each other."

         Turais totally forgot Severus and Lily were close friends. And close friends talked. "Uh, yes. Yes, I do."

         "Great," Lily said with a mischievous glint in her sparkling eyes. "I'll make it happen."

         "I’m completely on board. What can I do to help?" Turais said immediately.

         "Oh... nothing," Lily answered mysteriously. "Just promise me to never set foot in the Gryffindor common room until I say so."

         "Okay, I promise,” Turais said. “I need to teach that brat a lesson.”

         "Glad we are on the same page. And it goes without saying. This is a secret between the two of us," Lily said with a dramatic flick of her auburn hair. "I have a reputation to uphold."

         Turais grinned when, suddenly, there was a loud crash beside a closed door as they jumped in shock. Seconds later, a dusty Pierricoeur tumbled out, coughing.

         "Stupid boxes -" he muttered just before he spotted the them. He froze for a split second before he composed himself. " - What are you two staring at, huh?! "

         "Not everything is about you, Pierricoeur," Turais snapped.

         "Sound advice for yourself," Pierricoeur retorted as he shoved at Turais while he walked past him. "

         "I thought you are always nice to everyone," Lily commented.

         "Not around him, I'm not," Turais sighed.

         "Don't worry. He was a prat," Lily said consolingly. "You did the right thing and served his stinky attitude right back at him."

         "Like you with James?" Turais arched an eyebrow.

         "He's insufferable," Lily sighed with another dramatic flick of hair. "Everyone thinks he's soo amazing but I am not a single bit impressed -"

         The clock tower struck ten as Turais suddenly realized he was late for class.

         "Shoot! I have to run, bye!" Turais said as he ran off. 

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-05-01

Chapter 36: A Two-Pronged Menace (revised)

Notes:

Hey everyone,

New update. I hope you will enjoy this!

To reiterate, I will be moving towards a biweekly update cycle (once every two weeks) for the rest of summer.

Stay safe!

- ravenclawblues 2020-05-14

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

A TWO-PRONGED MENACE


 

 

- Kaiden Potter -

 

September 1, 1971 (Wednesday)

 

ROYSTON IDLEWIND ELECTED AS INTERNATIONAL DIRECTOR OF ICWQC

by A. Carnierus, Quidditch Correspondent

Is Seeker the Most Endangered Position in Quidditch ?

 

Royston Idlewind, the former Australian Chaser most notably for his winning performance in the 1966 Quidditch World Cup final, has been elected to the highest office of the ICWQC. In his first address, he had outlined his ambition to overhaul the international governing body of Quidditch by hinting at introducing crowd control measures. However, one of his disparaging comments when asked about his opinion on the Seeker position made headlines across the world.

Besides his temper, Idlewind was notorious for his many feuds against all the Seekers he has worked with. A notable example was his refusal to let his fellow teammate and Seeker, Nick Simmons, to hold the Quidditch Cup with him after their final match win, which ran contrary to Quidditch convention. Anonymous sources close to him have often revealed that Idlewind made it his personal goal to win every match without the Snitch catch to highlight the irrelevance of said position. However, Idlewind had never publicly confirmed that particular statement...

 

***

 

         What Lily meant by her "plan" became slightly more apparent and also slightly more muddying later in the month.

         "Hey Severus," Turais said when he found Severus waiting outside his dormitory one day.

         "Lily told me to tell you that the plan is ready," Severus said quickly. "She also told me to tell you that you can go to where she told you to never go next Monday after class. And make sure to not go to where she told you to never go especially if Potter tells you to go."

         "Uh..." Turais said, befuddled, "What did you just say?"

         "Lily told me to -"

         "Okay - stop," Turais said. "Please say it in the simplest terms."

         Severus looked really frustrated for a moment before he beckoned Turais down and whispered into his ear, "Lily said you should head up to the Gryffindor common room next Monday after class. But do not go up there for any reason whatsoever before that time, especially, do not listen to Potter."

         Turais was confused, but he trusted Lily to know what she was doing.

 

***

 

         It was the end of the Slytherin trials after a quick round against the sole challenger for his Seeker position by the reserve Seeker - Emma Blishwick.

         The team was largely intact from last year and there was only a single change in the roster. One of the Chasers and Turais's close friend, Natalia Arkenstone, graduated last year and was replaced by a fifth-year named Samuel Riley.

         "Congratulations on defending your position, Black," Michael announced with a small, private smile.

         "Thank you, cap," Turais said with a grin.

         "I had a feeling my participation was merely to contrast your brilliance," Emma said with a heavy pant.

         "Well... also to legitimize my selection," Turais teased. "It never looks good to win unopposed."

         Emma shoved at Turais playfully as Michael announced the end of the trials. They were vacating the pitch as the incoming Ravenclaw team started to enter the pitch to conduct their own trials.

         "Not the worst team around these parts, Wilkins," the newly-minted Ravenclaw captain and beater, Finn Lorenzo, shouted out. "Bet you can force the nonagenarians into a tie."

         He walked up with a hand up, gesturing for a handshake. Wilkins merely arched a brow and looked at the boy wordlessly.

         "What? No friendly handshake?" Lorenzo barked out a laugh as he looked around him as though he was expecting an audience. He tutted. "Manners, Wilkins."

         In the blink of an eye, Wilkins shot his hand out and grabbed the Ravenclaw's hand and squeezed it tightly. Lorenzo let out a single hiss of pain before he clenched his jaw and returned the favour with equal force.

         "I appreciate a man of few words," Lorenzo gritted out. "I wonder what you would say when we win the Cup this year?'

         "You're entitled to your opinion, but your opinion is wrong," Wilkins said with a low voice. His expression was unflinching.

         "I guess we will find out, won't we?"

         "Don't start something you can't finish."

         "Oh, I will finish. Just with you eating twigs."

         "Make sure your Seeker catches the Snitch properly this time instead of delivering it to someone on a silver platter."

         "Oh, don't worry about that. Martin received the boot the second I received this pin."

         "Then you might just end up avoiding last place this year."

          They continued to stare at each other with their hands connected. Their breaths became labored, their jaws tightly clenched, and their hands trapped in each other's unyielding grip.

         " Boys ," Blishwick said with a shake of her head before she motioned Turais to leave the pitch with her.

         Spotting his ecstatic brother waving at him from the Gryffindor section, Turais parted ways with her and walked over to the Gryffindor section. Sirius pounced on him and gave him a big hug.

         "Congratulations, Turais! You were brilliant!" Sirius said. "I knew you were going to make it!"

         "Likewise. It was so lopsided it wasn't even funny," Kaiden said as he put down his Omnioculars and flashed him a grin from the row in front of them. "I was tempted to throw a Confundus at you just to make it more competitive but I then decided against it."

         "That's right," Sirius huffed. "If you want me to try out for the team next year, you better not try anything on Turais."

         "I am trying something on Turais," Kaiden said airily. "That's why I want you on the team next year. So he will be all distracted by you instead of the Snitch."

         Sirius gasped, "You’re evil!"

         Kaiden shrugged. "It's my final year next year and I will graduate with the Quidditch Cup in my hands."

         His eyes burnt with passion.

         "Even if Michael wants that Cup as much as you do, if not more?" Turais asked.

         The intensity of Kaiden's gaze tapered off in an instant. Then, his cheeks glowed red in anger, or embarrassment (Turais couldn't really tell), before whipping around and getting reacquainted with his notes. Turais turned his attention to James, who was trying to engage in a conversation with Lily sitting two rows behind them.

         "What are you reading, Evans?" James shouted.

         Lily didn't even bat an eyelid at the call and merely turned to the second page of the book. Her friend nudged Lily on the shoulder multiple times to no avail. Finally, she shot James an apologetic look. But James wasn't paying attention anymore and turned away with a dejected frown.

         “What’s up with James and Lily?” Turais asked his brother.

         “Lily has been giving James the cold shoulder since two weeks ago,” Sirius whispered back. 

         “Don’t speak nonsense, Sirius.  She is not giving me the cold shoulder. She is just so taken aback by my popularity that she doesn’t want to look too eager to befriend me. She’s clever like that.”

         “Right... I must have misheard her when she said she doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Sirius said dryly.

         “She doesn’t mean that. Who doesn’t want to be friends with me,” James said dismissively. “We just started off on the wrong foot and I was terribly misunderstood.”

         “I swear Lily said the exact same thing when you claimed she really wanted to be ‘chums’ with you,” Sirius drawled.

         “That just shows how similarly we think, Sirius,” James said excitedly. “Don’t you see?”

         “I don’t know what you see. But my eyes and ears told me that she won’t talk to you until you’ve apologized to Severus -”

         “That’s where you are wrong, Sirius,” James huffed indignantly. “I’m definitely not apologizing to him. Because I will win the -”

         “James!” Kaiden called out warningly.

         “What?!”

         Kaiden pointed at Turais as James’s confusion turned into excitement. 

         "That’s right! Turais," James tugged on Turais’s robe and whispered. "Can you come up to the common room tomorrow? Next Sunday works as well."

         "James! You can't do that!" Kaiden protested.

         "Turais, what do you say?" James asked, ignoring his cousin. "I think I heard a yes."

         "You cheater," Kaiden pointed at James, who was sticking out his tongue tauntingly. "Fine! If you want to play dirty... Turais, come today, or any Saturday of your choice. I'll give you a Galleon -"

         "No, you're not," MacGregor, who was sitting beside Kaiden, chimed in as well. "Fridays are known to be the best visit-your-brother-in-a-different-House days, Black."

         "Uh... are they?" Turais felt like he was missing something.

         "Of course!" MacGregor said. "I also have treacle tarts -"

         "I will find your treacle tarts and destroy them all," James challenged.

         "How about you, Siri? Do you have a preference?"

         Everyone stopped arguing and stared at Sirius intensely, who fidgeted. "I... I... don't have a preference..." He then turned to James and smacked him on the shoulder. "You haven't congratulated Turais yet!"

         "Good job making the team, Turais," James said beside Sirius. "It's not like being a Chaser, but I guess it's something. Back to your visit to the Gryffindor common room -"

         "What do you mean by 'not like being a Chaser'? Being a Seeker is awesome," Sirius egged his friend on deliberately.

         "We had this conversation already, Sirius. I mean... is a Seeker really playing Quidditch?" James asked as he lifted an index finger. "One, Seekers sit around the entire match doing nothing until that one moment of necessity." He raised a second finger. "Two, the object of Seeking is to play the least amount of Quidditch." A third finger. "Three, Seekers play such a different game compared to the rest of the team that they always have their own separate training sessions in the League teams. So back to -"

         "So does this mean you support Royston Idlewind's proposal to eliminate the Seeker position?" Sirius gasped.

         "Of course not!" James scoffed. "I told you already. I don't like the Seeker position, but that doesn't mean I want to change it. That babbling fool is clearly mad! Next thing you know, he's going to suggest teams can remove the Keeper for an extra Chaser!" James shook his head. "We are doomed with that man as Director of ICWQC. It must have been all the Bludger hits he's taken in the head over the years..."

         Just as Turais was about to ask where Remus was, Kaiden turned around and shushed them down.

         "Chaps, let's keep the volume down. I need to concentrate on the Ravenclaw Chaser trials. Also, come up the tower today -"

         The Ravenclaw captain flew up near the stands with his blonde hair flapping in the air.

         "This is the Ravenclaw Quidditch trials," Lorenzo announced loudly with his wand pointed at his throat. "Today will be a relatively short affair as we have only three openings to fill - two Chasers and one Seeker. The Chaser trials begin now."

         As the Chaser trials unfolded, it became increasingly apparent that two particular players, Anna Vidal and George Crawley, would be the two likely selected. Crawley, in particular, was a natural left-hand thrower and a prized commodity.

         "Darn. We'll have to work on forcing him right. Also plan for Beater drills down the left lane," Kaiden murmured into MacGregor's ears, who nodded as he scribbled down notes. "He's not showing any tendency to throw with his right at all."

         "But that might be because he is focusing on passing his trials right now. His actual right-hand capability is still unknown," Turais reasoned.

         Kaiden nodded as he dialed the Omnioculars on replay once more as he focused on Crawley. "Better safe than sorry. Add drills for inverted winger tactics as well."

         "They will definitely try touch line cross-ins from both flanks."

         Kaiden wrinkled his nose in thought. "Then let's run 1-v-2 defensive Chaser drills on stopping crosses particularly from the right."

         "They might centre their attacks with a Porskoff Pass by sneaking him beneath the fray and sending him the Quaffle with a dead drop near the 12-yard line."

         "We will work on forcing him offside... Good ideas today, Ewan."

         "Uh... it's Black, not me," MacGregor said. Kaiden looked away from his Omnioculars and saw Turais's face beside him.

         "Oh! No wonder... I was just wondering what possessed you," Kaiden said. "Instead of waffling, you were actually making sense."

         "Oh, bugger off," MacGregor growled as the stands cheered. Apparently, the Chasers match was finished with Vidal and Crawley being selected.

         "Can you watch for a while?" Kaiden handed MacGregor the Omnioculars. "My arms are sore."

         Just as MacGregor reached for it, Turais noticed a girl with chestnut brown hair and ponytail soaring through the air on a Nimbus 1701. Turais snatched the Omnioculars from Kaiden's grip and placed them on his eyes. "I'll do it."

         "Hey! Kaiden asked me -"

         "Kay, you don't mind, right?" Turais asked as he dialed the magnification and trained it at the four potential Seekers hovering in the air with Lorenzo. Most importantly, there was Catherine clinging onto the captain's every word with a determined glint in her eyes. Turais was immensely grateful that she ultimately decided to try out for the position. 

         "Sure," Kaiden said as he stretched his arms widely, occasionally blocking his view. "You offer better advice than this fool anyway."

         Then, there was the familiar whistle. Disregarding the other male contenders, Turais followed Catherine as she streaked off into the distance after the golden target against one other boy. Apparently, Lorenzo was conducting the Seeker trials as one-on-one elimination competitions.

         "Kaiden!" MacGregor hissed. "He's with the Slytherins."

         "And everything he said before was valid," Kaiden answered with a loud yawn. "Calm down -"

         "Who needs to calm down?" Michael's deep voice said calmly from his left as there was a loud thud followed by a hiss of pain in front of him. Somehow, the Gryffindor captain was out of his seat and sprawled on the floor. "Are you alright, Kaiden?"

         "I'm perfectly fine!" Kaiden said brightly. He was focused sharply at his seat and refused Michael's helping hand. Then, he quickly combed his hair with his fingers and patted down his robes. "What are you doing over here, Carmickey?"

         "I just wanted to retrieve my Seeker who seemed to have lost his way back to the Slytherin section," Michael said as he glared. Turais waved sheepishly.

         "He's helping me at the moment," Kaiden said. "Turais, get back to work."

         Turais returned to see Catherine executing a few elegant spins as she gained speed on her competitor while he tried to ignore the argument.

         "He's my Seeker!"

         "Well, he volunteered to be my strategist for the hour."

         "What? He's my strategist!" There were a few flashes of green and red as Turais saw the girl clamp her hand around the Snitch from right under the other boy's nose. She smiled radiantly while the other boy sulked.

         "Hey - give my notes back! They are team secrets."

         "You steal glances at my Quidditch notes all the time -"

         "No, I don't!"

         Another whistle as the second pair battled it out.

         "Then why do you always look at my direction when we make training plans together?"

         Kaiden's breath hitched. "N...no, no I d...don't!"

         "You are a terrible liar, Kaiden."

         "Just give them back, Michael," Kaiden hissed quietly.

         There was silent tug-of-war occurring right beside him, but Turais forced himself to be fascinated by the two Ravenclaw boys clawing at each other's limbs for a slight advantage. 

          'Great leg pull by the boy on the right. OH! Amazing kick in the face.'

          "What is this? There's a scribbled-over doodle of a heart -"

         He saw a flurry of red robes and black trousers in his Omnioculars. 

         Turais snapped his gaze to the stairs beside him and saw Kaiden's entire body pressed onto Michael's. Michael's hands were outstretched skyward and holding a few pages of notes that were slightly out of Kaiden's reach. The students around them looked on at the two Quidditch captains with amusement.

         "Give it back!" Kaiden roared.

         "Why are you so nervous? Ohhh... does Kaiden finally have a crush?" Michael smirked down at Kaiden, whose frantic expression was mere inches away from the other's teasing one.

         Turais immediately turned back to the Omnioculars.

         'Oh... Reeeeaaally great elbow in the face.' 

         "I hate you for growing three inches taller this summer," Kaiden gritted out as he clawed at the notes again, valiantly but uselessly.

         'And world-class hair pulling. But maybe focus more on the Snitch... ah, there we go! Terrible job - the both of you.'

          The battered couple returned to the captain, one victorious and the other defeated.

         "This is karma for making fun of my height all these years." Michael's voice said.

         "It really is."

         "What do you mean?"

         "I... nothing - come on! Stop reading it!"

         There was a third whistle as the winners of the previous two rounds were now flying head-to-head behind the golden ball. The two players shot off as they circled the perimeter of the pitch at great speed. However Catherine had a clear advantage over the other boy. Inch by inch, the girl closed in on the snitch while the boy fell back further and further.

         "There's a 'CW' inside the heart," Michael commented.

         Turais looked up at once and felt his heart drop to his stomach in fear. He saw a similar reaction in Kaiden as he froze and looked as if his worst nightmare came true. Michael scrunched up his nose as he scrutinized Kaiden carefully. Kaiden looked back at Michael helplessly like a sad, kicked Crup at the verge of tears.

         Suddenly, Michael shoved the notes back at Kaiden's chest and sighed, "Here are your precious notes. Catherine Westermont is everyone's Quidditch crush. And there I was thinking it was some earth-shattering secret..."

         "What?" Kaiden asked in confusion before realizing the situation. "Yeah..." he said breathlessly as his fingers tightened around the papers and caused them to crumple. "...Sorry to disappoint... I... I actually need to use the loo....” Kaiden fumbled onto his feet unsteadily. “I’ll be right back...”

         Kaiden fled the scene as Turais released a breath he didn't know he was holding. As he turned back to the Omnioculars, he saw Gwenyth Orpington darting across the stands after Kaiden and wondered whether he should run after him as well. But then, there was a loud, collective sound of disapproval coming from the stands. Turais looked into his Omnioculars to see Catherine’s fingers nearly touching the golden ball. But suddenly, she jolted backwards. Apparently, the other boy grabbed the twigs of her broom and was dragging her backwards while advancing himself.

         "THAT'S A FOUL!" Turais stood up and shouted angrily. He was joined by several other people voicing the same concern. But there was no whistle indicating a pause.

         Catherine faltered slightly as the other boy claimed a narrow lead in the pursuit. However, Turais could see the fierce determination in her expression as she rejoined the fray and steadily made up the distance. The other boy seemingly swiped at the Snitch and hit Catherine's face instead. She narrowly ducked under the swing but her hair band came loose in the process. A simmering curtain of hair expanded and fluttered in the strong winds behind her, glistening warmly in the golden morning sun.

         However, Turais knew better than to see that as an honest mistake. The Snitch was still wildly out of reach for the boy. He was deliberately sabotaging his opponent.

         "THAT SCUMBAG BETTER PRAY THAT I DON'T SEE HIM!"

         The girl continued to chase after the elusive Snitch as she regained the lead. The boy, on the other hand, now resorted to a similar tactic with his previous opponent and rammed his side into hers repeatedly. Turais could see Catherine's superior concentration as she clenched her jaw and took the hits without wavering the slightest. The boy swung out to slam against her again as she suddenly pulled up. Without a target to absorb the force, he twirled out of control and crashed into a nearby tower. Then, he plummeted towards the ground.

         Just as Turais thought the boy would surely hit the ground, a figure swooped in above him and caught the hood of his robe. The boy dangled like a rag doll as his downward motion stopped. Then, he was let down gently onto the pitch ground as the other person kicked off in pursuit of the snitch once more.

        The final whistle that indicated the end of the trial was sounded, which left a contested result without an outright win. Now, Lorenzo would likely be determining the winner of this match.

         "BOLLOCKS!" Turais huffed as he took his Omnioculars off. He took out his wand and jabbed it on the side of his throat, slightly painfully due to his angered haste. " Complete bollocks, Lorenzo! You should have blown the whistle ten fouls before. What were you even thinking?! Trying to murder your best shot at the Cup?! Or are you in cahoots with that spherical pillock lying pathetically on the pitch?! "

         "It's none of your business, Black!" Lorenzo shouted back.

         "It is my business. Because if you don't want me to kick both your arse and his off your brooms during our match, don't choose him as Seeker! Cup and detention be damned!"

         Lorenzo made Turais a rude gesture as he flew off to meet his two Seekers on the pitch ground.

         "Looks like someone needs to calm down more than I -" Turais glared at MacGregor as he shut up immediately.

         "Uh... are you feeling alright?" Michael, who was now sitting beside him, asked. He sounded slightly taken aback. 

         "Fantastic, " Turais snapped as he sat down in a huff. As his anger abated, he started to realize he was getting a lot of stares. Michael and Sirius were ogling him as if he was an extraterrestrial being while James looked at him admiringly. "Cut the stares."

         "Sorry," Michael said. "You just... don't get riled up easily."

         "It was just... that boy was playing so unfairly that -"

         Lorenzo reappeared in front of them as he addressed the stands once again. "After careful consideration -"

         "Better consider some more if you're going to choose that manky maggot!" Turais shouted. "I still have the playback recording in this Omnioculars."

         Lorenzo's eyes widened before he shot him a loathing glare.

         "After careful consideration, I have determined the new Seeker for the Ravenclaw team to be... Catherine Shafiq."

         Turais and Lorenzo connected gazes for one final time before the captain flew off.

 

***

 

          Turais was jolted from his thought when Michael clasped his hand around his shoulder.

         “Turais, have you seen Kaiden?”

         “Who?” Turais asked.

         “Kaiden,” Michael repeated. “He said he went to the loo but I couldn’t find him there - anywhere, in fact.”

         “Oh...” Turais said distractedly. His thoughts were still lingering on the Ravenclaw Seeker trial. “I haven’t a clue. Sorry.”

         Michael nodded worriedly as he dashed ahead towards the castle with his broom at hand.

         "What got you so unsettled?" Sirius asked.

         "I... I just realized that it might've looked like I was pressuring Lorenzo to choose one player over the other."

         "But you were right," Sirius said. "We all saw how Burton was committing all those fouls -"

         "Black!" someone called behind him. "Black! Turais!"

         Turais turned around to find Catherine running up to him. Her hair was flowing free down her back and shoulders, he noted absently.

         "Oh... hi..."

         "Hey," Catherine said. "Uh... so, about the trial -"

         "I'm so terribly sorry for putting you on the spot," Turais apologized quickly. "I promise I was not trying to help you win by pressuring Lorenzo. You would have caught the Snitch ten times over if he didn’t do all those despicable acts. You deserved the win."

         "Oh... I didn't think you acted improperly at all," she said. "In fact, I wanted to thank you for speaking up. I was quite fed up by all the missed foul calls as well."

         "It was nice of you to save him," Turais said. "It was his own fault, quite frankly. And you would have had a legitimate win over him if you just went for the Snitch. Instead, you had to settle for this contested result with me running unnecessary interference..."

         "Don't think that," Catherine placed a hand on Turais's shoulder and the warmth almost caused him to shudder. Her eyes were so, so clear and so, so blue. "I'm glad you spoke up." She glanced around and whispered into his ear, "I overheard Burton and Lorenzo arguing in the changing room. Apparently, Burton promised to buy Lorenzo a new broom if he helped him win the Seeker position -"

         "What?!" Turais gasped. "You must tell Mather!"

         "There's nothing except for my anecdotal evidence. And he ultimately didn't get the position," Catherine sighed. "But I'm guessing that if you didn't speak up about the Omnioculars playback, Lorenzo would have tried to force his way. I'm just glad you were watching me at the time."

         Turais flushed at the thought that his actions were falsely recognized as a happy coincidence.

         "I'm just happy you're not mad at me."

         "Of course I'm not mad at you," Catherine chuckled. "But you might be when I beat you come February."

         "Oh, bring it on," Turais said with a challenging stare which was returned with equal measure. Turais felt his heart doing a funny lurch, but he decidedly ignored it.

 

***

 

         "BLACK!" 

         Turais almost fell off his chair when he realized that Yvette Tripe, a sixth-year, was looming over him.

         "What is the matter?" Turais asked.

         "One of your brother's lanky Gryffindor sidekicks was trying to follow me back to the Slytherin common room," Tripe said. "Luckily I thwarted his plan, but he said he was looking for you."

         "Thank you for notifying me," Turais said as he snapped his textbook shut and ran out.

         "Napier is currently with him by the Grindylow picture!" she called out after him.

         "Evelyn," Turais said a bit breathlessly from the quick jog. The Slytherin prefect and the bespectacled first-year were both standing below a large canvas depicting multiple Grindylows sliding in between the swaying kelp stalks amidst an ocean of blue. "Thank you so much for watching over James for me." At the sight of him, James thrummed excited.

         "Anytime, Turais," Evelyn flashed a grin. He turned back to James and said warningly, "No more tailing any Slytherins back to the common room. Not all Prefects are like me who would let you off with a verbal warning. Next time, House points will be deducted."

         Once Evelyn headed off, Turais pulled James into a nearby classroom.

         "What are you doing here? Did something bad happen? Are you in trouble?" Turais asked urgently.

         "No..." James said as he played with his sleeves. "I'm here because Sirius... he... he is lying in bed."

         "What happened?" Turais asked as he clutched James tightly.

         "I... I don't know..." James said as something shifted in his eyes. "We were eating lunch and... and he felt ill. I think you should go see him."

         "Why is he not in the Hospital Wing?!" Turais asked as he led James out of the room and headed towards the Gryffindor tower in a hurry.

         There was a sudden hiss as Turais looked at the Grindylow portrait only to find it void of any creatures... except for an enormous scale body that was extended beyond the width of the picture wriggling by, seemingly without end. 

         "Uh... we didn't think it was too bad..." James said as Turais snapped his attention back to the boy who was scratching his neck.

         "And somehow telling me would do the trick?" Turais exclaimed incredulously. "I'm not a Healer, James."

         "You know... they say emotional support is important..."

         "That is not more important than immediate Healing intervention, James. We are heading straight to the Hospital Wing after retrieving Sirius," Turais grumbled as they climbed up the Grand Staircase up to the Fat Lady portrait. "I can't claim to understand your thought process!"

         "Ah, young Slytherin, I guess there is no point to conceal the fact that I guard the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, but you will never charm your way past my defens-"

         "Capricorn," James said.

         "My, my. Patience is a virt -"

         "Capricorn," James repeated nervously.

         " - What do you take me for? A doorkeeper? -"

         "Sorry to break it to you, lady," James said. "But you are exactly that. Just do your job and open up. Capricorn!"

          "Your manners are absolutely horrid, " the Fat Lady admonished as her portrait swung open. " Please learn from Mr Slytherin here - wait a moment..."

         Out of the portrait hole revealed an extremely agitated Lily and a sleep-wrinkled Sirius.

         "I honestly don't understand why you just go along with everything Potter says like his words are gospels -" Lily looked up and saw a smirking James with a largely confused Turais. " - TURAIS! Why are you here?"

         "Sirius!" Turais clutched his brother tightly and examined him closely. "Are you feeling alright?"

         "I'm fine," Sirius said, confused. "What is happening?"

         "Cough up, Evans!" James said, his hand waving in a beckoning fashion.

         Lily spluttered for a moment before composing herself and slapping James's hand away. "No, Potter. We said  'Gryffindor common room.' This is not the common room. Turais needs to pass through the portrait hole for it to count."

         "Fine," James said as he walked behind Turais and pushed him forward. "Turais, be nice and take one teeny step -"

         Lily physically blocked the portrait hole by gripping either edge with her outstretched arms and legs and tried to communicate with him through her expression. She gritted out, "Turais, remember?

         Turais stopped himself quickly, twirled around, and walked away.

         "Turais!" James shouted frustrated. "Come on!"

         "Are you sure you're not ill in any way, Siri?" Turais asked as he evaded James's capture.

         "Yes," Sirius nodded.

         "Okay, I'll be back tomorrow!" Turais shouted as he fled down the stairs.

         "Don't be back tomorrow! Or any Monday!" James screamed.

 

***

 

         "Ah, you're the nice Slytherin boy," the Fat Lady said as he approached. "I'm thankful that you did not go into the common room yesterday. You have preserved my perfect record of not letting anyone without a password set foot."

         "You're welcome," Turais said. "I will continue to preserve your record. Please swing open. Capricorn."

         "What?"

         "I gave you the password, milady. Capricorn."

         "I don't know how you came across the password but you are clearly not a Gryffindor so I shall not let you enter - why must someone exit right now..."

         Lily was standing at the entrance of the portrait hole as it was revealed. When she saw Turais, she shouted ecstatically, "Turais, you're here! Quick, come into the common room!"

         "Please tell me you have good news," Turais muttered. "I'm in desperate need of good news especially after a full day of classes with sodding Pierricoeur."

         "Stop muttering to yourself and standing there like a loon. Do you want James to apologize to Severus or not?!" Lily took Turais's hand and pulled him through the portrait hole. 

         "Okay, okay. I'm coming in," Turais grumbled.

         "Yes, you are," Lily said.

         Suddenly, he felt as though he was transported through time back to the first time he set foot in the Gryffindor common room. Turais captured the familiar red and gold tapestries hanging around the circular room full of squashy armchairs and writing tables. The fireplace flickered warmly in the centre as students of various years lounged lazily in the warm light of the setting sun. Some of the members looked at Turais confusedly for a few moments before their eyes widened and nudged their friends.

         Lily shouted out to the entire common room, "Everyone! Today is Monday and Turais Black showed up in the Gryffindor common room."

         The doors on the second floor opened up as students of various ages clamoured to see the sight for themselves. Most students groaned while a selected few cheered. Turais was at a loss as to what was happening.

         "What day is it?" one of the older students shouted.

         "Monday!" another person shouted out as he pulled out a long scroll. "Whoever bet on Monday won!"

         "Darn it, I bet on Sunday!" a girl near him whined. "Why didn't you show up yesterday?!"

         "I'm sorry?" Turais said with uncertainty.

         "Don't be, because I'm not," Lily grinned as she whispered into Turais's ears while the rest of the House was in an uproar. "I originally meant for this to be a private bet with James, but some sixth-year overheard and made it into something much bigger."

         "Oh... I see," Turais said weakly. He didn't know there was a House-wide betting pool on his appearance in the Gryffindor common room. But honestly, he shouldn't have expected any less from them. "Congratulations... I guess."

         "I was not in it for the Galleons," Lily said dismissively. "I'm just happy of the fact that Potter must apologize to Severus for all the terrible things he said."

         "But how is this a fool-proof plan?" Turais asked questioningly.

         "If there is one thing Potter cannot stand, it would be someone questioning his ability," Lily sighed happily. "I just had to rile him up a little and dare him into betting against me."

         "What were you two betting on?"

         "If I won, he would have to apologize to Severus under my supervision. If he won, I would have to stop the silent treatment and call him by his first name," Lily said airily. "I was actually expecting him to come up with something worse, Potter was somehow really fixated on the idea of being on first-name basis with all the first-years - except for Slytherins, that is."

         "And let me guess. You are the only hold-out who refused?"

         "Yup," Lily sighed with content. "I don't understand what he wants from me, but I gave up trying to understand him."

         Then, she saw a familiar face and waved her over. "Marlene, come and wait here for Potter to realize what happened. Let's watch that smug grin he has wiped off his face. Hopefully, this will knock him down a peg or two."

         "I don't understand why you are so adamant to dislike James, Lily," Marlene said. "I find him quite funny and charming."

         "Don't make it sound like I'm the unreasonable one here," Lily huffed. "I don't dislike Potter. There is just nothing to like."

         " Hmmm ..." Marlene sounded unconvinced.

         "What is happening?" James's voice shouted before Turais saw the boy make his way to the front of the crowd. James looked up at Turais and his mouth hung open. "Wait? Why are you here, Turais?!" Suddenly, James groaned as he fell into an armchair. "I bet two Galleons for you to show up on a Sunday!"

         Lily crossed her arms, walked over to James, and kicked him hard on the right leg. James yelped as Lily continued to stare unsympathetically.

         "You lost your bet against me, Potter," Lily said as she aimed at James's leg again. This time, James pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them defensively. "That means you owe Severus an apology for what you said on the train and during Sorting."

         James groaned. "You must have cheated! This wasn't fair!"

         "You were the one who lied about Sirius being sick to get Turais up here," Lily returned. "That was a horrible thing to do and you know it."

         "I... I..." James's eyes darted towards Turais guiltily. "I didn't mean to!"

         "That's your biggest problem, Potter. You never mean to hurt anyone but, in fact, you do! First, Severus. Then, Turais -"

         "Okay, okay!" James interrupted. "You just want me to apologize to greaseball. There's no need to drag everyone into this."

         "But Potter, this is not just about Severus, it is about you being mean -"

         "I said I will apologize to greaseball. What else do you want from me?" James said angrily.

         "You still don't get it, do you?" Lily huffed.

         "There's nothing to 'get'."

         "You are hopeless, Potter," Lily shook her head. "Meet me at the Entrance Hall during lunch tomorrow and you will apologize to Severus."

         "What if I don't?"

         "Then... then I will never, ever talk to you again. Also, if you try anything remotely shifty, I’ll never talk to you either," Lily said firmly. "Marlene, let's go."

         Marlene looked back as she was dragged away. "James, please excuse her -"

         "Marlene!"

         The portrait hole opened behind him as Turais saw Remus climbing through. When he noticed Turais's presence, his books fell out of his arms in a clatter as he turned around and fled.

         Turais couldn't help but be worried at Remus's horrified expression.

         "What happened between you and Remus?" Turais asked James, who was still brooding.

         "What about him?"

         "It just seems I haven't seen him in quite a while. Did you notice something strange -"

         "NO!" James said immediately. "No. There is nothing out of the ordinary. We are getting along great!" He gave Turais a suspiciously bright smile.

         "If I find you lying. I will place you under a Tracking Spell," Turais threatened.

         "Tracking...?" James frowned for a moment before he grinned mischievously. "I need to... do something..."

         James immediately darted back towards his dormitory.

         The next day, Turais arrived at the location where James was due to meet Severus under Lily's supervision. Spying from behind a column, Turais watched intently at the improbable scene. 

         "What is it, Turais?" Alex hissed as Turais patted him frantically on the shoulder.

         "Are my eyes deceiving me or are James and Severus actually apologizing to each other?"

         In the middle of the Entrance Hall, the three first-years were engaged in a civil conversation and no fists or wands were drawn. Severus just tipped his head down once muttering something and reciprocated.

         "It looks like they are apologizing to each other."

         "Is this actually happening?" Turais asked as he looked on with wonder. James was nodding at something Lily said. Then, he handed over a tiny box to Severus, who received it carefully.

         "Uh, yes?" Alex said confusedly. "Why do you look like something earth-shattering has occurred?"

         "Because that is exactly what's happening," Turais said reverently as the trio of first-years entered the Great Hall. Distractedly, Turais added, "I will be sitting with Sirius for breakfast today..."

         "Sure," Alex said easily. Once Turais travelled to the Gryffindor table, he noticed that Sirius was sitting all by himself while James was standing next to Lily, who looked mildly annoyed at the persistent distraction.

         Turais sat down next to his brother as they both eavesdropped on James and Lily's conversation.

         "What are you reading, Evans?"

         "You've asked me that question for the one hundredth time this month, Potter," Lily said with her eyes still glued to her book.

         James looked surprised that Lily answered. But that lasted for exactly one second before his expression turned smug, "I knew you cared about me." 

         "You know it was an expression, right? I didn't actually count the number of times you asked the question."

         "If you say so."

         "I did say so."

         "You haven't answered my question yet. What are you reading?"

         "Why do you keep asking me this question?"

         "Because you still haven't answered me."

         Lily sighed, "It's something called a book, Potter. Heard of it before?"

         "Fiction or non-fiction?"

         "Those are generally the two main types, yes."

         "So are you reading non-fiction? "

         "I've answered your first question. Now go bug someone else," Lily said with finality.

         "He looks really happy considering he was just forced to apologize to Severus just a few minutes ago," Turais whispered to Sirius quietly.

         "Those are the most words Lily has spoken to him since the beginning of term."

         "But she isn't exactly... friendly."

         Sirius shrugged. "He has lowered his expectations substantially. I bet he would go mad if she just smiled at him."

         "I don't understand how this relationship works," Turais said.

         "Me neither. James, for some reason, really wants Lily to like him."

         "I don't think she's impressed with what she sees though," Turais said as Lily thumped James on the head with her book. James merely rubbed his head and smirked cheekily. Lily stood up in a huff and walked off.

         "That didn't go well," Sirius muttered under his breath as James returned with a smile on his face.

         "That went extremely well," James declared brightly as he plopped back beside Sirius. "We had a twenty-line dialogue. I knew I'd get through to her."

         "Congratulations, mate... what an achievement..." Sirius drawled.

         "It is," James said dreamily as he took a sip of pumpkin juice from Sirius's cup. "I knew she cared about me."

         "And you don't?" Turais asked.

         "Well... just a smidgen," James said he refilled the cup. "In order to be the most popular first-year, one does need to be popular with everyone within his own House. That's all."

         "And why do you want to be the most popular student?" Turais asked.

         "Would you rather be unpopular?" James questioned.

         "No, but -"

         "Exactly. People just happened to like me, who am I to deny them of my popularity?" James asked. Then, he smirked at Turais, "Unless... do you feel threatened, by any chance?"

         "Not at all," Turais said as he valiantly suppressed an eyeroll.

         James hummed meaningfully while Sirius gave Turais a mischievous look and tilted his head at James. With a sing-song voice, Sirius asked, "James, did you say it was twenty or twenty-one lines of dialogue?"

         "Well... let's count... first, I asked her what she was reading - so that's line one - then..."

         Sirius and Turais exchanged knowing glances and a secretive smile while James recited the entire conversation perfectly.

         It was twenty lines.

 

***

 

         "The pudding was a-maz-ing!" Jonty declared as they were walking back to the common room after dinner later that day.

         "I wouldn't know because you finished my portion as well," Alex sniped.

         "Aw... don't be such a downer," Jonty said as he swung his arm around Alex.

         "Stop making me your armrest whenever you get food-coma," Alex said as he tried to shove the boy off of him. But the boy clung on tightly as Alex gave up.

         Turais laughed as he suddenly spotted a floating elbow beside one of the silver armours when they were a turn away from the entrance.

         "Oh, I just remembered that I forgot my textbook in the study room," Turais said as the elbow disappeared.

         "We can get it tomorrow," Jonty said. "The common room is right up ahead and I want to go to bed."

         "You two go ahead," Turais said. "I will just double-back. It will be quick."

         "Are you sure you don't want us to come along?" Alex asked.

         "I'm fine," Turais said.

         Alex looked unhappy but he nodded reluctantly. Once the two boys disappeared around the corner, Turais pretended to turn around and walk back while he seized the air beside him. He felt his hand caressing some fabric and he tugged it off, revealing a shocked James.

         "Good evening, Turais," James said brightly as Turais crossed his arms. 

         "What are you doing here, James?"

         "Taking a night stroll?" James offered.

         "Under a Cloak of Invisibility and near the Slytherin common room?" Turais frowned.

         James puffed up his chest at the mention and said confidently, "That's right! I figured out where your common room is and it's still September. Ha!"

         "Do you know the password though?"

         "No, but I will find out," James said proudly as he snatched back the Cloak of Invisibility. "The best part is that the dim-wit greaseball didn't even know he told the location of his house."

         "What do you mean -" Something suddenly clicked in Turais's mind as he narrowed his eyes. " - Don't tell me - James... what was in that box you gave him?!"

         James cowered at Turais's tone, "It was a tie-clip!"

         "And?"

         "And nothing!"

         "James!" Turais roared.

         "Uhm... there might have been additional features -"

         "What additional features?" Turais asked dangerously.

         "Uh... possibly an audio Monitoring Spell and maybe a Tracking Spell as well. But they stopped working a few turns back. I had to trail after some other Slytherin to reach here..." 

         Turais closed his eyes and breathed in several times. The idea that James would sincerely apologize to Severus was, of course, too appealing to be true. Why was he so naïve to think that it could happen? And, of course, James would take the opportunity to discover where the Slytherin common room was. What was he expecting?

         But Turais couldn't help but be impressed that James had managed to charm an object with those spells. And at the same time, he knew he couldn't condone the boy's behaviour. 

         He felt torn.

         "James, I want you to apologize to Severus," Turais said.

         Silence.

         "James?" Turais opened his eyes and realized that he was facing a stationary suit of armour. Turais whipped his head around and found himself alone in the hallway intersection.

         "JAMES! COME BACK HERE, YOU BRAT! DON'T LET ME GET MY HANDS ON YOU OR YOU'LL GET IT!" 

         The fuming Turais returned to the common room when Severus intercepted him and brought him into a hidden alcove.

         "I just wanted to say thank you, Turais," the first-year said.

         "For what?"

         "For... everything you've done... saving my mother's letter from the bullies... getting Potter to apologize to me... allowing Lily to continue being friends with me..."

         "Hold on," Turais said. "I can claim a bit of credit for the first two things you mentioned. But I didn't do anything for the third item."

         Severus shifted uncomfortably. "Well... you never told me I couldn't be friends with her."

         "Why would I do that?"

         "Because she is a mud- Muggleborn? And a Gryffindor?"

         Turais burst out in laughter. "Oh... I really don't care about those things. My best friend is a half-blood and I am good friends with Jane Stahl, the third-year Gryffindor who happens to be a Muggleborn."

         Severus closed his eyes and breathed in deeply once before he started, "Well... Malfoy told exactly everything opposite of that. Do you remember asking me what he called us into a meeting for on the first night of school? He told me he saw my 'potential' after my outburst against Potter in front of the school. He said my mother was hoodwinked by my Muggle father ... and was defiled... and that the only way to avenge her was to make those unrepentant Muggles and the Muggle-loving purebloods pay for their crimes." Turais listened quietly as Severus continued, "He also told me that Potter was the best example of a pretentious, arrogant Light family pureblood that represents the ultimate threat to our society. He also told me to stop being friends with Lily... because she was unworthy of my friendship."

         "So what do you think," Turais asked softly. "Do you believe in what he is saying?"

         "I... I don't know," Severus whispered. "I know that I love my mother and I hate my father. I used to think I hate Potter. But I never agreed with him about Lily. She's too... she's..." Severus left the sentence unfinished.

         "So you agree with Malfoy on the first point -" Severus nodded, " - but you are unsure about the second point -" Severus nodded, " - and you disagree with the third point." Severus shook his head fervently. "And you are confused if you should listen to Malfoy?" Severus nodded.

         "Potter... isn't all bad..." Severus said hesitantly as he lifted his tie out to show a gold tie-clip. "He was actually quite nice to me when he apologized... Lily insisted I should wear it as a show of good-will."

         Turais felt panic stirring within him as he dreaded the thought of Severus finding out James's true intention of the gift.

         "That's a beautiful tie-clip," Turais asked with a controlled tone. "Can I take a closer look?"

         Severus took it off and handed it to Turais. Inside his palm, Turais scanned the object for any latent Monitoring or Tracking Charms, but they were all permanently disarmed upon passing the wards on the Slytherin common room for the first time. Relieved, Turais handed the tie-clip back.

         "That's really nice of him," Turais lied. "So you don't think James is what Malfoy made him out to be?"

         "I know I made some mistakes just as he did..." Severus said. "But he is definitely not evil and I don't think I hate him anymore." 

         "That's great," Turais said with a strained voice. "So do you know what I think? I think that your father might be a very mean Muggle to you. But not all Muggles are mean. Have you met Lily's parents?" Severus nodded. "Are they nice to you?" Severus thought for a moment before nodding again.

         "But her sister is mean."

         "Petunia? Yeah, she is mean," Turais said with a heavy sigh. "So two good Muggles and two bad Muggles. I'd say that means not all Muggles are bad . Do you agree?" Severus nodded. "Well, then you disagree with Malfoy on two items and are unsure about one item."

         "So I should not listen to Malfoy then," Severus concluded.

         "It would make a lot of sense that you think that," Turais said carefully. "So what will you do?"

         "I... I will not listen to Malfoy then," Severus said.

         "And does this solve your problem?"

         "Yes..." Severus said. "Thank you, Turais."

         "Any time," Turais smiled.

         Severus was heading towards the door when he turned around and walked back towards him. He looked Turais directly in the eyes for the first time as he fidgeted his arms, as if he was deciding to initiate a hug, handshake, or nothing at all. Ultimately, he did not act and averted his gaze to the floor once more. Then, he mumbled something Turais couldn't catch.

         "What did you say, Severus?"

         "Can you sign my copy of The Most Important Potions Discovery Across the Ages? "

         Turais laughed.

         "Of course."

         On the surface, he was glad that Severus’s opinion on James had shifted slightly. But internally, he winced at the ticking time bomb that was most likely to come back and haunt him in the future.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-05-14

Chapter 37: The Lone Wolf (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I have deliberately slowed down the plot progression in the last few chapters to focus more on exploring the dynamics between Turais and the new first-years. I think it is important to establish these early on so you meet my version of their characters and how their relationship deviate (or not) from the original timeline. But don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the plot!

- ravenclawblues 2020-05-29

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Appendix II - The Composition of the Wizengamot

 

   

- Composition of the Wizengamot by functionality and ideology -

 

The composition of the Wizengamot is officially defined by the functionality of the seat and its selection process. There are three main categories of seats: 1) Functional Constituencies, 2) Geographical Constituencies, and 3) Hereditary Constituencies.

Of the 77 seats in the Wizengamot, four (4) are functional constituencies that are tied to the offices of Minister for Magic, Under-Secretary, Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Head of Hogwarts. Twelve (12) are geographical constituencies that are elected from and by the general Wizarding electorate.

The remaining sixty-one (61) seats are hereditary family seats that are passed down the generations within the family. As family seats can only be represented by the patriarchs of that family, the death of a Lord and the lack of an extant male line would result in la permanent loss of that family seat. Due to a rule change adopted by the Wizengamot in 1804, this family seat will then transition into a new geographical constituency seat.

However, the general Wizarding population is more acquainted with the Wizengamot divided based on ideological fault lines, which is partially due to the narrative being favoured by the newspaper and other media outlets. Traditionally, the Wizengamot members cast their votes based on each bill and their individual merits. However, blood purity has become an increasingly influential matter that predominated over virtually all Wizengamot affairs in recent decades. From mundane affairs such as Portkey travel safety measures to contentious subjects such as increasing the Aurors force's prosecution powers or dismantling blood wards, all matters would inevitably turn into a debate over prejudice and blood purity. This effectively split the members into different factions based on their ideological similarities.

The Light alliance - a term associated with families who historically lived alongside muggles - is more welcoming and supportive of muggleborn integration and eliminating systemic inequalities. Their views frequently align with those of the Ministry, which is elected by the general electorate. Thus, they are natural allies in the Wizengamot. Conversely, the Grey alliance and Dark alliance are warier of those changes, especially as most families are well-established in the community and deeply entrenched with various business ventures. While the Dark alliance outright rejects any changes to the status quo, the Grey alliance is less extremist and more pragmatic towards those issues. However, both alliances took significant issue with the Ministry's strong-arming of bills through the Wizengamot with their slim majority, forcing them into an uneasy coalition that fell apart due to the poisoning of the Black heir.

Finally, there are the unaffiliated "swing votes" composed mainly of the elected representatives and Lord Fleamont Potter. Lord Potter is widely considered a "maverick" because the Potters are historically aligned with the Light families. However, he has also not hesitated on bucking his traditional allies on key issues, such as the UTWATS bill.

 

***

 


CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

THE LONE WOLF


 

         After arriving at Slughorn's office, Slughorn announced that they were accessing the Floo to reach the Ministry. On the other end of the Floo network, Turais appeared in the Floo concourse. Beside the Floo gate where Turais appeared was the elderly Mr Flack with several Ministry guards, which Turais suspected was present because of him. The area was relatively quiet today as it was not a workday, however, there were still plenty of people striding to and fro purposefully as they went to their destinations. Above him, clusters of purple memos soared through the air.

         "I hope you both have finished reading the assigned text as you will be required to understand all the procedural rules by heart," Mr Flack said. "This is particularly important for the two of you as you will one day take up the mantle of your respective Lords and engage directly with Wizengamot affairs.

         "So you have successfully completed your orientation. And in just a few minutes, you will be attending your first session," Mr Flack announced as they started to make their way to the lifts. "Do you know what the importance of this session, Mr Black?"

         "The Wizengamot was in recess throughout summer and today is the first day that the Wizengamot is reconvening. What is important this year is that the position of Chief Warlock is contested. Despite being contested every three years, this position only faces a token vote if the incumbent seeks a re-election. Therefore, the eventual winner will have great influence in shaping the politics of the Wizengamot for years to come.

         "The outgoing Chief Warlock is Lord Fawley while the Deputy Chief is Lord Travers," Turais continued. "The main task for this first meeting is the nomination of all interested members intending to run for the position as well as securing nominations from their peers.

         "Very good, Mr Black," Mr Flack said as they slowly approached the smaller chamber that was numbered three. "The Chief Warlock decides which bills will be moved for a vote and is the most powerful position. As you have mentioned, the incumbent generally faces a token vote if they seek re-election. However, given the polarizing political environment, we cannot rule out any other possibilities."

          When they reached the end of the hall, Mr Flack halted them outside the door as he whispered, "The meeting has already started. Please keep silent."

         Mr Flack tapped his wand on the door handle. The door swung open and they entered into the large, spacious chamber. Turais realized they were directly beneath the Chief Warlock's seat, which was squarely in the centre of the chamber. Currently, Lord Hector Fawley was occupying the seat.

         The black, marble column stood majestically around the chamber with the gentle flickering flames from the torches casting imposing shadows across the chamber floors. The far side of the chamber was empty, but on the near side, there were elegant, crimson seats lined on the three tiers of the balcony where almost every Lord and member were occupying their rightful seats. Above their heads were two magnificent, crystal chandeliers that hung from the arched ceiling above, casting a warm glow over the chamber.

         Around him, Parliamentarian clerks were busily sorting various documents as paper flew around and sorted themselves into different folders. A Self-Write quill was writing with eye-blurring movement across a roll of seemingly never-ending parchment and recording every single word uttered in the chamber.

         To his left were the Dark and Grey families. Malfoy and his allies occupied the farthest half of the left wing while Arcturus occupied the section closer to the middle. Both Lords were seated in the front row surrounded by their closest allies and advisers. To his right was the Light families. Lord Fawley sat in the centre of the front row among a sea of aging and greying men. Turais turned to find Fleamont sitting at the fringes of the right wing and directly next to the Chief Warlock chair. Fleamont caught his gaze and gave him a playful wink.

         "... nomination period ends today," Lord Fawley's voice announced loud and clear. "To reiterate the rules, only members of Wizengamot occupying family seats nominate their peers for the position of Chief Warlock and Deputy Chief. However, members of Wizengamot occupying both family seats and elected, open seats are allowed to run for the positions. The Minister of Magic, Under-Secretary, Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Head of Hogwarts are not allowed to partake in this committee's election. Finally, each nominee must secure the nomination of two of their peers and each member may only nominate one member in the election. The nominated member must accept the nomination for it to be valid. The member who gains the most votes, or a plurality, will win this election. Yes, Lord Shacklebolt."

         The Lord stood up from the right side of the chamber and said, "I nominate you, Lord Hector Fawley, for re-election as the Chief Warlock."

         Another Lord beside him stood up and said loudly, "I second the nomination."

         The entire right section cheered rancorously as the left of the chamber remained extremely quiet. Arcturus, who was sitting in the front row on the left, was listening intently as the Lord beside him muttered into his ears.

         "Thank you, thank you," Lord Fawley said happily as the cheering faded. "I will gladly accept the nomination. Any others?"

         After Arcturus nodded, the man immediately stood up and said, "I nominate Lord Selwyn as the Chief this session." Another Lord from the same slice of the chamber stood up and seconded the nomination as well.

         Abraxas Malfoy fielded his own candidate - himself - in a clear split with the Black alliance. A fourth nominee came in the form of Tiberius McLaggen after two members nominated him as well.

         "Shall I remind all Lords and members that Honourable Junior Under-Secretary McLaggen is only representing Under-Secretary Quagmore's office. He is not allowed to partake in this election," Lord Fawley said.

         "Lord Fawley," McLaggen said with a smile as he pulled out a letter and handed it over to the Chief, "I am officially the proxy of my uncle's family seat of McLaggen. Therefore, I have secured the rights to be nominated."

         Lord Fawley inspected the parchment and handed it off to one of the Parliamentarian clerks. One of the ladies performed some Authentication Spell on the parchment and nodded at the older man. "The parliamentarians confirmed that the proxy order by the current Lord McLaggen is valid. Therefore, Mr McLaggen has gained full representation in the Wizengamot chamber as the proxy of his Lord."

         "Thank you," McLaggen said with a smile.

         "Are there any more nominations - yes, Lord Potter."

         Fleamont, stood up and gestured at a relatively young man, possibly in his early thirties, beside him. The man had his nose buried in his notes. He adjusted his spectacles and peered down at the parchment in his hands as a Self-Write Quill moved across the page. 

         "I believe the chamber should recognize its shortcomings. Since we had the first elected member of Wizengamot in 1805, we have never nominated a duly elected representative of the public to this powerful position. Given the political and social turmoil, I believe this is the perfect time to support one of our fellow twelve members who actually represent the less privileged of our society and provide them with a more influential role in our stagnant politics. Therefore, it is my privilege to nominate the Honourable gentleman Mr Harold Minchum representing the open seat of West Country," Fleamont said.

          'Harold Minchum? The Harold Minchum?' Turais's mind spun as he looked up at the man he met at the Slug Club almost two years ago. Eyeing the man's relatively young age and unpolished fashion, Turais now realized that he was looking at the future Minister for Magic and successor of Eugenia Jenkins. 

         "What?" At the call of his name, Minchum stood up hastily as the scrolls on his lap fell onto the floor. Flustered, the man gathered all the scrolls and placed them onto his seat before he started. "What, yes?"

         "I just said I will nominate you, Mr Minchum," Fleamont repeated. The man looked shocked. "I think you will be an excellent choice."

         "Is there anyone who wishes to second the nomination?" Lord Fawley asked as he eyed around the chamber. "Anyone?" Still, there were no hands. "Unfortunately, it seems -"

         "I second his nomination," McLaggen said as he stood up. Minchum's jaw dropped as the entire chamber was equally shocked by the turn of events. Even Lord Fawley couldn't hide his surprise with a mystified look.

         "Tiber- I mean - Mr McLaggen," Lord Fawley hissed, but his voice was still magically amplified around the chamber, " - you are nominated to become Chief Warlock. Why are you nominating another -"

         "Is this disallowed under the standing procedures?" McLaggen asked.

         "Well - no -"

         "Then I shall nominate him," McLaggen said. "The more, the merrier. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Fawley?"

         "I - well..." Lord Fawley cleared his throat as he started again. "Do you accept the nomination, Mr Minchum?"

         "Of course!" Minchum said quickly.

         "Well then... If there are no more nominations, I will motion for the closing of the nomination period."

         The entire chamber murmured their consent.

         "Well then, we have finalized our five candidates: Lord Fawley - myself - Lord Malfoy, Honourable Mr McLaggen, Honourable Mr Minchum, and Lord Selwyn. As I am partaking in this election, I shall formally recuse myself from the election process and allow my Deputy Chief, Lord Travers, to assume my duties for the duration of the election. Lord Travers, please."

         Lord Fawley stepped down from the chair as Lord Travers ascended.

         "I will set the date of the election to be on October 11th," Lord Travers announced. "If there are no further business, this meeting is adjourned."

         The entire chamber muttered their consent as they rose from their chairs and started to leave.

         Mr Flack, Turais, and Lucius Malfoy also exited the Visitors' Gallery as they re-emerged in the slowly-crowding hallways.

         "This election seems to be more highly contested compared to the previous years'," Mr Flack commented. "I'm sure you -"

         "Doctoring the minds of our youth, aren't you, Mr Flack?" Arcturus's voice sounded. The trio turned around to see Turais's grandfather walking down the red-carpeted hallway towards them.

         "Lord Black," Mr Flack said as he tipped his head slightly in acknowledgment of the Lord, "Your words suggest their minds are diseased, which I'm sure was not your intentions." 

         "I did not suggest that,” Arcturus said sternly. “You have faulty comprehension.”

         "Perhaps, but I would argue that your speeches are incomprehensible."

         "I'm sure you do," Arcturus's voice dripped with sarcasm, which Mr Flack ignored.

         "As you can see, Lord Black, I am currently leading a tour for your grandson and Mr Malfoy to observe the Wizengamot meeting."

         "And I came here to see my grandson."

         "Lord Black," Malfoy muttered.

         "Master Malfoy," Arcturus responded coolly.

         "I will continue on the tour with Mr Malfoy then -"

         "Arcturus," a man Turais immediately recognized as Abraxas Malfoy said as he strode up towards them. He ignored Turais and glanced towards the elderly gentleman, "Mr Flack, I will take over this little orientation of yours. I'm sure the caucus meeting will be much more exciting than... the records room?"

         Mr Flack gave off an amused chuckle. "Considering that you are such an infrequent visitor, I would like to extend an invitation to you both to join us. I'm sure it will be quite the novel experience."

         Abraxas scoffed, "Your power does not extend beyond the chamber. Your job is finished, so leave us."

         Mr Flack bowed respectfully at the two Lords, "As you wish, Lord Malfoy. Good day to you all."

         Once the man walked off into the distance, Abraxas turned to face Arcturus.

         "I would like to talk to you about the nomination from the Dark families."

         "I have nominated my candidate, Abraxas," Arcturus said curtly. "You nominated yours."

         "You are splintering our votes. If we ally together on this vote, we will have your 14 votes and my 23 votes. This is 37 out of 73 available votes, which is a clear majority. If we don't ally together, Fawley would win with the backing of the Light families and the reluctant support of the elected representatives."

         "I'm not worried by the slightest," Arcturus said. "Our time as allies have passed. When there is another time when our goals align once again, we shall talk again."

         "Indeed," Abraxas gritted out. "How I wonder what you would sound like right now if your precious Heir succumbed to the poison."

         "When did you start dabbling with the mysticism of hypotheticals, Abraxas?" Arcturus said.

         "A dose of reality then," Abraxas glanced down at Turais with a sneer, acknowledging his presence for the first time. "A Gryffindor Heir would make you so much prouder, Arcturus. Much better than this kitten here posing as a snake."

         "Which shows the intelligence of certain snakes might be overstated," Turais responded with a smile as the younger Malfoy's grip on his cane tightened.

         "You -!"  Abraxas shushed his son before he could blurted out any enraged syllables.

         "What do I always tell you, Lucius? We should always show our respect for our opponents, no matter how worthy or unworthy they are."

         "Yes, father," Malfoy smirked as they turned around and left.

         "Are you no longer cooperating with Malfoy?" Turais asked as they observed the Malfoys walking away.

         "No," Arcturus said. "But he must now cooperate with us. The composition of the Wizengamot majority has changed and his alliance is not part of it. That's why he is fielding himself as the candidate. He knows he cannot lose this election, or else, his power will fall into oblivion."

         "And how are we in the majority without their votes?" Turais asked in confusion. "The Light alliance still has the other half of all votes."

         "You still have much to learn about politics, Turais. Not everything is what it seems. You will understand everything in due time. Furthermore, there are many political enemies who would like to cause harm to our family and diminish our political power. You must stay vigilant while you are travelling between the Ministry and Hogwarts, seeing that you are considerably less risk-averse than I prefer.”

         "I understand, grandfather. I have another request. I would like your help on drafting a bill that will eventually provide subsidy to the Wolfsbane Potion once it's approved -"

         "Turais, stop being so fixated on your passion project," Arcturus said. "No one wants to re-open the conversation on werewolf legislation, let alone spend gold to support a program that benefits werewolves only. Focus on something else."

         "But grandfather, this is a social justice issue. The werewolves are being so unfairly treated. They are desperately in need of our aid. We should not continue to alienate them and treat them as second-class citizens!"

         Arcturus looked behind him and dragged Turais into a nearby deserted hallway, "I agree that they are being treated unfairly. But the world isn't fair . If you were not born magical, you would be living in the Muggle world. If you were born a girl and not a boy, you would not stand to inherit anything. If you or Malfoy were not the Heirs of powerful pureblood families, you would not be in this chamber while you are still in school. You are the Black heir, and with it comes a lot of privileges and responsibilities. You must conduct yourself befitting that of your station and not be a 'social justice' fighter," Arcturus said. 

         "But grandfather, I should be using my privileges to address the injustice in society!"

         "That's not your role," Arcturus responded. "You should be advocating for a return to a more structured society where social roles are adhered to and not overstepped. You should be fighting against the Light families' push for more and more concession from the Dark families to give up their identity and their heritage in their blind crusade for the elusive and unattainable utopia of equality. You should be -"

         "But that's not who I am!"

         "No, it's clearly not. But that's what you ought to be," Arcturus said sternly. "You cannot be so reckless in the Wizengamot as you have been in Hogwarts. Every word you say here has ramifications far beyond your imagination."

         "But that is precisely why we should use this valuable platform to push for the betterment of society," Turais argued. "Imagine all the good we could do for the world if we just said something."

         "Good? What good? Good for who?" Arcturus retorted. "You expend political capital for everything you do here, Turais. And unless you gain back an equal or more amount of capital for your actions, you are not doing any good for your family. Advocating for werewolves will only diminish your standing."

         "But you were never against me for researching into the Wolfsbane Potion."

         "There is a great difference between your research and your advocacy. Your research into the Wolfsbane Potion gives you influence, fame, and power. However, your advocacy will bring you what exactly? Appreciation? Gratitude? Goodwill? Or a friendly pat on the shoulder? What do those things do for you, or for the family?"

         "We can't put a value on all things!" Turais gasped.

         "Yes, we can. And we must," Arcturus replied simply. "Now, you shall never speak of your fascination of werewolves in front of me again."

         Arcturus led Turais down the busy hallway to the other end. However, they were halted in their journey by Fleamont.

         "Hello, Turais. It is always exciting to see new members joining our midst," Fleamont said kindly.

         "It is nice to see you too, Fleamont," Turais said with a genuine, pleased smile. Fleamont responded in kind before he turned his attention to Arcturus.

         "Arcturus," Fleamont said. "Judging by the results of today, I can recognize that you are planning something."

         "How perceptive," Arcturus drawled.

         "Now, now. Don't be short with me, Arcturus. I merely here to voice my concern that you will be caught in another trap before you can trigger one of your own."

         "I'm touched by your concern, Fleamont. But I dare say I know Abraxas better than you do."

         "Indeed," Fleamont said, "Regardless, I'm here to say that I'm glad to see you moving away from Abraxas. But I merely worry that his obstruction would only worsen from this point forth."

         "I am aware of all the obstructive tools at Malfoy's disposal. I can wait him out," Arcturus said. "In fact, you are creating an obstruction of your own. Why did you nominate Harold Minchum?"

         "You heard my speech, Arcturus. I just believe it is long due for an elected representative to take on a larger role in shaping legislation that affect their lives in so many ways. I just never expected it to be seconded, and by McLaggen, no less."

         "Is this your contribution to social justice? " Arcturus said coolly as he turned his gaze onto Turais. Turais held his gaze and tried not to flinch or cower.

         "Why yes it is! You surprise me, Arcturus. We all should be using our privileges to address the injustice in society," Fleamont said cheerfully. "You should try that sometime. Not everything is about personal gains."

         Arcturus narrowed his eyes at Turais momentarily before saying, "I'm afraid this delightful conversation must be cut short, Fleamont. If you would excuse us."

         With a powerful grip, Arcturus forcefully walked Turais to the Floo and sent him back to Hogwarts.

 

***

 

         "Are you reading the papers again?" James asked Lily as Turais walked over to the Gryffindor table the next day.

         "Well..." Lily set The Daily Prophet down beside her glass of juice and folded it neatly. She then pointed at the date and spoke in a clipped tone, "You see this, Potter? It's the date. It is different every day. And as it happens, so is the news." Her gaze flitted up to the incoming Slytherin and said brightly, "Good morning, Turais!"

         "Good morning, Lily," Turais smiled as he sat down on the bench across from them. "Would you excuse us for a moment? I have something urgent I would like to talk to them in private."

         "Of course," Lily said quickly. "I am just about finished anyway. I need to meet up with Severus," She shot James a glare as if daring him to voice his objection. "Goodbye, Sirius, Turais."

         "Bye, Evans!" James shouted out as Lily walked off, but the girl didn't respond. James looked crestfallen as he grumbled, "She never says goodbye to me..."

         At the same time, Turais noticed that young Peter Pettigrew was sitting just a couple feet away from them and staring at his plate strangely. Ignoring him for now, Turais returned his gaze back on James, "I'm still not finished being mad at you, young man. You better not try anything on Severus if you don't want me to snitch on you to Lily about the tie-clip incident."

         James froze mid-slurp before he choked on his drink. He wiped his mouth hastily as Sirius asked curiously, "What tie-clip? And what does it have to do with Severus?"

         "Nothing!" James said immediately.

         "I have done you a favour by not revealing your foul intentions to both Severus and Lily. So do I get a promise or not?" Turais asked.

         James hesitated. "Unless he does something to me first -"

         Turais motioned to stand. "I will chase after Lily right now -"

         "Fine, already!" James shouted as he reached over the table and grabbed onto Turais's forearm. "I promise!"

         Satisfied, Turais sat back down.

         "Wait a minute... you, Lily, Severus, tie-clip..." Sirius's eyes widened. "Does this have anything to do with you finding out -" Sirius pressed down his voice, "- about you finding out the Slytherin common room location?"

         "Maybe?" James squeaked.

         "That's not right!" Sirius shouted. James immediately slapped his hand over Sirius's mouth as he eyed Severus walking into the Hall.

         "I sodding apologized to the git -"

         "You pretended to apologize," Turais pointed out.

         "Same thing to him," James said dismissively.

         "I will argue with you later," Turais said firmly. "But I have something more urgent to ask. What is happening between you two and Remus?"

         Feeling a constant stare, Turais turned to look down the table and saw Peter's beady eyes hastily turning back to his breakfast.

         "Don't mind Pete," James said. "He might seem like a creep but he’s just shy and means no harm."

         "Okay, but back to you and Remus, what happened exactly?"

         Sirius and James shared a secretive look as they engaged in a wordless conversation that Turais didn't understand... well, he knew that they were hiding something... that's clear. But what information were they hiding exactly, Turais needed to find out.

         "Finished talking telepathically and ready to share?" Turais asked impatiently.

         "Well... well -" Sirius's eyes darted between the warning glares of James and Turais before he ultimately blurted out, "- Remus has not been sleeping in his bed since at least last week."

         James groaned, "Sirius! Why can't you lie to your brother for once. Just once!

         "You can trust him, James," Sirius said encouragingly. "Turais keeps all my secrets!"

         "I swear on my magic that -"

         "I know, I know..." James waved Turais's oath down. "I just don't want to talk behind his back to other people outside our house... he's our friend."

         "But Turais is the most brilliant person on this planet," Sirius argued. "He can definitely help us, James!"

         Turais felt something warm and tingly inside his heart when he heard the words from his brother's mouth.

         "Is he more brilliant than Dumbledore?" James asked skeptically.

         Sirius hesitated for a brief moment before steeling his resolve and nodded affirmatively. Turais thought his heart was about to burst in happiness.

         "Okay, fine!" James said. He then turned to Turais and looked questioningly, "Uh, Turais... why are you looking at Sirius like that?"

         Turais realized he must have looked dopey, so he quickly cleared his throat and adjusted his posture. "No...Nothing! I was just gathering wool because you were taking so long."

         "Yeah... whatever," James rolled his eyes. He nudged Sirius and said, "Do you want to tell your brother what happened?"

         Sirius nodded as he delved into his story.

         "So... I woke up in the middle of the night to use the loo one night last week... and I realized that Remus's bed was empty. I was worried that he sneaked out of the common room again but it turns out that he was sleeping on the couches of the common room. Before dawn broke, Remus returned to his bed and pretended to wake up with the rest of us.

         "So, James and I thought he suffered from sleepwalking, so we read up on the counter-spell. The next night, we pretended to fall asleep and saw Remus sneak out of bed to sleep in the common room again. James cast the spell on him and nothing happened, " Sirius continued. "We think Remus is deliberately sleeping on the couches at night."

         "Also," James continued, "Remus has not been sitting with us in class or talking to us since the first weekend. I mean... there must be something off with his mind to willing partner up with greaseball! "

         "Uh..." Sirius said. "He's pretty good at Potions, James. I don't blame Remus -" James shot a warning glare at Sirius and he fell silent.

         "I don't know why he is avoiding us..." James said.

         "Do you think we should tell Professor McGonagall?" Sirius asked.

         "NO!" James exclaimed. "We just talked about this. No getting Remus into trouble!"

         "Not wanting to get someone into trouble is not a good reason for not telling the Professor about problems," Turais warned. "We are not telling her this time because we are confident that we have a good handle on the situation."

         "Well... I am always confident," James said proudly. Turais sighed.

         "Okay... let me think..." Turais said, "Remus might be a bit overwhelmed by the attention coming from the two of you right now. Why don't you keep an eye on him but give him some space. Let him open up to you when he feels more comfortable. Meanwhile, I will try to talk to him to see if there is something off."

         "Why would he feel uncomfortable around us?" James asked.

         "Well... not everyone is outgoing like you, James," Turais said cautiously. "Some people take more time to warm up to others and your shining personality might be scaring him a little."

         James scoffed. "That makes absolutely no sense."

         "Why don't you let me try and approach him first?" Turais asked. "I think he trusts me."

         "Fine, we can try your way," James said.

         "I told you Turais can help," Sirius said proudly. James looked as if he clearly did not share the same amount of confidence as his friend.

 

***

 

         After his last class, Turais decided to wait at the base of the staircase leading to the Hospital Wing to offer some support to Remus.

         Soon after, a pale and sickly Remus walked slowly towards his position.

         "Remus," Turais said as the boy froze like a startled prey.

         "Remus, please stop avoiding us," Turais said as he slowly inched towards the boy. "We want to help you with whatever is bothering you."

         "W...what do you want from me?" Remus whispered. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. "I have already steered clear from all of you. WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!"

         "Remus," Turais said exasperatedly. He couldn't tell Remus he knew he was a werewolf because that would just exacerbate the situation. "You don't need to avoid us. In fact, I want you to bother us about your... troubles."

         "A...about m...my troub...bles?" Remus asked shakily, his eyes shifting nervously sideways.

         "Yes, anything," Turais said. "We are all worried sick. If there is anything that is bothering you, no matter how big or small -"

         "There's... there's n...nothing," Remus said as he turned to walk up the stairs, then he caught his foot on a step and sprawled. Turais immediately ran up to help him up, but Remus pulled away as soon as Turais touched him as if Turais's hands scalded him. "I'm okay, you s...should leave."

         "Remus..." Turais said as Remus scrambled onto his feet and ran the remainder of the way to the Hospital Wing.

 

***

 

         Turais was currently engaged in an intense, and frustrating, hand-signaling conversation with Sirius across the Great Hall. He could see that James looked on bemusedly. 

         "Why don't you walk over there and talk to him directly instead of conducting this undignified flaying of limbs?" Jonty asked as he munched noisily on the chicken drumsticks.

         "Why don't you stop this undignified table etiquette of eating and talking at the same time?" Turais retorted.

         "Hey, I am a growing boy and I need all the food in order to grow taller and bigger," Jonty said as he patted on his stomach, clearly offended. But then he continued to chomp on the lasagna in front of him. "Oh... here he comes, finally."

         Sirius clearly gave up and decided to walk over to Turais and talk face-to-face instead. His eyes darted up and down the table cautiously, but when he realized that no one was about to jump out and leer at him, he quickly walked up to Turais.

         "Hey Turais, do you happen to know anything about healing wounds?" Sirius whispered. "I noticed that Remus has a gash on his back."

         'So Remus was back on speaking terms with Sirius and James then,' Turais thought happily.

         "Oh... was that why you were doing the broken arm motion?" Jonty snorted beside him unhelpfully.

         "I have a more potent Dittany with a slightly different composition that he might find useful."

         Sirius nodded quickly. "Thank you, Turais. Can I meet you at the Great Hall during dinner?"

         "I'll just give it to you in half an hour," Turais said. "Meet you at the portrait hole?"

         Sirius nodded before he headed back to the Gryffindor table.

         "So... when were you planning to tell us that you know where the Gryffindor common room is located?" Jonty said sarcastically.

         "I don't know what you mean?" Turais said. "There's a tower that is literally called 'Gryffindor Tower'."

         "Haha, very funny, Turais." Jonty dropped a drumstick and wiped his hand on a napkin before he poked a finger at Turais's chest. "Speak."

         "Brothers' Code," Turais cited as he motioned the sealing of his lips.

         "Urgh," Jonty said as he turned back to his food. Then he suddenly shivered violently, " I think I'm allergic to something... that’s right, your disgustingly soppy behaviours.”

 

***

 

         Turais rummaged his trunk and found the vial that was labelled Dittany Decoction. He popped out the cork and took a whiff of powdered silver, dittany, ginger, and aconite. Confirming that it was the brew specifically for werewolf wounds that Turais requested from Damocles in preparation for Remus, Turais quickly made his way to the Gryffindor common room.

         But before he reached the landing, he saw Sirius and James staying around the corner.

         "The Fat Lady is throwing a bit of a tantrum," Sirius said. "We best not provoke her with the sight of you."

         Turais nodded and he pulled out the vial. He handed it to Sirius and said, "Tell Remus to use this sparingly - at most twice a day - and only externally. Once he applies it to his wounds, he should start to feel a soothing sensation within seconds. Understood?"

         Sirius nodded as he took the vial carefully and tugged it safely into his robes.

         "What's that you have there?" James asked, peeking curiously.

         "Just some Dittany for Remus," Turais said.

         "Honestly, I think he needs something more than that," James quipped. "That boy looked ghastly pale, as though he was mauled by some foul creature..." Suddenly, his mouth dropped as his eyes sparkled. He slapped Sirius on the arm and said animatedly, "...You don't reckon he snuck into the Forbidden Forest by himself last night... and last month as well, the sly bastard. The old folks were right when they said be wary of the quiet ones..."

         Sirius blinked at James owlishly as Turais responded warily, "I hardly think that's the case, James. Remember that you can be expelled for entering the forest without supervision. Besides, there are a lot of dangerous creatures in the forest. I'm sure Remus has more sense than that to venture into it at all."

         James hummed in consideration. "No matter. I will coax the secret out of him one day or another. I happen to be quite persuasive."

         Turais grimaced. "Well, don’t try to coax anything out of your bedridden fellows as a general rule. Also, when are going to apologize to Severus -"

         "Bye!" James interrupted as he dragged Sirius after him forcefully.

         "Bye, Turais," Sirius said, waving enthusiastically as they went out of sight.

 

***

 

         "Hey, Turais," Sirius whispered after he walked over to the Slytherin table. However, he realized where he was and scanned his surroundings nervously. However, no one even batted an eyelash at the presence of the Gryffindor now, and if anyone were to have an opinion on this, they made sure to at least keep it out of Turais's earshot.

         Sirius walked up to his brother and asked, "Um... can I borrow Turais for a moment?"

         "Of course," Turais said as he stood up.

         "Make sure you return him in one piece," Jonty called after them as they walked out of the Great Hall and found a more private location.

         "The Dittany worked wonderfully. Remus's gash healed up very nicely," Sirius said.

         "That's great," Turais smiled. "So did Remus like the Dittany? It should not sting like the other kinds."

         "Uh... I'm not sure..."

         "What do you mean, Sirius?" Turais asked, confused.

         "I knew he would kick up a fuss if I gave him the Dittany when he was awake, so James and I secretly applied it while he was still asleep..."

         "Sirius!" Turais scolded. "You should never give anyone potions when they are not consenting!"

         Sirius winced at the tone. "Well... I know now for next time. Sorry, Turais. But I'm not sorry for doing it because his wound healed nicely when we checked this morning. But then he was all weird about it..."

         "Explain what you mean by weird."

         "I showed him the Dittany you gave me. He took a sniff of it and looked completely spooked... then he yelled at me to mind my own business before drawing the curtains in my face."

         So Remus still felt uncomfortable with his friends noticing his wounds. That was to be expected, Turais supposed, especially when he was used to hiding his condition from everyone. But Turais had not anticipated that reaction at all, perhaps something more serious was happening to Remus...

         "I would strongly suggest that you give him some personal space for now," Turais said.

         "I don't think James understands the concept of personal space though," Sirius said.

         "Try to rein him in for me, won't you?" Turais said.

         "I'll try..." Sirius gave a helpless shrug. "But you know how James is, he's quite protective once he decides someone deserves his attention. And I think he decided that Remus is one of them."

 

***

 

         "Madam Pince, I was wondering if you have the most recent books on Ministry subsidies and werewolf legislation?" Turais asked the school librarian the next day. If Arcturus was not going to help him, then he would have to do it himself.

         Furthermore, it was a pretense to venture to the library to see whether Remus was holing up among the stacks.

         "What is the purpose?"

         "I wish to look up precedents on Ministry funding for essential Potions."

         "That's a very specific query, Mr Black. I'm afraid the school library's collection will not be as impressive as its counterpart in the Wizengamot," she said.

         "Since Wizengamot session has not officially started, I cannot visit their records room. Whatever you have will suffice for now," Turais said.

         Madam Pince nodded understandingly. "Please wait here for a moment, Mr Black."

         While Turais waited, he noticed a familiar figure walking past him. It was Remus.

         "These are all the books we have on Ministry subsidies and werewolf legislation," Madam Pince said as she placed three books on the desk. "Please return them within three weeks. If you want to consult more material, I would highly recommend that you find some way to access the Wizengamot's records room."

         "Thank you so much," Turais said. Once the process was completed, he walked towards where the elusive Remus headed moments ago.

         "Hey, Remus," Turais whispered as he sat across from the solitary figure.

         The boy looked up at Turais in shock.

         "Remus," Turais whispered as he pulled out the chair beside the boy and sat down.

         The boy dropped his quill with a clatter.

         "T...Turais," Remus gasped. He then turned around to survey his surroundings as though he was in search of an escape. Unfortunately, it seemed like Turais was blocking his only escape. Stutteringly, Remus asked, "W...Why are y...you here?"

         "To find you, of course," Turais whispered back.

         "Me? Why me?" Remus sounded extremely frightened.

         "Let's speak elsewhere. I do not want to provoke Madame Pince's ire," Turais said. Remus gulped but he followed suit.

         They found an equally secluded area that overlooked the Black Lake. While Turais sat, he noticed that Remus remained standing.

         "D..did you t...tell the Headmast...ter?" Remus asked with a scared expression, his voice and body were trembling violently.

         "What?" Turais was mystified by the question. "I didn't speak to the Headmaster yet this year."

         “How did you find out about my... condition?”

         Startled, Turais looked up Remus in surprise and found himself at a loss of words. "What do you mean?"

         "Why did you lie to Sirius and James that I was visiting my sick mother?” Remus said haltingly. He rummaged his robes, pulled out Turais's vial, and laid the container down on the floor between them with his shaky hands. “Was this vial a test?”

         As Turais stood there in shock, Remus continued, "T...This vial does not only contain dittany and other common Healing ingredients, b...but there is also p...powdered silver and ac...conite. Aconite mixed with dittany is normally a toxic combination, except for... certain conditions. I only discovered it after Sirius applied it... Were you suspicious of me?”

         Turais realized this was a severe oversight on his part. Of course Remus would be familiar with the potion ingredients that were closely related to his condition.

         However, when he looked up, he was taken aback by Remus's devastated expression. Tears started to well up in Remus's eyes, then they flowed freely down his cheeks. Turais laid a hand on Remus and the boy lurched away from his grasp violently. The boy then fell on his knees as he assumed a kneeling position and started to plead.

         "I'm sorry for hiding my condition, Turais. I know I'm dangerous..." Remus said frantically. "I tried to push your brother and James away, I swear... But he and James are relentless - no, it's not their fault. I just didn't try hard enough to push them away, it's all my fault."

         Turais was bewildered and he froze in his spot. Remus's eyes grew wild as reached out and grabbed Turais's sleeve desperately. Then he realized what he did and let go immediately, as if he was horrified with what he just did. "I'm so sorry, Turais. I can get sorted into a different house - no - I don't even need to be in any house -  I can sleep in the corridors - I can even sleep outside the castle - I will steer clear of you and Sirius -"

         Turais grabbed Remus's flailing limbs firmly and stilled the hysterical boy.

         "Remus, please listen to me -"

         Remus continued to speak feverishly, "Just please don't get me expelled - I beg of you, Turais - I will do anything you say - anything -"

         "REMUS!" Turais used his strong, authoritative voice as the boy whimpered. His beseeching eyes continued to stare at Turais.

         "Remus," Turais started again, his tone was gentle. "I'm not going to tell the Headmaster. You are not going to get expelled. Do you hear me?"

         "I - yes - what?"  Remus said, shocked.

         "Remus, I don't care about your condition. You need to understand that your condition is no reason for you to isolate yourself from Sirius or James, right? You are not dangerous twenty-nine out of the thirty days. You know that once the potion becomes readily available, the number twenty-nine will become the number thirty," Turais said softly. "There is no reason why you should disallow yourself from making friends, Remus, or find your dream job, or -"

         Turais stopped as he watched Remus's face crumpled once again. This time, when Turais guided the boy into his side, he did not resist. In his embrace, Remus cried cathartically while clutching onto Turais's arm tightly.

         "I'm so sorry for acting like this, Turais. I don't know why I thought you were going to get me expelled..." Remus hiccuped as Turais handed him a handkerchief. Remus dabbed his eyes with it as he spoke, "T...Thank you, Turais. Thank you. Thank you..."

         They sat in silence for a long while as Remus calmed himself down.

         "You are the first person to ever treat me like a normal person...  I love my ma and pa for raising me, but they were always afraid for me, my future... it gets sad and tiring, Turais," Remus sniffed. "They always told me that life was going to be difficult and different. But you... you are the only person who ever told me that I can lead a normal life..."

         "Of course you can," Turais smiled kindly. Tears were starting to sting the back of his eyes as well. "There is no reason not to."

         "Is it really that simple?"

         "It won't be easy... but it is definitely easier if you have friends to support you," Turais said.

         "So you are okay with me becoming friends with Sirius?" Remus asked timidly.

         "Of course!" Turais said. "That's why I introduced you to him on the train."

         "Oh... and do you think I should tell them about my condition?"

         "Only if you're ready,” Turais said softly. "There's no rush."

         Remus nodded as he held onto Turais's arm tighter.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-05-29

Chapter 38: Echoes of Future Past (revised)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Appendix III - A Brief History of Elected Representation in the Wizengamot

 

 

- Geographical Constituencies of the Elected Seats of the Wizengamot -

 

Voting for the local representatives to the Wizengamot during the regular Ministerial elections has become a rather mundane, or even uninteresting, experience for most of the Wizarding electorate. Therefore, it is hard to imagine that merely a century and a half ago, the introduction of elected representatives was a bold, revolutionary idea that stemmed out of necessity. To understand the significance of this change, one must look back to a time before the creation of the Ministry and the Wizengamot itself.

It was the 11th century when Wizarding families lived in isolated pockets of communities that dotted across England. This was a time before the invention of the Floo Powder and when the magic of Apparition had yet to be discovered. Therefore, communication and contact between communities were limited and far and few in between. However, everything changed during the Norman Conquest when muggle England was undergoing major upheavals with armies sweeping the lands and laying sieges on towns and villages. This proved to be too great a problem for any isolated pocket of Wizarding communities to handle by themselves. After great difficulties, messengers and representatives from every Wizarding community gathered together in one location to discuss the solutions on how to weather the crisis.

This marked the turning point in history as the Wizarding populace realized there was safety in numbers, especially given that the muggles far outnumbered the Wizarding population. Hence, the Wizards' Council was formed to share information in times of need. Over the next two centuries, its function as an assembly solely for crisis management slowly evolved into a deliberative body with regularly scheduled meetings where communities could voice their concerns on day-to-day businesses.

Membership during the time was fluid in both composition and number. Anyone available and willing to travel the great distances was welcomed to a seat at the table. However, with the invention of the Floo and the discovery of Apparition, these meetings became more accessible as more and more people wished to raise personal matters at the meetings. The rapid population increase during the 16th century also exacerbated the issue as meetings became unruly and dysfunctional. Finally, in 1590, the Wizard's Council codified the number of members to two hundred and apportioned them to every village across the British Isles. Then, each village sent its representatives to the meeting to speak on behalf of the village.

By the twilight era of the Wizard's Council in the late 17th century, it was common for each village to assign a certain family as their representative. For example, the Potters showed up at the meetings representing Godric's Hallow for two continuous centuries. As a result, the Council became a gathering of familiar faces with an increasingly stagnant membership of families involved.

With the dissolution of the Wizard's Council and the formation of the Ministry of Magic following the ratification of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, the former members of the Wizard's Council were naturally inducted into the newly-formed Wizengamot without raising much concern from the populace. However, by the time people realized that the seats created were hereditary and unable to be transferred to other families, it was already too late. In addition, the families selected to sit in the Wizengamot saw little reason to change the rules and remove their privilege.

Over the course of time, some families with a seat in the Wizengamot went extinct in the male line. As a result, the membership in the chamber started to decrease. Despite calls to reform the Wizengamot and induct new members, most members in the Wizengamot resisted the changes and guarded their political power jealously as each elimination of a family seat meant an increase in political power for the remaining families.

This fact spurred certain families to commit unspeakable crimes with fanatical thoughts of establishing a Wizarding monarchy that could rule over Wizarding Britain much like their muggle counterparts. Nine families, known as the "Notorious Nine," banded together to eliminate all the other families with seats in the Wizengamot, which culminated in the War of Inheritance of 1799. In this turbulent era, assassinations were rampant as Lords and heirs were callously murdered in broad daylight. In five years, the membership in the Wizengamot plummeted by half with only seventy-three Lords remaining.

Lord Canopus Black and Lord Hardwin Potter came together on behalf of the Dark and Light families in light of the violence. Together, they led their coalitions to defeat the Notorious Nine and to banish them to Azkaban for life. Then, they agreed to strip those families of their seats and turn them into elected seats, which could be voted for and elected by the general populace. Furthermore, in order to ensure that this terrible atrocity would never happen again, they agreed that any family seats that were vacated in the future would transition into open, elected seats. Notably, individuals that were already represented through family seats were not allowed to vote in the Ministerial elections. As a result, the power of the Wizengamot would gradually return to the populace and also deter anyone from trying to gain power through murdering their fellow Lords.

Since then, the Wizengamot had enjoyed an era of peace that saw three additional family seats transition into elected seats.

As of 1972, the Wizengamot has twelve elected representatives, each representing a different geographical constituency of Wizarding Britain and an equal number of electorates. One of which is the elected seat of West Country, which encompasses Godric's Hallow and Wiltshire, and is currently represented by the Honourable Mr Harold Minchum. The most populous region is the Scottish Highlands (where Hogwarts and the all-Wizarding Hogsmeade are located) with Sussex and Kent in a close second (where the predominately Wizarding village of Ottery St Catchpole is located). Unlike the muggle, few wizarding families reside in London despite the Ministry of Magic located there as they prefer to keep their distance from muggles. However, the Black family is a notable exception as they would rather endure the presence of the Muggles and live apart from potential prying Wizarding neighbours.

 

***

 


CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ECHOES OF FUTURE PAST


 

         A week passed since the last meeting as Turais filed into the historical space with his grandfather, Lord Steward, and Lord Selwyn.

         "Xavier, my man!" Lord Ogden, a jolly man who resembled a real-life father Christmas with his impressive beard and rounded belly, strolled over to Jonty's father and clasped that man's shoulder excitedly. "Good day to you both, Arcturus, Carlisle," he greeted the two men before turning back to Lord Steward, "I have excellent news!"

         "Your latest small-batch brews are ready for sampling?"

         "What else could it be?" Ogden laughed. "This is definitely a gold label batch, if I can say so myself. Saturday evening at my Manor. The regular dozen of us plus young Mr Tiberius. Here’s the invitation." The man handed out three invitations to the Lords.

         "Won't dream of missing the event of the year. Anything you would like me to bring?"

         "You know Hector always insists on bringing his signature charcuterie and cheese board," the men looked at Lord Fawley and Fleamont conversing in the distance, "And Fleamont has his fish brine -"

         "Urgh, that dish is truly horrible," Steward grimaced. "Does this acquired taste come with old age?"

         Ogden barked out a laugh. "Might I remind you that you are talking to man with the most sought-after invitation -"

         "I do apologize," Steward grinned. "I will offer my private stock of pâté and foie gras as a peace offering."

         "And an order of at least ten crates," the man added.

         "I'll buy everything that you are willing to part with," Steward promised as Ogden laughed again.

         Soon enough, they entered the chamber as the meeting started.

         "Before the election of the Chief Warlock, I would like to ask whether there are any motions to be considered?" Lord Travers said as pointed at a raised hand in Malfoy's section. "Yes, Lord Flint."

         Groans erupted around the chamber as the elderly man stood up shakily. He must be Flint's grandfather.

         "I... thank... the Chief Warlock... for..." Lord Flint droned on emotionlessly as Turais strained to hear his words. It was remarkably that even with the Sonorous charm his voice remained so quiet. When he was finally finished, it was an hour later and half the chamber was put to sleep.

         "Any other motion? Yes, Lord Avery."

         The second Lord talked with a much quicker pace but no more comprehensibly. After two minutes, Turais totally lost track of what he was talking about.

         "Yes, Lord Fawley."

         "Lord Travers, why are you not starting the election proceedings?"

         "The standing procedure states that all members with motions must be allowed to speak," Lord Travers argued.

         "But none of their speeches are of substance," Lord Fawley argued. "Perhaps you should shorten the allotted time to speak."

         "Lord Fawley, I never took you as a man who would silence their political opponents unnecessarily. This chamber is for the purpose of deliberation, and deliberate we must. I will not impose any time restrictions. Yes, Lord Sykes -"

         It was then that Turais understood what was happening. Lord Travers was part of Malfoy's alliance. Every single Lord he was calling upon were part of Malfoy's alliance as a cacophony of angry shouts started to occur.

         Malfoy was filibustering. He must have known that he would not win the election, therefore, he was resorting to hijacking the election by not allowing it to occur.

         "How dare you!"

         "For shame!" 

         "You are obstructing the election process -"

         "ORDER!" Lord Travers roared. "Lord Sykes..."

         The chamber quickly descended into chaos and the meeting was forced to abort soon after. A follow-up meeting was arranged two weeks from today when Turais expected for the fight to continue then.

         Turais was packing up his belongings while he saw a large pile of scrolls and parchments spill down the stairs beside where he sat.

         "Mr Minchum," one of the clerks said as she stood up, "Do you need a hand?"

         "Oh, no.... That... is not necessary," the man heaved as he struggled to pull out his wand with his right hand while preventing his other armful of scrolls from falling as well.

         Turais could not resist but cast a wandless spell as the fallen objects rearranged themselves as they flew back into the arms of Minchum.

         "Oh... thank you very much, Ms Spinnet," Minchum said happily.

         "It wasn't me," Spinnet grinned as she turned towards Turais, who was trying to pack up the reminder of his items nonchalantly.

         "You're joking," Minchum muttered as he climbed down the stairs carefully and in front of the boy. "Mr Black, please don't tell me you performed intentional underage magic in a roomful of government officials under non-extenuating circumstances."

         "Then I won't tell you I performed intentional underage magic in a roomful of government officials under non-extenuating circumstances," Turais said before he realized what he was saying. Then he winced at the thought that he just gave some cheek to the future Minister. Just as he looked up and was about to apologize, he saw Minchum's shock turn into amusement. "Long time no see."

         "Long time no see," Minchum agreed. "And a quick question. Are you aware that I was an Auror?"

         "With 'was' being the most important word of the sentence," Turais said.

         "Indeed," McLaggen grinned as he adjusted his grip on the numerous documents he was carrying. "I would shake your hand and welcome you but..."

         "That's completely understandable," Turais said quickly. "Do you require some help carrying those?"

         "No, no," Minchum protested. Then, his eyes sparkled mischievously and said, "I don't want someone to help by showing off their flashy wandless magic and finding himself three levels down in the Ministry holding cells."

         "That'd be a terrible misuse of holding cell space," Turais said as Minchum chuckled. Then, McLaggen's voice rang loudly in the chamber. 

         "Turais!"

         Turais looked towards the sound to see a smiling man breaking off from a stream of incoming Lords and approaching him. He winced and he saw Minchum mirror his expression.

         "Oh no... here comes Tiberius..." Minchum said as his eyes darted at the incoming figure.

         "Turais! It is so wonderful to see you here again -" Turais gasped as the man seized his hand painfully and pumped it up and down vigorously. "Remember when I met you at the Symposium and how I said you would have no trouble obtaining the position, I guess I am proven correct... as always,” the man's smile was all gleaming white teeth. From the corner of his eyes, newspaper correspondents were seated in the public gallery and using Self-Writing quills to frantically sketch Turais's presence in the midst of all the Wizengamot affairs. "If you have any questions or guidance, do not hesitate to correspond with me." Then, in a staged whisper, he leaned in and said, "I know Mr Flack is a bit of a doozy."

         "Ah... for now -" Turais yanked his abused hand from McLaggen's grip, "- let us keep it as Master Turais Black and Mr McLaggen, shall we?"

         There was an awkward pause before McLaggen barked out a hearty laugh. Then, Minchum cleared his throat and said, "Tiberius, please do excuse me. I have some letters from my constituents I need to respond to -"

         "Please don't stay on my account," McLaggen said sympathetically.

         "I'll see you both around," Minchum said before he headed off in the other direction. 

         "Poor man," McLaggen said. "Works too hard..."

         "Mr McLaggen -"

         "At your service, Mr Black,” McLaggen grinned as he did a flourishing bow.

         Fed up by the theatrics, Turais gritted out lowly, "If you were truly at my service, Mr McLaggen, I would request that the Potions Association respond to our inquiry into the approval of the Wolfs-"

         McLaggen tutted as he brushed some minuscule specks of lints off the shoulder of his purple robe. "Mr Black, don't try to pull rank on me. This is not the Slytherin common room."

         "I am no less aware of my surroundings than you with your frivolous showmanship," Turais replied.

         "You see, I am merely a low-ranking official on the board. I am really in no position to help you."

         "I don't believe that for a second."

         "Believe what you may, Turais," McLaggen turned to face Turais with a smirk. "Let me tell you what I believe. I believe that Lord Black does not have any influence in the Potions Association. I believe that you need my aid in expediting your case. And I believe you are asking me for that help."

         "And if I were to, hypothetically, ask you for that help. What do you have to offer?"

         McLaggen tutted again as he placed both hands on the younger boy's shoulder, pretending to straighten his robe. "Mr Black, knowledge is always bartered, not freely given..." McLaggen leaned in and whispered into his ear, "... Not even for the Black heir."

         "I would demand you stop harassing my heir, Junior Under-Secretary," Arcturus's voice drawled as he appeared behind the official. “Especially when he has never mentioned you to be a friend of his.”

         McLaggen released Turais immediately. His smirk morphed into a brilliant smile as he turned towards the older Black. "Lord Black, it is so good to see you!" the man said brightly. "I have somewhat of an interesting proposition for you. Would you be available for a private chat later today?"

         "Please communicate with my legislative director, Mr McLaggen," Arcturus said coolly.

         "As you wish. But if I were you, Lord Black, I would take care not to ignore this meeting," McLaggen said airily. "We have yet to sit down for a chat properly and I do wish to start this relationship on a positive note. Ah - I seem to have spotted Lord Ogden. Please excuse me."

         Arcturus's eyes narrowed at the man who was now trekking across the chamber towards a small group of Grey family Lords where Lord Steward was talking animatedly with his peers.

         "Be careful with him, Turais," Arcturus muttered. "The McLaggen boy does not only have great political aspiration, but he has a brilliant mind and a web of powerful connections to match it. Do not engage with him until I can find some leverage.”

         “Don’t worry, grandfather,” Turais said. “I recognize his kind.”

         Arcturus nodded. “Remember, do not trust anyone within these chamber walls except for me."

         "Yes, grandfather."

 

***

 

         Taking the opportunity to visit the records room for his work on the Wolfsbane legislation, Turais passed through the heavy, mahogany doors into the records room. There, he found himself on the balcony overlooking an enormous library with rows upon rows of shelves that stretched several stories high. Stacks of books were also piled up in various spiral towers that threatened to reach the nave vaults that formed the ceiling. Collectively, they built a magnificent portrait that resembled a city skyline in the backdrop.

        When he descended to the bottom of the staircase, he felt as if he was in a deep gorge where the corridors were the narrow valleys and the book shelves were the steep rocky cliffs. Once he reached the bottom, the light provided above filtered down into a distant glow while the towering shelves formed long, menacing shadows on the floor. As though the atmospheric charms responded to the geography of the room, Turais felt the air was cooler and damper, as though he found himself in the Final task of the Triwizard Tournament once again...

         He suddenly wished he had brought a thicker outer robe.

         His eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly-lit surroundings as he looked around. He was feeling complete loss at how to begin his search when he heard footsteps on the spiral staircase where he just came.

         "Mr Black," Harold Minchum sounded surprised as he greeted Turais. There was a lantern in his hand that provided a ring of light that chased away the darkness. "Why are you still here?"

         "Mr Minchum," Turais replied with a relieved smile. "I'm taking the opportunity of an aborted meeting to look up some reading materials. I'm afraid I found the material in the Hogwarts library... lacking."

         "The Wizengamot Records Room does not only contain the historical records of the Wizengamot, but it also has the largest collection of magical books in Europe. I would not begin to compare those two," Minchum smiled.

         "Well, I have learnt from my mistake," Turais gestured to the expansive room. "However, I'm afraid I don't know how or where to begin."

         "Let's see if I can aid with the process..." Minchum said. "Usually the librarians are here to help, but it is after hours now unfortunately."

         Minchum pointed out the dark, empty section to his left. On the front desk, there was a sign that said "Closed. We will return at eight o'clock on Monday."

         "Is that why the place is so dim and drafty as well?" Turais asked.

         Minchum chuckled. "No... that's just poor design. I have been complaining for years to improve the Weather-Modifying Charms and give this place more warmth and light. If this place must look like a bloody labyrinth that housed the Minotaur, they might as well make it feel less dreary and terrifying. But alas, my complaints were to no avail. I might have to look up how to fix them myself when my desperation peaks."

         "I'm beginning to understand why not many people visit here. I wouldn't willingly spend time here either."

         "Yet here you are," Minchum said. "What are you searching for?"

         "Literature on New Potions Applications, potions regulations, Ministry subsidies, and the likes."

         Minchum hummed thoughtfully as he tapped his chin. "I know the way to the general vicinity of the Potions section. But for your information, you can use the handy 'Point me' spell."

         Minchum pulled out his wand and pointed at the floor of the hallway in front of them. "Point me to the Potions section."

         A burst of yellow light emitted from his wand and contacted the floor. Instead of dissipating, the light seemed to have burrowed itself under the translucent tile and started to move forward, leaving a faint trail in its wake.

         Turais and Minchum followed the trail as they walked further into the maze of shelves until they reached a section where all the tiles were glowing yellow.

         "Here is the literature that pertains to Potions," Minchum declared. "You can do a more specific search now, such as 'Point me to New Potions Applications'."

         Another burst of light erupted from his wand. This time the colour was green as the shelves that pertained to the secondary requirement were now glowed green.

         "Thank you, Mr Minchum," Turais said.

         "I'll leave you to it," Minchum said. "I will be just down the hall in the Goblin Economy section. Shout if you need any help."

         "I will, and thank you," Turais said.

 

***

 

         "An 'Acceptable'?!" Pierricoeur chortled as he saw Turais's graded assignment for Arithmancy the next day. "Oh, how the mighty Black has fallen."

         Turais gave Pierricoeur a strained smile as a response as he continued to pack his bag.

         "At this rate, I will have to adjust your projection from failing an assignment before term ends to failing an assignment before Christmas," Pierricoeur said.

         "I'm glad my grade is such a source of amusement for you," Turais said.

         "Well, you can always ask me for help," Pierricoeur said airily.

         "I would if I thought you are genuinely offering it."

         "You might be an idiot in Arithmancy, but you are more definitely less of an idiot on interpreting intentions."

         Less than an hour later, Turais glanced over to Pierricoeur's "Acceptable" grade on his Study of Ancient Runes essay when he realized the boy caught his wandering gaze.

         "What?!"

         "I didn't say anything," Turais said defensively.

         "Your look said all there is to say!"

         "I am quite busy and I frankly don't have the time of day to deal with your wild oscillation between arrogance and inferiority."

         "What are you implying?"

         "I'm implying that you should take up yoga or meditation," Turais snapped as he packed his bag. Pierricoeur stormed out of the classroom as Turais deliberately loitered around, ensuring that he would not run into the other boy in the corridor.

         “Mr Black,” Professor Mather's voice called out. Turais looked up at the Professor as he continued, “If you are free, please join me for a cup of tea.”

         “Uh..." Turais checked his watch, "... yes, Professor."

         Turais followed the Professor out of the classroom. As the Head of Ravenclaw House, his office was situated in the Ravenclaw tower. They walked up the spiraling stair up to the fifth floor and the Professor led Turais into a spacious office that offered an expansive view of the Forbidden Forest, including Hagrid's hut. At Mather's instruction, he settled into a comfortable armchair by a cosy fireplace and looked around at all the blue that surrounded him.

         The walls of the circular room was lined with shelves packed with books, artefacts, and silver trophies from his past ventures as a competitive Duellist. However, one of the shelves stood out from the rest as it displayed various framed photographs instead. He then looked up to at the centre of the ceiling where a silver, ornate orrery was suspended in the air with circular bands of metal astrolabes rotating around the light source that represented the sun. It was a beautiful piece of art work, and Turais was mesmerized by the movements of tiny spheres rotating in a periodic motion.

         Everything in the room was very organized but without sacrificing the touch of warmth. It was a perfect reflection of the statesman-like aura that surrounded the Professor. It was only when Mather placed down a platter onto the side table beside him that he torn his eyes away.

         "This is a proud centrepiece of my antique collection. My favourite, if truth be told," Mather said, looking at the orrery as well. "A Goblin-wrought silver 17th-century orrery and handcrafted by a Swiss instrument-maker. It is one of the scarce few made with the participation of Goblins as the Rebellions of 1752 destroyed the cast used to make this."

         "How did you find this?" Turais asked.

         "At Borgin and Burkes," the Professor huffed with a hint of disgust. "Unsavoury fellows at a dodgy establishment. They extorted quite an exorbitant price from me once they noticed my immense interest in the piece."

         "Are you certain that this is a genuine piece?"

         "They might be swindlers, but they know their antiques well," he responded. "And the Goblin magic is unmistakable. It is the only thing that keeps it functional until this day."

         “I see...” Turais hummed before turning his attention back to the tea invitation. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Professor?”

         “I have recently discovered a unique tea mixture from China and I thought you would be interested. Care to try it?” Mather asked good-naturedly as he tapped the kettle with his wand to boil the water.

         “Why not?” Turais said as he settled into his chair more comfortably.

         “This is from a Muggle tea farm, I hope you don’t find it objectionable?”

         Turais was surprised at the notion. 

         “No, Professor. That does not concern me.”

         'Was this about Pierricoeur?' Turais thought.

         “I thought as much. Your reputation does precede you, Mr Black.”

         Turais looked at the Professor as he poured the tea into two thin china cups. He handed Turais one and he thanked him. 

         “I do apologize for any interruptions Pierricoeur and I may have caused in your previous classes." Turais took a sniff at the tea and smelt the strong whiff of green tea leaves. It seemed slightly acrid to him. "Also, I don't dislike him because of his blood status. We just have our… disagreements."

         “We are here for tea, not because of your conflict with Mr Pierricoeur. I am also quite aware who the instigator is. Never apologize if it is unwarranted, Mr Black,” Mather said as he took a sip and sunk comfortably into his armchair. “But if you leave that tea untouched for any longer, you’ll have something else to apologize for.”

         Abashed, Turais drank from his tea, but upon tasting the brew at the tip of his tongue. His face twisted into a grimace and choked into the cup. 

         “I’m afraid the tea is over-steeped, Professor,” Turais coughed as he placed the tea on the side table. “It has gone terribly bitter.”

         “Has it?” Mather asked casually before he took another sip. “I find it to be steeped perfectly.”

         “Then, perhaps, it is not to my taste.”

         “Perhaps so, or perhaps not,” Mather said enigmatically. “But either way, you are too quick to decide on the matter.”

         Turais eyed the professor in puzzlement. Mather merely gestured the tea cup for Turais to take another sip. “Why don’t you give it another chance? But this time, savour it.”

         Looking at the tea with slight apprehension, Turais braved the challenge and brought the cup to his mouth once more. After a moment of hesitation, he willed himself to endure the bitter sting and urge to expel the . 

         To his utter surprise, the tea turned sweet as if he was drinking the finest honey.

         “Oh,” Turais couldn’t help but exclaimed.

         “'Hui gan' is the term used for this lingering finish,” Mather supplied as he poured himself a second cup, “It is only found in tea leaves of the highest quality.”

         “Returning sweetness,” Turais smiled into his cup as he took a second sip. His appreciation for the tea rose as the refreshing bitterness was slowly replaced by another round of nectared pleasantness.

         “Tea leaves often have complexly layered aroma and taste. Without proper understanding, brief impressions can often be deceiving. Of course, if the quality is indeed poor, then all points are moot. I assure you with good authority that this tea is quite fine, but you will have to discover the merits of others on your own.”

         Turais glanced up at the man and wondered what else he knew about Pierricoeur.

         “Do you believe the metaphor is apt, Professor?”

         “A metaphor, you say?” Mather wrinkled his eyebrow as he raised his cup. “This is just tea, Mr Black.”

         “Of course, Professor. My apologies,” Turais said amiably as a ghost of a smile flitted across the older man’s face. 

 

***

 

         Jonty whistled as he read the headline today. It was titled "Malfoy's Alliance Calls for Fawley's Withdrawal to Overcome Deadlock."

         "Blimey, they are really committed to mutual destruction at this point," Jonty commented.

         "I don't understand how this is allowed in the first place," Alex said. "This is clearly obstruction of justice. See how Lord Fawley recused himself to ensure the integrity of the election? But now, his Deputy Chief is blatantly oppressing one candidate in favour of another."

         "You need to change your understanding of politics, Alex. The procedural rules only provide a general outline of how things work and leaves much to the interpretation to the members," Jonty explained. "For example, the rule may state that 'members must have a sufficient amount of time to express their opinions'. But what exactly is sufficient? Ten minutes? An hour? Indefinite? And depending what the Chief Warlocks's personal politics are, they may favour certain interpretations that benefits his allies. In this particular case, Travers is clearly working in coordination with Malfoy to obstruct the election process in order to force the members to vote for Malfoy."

         "But that doesn't sound fair at all."

         "It's not, and everyone knows it. That's why this fight over the Chief Warlock is so important. When the rules aren't clear, it is up to the Chief Warlock to decide what is appropriate. Therefore, although you may have a strong case that Travers's actions are morally incorrect, he is technically not doing anything wrong because there are no rules disallowing his actions."

         "Can't they do something about it? Like disallow this misconduct?"

         "They can," Turais said. "But the changing of the procedural rules happens in the Wizengamot, which will not reconvene until November. Even then, it will take a long time to go through all the legislative process to change the rules. It's not a viable remedy for the current emergency."

         "But regardless, I'm jealous that you get to see all this in real time and first-hand," Jonty said. "It must be so exciting!"

         "It's more like a headache," Turais grimaced.

 

***

 

         A record number of reporters showed up in the Visitors' Gallery to capture the increasingly volatile fight over the election of the Chief Warlock.

         "How dare you suggest the withdrawal of a candidate in order to remove the blockade that you imposed?!" one Lord cried. "This is blatant injustice!"

         "If Lord Blumenthal wishes to accuse me of any wrongdoing, please cite which procedural rule I have violated," Lord Travers said calmly. "If you cannot procure the evidence, then please keep your silence."

         "You are merely hijacking this election! The Light families only have one candidate. You are basically forcing us to give up power."

         "Do not speak out of turn, Lord Smith," Lord Travers said. "I have the authority to evict you from the rest of today's proceedings if you continue to misbehave -"

         "How ironic that you scold me of misbehaviour when you -"

         "Lord Smith, you are evicted from the chamber!" Lord Travers shouted as the Ministry guards walked down the stairs from the doors and surrounded the man who continued to shout indignantly until he was out of sight.

         Fleamont stood after he was called upon. Despite addressing Travers, he was looking directly at Malfoy when he spoke. "Lord Travers, why must you continue this mutual destruction? You do understand that this course of action does not help achieve your goal to have your favoured candidate elected."

         "I appreciate your concern, Lord Potter. But I maintain that I have the right to not move for the election until I deem it to be appropriate. Yes, the Honourable gentleman Mr Minchum."

         "I have a suggestion. If you merely want Lord Fawley to withdraw from the election, can you dismiss the election and restart the election process beginning with the nominations."

         "Yes, Lord Malfoy."

         "I do not agree with this course of action. I think it is terribly unfair to my candidacy since I have spent so much time, effort, and resources on this bid," Abraxas said to a chorus of boo's from the right side of the chamber. He merely smirked at the noise. "The election process can only be restarted with the agreement of all current candidates as well as the Deputy Chief's approval -"

         "You are conspiring with the Deputy Chief!"

         "You didn't even spend a Knut, don't lie!"

         "Lord Withers! You are evicted from the chamber for accusing another member of lying!"

         "You are despicable!"

         "I motion for the meeting to be adjourned due to unruly behaviour by a majority of the chamber!" Malfoy shouted.

         "Motion accepted," Travers said to another wave of outrage. "The next meeting will be set two weeks from today -"

         "Make the meeting tomorrow!"

         "Don't drag the process out! The Wizengamot opens next week!"

         "ORDER! I am permitted under the procedural rules to decide the time of the next meeting as long as it is within two weeks," Travers announced. “November 8th will be the next -"

         The chamber descended into chaos once again.

 

***

 

         It was the end of another aborted meeting for the election of the Chief Warlock as Turais found himself in the Ministry reading room labouring through countless reference texts while his draft stayed pitifully blank.

         "You are really passionate about the Wolfsbane Potion, aren't you?" Minchum said as he placed several scrolls and books on the table.

         "What makes you think that?" Turais said. He gestured to the dozens of books stacked beside him. The spines of the books read Aconite and Its Furry Counterpart Hairy Snout, Human Heart... Fair enough.

         "Those books and the fact that you are spending a school day in the Wizengamot Reading Room," Minchum said. "I must admit you are the only other soul besides me who've willingly spent time here in your spare time."

         "I can't be the only person crafting legislation," Turais smiled. "You are clearly over-exaggerating, Mr Minchum."

         "Perhaps," Minchum acquiesced. "But I do mean it as a praise for your dedication. What are you trying to do?"

         "Well... I want to sculpt a piece of legislation that will help subsidize the cost of the Wolfsbane Potion when it is available to the public," Turais explained. "But realized, belatedly, that I must finish the first draft of my bill if I wish to present it by the opening of Wizengamot sittings."

         "Why don't you ask Lord Black for advice?"

         Turais hesitated. "My grandfather does not necessarily care much about this particular passion project of mine. I rather involve him to the smallest extent until I have something presentable."

         "I see..." Minchum pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill as he asked, "What is wrong with the current legislation of werewolves?"

         "I think the current Ministry stances on werewolves are wrong and unfortunate. The Werewolf Registry calls for our most vulnerable, most marginalized members to expose themselves to more scrutiny and restrictions. That is a misguided effort and only serves to further alienate them from society if it is not repealed."

         "How does it affect the werewolf population?"

         "I believe we should do our best to provide the potion once it is formally approved. The cost of the ingredients and the highly specialized brewing process will make access immensely difficult for most, let alone one of our most marginalized communities. The Ministry has already made it very difficult for them to obtain permanent work and they are discriminated against on every front. I think it is unfair to also place the financial burden on them."

         "How do you aim to implement your program if you do receive the Ministry subsidy?"

         "Hmmm... I think it would be best if we could create a centralized dispensary of the Wolfsbane Potion where people can buy the Potion anonymously and at the lowest rates possible," Turais replied. "Anonymity is non-negotiable as this will ensure no one is accidentally outed and that everyone who needs the potion will be able to access it without fear. And we will offer the potion at its base ingredient cost or less, depending on Ministry subsidy or however we shall manage to fund the price difference. My wish is, of course, to ultimately provide the potion at no cost."

         "Given your insistence on anonymity, some might question how you might prevent people from taking advantage of the anonymity and, say, stockpiling on your cheap potions and selling them, for example?” Minchum challenged.

         "That is a possibility..." Turais said slowly as he considered the matter. "However, the Wolfsbane potion must be made fresh and consumed within the week. That would limit the possibility of stockpiling the potion."

         "How about reselling your potions to werewolves for profit?"

         "In theory, there is no way to stop that. But if the price for the Wolfsbane Potion is low enough, there is little incentive for anyone to resell it to werewolves in need of it. They can order it directly from us."

         "How about reselling your potions to others for profit?"

         "Well... the Wolfsbane Potion has no known applications for ordinary humans. It is only useful for werewolves as the toxicity is too high for ordinary humans to consume. Therefore, there is limited value in reselling it."

         "How about extracting out components of the potions - such as Essence of aconite - for reselling?"

         "That would be very extensive and costly potioneering, and the extracted amount would not nearly cover the cost of extracting it in the first place. You might as well buy the equivalent amount of Essence of aconite because it would be cheaper that way."

         "How do you ensure that no underaged children accidentally or deliberately send in an owl order for the potion?"

         "We can place an age-restriction charm on the delivery container to ensure that only those of age can access the potion. Once an adult receives it, it is up to the adult to ensure that the potion is stored properly and out of reach from minors, just like any other potion."

         "How much subsidy are you asking for?"

         "I am hoping it would be around the range of one Galleon per patient per full moon."

         "And that includes all seven doses that one is required to drink leading up to the full moon?"

         "That is correct."

         "Well," Minchum sighed as he set down his quill. He slid the word-covered parchment and slid it across to Turais. "Congratulations, you have just drafted your first bill ever."

         "What?!" Turais exclaimed as he picked up the parchment and read it. It was basically everything he said but written in a precise and formal manner with several spaces that were left blank in between sentences.

         "You have basically outlined the implementation criteria that ensures the subsidy would not be wasted or misused. All you have to do now is to find the corresponding sections of the law that pertains to subsidies and refer to them," Minchum said. "That is what the blanks are for. And also a title for the bill, of course."

         "Wow... thank you, Mr Minchum," Turais said gratefully.

         "This is just a first draft," Minchum said. "You will have to revise it multiple times before it is remotely presentable. I didn't do much."

         "You're joking," Turais gasped. "You've done so much. I wouldn't have figured this out in a million years, Mr Minchum! You have no idea how much time I have wasted on this for the past two weeks!"

         Minchum laughed. "I've just been doing this too many times that this is second nature. But I'm glad it is of use to you, Mr Black."

         "Well, if the Chief Warlock is ever going to be elected. Then this brainchild of mine might go somewhere."

         "It is a pretty tall order from a political body that had all the calm, dignity and exalted purpose of a dining club riot." Turais coughed at Minchum's surprising words, but the man merely continued as he looked up from his work. "I think it is quite a shame. Malfoy is clearly trying to frustrate everyone into submission and that will never work. But I'm just worried it will not be resolved in time. We are already behind in our preparation even if we elect the Chief Warlock this Friday. There is so many pieces of good legislation - such as increasing funding for St Mungo's Hospital, strengthening air traffic regulations for broom safety, establishing sanctuaries for endangered magical creatures - they are all waiting to be voted on but we need an elected Chief Warlock for anything to function in the Wizengamot."

         "I suppose I didn't truly appreciate the impact of this election."

         "Not many do. But this is just bureaucracy at its finest," Minchum grimaced. "Sometimes I just wish someone could just blast through all these restraints and get something done. The public is frustrated by the Ministry's incapability and, now, the Wizengamot is descending into a gridlock... It will not take much for the society to be torn apart. People are frustrated and I don’t blame them. I'm frustrated as well..."

         "But checks and balances are important to ensure no one ever abuses the system," Turais said. "Procedure, although tedious, is the only way that can ensure long-term stability of any governing organization. It ensures that no one can game the system for their own purposes."

         "We have an institutionalist here, don't we?" Minchum grinned. "I agree with you, for the record. But it is just depressing to see nothing getting done while I'm sitting behind a desk. At least when I was an Auror, I was running about during field operations chasing down Dark wizards. Even if we came back empty-handed, I felt like I was doing something."

         Turais resonated deeply with that feeling. "I totally understand. Politics is quite infuriating. I always try to tell myself I am doing meaningful work behind the desk, but... but it just doesn't feel the same as working in the front lines and actively pursuing your goal."

         "You are so mature for your age," Minchum chuckled. "But I'm glad I supported your bid for the Youth Representative. I can see it was the right decision."

         "You were on the selection panel?" Turais asked.

         "Indeed I am. Some of my peers - I will not name any names - were concerned about your age, but I know for a fact that age does not equal experience. One may gain more experience after living through a war than another who lived a perfectly long, stable life without ever facing any adversity. I believe your reputation and your achievements speak to your character and I was able to convince them. And I am glad to be proven right by the amount of initiative you are showing with this Wolfsbane Potions funding bill. Meanwhile, I cannot say the same for Master Malfoy." 

         "Thank you for your kind words," Turais said. "I am trying my best."

         "Sometimes, that is all you can do. Look at me, I'm just doing my due diligence to draft legislation while hoping that the situation will resolve itself. This is the best I can do with the power I have."

         "Why do you sound so removed from the situation, Mr Minchum?" Turais asked. "You have a personal stake in this election. You are one of the nominees."

        Minchum smiled sadly, "I'm only nominated by fluke. While I understand Fleamont's good intentions, Tiberius's support came as a complete surprise. I wouldn't have been nominated otherwise."

         "Don't discount yourself so soon. I've heard the other eleven elected representatives pledged to support your bid for Chief Warlock."

         Minchum smiled sadly, "But that is all the support I have. Even including Lord Potter's vote, we only consist of 13 votes in the 73 available votes. Compare this to the 14 votes Selwyn has from the Black alliance; 23 for Malfoy; and the rest of the votes for Fawley so that is... 23 votes. I simply have no chance. Even if, in some off-chance that they do not prefer any of the nominees, Tiberius would likely be their next best choice since he is so well-connected."

          "Your bloc has 13 votes, depending on who you vote for, you can at least be the king maker," Turais said. "The other alliance must court your votes to ensure a victory."

         "That's why I'm surprised that your grandfather and Malfoy did not ally together to win outright," Minchum said. "Although it could all be a ruse as far as I know. But back to your point. There is no one we want to vote for. If we vote for Fawley, the oppression of Dark families will continue. If we vote for Selwyn or Malfoy, they will be the minority in the full 77-membered Wizengamot. Nothing will get accomplished either way... A person with moderate politics is what we need in this polarized chamber, yet this person is the least likely to be supported. That's why I expressed my frustration with all these restraints earlier on."

         “I’m starting to see your point,” Turais said thoughtfully.

         "Well, I'm glad you are more open-minded than the rest of the Wizengamot combined. No one is allowing themselves to be persuaded by the other even if their argument is clearly superior. It is truly tragic."

         "I didn't say I agree with your point of removing those restraints," Turais warned airily. "I'm merely sympathizing with your frustration."

         "Well then, I take back all my compliments then."

         "I'm keeping them," Turais huffed jokingly as the older man laughed.

 

***

 

         Turais arrived at the Arithmancy classroom at the last possible second as usual. And as he was sitting down, Pierricoeur spoke.

         "Hello, Black," Pierricoeur said calmly. 

         Calmly. And an initiating friendly contact?

         That was what caused Turais to pause in shock. Pierricoeur looked up questioningly as Turais gathered enough of his wit to respond.

         “Hello, Pierricoeur,” Turais said in confusion.

         Something was different today. Pleasantly different. It had been a week since Turais's conversation with Professor Mather. Did Mather also have a conversation with Pierricoeur?

         Before he could ponder more on the intriguing subject, Professor Vector entered the classroom and started the lecture. Once again, Turais was utterly confused with the course content and failed to absorb any of the material taught.

         When the hour was nearly up, Professor Vector started to walk around returning their graded assignments.

         "Class, I have graded your assignments from last week -" Turais winced as he saw his mark. There was a big, ugly "P" at the top corner of his page. This was the first time he failed anything as Turais Black. " - most of you have done poorly, but that was to be expected since you are unfamiliar with the mathematical nature of this course. However, I do expect you to do better next time."

         Just as Turais was about to hide his paper, he realized that Pierricoeur was casting a side-glance directly at the damning sign. Turais steeled himself up with an incoming rude comment... but there was none.

         Relieved and not wanting to experience Pierricoeur's change of heart, Turais quickly packed his bag. He heard Pierricoeur curse under his breath and Turais immediately darted off, not even registering that the boy was fidgeting more than usual. Just as he thought he was in the clear, he heard Pierricoeur catch up to him from behind.

         "Black," Pierricoeur called out just as Turais turned around with a grimace. "Black... if you need any help with Arithmancy, you know where to find me.”

         Shocked, Turais turned to properly face the boy only to be met with a genuine look of concern and panic. 

         "I...I'm... thank you, Pierricoeur. That's kind of you."

         "Well, you are going to help me with the Study of Ancient Runes," Pierricoeur flushed as he high-tailed out of the classroom.

         Turais was in such shock that he almost forgot he had Study of Ancient Runes on the other side of the castle as well. Turais immediately dashed out towards his next class.

         Once he reached the classroom, he found Pierricoeur seated at his spot before Turais as usual.

         "How do you always get here so quickly?" Turais asked as he sat down.

         "Why are you acting so chummy with me?" Pierricoeur spat back. Hostility from him was back on in full force.

         Turais was confused. "W..What... I... you -"

         "Y...yo...ou y...you w...what?" Pierricoeur mocked him with glee. "Stop it, whatever you're trying to do."

         Turais had to resist the terribly tempting urge to punch the expression off his face clean. He breathed several times to calm himself. Then, he distracted himself with the small, wooden box that was sitting on his desk. It resembled a tiny chest... however, Turais noticed that there was a very faint blue glow around it. Upon a closer look, Turais could see the light was emitted from millions of individual runic alphabets that were encircling the wooden object.

         "Woah, why is this glowing?"

         Turais pulled out his wand and started to prod one particularly concentrated bundle of runes when it suddenly sprung apart and unraveled. Suddenly, the blue light started to dim as Turais quickly stuffed away his wand, pretending nothing had happened. He looked over to Pierricoeur's box, which was still glowing blue. He turned to the other tables and saw that theirs were also surrounded by a similar blue haze. Only his box was now muted without colour.

         "Why is my box not glowing?" Turais muttered to himself.

         "What are you chuntering about -" Pierricoeur snapped as the office door slammed open. Professor Mather strolled down the spiral stairs and addressed the class with his timorous and clipped voice.

         “After learning the basics of translating different types of runes and drawing runic diagrams for the past two months, we will start to talk about the importance of runes and its relation with magic,” the stern, aging man with greying hair loomed over Turias in front of a blackboard filled with indecipherable runic scripts and diagrams. His yellow eyes scanned the classroom occupied by two dozens Ravenclaws, a dozen Slytherins, and a handful of Hufflepuffs and Gyffrindors. 

         “So now, who can tell me why runes are important?” Turais shot his hand up. “Yes, Mr Black.”

         “As mentioned in class before, runes describes a collection of ancient European non-Latin languages that were used in the past for communication as well as magical activities. On a communication level, runic alphabets were used by both magical and non-magical people and could be translated word-for-word into any modern language. However, on a magical level, they have a completely different purpose. For example, algiz (ᛉ), represents a sledge or elk and has a phonetic sound of the ‘y’ in ‘fly’. However, our magical ancestors also used it to represent the rune for protection.

         “In addition, due to the difference in the history of magical development, proto-Germanic and Scandinavian magical communities in the Middle Ages often described magic based on its components rather than using a singular phrase, such as an incantation or spell. They observed and identified the properties of performed magic, and each property was assigned to a runic alphabet. For example, if they observed purely protective properties from a certain ritual, they classified it as algiz. Again, as the rune for protection. Incidentally, we have since discovered that the observations they made actually denoted the foundations of magic itself as all spells and charms, if broken down into their fundamental magical components, are formed by runes,” Turias said succinctly.

         “That is correct. Not only are runes the languages of a bygone era, they are used to describe how magic works. Ten points to Slytherin. Who else…” the professor looked around the room but no one had their hands up except for Turais. “... Mr Black.”

         “It is the different runic components and its unique combination and interaction that derives the spell’s functionality,” Turais spoke confidently, “For example, the Shield Charm - Protego - is arranged in a secondary cis- octagram with eihwaz (ᛇ), the rune for defense, as nodes and algiz (ᛉ), the rune for protection, as points. 

         “Runes are especially powerful if they are further anchored and embedded into larger tertiary or quaternary arrangements. For example, a tetrahedron of four Shield Charms is the most basic definition of a protection ward. In addition to enhancing its powers, these arrangements also greatly increase the stability of the working magic. Hence, many magical objects such as protection amulets or Time-Turners, which are heavily embedded with many layers of runes, are extremely powerful and long-lasting. However, if miscast, there could be equally disastrous consequences.”

         Professor Mather looked at the boy approvingly. Satisfied, Turais turned towards Pierricoeur and smirked. “Excellent, Mr Black. Wards are one of the most prominent examples of the importance of runes. If manipulated and utilized properly, runic drawing is a very powerful and useful tool. However, keep in mind that each rune does not solely denote one meaning. In different combinations and arrangements, their meanings and interpretations will vary. This is particularly important for recognizing curses. Take another ten points for Slytherin.

         "Ward-Architect is a highly distinguished and specialized profession for those of you interested in Warding -" Mather looked at Turais when he said the sentence. "Another great example of the importance of runes occurs in curses - not curses as in the Unforgivable Curses or blood curses, but cursed objects. Yes, while runes are commonly associated with protection, people commonly overlook their roles in curses. This is also despite the fact that there is an entire profession of Curse-Breaking that heavily depends on the in-depth knowledge of the organization of runes.

         "Curses cast on objects are - in most ways - exactly identical to warding an object. The major differences between the two are the intent of the caster, the effects of the magic, and the types of runes used. While wards aim to protect contents inside the container by resisting any form of invasion, curses aim to protect the contents by incapacitating the invader. Wards are passive; curses are active. Wards use the regular runic form, curses tend to have a mixture of the regular and reverse - or merkstave - form. As both have their strengths and weaknesses, most valuable objects have a combination of both that complements their defense.

         "We will be learning about Curse-breaking later in the term, but first, let's start with warding," Mather said as he returned to his desk. "In front of every one of you, there is a small wooden box. I have cast the most basic protective ward on it. For the remainder of class, please try to open it. And remember what the first thing you should always do before you start?"

         "Runa Revelio! " The entire class chanted.

         "Good," Mather said. "And what is the most important rule to anything related to warding?"

         "Patience," the room chanted again.

         "Begin then," Mather said.

         Turais observed around him as everyone started to prod and jab their boxes. Some tried to use brunt force and pry it open with their fingers, to no avail. He turned his attention back to his task and cast the spell, however, nothing happened.

         "Runa Revelio ," Turais muttered again. " Runa Revelio. "

         "What is the problem, Mr Black?" Mather strolled up to him.

         "What should happen when I cast the Revealing Spell?" Turais asked. "I don't see anything."

         "Well..." the man picked up the box and easily opened it. "... that is simply because the warding has been disarmed already. Good work, Mr Black."

         Turais could hear angry muttering beside him.

         "Pierricoeur, try looking for the bundle -"

         "Stop talking to me, Black."

         "What is your issue?"

         "My issue is you, just shut up!" Pierricoeur scowled as he jabbed the box with his wand. "Stupid warding."

         As the rest of the class slowly managed to disarm the box, only Pierricoeur remained with his task unfinished.

         "Stop abusing your box, Mr Pierricoeur," Mather stepped in to save the warded box away from the boy as the bell signaled the end of class. "Remember, clear your mind. Be patient and focus."

         "That's not the only quality you lack," Turais muttered under his breath as he tucked away his Spellman's Syllabary.

         "What did you say?" Pierricoeur said harshly.

         "You heard me, Pierricoeur," Turais returned. "Unless you lack comprehension skills as well."

         "You're the one who lacks comprehension," Pierricoeur said. "I told you to stop talking to me yet you continue to do so. Your voice annoys me-"

         "Mr Pierricoeur," the Professor suddenly appeared in front of them and placed their assignments on their desks. Turais realized that the Professor had observed the entire exchange. “Stay behind for a moment. I would like to speak with you regarding your assignment.”

         “Of course, Professor,” Pierricoeur said as he flipped his assignment over. However, Turais got a glimpse at the "D" on Pierricoeur's sheet that was in stark contrast to the "O" on his paper.

         Suddenly, it dawned upon Turais about Pierricoeur's oddity. He was struggling with Study of Ancient Runes and excelled in Arithmancy while Turais was the exact opposite. Pierricoeur was trying to get Turais to tutoring him and offering his service in return... by way of his off-putting way with language.

         Turais eyed as the Professor went out of earshot. He calmed himself down and steadied his voice again. "Pierricoeur, I -"

         "What?" Pierricoeur snapped as he threw his quill and paper into his bag angrily.

         "Pierricoeur, I don't know what your issue is right now, but I'm willing to take you up on your offer -"

         Pierricoeur looked up at Turais in complete confusion. "What in the bloody Hell are you talking about?"

         Pierricoeur's attitude was really grinding on his nerves. Turais forced himself to breath and calm down but somehow, this was the last straw. He turned to the boy and jabbed his finger at Pierricoeur while he engaged with Pierricoeur head-on for the first time.

         "Listen to me carefully, Pierricoeur," Turais snapped. "Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I don't need you to thank me for ensuring your brother's safety in Slytherin, which - I would like to remind you - is all because of your piss-poor attitude and filthy mouth. But I would rather appreciate that you stop antagonizing me at every turn. Also, pull the damn stick out of your arse. The world thanks you in advance."

         Turais glared at the Ravenclaw piercingly. Pierricoeur looked stunned at Turais's outburst as he stumbled backwards into his chair.

         "Great," Turais huffed, "Now that you have shut up and are hopefully listening , I am offering to tutor you in Study of Ancient Runes."

         Pierricoeur stared at Turais in shock.

         "You would do that?" Pierricoeur asked incredulously, all hostility suspended. 

         "Yes," Turais said, regret already gnawing at his consciousness.

         "I -" Pierricoeur looked like he was about to argue before he snapped his jaws shut. After a few tense moments, he said, "Thank you, let's meet up this Sunday at ten in the library if that suits you."

         Turais nodded. "I should be free then."

         “Mr Pierricoeur,” Professor Mather called out again as Pierricoeur hurried to the front.

 

***

 

         "Did you know it’s Hogsmeade weekend in five days?" Jonty announced excitedly as he flopped down onto his seat at the Slytherin table for lunch.

         "Oh no!" Alex said sarcastically. "It's not as if you didn't remind us twice every day for the past two weeks."

         Jonty threw a pea at Alex in retaliation.

         "I totally forgot!" Turais gasped as he looked up from his Spellman's Syllabary. He just promised to have a tutoring session with Pierricoeur. It would be disrespectful and frankly ill-advised to break such a fragile truce between the two of them. "I need to catch up on school work. I'm afraid I can only head up after noon."

         "Oh no," Jonty groaned, "Is there no way you can maybe finish everything beforehand? You're brilliant!"

         "Afraid not," Turais sighed. "The electives are seriously putting a strain on my workload, especially Arithmancy. I don't understand a thing about the number charts and I'm sure I failed the assignment on Friday."

         "I'm sorry that Professor Vector gives each person a unique problem so we can't help... but honestly, I'm just scraping by in that class so I'm in no position to help. But maybe someone can," Alex suggested. Turais looked at Alex, who was currently looking at Pierricoeur at the Ravenclaw table.

         "You're not actually serious," Jonty gagged. "Turais will most definitely not ask that git for any help. And in the slightest chance he does, Pierricoeur would surely laugh at his face, make him beg, thoroughly embarrass him, then leave without providing any help. I seriously question your sanity after this statement, Alex."

         "Actually, he offered to tutor me after Arithmancy class this morning..." Turais revealed.

         "WHAT?!" Jonty shouted as though Turais grew a second head.

         "Mr Steward!" Professor Flitwick shouted across the Hall. "Calm yourself!"

         Jonty raised his hand and waved an apology before he snapped his attention to Pierricoeur, then to Turais, then back again. "Actually?"

         "Yeah... I was surprised as well..." Turais said.

         Alex shrugged. "Pierricoeur seems to be in a better mood ever since Aigel managed to make some friends... well, a friend at least."

         They looked over to Aigel, who was chatting animatedly with a fellow yearmate, a half-blood called Winston Moonshine. He noticed that the third-years were looking his way and he waved at them happily. 

         "Ahem... " Turais felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Pierricoeur standing awkwardly as he stared down at his feet.

         "What are you doing here?" Jonty asked harshly. "Haven't terrorized Turais enough in class and looking for a fifth helping?"

         "Jonty," Turais waved the boy down. "What do you want, Pierricoeur?"

         "Black, I... I'm here to apologize to you for today..." Pierricoeur said quietly.

         "Is that all you've got to apologize for?" Jonty sneered.

         "... and for the last two years..."

         "So you think one simple apology can excuse what you've done for all this time?!" Jonty said.

         Pierricoeur was at a loss as he wrung his arms helplessly.

         "That's enough, Jonty," Turais sighed. "There's too much strife and too little healing. We might as well start here -"

         "But Turais!" Jonty hissed.

         "I've made up my mind," Turais said. "Listen Pierricoeur, I will forgive you -" Jonty groaned loudly, " - but I will not forget what you've done. We may never be friends but we might as well not be enemies."

         Pierricoeur nodded. "I understand... and also, about the tutoring session on Sunday... I was wondering if we can reschedule it for the next weekend because I just realized it is Hogsmeade weekend -" 

         "Yes! That's perfectly fine," Jonty interrupted. "And if that's all, you can leave now."

         Pierricoeur looked between the three of them one final time and walked away. Turais watched as the boy walked near his brother, who jolted up and gave him a big hug, before he walked back to his usual spot on the Ravenclaw table.

         "I don't understand you, Turais. Forgive Pierricoeur... What are you, a saint?" Jonty said as he kicked Alex under the table. "Tell him you agree, you dolt!"

         "Yeah..." Alex said. "... how do you forgive someone so easily?"

         Turais sighed as he looked down at his Ancient Runes homework again. "Being angry with someone is no fun. If Pierricoeur is willing to take that first step, I am willing to give him a chance..." Jonty shook his head in frustration, "... And I really need the help in Arithmancy considering that I failed the last assignment."

         "WHAT?!" Jonty shouted even louder this time as he stood up in shock.

         "One point from Slytherin, Mr Steward!" Professor Flitwick shouted.

         Jonty waved sheepishly before turning to Turais with a scowl. He then socked Turais in the arm and said, "You just lost me a Galleon, mate!"

         "What do you mean?"

         "Gerald and I had a bet last week. He said he read your teacup and saw that you would fail an assignment," Steward hissed.

         "You two bet on stuff I do?" Turais said, slightly put-off by the bizarre idea.

         "Well..." Jonty scratched the nape of his hair. "It was a strange bet but I called him on his bluff because I never imagined that you would fail anything!"

         "I'm gladdened by your confidence in me," Turais said dryly.

         "Not anymore, I'm not," Jonty said. "You owe me a Galleon's worth of Cockroach Clusters."

         "No, I do not."

         "Yes, you do."

         "By the way, the two of you are going to be breaking some school rules tomorrow," Turais said nonchalantly as Jonty choked on a gulp of pumpkin juice.

         "Did you just say that in the middle of the Great Hall?" Jonty said with a hushed whisper.

         "Yup," Turais grinned, popping the "p" at the end for extra emphasis.

         "And why, exactly?" Alex asked.

         "You'll see tomorrow night," Turais said mysteriously.

         "It's bad enough that we are doing something shifty," Jonty moaned. "And why does it need to be at night of all times?"

         "It's precisely because it is at night that we are breaking the school rules," Turais explained.

         "Oh. OOHHHH!" Jonty gasped as he looked over to the Gryffindor table at Sirius.

         "Mr Steward! Do not make me give you detention!"

Notes:

I wonder what Turais is planning to do...

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-06-13

Chapter 39: A Very Sirius Birthday (revised)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

A VERY SIRIUS BIRTHDAY


 

November 1, 1971 (Monday)

 

GRAND HEIST AT FLAMEL'S HOME?

by Sclandora Gosp

 

French Aurors have been seen entering the residency of the famed recluse, Nicolas Flamel, at an unusual frequency in the past several weeks. According to FlamelWatch, a community-led organization that tracks the alchemist’s activity, the spike in Auror and magical activity around the Flamel residency has captured their interest. Readers may know that Flamel is the creator of the Philosopher's Stone, a wondrous substance that can transform scrap metal into gold and produce the Elixir of Life. It is rumoured that the Stone is kept at his home, therefore, it is possible that the Stone has been stolen.

Of course, the Stone has been reportedly stolen several times throughout the millennium. However, Nicolas Flamel never confirmed those stories. Perhaps this was just a false alarm, but I don't believe that is the case. However, since Nicolas Flamel possesses the knowledge to create the substance, I doubt he would be too concerned about its theft. 

 

***

 

         Three Gryffindor students were strolling up to the Great Hall from the dungeons as a fourth one was red-faced and running quickly behind them, trying to keep up.

         " - good thinking on the powdered Bicorn horn, Sirius! Rookwood and his lackeys got pasted!" 

         "Couldn't do it without Remus though."

         "Yeah, how did you realize that Slughorn mislabeled the ingredients, Remus?! They were all white powder, white powder, and white powder!"

         "It... just didn't smell right, Peter," Remus said with slight discomfort. "I can't explain it."

         "Sensitive little nose, our Rems has. But good work sneaking to the other side of the room, Pete. You being little paid off."

         "Thanks!"

         Eyeing an opportunity, Turais pointed his wand at his target inconspicuously.

         "Diffindo," Turais hissed as Remus's bag split open with items spilling all over the floor.

         "Rems," James sighed as he knelt down to pick up the inkwell and a notebook. "You really should let Sirius and I buy you a new bag."

         "I can ask Turais to buy you the best one they offer in Hogsmeade," Sirius said. "I saw on one of the catalogs about a silver-reinforced bag-"

         "No silver-!" Remus said quickly. "-reinforced bag..." Under his friend's questioning gazes, Remus lowered his eyes and muttered, "I'll just read up on how to mend it later..."

         "Hey," Turais revealed himself from the shadows. "Why don't you three run up ahead to get lunch? I will help Remus fix his bag."

         James looked like he was about to argue when Sirius spoke, “Yeah, James. Turais knows way more magic than we do. Let's get food first. I’m starving."

         "But -"

         Sirius interrupted, "I'll tell Lily about -" 

         "Okay, fine!" James allowed himself to be pushed away. "You two can't hold this over me forever."

         Sirius gave Turais a wink before they entered the Great Hall while Peter followed suit. How could he not love Sirius with all of his heart? Once they were left alone, Turais whispered to Remus, "I will be planning a surprise party for Sirius tonight. Can you open the portrait hole for me at around midnight?"

         "It's a full moon tonight..." Remus said dejectedly. "I’m sorry my... uh, condition disrupted your plans."

         "Don't apologize, Remus," Turais said quickly, chiding himself internally for not remembering such an important date. He clutched Remus’s shoulders, stared into his eyes, and said sincerely, "Remember, you should never apologize for your condition. Never, ever, think this is your fault."

         "But Sirius has his best friend and you,” Remus said, “He wouldn't mind if I'm missing -"

         "Sirius would very much want you to be there to celebrate with him. I'm sure he considers you as one of his best friends too. I will just turn this surprise midnight celebration into something more... conventional tomorrow," Turais said and cast a Reparo. "Here you go, good as new."

         "You shouldn't change your plans just for me..." said Remus softly as he slung the bag strap over his head.

         "Well, I pride myself in being far more accommodating than the lunar calendar," Turais said with an encouraging smile. "Your only job is to focus on getting better tomorrow, alright?"

          After extracting a promise from Remus, Turais headed back to where Jonty and Alex were sitting. It was then he noted several Slytherin first-years plastered with bright orange paste for burn wounds. And one of them was Severus, who entered the Great Hall with a large swath of paste covering his right side of his face. His robes also had tiny holes in them that revealed the pearly white dress shirt beneath.

          Turais waved him over and asked, “Severus, are you alright? What happened?”

          “Madam Pomfrey said it's just a light scalding," Severus said, wincing as the burn wound stretched from his action. "As for what happened. A fight broke out during Potions.”

          “Between you and James?” Turais asked immediately.

          “Why do you always assume it has something to do with me and him specifically?” Severus asked. "It was that one - well - two times. And we apologized to each other for it already."

          Turais winced. “I'm sorry if I sounded accusatory.”

          “You're not completely wrong though,” Severus admitted. “It had something to do with Potter alright. But it was between him and Rookwood. Rookwood called... called Lily a mud... - you know which word it is - and Potter punched him right in the nose - in front of Professor Slughorn, no less. Then, my cauldron exploded and the potion rained on most of the students on the Slytherin side.”

         Turais recalled the conversation he overheard in the Entrance Hall and turned to look at the four boys sitting at the Gryffindor table. They all looked mightily smug, James in particular.

          “So, who was caught?"

          "If you mean who’ve received punishments, then only Rookwood and Potter received detention for fighting -” There was an audible snort from the Gryffindor table when Turais saw the four boys bent over in uncontrollable laughter and pointing at the incoming Rookwood. The Slytherin boy looked like he wore a hideous orange facial mask. Severus let off an unimpressed huff as Turais barely stifled a laugh of his own, “How old are they? Six? Honestly, Potter likes to think he’s so clever for pulling off a blinder. But if it wasn’t for me, that bumbling, pig-squeak sidekick of his would never have been able to sneak anything into my cauldron. Also, who is thick enough to leave the incriminating evidence on their own desks? Apparently, Potter is. If it wasn’t for me vanishing that empty bottle of powdered Bicorn horns before Slughorn saw it, anyone with a shred of Potions knowledge and common sense would have linked it to the explosion. Potter is just fool-hardy and... frankly... stupid. I just hope his attitude doesn't rub off on your brother, that'd be a shame.”

          “So you knew about the explosion beforehand?" Turais asked and Severus nodded. “Then why didn't you...” Turais gestured at Severus’s battered appearance.

          “Step out of harm’s way and be the only Slytherin that was not splashed? That will not be suspicious at all,” Severus said sarcastically. “Let alone the fact that every Slytherin will hate me for not taking some damage. Potter might be stupid, but I’m not.”

          "Right... Anyway, thank you for the information. I hope your wound heals quickly," Turais said. "I have some Dittany you can use-"

          "Thank you for the offer, but I'll pass," Severus said. "I don't need more attention on me. This will heal on its own just fine."

          Once the boy left, Turais buried his face into his hands and heaved a sigh.

          “I heard anecdotally that James Potter is quite the character," Jonty mused. "He’s already somewhat of a leader among the first-years. But he is very different from his cousin. They are both popular but the older one is steadfast while the younger one is... excitable. So... Like father, like son? My father told me that Lord Potter was quite the prankster as well.”

          “What does that say about me...” Turais moaned into his hands.

          “What do you mean?”

          “Nothing... That's old news. Tell me something I don’t already know,” Turais groaned.

          “Well... I guess we found a person who’s a greater trouble-niffler than you?” Jonty offered as Turais banged his head on the table.

          Repeatedly.

 

***

 

         Turais was currently in the kitchen as the house elves were preparing enough food for a small, lavish birthday party when the door creaked open once more.

         "Turais! How did you know about the kitchen?"

         He turned around to see a gobsmacked James stepping in.

         "How did you know about this place?" Turais asked.

         "Hey, I asked you first!"

         "And you're going to answer first."

         "That's not fair."

         "I don't care."

         James huffed. "Fine. My dad told me. There, your turn."

         'Well, the Marauders' Map did. But close enough,' Turais thought.

         "My dad told me as well."

         James narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but then he was distracted by the variety of food assembled.

         "Are these the food for Sirius's birthday?!" James gasped incredulously.

         "Of course! Is that why you are here?"

         The first-year nodded as his jaws remained slack. "I was planning on sneaking in some sandwiches and a dessert or two. I was not planning on bringing up an entire feast! "

         "Well, there is something called maintaining a good relation with house-elves and planning ahead of time. I told them about what I wanted for today two weeks ago and they delivered spectacularly.

         "Wicked!" James shouted as he wandered towards a gelatinous mass that was quivering and bouncing on a plate that was carried on the head of an incoming house-elf. It was green with coconut flakes on top that resembled a translucent snow hill. James looked as though he was about to poke it and Turais slapped his hand away.

         "No touching," Turais said.

         James pouted.

         "I also asked them to help decorate the dormitory, so -"

         "Pete is currently distracting Sirius with his fictitious crushes. However, I bet a few are not that fictitious," James smirked. "You told me not to let Sirius anywhere near our room until Remus comes back from his very sudden and very suspicious visit to his mother's for the second time in a month."

         "I did not say that last part," Turais frowned.

         "Well no, but isn't it a teeny bit strange to you that he's missing all the time?" James inquired. "I know Remus trusts you and goes to you for a lot of things, seeing you somehow managed to get him to act normally again. But has he not told you anything at all?"

         "Not things that I've not already been aware of," Turais mentally patted himself on the back for that answer.

         "I mean, I would understand if he was just trying to skive classes, but then he studies twice as hard compared to the rest of us. And there's him looking all pale and sickly every time he 'visits his mother'. Your brother reckons he is being abused but I just think he is lying about something. But then I don't understand why exactly he is lying."

         "Maybe he doesn't want others to pry into his private matters? There are secrets for a reason, James.”

         “Well, I tell my friends everything. What’s the point of having friends if you are not going to be open with them?”

         “You don’t tell everyone about your Invisibility Cloak, do you?” Turais pointed out. 

         James opened his mouth to argue , but his mouth hung comedically when he couldn’t come up with a response.

         “Well... that’s different.” James said lamely.

         “I know you mean well, James,” Turais said. “But please try to consider the other person’s situation. Promise?”

         “You sound just like Evans,” James pouted.

         “If you want her to like you, maybe you should listen to what she says then,” Turais suggested.

         “But she has some really bad ideas,” James complained. “Just the other day, she got mad at me for punching Rookwood. I mean, he called her a ‘mudblood’ for Merlin’s sake! I only managed to get three good punches... lucky bastard... if only I can get at him some other way...”

         Turais could see the gears turning in James’s mind and he quickly interrupted, "That reminds me, don't you have detention today?"

         "I do! Well, I mean I just did!" James said excitedly, successfully distracted from his train of thought. "But it was with Dumbledore -"

         "Dumbledore?!" Turais exclaimed. Wasn’t a fight too trivial for the Headmaster to get involved?

         "Yup! He called me up to his office and asked me a few questions before letting me go,” James said. "I like him. He is very understanding."

         "I'm sure he is," Turais said blandly. "What did he ask you?"

         "Just a bit of this and a bit of that," James said distractedly as his fingers inched dangerous close to an enticing pile of bonbons. Turais grabbed James's wrist and the boy let out a sigh of frustration. "Please just let me have one, Turais."

         "Only if you answer the question properly."

         James rolled his eyes. "He just asked me about my family tree. Do you want a play-by-play of all the questions?"

         "That would be preferable."

         He sighed dramatically before starting, "He asked me if I was named after some famous ancestor in the family. I said I was the first James in the family. He then asked if the Potters lived in Godric's Hollow throughout history and I replied that was the case, at least for the most-senior male line of our family. Finally, he asked who was the oldest ancestor of our family and I said probably Linfred of Stinchcombe or 'The Potterer.' But no one really knows for sure anyway. And that was it."

         "Don't you find it strange that he asked about your family history?"

         James shrugged as he wrung his hand free and popped a sweet into his mouth. "I don't mind answering a few questions if it means I get out of detention."

         Turais frowned.

 

***

 

         One of the first-year boys' dormitories had undergone a magical transformation. The walls, ceiling, and beds were hung with garland wreaths of evergreens and flowers that formed perfect groves. The berries gleamed and glistened with a sparkling sheen that reflected back the light of the setting sun like fairy lights. Streamers were curled perfectly as they dangled down from the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a long table that hosted turkeys, sausages, plum puddings, mince-pies, pastries, juices, Butterbeer bottles, and a tower of assorted candies. Most importantly, there was a large Quaffle cake that sat on the end of the table with twelve candles atop and the words: 'Happy birthday, Sirius!' written on it. Finishing off the elaborate decorations was the small mountain of presents of various shapes and sizes that heaped by the door.

         "I hope Siri likes this," Turais said worriedly as he adjusted the floating banner slightly towards the left. "Does this look better?"

         "I assure you that your brother will not care whether the banner is an inch further left or right," Alex said exasperatedly.

         "Just let him fuss over it," said Jonty as he bounced on one of the beds. "Oh - these beds are springier than ours."

         There was a knock on the door as everyone froze. But then, Remus poked his head through the gap.

         "Rems, you made it!" James said excitedly as he dragged the boy into the room and slapped the door shut. "You look a bit pale. But how's your mum doing?"

         "She's... she's doing much better," Remus said as he continued to goggle at the food and decorations. James’s sarcasm clearly evaded him. "This is amazing, Turais."

         "Is it?" Turais grinned happily.

         Remus nodded wordlessly when there was another knock on the door. But this time, it was to a particular set of rhythms.

         "Pete is back," James hissed as Turais drew the blinds shut, plunging the room into a twilight darkness.

         The door creaked open as light from the hallway split in. Sirius's silhouette entered the room cautiously as a chorus of party horns blared out. Turais opened the blinds once again as they all shouted, "Happy birthday, Sirius!"

         The birthday boy stood gobsmacked at the doorway as his large, round eyes absorbed the scene in front of him.

         "Is this all... for me?" Sirius gasped. 

         "Of course!" Turais said as he walked towards his brother with the levitated Quaffle cake in front of him with the candles ablaze. "Happy birthday, Siri."

         "Thank you, Turais!" Sirius squealed as they hugged. "I thought you forgot all about it..."

         "I'll never forget your birthday."

         "That's right," Sirius huffed happily as Jonty interrupted. Rudely.

         "Sops! Can we start eating yet? This pudding is telling me to eat it already!"

 

***


         The widely anticipated Hogmeade Weekend had finally arrived the day before the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. After a brutal training schedule for the past week, Turais groaned at the prospect of missing Hogsmeade when Michael announced that he had somehow secured the pitch this morning.

         Just as Turais thought his Hogsmeade plans were obliterated, Michael reversed his decision last-minute.

         "I still cannot believe Wilkins cancelled Quidditch practice," Jonty said as he wrapped himself in a woolly scarf over his large outer cloak. 

         "Me neither," Turais said. "Especially when the Gryffindor-Slytherin match is tomorrow. But I'll not look at the gift horse in its mouth."

         "Well, let's go then!"

         The three of them trekked along the trail towards Hogsmeade with their peers in the biting cold like a waddle of penguins. Amidst the excited and occasionally boisterous conversations, they arrived at the picturesque village composed of little thatched cottages and shops.

         "Where should we head up to first?" Turais asked.

         "Tomes and Scrolls?" Alex offered as he pointed at the store ahead.

         "Give over. Are you an old geezer?" Jonty asked incredulously. "Is this a quiet Sunday village fête when the elderly tombola is cancelled last-minute?"

         "How about the Magic Neep?"

         "We can't grow plants in the common room, Alex," Jonty sighed. "There's not enough sunlight."

         "Well, Devil's Snare doesn't require sunlight."

         "Are you going to get a cutting of one and place it by your bedside table so it can strangle you in your sleep then?" Jonty asked.

         "Okay, okay," Alex said. "I was just making a point about the sunlight comment..."

         "And I was also just making a point about how strange it is you want to visit a plant store -"

         "Let's go for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks then," Turais said, eager to get out of the chilly autumn winds.

         "Now that is something I can get behind," Jonty said immediately.

         They crossed the road and entered the warm and smoky inn that was packed with patrons. 

         "I'll get the drinks," Jonty said as he pulled off his scarf. He looked like he was in search of someone. "You two find a table."

         Turais and Alex made their way through the narrow space between tables and, with a stroke of luck, found a vacant table at the very back of the room just across from a series of private rooms.

         " - I'll be back with your orders very soon," the barmaid's voice sounded beside them. Turais turned to see a young Rosmerta exiting one of the rooms while leaving it half-opened. Through the half-opened door, Turais recognized the girl he had a brief encounter with.

         Turais patted on Alex's arm urgently and pointed them out. "That's Michael and Lavinia Swire, isn't it?"

         "It is!" Alex exclaimed. "What is she doing here? Isn't she supposed to be in France? Wandering a bit too far north, don't you reckon?"

         "I'm not sure..." Turais said as he continued to peek at the couple. Lavinia looked shy as she dipped her blushing face downwards, only casting the occasional glances at the polite but stiff figure across from her. Her adoration for the boy was plainly written on her face. One must be blind to not recognize it.

         "Three butterbeers -" Jonty announced as Turais snapped his gaze towards the boy, "- what are you looking at - ah - I see you have spotted Wilkins!"

         Jonty was brimming with excitement as he climbed onto his stool and leaned in as though he was about to reveal the best gossip ever.

         "I just heard from Rosmerta that Wilkins is on a date with the youngest Swire daughter. She swears they are in a courtship. But I swear the girl must be a goner for Wilkins to travel all this way just to see him for several hours when she studies in Beauxbatons!! Beauxbatons!"

         Jonty was scanning their faces. But his face fell when it did not elicit the reaction he was expecting.

         "Why are you not the least bit surprised?" Jonty asked.

         "Well..." Turais and Alex shared a look. "We saw Michael and Lavinia's families together when we were shopping in Diagon Alley -"

         "And you two decided that it was not worth mentioning to your best friend? " Jonty hissed angrily.

         "I mean... they weren't in a courtship then... and even if they were, a courtship is really only their families’ own business," Turais said.

         "It's only their families’ own business, " Jonty mocked Turais's tone and groaned dramatically. "Why am I stuck with you two oblivious fools? This is going to be the talk of the town!” Jonty huffed as he sat on his chair, “Now I don’t feel like sharing the second piece of gossip.”

         "Come on, Jonty," Turais said. "Don't be so spiteful."

         "In case you forgot, I am a Slytherin pureblood. Spite is my middle name," Jonty huffed as he crossed his arms in an act of defiance.

         "Fine. Be the spoilsport that you are," Turais smirked as he savoured his hot tankard of foamy butterbeer. "You can't resist telling us anyway."

         Jonty glared at Turais for a long minute before he dropped his stance.

         "Fine! You win," Jonty snapped as he took a gulp of the butterbeer in front of him. "Merlin knows I hate it when you're right. So... Rosmerta told me that the villagers have heard screams and shouts from an abandoned shack nearby since the beginning of this summer. But in the most recent haunting, there has also been howling. They called Dumbledore in to investigate and he said the shack is possessed by some violent spirits. But I don't understand why he didn't do something about it. It's so close to the school and it could be dangerous."

          'The Shrieking Shack!'  Turais thought.

         "But why did Dumbledore not do anything?" Alex mused. Then, he gasped, "Maybe it's something that even he can't banish?"

         "What? Dumbledore's the most powerful wizard in all of Britain!" Jonty said as he paled. "If he can't banish that thing , I'm not messing with it."

         "Heyo, Steward!" someone shouted behind Turais. Jonty looked over his shoulder and waved the person over.

         It was Kaiden. Turais's eyes darted towards the open door where Michael and Lavinia were. He aimed his wand discreetly at the door as it closed with a click just as Kaiden walked past it.

         "Hey, Rais. Nice to see you here," he said and placed a large paper bag on the table.

         "What do you have there?" Jonty asked as he peered inside. But Kaiden was quicker to scrunch the bag closed. 

         "Nothing for you," Kaiden declared as Jonty's shoulders drooped. "I bought these for Michael."

         "Come on. He won't find one tiny piece missing from this large bag -"

         "Update me on the latest, Steward," Kaiden interrupted.

         Jonty sighed as he quickly told him about the Shrieking Shack.

         "Where is it?" Kaiden asked immediately.

         "It's in the moor just beyond the little wooded area at the far end of the village. Only thing within miles, you can't miss it."

         "Okay, I will definitely check it out with my friends next time."

         "What?" Jonty teased. "Too scared to go alone?"

         Kaiden tutted. "I hear a chicken clucking."

         "Cheers to that, Potter," Jonty said and took a sip. "I'm not sticking my neck out for something remotely dangerous. Didn't someone just lose an eye playing Granny's Footsteps with the Whomping Willow?"

         "Almost lost his eye," Kaiden grimaced. "And it's a first-year in our House, Davey Gudgeon. He was dared into doing it by my younger cousin in what? - the first weekend."

        'Why, James? Why?!'  Turais groaned internally. So he was the boy who was lying in the Hospital Wing when they were looking for Remus back in the first weekend of September.

         "Lacking wit, getting hit," Jonty shrugged.

         "Is there more?"

         "Nuh uh, you know how this works, Potter."

         "I could have gotten the haunted shack story from anyone here," Kaiden said crossly. "That was not worth a trade."

         They engaged in a silent staring contest for a moment before Jonty yielded. "Fine... it was worth a try. However, you probably already know about the other piece of juicy gossip though."

         Kaiden frowned, "What do you mean? I just arrived and I haven't a chance to speak with anyone yet."

         Suddenly, Turais recognized trouble and quickly cast a Silencing Charm at Jonty under the table. The boy's mouth opened to respond only for him to speak wordlessly in confusion.

         Kaiden turned his attention to Turais, the corners of his eyes were crinkling in confusion. "Rais? Why did you silence Steward -"

         From the corner of his eyes, he saw young Madam Rosmerta strutting in their direction with a tray of drinks. She was returning with Michael's orders.

         "Mr Wilkins," Kaiden's head immediately snapped towards the barmaid's voice and spotted Michael through the opening. "Here's your order. A mulled mead and a red currant rum."

         "Michael?" Kaiden muttered to himself as he walked over. "Michael! Why are you here? I thought you were busy with - " He halted and observed Michael's guilty expression and Lavinia's surprised one. " - oh - Have I met you before, miss?"

        All the blood drained from Michael's face completely, rendering him pale with sickness and worry. He looked between the two helplessly while the tall and willowy figure stood up. Lavinia Swire was dressed in her baby-blue silk dress, stylized matching cape, and black lace-up shoes, which shone in stark contrast against the mundane black and brown of her surroundings. Her cape fluttered gently as she glided gracefully towards them with an air of grace and effortless composure and extended her hand to the shell-shocked boy.

         "No, I’m afraid we haven’t. You must be Kaiden," Kaiden took Lavinia's hand shakily while his terrified eyes were still trained on Michael. "I've heard so much about you from Michael. I'm Lavinia, Michael's -"

         "Friend," Michael immediately said. "Friend."

         Lavinia flushed pink. "Ah... yes, we are still getting acquainted. But we hope to become something more official soon..." Lavinia let go of Kaiden's hand to loop her arm around Michael's despondent one and gazed up at him adoringly.

         Kaiden's gaze swam frantically between the two when a sudden horrifying realization dawned upon him. His lips trembled and said stutteringly, "Oh... I... I see. I... I've heard m...many pleasant things about you from Michael as... as well."

         "Please do join us for a drink while you're here, Kaiden," Lavinia said kindly. "Does mead suit your taste -"

         "I...I'm not of age yet," Kaiden ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide in panicked search for the exit.

         "How about Butter-"

         Kaiden took a half step backwards. Then another. His face was screwed up in a pained expression. "Please excuse m...me, Lavinia. I'm not feeling too well -" He bumped into an empty chair behind him and stumbled slightly. "Enjoy your date, Michael, I...I'll..." Then, he turned around and ran.

         "Kaiden!" Michael shouted, but the boy heeded no attention to his words as he continued to stumble past the patrons towards the exit. Looking back with wide eyes, Michael gasped, "Lavinia, I -"

         "Michael, go," Lavinia said with sincerity in her eyes. Placing a gentle touch on Michael's arm, she continued, "Your friend seems to be in distress. Please tend to him."

         "But what about you?"

         Lavinia smiled and said softly, "My mother would love for me to visit her longer anyway."

         Michael breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Lavinia. I don't know how to compensate you."

         "You don't have too. I'm glad to have seen you today..." Lavinia blushed, "... and maybe next Hogsmeade visit as well?"

         Michael shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... I might be busy with Quidditch."

         "Of course," Lavinia said immediately. "Silly of me to suggest that. Of course the captain must be present at his practices during the Quidditch season."

         Lavinia remained standing as though she was waiting for Michael to do something.

         "Uhm... is there something else?" Michael asked.

         "Oh no..." Lavinia looked a bit flustered. "I... I... will just see myself to the Floo. Goodbye, Michael."

         "Oh..." Michael flushed. "Goodbye, Lavinia."

         Lavinia started to walk away slowly while casting longing, backward glances. However, Michael had already darted towards the exit without paying her any attention. 

         "What on Earth was that?" Jonty hissed. Turais had an inkling, but he merely shrugged and sipped on his mug with a frown.

 

***

 

         "ACKKKK!" Screams erupted in the distance just as Turais fetched his Nimbus 1700.

         "What happened?" Turais demanded as he entered the common room. At the same time, several squirming, writhing boys tumbled down the stairs with unsteady footsteps. Turais recognized them as first-years sharing the same dormitory. "Can someone tell me what happened?"

         "This!" Rookwood snarled as he swept back his hair to reveal a large, angry patch of red skin on one cheek. Similar blotches were seen peeking from under the sleeves and trousers.

         "That looks like an allergic reaction," someone offered.

         "Thanks for the enlightenment!" the boy shouted back.

         "Did you come into contact with -"

         "Do we look like dimwits to you?! Of course we did not touch anything," Rookwood snapped. "Come on, we need to find Slughorn to get us something for this!"

         The five boys continued scratching at their backs and limbs as they filed out.

         "I wonder what happened?" Alex said as the rest of the Slytherins buzzed with excitement as to what exactly happened to them. But Turais had a good idea who was - or were - the culprits.

         Turais entered the Great Hall hoping to have a chat with Sirius and James, but his attention was diverted almost immediately to the glaring absence of both Qudditch captains. Turais feared it was because of what happened in Hogsmeade. And his fear was confirmed as he caught whispers of the rumours that involved "Wilkins", "Potter", and "a pretty Beauxbaton girl."

         "I heard that Wilkins is marrying the Swire girl for her family’s gold," Jonty said in a hushed whisper. “Apparently his father owes the goblins a lot of gold due to some bad investments. But Wilkins has luck on his side as the Swire girl is besotted with him.”

         "Really?" Turais muttered in understanding. Looking around, he noticed that the captain was still not present, which was quite uncharacteristic of him. Clearing his throat, Turais stood up and said, "Well, I'm going to head down to the pitch right now. I need to find out where our missing captain is."

         "But you didn't even have breakfast yet!" Alex shouted behind him.

         A cluster of footsteps sounded as Cornfoot appeared in his periphery while he reached the misty haze that enveloped the grounds. The rest of the Slytherin team, except Michael, were all present.

         "Do you know where Wilkins is?" Cornfoot asked.

         "No clue -"

         "BLACK!" Someone shrieked from behind as they jumped. Gwenyth Orpington was shoving her way past other Quidditch players angrily. "WHERE IS THAT USELESS KNOBHEAD WILKINS?!" 

         All the boys winced in pain at their abused eardrums.

         "We are wondering about the same -"

         "Spare me the lies, Black!" Gwen shrieked. "Do you know where that completely-undeserving-piece-of-blithering-tool-so-dense-that-light-bends-around-him is?"

         "Orpington," Cornfoot braved the heaving girl who looked quite similar to a brooding Hungarian Horntail mother. "We really don't know."

         Gwen's eyes searched the boy's face and then Turais'. "I better not find you covering for your beloved captain or I will tear you to shreds with my teeth," Gwen threatened. "BLACK OR NOT, BE DAMNED!"

         "Do you reckon it has something to do with Potter?" Harper asked as they watched the girl headed back to the castle.

         "Haven't you heard?" Pyrites said. "Potter and Wilkins's date - that Swire girl - had an argument at the Three Broomsticks. Potter must have said something terribly rude since Swire slapped Potter across the face and he ran away in tears."

         "No, that isn't what I heard," said Riley, the new Chaser said. "Potter and Wilkins had a falling out because they both liked the Swire girl since they met at a Ministry function two summers ago. Pity she went to Beauxbatons or else I might have a chance with her."

         "Stuff it, Riley," Gibbon snided. "Between Wilkins, and Potter, she won't even bat an eyelash at you."

         "Speak for yourself!" Riley huffed. "I'm good-looking!"

         "Okay, team. Who's better looking, Riley or a toa-"

         "The toad," Pyrites said without sparing a thought while the rest of the group laughed.

         When they reached the changing room, Turais pulled out his wand to unlock the door when he realized it was already opened. Confused, he entered to find Michael shrugging on his Quidditch robes. The captain merely glanced at the bewildered team before continuing with his routine. His eyes were bloodshot, clearly from a lack of sleep. 

         "Uh... did you sleep in here last night, cap?" Cornfoot asked hesitantly as he eyed the transfigured pillow and the pile of spare Quidditch robes.

         Michael grunted once, which Turais assumed it meant yes. The team shared a discrete and concerned look with each other.

         "If you're just going to stand there, why don't you go out to the pitch and warm-up?"

         His voice was low and dangerous.

         "Right away, cap," Turais quickly said as he ushered everyone to the other side of the room and out the door. Before he could exit, however, Cornfoot blocked him.

         "Talk to him," Cornfoot whispered and thumbed towards the captain. Turais nodded as Cornfoot mounted his broom and flew off.

         "Hey Michael, did you know someone played a prank on the first-years?" Turais hedged.

         Michael charmed the spare robes back into the storage room wordlessly. Through the thin wooden walls, he could hear the footsteps of eager students arriving for the match.

         "Where have you been last night?"

         The captain retrieved his broom from his locker.

         "Kaiden wasn't at breakfast this morning," Turais said quietly as he walked up. Michael's actions stilled as Turais continued. "Did you two manage to clear the air?"

         No answer.

         "Why haven't you told Kaiden about Lavinia before yesterday?" Turais asked, his voice grew louder as he became angrier. "What were you thinking, Michael? You are begging for trouble if you're having a clandestine rendezvous with your intended in Hogsmeade during Hogsmeade weekend when half the school is all crammed into one tiny village!

         "Why is this even a secret?!" Turais was shouting now. "Kaiden's your best friend! I'd think he would be the first person you told about this. I'd think he would want to be told. Do you know how upset he was yesterday?! That was the worst way for him to find out!"

         Turais breathed heavily as the captain closed his eyes. The chattering and footsteps outside were growing noisier and louder.

         "Why, Michael? Why?" Turais asked "Say something. Please!"

         "I didn't want him to know," the other boy whispered into his locker. "I didn't want Kaiden to know."

         "Why?"

         "I... I just didn't want things to change between us."

         Turais's anger ebbed. He said softly, "How would things change? He's still your best friend and you're his."

         "But... but it's just going to be different, Turais," Michael said with frustration, "You don't understand, Turais."

         "Then help me understand."

         "I... I can't!" Michael huffed hopelessly as he buried his face in his hands. Suddenly, the boy in front of Turais seemed so incredibly small, as if invisible iron shackles of society, family, and loyalty were weighing down on him, imprisoning him, suffocating him...

         Just then, the Slytherin team clambered noisily back into the changing room. Michael cleared his throat as he retrieved his Beater's Bat and slammed the locker shut.

         "I wanted you to calm him down, not make him depressed," Cornfoot hissed into his ear angrily.

         Turais gave the Beater a helplessly shrug before they lined up for Michael's pre-game speech.

         

***

 

         “Pyrites steals the Quaffle from Potter - the Gryffindor captain is not playing so hot today, is he?" Hawthorne's voice echoed throughout the packed stands. "Passes to Riley - then to Harper - back to Riley - SLYTHERIN SCORES! And Wilkins motions for a time-out!"

         Turais watched as Michael flew over to his fellow Beater.

         "As a quick recap, the Slytherins, with 300 points, are currently leading with a healthy margin of 200 points, against the Gryffindors, which has 100."

         Michael muttered something in his partner's ear, who immediately turned and frowned at the decidedly less energetic Kaiden. Then, Cornfoot turned back to Michael and started to gesticulate angrily.

         "Cornfoot seems to be in a disagreement with the captain. I wonder what it is about," Hawthorne observed. He mimicked a voice of a high-pitched diva, "Captain, we are winning by 200 points already. Can I take a quick snooze by the stands? " Then, he cleared his voice noisily and pressed on his throat, "Ahem!  We need to win by 900 points at least - ahem! SHUT UP, KAIDEN! "

         On the other end of the pitch, Kaiden started and dropped the Quaffle that the Gryffindor Keeper, Walters, passed to him. Michael sent a venomous look at Hawthorne as well. But the impersonation was well-received by the crowd as they started a wave of laughter. 

         The whistle sounded once again to resume the game.

         "Potter - who has yet to score a single goal today - passes to MacGregor - Bludger by Cornfoot and Quaffle back to Harper - to Pyrites - then Riley - misses pass and Findley gains possession - Bludger by Wilkins - manages to pass to MacGregor - throws to Potter - who misses the catch by a mile - Pyrites recovers it for Team Slytherin - Potter flies to intercept -"

         As Turais watched the action, something gold sparkled as he immediately flew towards it.

         "Black spotted the Snitch - Bludgers from the Gryffindor side aimed at him - Patridge is hot on his tail -"

         Turais barrel-rolled over the first one. It flew harmlessly overhead as he oriented himself once again only to see he was on a head-on collision course with two Chasers, Pyrites and Kaiden. They were currently locked in a struggle for the Quaffle.

         Pyrites and Turais's gazes met for a split second. Their eyes widened at the sight of danger and they immediately took evasive action. At the same time, the Snitch plunged towards the ground. Turais followed with a quick tip of his broom downwards while Pyrites pulled up.

         Turais closed his fingers on the Snitch just as a sickening crack sounded from above. Turais looked up to see an escaping Bludger, a horrified Slytherin chaser, and an empty broom floating idly. Screams erupted all around him accompanied by his own racing heart.

         There was a fluttering of robes and Turais immediately sped down towards the falling boy. Turais pushed for his broom to go faster but the pitch ground was rapidly approaching. In a desperate lunge, Turais pushed himself off the broom and grabbed for Kaiden's arm.

         "Carpe Retractum!"  Kaiden's arm jerked towards him and Turais gripped it tightly. Green filled up his vision entirely. "Arresto Momentum! "

         There was a violent series of lurches as all the air was squeezed out of his lungs. Turais opened his eyes to see the tip of his dangling robe, like Kaiden's slack left shoulder and arm, grazing the tips of the luscious grass. The invisible cushion dissipated as they were slowly lowered to the ground.

         "KAIDEN!" Michael shouted as he jumped off his broom and tumbled onto the ground messily. He climbed back onto his feet with his arms, shoved Turais aside, and stumbled beside the unconscious boy. "Kaiden," the Slytherin captain whispered his name again, fear clearly evident in his quaking voice, as his shaking hands brushed back some of the blood-matted hair to reveal an ugly wound on his scalp that was oozing blood.

         "We need to get him to the Hospital Wing!" Michael shouted while Mister Williams cast a diagnostic charm on the Gryffindor. "Now!'

         "Mr Potter merely has a mild concussion," the Flying instructor announced.

         "Merely has a concussion! "Michael bellowed angrily, glaring daggers into the man. "He could have permanent brain damage -"

         His tirade was cut short, however, by a soft groan. Michael immediately stopped talking and took Kaiden's hand, squeezing it lightly.

         "Kaiden?" Michael asked, very softly. "I'm here, don't worry."

         Kaiden made a noise of discomfort and looked as though he was trying to open his eyes, but then he burrowed his face into Michael's robes and drifted out of consciousness once again.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-06-27

Chapter 40: Ten of Swords (revised)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY

TEN OF SWORDS


 

November 26, 1971 (Friday)

 

CHIEF WARLOCK FIGHT = DEATH MATCH?!

by Sclandora Gosp

 

There have been murmurs that the very heart of our government - the Wizengamot, itself - is under siege. A devious plot to eliminate certain candidates from the election of the Chief Warlock to aid the election of another is currently under way as the Wizengamot continues to be paralyzed by in-fighting. We have reached out to the Auror Offices for a statement and have not received one as of the time of publication...

 

***

 

         Turais was in a daze for the entire Divination class when Professor Trelawney handed back their graded dream journals and announced a surprisingly early end of class.

         As Turais stood up to leave, the Professor called out, "Mr Black, can you stay behind for a moment?"

         "Yes, Professor?" Turais said as he headed back to the centre of the classroom. 

         "Please take a seat," she said, gesturing at the pouffe in front of him. Turais obliged.

         "Mr Black," Trelawney said across the small, circular table. "I would like to talk briefly about your assignment."

         Turais cocked his head in confusion. He received an Outstanding grade for his meticulously written assignment aimed at eliciting a response from the Professor. But unfortunately, she did not seem to pick up on that fact -

         "Now, now. Don't act surprised, Mr Black. We both know this was your intention," she said. "The dreams that you have provided seemed normal at a passing glance. However, if one were to read closely, elements and images were placed in a deliberate and intricate fashion. And most importantly of all, all the dreams pointed towards a unifying question. Instead of a series of naturally-occurring dreams, these were well-researched and meticulously synthesized prompts."

         "I..." Turais considered his words, "I... do have a question that I would like to find the answer to in this class. But I do apologize for my dishonesty."

         "Don't apologize. It was an interesting read," she said dismissively. "It was the most effort I've seen anyone put into my assignment and I was secretly pleased. However, is this why you remained in this class despite your obvious disinterest?"

         Turais nodded.

         "I have expected this much," Trelawney stood up and walked across the incense-filled room to one of the large cabinets. "Please don't look so surprised, Mr Black. Prior to my decision to speak with you today, I have had conversations with my colleagues and they all provided glowing reviews of your behaviour and academic integrity. However, I have not seen any indication of that in my class..."

         She returned to the table with a crystal ball and holder and placed them in the centre of the table.

         "I've heard that tarot readings are far more precise," Turais commented. "Can we do that instead of crystal gazing?"

         Trelawney looked at him for a long, hard moment. Then, she said sternly, "Mr Black, tarot reading is no trivial matter, unlike what many wizards and Muggles falsely believe it to be. It is not a parlour trick that one does for fun."

         Chimes shimmered softly as the jewelries bounced off each other while her arms moved. After setting up, she resumed a sedentary position and closed her eyes. She breathed in and out steadily for several minutes before she asked airily.

         "Mr Black, train your thought onto your question but do not utter it," Trelawney said as Turais spoke the question that weighed in his mind.

          'Where are Tom Riddle’s diary and the Hufflepuff Cup?'

         The Professor reached her arms out, eyes remaining closed, as she moved them over the crystal ball in a circular motion. Then, she made a distressed noise as she retracted her arms.

         "This is a question beyond my Sight..." she whispered. Turais felt his frustration flare as his disappointment grew. "... the items you seek are wildly in motion... in use and in disuse... vague... hard to gra- gra-sp-"

         The Professor choked on the last word as she began to shake violently. Throwing herself on the table, her arms swung like a possessed rag-doll and swept the crystal ball off the table, smashing it into millions of tiny shards. Turais instinctively leaped out of his chair and palmed his wand. 

         "Profes-"

         She suddenly became frighteningly still. Then, her head slowly tilted upwards as her hairs parted sideways to reveal only the whites of her rolled-up eyes. White froth collected at the corner of his lips as her mouth widened to speak. But no sound escaped her mouth.

          In the deadly stillness, the muted ticking of the clock above the fireplace was the only evidence that the world remained in motion.

         'You tread dangerously,'  the deep voice reverberated deep within him uncomfortably. Turais immediately reached his hand up to press on his sternum, but that failed to stop the vibration. He felt as if his entire body was being pulled in all directions, threatening to tear his body into millions of pieces. 'This is not your domain. Do not seek guidance through divination nor aid through time. This is your final warning.'

         "Who are you?" Turais gasped out heavily as he clutched his head, desperately clinging on to his sanity.

         'What is meant to be known will be known; what is meant to be hidden must remain hidden.'

         Suddenly, the hold on him vanished in an instant. Turais panted heavily as he inspected himself. There was no sign of his supernatural event. His lingering shock was the only proof of what he experienced.

         Turais edged backwards as the woman pushed herself onto her feet. She shook her head slightly, as if she was in a slight daze. Then, her eyes landed on the shards of crystal that surrounded her. "Oh my!" Trelawney gasped, "Did I do this?"

         She looked up at Turais, bug-eyed, as Turais gave a trembling nod.

         "I am so sorry, Mr Black," Trelawney reached forward, but Turais shrunk from the contact. “But I just exp-”

         "No worries!" Turais said with false brightness as he inched towards the trapdoor.

         "Wait!" Trelawney commanded as she rummaged her cupboard "I had just experienced a vision -"

         "NO!" Turais covered his ears. He just wanted to get out of here quickly. "You don't need to tell me."

         "I must warn you! I saw a figure..." Trelawney continued as she found a pack of cards with strange images and symbols , "...yes... a man... in a dark hallway... I see carpets... a large room... columns... crimson chairs... many of them... arranged... I see the back of a large chair-" Turais's eyes widened as he understood the implications. "- on one of the lecterns I saw a four-card tarot spread -"

         Trelawney quickly pulled out four cards and lined them up in a row. Turais edged closer while she rambled on, "Situation - Upright Ten of Swords; Problem - Upright Moon; Advice - reversed Emperor; Solution - reversed Death. This is a classical spread that looks into your near future, Mr Black.

         "I thought tarot readings were sacred -"

         "They are. Tarot readings must only be granted with a true pair between a gifted and the seeker. It rips apart the very fabrics of time and offers the gifted a glimpse of an actual future. It is a very, very powerful divination... and equally as dangerous. No one - absolutely no one - ever dismisses the visions granted by a tarot reading. Acceptance is the only way... and I... and..." Intense conflict wrote themselves across her face. After a moment of deliberation, she said in a hushed whisper, "And especially not when I serve as the medium... I... have done one reading many moons ago and it pointed towards three events that serve as major inflection points for our future. Two have already been fulfilled, and the final one will undoubtedly come to fruition.

         "I agree with Mr Macmillian. Death surrounds you, clothes you, are within you... I don't understand my observations, but those are the indisputable facts. Therefore, despite my urges, I never dared to conduct a reading for you in fear of what we shall discover together," Trelawney said with a small voice. "Knowledge is not just a gift. It is also a curse and a burden."

         Turais found himself with a loss of words.

         "W...what changed?"

         "Alas, despite my best efforts, I was unable to stop the higher powers from bestowing me this terrifying beauty of a vision. I dare not ignore the tarot spread that was bestowed in a prophetic vision. And clearly..." Trelawney looked at him sincerely, "...it was meant for you to know as well since there must always be two: a gifted and a seeker, a seer and a listener, me... and you."

         There was a heavy silence hanging over them as the fire cackled lowly beside them.

 

 

 

         Trelawney finally turned her attention to the table and tapped on the leftmost card. "Your situation card is an upright Ten of Swords. Look at the ten swords embedded in the person, it suggests you may soon experience a series of painful yet inevitable ending that comes out of the blue and rocks your world, both physically and psychologically. You will never expect it."

         "Your problem card is an upright Moon, which indicates a time of uncertainty and illusion when nothing is what it seems. The Moon also represents your fears and illusions. You might be projecting fear into your present and your future based on your past experiences. You may have a painful memory that caused emotional distress, and now, these emotions are making a reappearance due to your situation, and you may find yourself under their influence on a conscious or subconscious level. You must be mindful when making snap decisions because you may later realize you only have half the information you needed. However, you must rely on your intuition to see beyond what is in front of you. Yes, it is self-contradicting advice, which is why this is such a dangerous, dangerous card in combination with the Ten of Swords.

         "Your advice card is a reversed Emperor, which means you must assess your relationship with control, power, and authority. The reversed position suggests an abuse of power around you. Perhaps a trusted authority or figure is deceiving you. You must investigate the sources of those powers in order to solve your predicament.

         "Finally, your solution is the reversed Death -"

         "Does it mean someone will die?" Turais asked. "I've heard plenty of death predictions and I don't think they are ever true..."

         "Normally, the Death card simply means transformation, the end of a cycle and beginning of another, the present that bridges the past and the future. In reverse, it shows that you will have a very difficult time letting go of what had already happened and not make the changes you need for the future. However, in this particular combination..." Trelawney said solemnly as she waved her arm over the spread, "It means that death is highly likely. You will be surrounded by many deaths... This is your near future. It is unavoidable."

         "So what should I do?" Turais asked, slightly unnerved by the knowledge.

         "There are three major arcana cards - The Moon, The Emperor, and Death - which means your problem, advice, and solution are more important that the situation itself, which is only a minor arcana. The spread suggests that whatever is to happen, which are many as indicated by the swords, is inevitable. You must prepare yourself and brace for the challenges ahead. I'm sorry, my dear, but that is all the information I can provide."

         Shaken by Trelawney's possessed state just moments ago, Turais headed to a secluded spot to gather his thoughts.

         He reached the long, scenic walkway on the fifth floor that overlooked the expanses of the school grounds. The dark, murky waters of the Black Lake reflected its surroundings impeccably under the hazy, morning sun. Suddenly, there was a sudden gust of wind that passed through the space. The bendy trees shuffled noisily as ripples formed on the glassy surface of the lake.

         "Death," the boy greeted.

         'Young master, I sense you have questions.'

         "Who, or what, gave me a warning against using divination and time?" 

         Death remained silent.

         "Death?" Turais asked forcefully.

         'I do not have an answer to that question for I do not know the answer.'

         "Do you really not know or are you hiding the answer from me?" Turais challenged.

         'There are many things in the universe that I know, but there are things that even I do not understand. Divination is one. Time is another. They are simply not within my domain.' 

         "Domain!" Turais seized on the word. "You both used the word 'domain'. What does it mean?"

          'It means that within my jurisdiction, I have complete control over my own matters. However, beyond that, I have neither knowledge nor power over them. Perhaps your attempt to use divination has trespassed into another's territory and they were cautioning your advancement.'

         Turais hummed thoughtfully.

         "So there are other entities similar to you?"

         A sense of affirmation confirmed his suspicion.

         Turais supposed that divination was now out of question.

         "And how do I contact them?"

         'You don't.'

 

***

 

         On the next Hogsmeade Weekend, Turais found himself walking past the Black Lake towards Hogsmeade alone. He observed how the russet appearance of the forest had been replaced by a thin sheen of crystalline white. Turais breathed out a puff of air and watched as it slowly faded into the golden rays above. The frigid air was sharp like needles as they burrowed into every crevice and space, plundering every inch of exposed skin until red wastelands remained. Turais tucked his thick outer cloak around himself closer.

         "Hey, Turais," someone said as Turais felt a pat on his left shoulder.

         "Oh, Catherine," Turais said with a hint of surprise as he greeted the smiling girl with a slightly pink nose. "How are you doing?"

         "Splendidly," the sixth-year grinned.

         "Congratulations on the Snitch catch victory over Hufflepuff last week. "

         "Thanks," Catherine smiled. "It was a very close finish and Ted was very gracious."

         "He is a good lad," Turais said. "However, I do feel conflicted. By celebrating your first victory, I also celebrate Captain Wanker's first victory as well."

         Catherine laughed, "Well, don't think about Captain Wanker then. I don't mind having all of the attention."

         "You already do," Turais said. Then, he realized that Catherine was looking at him curiously. "I mean, you're a fairly decent Seeker. You were definitely the MVP of the match."

         "That's really nice of you to say..." Catherine said softly, perhaps even a bit ruefully.

         “Well, you’re not as good as me, I suppose,” Turais joked.

         Catherine gaped at Turais before she laughed, “Someone’s a bit full of himself, I see.”

         “It’s not if his aptitude matches his words.”

         “I will see for myself come February,” Catherine said with a challenging glint in her eyes.

         “Bring it on,” Turais grinned. “I can hardly wait.”

         They shared a small smile before Catherine cleared her throat and asked, "A bit of a late start, huh?"

         "Quidditch practice," Turais grimaced.

         "Oh, poor you," Catherine said sympathetically. "Is Michael still in his foul temper streak?"

         "Yes."

         "He really should stop taking out his frustration on the team. You are not his personal punching bag."

         "Try telling him that for me," Turais snorted. "How about you?"

         "You're going to tease me for it."

         "Now, I have to know," Turais said. "Were you in - Merlin-forbid - group study session?"

         Catherine glared at him wordlessly and Turais barked out a laugh.

         "So it was a group study session?" Turais gasped in between breaths. "On a Sunday morning? And on Hogsmeade Weekend?"

         "Are you done laughing yet?" she said, sounding slightly miffed.

         Turais fought down his urge to laugh valiantly and nodded.

         "I was roped into it, for the record," she said.

         "Of course you were," Turais said teasingly.

         "I'm telling the truth!" Catherine huffed as she shoved at Turais's shoulder gently. "Oh, jeez. Stop laughing, would you?"

         "I... I promise," Turais gave her a mock salute while his lips twisted.

         Catherine gave Turais a warning glare before she allowed herself a small smile.

         "Anyway, where are you headed?" Turais asked. "There isn't much time."

         "Well, I'm only making one stop," Catherine smiled as she saw Turais's questioning look. She whispered, "I heard about the haunted shack near Hogsmeade and I'm checking it out."

         "By yourself?" Turais asked. "Aren't you scared?"

         "Why? Don't think I can protect myself from some urban myths?" Catherine said and crossed her arms defiantly, as though challenging Turais to argue against her.

         "Oh, that was not my intention," Turais said hurriedly.

         Catherine's frown turned into an amused snort. "I'm just messing around - ack! -" she hopped on the spot and rubbed her arm gingerly. "What was that for?!"

         Turais gave her his most innocent look. "What?"

         "That Stinging Hex," Catherine said as she smacked him on the shoulder again. "Don't 'what' me, I knew you did it."

         "Oh, that," Turais said cheekily. "I was just testing to see if you could properly defend yourself from some urban myths. But with what I just saw? I'd say, unlikely, " Turais returned. Catherine looked mightily offended before her gasp turned into a hearty laugh.

         "You are infuriating!" Catherine smacked him on the shoulder.

         "Turais Infuriating Black -" Turais said with a deep bow, "- at your service..."

         "Oh, shut up!" Catherine exclaimed as she gave Turais a shove that caused him to stumble slightly. "You cheeky little brat. So... are you interested in joining me?"

         "Need the company to boost your confidence?" Turais asked.

         "No, I just thought you needed it," Catherine returned. "Since apparently all Ravenclaws are swotty, all Slytherins must be scaredy-cats."

         Turais allowed this illogical argument to slide as they continued to chat amiably. In what seemed like an instant, they arrived at the vantage point that overlooked the moor and the Shrieking Shack. Interestingly enough, Turais did not remember encountering anyone, students or locals, on their way. But perhaps he was just not paying attention.

         The Shrieking Shack was clearly not as popular when it was actively “haunting” the locals. Soon enough, he found himself looking out over the moor. In the far hazy distance stood the shadow of a crooked and slightly leaning structure. It was also the temporary sanctuary of Remus Lupin once every full moon... for now...

         "I don't understand what is the big fuss about the shack," Catherine commented. “All my friends were scared to come here with me.”

         "It's haunted," Turais replied simply.

         "Sure. But there's nothing scary about a haunted place as long as you don't disturb it," Catherine said.

         "No, there's not."

         "I mean, I find the real world much scarier. This shack is just minding its own business... maybe screaming in frustration once in a while, if the rumours are to be believed. But it hasn't harmed anyone."

         "That's very true. The darkness of man's heart is worse than the most disturbed spirit. When has a ghost ever hurt us unprovoked? A man, however, can do terrible, terrible things to many without reason..." Turais turned to see Catherine looking out into the distance. Her expression looked heavy. "Have something weighing on your mind?"

         "Who doesn’t these days?" Catherine sighed. "I just want this year to be over and for the next one to start..."

         "What makes you think that next year would bring better news?" Turais asked.

         "I don't," Catherine said. "But we must look forward, don't we? We can't change the past, but we can change the present and the future."

         Turais looked beside him and saw the determined and strong person that the girl represented. Admiration filled his mind. Perhaps, there was something else as well, but that did not matter.

         "Cheers to that," Turais said as Catherine smiled.

         "Speaking of cheers, do we have time for one quick stop for Butterbeer?" Catherine asked.

         Turais suddenly realized he had not paid attention to the time at all. After a quick glance at his watch, he gasped, "It's half-past three!"

         "Are you sure?!" Catherine asked incredulously as she sidled up to Turais and looked for confirmation. "Curfew is in half an hour!" Just as Turais was entertaining the idea of sneaking back to Hogwarts using the secret path in the Honeydukes's cellar, Catherine said, "I know a shortcut that should only take us twenty minutes."

         "You do?"

         "Yes," Catherine said. "Follow me."

         He followed her to the outskirt of Hogsmeade. But rather than going through the village, she led him down a less-traveled path on the right.

         Amongst the dense, snow-decorated foilage, the narrow pathway that barely fit two persons walking shoulder-to-shoulder gradually widened up into the width of a sidewalk. Then, suddenly, Turais found himself walking down a broad boulevard of giant sequoias that stood silently in the near distance with its mere existence whispering in a soft-toned voice about patience and endurance.

         "I've never noticed this before," Turais gasped.

         "Well, I found out about this once when I was running late," Catherine said.

          As they strolled through, it was as if they entered an archaeic primaeval space from a bygone era. 

         "It is stunning," Catherine said breathlessly. "I can never get tired of looking at this."

         Turais turned his gaze to the girl and saw her face glow effortlessly under the honeyed sheen from the filtered afternoon sun. There was a singular thought that occupied his mind: Which was more stunning, the environment or -

          It was as if the world slowed to a standstill to allow Turais to appreciate the perfect moment. Without the rustling of leaves nor the slightest breeze, the forest glade looked like a still portrait painted in umber-brown and muted green. Huge roots spread-eagled the ground, twisting like the great backs of sea dinosaurs. The leaves were thick and lush, forming an arch of fairytale-wreath overhead. 

         Catherine was looking at him motionlessly as if she was also frozen in the moment and Turais felt lost in those dazzling blues eyes... 

         But then it seemed as though the world resumed its forward-motion. Turais tore his gaze and mind away from the moment forcefully, reminding himself of how all of this was problematic. Turais was here to safeguard the future. He was not here to have personal relationships or search for romantic love. Therefore, he focused on listening to the crystalline snow that crunched melodiously beneath his boots, hoping that the cold could somehow quell the rebellious heat on his cheeks.

         Perhaps sensing the change of mood, they walked the rest of the path in silence until they finally reached the boundary of Hogwarts. There, Professor McGonagall was standing guard as a half-dozen students waited to be admitted.

         "Ms Shafiq, Mr Black - the two students I'd never thought would be late," McGonagall commented as she tapped her wand on her clipboard. "I'll let you both off with a warning. Next time, do not leave for Hogsmeade if you cannot return on time."

         The two students shared a secret grin before murmuring their apologies and thanks. Then, they continued to trudge along the empty path; both with a small smile on their face.

         And soon, too soon perhaps, they reached the end of their shared journey.

         "Well... that was fun," Catherine said softly as she raised her hand for a shake. With a wink, she added, “And thanks for making me lose McGonagall’s favour.”

         "Likewise," Turais grinned as he shook her hand firmly. “It was fun.”

         "Well... I guess I will see you around then," Catherine said as she started to walk away backwards, waving. Then, she rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

         "Bye..." Turais sighed out loud before he caught himself. He looked around in panic only to realize that no one heard him, fortunately.

 

***

 

         It was yet another tumultuous Wizengamot session as Turais sat beside Malfoy as they eyed the verbal sparring between Lords while Lord Travers looked bored sitting at his seat. He turned his attention to the other Chief Warlock nominees. Mr Minchum, as per his usual self, had his spectacles on and his nose buried deep in a heavy tome in front of him. Lord Fawley, the vocal leader of the Light alliance sitting on the right, was currently talking animatedly with his peers. Lord Selwyn, Arcturus’s nominee for their alliance, was nodding his head as he listened to his neighbour. Finally, he observed Lord Malfoy conversing with Lord Travers, presumably hatching another nefarious scheme to frustrate their political opponents.

         He saw a greatly divided chamber, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

         A clerk made her way to Lord Travers, who waved her off. He made his way back to the seat in the centre of the chamber and started the meeting. Turais immediately focused his attention on Fleamont, hoping that nothing terrible was about to befall him.

         "Lord Travers, please initiate the election process," one of the Lords said.

         "Request considered and denied," Lord Travers said lazily.

         "You must be the one behind the death threats!" another person shouted as he pointed an accusing finger at Lord Malfoy.

         "I will say this one last time," Lord Malfoy said as he stood up. "I am not  behind the death threats. I do not know of them and these rumours are unconfirmed. Please refrain from spreading falsehoods inside this chamber." 

         The chamber descended into chaos as Lord Travers barely contained the rage. "Yes, Lord Fawley. The floor is yours."

          Alongside the rest of the chamber, Turais turned his attention to the rising Lord. However, Turais merely caught a glimpse of the man when he suddenly felt a lurch in his stomach as his vision darkened briefly. He was just able to grip the side of his seat to steady himself as his heart pounded in his ears. Images of the Ministry, the Wizengamot chamber, cries, and shouts filled his senses when suddenly... everything cleared up again as Turais found himself in the same chamber that was in absolute silence as they anticipated Lord Fawley's speech.

         "Lord Travers, I sincerely hope you will repent from the weeks of obstruction that you have conducted until today. It has severely undermined the authority and image of the Wizengamot in the eyes of the public. Our people want a functioning government, not a crippled one. Furthermore, the imminent passage of the amendment on the election rules for the Bill Appropriations Meeting enjoys the support of all members in this chamber except for a small renegade minority," Lord Fawley said to loud boos from the left. "I wish the Lords in the chamber would... would disregard the boisterous and ineffective chun... chuntering from the opposite side of the chamber and..."

         "And... and..." Lord Fawley cleared his throat noisily and reached for his flask, taking several big gulps as if to purge his mouth of some weird taste, "...and this is... is..." His voice turned breathier as he reached for the glass again. But this time, he fumbled and the flask tipped onto the carpeted floor. The man stumbled, his breath became laboured, and his face started to flush with redness and beads of sweat.

         "Maybe you should take a seat, Lord Fawley," Lord Travers said coolly while the Malfoy section jeered.

         Then, Lord Fawley made a choked sound and reached for his throat in a desperate attempt to tear off his tie just as his neighbours jumped up with horror in their faces. There were shouts as Lords started to congregate into the front bench while Fawley fell backwards into his seat and out of sight. Everyone stood up in confusion.

         "ORDER! ORRRRDER!" Lord Travers shouted in an attempt to be heard. "Everyone must remain seated!"

         However, his warning drowned in the sea of growing chaos as people started to shout for water, help, and aid. Turais jumped over the table, pushed his way through the throng of Lords, and found the Lord convulsing against the ground. His eyes were wide with terror as tears and spit streamed messily down his cheek. Turais knelt down in front of him as the man clawed and gripped at his robe desperately.

         "He's going into anaphylactic shock!" Turais shouted as he trained his wand on the man's robes and started to cut the clothing loose. "Is he allergic to something?"

         "Y...yes," someone said above him. "Alihotsy -"

         "Accio Suprarenal Extract of Sheep!" Turais shouted. But nothing flew into his palm. He tried again to no avail.

         "He should have a Suprarenal Extract of Sheep on him!" Turais rummaged Fawley's robes as the man choked in every draw of oxygen greedily but also with increasing difficulty. His lips were steadily turning blue. "Everyone start looking! Give it to me now or he will die!" Turais turned back to Fawley and patted on his steely grip that was still holding onto his robe tightly. He said calmly, "Lord Fawley, you will be alright..."

         There was a mad flurry of activity around Turais as people poured out the contents in bags, robes, and any possession. Meanwhile, Turais continued to monitor the man's fading breath. His eyes were now rolled up and showing only the whites of his eyes. "I need it now!"

         "Here," someone handed him a flask. Turais took it and pulled the cork to sniff the content. Then he wedged open the unconscious man's mouth and tipped the flask only to see that nothing was being poured out.

         "There's nothing in here!" Turais shouted as he turned around and observed the scared faces.

         It was then that he realized that Fawley's grip on his robe had slackened. Turais breathed in deeply as he turned to face the still figure lying on the floor.

         Hector Fawley was dead.

Notes:

*Suprarenal Extract of Sheep = Epinephrine (Epi-Pen)
Fun fact, most epinephrine used in pharmaceutical products are harvested from sheep.

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-07-11

Chapter 41: The Ghosts of Our Past (revised)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

THE GHOSTS OF OUR PAST


 

 

         Everything became a blur afterwards as Turais was puppeteered by the Wizengamot guards to the Auror Offices. Then, he was trapped in a windowless room with a pair of Aurors and an army of lawyers as he faced a grueling statement-recording session that seemed like an interrogation at points.

         After what seemed like an eternity surrounded by stony faces, stale air, and paper cups filled with cold tea, Turais was finally released from his confinement. As Turais walked by the entrance to the office, it triggered a cascade of flashing lightbulbs from the preying reporters looking for the latest scoop. He reached the waiting room where a group of Lords from both Light and Dark families sitting in the waiting room. However, Lords associated with Malfoy's alliance were noticeably absent.

         "Our candidate of choice was murdered. They must restart the election process."

         "We agree. However, this matter is not for you or I to decide," Turais could hear Xavier Steward say. "That power lies with Lord Travers."

         "This is preposterous."

         "It would be prudent to remind ourselves who were the culprits," Lord Steward said coolly. "You eliminated all the checks on the Chief Warlock's power in committees because you held the positions and wanted to eliminate all opposition. Now, you find yourself on the opposing side, surrounded by useless tools broken by your year-old decrees. This bitter fruit bore from the seeds of arrogance and utter lack of foresight that you had sown. It would not have been possible for our government to be held hostage by one person otherwise."

         Turais could feel like anger flare up up at the political talk. A man just died! Right in front of his eyes! And all everyone seemed to care about was that stupid election.

         "This talk is not conducive with formulating a solution to the current situation," Fleamont said.

         "What do you propose we do? Talk? All we have been doing for the past month was talk. I believe we have done enough talking -"

         "Turais?"

         He turned around and saw Orion's tired appearance. He also observed the exact moment when the dark clouds lifted from his face and lit up in happiness and relief.

         "They didn't treat you poorly, did they?" Orion said as knelt down and held his cheeks.

         "They won't dare," Turais smiled tiredly and gestured at the stern-looking men and women behind him. "Especially not with them in the room."

         "That's what they were paid to do," Arcturus's stern voice said. It seemed Orion's call had notified the Lords of his presence as they watched on with unrestrained interest. "And they better deliver their services as promised." 

         "Of course, Lord Black," one of the barristers said. "Your son was invited here to help with the investigation. The Aurors have no grounds to detain or mistreat him. However, there was potential that your Heir was placed under unnecessary stress prior to our arrival. We can look further into the case to see whether they had violated any -"

         "Lord Black, your grandson is free to leave." Charlus said as he approached the crowd. "And please rest assured that we did not mistreat your Heir in any way."

         "That remains to be seen," Arcturus said coldly. He addressed the barrister once more, "You have my permission. Do not leave any stones un-turned."

         "That is unnecess-"

         "You have determined that an intrusive probing of my Heir's involvement was necessary. Now it is up to us to determine whether the pursuit of that course of action was warranted," Arcturus said. "We need a private room for discussion."

         Charlus flitted his eyes towards Turais, who tried to send an apology through his expression.

         "That is a reasonable demand that is well within my client's rights," the lawyer said curtly. "Especially after hours of -"

         "It was only two hours -"

         "Hence, I used the plural form of 'hour', Deputy Head Auror."

         Charlus blinked at her words for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Follow me."

         Once the door closed behind the three Blacks, Arcturus thundered.

         "When there is a fire, you run away from it, not towards it!"

         The objects around the room seemingly quaked under his wrath, but a Turais stood his ground.

         "What if you were trapped in the fire?!" Turais countered. Then, he gestured at Orion, who instinctively shrunk his shoulders a little. "Or how about father?!" 

         Arcturus's nostrils flared as he crowded Turais's space. "Even if the entire family is trapped in that inferno, you keep yourself safe. You are the Heir and our family's future. None of this matters if there's no one to safeguard our legacy. Now, go back to Hogwarts and stay there."

         "But -"

         "I'm sure Turais understands the severity of this situation," Orion interrupted as he gave Turais a silencing stare. "He will stay far away from here until the case resolved."

         "Perhaps even beyond that," Arcturus said. "This situation is becoming more complicated than I imagined. Although I cannot deny the fact that Hector's passing will lift our chances in the election."

         The embers of Turais's annoyance flared up once again. But the sudden pressure on his shoulder from Orion's hand suppressed it.

         "Turais must be tired after this. Let me see him back to Hogwarts first."

         Arcturus looked at Turais sternly, "Stay out of trouble. I don't need to see our family's name splattered across the front pages."

         He wanted to argue more when Orion's fingers dug into Turais's shoulder warningly.

         "Yes, grandfather," Turais gritted out.

 

***

 

         After returning to Hogwarts, Turais immediately turned into an empty classroom. After locking the door and casting all the Privacy charms in his repertoire, he seated himself in the middle of the room. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his magical core and reached for the Hallow.

         Something small dropped into the palm of Turais's hand. With a singular focus of the target in his mind, he turned the stone thrice in his hand.

         However, instead of the person he wished to see, he felt Death's presence instead.

         ‘Young Master, you wished to use the Resurrection Stone to summon Hector Fawley.’

         "Yes," Turais breathed. 

         ‘That would not be possible, young Master, as the Stone can only be used to summon those whom you've formed an emotional connection with.’

         Disappointed and deeply frustrated, Turais vanished the Stone from existence. Death faded out of his consciousness and Turais returned to a common room that was empty except for two boys sitting in front of the fireplace. Jonty and Alex, in their pyjamas and thin sleeping robes, were dozing off on the couches by the fireplace with their heads lolled slightly on their sides.

         Turais watched quietly as the warm glow flickered gently on Alex's serene expression. And his heart started to throb. He was about to ruin that boy's night, and possibly many more in the near future.

         Perhaps sensing the intruder, Jonty's eyes blinked open. Rubbing his eyes, he noticed Turias and alerted Alex, who startled awake. Alex jolted up and broke into relieved smile. But Turais quickly averted his gaze, unable to face the impending devastation that would destroy that innocent smile.

         "Turais," Alex said. "How was today?"

         Turais found himself unable to talk. Suddenly, the horror of witnessing Hector Fawley's death paled in comparison to what he was experiencing this moment.

          He swallowed thickly.

         Amidst the silence, Jonty asked with a hint of uncertainty and fear, "Did everything go well? There was no funny... business at the Wizengamot, right...?"

         "Alex, can you come with me?" Turais said quietly. "There is... something I need to tell you... something that you should hear from me first... in private."

         Jonty furrowed his brows in confusion. Then, the moment of sudden realization as he shot Alex a horrified look. He gasped loudly, eyes wide with horror and shock, and covered his mouth with both hands to stifle his buried scream.

         Meanwhile, Alex just stood there silently with his eyes closed. He looked serene, but in an unnerving and chilling way.

         "Jonty," Turais said hastily. "I promise to explain later, but can you let me speak to Alex in private, please?"

         Jonty nodded and he stumbled backwards while his eyes darted quickly between him and Alex. With the click from the closed door, Turais approached Alex carefully, afraid that any sudden movement would startle him. It was then he noticed Alex's hands were clamped into tight fists as nails dug into his palms.

         "Alex," Turais whispered as he placed a hand on his forearm gently. Alex opened his eyes and took in a shuddering breath. Wordlessly, Turais guided the boy onto the couch as they sat down.

         "What is it, Turais?" His face was taunt with determination, but Turais could see the cracked facade of his false bravado. "Spit it out."

         "Alex... your cousin, Lord Hector Fawley, he... he's -"

         "He's dead, isn't he?" Alex whispered as he looked down at his tightly-knit fingers. The knuckles were white with tension. At the heavy silence in response, Alex closed his eyes again. Then, he nodded to himself as his body started to thrum. Turais reached his arm around Alex but it was brushed away. "I'm okay, Turais. I'm okay. I really am."

         "Alex... you don't need to..."

         "I'm fine," Alex snapped as he stood up. "You don't need to coddle me."

         "Alex, I -"

         "I barely know him, Turais!" Alex shouted, his eyes flashing with tears. "I've never met him in person. He's more a stranger to me than... than... family."

         The pained whisper on the final word made Turais speechless.

         Alex breathed heavily before he continued with a strained voice, "I hate to say this, but his death is really the same as any other nameless stranger in my life."

         "Alex -" Turais reached out for the boy. But Alex put up a hand to stop his advance. 

         "I'm alright," Alex said with his face turned away. "I... I just need a moment... to... to collect my thoughts."

         "But Alex -"

         However, the boy ignored him and darted towards the entrance of the common room with an arm across his face.

         The dormitory door opened once more as Jonty reappeared. "Aren't you going to chase after him?"

         "I don't know if I should give him some space or..."

         "Of course not!" Jonty said incredulously. "He needs someone with him right now!"

         Turais nodded and ran after Alex, but then he realized that Jonty was not behind him. Instead, he was rooted by the couches with a sadness in his eyes.

         "Aren't you coming?"

         "No," Jonty said softly. "I think you should go alone."

         "What do you mean?"

         "He... well, you two are closer than he is with me -"

         "Jonty..."

          "That's just a fact," Jonty shrugged at Turias's meager protest. "I don't want him to feel uncomfortable..." Then, he took off his outer robe and handed it to Turais, "It's cold out. Stay out of trouble and please make sure he's safe."

         "I will," Turais said. "And... thank you."

         Jonty gave Turais a sad smile before saying, "Go."

 

***

 

         Turais tailed Alex and watched him wander aimlessly in the dark hallways. Finally, they made their way to the top of the Astronomy Tower. On the circular platform that overlooked the school grounds, he saw Alex huddled by one of the stone columns under the moonless skies.

         "Alex?" Turais whispered. "It's me, Turais."

         There was no response. Turais made his approach slowly, afraid of startling the boy. 

         "Alex, please talk to me."

         "I'm fine, Turais. Go back."

         Turais reached the boy and covered his thin silk pyjamas with the outer cloak he carried. "You're going to freeze and fall ill."

         The boy didn't respond except for the tiny tug of the cloak over his shoulder. Turais elected to sit down beside the boy silently.

         "I don't want to talk about it," Alex muttered as Turais turned his attention back to the boy.

         "We don't have to talk about anything. I'm just here to keep you company," Turais said softly as they settled into a loaded silence.

         After a long while, just as Turais thought Alex had fallen asleep, he heard the boy croak out, "Have you ever... ever lost someone before?"

         "I..." Turais hesitated. "I... Yes. Yes, I have."

         Alex nodded as if it confirmed something he already knew. "So that's why you can see the Thestrals pulling the carriages."

         Turais thought he hid that fact about himself quite carefully. But clearly, it did not escape Alex's attention.

         "You can see them too?"

         Alex nodded slightly. "I thought I was the only one who could see them. Until, that one time, I saw you ducking your head under its wings while Jonty got smacked right on the face."

         Turais cracked a grin as he recalled the look of utter confusion on the boy's face as he sat in a puddle of mud. He sobered up and risked a question.

         "Is that... that... why are you always a bit blue around this time of year as well?"

         Alex tensed up at the question.

         "I'm sorry," Turais said quickly as dread filled his mind. "That was a stupid question. I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries-"

         Alex merely closed his eyes and shook his head gently. Inhaling a shaky breath, Alex said, "On this day, five years ago, m... my m... mother and b... brother died."

         Turais felt his jaw slack as his eyes widened in horror as well. Those words were nothing like what he was expecting to hear.

         "I'm... I'm so sorry, Alex - I didn't mean to -"

         "Stop, Turais," Alex opened his eyes and Turais could see the tears rolling around, threatening to spill. "Don't be.... You didn't force me to share." He took another shuddering breath as he continued shakily, "Do you remember how I had a panic attack when Kaiden was almost hit by the police car?"

         Turais nodded, not daring to speak.

         "It was... It was because they died in a car accident four years ago. A drunk driver rammed his truck into the side of our car," Alex said as tears started to leak from his eyes, "The side my mother and brother were on... while I... my magic somehow teleported me out of the car and onto the sidewalk..."

         Tears were streaming down Alex's face now as Turais shuffled close to the boy and let him lean onto his shoulder.

         "I watched as the car exploded... They died in front of my eyes... and I did nothing... " Alex said thickly. "No, I saved myself and abandoned them... Why did I save myself?! And why did they leave me behind...?"

         Alex sobbed into Turais's robe as he continued to mutter incoherently. His cries stabbed into Turais's heart like icy swords. He recalled the visceral pain he felt when he saw the corpses of Remus, Tonks, Fred, Dobby... He recalled his childhood wondering what it would be like to have known his parents... And now he imagined how much worse that pain was for Alex - for a nine-year-old boy to learn to love his family only for him to lose them in a tragic accident and then to only discover that he might have been able to save them if only he knew how to...

         "It's not your fault," Turais said, holding the shaking boy tightly. "It's your accidental magic. You had no control over it."

         "But I should have!" The words ripped coarsely from Alex's throat. "I'm a wizard. I should be able to stop the truck... or I should have died trying! I should be able to save their lives! Why is all my family dying and leaving me behind? I just want them with me. I just want them to be safe... and maybe have dinner with me... or play games with me... why can't I have that?!"

         Turais had no answer. After so many years, these were still the same questions that haunted his dreams. Why did he have to suffer through all the pain and agony? He just wanted to be an ordinary boy, with a family he loved that loved him back...

         And that pain and agony he felt for people he barely knew was almost unbearable at times, he could not imagine what it would be for someone like Alex, who knew his family for years before one irreversible mistake tore his life apart...

         "Some days... Some days I just wish that I never knew I had magic," Alex said in garbled words that were mixed with tears, "If I didn't have magic, I might not have survived the car crash... then I would be with my family somewhere up there and not be so alone..."

         Turais wrapped his arms around Alex ever tighter in a useless attempt to shield the boy from the cruelty and heartbreaks of the past.

         "You're not alone, Alex."

         "But it always felt like this," Alex sniffed as he wiped his nose. "A... After the... accident, they placed me in an o... orphanage. It was horrible... horrible... but a day later, some Ministry officials showed up and told me... for the first time... that I was a w...wizard... and that I had a father. And that he had custody of me. I... I didn't even know who my father was or that I had a father. Mother never mentioned him and I've never met him, so I always thought he was dead. I didn’t even know I was a wizard until then," Alex laughed bitterly.

         "When they took me to Fawley House, I thought I would finally get to know my father. However, he always locked himself away. I never saw him in the one year I was there before coming to Hogwarts. In fact… you were the only other person that I talked to besides the house-elf for a whole year..." Alex looked at Turais with devastation in his eyes before he shuddered as another wave of tears and cries overwhelmed the distraught boy. After many minutes, Alex's tears ran dry and his hiccups subsided. The two boys fell silent for a long, long while under the cloudless, starry heavens.

         "Olivia and Ashleigh," Alex breathed.

         Turais looked at the boy with the question clearly printed on his face.

         "Olivia," he repeated. "That was my mother's name. Ashleigh, that was my brother's."

         "They are beautiful names," Turais said.

         Alex smiled sadly, "I think so too." But then, his face crumpled again, "I really miss them..."

         "I understand..." Turais said, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks as well. "... more than you might think. But you know what... they will always be with you..." Turais patted his chest, "... in here."

         "It doesn't feel that way most days..."

         "It's hard," Turais acknowledged. "Some days, you feel your heart is being stabbed by a thousand swords. Other days, you can almost forget it. But then, there are days when the pain comes back as if no time has ever passed."

         Alex nodded at the answer. "But... how... how do you manage?"

         Turais smiled, reminding himself of Ron and Hermione and Hagrid and Ginny and all his friends. "That is what friends are for. They might not be related to you by blood, but with mutual care, support... and unconditional love... they can be as much of a family to you as your true family."

         "Really?" Alex asked hopefully.

         Turais nodded firmly. They fell into a companionable silence as the stars twinkled above their heads.

Notes:

I planned out Alex’s background story since I first started this story. Hopefully, you understand Alex’s reaction to certain events in the past better with this new information.

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-07-26

Chapter 42: The Blood Moon Ascends (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Sorry for going MIA for the past month. Although time seems to stand still during the pandemic, life still goes on. I was extremely busy finishing up my work and moving (yes, during a pandemic) to start a new chapter of my life.

I will aim to update every two weeks and I will affirm my promise not to abandon this story.

With all this out of the way, I hope you enjoy the update! And once again, thank you for your patience and continual support.

- ravenclawblues 2020-08-31

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

THE BLOOD MOON ASCENDS


 

         Over the past week, the Fawley family became the sole topic of conversation amongst the students, particularly the Slytherins. While most of the attention was still on the death of Lord Hector Fawley, the week saw the rise of other peripheral topics. Those included the ascension of Howard Fawley to the family seat in the Wizengamot, Alex's supposed elevated status as the Fawley heir, and the general mystery surrounding the election of the Chief Warlock.

         Turais also flaunted Arcturus’s instructions to steer clear of the Wizengamot. Well, he never claimed he was any good at following instructions.

         Therefore, here he was at the Ministry, lurking by the entrance to the Wizengamot. Because Arcturus and his allies were in the chamber and the wards on this floor disallowed anything but the simplest, harmless spells, Turais never planned to enter the chamber. Instead, he opted to observe the usual suspects from afar.

         There was, however, one peculiarity. Ten minutes before the session was about to begin, Tiberius McLaggen, in his flashy green suit, took a left turn into the Records Room rather than entering the main chamber like the rest.

         Dogged by his own suspicion, Turais stalked McLaggen and saw he entered the Records Room. Once he reached the main floor, however, McLaggen had already disappeared within the numerous stacks. Searching around, he ended up in the Potions section and found Minchum there already. The crouching man tapped his wand on several books. They flew out of the stacks and placed themselves on the cart beside the man. 

         "Mr Minchum," Turais greeted as the man looked up in surprise. 

         "Mr Black, nice to see you. I didn't expect to see you here today."

         "Why is that?"

         "Oh, I just thought Lord Black would have made his grandson stay at Hogwarts, especially given what had happened. Mr Malfoy is definitely keeping his distance."

         "What my grandfather doesn't know won't hurt him."

         Minchum arched a singular brow and didn't comment on that. "Are you searching for a book here for the Wolfsbane legislation again?"

         "Yeah," Turais lied as he looked around. "Did you see Mr McLaggen around?"

         Minchum wrinkled his brows and shook his head, "Why would he be here?"

         "I thought I saw him enter the Records Room before me," Turais smiled nonchalantly. "By the way, the session is about to start in ten minutes. Why are you still here?"

         The man drew back his sleeve and gasped at the time. "Dear me, I lost track of time. I'm glad I ran into you, Mr Black." But then, he released a heavy sigh, “Frankly, I don’t even know if it is worth going to meeting only to see it aborted minutes later. Maybe I should just focus on my readings.”

         "In either case, can I help you find all the books you need."

         "No, no. I only have one book left," Minchum said as he hastened his scan on the book spines.

         "What are you looking for?"

         "Oh, just some books on alchemy."

         "On the Philosopher's Stone?" Turais asked as he glanced up to one section of the shelf that was glaringly empty. "It seems that they have been quite popular recently due to the rumoured theft."

         Minchum laughed. "I admit I do have a fascination for the most legendary alchemical substance in the entire world, but that's not what I'm looking for specifically... Although they are related tangentially..."  Turais glanced at the cover of the top book, which read Wildfyre - Fiery Fascination and Uncontrollably Wild. Below the title was an image of neon-green flames engulfing a medieval city.

         "What is Wildfyre?" Turais asked curiously.

         "Wildfyre is a highly volatile alchemical material identifiable by the distinctive green hue in liquid form. However, the flames look just like normal fire and not green, as depicted falsely on this book," Minchum said. "When ignited, it can explode with tremendous force. The resulting fire burns so hot that water cannot extinguish it. Basically, it is the alchemical version of Fiendfyre."

         "I have never heard about this before," Turais said, fascinated.

         "And no one should," Minchum said grimly. "As I have just told you, it is a very dangerous substance if placed in the wrong hands. Therefore, the Ministry has destroyed all of the substance and banned all knowledge on creating the substance. All but one."

         Turais was afraid to ask, "Which one?"

         Minchum said darkly, "Did you know that the Philosopher's Stone can be used to create this substance?"

         "So you're suggesting that whoever stole the Philosopher's Stone might plan to use it to make Wildfyre?!" Turais said in alarm. "But why would someone do that? Isn't the Elixir of Life much more useful?"

         "You are correct. However, Master Flamel had made it clear over the centuries that he memorized the recipe for the Elixir of Life without having it written down. The recipe for Wildfyre is much easier to procure on that front," Minchum explained. "In addition, the last time there was a rumoured theft of the Philosopher's Stone was in 1666 -" Turais gasped in recognition. as Minchum nodded, "- which coincided with the Great Fire of London in 1666. Although most favoured the theory that it was caused by a Welsh Green locked in the basement of a bakery, I suspect it was because of the production of Wildfyre using the Stone. But all of this is only my suspicion, so do take it with a grain of salt."

         Turais hummed thoughtfully, "What are the characteristics of this Wildfyre?"

         "Well, Wildfyre is not only identifiable by its characteristic green colour, it is also extremely sulphuric and provides a sharp, distinct smell that is instantly recognizable for those who've encountered it before. Even the strongest Blocking Charms can only reduce its scent into a repugnant urine-bathed alleyway, which is quite noticeable..." Minchum sighed. "But Wildfyre has not been seen for three centuries so I could be overly suspicious. In addition, there are so many alleyways that stink of urine that the Aurors would be busy investigating false claims of Wildfyre everywhere."

         "It's not like they have anything better to do these days," Turais teased as he opened up the book. There were formulas, diagrams, and symbols that Turais could not understand. "Do you even understand any of this?"

         "Probably not all," Minchum admitted. "But I should understand most of it since I'm the Wizengamot representative to the Potions Association."

         "You are part of the Potions Association?!" Turais gasped.

         "Yes?"

         "No wonder you were so knowledgeable with Potions," Turais said. "Why did you not say anything?!"

         Minchum frowned at the accusation. "Uh... I thought you knew and you never asked."

         "That's fine. I was wondering if you can update me on the Wolfsbane Potion application."

         "There's really nothing to update you on," Minchum said apologetically. 

         "But why?" Turais asked. "Is there something I can do -"

         "There's nothing you can do. The Chair of the Potions Association is Lord Yaxley's nephew -" Turais winced, "- You can probably guess why he is determined to slow-walk your application to the greatest extent. I'm sorry but there is nothing I can do to help."

         "I didn't realize..." Turais said. "Do you know if Tiberius McLaggen is friendly with him?"

         "You know how well-connected McLaggen is, but I don't think he's more friendly with him than average... Actually," Minchum remembered suddenly, "I think I saw the two of them having some sort of verbal altercation... you can ask Mr Flack to confirm the news. You still have orientation sessions with him, do you not?"

         "No, those ended a month ago, but I can ask him about it. Thank you for the information."

         "You're welcome," Minchum said apologetically. "Sorry, I couldn't be much help."

         "On the contrary, you have been most helpful."

         Minchum's eyes glanced over Turais and prompted him to turn around. At the end of the aisle stood McLaggen, who looked as though he had been observing them for a while in broad view.

         "So the rumour that Black heir is a bookworm is true," McLaggen said as he walked towards them. "Harold, you are here as well, per usual."

         "Tiberius," Minchum greeted.

         "Mr McLaggen," Turais said coldly.

         McLaggen tutted. "I come as a bearer of gift, Tur... Master Turais Black -" McLaggen picked up one of the books from the cart and flipped through it casually. "I believe there is some information that may be of interest to you -"

         "What do you want in return?" Turais interrupted.

         McLaggen closed the book with a snap. He placed the book back on the cart and smiled at Turais approvingly. "Good to see you're learning, Turais. Well, this information has already been paid for by Lord Black in kind."

         "My grandfather did not mention a deal pertaining to my situation," Turais returned. He did not trust a word from that man’s mouth. "I also know for a fact that you do not have the solution that I seek."

         McLaggen's gaze hardened as it flitted towards Minchum. "Harold, my dear friend, this is not how things work around here. You are setting a dangerous precedent."

         "What I do with my information is my own business. And it isn't proper to deceive our more innocent members," Minchum said icily as McLaggen stared back menacingly. But all of a sudden, McLaggen’s scowl turned into a smile like the brilliant sun after a brief thunderstorm.

         "Of course, Harold," McLaggen said gracefully. "You are more experienced than me. I should very well be learning from your expertise. I dare not dawdle here any further lest I overstay my welcome."

         With a toss of his flamboyant, green robes, McLaggen strolled down the aisle and out of sight. Turais wanted to trail him.

         "It was nice talking to you, Mr Minchum,” Turais said. "I think I will head off now."

         "But didn't you say you needed to look for something?"

         "Oh, right," Turais said as he paused and started to search for a random book on the nearest bookshelf. "I almost forgot. Poor memory."

         "Wait until you're my age," Minchum chuckled.

         "Mr Minchum, there is no need for you to stay. I am just looking for one item."

         "Oh, it's no bother," Minchum said. "I enjoy the company, if you don't mind me intruding."

         "I don't mind at all," Turais said with a strained smile.

         After pretending to have found his desired material, they wheeled the book-filled cart back to the reading room and settled in their usual spots. McLaggen was nowhere in sight.

         "I think I will have enough reading material until the end of this month," Minchum commented as he transferred one stack of books on Wildfyre onto the table.

         "You must be a quick reader," Turais said. "This will last me until the end of this year."

         Minchum chuckled. As he turned to take another stack, Turais spotted a small torn piece of parchment fluttering down onto the floor.

         "You dropped something," Turais said as he picked up the parchment. He flipped over the blank side and found a short message.

         Turais froze.

         "Did I?" Minchum asked. Turais frowned as he looked up at Minchum, who looked slightly concerned. He wordlessly handed the slip to the older man, whose expression darkened as well. "I trust that this is not a tasteless prank on your part." 

         "I’m afraid not," Turais said.

         Minchum nodded, "I think it is time to involve the Aurors."

         "What do you mean?" Turais asked. Then, he gasped, "This is not the first time it has happened, is it?"

         Minchum shook his head as he pocketed the note that read, "You will soon become the next Lord Fawley.

 

***

 

         The deputy Head Auror's demeanour was grim as they relayed the entire situation with complete detail and precision. After a moment of silence, Charlus turned on his swivel chair to face Turais and Minchum once again, "Thank you for your help today. I just have a few more clarifying questions."

         He pulled out a second slip of parchment and placed it beside their own. It read: "Drop out or drop dead." Compared side-by-side, they were clearly the same type of inconspicuous black ink and typography.

         "So you received this first slip two weeks ago, Harold?"

         "Yes, I was packing up my belongings in the Wizengamot chamber and found it amongst my many scrolls," Minchum said. "I thought it was a petty prank by one of the other Lords and ignored it."

         "And the second slip of parchment fell out from the pile of books that you were carrying today."

         "Yes."

         "No one besides you two and Mr McLaggen touched these books since they were removed from the Records Room shelf?"

         "That is correct. Mr Black and I were together the entire time," Minchum said. "There is usually no one in the Records Room and we didn't see anyone besides Tiberius."

         "This note must be planted after your retrieval of the books and before Turais picked it up from the floor. Mr McLaggen is the key."

         "Not necessarily, Charlus," Minchum said. "Remember how I fielded the theory of Wildfyre this morning in relation to the Philosopher's Stone?"

         Charlus frowned. "You are not suggesting any of the Aurors to be implicated in this, are you?"

         "That is still more likely than Tiberius being the culprit in all this," Minchum said. "I may not like Tiberius, but while he may toe the line from time to time, he would never commit such a callous crime. I just will not believe that is the case unless I see concrete evidence."

         The two men gazed at each other wordlessly.

         Turais braved the tension, "Let's entertain that thought for a moment. If what Mr Minchum said was true, then there is a possibility that someone planted the slip amongst the books on Wildfyre for Mr Minchum to discover."

         "And Harold's studious nature is common knowledge, so it is highly likely that he would seek out the books in the Records Room immediately," Charlus finished.

         "Charlus, you don't think that anyone is going to such lengths to win the election for Chief Warlock, is it?"

         "I can't say for sure, Harold, but it seems highly likely at this point," Charlus said.

         "But I'm not the favourite to win the election for the Chief Warlock," Minchum reasoned. "If the culprit was to threaten someone, his target should be Lord Selwyn, Lord Malfoy, or even Tiberius."

         "Indeed," Charlus grimaced. "But you are not the only victim..." Turais's eyes snapped up, "... Lord Selwyn reported an identical threat. And he received his first note two weeks ago and a second one today, just like you."

         Turais's mind swirled. This political battle just took a turn from bad to worse.

         "Wait, you did not mention Lord Malfoy's name," Turais said. "Did he not receive the notes?"

         "He did not report an incident yet," Charlus corrected.

         "Of course. And are the Aurors inclined to believe he and his allies are behind this? He is the likeliest suspect based on these evidence, but we must fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen," Turais warned.

         "Are you suggesting otherwise?" Minchum asked Turais.

         "The election of the Chief Warlock was a highly publicized affair due to Lord Malfoy's obstruction on the normal proceedings of the election with the aid of Lord Travers for months. Why would he commit this crime now?"

         "He is frustrated by the lack of results of his obstruction," Minchum offered.

         "Sure, but this -" Turais tapped his index finger on the bagged evidence, " - This is an offense that can land the culprit and their associates with a one-way ticket to Azkaban. I have a hard time believing that Lord Malfoy would risk this punishment even for the Minister for Magic position, let alone the Chief Warlock."

         "I agree," Charlus said. "Lord Malfoy is too self-preserving to commit this crime himself or use his allies. He would not risk being remotely linked to it."

         "But if it is not Malfoy, then who could it be?" Minchum asked. 

         "I..." Turais faltered. He wanted to say McLaggen, or Voldemort, or someone else other than Malfoy, but he had no proof. "...I don't know."

         "That means Lord Malfoy remains the likeliest suspect, although I agree that we need to keep an open mind. If being in the Wizengamot taught me anything, it was that people are never what they seem to be," Minchum said.

         The three fell into a troubled silence.

         "I'm sorry to bring this up, but... is it possible to keep me off the record?" Turais asked. "I don't want my family to know I've involved with yet another criminal investigation."

         Charlus sighed and said, "I'll see to it, but I don't want to see you here again."

 

***

 

         "Let's head for a cup of tea together," Minchum said as headed out.

         "You shouldn't miss the meeting."

         "If the last few weeks told us anything, the meeting ended soon after it started."

         Turais agreed reluctantly. They took a silent elevator ride up to the main floor of the Ministry and into a small café. The man insisted on buying the drinks so Turais settled into a tiny table. He looked out at the bustling foot traffic beside him that was separated by a waist-high metal fence.

          Minchum returned with two levitating tea sets and a plate of scones.

         "Rooibos tea," Minchum said as he handed Turais his cup. Gentle wisps of steam rose from the cup and surrounded him with a smoky, vanilla scent that lifted his tension off his shoulders. "It's my personal favourite. Excellent choice for a late afternoon or evening tea."

         "Thank you."

         "A scone?"

         "I'm fine," Turais politely declined as Minchum placed the offering onto his own plate. 

         "Aren't you worried about the death threats?"

         "Of course I am, but I am also a former Auror. I'd like to think I can take care of my own safety," Minchum said before taking a sip. "Besides, I know that many Lords have requested additional protection since the murder of Lord Fawley, so I would rather the resources be used for those who require them. How goes your potions legislation?"

         "I'm finished. But what use is there if the Wizengamot is not open for business since the Chief Warlock is yet to be elected? In addition, I cannot propose the bill since I am only a Youth Representative. I still need to find someone who would sponsor it on my behalf. It just seems so futile..."

         Minchum hummed and they fell silent for long time, immersed in the background noise by the Atrium - the busiest district in Wizarding Britain.

         "Well... I can offer to revise and take up your bill proposal if you don't mind..." Minchum said carefully. Turais just stared as the man shifted uncomfortably. He said quickly, "I only dared to suggest that since I have some knowledge of it. You are going to be credited for it, of course. And you don't need to agree to it -"

         "No!" Turais replied immediately. "You misunderstand me. I'm just shocked that you would offer to do that. I'd love for you to help me with it. Thank you."

         Minchum gave off a shy smile as he hid behind his teacup.

         Suddenly, there were two wizards with wet hair and robes, clearly drenched, approaching past them. Minchum perked up and called out, "Cattermole, where's the fire?"

         "Bloody Atmospheric charms on level ten, that's what! Someone placed a delayed Raining Charm that sabotaged ours. I don't understand why anyone would play such a prank," the man exclaimed. "There's another call from level five. Bloody menace."

         "Level ten as in the Wizengamot?" Minchum asked in surprise. 

         "I know! There was a lot of wet and angry Lords," Cattermole grumbled. "Anyhow, see you around!"

         "Poor fella is likely going to be demoted after a gaff like this," Minchum commented as the two men darted off to another set of elevators and disappeared into the constant flow of the crowd.

         "Why is that? As he said, the saboteur should be held responsible." 

         "But the likelihood of them uncovering the culprit is minimal. Besides, you know how vengeful most of those old men are. They are embarrassed and they want someone to pay this mistake at once. He is the Head of the Magical Maintenance Department. He is the logical person to take the fall," Minchum surmised. Turais felt his pent-up frustration edging ever so closely to the limits of his control. "They are going to banish him to the netherworld if they could. It's just the reality of such matters."

         "But it shouldn't be reality," Turais pointed out. "It ought not to be. This government is an oligarchy - an aristocracy, at best, where a roomful of out-of-touch, elitist men squabble over power and small changes in vast family fortunes while the rest of society is left behind to fend for themselves. This system is ripened for a culture of corruption and nepotism where no real change can occur. The Wizengamot is currently hijacked by a small group of extremists that does not reflect the will of the populace. The Ministry, as well meaning as the Light families are, go about tackling these inequalities using the wrong methods. This is one of many reasons why we are sinking deeper and deeper into a class war, a blood purity war, a never-ending vicious cycle. Even my own grandfather -" 

        Turais caught himself before he went off a tirade against his own family. But judging by the looks that he was receiving from neighbouring tables, he might have shouted the last few words. Turais muttered a quick apology. "Sorry for the volume there. I did not mean to off-load my grievances onto you."

         Minchum considered Turais for a few more moments, calmly drinking his tea, before speaking. "You sound as if you are not from one of the most prestigious ruling families in Wizarding Britain, Mr Black."

         The emphasis on the last word rung painfully in his chest, like the chattering of iron-cast shackles chaining his body and tying him in his "rightful" place in society. And everyone he met seemed to constantly remind him of this fact, even if it was merely by addressing his presence. It was particularly trying at the Ministry where everyone seemed to recognize him and cast expectant glances towards him, leaving him suffocated and...

         Powerless.

         "I know the situation tries our patience, Mr Black, but you must not let these setbacks discourage you."

         Turais stood up abruptly. He tried to control his voice into a polite and respectful tone with a tight smile, "Thank you for the tea, Mr Minchum. I should be heading my way."

         "Mr Black," Minchum said hurriedly, "I met no disrespect."

         "And I took no offense with your words, Mr Minchum. How can one possibly take offence when you are merely speaking the truth?"

         As Turais turned to leave the table, the commanding green of McLaggen's robes caught his attention. 

         "Hello, Harold!" the man said with his normal, painted cheeriness as he leaned over the fence and looked at the duo. There were five Aurors surrounding the man, facing outwards in a protective circle as the pedestrians avoided the obstruction. "And hello to you too, Turais!"

         Then, McLaggen glanced around the tiny shop before settling on Minchum, "The Auror Offices just assigned me these people. But where are yours?"

         "I declined."

         McLaggen clicked his tongue disapprovingly. In a solemn tone, he said, "Death threats are not something to be ignored, Harold. You are a former Auror, you should know better. The enemy may pounce at any moment and you must be able to fight for your own safety."

         "I'm more worried about threats that I cannot duel against," Minchum replied.

         "Very well. And please do not give me the chance to say 'I told you so'," McLaggen said before his entire demeanour changed into a cheerful disposition. "And aren't you are getting awfully chummy with my dear friend, Turais."

         "Mr Minchum and I are casual acquaintances."

         "Good enough acquaintances to get him away from the Wizengamot chamber. Lord knows how many times I have encouraged him to step away from that cursed place only to be faced with a cold, hard rejection."

         "Mr Minchum was just kind enough to offer his company," Turais said to the impeccably dressed man, who reached for a blueberry scone and examined it.

         "And he offered, out of his own volition, to have a cup of tea with you," McLaggen sounded incredulous. He tore a piece of the food and popped it into his mouth. While nibbling at the food, he continued. "Colour me surprised... and jealous. This man shows much interest in you. I daresay he must have some nefarious designs on you."

         That soured the conversation immediately as Minchum's expression darkened. "Others might mistaken your unique brand of sarcasm, Tiberius."

         "Oops," McLaggen covered his mouth with his long, dainty fingers. He looked at Turais and said, "That was my mistake, Turais. Please do not misunderstand me, I was merely jesting -"

         McLaggen suddenly dropped the scone as his hands clutched around his throat. His eyes were bulging wide with terror as he collapsed onto the ground. 

         "Tiberius!" Minchum shouted as he jumped over the fence and knelt beside the man. Meanwhile, Turais cast a charm over the plate of scones.

         "The scones are poisoned!"

         "He is poisoned!"

         The two shouted out at once. Minchum whipped around and shouted at anyone nearby, "DOES ANYONE HERE HAVE A BEZOAR?!"

         Everyone around them was stilled with fright and staring at him hollowly. This man, no matter how obnoxious, was not going to die before him. He would not allow another avoidable death occur -

         "I have one," Turais said as he knelt down beside the man and dropped a small, brown object in between the seizing man's bluing lips and muttering, "Depulso."

         McLaggen's eyes rolled backwards as his breathing stopped. After a few torturous seconds, his chest began to rise and fall once again. This time, his laboured breath had smoothed out as well. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

         Minchum fell back and leaned his back on the metal fence as the absurdity of the situation finally hit him. "What... what just happened?"

         "I... I don't know..."

         "If you or I just took one bite of that..." Minchum's voice trailed off at the insinuation. Turais looked back at the plate of poisoned scones and felt a cold tremour travel down his spine.

 

***

         "Lord Malfoy must pay for this treachery!" Orion said as he slammed his hand on the table, ratting all the items atop it. The Aurors managed to keep their composure with only their slightly-widened eyes as an indication of surprise. Meanwhile, Arcturus sat at the corner of the room, ruminating quietly.

         "Now, Orion," Charlus said calmly as he guided the man back into his chair, "Do you happen to have any evidence supporting your accusation?" Orion scowled wordlessly as Charlus sighed, "If not, we will get started on this case. We will get to the bottom of this -"

         "Like how you did with capturing the murderers who tried to poison my son?"

         The piece of parchment in Charlus's hand crumpled noisily in the frigid silence.

         "I will come back in just a moment with the paper for your son's statement."

         Once the two Aurors left the room, Arcturus spoke again, "Orion, please see to it that our Deputy Head Auror doesn't muddle up the paperwork like everything else this Office seems to do."

         Orion looked at Turais before saying, "But father -"

         "Now."

         At the deadly tone, Orion cast a worried glance at Turais before doing as instructed.

         After the door clicked shut, Arcturus spoke again in a calm voice that seemingly plunged the room into an icy, Arctic wasteland. It was easily one of the most terrifying moments that Turais had ever experienced.

         "I know you are defiant in nature, Turais, but never in my wildest dream did I expect you to return when a Lord was murdered in cold blood."

         "I'm sorry," Turais muttered, hoping that he was able to salvage something from this wreckage.

         "I will personally write to the Headmaster suspending your travel privilege-" Turais snapped his gaze up to meet Arcturus's steely grey ones. "- to the Wizengamot until I deem appropriate -"

         "But grandfather -"

         "You will stay at Hogwarts and stay out of this until we can incriminate Malfoy for his crimes -"

         "You don't understand -" Turais shouted quickly. "- The case is not as simple as it seems, there's more to -"

         "And what do you know about investigating? Are you an Auror?" Arcturus interrupted harshly.

         "I -"

         "You will obey my orders -"

         "Grandfath-"

         "I have spoken," Arcturus hissed dangerously as Turais looked away defiantly. "And I will write Professor Slughorn to revoke your travel privilege, effective immediately."

         Turais gasped as Arcturus whipped around and left without glancing once at him.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-08-31

Chapter 43: And Then There Were Three (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

- ravenclawblues 2020-09-26

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

AND THEN THERE WERE THREE


 

         It was the morning after the attempted poisoning, or perhaps more accurately, attempted murder, of Tiberius McLaggen, and the papers had yet to arrive. Therefore, the general school population was still blissfully unaware of what had just transpired in the world beyond these castle walls.

         There was an abnormally large cluster of people congregated around the Gryffindor table. Tinkering sounds of coins were heard as students left with suspicious pouches that seemed to contain a small rock-like object.

         However, Turais was not paying much attention to it as he was focused on Malfoy. Seated beside him, Volant said something that elicited a smirk from Malfoy, who replied something in return. Then, there was a tell-tale fluttering of several dozen wings as owls descended from the ceiling, carrying various parcels and goods. Rolls of freshly-printed newspaper landed on the tables with a series of soft thuds, including one that dropped right in front of Turais’s plate of food.

         However, he did not bother to look at it as he watched Volant unroll the newspaper, glance at the title, and take a second glance in utter disbelief. Shakily, he handed off the papers to Malfoy, who went through a similar series of reactions.

         The bastard was either a very good actor faking his surprise or his reaction just confirmed Turais's suspicion. 

         By now, the entire hall was whispering fervently about the latest victim of an embittered and lethal political battle. Even his own paper was now in the hands of other Slytherins, hungrily poring over the bolded prints.

         "Poisoned again?" Jonty hissed as the group of gathered Slytherins cast a suspicious glance down the table where Malfoy was huddled with his group. "They're emboldened, aren't they? Should I be worried about this juice?"

         Jonty prodded the jug of orange-ish liquid suspiciously. There was a ripple of nervous laughter when suddenly, a collection of piercing shrieks emanated from the other side of the Hall. Turais turned around to see several Gryffindors jumping onto their seats.

         "The pumpkin juice is poisoned!" a girl screamed, in tears and pointing at a spot beside her. Professor McGonagall darted towards the epicentre of the commotion. Meanwhile, cups were dropped and retching sounds filled the room. Panic was evident.

         "I'm going to die!" someone near him shouted.

         "Eat the bezoar now!" another cried.

         "My bezoar is in my room!" another screamed in despair.

         Malfoy, to his merit, was still. But he stared into the content of his cup as his eyes flashed in fear.

         But then, the screams were quickly drowned out by a constant buzz as if they were all living inside a hive.

         "Whatz... in thezzz... bloody helzzz..." the Slytherin girl sitting near him clamped her hands on her mouth as it started buzzing as well. On her plate was a pouch similar to the ones he saw people leaving the Gryffindor table with.

         Fortunately, McGonagall's angry voice startled everyone out of the frenzy.

         "Potter! Get up!" A sheepish James emerged, pulled up roughly by a furious McGonagall at the cuff of his neck. Yellow stains were starkly visible on his white dress shirt. "Detention for one month, Mr. Potter! Faking being poisoned! I cannot believe a student from my House had - Oh what is with this buzzing sound?!"

         Malfoy's lips thinned into a tight smile, which Turais had since recognized as a mask as he tried to hide his panic, before everyone was distracted by McGonagall's reprimand of James once more as the background buzzing sound persisted.

         When the Slytherins returned to the common room, Malfoy was met with the same, if not greater, scrutiny from his peers in regards to the recent developments in the Wizengamot.

         "I'm surprised you are still showing your face, murderer," Rivers, Turais's dormmate, sniped as Malfoy walked into the room.

         Instead of letting the comment slide as usual, Malfoy tensed up and responded coldly, "Our family is innocent. We have nothing to fear."

         "Poison's a woman's weapon, and you Malfoys are no men," a fifth-year joined in as well.

         "I said," Malfoy gritted out, "We did no such thing."

         "Yeah, right," another girl said. "Your family is known for poisoning people for political gain. Guess who gains the most if Lord Fawley and McLaggen died. Your father. You may think we are all witless and stupid oafs, but we can still connect the dots here, Malfoy. Get down your high horse and fess up, liar!"

         "I will say this one final time!" Malfoy thundered as he walked towards to the girl. "We -"

         "He's trying to murder me!" the girl shrieked, pointing her finger at Malfoy accusingly. "If you find me dead, it's because he poisoned me!"

         "We are not implicated in this!" Malfoy roared as the crowd continued to frown at him. Frustrated, Malfoy spat, "The Aurors will clear my father's name. Just you watch!"

         With that, Malfoy stormed off into his room.

 

***

 

         The next day, the school posted an official memorandum about the incident three days ago. Apparently there had been a rampant bezoar-trade within the castle since Lord Fawley's death. And somehow, fake bezoars flooded the black market which culminated to the noisy climax three days ago. From the confiscated goods, Professor Slughorn had discovered that while some bezoars were indeed real, most of them were liquorice spiked with bee-mimicking potion.

         As to who the culprit was, it was anybody's guess. But of course, Turais had his eyes on a bratty, bespectacled boy with messy hair.

         On a more solemn note, the breaking news of McLaggen's poisoning did not bring much reprieve for Alex. On the contrary, the attention on him and his family only increased as speculations of the link between the two cases gained credibility. Therefore, when Hogsmeade weekend rolled around, Turais thought it was timely gift to escape all the prying gazes from both students and portraits.

         "I'm not going to Hogsmeade," Alex announced the morning of.

         "But why?"

         "I don't want to," Alex said glumly. "Now that most of the school is in Hogsmeade, I might have some peace and quiet for once."

         Therefore, Turais spent the morning watching Alex and Aigel battle on the chessboard before he decided to head to the Gryffindor tower to visit his brother. As he walked up the Grand Staircase from the dungeons, he spotted a jittery figure near the second floor landing several flights above him. Upon a closer inspection, Turais realized it was Pierricoeur.

         "Leon!" another person called out as the boy jumped, seemingly flustered. Another Ravenclaw came into view as she asked, "I thought I saw you heading to Hogsmeade?"

         "Yeah..." There was a clear quake in his voice as he tried to move around the girl. "Had a change of mind. "

         "Finding somewhere quiet to study, eh?" the girl nodded approvingly. "It is always better finish all of your homework before the holidays when your family pulls you away from it."

         "Yeah... I will see you around..."

         Pierricoeur watched as the girl continued to climb the stairs. After a few long moments, he released a heavy sigh of relief before walking into the second-floor corridor. Turais climbed up to where Pierricoeur was moments ago quickly and soundlessly. He saw the boy walking past a series of snake portraits before turning right on the next intersection.

         Turais followed. Peeking around the corner, he saw Pierricoeur looking up and down the hallway before entering a room - likely an unused classroom.

         The door closed shut with a gentle click and Turais waited patiently for a minute longer before inching towards his destination. As he approached, a decipherable series of hissing caught his attention.

         “There’s… a boy here again.”

         There was a noticeable accent, unlike the snakes he had encountered before. Turais glanced up and saw a large, white boa-constrictor coiled around a large branch in a jungle setting in its painting. It stared curiously at the boy and the other snakes were doing the same. 

         “No, he is… not the s...ame boy,” the king cobra in the desert portrait next to it hissed back. “That boy has… brown hair… his... is... black.”

         Unsure what they meant, Turais took a plunge and hissed in Parseltongue, “Hello s...nakes…, who is... the boy you s...peak of?”

         The snakes snapped their attention at the boy, uncoiling themselves with great interest in their slitted eyes.

         “This… boy s...peaks…, the firs...t one in a long time…”

         “Yes… I s...peak, but would you be s...o kind as… to ans...wer my ques...tion? What did the other boy do?”

         “The other boy enters… the room and does… not leave until the next morning, every day without fail,” the boa constrictor revealed. 

         The snake pointed with its tail directly behind him, which was the door Pierricoeur disappeared into barely a minute ago. Carefully, he opened it, however, all he found was an abandoned classroom. Mellow light spilling through the windows and cast a narrow glow below the ledge on the faint, dust-covered border of snake engravings, making them look as those they were slowly moving.

         Other than that, it was just a normal abandoned classroom in the dark.

         “There’s… nothing in the room, young human?” the boa constrictor hissed as it perked up at Turais's return.

         “Nothing,” Turais stated.

         “S...trange,” a rattlesnake on the constrictor’s right spoke as it uncoiled from its resting position.

         Suddenly, there were a series of hurried footsteps that interrupted his thoughts. They echoed louder and louder, as if they were running towards him -

         "Oomphf!" 

         Something crashed into his chest as he fell backwards onto the floor. A split second later, two large masses fell onto him and punched the air out of his lungs. Quiet groans of pain sounded in front of him. He looked up to find Sirius and James sprawled on top of him, some parts visible and others not. 

         "Sorry..." Sirius muttered as he tried to get up.

         "Sirius! James!" Turais hissed as the boys snapped their eyes up at him. "What are you two doing?"

         "Oh, it's just Turais!" James gasped in delight as he leapt onto his feet and patted his hands.

         "How fortunate," Turais said dryly. "I haven't seen much of you two lately. What have you been up to? Selling fake bezoars?"

         James beamed gleefully, looking mightily proud. "That was good, wasn't it?! I knew you'd appreciate this! And mind you, it's actually bee-zoar, not bezoar. See what we did there, bee-zoar. It was all Sirius's idea. Also..."

         As James spoke more animatedly, Sirius looked more and more uncomfortable. It was as if he wished to be anywhere but in Turais's presence.

         "... And people's reactions were so much better than what we hoped for! But those are not even the best part. You know what is? We got away with it! And no one knew it was us -"

         "JAMES!" Turais yelled furiously as James paused and his smile frozen. "Do you two realize how insensitive you were? A person was almost killed by poison! And you made a joke out of it! Do you not see how this is not acceptable?! Also, you are going to return all the gold you made! How much did you get?"

         "A bit less than sixty Galleons..." James said as he dipped his head under Turais's intense glare.

         Turais was too angry to be impressed by the sum. "You are going to return all of them to your victims! This is fraud!"

         "We can't. We spent it all already," James muttered.

         "What?!" Turais gasped incredulously. James somehow managed to surprise him with every answer even when he anticipated it. This boy was a different creature altogether. "How did you spend it all in three days?!"

         "Well, technically it only took ten minutes..."

         "JAMES!"

         By now, James's chin was hiding in his robe as he added quickly, "We placed a large owl order under Remus's parents' names."

         "For what?!"

         "Uhm... robes, books, quills, cauldrons, phials..." Then, James looked up and met Turais's eyes when he suddenly veered off on a tangent, "Do you have any idea how expensive potion equipment are these days? A phial - two Galleons! Each! Gold scales - ten Galleons! A cauldron - Thirteen bloody Galleons! And -"

         "JAMES!" Turais yelled as James fell silent again. But then, his curiosity got the better of him as he asked tiredly, "Why, James, why were you ordering these... school supplies? Don't you have yours?"

         "Well, yeah... but they are for Remus..." James stood up a little taller with that answer.

         "For Remus?"

         "Yes," James said firmly with a determined, righteous twinkle in his eyes. "Have you seen Remus's robes, or his books, or potion equipment? They are absolutely ghastly! I've seen him stay up until the break of dawn trying to add more threads to his ripped trousers that already has thousands of them. That's why Sirius and I decided we will buy him brand-new everything while having a little fun."

         Sirius and James were a bunch of idiotic dorks, but well-meaning idiotic dorks... to a fault... which reminded him...

         "But do you two realize how insensitive you were?" Turais asked at a fraction of the volume he said it in the first time. 

         "We're sorry, Turais..." Sirius spoke for the first time as he shuffled his foot back and forth. "We know now it was insensitive. But we thought it would be fine to make a joke about bezoars because the Lord died of an allergic reaction. So a bezoar wouldn't have helped him anyway..."

         Turais frowned. "Wait... what are you talking about?"

         "Lord Fawley, of course," James piped up. "Who else?"

         "Uh... does McLaggen and poisoning ring a bell?"

         The two boys shared a questioning look with each other before they shook their heads.

         That officially took the wind out of Turais's sails.

         "I... I..." Turais wrung his arms wondering what he wanted to say. "Just... just consult me next time when you plan to do something... remotely stupid..."

         "So, you're not mad at us?" Sirius squeaked as he sneaked a peek at Turais's face.

         "I am still mad at you two," Turais said. "But less so than two minutes ago. I'm also disappointed that you two thought that exploiting people's fear and committing fraud was acceptable behaviour."

         "I'm sorry..." Sirius said as he ducked his head in shame. 

         James darted a nervous look at Sirius, and then at Turais, before he mumbled an barely-audible apology as well.

         "What you two did was wrong. And you should remedy this by turning yourselves in to Professor McGonagall -"

         "We'll get expelled for this!" James cried aloud as Sirius looked at Turais in panic.

         "Turais..." Sirius whined. 

         "You two should have thought of that before you acted then," Turais said dryly. "Take this as a lesson for not doing it next time. Now, let's start walking to the Professor's office unless you want to be brought up floatingly and tied-up with a ribbon."

         As expected, McGonagall barely batted an eyelash when she saw Turais at the door with two petulant children. During the entire recount of the story, she sat there stoically as if none of the things uttered surprised her the slightest. In fact, Turais had the feeling that the Professor was actually grudgingly  impressed by them.

         Very crossed, but impressed nonetheless.

         However, there was not really an indication for that. All he saw were her thinning lips that compressed into a line by the end of the story.

         Drawing herself to full height, she said, "Well, I daresay Mr Black is quite right. What you two did was, at worst, criminal, and at best, deceitful. And I also agree with Mr Black that it was quite insensitive and, frankly, horrifying to profit off of someone's misfortune, let alone their loss of life. But I do appreciate your sense of loyalty, however misguided your actions were by this, to a fellow housemate and friend."

         McGonagall fell silent for a moment as the three boys waited with bated breath.

         "I've come to decide..." McGonagall said as her narrow glasses focused onto the two Gryffindors, "... that you both shall serve one month of detention each. You will also pay back the gold you received from the students and issue an apology to each and every single one of them. Finally, you will write to Mr Lupin's parents explaining the situation. Am I understood?"

         "Yes..." the two boys mumbled.

         "I really do hope you do," McGonagall said as she walked around her desk to sit on her chair. "Especially you, Mr Potter. You already have three month's worth of detention from previous misdemeanours. You simply cannot afford to make more mistakes. I'm sure you do not want to enjoy your summer cleaning the dungeons alone."

         "No, professor," James muttered.

         "Now, leave my office," McGonagall said. The two first-years bowed awkwardly before they started walking to the door. Turais did the same but McGonagall stopped him. "Mr Black, please stay for a moment."

         The Professor watched the door close before she stood up immediately and walked to a chest resting at the foot of the opposite wall. She rummaged the contents for a while before walking to him with a large, heavy pouch in her hand with the contents clinking noisily. She handed it to Turais and he peered inside. Sure enough, it was a pouch full of Galleons.

         Turais looked up to McGonagall in confusion as she explained, "I will not mince my words with you about Mr Lupin's condition -" Turais's eyes widened at her words, but she continued without pause, "- and yes, Mr Lupin has informed me about your knowledge. I remain baffled as to how you could have identified his condition but that is not of importance to me. What is important is with that condition, Mr Lupin's family had suffered from extreme financial stress, resulting in suboptimal clothing and supplies provided to Mr Lupin for schooling. However, Mr Lupin has stubbornly refused to accept the gold that your brother and Mr Potter had raised for him back in October from some sort of House-wide betting pool involving you, I might add, and which I am supposedly and officially unaware of. I fear Mr Lupin's pride prevents him from accepting what he calls 'charity out of pity', which is why the gold ended up with me.

         "Now, there are sixty Galleons in here. When your brother and Mr Potter undoubtedly turns to you for aid to repay the Galleons they owe, you can, without revealing the origin of this gold, help them with their repayment. Hopefully, when Mr Lupin does accept the items, this gold will indirectly benefit him," McGonagall explained. "I am putting a lot of trust in you with this, Mr Black, but I believe this trust has been earned."

         The new information regarding Sirius and James's left Turais speechless for a moment. "I... thank you for entrusting me, Professor. I will ensure that your trust is not misplaced."

         McGonagall smiled warmly as she gave Turais a small pat on the shoulder.

         As Turais walked towards the door, McGonagall called from behind. She added, "Your brother and Mr Potter's hearts are in the right place. Don't be too hard on them. They have a lot of time to learn."

         "I'll keep that in mind," Turais said. 

         He closed the door to the office with an eased smile.

 

***

 

         Dark clouds were gathering hazardously on the far edge of the Black Lake. There was a tiny flash of light in the distance - a stray lightning perhaps - when a Bludger whizzed by Turais's ear with a loud swoosh and inches to spare.

         "Watch where you are aiming that, Corn-" Michael's voice bellowed out somewhere just as it was interrupted with a clap of thunder boomed across the land, "-foot. Utter incompetence!"

         "Cap, we -"

         "We are not ending early!" Michael roared at Harper, the fifth-year Chaser, who immediately scampered away from the scowl that made the impending storm look like a mild summer day.

         "It's not like we just started training..." Riley muttered under his breath. "There's only twenty minutes left in our book-"

         Unfortunately, those words were audible to Michael's ears as the captain glared at him viciously. 

         "What did you say?!" Riley seized as he gulped, throating bobbing. He managed to squeak out an apology before zooming away. Michael immediately turned to Turais and, with the same tetchy quality, snapped, "Throw me a fresh Bludger!"

         Turais quickly did as told.

         "Throw it at me," Michael said. As he raised his bat, a twist of pain flashed across his face. But he quickly schooled his face into a determined frown and growled again, "Are you deaf?!"

         Turais hesitated. But a second later, he secured the vibrating Bludger onto his lap before saying, "This storm doesn't look good, cap. Please reconsider ending early."

         Another clap of thunder sounded in his aid as Michael panned his scowl southward. After looking at it for a few minutes, he rolled his right shoulder and grunted out, "I will see you all next year."

         There was a collection sigh of relief as the entire team headed to the ground.

         As they entered the changing room, Turais whispered to Cornfoot casually, "Wilkins's arm is bothering him a lot more than usual."

         The Beater scrunched his nose in thought for a second before nodding, "Yeah, I've noticed that as well. Must be the weather."

         An arm suddenly draped around his shoulders as Riley's head popped up between them.

         "What are you two whispering about?" he asked with a conspiratorial grin.

         "We are just worried that cap's arm is acting up."

         The Chaser snorted. "I'm more worried about the captain himself acting up." Glancing behind him, he continued with a lowered voice. "He has been insufferable these past few weeks. Thank Merlin I will not see his face or hear his voice until next year."

         "Cheers to that, mate," Cornfoot grimaced.

         "It means a lot to hear it from you," Riley slapped the Beater on the back. "You're his second favourite person after Can-do-no-wrong Black." He stretched his arms high and sighed, "I am heading for a quick shower -"

         At that moment, Harper darted towards them as the boards creaked beneath his feet.

         "Woah, what's the rush?"

         "It's Potter," Harper hissed as a hush descende upon the four of them. They immediately panned their gaze around the room and gained comfort in the fact that the captain was not present. 

         The entire team had decided not to mention Kaiden's name in Michael's presence ever since the one time Harper did utter the name by accident. That day, the entire team suffered from a brutal six-hour training session filled with swear words and extra drills. It only ended because Professor Slughorn personally walked down to the stadium an hour after curfew to escort them back to the common room. Turais had a suspicion that Michael would have continued if he could have gotten away with it.

         "What about him?" Cornfoot asked with equal restraint.

         "He's outside the door! Right this moment!" Harper said as he pulled on his hair. "He asked me to send the word to cap."

         Riley immediately headed for his locker and declared, "On a second thought, I am going to shower when I get back to the castle."

         "Wait up," Cornfoot said as he followed after the Chaser immediately.

         Harper turned to Turais pleadingly, "Do you mind telling Wilkins? Please?"

         Turais didn't particularly want the honour of standing next to a keg-load of gunpowder as it exploded. But he relented and said, "Enjoy the holidays, Harper."

         "Thank you, Black! You're the best!" Harper gasped out. "I owe you a huge favour!"

         "Get out of here," Turais said with a light chuckle, although the boy probably didn't need the reminder as he already disappeared from his sight.

         Turais re-emerged in the Quidditch Pitch as a large droplet of icy water splattered heavily on his hair. In the distance, he could see Michael standing in front of the equipment chest. As he approached, he could also hear rough breathing as the captain seemingly struggled to place the Bludger back into its chained state.

         "Let me help," Turais said as he leaned onto the Bludger with his entire body while shifting the chains awkwardly with his two hands.

         With a final click of the lock, the Bludger stopped moving. Panting slightly, Turais turned to see Michael clutching his right arm with his left. His eyes were closed, his jaw muscles were throbbing, and his face was twisted into an expression of agony.

         He was clearly in a lot of pain.

         "Michael, are-"

         "I'm fine," the captain said, slightly out of breath, with his eyelids squeezed shut.

         "I can cast a mild Healing charm if you don't object," Turais said as he pulled out his wand.

         Despite the verbal protests that the captain tended to give for everything, Michael’s action undermined them all by tilting his body towards him, which Turais took it as consent.

         "Reparifors," Turais muttered as a shimmering, indigo glow encompassed the arm. As the light dissipated, Michael's eyes creaked open as well.

         "Thank you."

         "It's not a permanent fix," Turais warned as he tapped the wand on the chest, causing it to levitate from the ground and follow behind them as they headed back. "You will need to see a Healer for it."

         "Just an old wound," Michael said, rotating his elbow and shoulder experimentally. "Always flares up around this time of the year."

         "What happened?" 

         "It was from when I was ten. I fell to the ground and landed on this arm after being shoved off the broom by K-" Michael stopped abruptly as his expression blanked. "That was it."

         "I don't know what happened between you and him," Turais said bluntly, clearly alluding to Kaiden. "But he is waiting on the other side of this changing room and you two better hash this out."

         Michael's expression was stormy, but Turais could also see the hints of worry and fear in his eyes. It was a refreshing change from the pure anger and frustration that he seemed to personify these days.

         "Go," Turais said firmly as he gave the captain a shove. He was rewarded with a glower but Turais merely returned a stronger one in kind. "Get out there, Michael."

         As if he was a petulant child, Michael huffed before he dragged his feet towards the exit. Observing from the inside, Turais could see Kaiden pacing around in circles while he rubbed his hands nervously. At the sound of footsteps, Kaiden's head snapped towards the Slytherin. His eyes widened in joy and he began to walk towards the other boy only to remember the reality of the situation. His smile froze as his motions stilled.

         "Uh... hi," Kaiden said softly.

         Michael dipped his head and stared at his toes before whispering a pathetic "Hi".

         "How's your shoulder?"

         "It's fine."

         "Have you been massaging it?"

         "Yes."

         "Even that knot by your shoulder blade that keeps troubling you?"

         "Yes." After a moment, Michael added, "Turais helped me."

         Turais was jolted into an alarmed state by the mention of his name. But he was most certainly nowhere near Michael's back, let alone massaging it.

         "I see..." Kaiden nodded. "I still have some muscle relaxer ointment - the odour-free ones that you like... if you ran out..."

         "I... I see."

         The two of them stood in silence, metres apart, and unsure of what to do.

         "I didn't..."

         "I don't..."

         They spoke at the same time.

         "Uh... you can... ahem... you can go first..." Michael said, his voice small.

         Kaiden nodded. He swallowed and took in a deep breath before starting, "I didn't mean what I said. It was just the potions and I didn't mean any of it. Can we just forget everything?"

         "What do you mean?" Michael asked, sounding genuinely confused.

         "I mean the day the Bludger hit my head," Kaiden said quickly. "You know... whatever you heard that day isn't true."

         "What are you talking about? You didn't say anything that day..."

         "What?!" Kaiden shouted before realizing it. He lowered his voice and continued, "Then... then why were you avoiding me?"

         "I... I... was just about to apologize," Michael said. "And I was angry at myself -"

         Relief was evident on Kaiden's side as he broke into a grateful smile. 

         "Oh... that's fine!" Kaiden said eagerly. Then, in a more hesitant tone, he asked, "So... are we okay now?"

         "I guess so -"

         Michael's words were cut short as Kaiden launched himself at the other boy for a tight hug.

         Burrowing his nose into the crook of Michael's neck, Kaiden blurted out, "I missed you a lot."

         The Slytherin stood rigid before he relaxed into the hug. Slowly, he reached up his arm and reciprocated with gentle pats on Kaiden's back.

         "I'm glad you found someone you like..." Kaiden said with a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

         Michael tilted his head in confusion before realizing who Kaiden meant, "Oh... oh.. yeah... Lavinia... she... she is a nice girl... I guess..."

         "That's good," Kaiden nodded encouraging before as rested his chin back on Michael's shoulder. He embraced him tightly as his smile crumpled mere inches out of Michael's view.  "I'm really happy for you."

         "Me... me too."

         “Just... just tell me everything that goes on between you and Lavinia,” Kaiden mumbled. “I... As your best man, I need to know, right?”

         Michael fell silent for a long moment as he screwed into a pained expression.

          “I... I promise.”

 

***

 

         Just as Turais thought this tumultuous year would finally end with some Christmas festivity, any levity was pulverized when the post arrived in the morning.

         Most of the students were enjoying their final breakfast in Hogwarts of the year when newspaper descended from above. A quick unfold and scan of the headline would bring shock to anyone's face.

         "Uncle Carlisle is dead?!" Jonty shouted disbelievingly into a room where a pin-drop could be heard. The papers slipped from his slacked grip as he sat down in paralyzing shock.

         The title read 'Lord Selwyn, Nominee for Chief Warlock, Found Dead in Own Office.'

         In his stunned haziness, Turais recalled his brief encounters with the man when he was in the Wizengamot. Despite disagreeing with the man on almost every issue, he never imagined that the man would be ripped from this world so easily. As he slowly regained his bearing, he finally noticed that Jane had appeared beside Jonty, who was trapped in his own reveries.

         "I... I can't believe Uncle Carlisle is dead..." Jonty said brokenly. "He... he was always so kind... bought me the biggest presents... and... and now... he's dead? "

         Jonty looked around the table, as if any one of them could offer an adequate answer to his damning question.

         "This must be Malfoy's doing," Jonty said as his eyes darted around frantically. "Malfoy must pay for this!"

         With a heavy slam of his fists that rattled the tableware, Jonty stomped ragingly towards the blonde-haired boy.

         "Malfoy, you piece of scum!" 

         Before Jonty could land a punch, he was immobilized by a wave of wand from the grim Professor Slughorn.

         Turais looked over to Malfoy and saw a shocked, bloodless face.

         It was a look he had never seen.

         It was a look of true terror and panic.

         And it was not because of Jonty's stilled figure, but of the implications of his family's future.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2020-09-26

Chapter 44: Wax and Wane (revised)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

WAX AND WANE


 

December 17, 1971 (Friday)

 

LORD SELWYN, NOMINEE FOR CHIEF WARLOCK, FOUND DEAD IN OWN OFFICE

by Andy Smudgley

Auror Offices Classified Death As Homicidal Asphyxiation 

 

Lord Carlisle Selwyn's death on Thursday marked another horrifying chapter to the nightmarish saga revolving around the election of the Chief Warlock. Reginald Cattermole, Head of the Magical Maintenance Department, was responding to a call for a faulty Atmospheric Charm on Level Ten when he stumbled upon the scene.

"Someone complained about a Raining Charm on level ten earlier in the morning. But the request was retracted several minutes later," Cattermole said. "As there were multiple incidents around the Ministry today, I decided to fix the charms on all the other levels before checking in on level ten. But... I never imagined... if I have just decided to drop by earlier..."

With two nominees dead and a third, Mr McLaggen, incapacitated, only Lord Malfoy and Mr Minchum remains in the running for Chief Warlock.

When asked about concerns for his own safety, Mr Minchum responded fiercely, "As the only person and obstacle that remains between Lord Malfoy and the Chief Warlock position, I am more worried for Wizarding Britain. The survival of our government hangs on balance where the beating of my heart will determine whether evil shall reign. Our government should be more resilient than this. It should not be dependent on the heartbeats of a single person, but this is the new reality that Lord Malfoy and Lord Travers had unilaterally forced upon us all. They had shown the world that they are willing to do everything in their power to obstruct the normal functions of the Wizengamot. I would not be surprised if they were found to play a role in causing the death of our fallen colleagues. We cannot allow their treachery to go unpunished. We simply cannot afford it. They must be defeated resoundingly and moralistically, and until we do, I will pray for us all."

In addition, there had been increasing calls to dismantle the Pomerius Ward, established around the Wizengamot since the construction of the Ministry itself more than three centuries ago, in order to better investigate the two homicides that occurred within its boundary.

The Pomerius ward is the modern iteration of an ancient ward that could be traced back to the Roman Empire. Ancient Roman magic-users marked the boundary of the sacred city of Rome with a line known as the Pomerium where all weapons were prohibited from entering. The Pomerius ward provides a similar protection in which no offensive or Dark magic can be cast in order to ensure the safety of all Lords. However, its functionality has been called into question as of late as the use of potions and poisons, which cannot be detected by the ward, while magic used for investigation were inhibited.

"The [Pomerius] ward failed to protect those it aimed to protect. Now, its presence is severely impeding the Aurors' ability to conduct investigation within its borders. What purpose does it serve?" Mr Minchum argued. "The answer is - none!"

 

***

 

         The train ride to London was stiflingly quiet. The vacuum that filled the compartment served as a somber reminder of the loss of Jonty's infectious vivacity. The boy was staring out the window with glassy eyes, having not uttered a single word since he was released from Slughorn's Freezing Charm.

         There was a knock on the door, echoing like a blast from the train horn, causing everyone but Jonty to glance up at the two young Ravenclaw girls standing outside.

         "Uhm... we are looking for a Gerald..." one of them said quietly after sliding the door open. Her eyes darted from one face to another in rapid succession. "Uh... a Gerald Macmillan?"

         "I believe you are looking for me," Gerald replied. "How can I help you?"

         Excitement was written on both their faces.

         "Oh, we heard from a third-year that you were absolutely genius with your crystal ball reading. We were just wondering -"

         Gerald glanced at Jonty's closed-off expression before standing up abruptly.

         "Let's bring this conservation elsewhere."

         The smile on their faces faltered a little as Gerald exited the compartment, "Of course, we're so sorry for intru-"

         The door slid back to a close as the ambient rumbling of turning wheels became the sole source of sound once again for the remainder of the ride. Perhaps, it was due to Turais's inner turmoil, but the announcement of the train's arrival at King's Cross did not bring the usual sense of jubilation he was accustomed to.

         Alex darted off to the washroom, citing a sudden bout of stomachache while Sirius and James, who were seated in another compartment somewhere else, were yet to be seen. Turais alighted the train alone, only to be taken by surprise by the rare appearances of Arcturus and Jonty's father.

         "Grandfather," Turais greeted tersely as Arcturus nodded curtly in acknowledgement.

         "Well, well," a voice drawled behind them. "We have quite the crowd today."

         Turais turned to see Abraxas walking towards them with an air of ease and superiority. The throng of waiting parents around them hushed as they watched the conversation unfold.

         "Abraxas," Arcturus narrowed his eyes as Orion discreetly pulled on Turais's robe, motioning for him to get behind him.

         "Bold of you to show your face here, murderer," Lord Steward snarled.

         "An even bolder accusation on your part, Xavier," Abraxas said coolly. "I assure you that I have nothing to do with the death of our dear friends, very much like how we were not implicated with the poisoning of the Black Heir. We, too, are deeply affected by the loss of two important voices in the Wizengamot..." He turned to address Arcturus directly, eyes bearing down at him with restrained anger. “However, seeing how quickly you have seized the opportunity to plot my downfall... I do wonder whether the truth even matters...”

         Arcturus returned an indecipherable smile as Steward leered, "The death of Hector and Carlisle means that both the Light family and the Black alliance are now without our candidates for Chief Warlock. I can't fathom a universe where you would not be pleased with how everything worked out for your obstructive agenda."

         "By that thought, I'd propose that your alliance stands to gain the most."

         "How so?" Arcturus prompted gently.

         "My reputation is in tatters. Once the idiotic Aurors starts investigating me, which you had undoubtedly pushed for already, I wonder when you would remove me as Chair of the High Court and all other political positions. When will I receive the eviction owl? Next week? Tomorrow? Or perhaps, later today?" Abraxas snarled.

         "Correct me if I misunderstood you, Abraxas...” Arcturus said with a hint of amusement in his tone. “But I hope you aren't suggesting that I murdered my dearest friend and ally as well as threw away our chance at winning control of the position of Chief Warlock - which was highly probable, I might add - in order to gain the potentiality of re-shuffling the courts. I would also remind you that the children of your allies - whom are highly dangerous criminals about to be sentenced to rot and die in Azkaban - attempted to murder my Heir. If my grandson ate a single crumb of your poisoned scones that day, he will be hospitalized and comatose similar to how Mr McLaggen remains today. I would not pursue that line of argument or attempt to claim the moral high ground, if I were you.”

         Abraxas seethed in fury, "You have not seen the last of me. Enjoy your success while it lasts."

         There was a tense moment as both men locked gazes wordlessly. That moment passed soon after. With a swirl of robes, Abraxas disappeared into the parted crowd as the chattering nearby resumed. However, some were still stealing glances at them from time to time, clearly discussing what had just transpired.

         As Turais was wondering what to say, Jonty's voice sounded from behind, "Father, why are you here?"

         "Am I not allowed to receive my son who I've not seen for months?"

         "I suppose so..." Jonty trailed off. There was an awkward pause when Xavier looked at Jane, who was standing nearby and casting less-than-subtle glances at them.

         "And who is this?"

         "She is Jane... and she's my friend."

         "Oh..." Xavier's smile froze a little as he turned to Arcturus. "Is she that Muggle-born in Gryffindor?"

         "Yes," Arcturus confirmed.

         "I... I see..." Xavier's eyes darting between his son and her as if he was trying to make a connection. Then, he cleared his voice and said, "Well, we have to get going. Johnathan, say goodbye to your friends."

         Jonty muttered a quick goodbye before being ushered away. Jane also made her excuse and walked off.

         "Oh, father, you're here!" Orion's voice rang out in surprise. "I'm glad you're here to keep T-."

         "Why should I be glad?" Arcturus snapped as Orion walked up to them with Regulus in tow. "So I have more proof of your incompetence?"

         Orion clenched his jaws and didn't comment.

         "Well, I must return to the Wizengamot," Arcturus announced with a huff as he turned to leave. "Someone needs to do the hard work in this family."

         When Arcturus walked out of earshot, Orion addressed Turais with an easy grin as if he was not insulted by his own father mere seconds ago.

         "How have you been?"

         "Good, but the next two weeks will be better since you two are with me," Turais said as he drew Regulus into a big hug. Then, Alex emerged from the train as Turais exclaimed, "There you are!"

         "Sorry, I had an upset stomach," Alex said as he dragged his suitcase towards them. "So, did I miss anything?"

         Turais shared a look with Orion before saying, "No... you didn't miss much."

 

***

       

         “I guess grandfather did it," Turais said as he looked down at the headline that said, 'LORD MALFOY STEPS DOWN AS CHIEF OF HIGH COURT AMIDST INVESTIGATION; LORD STEWARD AS REPLACEMENT.' However, this was only the crown jewel in a seismic change in the political landscape within the Wizengamot. "I can foresee tomorrow's family Christmas Party to be filled with joy and jubilation."

         Harold Minchum was elected as Chief Warlock by wide margins over his sole opponent, the embattled Abraxas Malfoy. It was the strongest repudiation against Malfoy's ways if there ever was one. Malfoy’s allies also, perhaps surprising to some, voted for Harold Minchum. Turais supposed that Lord Malfoy was eagerly averting the worst possible outcome by pinning his hopes on Minchum being less antagonistic towards his alliance than some other more furious members in the Wizengamot.

         “'Through an accident of history, a little-known Auror-turned-politician waddled through the chaotic and lethal election with minimal effort and found himself occupying the most-powerful position in the Wizengamot'," Orion read aloud as he looked over Turais's shoulder. "I couldn't have said it better myself. After all the political maneuverings and calculations, a chap from nowhere emerges above the fray and manages to win it all in the end. This fight was a terrible joke with none of the hilarity."

         “I fear this is only the opening act," Turais said as Orion blew on the surface of his tea, prompting the wisps of white steam into a turbulent dance. "Nothing has been solved yet. The murderer is still at large and -"

         “- And you do not care because you will not get involved," Orion interrupted.

         “But father -"

         “For Merlin's sake, lay low for a while, Turais," Orion gritted out of his clenched jaws. "Merlin knows how, but wherever you've gone, someone died. The last thing I need is for the Aurors to drag you into their investigation as a potential criminal -" 

         A dull note reverberated throughout the house. Kreacher popped into existence by the door as Turais and Orion walked into the hallway.

         “Who's at the door?" James shouted from the floor above. Turais looked up the stairs to see Sirius's head appear beside James's. A floor higher, Regulus did the same.

         “I'll call you down if your presence is needed," Orion called back. The three boys shrugged as they went back to their business.

         The door swung open to reveal an uncomfortable blast of frigid air. Amidst the dull, grey backdrop, there was a solitary figure standing on the top stair with his hat held in front of him.

         “Mr Minchum," Turais noted with slight surprise.

         The man lips curved up into a pinched smile as his eyes flitted towards Orion nervously. “I do apologize for coming unannounced, Mr Black. I hope I am not interrupting anything of importance."

         Orion looked as if he was about to say something sarcastic in reply, so Turais spoke immediately, “Not at all. Please step out of the cold."

         Taking the invitation, the man deposited his cloak and glove with the elf. Kreacher took the articles by the tip of his gnarly fingers and glared at them as if they offended him in some way.

         “To what do we owe the pleasure?" Orion asked once they settled into their seats. Kreacher popped into the room and served tea from a precariously-held tray to the three of them. However, Mr Minchum’s tea was accompanied with a healthy dose of loathing.

         “Oh, well... where to start?" Minchum said as he placed his teacup onto the low table without taking a single sip.

          “...lood’s lack of manners...” Kreacher grumbled to himself as he popped out of existence.

         “Your election to the post of Chief Warlock, perhaps?" Orion said cooly as Turais was surprised by his father's antagonistic front.

         The tips of Minchum's ears pinked a little. “Ah, yes. I suppose you have read the papers already."

         “It is difficult to arrive earlier than the post owl."

         “You are quite right," Minchum chuckled tensely. "Without your family's support, it wouldn't have been possible. But I am most gladdened by the fact that the Wizengamot is finally open for business once again - which reminds me..." He turned to face Turais and said, "As we have discussed before, the major obstacle for your Potions Subsidy legislation was the opening of the Wizengamot. Now that this dispute has been resolved, I would like to offer you the fullest extent of support on both accounts now that I am in a position to say so. It is frankly a matter of principle and - if I dare to say - of friendship, to advance these meritorious measures."

         “I... well, thank you for your kind words," Turais said.

         “And only words they shall remain until we see quantifiable results," Orion added.

         Turais glared at his father before sending an apologetic smile at Minchum.

         Instead of being offended, Minchum nodded his head in agreement. “You are absolutely correct. Our political system is failing us without discrimination. I can only push on and hope I have the strength to implement the necessary changes to make our government more representative, more responsive, and more just."

         “And you will find me as your staunchest supporter for that vision," Turais said. "And... I was also wondering if you have any news regarding the investigation efforts into the poisonings?"

         Minchum fidgeted slightly before leaning in. He said softly, "This is, of course, off the records, but the Intelligence committee received a briefing from the Aurors last weekend and the preliminary evidence suggests powerful, incriminating leads that Lord Selywn's death was linked directly to Abraxas Malfoy and his allies. I am extremely hopeful that Wizengamot will be able to move swiftly with on removing those men from their posts once the news breaks."

         Malfoy couldn't be behind all this, surely.

         “But Lord Malfoy has nothing to gain from murdering Lord Selwyn," Turais exclaimed.

         "There is much to be gained for Lord Malfoy if he managed to dispose of or incapacitate me in some way before yesterday's election. He would be elected unopposed, and yesterday could have been a very sad day for Wizarding Britain."

         This line of reasoning was understandable for an outsider. But given what Turais knew, something still didn't sit right with him, although he couldn't exactly pinpoint what the issue was.

         “Well, I am glad I was able to chat with you both today,” Minchum announced as he stood up. “I’m afraid my presence is required elsewhere. Please send my regards to Lord Black.”

         “Of course,” Turais said. Soon after, the sound of Kreacher closing the front door was heard. Standing by the window, Turais and Orion watched Minchum waved at them as he walked past. He continued to walk along the sidewalk at a brisk pace until he reached the corner of the street.

         “This was not just a simple visit for him," Orion warned as Mr Minchum Disapparated on the spot. Across the street, Turais also saw a few flashes of camera-bulbs before the reporters Disapparated as well. “I heard he also met with several of Malfoy’s allies yesterday after he won the election.”

         Harold Minchum, a future Minister for Magic who was trying hard to break the deadlock and cobble together a working coalition that could govern its people...

         “There is a simple political calculation in this," Turais said. "He wants to cultivate a better working relationship with the Blacks and show a willingness to work with both the Light and Dark families. It makes complete sense in his position if his goal is to bridge divides and create a functional Wizengamot."

         “I do hope you are right in that reform is all he aspires to achieve and nothing more," Orion sighed as he drew the curtains shut with a wave of his hand. "But I don't trust anyone in politics and neither should you. And you are becoming too comfortable with him. You might think I am over-reacting and my worries are unwarranted, but I'll never stop ensuring your safety and well-being."

         “I can't wait until I bring someone home to meet you," Turais said dryly as Orion turned entirely rigid.

         “Are you dating?!" Orion asked harshly, clutching Turais on both shoulders and shaking him. "Who? Do I know that person? You're too young! You're only in third-year. You shouldn't be dating!"

         Turais exhaled a long sigh and shook his head exasperatedly.

 

***

 

         Turais entered the kitchen one morning to see James and Sirius mulling over an opened newspaper and snickering at something.

         “Well, aren't you around an awful lot these days?" Turais remarked. “Don't you have a family you need to spend time with?"

         “They know where to find me if they need me," James shrugged.

         "Where's Reggie?" Turais asked as both boys shrugged before turning back to their tasks. Wandering around, Turais found Regulus in his room. Knocking on the door, Regulus looked up from his book to see Turais entering.

         Turais sat down on the bed beside his brother and draped his arm around him.

         "Reggie, let's have a quick chat."

         “About what?" Regulus asked blankly, void of any emotions.

         “Well, about anything, really," Turais said patiently. "I know you must have been a bit lonely for the past several months, and I was too busy to have a proper catch-up with you yesterday. So, how are you feeling?"

         “I am fine."

         Feigning a hurt expression, Turais clutched the front of his robe and gasped, “You didn't miss me at all? I guess you didn't because I couldn't sleep the two nights before I boarded the train. I was that excited to see you!"

         “Don't be silly," Regulus grumbled as he wriggled under Turais's arm. "You're lying."

         “Okay, then let me show you how much I looooove you," Turais cooed as he leaned in dramatically while smacking his lips noisily.

         “Ewww! " Regulus wretched comedically as he struggled to get away from the older boy's grasp. Proving unsuccessful, he shrieked with a hint of laughter, "Stop it, Turais! I believe you! I believe you!"

         Turais relented and released Regulus, who immediately darted to the opposite corner of the room, panting slightly. 

         “You're really disgusting, you know," Regulus huffed, but unable to maintain the scowl as a tiny smile crept up.

         “Can't be worse than how you threw up on my face that-"

         The boy's face coloured. “You promised to never bring that up again!"

         “I was trying to prove a point -"

         “Fine! I get the point!" Regulus said as he trudged over and sat down beside Turais once again.

         “So... you look like you have something on your mind." Turais nudged Regulus with his shoulder after a few seconds of silence, "A Knut for your thoughts?"

         “I... you will say I'm stupid..." Regulus muttered.

         “When have I ever said that about you, or about anyone?" Turais asked. But then he quickly amended it, “Well, actually, I do call Siri stupid loads of time, but the barmy idiot deserves it, really. And we both know how he is literally one sandwich short of a picnic because he drops it in the mud-"

         Regulus snorted with laughter before he could contain himself and Turais cracked a grin. But Regulus quickly sobered up as his shoulders slumped. He sighed, “I... I just... you and Sirius and James... you are all funny... and I... and I... I just don't... fit in. I don't know how to be funny. I don't know what to say or what to do. The three of you just seem to get along well... and... there's just me..."

         “Oh, come here, Reggie..." Turais said as he guided Regulus into his embrace and held him there tightly. "Sirius and James are just two of the many different types of people in this whole, wide world. It's fine if you don't fit in with them. Once you arrive in Hogwarts next year, I am sure you will make friends with people that you connect with naturally."

         “But I want to be like you and Sirius," Reggie mumbled. "I don't want to be the odd person out."

         “Well, I like you just as you are, Reggie. I find Siri and James loud and annoying all the time. It’s like they can never keep quiet even with their mouths shut. But with you, I don't have that issue and I really appreciate it," Turais said. "Also, do you really want to be like them? They are like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Dum as in D-U-M-B, mind you."

         “Your jokes are terrible. As usual."

         “Well, you're the smart one here. So, you tell me." Turais poked a finger in Regulus's chest playfully. And at long last, Turais saw a genuine smile on Regulus's face.

         “So... would you care to entertain me in a game of Wizarding Chess?"

         Regulus made a face.

         “I don't want to play against you. You're the worst at Wizarding Chess!" Turais gaped as Regulus smiled cheekily and wrapped his arms around Turais. “I'm just joking, I will play against you if you want. I just don't want you to embarrass yourself..."

         “Oh, this means war..." Turais narrowed his eyes as Regulus laughed.

         And predictably, Turais lost in a miserable fashion. Twice.

         Leaving Regulus, who was in considerably higher spirits, Turais returned to his room only to find James peeking into it as if he was trying to sneak into it.

         “What are you doing?" Turais asked as the boy jumped.

         The boy turned around with a sheepish expression on his face. Scratching the side of his head, James said, “I wanted to discuss something with you, but you weren't in your room..."

         “So you decided to invite yourself into my room?" Turais asked calmly as he opened the door. Looking around the room, he didn't see anything that was obviously displaced from when he was last in the room. Perhaps, James was telling the truth.

         Perhaps.

         “Hmm?" Turais prompted the boy. "Any word from you explaining how you were trying to invade my privacy?"

         James dipped his head and shook it softly. “I'm sorry..." he mumbled faintly.

         “What did you just say?" Turais asked sharply. It wasn't because Turais was mean-spirited and pretended not to hear James's apology, but he was genuinely shocked that an apology left the boy's mouth so easily that he must have misheard.

         “I'm sorry for entering your room without your permission, Turais," James repeated, this time louder.

         Turais blinked as he tried to appreciate the moment, but the rational side of his mind started to consider the motives. Ultimately, a healthy dose of skepticism ruled the day as Turais asked, “What do you want, James?"

         James looked up and flashed Turais the toothiest, most charming grin possible.

         “So... about repaying the students..." Ah, there's the reason for James's suspiciously good behaviour around him in the past week. "... Sirius and I were just wondering if you had any spare Knuts... preferably Galleons... lying around unused?"

         “As a matter of fact, I do," Turais said as he unlocked his chest and pulled out the pouch that Professor McGonagall entrusted him. James's eyes lit up as he eyed the gold greedily. "Galleons. Sixty of them, in fact." 

         “You're the most awesomest person ever!" James exclaimed as he reached for it. But Turais brought the pouch up and dangled it out of James's reach.

         “I have conditions," Turais said as James's shoulder slumped.

         “I knew it," James pouted. "Everyone likes to make me do things... What is it this time?"

         “I want you to make friends -"

         “I can do that!" James exclaimed. "I have many friends!"

         “- with six Slytherins -"

         “That's not possible!" James shouted as he dragged his hands down his face. Turais shook the contents of the pouch as James looked up at it in despair. "I... I can give it a try... I suppose..."

         “Don't try to skirt this," Turais said wryly. "I will personally confirm the validity of every Slytherin you befriend. And if you initiate any confrontations with any of the Slytherins during this time, the offer is off the table."

         “Okay, I promise I will do it," James huffed. "Can I have the gold now?"

         “Nope," Turais said. "I will give you ten Galleons for every friend you make."

         “Oh, come on, Turais!"

         “Well, deal or no deal?"

         James's eyes darted to the pouch and back to Turais.

         “Fine, deal!"

         “The sooner you make friends, the quicker the gold will flow..." Turais quirked a grin as he placed the pouch back in its place and locked the chest shut with a tap of his wand.

         “Urgh... you Slytherins and your deal-making..." James grumbled petulantly.

         “You're none too shabby yourself..." Turais said bluntly, "...Scamming students for profit. And getting away with it. How positively Slytherin of you..."

         James flushed but fell silent, chewing on his lips as his eyes darted around.

         “Is there anything else?"

         “No..."

         "Then get out of my room, James!"

         At Turais's tone, James scrambled out of the room hastily.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

Until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2020-10-18

Chapter 45: A Ripple in Time (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

Also, please have a happy Halloween!

- ravenclawblues 2020-10-31

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

A RIPPLE IN TIME


 

January 2, 1972 (Sunday)

 

LORD MALFOY ARRESTED!

by Andy Smudgley

Currently Detained Under Suspicion of Murder and Quizzed by Aurors

 

In the early hours this morning, Aurors were seen escorting Lord Abraxas Malfoy to the Ministry for crimes related to the recent murder of Carlisle Selywn and the attempted murder of Mr Tiberius McLaggen, Mr Harold Minchum, and Mr Turais Black. The link between these poisonings and the fatal allergic episode that claimed Lord Hector Fawley's death has not been established yet.

The Auror Offices spokeswitch told our correspondent: "Enquiries are in their infancy and Aurors remain at the scene whilst investigation work is carried out. The Office is keeping an open mind as the circumstances surrounding the three poisonings are established."

According to a source within the Office who spoke on the condition of anonymity, different poisons were used in all three cases and those poisons were also found in the personal vault of Lord Malfoy's office.

In the face of such incriminating evidence, Lord Malfoy's attorney responded, saying that "[Lord Malfoy] will continue to protest his innocence. He has no knowledge as to how and why the poisons were found in his office. This is clearly a brute attempt to smear and destroy my client's reputation and we will push back against these baseless claims until our innocence is proved."

 

***

 

         After a blessed two weeks away from all the chaos, reality came crashing down onto Turais the day he was set to return to Hogwarts.

         "It seems that Lord Malfoy has been taken into custody," Orion remarked. Flipping the paper around, Turais saw the front page was essentially filled by the moving picture of a thunderous and grim Lord Malfoy escorted by Aurors from what looked like the Malfoy Manor doors. In the background, Lucius Malfoy stood by a marble column as he watched helplessly as the entire scene unfolded.

         Was this supposed to happen? Turais did not know. But the sudden and utter collapse of the Malfoys' might came as a complete surprise. Clearly, there were forces at work in the Wizengamot that Turais could not decipher. Was this part of Voldemort's plan to infiltrate the Ministry? Who were the actors and enablers of this scheme?

         So many questions yet so few answers. And this worried Turais tremendously.

         His encounter with Malfoy when he stepped aboard the Hogwarts Express only heightened his fear.

         "Black!" Malfoy shouted as he stormed past bewildered students down the corridor. A marked contrast from his usual immaculate appearance, the Malfoy he saw was disheveled and unkempt. Curious onlookers peeked their heads out of their compartments as Malfoy stopped a mere arm's length away. At the close distance, Turais could see the boy trembling with frustration. "Why did you lie to the Aurors?!" 

         "I don't know what you are talking about," Turais responded. 

         "You must have said something to the Aurors! That's the only reason my father is in a Ministry holding cell!" Malfoy yelled, all decorum long abandoned. "You spoke to them once after Lord Fawley died. You spoke to them a second time after discovering the death threats. And you spoke to them a third time after Mr McLaggen was poisoned."

         "As much as I wanted to see your father dearest behind bars for everything else he had done, I do not believe your father was responsible. In fact, I even suggested to the Aurors that he was framed for the murders even though I could have very well died ," Turais replied coolly. "So take your accusations and stuff it somewhere else."

         Malfoy stared at Turais as his jaw hung uselessly.

         "I... I don't believe you," Malfoy stammered.

         "Well, what do I have to gain from lying to you about this?" Turais retorted.

         "You're... you're just pretending to be magnanimous so... so you can continue to pretend to be a goody two-shoes."

         "Right..." Turais said blandly. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to rid the Wizengamot of your politics and ensure that my family gains a dominating role due to your absence. And instead of making sure that your family never recovers from this crisis, I decide to complicate everything by arguing for your innocence so I can present myself in a better light. Do you hear yourself, Malfoy?"

         "I..." Malfoy's eyes darted left and right as if he was overloaded by all the information "I... I..."

         Turais softened his tone as he took a step forward and placed a hand on the other boy's forearm. Malfoy flinched slightly at the touch but, to Turais's surprise, did not retract his arm. "Lucius, it has been a difficult day for you, without a shadow of a doubt. Yes, there is a lot of history between us, between our families, that divides us. But the ability to feel pain and to empathize with one another is something shared by each and every one of us, and I offer you my sincerest solicitude. None of this is your fault."

         Malfoy looked at Turais as his lips quivered. For a split moment, Turais could see the sacred boy beneath the cracked veneer of hardened callousness. But that moment was fleeting, as Malfoy swung his arm out of Turais's grip roughly.

         "Save the lofty words and crocodile tears for yourself," Malfoy sneered and stepped backwards.

         "Malfoy-"

         "You will pay for everything you have done to me. I will make sure of that!"

         Students scampered out of Malfoy's way as he walked away as Turais watched on.

 

***

 

         "Someone is looking extra smart today," Turais grinned as he crossed paths with none other than Remus. The boy was in brand-new robes and the chest behind him was undoubtedly filled with top-of-the-line equipment that James and Sirius bought under Remus's parents' names.

         Remus dipped his head shyly and scratched his head. "My parents won the second prize of a Galleon draw and they decided to surprise me with an update on my school supplies."

         "Well, someone had a Merry Christmas then."

         "I suppose," the boy glanced at the chest behind him. "But I would have rather they used the money on a holiday... They have not been out of the country ever since - well... the problem because they couldn't afford to..."

         "I'm sure you doing well in school is everything they want and need."

         Remus nodded with determination. "I will always do my best."

         "That's the spirit," Turais patted the boy's shoulder approvingly. "I will see you around then."

         "Of course, Turais," Remus said. Just as Turais was walking away, Remus called out to stop him, "Oh, Turais. I told my parents about you and they wanted to say a big thank you for everything."

         "Don't worry about it," Turais said.

         "They told me that if you ever need help, don't hesitate to ask."

         "That won't be necessary. But I will keep that in mind," Turais laughed.

         "I'm not joking around, Turais," Remus said seriously. "If you need anything at all, just say the word and I will be the first to help you."

         Turais was about to decline again before something crossed his mind. "Well, you know what? I do have something in mind..."

         "What is it?" Remus looked up eagerly.

         "I want you to keep both eyes and ears out for Sirius and James and stop them from doing anything stupid," Turais said.

         "Well..." Remus smiled sheepishly. "That's a bit difficult... is there anything else... maybe?"

         "In that case, I'll think of something else then."

         Turais waved as he continued on his way.

         "Remember to tell me!" he heard Remus shout behind him.

 

***

 

         In the next two weeks, life continued without too much upheaval. It was so mundane and uneventful that Turais was almost lulled into thinking everything was back to normal until he was reminded by the headlines every morning.

         The Aurors' investigations continued to implicate more and more Lords. Those who were closest-aligned with Malfoy's alliance were toppled from their influential positions one by one through the combined efforts of Arcturus and the Light families.

         One of them caught Turais's attention in particular.

         It was the Chair of the Potions Association - the body involved in approving all of Damocles Belby's most recent innovations including the Wolfsbane Potion. Lord Yaxley, who was previously chair of said committee, was now replaced by Harold Minchum under the recommendation of Arcturus. The recommendation was supported by everyone except for the protest votes cast by Malfoy's allies, allowing the vote to pass with a comfortable majority.

         As Chair, Minchum would have significantly more power to help Turais's vision come to life as the circumstances had become considerably more favourable in just a matter of weeks. And it also didn't take long for Minchum to send him a letter reiterating his gratitude for Arcturus's nomination and also expressing his hopefulness that the Wolfsbane Potion application would finally be given a fair and timely assessment of its merits under his watch.

         Amidst the sea of bad news from last month, Turais felt as if the winds of change were finally starting to align with his goals instead of fighting against him.

         Therefore, with considerably higher spirits, Turais arrived at Divination class only to be reminded that they were studying crystallomancy.

          Urgh. Stupid crystal ball gazing...

         Turais felt his attention slowly drift away as they reached the midway point of the class. Looking around him, he saw that everyone was gazing into the depths of the crystal balls in front of them at a wide-ranging degree of concentration. Turais would count himself as occupying the lower end of that spectrum while Gerald landed on the opposite end.

         Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he grunted, "Hey Gerald."

         There was no answer. Looking beside him, he saw Gerald staring into the orb in front of him intently. It was as if he actually saw something other than yawn-inducing white fog.

         "Gerald?" Turais asked again. "Gerald."

         Finally, Turais resorted to tapping the boy on the shoulder. Gerald jolted in his seat as he snapped his attention to Turais hastily.

         "What is it, Turais?" Gerald asked, clearly flustered.

         "Are you feeling alright?" Turais asked, concerned at the unusual behaviour.

         "Yeah, I'm fine," Gerald laughed nervously.

         "No, you're not," Turais said as he turned and looked at his partner directly. "What's the matter?"

         "I..." Gerald hesitated. Then, he looked around the circular classroom quickly before leaning in and whispering, "Swear on your magic that you are not going to tell anyone what I'm about to say." Turais frowned at the boy's urgency, but he nodded anyway. "So... Wilkins asked me to tell him about his romantic relationships and so I tried to do a little crystal ball gazing, but..."

         "But what?" 

         "But..." Gerald's throat bobbed as he scanned the perimeter again, "But... unlike everyone I've done this for before... I couldn't see anything for him. Not a single thing..."

         Turais frowned. "What do you mean?"

         "You know how when you look into the crystal ball, you see snippets - images - of futures, some of them and true and others are false?"

         "I only ever see fog - but please continue," Turais said hastily as Gerald gave him a pointed glare.

         "Well... for me, I always see some images even if they make no sense to me. But the problem is... I couldn't see anything for Wilkins. There was nothing... just a void... emptiness..."

         "Okay... so, in general... why would one's crystal ball reading be blank?"

         "Well... I hope it is because I made a mistake while reading it..."

         "But?"

         "But..." Gerald hesitated. "But... I have done this for so many people and it worked for all of them, except for him. If I'm not the problem, then... then..."

         Gerald looked quite ill with distress as Turais felt his own anxiety rising up.

         "Then what, Gerald?"

         "Then that means Wilkins will be dead soon, Turais," Gerald said in the barest whisper. "And soon as in before the next full moon."

         Upon hearing that, Turais had the sudden urge to laugh off Gerald's words as yet another fear-mongering Divinatory prediction by a less-than-amateur student. But part of him was taking Gerald's words at its value and was worrying about whether Michael's life was genuinely at risk.

         "Why are you so certain it will happen before the next full moon?"

         "You really haven't paid attention to Professor Trelawney?" Gerald hissed. "It's because crystallomancy can only be used to see futures beyond the current lunar cycle and the full moon marks the end of one."

         "So you are saying that... you didn't see anything because..."

         "Because there's nothing to see after the upcoming full moon," Gerald hissed.

         "But.. but he can't possibly die... right?" Turais whispered incredulously. "It's Hogwarts, the most well-protected place in Wizarding Britain besides Gringotts."

         "That's what I'm thinking..." Gerald said. "...And I told Wilkins as much. I told him that I must have made a mistake but it would always be wise to be cautious. But now that I think about it, I might have overreacted..."

         However, Turais's mind was still fixated on the danger. He asked, "Is there anything else we can do to prevent his potential death?"

         "Divination is always about knowing what magic wants to convey to us, and nothing more. What we do with the information is entirely up to us, I suppose," Gerald said as he eyed Turais's frown carefully. "But... I really think I just made a mistake and was a bit spooked by it... I didn't mean to make you so worried or to make such a huge deal out of it...."

         "No, no. I'm not concerned," Turais lied as he flashed Gerald a convincing smile. "I'm just... My imagination is going wild and I find myself enjoying Divination class for once. You know, this is like an... an investigation."

         Gerald rolled his eyes as he visibly relaxed. "Well, good. I think I just needed to talk this ridiculous idea out and get it off my chest. Now that I think about it, I was just overthinking. Maybe I should just tell Wilkins to ignore what I said…"

         Gerald mused as Turais pondered on his friend’s words.

 

***

 

         "Are you two applying for the summer school exchange scholarship to Castelobruxo?" Jonty whispered suddenly during a homework period.

         "What is that?" Turais said distractedly as his thoughts were still dwelling on Gerald's revelations.

         "Maybe you were too distracted by everything that has happened in the Wizengamot recently," Jonty said as he rummaged his bag and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "Here you go, all the information you need is on there. There is one opening for students entering Years 4 and 5 next year, and a second opening for students entering Years 6 and 7."

         "That's amazing," Alex gasped as he took the parchment and read it. "I will definitely apply."

         "By the way, are you two going to Hogsmeade this Sunday?"

         These words caught Turais's attention as he sat up in surprise.

         "There's a Hogsmeade Weekend this weekend?"

         "Yeah...?" Jonty confirmed with a slight frown. "It's posted on the wall, didn't you see?"

         "No," Turais replied distractedly as he dug through his bag in search of the lunar chart.

         "But what about it?" Alex asked. "Aren't we going together? Or... do you have other plans..."

         Jonty shook his head. "It's not that... but I don't think we should go this time."

         "Why not?"

         "You know... I overheard Gerald telling Wilkins that this Sunday was a dangerous day. And I have learnt to not bet against him-"

         Turais finally located the book and pulled it out, causing papers to spill onto the floor. But he didn't worry about them as he flipped through it. 

         January 31, 1972.

         Full-moon.

         "I... I need... need to find Michael," Turais said as he stood up abruptly, causing the roomful of students and Professor Slughorn to look at him questioningly.

         "Are you alright?" Alex asked while Turais waved his wand. The paper flew back into his bag as they arranged themselves into the original order. 

         "I'm fine!" Turais said brightly before walking towards the exit. "I will see you both in the common room."

         Running down to the Quidditch Pitch, he saw the Slytherin captain finishing up a conversation with Mister Williams.

         "Michael," Turais shouted as he walked up to the surprised boy. "You're not heading to Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

         "Uh... likely not. Why?"

         "Nothing!" Turais smiled. "Just curious!"

         "You ran all the way from the first-floor to here just to ask me that?" Michael asked suspiciously.

         "I... uh... how did you know where I was?"

         "I memorized all your timetables and extracurricular commitments," Michael said matter-of-factly. "In order to ensure that none of you are skirting practice."

         "I see... that's a bit scary but... brilliant," Turais said with a weak chuckle. "Might I ask why you are not going?"

         "Because talent scouts are coming to Hogwarts this Sunday weekend and all students of-age can participate."

         "Ah, I see..." So there was almost no chance that Michael would go to Hogsmeade then. No Hogsmeade meant no danger. Feeling much better, Turais relaxed when he asked the next question, "Will you consider dropping out of school if a team offered you a position?"

         "That's a difficult question. But likely not... Finishing school is a top priority, though receiving an offer would be really tempting -"

         "And Michael is not about to abandon me, are you?" Kaiden said as he popped out of nowhere and surprised them both with a tight squeeze around their shoulders. "You promised that we will finally play together on the same team instead of against each other."

         "Of course not," Michael said with a slightly strangled voice.

         "Good... or else I think I will be forced to denounce our friendship for such a betrayal," Kaiden joked. However, it seemed as if he was the only who appreciated the humour because both Michael and Turais cringed. Kaiden's grin faltered and said hastily, "It's just a joke... I was joking..."

         There was an awkward pause before Turais asked, "So, Kaiden. Are you going to the talent scouting session as well?"

         "Of course! That's why I'm here. I wanted to ask Mister Williams to see whether I can spectate so I can cheer on my best guy," Kaiden grinned.

         "Well, Mister Williams said public viewing is allowed. But entry will not be allowed after nine sharp."

         "I'll make sure to wake up at daybreak just to see you ace it all!" Kaiden declared as he looked at Michael fondly. "You are going to be the best Beater they will ever see."

         "You're exaggerating," Michael said weakly.

         "No, you're as good as they come!" Kaiden protested. "And I will not hear a word against it."

         Turais cleared his throat as he asked, "Do you mind if I come and watch as well?"

         "Of course! We can both cheer on Michael together then!" Kaiden laughed. "How great is that?!"

         "Yes, excellent," Turais said as he twisted his lips into a tight smile.

 

***

 

         Turais was on edge for the remainder of the week. Most of the time, he managed to rein in the less rational part of his mind and remind himself that nothing would come from Gerald's predictions. But with his infamously rotten luck that seemed to transcend space, time, and fate, Turais could not help but become fixated on the slightest bad news as if it marked the beginning of a dangerous descent into chaos.

         On the eve of Hogsmeade Weekend, Turais found himself unable to sleep a wink the entire night as Gerald's words ran through his head on constant repeat. Glancing at the watch on his bedside counter and reading the time, he decided to start the day early without waking his friends, who were still soundly asleep. When he arrived at the Great Hall, he saw more students than was normal at seven for a Sunday morning. In fact, most of the students were in their final year, which suggested they were all participants in the talent scouting today.

         However, Turais's anxiety flared up once again when he noticed that neither Michael nor Kaiden were present. His restlessness persisted through his quick breakfast and was slightly assuaged when he arrived at the Quidditch Pitch. There, under the first rays of the weak, winter sun, Michael and Kaiden were in their respective Slytherin and Gryffindor colours as they flew around the perimeter of the enormous wooden structure.

         Spotting him, the two captains descended onto the frost-covered field.

         "And I thought we would have the pitch all to ourselves for another fifteen minutes," Kaiden smirked as took off his flight goggles. "What brought you here? You're not planning on trying out, are you?"

         "I won't try to steal Michael's thunder," Turais smiled. "But I'm just excited to see how today goes."

         Kaiden let out a large breath as white vapour immediately began to drift skyward. "Yeah, I didn't sleep as much as I wanted to last night. And I'm not even allowed to participate in the talent scouting. Having a birthday on July 17th is bollocks..."

         "Try July 31st," Turais said wryly as Kaiden gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "So, Michael, how are you feeling today?"

         "Good," Michael said. "My shoulder is not acting up so doubly good."

         "Well, treat this as a test run and just enjoy it. You will be great," Turais said as Michael nodded with his trademark resting frown.

         After another half hour, students trickled into the Quidditch Pitch slowly but steadily. By the start time of the trial, there were about two dozen hopefuls on the field as a few early risers, such as Turais himself, watched from the stands. Soon afterward, there was a moderate group entering the Pitch. Turais recognized the four Heads of House in front of the pack followed by people wearing various outfits representing their teams in the British and Irish Quidditch League. They were the representatives who were going to assess the potential young talents today.

         Soon, the trials began as the participating students were called up one by one. Many of them were familiar faces that Turais had seen in his numerous encounters with them during training or matches.

         But Turais was only focused on the Slytherin captain, who had the rapt attention of the Gryffindor beside him as well.

         Two hours into the uneventful trial, Michael continued to wait for his turn patiently as the students were called up in alphabetical order according to their last names. Suddenly, there was a large shadow that passed over him as something was dropped onto his lap perfectly. Turais looked up to see a departing owl that was well on its return trip. Looking down, Turais noticed that it was a folded piece of parchment without an envelope or a ribbon. Unfolding it, he saw an unfamiliar scrawl that seemed to be written without the usual amount of meticulous care that he was accustomed to.

Dear Mr Black,

 

I hope this letter finds you well. 

You might have learnt the news that I have been made Chair of the Potions Association. Once I assumed my role last week, I began to review all the pending applications before this Committee and I have noticed that the Wolfsbane Potion Application was placed on hold indefinitely under the previous Chair. I have immediately ordered the Committee to resume their work on this Potion. However, we have found several issues that have arisen that we wish you can further clarify.

In order to expedite the process to the best of my ability, I would like to facilitate your participation by setting up a meeting with you at Hog's Head at noon on Sunday, January 31.

I apologize for the late notice as I was only just made aware that there is a Hogsmeade Weekend Today and an in-person meeting would be significantly easier for both parties. It would be completely understandable if you are unable to participate. However, I sincerely hope you will be able to attend as we both share the common goal of approving your monumental invention to the benefit of society. The window of opportunity is narrow and it would be unwise to tarry as the political winds could shift unfavourably. We must seize this chance before we loose it.

 

Harold Minchum

         Why did this letter come at the most inconvenient time? And why did Minchum want to talk to him instead of Damocles? And finally, why was the meeting at Hog’s Head of all places? But Minchum was right. They must capitalize on their political fortunes while it lasted.

         As Turais weighed his options whether he should stay or leave, Kaiden glanced over his shoulder at the letter and said, "The meeting is in less than an hour! Turais, you better start walking now."

         "But..." Turais scrambled for a reason that would make sense to express.

          'Because I am extremely concerned about a less-than-amateur student speculating the possible death of a student due to one wacky non-prediction and my hyper-sensitivity.'

         That excuse sounded forced even in his own mind.

         "But what?" Kaiden said. "This entire thing is a snooze-fest. I understand now why no one bothers to show up. Michael won't mind if you have important business to attend."

         "I..." Turais glanced between Kaiden and Michael. "I... alright, please keep me updated."

         "Of course," Kaiden smiled.

         Turais left the Quidditch Pitch with a conflicted mind.

         But nothing would go awry. Surely.

         He would just have to make sure he finished his business quickly.

 

***

 

         "Make sure you return on time today," McGonagall said wryly as Turais passed by the school gate.

         "I will bear that in mind, Professor," Turais said politely as he started down the winding path of Hogsmeade. Taking the shortcut that Catherine once took him, he made it to Hog's Head at record time and without encountering anyone.

         Blending seamlessly into its surroundings, Hog's Head Inn was a small and decrepit structure with windows nearly opaque due to collecting dust and rotting floorboards covered with a thick layer of mildew and sawdust. There was also a sharp, lingering stench of urine mixed with vomit in the air. However Turais wasn't sure he should attribute that particular issue to the mountain of sanitation problems of the bar as the smell disappeared once he entered the premises.

         Scanning the environment, Turais noticed several interesting characters spread out across the bar. He was certain that two of the silhouettes at the dark corner were two vampires eyeing him curiously

         "What are you doing here, boy?" a hard, gruff voice greeted him. Turais turned to see Dumbledore's electric-blue eyes gazing down upon him, but then he realized that the large, bearded man was actually Aberforth.

         "I am here to meet up with someone."

         Aberforth snorted, "You are better off not meeting 'em then. Go away, I won't serve you."

         "You have non-alcoholic drinks," Turais protested. "I will have a birch sap-"

         Aberforth whipped around and crowded Turais's space, causing him to take a small step back. The man said darkly, "Did you hear what I said? You do not belong here."

         As he walked towards the bar, Turais called out and challenged, "Is it because I'm a Black?"

         "Glad to hear you know your name, boy. Door's behind you."

         "Well, I'm staying here because I do have legitimate business," Turais said as he settled into one of the window seats. "I will have a birch sap, if you feel like providing me with one." 

         Aberforth glared at him wordlessly but Turais turned his attention to the bleak landscape outside. Unlike the clean, well-groomed shopping district of High Street, Turais was looking at the seedy part of town where abandoned warehouses stood hauntingly without a single occupant or passer-by. Even the snow seemed dirty as it was soiled by the brown and black of the overturned dirt beneath it.

         A soft thud of glass hitting the table brought Turais's attention back inside the bar as he saw Aberforth walking away with a newly-placed beverage on his table. He took a sip and tasted the hint of sweetness in the liquid as he continued to wait for the arrival of Harold Minchum.

         However, noon soon came and went as Turais was left with an empty glass and stomach.

         "That's two Sickles for you," Aberforth said when he came around to collect the glass and for a half-hearted wipe of the table with his filthy cloth. Gesturing the empty stool, he asked, "Where's the other person?"

         "Not sure."

         "Whoever it is, I'd advise you not to meet 'em," Aberforth huffed. "And before you ask why I'm all up your business, it's because I hear that you're a good lad and I don't think you should expose yourself to danger unnecessarily. All sorts of funny folks 'round ere."

         "Yeeeess, aaaall sorts of fuuny folks 'round ere," someone answered behind them loudly. They turned over to see a man with messy, grey hair sitting alone by the bar. His eyes were unfocused as he gulped down the last of his Firewhiskey messily. Runaway liquid ran down his untamed beard and dripped onto the table that had half a dozen of the same bottle. He burped loudly and wiped his mouth with the torn sleeves of his robe. In an attempt to get off the bar stool, he almost fell onto the floor but managed to steady himself on the counter. Then, he started to stumble his way over to them. "What a pretty boy like ya doin' heeere..."

         But he was unable to get a step further as Aberforth grabbed him by the back of his collar. The man turned around to face Aberforth and pawed at his restraining arm uselessly. Noting the lack of progress, the man said with a slur, "Gerroffme."

         "Do not disturb the other customers," Aberforth's voice rumbled.

         "You’re not the boss of me!" 

         Aberforth lifted up the much smaller man with only his toes dragging lightly on the floorboard. "You're no longer welcomed here unless you want to drink this fist." The barman raised his fist menacingly over the other man's face by mere inches.

         The man swatted at the fist and flailed his arm while muttering something. Aberforth released him as the man stumbled his way to the exit, bumping into several tables on his way and knocking over some empty bottles. One of the bottles rolled off the table and smashed into pieces as the door closed behind him.

         Aberforth turned to look at Turais expectantly, but he was met by Turais's unfazed reaction.

         "I would like a second drink," Turais said as he placed the coins on the table.

         Aberforth sighed as he took them.

         "Who exactly are you waiting for?" the barkeeper asked as he returned.

         "Mr Harold Minchum, one of the elected representatives in the Wizengamot."

         "Ah, the former Auror. He has been here once several weeks ago. But why did he ask to meet you here-" Aberforth confirmed as his eyes squinted, focusing on something outside the window. "Wait, isn't that him?"

         Turais looked at where the man was pointing at, and sure enough, he recognized the faint outline of Mr Minchum. The man's posture was crouched with his wand ready in his hand as if he was stalking something that led away from Hog's Head into the abandoned warehouses.

         "Uh, yes," Turais said. He stood up and continued to watch as the man walked further and further away before he disappeared around the corner.

          'What is he doing?' Turais wondered.

         Turning to Aberforth, he asked, "What is over there in the abandoned warehouses?"

         "You said it. It's abandoned. There's nothing but a bunch of strange folks holing up there by nightfall. But they have been getting worse these days, it's no place for you, or him, to be at."

         "What happened recently?"

         "Just more people I haven't seen before coming and going," Aberforth replied. "And the stores nearby have complained about a horrible stench on some days."

         "What stench?"

         "Like a pit of urine, they said. But I haven't encountered it yet. They like to complain and exaggerate everything though, mind you."

         "A pit of urine..." Turais felt the description was vaguely familiar, tugging at his consciousness.

         Turais's mind raced. Urine stench. Harold Minchum. Stolen Philosopher's Stone.

         This was Hogsmeade, which was next to Hogwarts and where Dumbledore resided... It couldn't possibly be...

         "Wildfyre," Turais breathed. He turned to Aberforth and said, "Sorry, I need to go -"

         "Where are you going?!" Aberforth shouted as Turais ran out into the frosty January cold.

         Turais palmed his wand and dashed off towards where Minchum disappeared to. But he only ran a short distance into the maze of warehouses when he saw a boy wandering into view.

         It was Jonty.

         "What are you doing here, Jonty? Go back to Hogwarts," Turais said harshly as he scanned the environment. There were three sets of fresh footprints, leading further up the hill where Turais would head to.

         "Turais, listen -" Jonty pleaded.

         "It's not safe here."

         "Turais, you're not list-"

         "Go back, now!"

         "I MESSED UP!" Jonty shouted and finally received Turais's attention.

         "What do you mean?" Turais hissed.

         Jonty closed his eyes and said, "I... I made a mistake..."

         "What mistake?"

         "I... I heard rumours about Wilkins setting a date for his wedding with the Swire girl. So, when I saw Potter, I asked him about it... and he just shut down and ran off. Wilkins was chasing after him and I lost sight of them around... around here."

         "Kaiden and Michael are here?!" Turais shouted in panic as he whipped around to look at the abandoned structures in front of him.

         Minchum. Kaiden. Michael. Gerald's vision. Death. Wildfyre.

         Something was definitely going wrong here soon.

         Turais pointed to the sky and cast the Auror Distress signal. A red sparkle exploded from the tip of his wand and shot through the heavy clouds, disappearing from view. He quickly turned to Jonty and said, "Go to Hog's Head and stay there."

         "But what about you?" Jonty asked as Turais dashed off.

         "I'll be fine!" he shouted. Casting a Tracking Spell in front of him, he identified the footprints were indeed made by an adult and two teenagers, matching Minchum, Kaiden, and Michael's profile.

         He reached the top of the slope. There, he detected an increasingly strong whiff of sulphur. Following it, he walked cautiously until he stood hidden behind a nearby structure and peeked out into the tiny courtyard that was overrun by frozen weeds and lifted brick tiles.

         No one was in sight but the three sets of footprints diverged. One set reached the front of a large multi-storied structure that had fallen into disrepair. The red paint was faded and chipped off, revealing the wooden boards underneath. Brown weeds and vines seemed to take over the vertical surfaces as they latched on tightly and burrowed into any crevices they encountered. The other two sets of footprints veered off and disappeared around this structure instead.

         Now, the smell was still faint but much more noticeable than before. And it was coming directly from the building.

         "Don't move!" Minchum's voice suddenly shouted out from within.

         Then, there were echoes of muffled shouts mixed with a series of bangs and cracks. Flashes of light in red and green illuminated the dark interior before everything fell silent once more.

         Wand-ready, Turais was about to venture closer when he heard footsteps from behind. Whipping around, Turais found the tip of his wand an inch away from Charlus's bobbing throat. Four other Aurors trailed behind him.

         "Turais," Charlus hissed as Turais retracted his wand. "What are you doing here?"

         "I... I..." Turais knew that revealing his knowledge on Wildfyre would only bring suspicion, "... I heard Mr Minchum's voice inside. I think he is in danger!"

         Then, he remembered that Kaiden and Michael were somewhere around here as well.

         "Kaiden!" Turais said quickly as Charlus's eyes flashed with worry before they steeled again. "Kaiden and Michael are somewhere around here as well."

         "You stay put," Charlus said firmly before he directed his team forward and approached the building. Turais eyed them from his position, preparing to jump into action as well if something were to occur.

         Carefully, Charlus's team edged towards the structure while remaining hidden from a possible direct line of attack.

         When they were just a few metres away, there was a loud bang just as he saw a strange green light flicker from the broken windows. Unlike the previous flashes, this one was continuous and grew brighter and brighter.

         Before Turais could react with a shout of warning, the entire front of the warehouse fractured as the gaps revealed the raging firestorm within. Turais watched helplessly as the scorching heat blasted forward, vaulting flames directly into their paths as the sound of an explosion ripped through his eardrums. The colossal force expanded and flung the five Aurors into the air before it also swept him off his feet. Light and heat washed over his airborne figure as the world fell silent.

         He was expecting for searing pain to engulf him, for the air to be smashed from his lungs, for the heat to burn him, for desperation to consume him.

         But his senses contradicted his experience.

         Turais cracked his eyes open and found himself staring into a fiery lick of flame that was inching towards him as if the air was turned into viscous syrup. The heat was still present, but it was advancing at an imperceptible speed. He could even observe the tiny flakes of amber and ashes disintegrating particle-by-particle off the millions bits of charred wood that was held in suspension around him. The five Aurors in front of him were hanging in the air like motionless figurines mere inches away from the reach of the conflagration. The structure in front of him still retained its outline by the thousands of crystallized pieces held together in an inferno waiting to be unleashed. He looked down and realized that he was still in mid-air. He tried to turn his head to see where Charlus was but he realized his head was turning by the slightest of fractions, as if it was responding to his command in the most sluggish way possible.

         It was as if the entire world was extending out this singular, fiendish moment into a million minutes.

         It was nothing he had ever experienced before.

         But he had no time to question this mystery. Turais dragged up his wand hand upwards and prepared the spell just to see his arm slowly moving through the air as if he was a spectator of his own actions. He willed it to go faster but it, like everything around him, seemed to be moving at a glacial pace.

         Then all of a sudden, the world rushed up to meet him as he seized the opportunity of his newly-regained freedom to utter the incantation.

         " ARRESTO MOMENTUM! "

         He immediately felt the bombardment of millions of debris, flames, and air tearing into his magic as they tried to punch, burn, and explode through his defenses. Turais's body was screaming in agony, his veins set aflame in protest, as he willed himself to contain the explosive force while the debris slowly lost momentum against his impregnable wall of defense...

         In between his eyelids, he could vaguely see the Aurors dragging themselves and their injured comrades away from the dangerous situation that was only paused from his intervention.

         As his strength diminished, the fiery front began to inch forward steadily. And with that, the heat slowly intensified as well.

          'Just a little bit more...'

         He could hear the muffled shouts of the Aurors as they desperately tried to contain the flames by weaving Shield charms together.

         Turais's closed his eyes and grasped the wand with two hands, trying to reach for the last of his energy.

         He could sense the light dimming, the air cooling...

          'Just a bit more...'

         There was a raw, visceral wail.

         "KAIDEN!"

          'Jus...'

Notes:

Sorry, not sorry for the cliffhanger.

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

Until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2020-10-31

Chapter 46: Counterpoint (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

- ravenclawblues 2020-11-21

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

COUNTERPOINT


 

         Gasping as if he was a drowning man, Turais jolted up into a sitting position.

         Hog’s Head. Minchum. Wildfyre. Charlus. Explosion. 

         “Kaiden...” Turais breathed out as he whipped his head around to see the familiar monochromatic grey walls of St. Mungo’s. A gentle whiff of Cleaning Potion stealthily snaked into his nostrils as he scrambled off the bed and stumbled towards the door.

         Sliding the door sideways, Turais ran with a singular focus on the haunting wail of Kaiden’s name. 

         ‘It can’t be...’ Turais’s mind swam in the chaos. ‘But Michael... Kaiden...’

         Suddenly, Turais found himself in the middle of a dark hallway. There was a set of double-doors at the end with two circular, translucent windows. A coldness seemingly emanated from the stone walls and penetrated deep into his bones, causing him to wrap his arms around his shivering body. A thin cloud of rising mist accompanied every breath as he approached the doors. When he was directly in front of them, he finally noticed the dull, metal plaque above.

         It was the morgue. 

         Placing his hand on the door, Turais pushed. Muted rays of light filtered into the hallway, casting ominous shadows on the walls and floors.

         But then, Turais stopped.

         The door closed once again as the glimpses of light disappeared. In the darkness, images of Kaiden, Michael, and Charlus’s bodies lying on cold metal with only a thin piece of cloth covering drove a spike of numbing terror into his heart so chilling that the frigid air paled in comparison.

         Turais looked down at his pair of trembling hands, wondering what he had failed to do.

         There was a series of footsteps from behind. Looking up, Turais saw Dorea running past him and through the doors. As the light shone upon her face, Turais saw a bloodless face pale with terror and eyes filled with fear. Strumming up the last vestiges of his courage, Turais followed her disappearing body into the bright void.

         The moment the light receded, Turais found himself alone inside a dimly-lit room where steel and tiles lined every surface. The next thing he noticed was the overwhelming stench that was a mixture of potent Cleaning potions and putrid carcasses. A taste of bile filled Turais’s mouth as he gripped the edge of a nearby gurney and hunched over. Barely suppressed the hurl, Turais continued to fight off the nauseous sensation in his chest and throat as he swallowed heavily several times.

         It was then that he noticed someone sobbing under laboured breathing. Casting his eyes towards the sound, he saw a boy at the corner of the room, hugging his knees as he curled up into a defensive stance. His face was hidden behind his knees as his entire body shook at every intake of breath.

         Turais approached him with dread in every leaden step and saw two bodies lying on the gurneys squarely in his path. There was an exposed arm hanging limply, burnt beyond recognition. However, the tags on their toes told him of their identities. Immediately, Turais knelt beside the boy and tried to clutch his shoulder but quickly realized his arms passed through the body uselessly.

         Turais tried again and was met with the same predicament.

         Was he an apparition? Was he living in a nightmare?

         “Kaiden...” Turais tried to call out, but his words went unheard as Kaiden continued to mutter to himself.

         “They are not dead...” the boy murmured, shaking his head in denial. “The Healers must have gotten it wrong... They are not dead...”

         “Kaiden...” Tears welled up in Turais’s eyes uncontrollably as he sat back beside the boy, hugging himself tightly as pain and sorrow infiltrated his soul. “I’m so sorry-”

         “I need to find the Healers,” Kaiden breathed as his eyes darted around the room. “Yes, the Healers. They can help... The Healers, yes...” The boy started to push his way past the metal equipment and bodies in a crazed manner. “Where are the Healers? The Healers... we need the Healers...”

         “Healers... yes, Healers...” Kaiden continued to mutter to himself as he collided with more items on his way out.

         Turais picked himself up and tried to wade through the ruckus after the boy while a gentle breeze started to circulate the room.

         “Kaiden -” Turais shouted as he found himself trapped in a maze of stainless steel and bagged bodies while Kaiden continued to venture further and further into the darkness. The wind became a gale while his hair started to whip around in the torrent.

         Turais tried to keep his eyes open. However, the wind was too strong, and he was forced to shield his face with his arms. After a few seconds, the howling of the winds started to slow. He peeked out to see a snowy landscape with a familiar skyline of narrow buildings, pointed roofs, and oddly-angled chimneys.

         It was Hogsmeade.

         Turning his back on the view, Turais saw a tall structure painted in faded red that he recognized as the other side of the abandoned warehouse, which he saw explode. However, it was standing right in front of him as if the explosion never happened.

         There was a loud shout behind him. Turais looked back just as two people came into view around the structure.

         “Kaiden, stop,” Michael’s voice shouted as his hand grabbed onto Kaiden’s arm. Then, Michael wrapped his arms around the crying boy and pressed his body tightly to his back as he whispered pleadingly, “Kaiden, please let me explain -”

         Kaiden twisted in around and held Michael’s face tightly before quickly pressing his lips onto Michael’s. It was less of a kiss and more of a desperate lunge. But the brief contact broke almost immediately as Kaiden pulled back, looking immensely regretful.

         Turais ran towards them, who was only several yards away from the building, and screamed, “Run away from the building!” But the boys did not hear his words as they remained rooted in place. Frustrated beyond words, Turais tried to grab their arms and drag them away, but his hands merely passed through their body like air like before. Looking around the corner, Turais could see Minchum running through the front courtyard and entering the building.

          The explosion was imminent, and he could only watch with dread uncurling in his stomach.

         “I’m so sorry, Michael,” Kaiden whispered brokenly as he searched Michael’s shocked expression. Taking a couple of steps backwards, Kaiden turned his face away with tears rolling in his eyes, and he choked out, “I... I shouldn’t have done that.”

         There was a distant shout followed by a series of muffled bangs, but neither of the boys paid them any attention either. Michael reached his hand out hesitantly, seeming afraid to spook the other boy as he whispered, “Kaiden -”

         “I’m so sorry, Michael,” Kaiden sobbed. “I’ve tried hard but I -”

         “Kaiden,” Michael said urgently. “I-”

         “No, you listen to me!” Kaiden shouted frantically. “After all these years, I... I... thought it would be enough... just staying by your side and loving you secretly... I thought that being your best friend would be enough - would have to be enough. I never confessed because I’m afraid to lose you... but I have lost you all the same...”

         Michael’s mouth hung uselessly. Taking it as a sign of affirmative, Kaiden nodded to himself depreciatingly as he wiped his eyes messily, “I know you don’t feel the same about me... I know you are disgusted by me... I promise... I will stay away from you, and I will never bother you again -”

         Turais saw five Aurors running across the centre of the courtyard from the far side when there was a deep rumbling sounded from deep within the structure. Shortly after, a flash of green could be seen through one of the broken windows. The two boys looked towards the building upon hearing the noise before the building splintered into a million pieces as an enormous inferno blasted outwards. It was as if time slowed almost to a stop. The flames halted just inches in front of Michael and Kaiden, who was also seemingly frozen in place with only the tips of their feet touching the ground. However, Turais could see Michael’s body moving infinitesimally as if he was trying to shield Kaiden from the blast with his own body.

         Then, the flame rushed forward once again as Michael shoved Kaiden hard on his back into a shallow depression nearby with one hand while casting a Shield Charm with his other.

         “Michael!” Kaiden screamed as the blue hue of the Shield flickered out the moment the flames collided against it. Kaiden ducked as the flames filled the space where Michael once stood. The flames surrounded a shocked Turais. However, he remained strangely untouched. Then, he realized that the flames around him started to slow down until it finally stopped. Stranger yet, it began to reverse and recede until the flames were replaced by the crisp, open-air. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of a complete warehouse once more.

         There was a similar sound of urgent footsteps crunching against the snow. Whipping around, Turais watched as Michael chased after Kaiden across the courtyard until they rounded the corner.

         It was as if everything was rewound and replayed.

         Turais watched as the two boys entered an identical argument just as Minchum entered the warehouse once again. Soon after, Minchum’s shout was heard followed by muffled bangs. Just as everything seemed identical to the scenes he saw just moments ago, Turais noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

         Turais saw a replica of himself poking his head around the corner of a structure across the courtyard.

         Turais cast his gaze further and also saw five Aurors approaching his replica from behind. The replicate Turais whipped around and pointed his wand at Charlus before they engaged in a quick, whispered conversation. Before long, Charlus and the four Aurors inched towards the building along the edge of the courtyard while his replica remained in his spot.

         There was a loud boom followed by the tell-tale flash of green. Then, Turais watched the building explode for the third time.

         For several seconds, the world came to a standstill.

         Anticipating this pause, Turais took the time to notice how the trees stood motionlessly. A pair of birds overhead paused as if they were stationary objects fixed in the sky.

         The world was eerily silent, except for a soft, distant sound of crunching snow under hurried feet.

         Then, everything resumed as if it was never interrupted. Soon, it became clear that a divergence in the events was unfolding before his eyes.

         “Arresto Momentum! “Turais could hear his voice shout. The Aurors were thrown to the ground on their backs and began to crawl away. Charlus stumbled onto his knees and waved his wand in an intricate pattern as a protective blue shield was woven from thin air. The other Aurors quickly joined in as Turais saw himself training his wand on the explosion with exhausted desperation.

         “Kaiden!” Michael shouted from behind. Turais turned around to see Michael reaching his arm into the ditch with the flames merely metres away, “Take my hand!”

         Kaiden gripped Michael’s hand without hesitation as the Slytherin closed his eyes in concentration. Their bodies started to warp and twist when suddenly there was a loud bang. Michael screeched in pain and tumbled onto the ground, motionless.

         “Michael!” Kaiden shouted as he climbed out of the ditch. Glancing at the flame, Kaiden immediately tried to drag the Splinched boy into the ditch.

         “S... save yourself...” Michael muttered breathlessly. His face was bloodless and twisted in pain with his eyes closed as Kaiden continued to drag him away from danger. All the while, the flames receded ever so slightly as a pale blue hue started to wrap around the warehouse, containing it.

         “I’m not leaving without you,” Kaiden gritted as half of Michael’s body draped over the edge. He managed to drag Michael’s entire body into the ditch when the flames suddenly advanced and caught Kaiden by surprise.

         “Kaiden!”

         Then Kaiden’s scream filled the air just as Turais’s world was consumed in flames for one final time.

 

***

 

         Blinking his eyes, Turais slowly adjusted to the dim environment around him. Soft, golden sunlight filtered through the thick foliage of young evergreens, delicate ferns, and dew-covered grass. The air felt cool to his skin, but not cold.

         There was an inexplicable sense of serenity that put his frantic mind at ease. The terrible visions suddenly did not seem too pressing.

        Taking several steps to venture out of the thicket, everything became marginally brighter as Turais realized he had already reached the edge of the woods. Turais looked up to observe where the source of the light was. However, the skies were in a uniform, mellow glow in all directions. Before him, there was a narrow strip of sandy beach. And beyond that, he saw a very calm ocean. It was so still that Turais could not even see a hint of ebb or flow, crest or trough, lapping at the shore. Further in the horizon, angry, dark clouds were gathering threateningly. There was a sudden flash of lightning as Turais saw every branch of the dangerous electricity inching towards the turbulent, inky waters below.

         Another breeze brushed Turais’s face when he realized that the world was muted.

         Everything was still. Unnaturally still.

         Turais looked back to the woods where he emerged from but found imposing giants of oaks and pines that cast towering shadows over him. Taking a step backward, Turais could feel the damn coolness of water surrounding his boot when he realized the beach had disappeared and became a marsh. Looking closely at the budding cat-tails around him, he saw them elongating rapidly until they grew to a height beyond his own. Surrounded by a wall of green, Turais looked up to see the cylindrical, brown spikes forming to full size before the entire plant quickly wilted and deteriorated back into the ground. Behind him, the old-growth forest had disappeared as well, leaving only a small hill surrounded by the ocean on all sides.

         In the blink of an eye, the skies turned into obsidian darkness as menacing clouds swirled above. A torrent of rain descended upon the earth and threatened to submerge the barren island into obscurity. Strangely, despite the downpour, Turais remained dry. Extending his hand outward, he watched in wonder as the droplets of rain splattered onto his palm and streamed off in trails down his arm.

         But only seconds later, the trails of water receded into his palm and reformed into beads before shooting up once more. The storm also dissipated, leaving the skies empty as if nothing ever happened. Behind him, the land turned into a small island. The sole object sharing the island with him was a strange-looking tree in the middle. It looked as if three trees were twisted around each other, voluntarily intertwining their lives together until their converged end.

         In the far distance, a rumble of thunder sounded as the lightning branch continued its eternal journey reaching for the ocean.

         ‘There was a temporary lapse in time, caused by another. And your presence has pressed the weakness and diverted the stream of time from one nexus to another.’

         A voice reverberated in his mind, creating a gentle resonance that stirred deep within his body. It was a peculiar sensation, but not an unfamiliar one. However, Turais strained to remember when he last felt this before.

         “Who are you?” Turais asked into the void, but the voice did not answer. Instead, it continued as if it was never interrupted.

         ‘Every action will bring forth a reaction. There will be consequences, both favourable and not.’

         “What does that mean?” Turais shouted, panning his view at every corner of the skies. The memories of his recent encounters sparked the dormant sense of urgency in his mind as he asked, “Did I prevent Michael and Charlus’s death?”

         ‘You must go now.’

         There was a mental tug as Turais felt his grip on his consciousness loosen.

         “Who are you?” he whispered weakly while his eyelids drooped.

         ‘That, you already know.’

         Fending off the haze that was creeping into his mind, Turais thought back to the incredible sight that he saw on this island just moments ago. When an instant became a century and a century became an instant -

         “Time,” Turais breathed out in recognition.

         There was a gentle chuckle as Turais’s mind went blank.

         ‘Sleep well, young one.’

 

***

 

         Turais slowly blinked his eyes as he found himself in a similar room that he woke up to before. He was trying to determine whether he was still in a fevered dream or grounded back in reality. His question was soon answered as he found himself looking up at a familiar face.

         “Carl?” Turais asked, realizing that his voice was a little sore. The Healer’s eyes widened a little in surprise before giving a bright, cheery smile.

         “Hey, Turais,” Carl said softly.

         Turais turned his head to look around and saw he was inside a large hospital room, just like he saw in his vision. However, he now noticed that there was also a brown, leather couch on the far wall with a potted plant on the tea table. Except for those two objects, the rest of the room was a monochromatic, sterile gray. 

         “Am I at St. Mungo’s?”

         “Yes, I requested for your case when your name popped up,” Carl said with a small grin. “I had to make sure you are in the best hands as well, right?”

         Turais didn’t respond as his mind finally caught up to the disastrous situation that occurred before he lost consciousness. Quickly clutching the Healer’s robe, Turais asked, “What happened in Hogsmeade? How is Charlus? The Aurors? There was an explosion, and -”

         “Turais-”

         Suddenly, the distraught voice shouting out Kaiden’s name echoed in his mind, slamming a horrible sense of dread into his chest. It was a voice of absolute panic, distress, and sadness...

         “- What happened to Kaiden? Michael? Charlus?” Turais said as his eyes darted frantically. “Where are they? I need to know -”

         “Turais, please -”

         “Bring me to them,” Turais started to heave himself off the bed, but then quickly realized that all his muscles were aching and screaming in agony.

         “You have extreme magical fatigue,” Carl said quickly, but Turais forced himself into his slippers. “You have almost expended all of your energy, and I doubt you can even walk one step, let alone find anyone!”

         “I need to know -” Turais pushed Carl’s hand away.

         “There are no casualties,” Carl said as Turais’s heart unclenched by a slight fraction. “What you need right now is rest.”

         “I will have plenty of time to rest after,” Turais said stubbornly as he slid the door open into the hallway. “You can either help me so I can get to my rest earlier or not. But I need to see them well with my own eyes.”

         Carl glared at Turais for a long moment before he sighed in defeat and followed behind him.

         Each step and breath was difficult as Turais slowly made his way to the ward where the Intensive Care Unit was. When he turned the corner into the hallway, he could see Michael and Charlus sitting in the row of chairs opposite the room. Their robes were all in tatters and burnt on the fringes. A bandage was wrapped around Michael’s tipped-down head and injured, and bloodied hands were clamped together tightly as he looked like he was in a desperate prayer. Beside him, Charlus was doing the same.

         “Michael...” Turais gasped as he tumbled towards the men. “...Charlus -”

         Charlus looked up at him and, for a second, twisted his mouth into a forceful smile before it disappeared into a worried frown once more. Michael, on the other hand, kept his eyes closed as he continued to pray. Turais collapsed onto the nearest chair as his legs shook violently from the straining ordeal.

         “H... how are the Aurors?” Turais asked.

         “They are all safe,” Charlus said. “Slightly roughed up, but nothing serious. Thanks to you -”

          “H... How about K...Kaiden?” Turais interrupted.

         “He’s...” Charlus’s brave smile faltered as he turned to face the closed doors that led to the Intensive Care Unit. “He’s... He’ll be fine.”

         “W... what happened?”

         “The warehouse exploded... and... and... the flames struck him badly...”

         “How badly?” Guilt, pain, agony dug painfully into Turais’s heart as his nose soured.

         “We... we don’t know...” Charlus said as his voice became to shake, “... the H... Healers are doing their best... but they said he’s... he’s in critical condition...”

         “It’s all my fault,” Turais mumbled as he stared at his palms, berating his ineptitude. “If I... If I could just stop the explosion... if I could just hang on for a moment longer... I could’ve tried harder... I should’ve tried harder...”

         There was a firm grip on his shoulder. 

         “You need to know that no one blames you, Turais,” Charlus said gently. “You saved all our lives today.”

         “But I could’ve done more,” Turais retorted as he slammed a fist onto his thigh. The sharp pain distracted him from the stabbing pain in his heart, but only for a brief moment. “I was not strong enough. I was too weak.”

         “No, Turais -”

         “Charlus, I -”

         “It was all my fault.”

         Charlus and Turais turned to look at Michael.

         “It... it was all my fault,” Michael whispered brokenly. “I was supposed to protect him... I should have known there was a ward... but he... but he tried to save me instead... it was all my fault... it was all my fault...”

         Before anyone could say anything more, the doors of the Intensive Care Unit swung open in front of them as the Healers strolled out. Everyone stood up at once as Charlus stepped forward.

         “How is my son?”

         “Your son has responded well to our initial treatment, his condition has stabilized and is no longer in danger of losing his life,” everyone released the breath that they held tightly for a long time. “He has a long, arduous path to recovery ahead.” 

         “Thank you,” Charlus gasped as he tried to take the Chief Healer’s hand, but the man motioned for him to pause. “I cannot thank-”

         “However...” the Healer interrupted. “...However, your son’s right arm sustained extensive damage. While we managed to save it, it is unlikely he will ever regain full utility of it.”

         Charlus’s relieved smile faded. “W...what do you m...mean?”

         The Healer breathed in deeply, looking immensely regretful, before saying, “Allow me to, perhaps, phrase it this way... Quidditch will not appear in his tarot readings.”

         The comment was met with a shocked silence as everyone was rooted in their place, trying to absorb the news. A heavy cloud of despair had seemingly descended upon them as Charlus sucked in an audible, shaky breath.

         “T... there’s n...nothing you can do?” Charlus whispered. “Nothing at all?”

         The Healer bowed his head and said, “We’ve done everything we can. I’m sorry.”

         Charlus’s expression crumpled. For a split second, the deep sorrow and pain were displayed nakedly on his face before it disappeared. The man quickly rubbed his face with his hands before nodding to himself. He muttered, as if he was his audience, “That’s alright... the most important thing is that Kaiden is alive, right?” He looked around the corridor with a forced smile that was not shared by the rest. “Let's worry about everything else after, shall we?"

         Amidst the stilted lack of response, Charlus turned his attention back to the Healer.

         “May I...?" Charlus gestured at the room behind Healer, who stepped off to the side at once.

         “Of course. His induced sleep has been lifted. Please make sure he wakes up naturally."

         “Of course, of course," Charlus said absent-mindedly as he walked into the room, almost tripping as his toe caught the edge of the doorway. Turais followed Charlus, but not without casting a glance at Michael, who displayed no signs of moving. He merely stood in the corridor, gripping the door tightly.

         “Michael, are you coming?" Turais asked quietly.

         “I... I think... I should come back later-"

         “Michael..." Turais approached the boy only to see him take a few steps backward instead. “Kaiden would want to see you."

         “He won't," Michael spat out bitterly.

         “That's not for you to decide," Turais said sharply, surprising himself and Michael with the sudden shift in tone. “The boy lying on that bed saved your life, knowing damn well he could lose his own in the process." Softening his voice, Turais continued as he gripped Michael's arm, “I know you would have done the same for him. If you are willing to give up your life for his, why are you unwilling to be by his side when he needs you most?"

         Michael's face crumpled. “It was not supposed to happen this way. None of this should have happened."

         Turais looked up at the boy sadly, “There is no point in wallowing in the past and all the what-ifs. What is most important is to ask yourself what you can do now."

         “I... I don't know," Michael said in scared frustration. Through all the vulnerability, Turais suddenly remembered that the boy in front of him was only a seventeen-year-old overwhelmed by immense grief, guilt, and fear over the life of his loved one.

         “It's alright," Turais said. "You don't need to have an answer right this moment. Let's go in and visit Kaiden first."

         Michael nodded silently, allowing himself to be guided by Turais into the room.

         “Carmichael," a harsh voice called out dangerously.

         Michael stopped in his tracks without turning his back, but Turais could note the abrupt shift in posture and tension from the boy. Turning around, Turais saw a middle-aged couple with a stern disposition glaring at Michael's back, disapproving from the end of the hallway. Turais looked between the three people, questioning their similar appearance, before finally making the familial connection.

         “How is the boy?" Michael's father asked.

         “I'm about to find out," Michael said coldly. His back was still firmly against them.

         “Judging by your lack of urgency, I suppose he is not in any life-threatening condition then?"

         “No, but-"

         “Miss Swire is still waiting for you at -"

         “I'm not going to meet her."

         “You insolent child -"

         Michael whipped around and jabbed a finger towards the room, “Kaiden just saved my life, and he is still unconscious. I am not leaving him."

         His father's face flushed into a dangerous shade of red. Puffing his chest to hold in his bubbling rage, the man said with a voice shaking in anger, “Have you forgotten the importance of securing an alliance with the Swires -"

         “If I died in that explosion, you would have a dead son instead of one whom you can force a marriage upon," Michael said bitingly. “I don't want to see you two anywhere near Kaiden." Grabbing Turais by the arm, they left the stunned couple in the hallway.

         “Michael -"

         “I don't want to talk about it," Michael said firmly.

         On the hospital bed, Kaiden laid still with only the slow rise and fall of his chest as evidence of his close encounter with death. His face was pale and covered with tiny flecks of soot and char. Turais looked down at his arm and saw it was heavily bandaged. However, the exposed parts of his fingers was enough to tell the story of the damage inflicted. An extensive network of angry, red ridges crisscrossed the back of his hand, which extended up and disappeared under the white fabric. 

         He knew the exact moment Michael saw the same as a pained whimper escaped from his mouth while his entire body tensed up.  Meanwhile, a silently grieving Charlus paced around the room as he rubbed his hands together nervously.

         “He's not awake yet?" Michael asked, his gaze glued on the slumbering figure.

         “No," Charlus breathed out shudderingly. "Not yet."

         Sitting down on the chairs beside the bed, Michael gripped the edge of the mattress with both hands while a wave of emotions flashed across his quivering eyes.

         “Kay..." Michael whispered the name softly like a prayer. He reached towards the slumbering boy slowly. And just as his finger touched Kaiden's cheek, the unconscious boy’s face scrunched up. Michael's hand immediately retreated to his side as he redirected his gaze to the floor below him.

         At the sudden movement, Charlus rushed back to his son's side and whispered, “Kaiden?" The relief was evident on his face.

         Kaiden groaned again as the sheets ruffled under his movement.

         “Michael?" the name fell from Kaiden's lips like a sigh.

         Michael looked up in shock and surprise. Clutching Kaiden's uninjured hand and bringing it to his lips, tears began to well up in his eyes as he choked out a response. "Yeah- Kay, I'm here. I-I'm here."

         The furrow between Kaiden's brows softened at the words. Responding with a light squeeze, Kaiden drifted back to sleep with a faint smile on his face.

         There was a hurried knock on the door as Carl entered. Eyeing the slumbering figure, he walked up to Charlus and whispered something into his ear. Charlus's eyes widened, then frowned, before casting a worried glance at his son. He looked back at Carl and sighed, “I will be there."

         Carl nodded as the two men moved to leave the room. Turais caught up to them by the door and asked, “Charlus, what is it?" 

         “They found Harold Minchum unconscious inside the destroyed building -"

         “Is he alive?" Turais asked urgently.

         “He just arrived at St. Mungo's. I will go and check on his condition right now," Charlus said. 

         “But Kaiden will be waking up at any moment now."

         “I think..." Charlus and Turais looked back into the room and saw Michael looking at Kaiden fondly while gently caressing the hand in between his. "...I think he has the one person he needs beside him. Let's give both of them some space, shall we?" 

         Turais nodded silently before he followed Charlus to the emergency department, ignoring the protest that his muscles continued to mount against him. Once they entered the ward, Turais saw four Aurors sitting on their beds with various degrees of injury. Colourful pastes and their pungent smell filled the room. In the far corner, one of the beds was blocked from view by the screens around it.

         Charlus and Turais walked behind it to see Harold Minchum lying on the bed with ash-covered face and singed hair as Healers milled around it. On a table nearby, there was a pile of completely charred clothes. It looked as if a Hungarian Horntail had sneezed directly onto the man. It was a miracle that the man was alive right now.

         “Did you bring him in, Duncan?" Charlus asked a nearby Auror, who nodded. "How is he doing?"

         “He's lucky to be alive," Duncan replied. “Found him trapped under a pile of limestone. It looks like the stone withheld the fire for just long enough to not burn him into a crisp like the other three."

         “Those are the suspects?" Charlus asked. 

         “Likely. Although the coroners will have a high time trying to identify them. There's not much of anything left of them."

         “Why was he at Hogsmeade in the first place?"

         Duncan cast a sideways glance at Turais before walking them out of the ward. He brought them to a nearby room, guarded by Aurors, and tapped on a piece of parchment. A quarter of it was burnt off while the rest of the sheet was browned considerably. However, the writing was still legible.

         “We found this letter in his pocket."

         Turais stole a peek while Charlus read the content. It was a letter that asked Mr Minchum to meet at Hog's Head for a meeting, undersigned by...

         “I didn't pen this letter!" Turais gasped as he saw his name.

         “We have Mr Black's magical signature on record, and this letter didn't match his profile," Duncan confirmed as Turais's heart settled a little more.

         “Why did someone pretend to ask Harold to go to Hog's Head under Turais's name?" Charlus asked. "And Turais, why were you at Hog's Head?"

         “Actually..." Turais said hesitantly as the two men looked down at him. "... Mr Minchum also asked to meet me at Hog's Head." He felt his robes and pulled out the folded letter Minchum wrote him was still in one of his pockets. Passing it to Charlus, he quickly read the letter and frowned.

         “The handwriting on both letters are the same, which is suspicious. We can run a check later, but I am certain this is not Harold's writing," Charlus said. "Someone wanted Harold and Turais to be at Hog's Head at that particular time."

         “But why?" Turais asked incredulously before something clicked into place in his mind. “Wildfyre!" he breathed. “Mr Minchum would have immediately recognized the scent of Wildfyre. That's why he went to the warehouse in the first place."

         “And you were there as a witness," Charlus suggested. "But that still doesn't explain why the culprit would devise such an elaborate scheme. There are simply too many moving parts in this plan. And also, what is their motive?"

         Nothing made sense, and Turais felt that his mind was about to explode when suddenly there was a loud shout.

         “Turais!" Turais whipped around to see Orion running towards him. He immediately pulled Turais in and hugged him tightly. “Thank Merlin, you are safe," Orion said with a shuddering breath. He pulled away and inspected every inch of his son's body, “Are you alright? What did the Healers say?"

         “Just magical exhaustion. It's nothing-"

         “Why are you out of bed then?!" Orion shouted as he received severe glares from the Healers nearby. "You should be resting! Not walking around doing whatever you are doing!" He then looked at Charlus angrily, “You should have known better than let him run around playing detective!"

         “I -"

         “We're heading back," Orion interrupted as he dragged Turais away, not bothering to hear what Charlus had to say.

         For the rest of the day, Turais allowed Orion to fuss over him. He pretended to be mentally present throughout all the motions. However, all the while, his mind wondered whether he had successfully rewritten the premature endings of Michael and Charlus's lives.

         And if so, at what expense?

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

Until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2020-11-21

Chapter 47: In Closed Wards with Open Ears (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update (and the last one of the year)! I hope you enjoy it!

Also, I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

- ravenclawblues 2020-12-22

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

IN CLOSED WARDS WITH OPEN EARS


 

         "Can you please explain what you observed once again?" Turais spoke into the chill air as he paced within the four sterile walls of his hospital room. If someone peered in from the hallway, they would only think that Turais was in a deep conversation with himself as they would never detect the other-worldly presence of his companion.

         While Turais felt he had completely recovered since four days ago, he was confined within his room at St. Mungo's for the entire week by seemingly unanimous consent from his family to the Aurors to the Healers. 

          Everyone except, of course, himself.

         'Carmichael Wilkins, Charlus Potter, and the four Aurors were dangerously close to crossing over into my domain... so close that it lulled me into believing they did wander across. However, their continued existence in the world of the living contradicted my assumption... Yet, I could somehow still sense their phantomic presence lingers. Very peculiar, indeed.'

         "So you are telling me that you don't know whether I have ultimately saved their lives or not?"

         'I do not weave the fabric of life nor observe it. I merely patrol the fringes and collect the souls who have come into view with their threads run bare. Their paradoxical presence in both the land of the living and the dead stemmed from your involvement, although I do not presume to know what role Time plays in this.'

         Stopping in front of the window, Turais looked out into the dreary skies above the London cityscape. A pedestrian walked past the hospital entrance below him, which was disguised as a departmental storefront, without a passing glance. Turning back to the centre of the room, he asked, "How about Kaiden? Not once have I heard you mention his name. And also, Harold Minchum's?"

         'I never detected their presence.'

         "Which means that they were never at risk of losing their life... then that also means that they survived in the original timeline..." Turais muttered as his thoughts lingered on another issue. At the scene, Turais felt the thick aura of death emanating from the warehouse. However, unlike Lord Fawley's death, he was able to prevent the death of several individuals. It seemed as though if Turais was in close vicinity of the potential victims, he would be able to detect it. Of course, there was nothing conclusive about his findings, but it did give him hope.

          "Time also mentioned something about a temporary lapse in time. Do you have any idea what It meant?"

         'Indeed, the stream of time can be slowed, paused, and even reversed momentarily. However, it flows unilaterally from the past to the future without fail. The temporary lapse It was implying was most likely due to a slowing of time.'

         Thinking back to what had transpired, Turais did notice that time slowed to an almost imperceptible crawl. And it was the lengthening of that one instant that he was able to react quickly and save everyone from the Wildfyre blast.

         Someone or something caused time to slow, creating the weakness in time that Turais could capitalize on. The first vision he received from Time, which showed Michael and Charlus dead, must have been the original timeline. His presence in the second vision in which his Slowing Charm enabled Michael to attempt an Apparition and allowed the Aurors to weave together a powerful Shield Charm to contain the Wildfyre...

         "No one noticed the slowing of time, except for me. But I am the Master of Death so perhaps I was less affected compared to others. But what could have paused Time? Time Turners can transport a person to the past. However, it does not grant the power to alter the outcome of the future. Time Turners cannot pause time either."

         'That, you will have to discover yourself, for that is beyond my knowledge.'

         Turais expelled a loud gasp of frustration just as a knock sounded on the door. Orion and Carl entered the room just as Turais leapt into the bed and pulled up his sheets.

         "You should not be out of bed," Orion said with a hint of exasperation. 

         "But I've recovered!" Turais protested.

         "No. You're not."

         "I am, father! I feel healthy, energized, and all the other synonyms of those two words. I am ready to leave!"

         And perhaps his assertion was a bit of a stretch of the truth, but he honestly felt fine... except for a strange sense of emptiness inside him as if there was a severed connection.

         Besides Orion, Carl crossed his arms and gave Turais an unimpressed look.

         "You paused a warehouse explosion for more than a minute, Turais. Let us ignore the question of how you managed to do that for one moment. But the fact that you did means you have expended most, if not all, of your magic. You do not recover from this magnitude of magical exhaustion overnight."

         "Guess I'm a special case," Turais shrugged.

         Carl sighed tiredly. "Turais, let's strike a deal. If you can do this one task, I will sign your discharge papers. If not, you will quit trying to convince me or any of the other Healers to let you leave."

         That piqued Turais's interest. "What is it?"

         Rummaging his robe and pulling out a quill, Carl said, "If you can lift this quill off my palm magically, you are free to go."

         "Well, that's easy," Turais said. "Wingardium Leviosa."

         The quill did not budge. 

         "Wingardium Leviosa," he repeated a bit more forcefully. The fine combs of feather twitched slightly this time, and Carl's eyes widened at the sight. However, the quill ultimately rolled over in his palm without levitating off.

         Carl's incredulous expression was quickly replaced by one of relief. 

         "What?" Turais gasped as he examined his hand.

         "Well, I guess you will have to stay a little longer then."

         "His condition is not permanent, is it?" Orion asked worriedly.

         "I stand by what I said previously. Turais's reservoir of magic has been depleted from his act of heroism. He merely needs time for it to replenish itself. Sufficient rest -" Carl gave Turais a pointed glare, "- will aid in that process. And it is my professional advice that he remains at St. Mungo's so we can ensure he does not exert himself any more than necessary."

         "You're not going to be able to learn magic at Hogwarts at your current state anyway, Turais," Orion said softly. "Treat this as a well-deserved rest."

         It was not schoolwork that Turais worried about, but the fact that someone likely had the Philosopher's Stone and was potentially creating destructive Wildfyre from it. And that was only one of the numerous mysteries yet to be solved.

         Slightly frustrated, Turais tried for the door. And when Carl placed a restraining hand on him, he shoved it off his shoulder and snapped in annoyance.

         "If I must stay here, I might as well visit my fellow inmates. They say exercise is good for recovery as well."

         "Where are you go-" Orion shouted after him.

         "Kaiden's room!" Turais shouted back as he stomped out of his room.

 

***

 

         Turais looked through the glass panel on the door to Kaiden's room. He could see Kaiden lying on the bed with a slight incline with his eyes glued on his companion, who was dozing off on the chair beside him. The boy lifted a finger on his uninjured hand and poked Michael in the cheek, which caused Michael to jerk awake, confused. Kaiden laughed as Michael's scowl slowly turned into a smile. He poked Kaiden gently in the waist, causing the other boy to shrink and laugh.

         He took a brief moment to take in the sight in front of him. Even if Kaiden was worse for wear, at least he was still alive. As was Michael, and Charlus, and the rest of the Aurors...

         Then, Turais noticed that the boys' gazes connected for a long, wordless moment before they both looked away, blushing.

         It was oddly intimate, and Turais felt as if he was intruding on something.

         "They are good for each other, don't you think?"

         Startled, Turais looked beside him to see Dorea watching the boys with a soft expression. Behind her, there was a hovering tray of potions.

         "I... I suppose so...?" Turais responded cautiously.

         "Michael professed his love to Kaiden yesterday." Turais faced Dorea with a faint smile on his smile. Upon seeing his mild reaction, Dorea asked, "So you knew of their relationship already?"

         "I... suspected," Turais breathed out as he saw that Michael was now holding a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. He scooped a spoonful of porridge and blew on it before bringing the spoon to Kaiden's lips. For the entire time, they looked at each other as if they were living in their own world. "But it was not my business to pry."

         Dorea smiled and said, "Of course."

         "But... there is one thing..." Turais said. "Michael is in a courtship with the Swire daughter. That is going to complicate matters."

         "Indeed, Charlus and I had a long conversation with Michael yesterday," Dorea explained grimly. "There are several, thorny issues to tackle on Michael's side on top of Kaiden's recovery."

         Perhaps a near-death situation had put things into perspective for Michael.

         "Do you approve of them?" Turais asked lightly.

         "We would love to have Michael as our son-in-law. As far as we are concerned, he has always been part of the family," Dorea replied. Then, she rested a hand on Turais's forearm as he turned around to see Dorea's intense gaze. "Turais... since you are here... I also want to say - on behalf of our entire family - that we owe you a great debt of gratitude. Even though I should never wish anyone to be placed in such a dangerous situation, I... I am so glad you were there to save their lives, Turais. I just... I just cannot imagine..." Dorea sniffed out a tiny sob, "Losing Charlus or Kaiden or... or both of them..."

         "Dorea, I... I... am very glad as well..." Turais said softly, rubbing his arms absent-mindedly. "But I'm sorry I couldn't do more about his... about his..."

         "Please know that none of us blames you for his condition. We are just thankful that he is still with us."

         Turais nodded silently as he looked on. Suddenly, Kaiden's gaze connected with his.

         "Oh, they have spotted us," Dorea said. She turned away from the door and quickly wiped her eyes with her hands. Turais looked into the room and saw Kaiden waving at him excitedly.

         Turais smiled and waved back. Just as he was about to slide the door open, Dorea rested her hand on his.

         "We haven't told Kaiden about the condition of his arm yet. It would be best for him first to regain his strength and let the blows fall by degree."

         "I... I understand," Turais nodded.

         "Thank you," Dorea smiled ruefully before she tugged on her dress and opened the door. As they approached, a warm, fragrant scent of sweetness filled the air.

         "Why were you both just standing outside?" Kaiden asked cheerily as he reached to his left for the pile of sweets on the bedside table. "Want a Chocolate Frog? My mum bought me a mountain of them, but I can't eat them."

         Shaking his head politely to decline the offer, Turais sat down on the chair beside the bed.

         "What are you eating, Kaiden?" Dorea asked with a knowing glint in her eyes.

         "Porridge that Michael brought for me," Kaiden said between sips.

         "Is that why you told the Mediwizards not to bring up your lunch today?"

         Kaiden coughed into the spoon, causing some porridge to dribble down the corner of his mouth to his chin. Michael quickly pulled out his handkerchief with one hand to dab the area clean while Kaiden's ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

         "Kaiden said he didn't like the food here, so I made some porridge," Michael quickly clarified. "I just thought it would be nice for Kaiden to eat something different. I did clear the recipe with the Healers beforehand. They said the ingredients would not interfere with the Potions -"

         "Relax, Michael. It is so thoughtful of you." Dorea chuckled as she glanced inside the container. "Oh, it's stewed cinnamon pears and strawberry jam, how lovely. All of Kaiden's favourite toppings."

         Michael nodded silently as his face flushed red.

         Amidst the silence, the floating tray of potion finally caught Kaiden's attention, and he made a sound of disgust.

         "Do I have to take them?" Kaiden pouted as he looked at Michael for support.

         "It's for you to get better sooner," Dorea said. "You're an athlete. You should know the importance of recovery."

         "I know, mum... But all the Potions taste like bile or snot... and I can't have them with chocolate..."

         "Well..." Michael cleared his throat as he pulled out a bag from his robe. "... I also brought some aniseed twists. The Healers said you could have a couple to help keep the Potions down."

         "Thanks," Kaiden whispered as he took the bag.

         "It's nothing," Michael replied. There was another lull.

         "Oh dear," Dorea suddenly said, "I think they missed one of your Potions, Kaiden. I better check with them. You three can continue chatting without me."

         Both boys turned to Turais for the first time and looked as if they just noticed his presence. "Oh... right... hey, Turais..."

         "I just want you both to know that you are disgustingly sweet," Turais teased as the boys looked embarrassed, "I am probably speaking for everyone as well, but I am beyond relieved that you two finally figured it out. The two of you have been dancing around each other for a frustrating period of time."

         "Thank you for putting up with us," Kaiden said as both boys flushed in embarrassment.

         "Well, I am done teasing you both. So how are you doing?"

         "The Healers say I am making good progress. Michael here is going to be discharged in a few days," Kaiden said. "And you?"

         "Not yet," Turais grunted. "Prescribed bed rest until however long they want to keep me locked up here."

         Kaiden made a sympathetic sound.

         "I won't complain about having company. It has been soooo boring around here. I want to just run out of here, fetch a broom, and breathe in some fresh air," he said wistfully while gazing out into the dreary London skies. Meanwhile, Turais noticed that Michael dipped his head guiltily.

         "You know, I wonder if I will get well in time for the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match," Kaiden continued airily. "I mean, Michael's been ordered by the Healers to sit out your match next week, and you are definitely not leaving here in time for the match either. So, it is our best chance to clinch first place going into the finals."

         Michael was visibly thrumming with tension as he said out calmly, "You're not ready to be on a broom yet, Kaiden. The Healers said it would take time -"

         "I know, I know," Kaiden sighed. "I just hope this heals up quickly. You know, I still intend to take the House Cup back from you Slytherins."

         Kaiden flashed Michael a cheery grin that was met with a wall of sombre silence.

         "Michael? Are you feeling off?"

         Michael shook his head, wordlessly. Then, he stood up abruptly and placed the bowl on the bedside table. "I... I need to... uh... the loo... I will be back..."

         With that, Michael escaped from the room as the door slid shut with a bang.

         "Well, that was strange."

         Kaiden looked at Turais questioningly, and he merely shrugged before segueing into a safer conversation topic.

 

***

 

         The week passed by without much fanfare. While Turais was disappointed that he could not leave St. Mungo's, it seemed that it was also a blessing in disguise. Aurors continued to stream through as they conducted their investigation, which allowed Turais access to information that he would not have back in Hogwarts.

         "You know... it's been a week and I can still barely feel anything on my right hand," Kaiden said as he prod his fingers with his other hand.

         "Well, you can't expect the Healers to put a time on these things," Turais said as he guided Kaiden's hands apart. "Your entire arm was practically fried. There is some serious Healing that needs to be done before it gets better."

         The comment was met with a steely silence.

         Then, Kaiden asked quietly as he tugged at a loose piece of bandage, "Turais, are we good friends?"

         "Of course."

         "And good friends will tell each other the truth?"

         Turais did not like where this conversation was heading.

         "Of course."

         "I'm not going to be able to play Quidditch anymore, am I?" 

         "Well... I think we should focus on -"

         "Turais -" Kaiden interrupted him. "- please."

         Turais looked up and saw Kaiden staring back pleadingly, as if he was begging him to confirm what he knew. Turais looked down at his interlaced fingers and nodded his head.

         "The damage to your arm is too severe..." Turais whispered, "... they said you were lucky to even be able to keep it."

         "So... I will be crippled for life, then?"

         Turais nodded, not trusting himself to speak as his eyes started to sting.

         "Thank you for telling me," Kaiden whispered back. Surprised, Turais looked up only to see the boy flash him a nonchalant smile. But that only made Turais feel worse as he sat there silently. "I knew ever since I regained my sense I was never getting back on a broom. But everyone seems so afraid of raising this topic. It's like you all conveniently ignored the fact that I know my own body best. Every part of my body felt better except for my arm... it's almost as if it is not longer part of me... if it makes any sense..."

         There was a long, shuddering sigh.

         "You know, it's not a big deal that I cannot play Quidditch," Kaiden's voice said as it became shakier. "I mean... the Healers said I can still do mundane tasks, right? Like wri... writing, holding a wand...d -"

         Kaiden gasped out a sob as Turais reached forward and held his trembling body tight.

         "I don't know why I am crying. It's not a big deal," Kaiden gargled wetly. "It really is not a big deal. Why am I crying?"

         "It's alright," Turais whispered.

         "I'm so tired of pretending that everything is okay when it's not."

         "Then don't pretend. We are your friends and family, Kay. We want to know about your worries."

         "I know you do. But what is the point if you cannot do anything about it?" Kaiden raised his bandaged arm and waved deprecatingly. "And now, I am literally useless with my useless arm -"

         Kaiden started to claw at the bandages while Turais tried to stop him. 

         "Kaiden, don't -"

         "- useless -"

         "Kaiden!" Michael, all dressed up in his school robes, shouted as he darted towards Kaiden and pulled him in. The fight left Kaiden as he just slumped in Michael's tight embrace. "What are you doing, Kaiden?"

         "Leave me alone, Michael," Kaiden sobbed. "Go find Lavinia."

         "What do you mean?" Michael asked, sounding frightened and small.

         "Don't you see, Michael? I can't give you anything you need. I am useless. You need to marry her to keep your sisters clothed and fed. You need to marry her so you can have someone... someone who is whole. I can't give you any of these -"

         "You're not useless, Kaiden. Not to me. Never to me. Do you understand?" Michael roared. "You are the most important thing in my life. I can... we can deal with all those issues... but I... I can't imagine doing anything without you... beside me."

         Kaiden's breath hitched. "Michael?"

         "I can take care of you forever... I want to take care of you forever..." Michael's eyes darted around frantically before he said quickly, "I know I'm not good with anything besides Quidditch... but I promise I will try my best for you... if... if you will have me... "

         "I... what?" Kaiden looked as his mind went into a complete shutdown.

         Michael released Kaiden from his grip and looked the other boy in the eye with the utmost sincerity.

         "Kaiden Potter, will you marry me?"

         "I... of course. Yes. Yes! But are you sure -" 

         Michael leaned forward and pressed his lips onto Kaiden's for a short, chaste kiss. However, it somehow left both boys flushed and breathless.

         "I... I really liked that..." Kaiden whispered coyly, by which Michael responded with another peck on the lips. Kaiden looked like he was in a bit of a daze afterwards as he said, "I liked that one a lot too."

         Turais was taken aback by the sudden turn of events that unfolded before his eyes. Declaration of love, he expected, but a marriage proposal? That took him by surprise.

         "Uhm... sorry to interrupt..." Turais said as both boys blinked at him owlishly. "I assure you both this was very touching, but I think you two skipped a lot of steps in between reaffirming your relationship and marriage."

         "Right... That's right... uh... so... uh... do you want to go on a date with me?" A flustered Michael asked Kaiden.

         "I... I do! Of course, I do! But your engagement! Your sisters!"

         "I will handle them," Michael said firmly.

         "But the amount of gold you will need to raise... You will need a cauldron full of phoenix tears or... or a bushel of Acromantula venom to repay it -"

         Michael planted another kiss on Kaiden's lips before saying, "Let me worry about it, Kaiden. Just focus on getting better so we can go on that date when you leave St. Mungo's."

         "I... okay..." Kaiden nodded shyly.

         "Turais, can take care of Kaiden for me while I am away?"

         "Of course," Turais said immediately.

         "I can take care of myself just fine," Kaiden huffed without heat in his voice.

         "You're too important to me," Michael said.

         "You're important to me too..." 

         "Okay, stop!" Turais shouted. "Michael, you need to leave now or else you will miss your train, and more importantly, make me throw up on your precious Kaiden."

         "I'll see you soon then," Michael waved with cheeks still tinted red and no indication of leaving.

         "Fine, I will leave then," Turais announced.

         He rolled his eyes and left the room. All the while, he pretended not to hear the goodbye kiss because, please spare him the details.

 

***

 

         After leaving the boys in love, Turais took a slight detour to visit Harold Minchum in the familiar Janus Thickery Ward, where he once spent a lot of time as an Auror. When he reached the man's bed, he was surprised to see the man awake and in a conversation. But he was more surprised to find Tiberius McLaggen in a hospital gown. However, he could not decide whether seeing the man conscious or seeing the man in a bland, all-white hospital gown was more disconcerting.

         "Turais!" Tiberius's face lit up with his trademark smile at the sight of the new visitor. "I am so glad to see you."

         "Glad to see you well, Mr McLaggen," Turais said politely.

         "I would not allow myself to be brought down simply from an amateurish poisoning attempt. Anyhow, I best see myself back before the Mediwizards catch me out of bed."

         "Goodbye," Turais said as the man walked out. Turning his attention back, he asked, "Mr Minchum, how are you feeling?"

         "Could be better," the man rasped out. His voice sounded hoarse from dryness and disuse. "I heard you visited yesterday when I was still unconscious. Sorry for not being a great conversationalist."

         Turais grinned. "Well, I'm glad your sense of humour also survived."

         Minchum's face fell at the words. "Well, not much else did, unfortunately."

         "What do you mean?"

         "Well..." Minchum breathed out a pained sigh as he closed his eyes and adjusted his body. "I received a letter undersigned with your name for an emergency meeting at Hog's Head. I was a bit skeptical because I doubted you would arrange a discussion at such an establishment, but I went nonetheless. The moment I Apparated in front of the pub, I noticed a strange scent... one that reminded me of Wildfyre. Coupled with the recent rumour of the stolen Philosopher's Stone, I decided to investigate the matter.

         "I followed the scent to the abandoned warehouse, and I saw movement at one of the windows. So I slipped inside to see whether there were some illegal operations conducted. I passed by numerous tightly sealed barrels until I reached an isolated room where four men were wearing silver, skull-like masks and long, black robes tinkering with potion equipment -"

         Death Eaters.

         "Excuse the interruption," Turais said. "You said four men?"

         "Yes," Minchum nodded. "I saw four men working around a potions laboratory set-up. There were numerous flasks on the table, but I instantly recognized the bright neon-green liquid in one of them. They were manufacturing Wildfyre and I was surrounded by barrels upon barrels of these incredibly volatile substances.

         "I must have ventured too close because I tripped the Caterwauling Charm, which gave away my position. I thought since we were surrounded by Wildfyre, they would not dare to shoot curses at me. But I was gravely mistaken. I only managed to cast an anti-Apparition ward before they started to blast curses at me, and at that moment, I thought I would be turned into ashes."

         "How did you manage to survive?" Turais asked.

         "I... I..." Minchum's expression turned pained as he clutched his head with both hands tightly. The veins by his temple were throbbing visibly and his breathing turned quick and shallow. "I... I..."

         "It's fine," Turais said in a slight panic. "Just follow my words. Breathe in. Breathe out."

         After several repetitions, Minchum finally relaxed as his breathing returned to normal.

         "I... I'm sorry... everything was just a blur... and... and..."

         "Please don't force yourself. It was a traumatic experience, and I'm sorry for aggravating your condition," Turais said worriedly. "Do I need to call for a Healer?"

         "No. No. I'm fine now. It's not your fault, Mr Black. The same thing happened when the Aurors came by for a statement a few hours ago. I just... couldn't manage to remember past this point..." Minchum opened his eyes by a fraction and gave Turais a weak smile. "I... I thought I would be able to do it. I suppose I overestimated myself. But... Charlus told me they found me surrounded by a wall of limestone... maybe my magic flared up subconsciously as it tried to protect me."

         "But accidental magic only occurs in children..." Turais said hesitantly.

         "I... I don't have a good explanation for what happened... sorry."

         Turais nodded understandingly.

         "If I may ask a final question..." With Minchum's slow nod, he continued, "Did you happen to spot the Philosopher's Stone, considering it was a necessary ingredient for the Wildfyre?"

         "The Aurors asked me the same question, but..." Minchum closed his eyes, seemingly searching his mind for the information. Then, he just shook his head. "Sorry, I still don't recall seeing it."

         "That's alright," Turais said. "Well, I'm just glad to see you are alive to tell the tale."

         "All thanks to you, or so I've heard," Minchum said. "You were quite the hero. If it wasn't for you, I might have died."

         According to Death, Minchum would have survived regardless of Turais's intervention. 

         "They are talking drivel. Complete nonsense, I assure you," Turais said as he stood up. "Well... I will visit you again later. Please get some rest."

         "Thank you for the visit, I really appreciate it."

         Minchum quirked the corners of his lips into a tight grimace as Turais left.

 

***

 

         The next day, when Turais was going to Minchum's room, he saw Charlus, another Auror, and a Healer conversing with the bedridden man.

         "... important for us to access his memory, even if it is fragmented or incomplete," Turais heard Charlus ask.

         "Mr Minchum has sustained a cranial injury that likely caused the transient memory loss," a monotonous voice sounded, which Turais presumed was the Healer, as she waved her wand. A translucent web-like projection appeared above the bed. "As you can see here, parts of his hippocampal region are highlighted in red, which means that memory loss registered was from physical trauma. I would strongly advise against extracting memory from his brain before we ensure that he is recovered as that could cause him further damage."

         "But in the past, Healers have permitted this procedure to be performed on those with more severe injury," the other Auror argued. "This is a well-established, non-invasive procedure with minimal risk to the patient."

         "We have to evaluate each patient on a case-by-case basis," the Healer said stiffly. "And I would not recommend Mr Minchum to undergo this procedure at this time."

         "Well... if Harold agrees to the request, his consent could legally override your orders," Charlus said as he looked at Minchum expectantly.

         "I... I'm sorry, Charlus," Minchum said weakly. "I don't feel comfortable going against such strongly-worded medical advice right now, especially since I just began my term as Chief Warlock. I don't want to jeopardize my recovery process."

         "But -"

         "There has already been whispers in the Wizengamot to replace me," Minchum interrupted Charlus. "I cannot stay here any longer than strictly necessary. There is a lot I need to accomplish and a lot I need to prove. I simply cannot afford to take this risk."

         "That... that's understandable," the other Auror said. "My family and I are all very excited that you have been elected Chief Warlock. It is as though voices such as ours, a simple Auror Wizarding family without a seat in the Wizengamot, are finally lifted up and being heard for the first time."

         "Thank you for understanding," Minchum said. "It will only be a short wait before she gives me a clean bill of health. Right, Healer Daly?"

         "Of course," Healer Daly said.

         "Excellent! Once she clears me, I will hand over my memory immediately."

         The Aurors nodded in agreement. Then, Charlus turned to the Healer and asked, "Would you excuse us, Healer Daly? We have something confidential to discuss with Mr Minchum."

         The Healer considered the proposition for a brief moment. Glancing at the patient for one more time, she nodded before turning around to leave.

         Turais suddenly realized that, without magic, he had nowhere to hide. He pressed his back against the wall to the right of the door and hoped the Healer turned left instead. The Healer walked out and saw him, but she ignored him and strolled off.

         Not looking at the gift horse in the mouth, Turais turned his attention back to the conversation inside.

         "... there were only three bodies found at the site. However, there was one set of footprints leading away from the warehouse," Charlus said.

         "Then that must be the fourth and final suspect," Minchum said. "He must have also escaped with the Philosopher's Stone, if you said traces of the Stone were found at the warehouse..."

         "... also, the Coroner's Office has identified one of the bodies as Synde. He resisted arrest and died in the subsequent explosion..."

         The voices were suddenly muted as the Privacy Charms were raised.

         Synde, one of the seventh year whom Turais had known was now dead.

         At that moment, Turais only felt sorrow and pity. 

         Perhaps to Voldemort, he was just a replaceable pawn. To Turais, however, it was another young life he couldn't save and was lost needlessly. Turais didn't fully understand why this death struck him into such a state, but all his mind could focus on was how he failed to turn around a person's life.

 

***

 

         "Did you know that Synde was one of the people who was killed in the warehouse?" Turais spoke into the blanket that was covering his kneecaps.

         The knife that was peeling off the apple's skin paused as Orion looked at Turais, "How did you know about that?"

         "I... I overheard the Mediwizards gossiping," Turais lied half-heartedly. "He resisted capture and died in the explosion."

         Orion eyed his son carefully. Then, he waved his hand as the knife and half-peeled apple set down onto the plate. Speaking slowly, he said, "Turais... while I am never pleased to hear of any lives lost, I cannot say I am not relieved. Synde is not an ally of ours." 

         "But he could have lived if he just went to Azkaban! Maybe he could be eligible for parole in the future. Now, what did he get? A life as an convicted criminal and such a gruesome death!"

         "Some would rather die than live out a single year in Azkaban," Orion said quietly.

         Turais looked at Orion's tired expression. At that instant, he saw an older Sirius's face with eyes haunted from the years of horrible solitude.

         "I'm sorry, father," Turais reached out to grip Orion's hand. "I was just in a bit of a downer today."

         "No, no," Orion gave him a small, comforting smile. "You have a valid question. An important question. To you, perhaps, staying alive behind bars is a clear choice. But to others, going to Azkaban does not only represent a life worse than death, but it also means admitting defeat. I know that you have never considered things this way, Turais, but many view the constant evasion of authority as, in a perverse way, an honourable act. This is especially true in our circles where many view themselves as victims against our system of government."

         "That is absurd. We have power, money, prestige, influence... What more do we want? What more can we have?" Turais asked.

         "Everything we don't have," Orion said softly. "Everything others have. Everything on the face of this world."

         Turais looked at Orion in shocked silence.

         "Father..."

         "Greed knows no bound. Wrath knows no bound," Orion continued. "Ambition knows no bound."

         "Father..." Turais's voice faltered as it grew timid. "Do you really believe that?"

         Orion looked back and clasped his hands together, rubbing them nervously. He then stared down at the floor and nodded.

         "Yes, I... I did."

         A little gasp of air escaped Turais's lips.

         "You don't anymore?"

         "No. No, I don't."

         "What changed?"

         Orion looked up at Turais briefly before averting his eyes again wordlessly. Turais released a shaky breath as something suddenly clicked in his mind.

         "Then you're wrong, father," Turais said firmly. "You are wrong that greed, or wrath, or ambition knows no bounds. They do have limits. It is love." 

Notes:

It was a happy coincidence that Kaiden and Michael are finally together on the "Christmas special" update for this fiction. The ending was a bit cheesy, but it is Christmas and I wanted to close off the chapter on an uplifting, hopeful note!

Also, don’t expect me to write anything more “exciting” than chaste kisses because I feel awkward enough writing romantic relationships.

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all next year and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2020-12-22

Chapter 48: Discovered Crimes and Hidden Relations (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

Also, I hope everyone had a Happy new Year and all the best this year!

- ravenclawblues 2021-01-15

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

DISCOVERED CRIMES AND HIDDEN RELATIONS


 

 

         "You know what's strange?" Kaiden said as he unwrapped an aniseed twist with one hand and popped it into his mouth.

         "No. What?" Turais asked, opening the Daily Prophet to the second page, which was focused on the stolen Philosopher's Stone. The third page was on Wildfyre, and the fourth was on his bibliography. One would assume that there were other issues more news-worthy by now other than his serendipitous intervention at the warehouse explosion, but that was clearly not the case.

         "I just feel invincible... like I can take on all the problems in the world!"

         "That's called being in the honeymoon phase, Kaiden. Congratulations, you're in love."

         "No..." Kaiden spluttered. Without looking, Turais knew the red flush that was indeed on his face now. "No... It's not! That is not the reason."

         "Don't worry. It will fade away."

         "I'm not worried!"

         "If you say so," Turais teased, turning his attention back to the newspaper. On the fifth page, the reporter, Andy Smudgley, had reconstructed an official timeline of the sequences of events according to the Auror reports.

10 Minutes of Terror

12:30pm - Witnesses at Hog's Head pub see Chief Warlock, Harold Minchum, walking towards the site of the explosion. At the same time, Auror Office receives a distress signal and dispatches an initial team of 5 Aurors to the location.

12:32pm - The Auror Office receives a second distress signal.

12:33pm - Shouts can be heard from within the structure as a duel occurs, according to one witness. Meanwhile, the Aurors arrive at the site.

12:34pm - A bright flash followed by sprays of smaller flashes can be seen by several witnesses nearby. Pyro-Potioneers said that the bright flash could be a spell striking the Wildfyre. The subsequent smaller flashes were likely from burning, high-temperature compounds commonly found in alchemical explosives igniting.

12:35pm (less than a minute later) - A second larger and more devastating blast occurs as the Wildfyre detonates, producing a brilliant neon-green flash as the explosion creates a shock wave. Seconds after, the hemispherical shock wave, which moves faster than the speed of sound, ripples through Hogsmeade, shattering windows and glasses. A maroon fireball, a colour uniquely derived from combusting powders of the Philosopher's Stone, expands outwards before being halted. The explosion can be heard throughout Hogsmeade and also on parts of the Hogwarts grounds.

12:38pm - The initial team of Auror attempts to contain the explosion while additional back-up arrives.

12:40pm - The Aurors successfully contain the explosion as the first patients arrive at St. Mungo's.

         Turais looked at the first two entries and frowned. He knew he was the only one who sent the Auror distress signal as he would have definitely noticed a huge, red spark in the skies.

         "This doesn't make any sense," Turais muttered to himself.

         Then, he also recalled what he saw in his visions. In the old timeline where he did not exist, Charlus and the Aurors also arrived at the site without his intervention. That meant someone else, besides Turais, had somehow notified the Aurors to arrive at the location.

         "What doesn't make sense?"

         Turais tried to explain his thoughts.

         "Do you understand what I'm saying?" Turais asked after finishing. Kaiden held up a finger and closed his eyes.

         "I'm twigging," Kaiden said. "Just give me a minute." There was a moment of silence before he opened his eyes and slumped his shoulder. "Nope, the answer escaped me."

         "Looks like someone's not following his father's footsteps," Turais sighed when he felt a punch from the offended boy. Folding the newspaper, he continued, "It's probably me being paranoid. I might be going mad after reading the same story over and over and over again for the past two weeks."

         "Then stop reading it. Information overdose is very real," Kaiden said as he popped another sweet into his mouth. "Heightens anxiety."

         Turais placed the newspaper on the bedside table and slumped onto his seat. Closing his eyes, he squeezed the bridge of his nose and stretched his arms before he left them hanging by his sides. "Sugar overdose is very real too. I can see your muscles going soft and your belly growing larger."

          "Remind me why we are friends again?" Turais could hear the scowl in Kaiden's voice.

          "Beats me."

         He anticipated an annoyed retort from Kaiden but didn't receive one, surprisingly. Listening to the silence in the room, something suddenly struck Turais as odd. Not only was Kaiden's voice absent, there was no ambient background noises at all. In the middle of the day of the bustling London, there wasn't a single honk from cars nor distant chatter of pedesterians. Turais opened his eyes and realized that his movements had turned sluggish. The sensation was similar to what he went through during the warehouse explosion. Finally tilting his head high enough, he saw Kaiden's animated expression, and his mouth partly opened as if he paused mid-phrase. Turais tried to stand up and found it as if the air had become molasses, fighting against his movement at every angle and every turn. He made his way to the window with immense difficulty and saw the city as if it was a picture still. Smoke from chimneys was suspended into columns of air. Tiny dots of snow were fixed in place like specks of dust on the glass panel.

         The pause in time was much longer than the last one he experienced.

         "Minchum," Turais breathed out just as everything in the world returned to normal.

         "You're lucky that I like you enough to put up with your behavio-" Kaiden's voice blared out. Turais looked back to see the confused boy pointing between him and the chair he previously occupied. " - Wait, how did you get from here to there... Am I going mental or what?"

         "What are you harping on about?" Turais feigned. "Is it the Potions?"

         "No, it's not the potions, Turais," Kaiden protested. 

         "Well, I just remembered that there is somewhere I need to be," Turais said as he reached for the door. "I'll come back later."

         "Come back! I was only joking about you being rude!" Kaiden shouted as the door closed behind Turais.

         A gut instinct told Turais that something terrible might be happening to the players involved in the warehouse explosion. If it was not targeted against him, the likeliest victim must be Harold Minchum since he was the case's key witness.

         Turais climbed up the floors and headed towards Mr Minchum's room when he saw Healer Daly emerge from the door that led to the emergency staircase with an elegant wooden box in her hands. Striking him as suspicious behaviour, Turais paused in his step and hid behind a column to observe her in the distance. 

         "Oh Healer Daly, I -" a Mediwizard called out as she walked past the Mediwizard station.

         "I have something important to do right now, Parker," the Healer said stiffly as she rounded the corner without stopping.

         "Oh... okay..."

         Confused, the Mediwizard sat down in his chair and started whispering to his neighbor.

         "Healer Daly is acting quite unusual these days, isn't she?" Parker hissed, just as another Mediwitch walked up from another hallway.

         "My patient is missing. Again," she announced. Reaching over the counter, she pressed something and spoke into it, "Healer Daly, this is Mediwitch Fonda. Please tell Mr McLaggen we will be forced to restrain him to his bed if he goes missing again. Thank you."

         There was a slight static shift before a voice said, "Noted."

         "He's one of those," Fonda said with a roll of her eyes. "I heard Healer Selwyn has one as well. The Black child seems incapable of staying in his room."

         "Well, he only has magical exhaustion, so physical exertion is less of an issue compared to an almost-lethal poisoning," Carl came into view. "But I don't want to hear the three of you gossiping about patients here. It is unprofessional."

         "Of course, Healer Selwyn," Parker said somberly. "But we do want to ask you about Healer Daly. Don't you think she is not like her normal self?"

         "What do you mean?" Carl asked.

         "I don't know... it's just a feeling," Parker said. "She just called me by my last name... and she never does that."

         "Maybe it is just a Freudian slip," Carl said. Knocking on the counter, he said, "Now stop the chatter and let's get back to work."

         "Of course," Parker said readily. "Oh, and also, here is your tea."

         "Thank you for this," Carl said as he walked off. Once he was out of earshot, the two Mediwizards started gossiping once again.

         "Did you see who dropped off this box? Healer Daly cleared it, it says..." Turais heard Fonda ask as he crouched down and darted around the Mediwizard Station towards Minchum's room. He found Healer Daly exiting Minchum's room with a few documents in her hand and nodded at her, only for her to ignore him and stroll off.

         "Mr Minchum?" Turais whispered as he slipped into the room. There was no response except for the sound of quill tips scratching against parchments.

         "Healer Daly let you get away with working?" Turais commented casually as he settled into a seat beside Minchum's bed. Secretly, he sighed a breath of relief.

         Stacks of paper and boxes on the floor that reached up to Turais' shoulder surrounded the man. The over-bed table was now acting as a work desk as two Self-Writing quills sailed across pieces of parchment furiously while dunking themselves in the inkpot and creating tiny splashes intermittently. Minchum, wearing his golden-rimmed reading glasses, raised a finger as his eyes traveled down the book levitating in front of him. Suddenly, his concentration broke as a wave of cough overcame him.

         "Oh, Mr Black, you're back," Minchum said as he took his glasses off and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. The books snapped shut as all the parchments shuffled themselves into two neat piles. "Sorry, I was just in the middle of something. Are you here for a visit or..."

         He tilted his head slightly as Turais snapped his gaze from the tiny potted plant, which was uncurling slightly on the bedside table, back to the man. "Oh, yeah, just a regular visit."

         "Well, you came at the perfect time..." Minchum reached down the side and pulled out some papers haphazardly from the middle of a stack and handed it to Turais. "... Here you go."

         He saw the title that read, "Potions for Underprivileged Persons Subsidy (PUPS) Act” and a dedication to him before flipping through a document with many familiar sentences. Noticing Minchum's expectant stare, Turais asked, "Uh... is this the Wolfsbane legislation?"

         "Yes," Minchum said excitedly. "My aide finished the final draft and delivered it to me today. Once I finish reviewing it, we will finally be introducing it to the Wizengamot tomorrow."

         "You're being discharged tomorrow?"

         "Healer Daly just signed the papers. Didn't you see her on her way out?" Minchum said with an excited smile on his face. "Well, back to our bill. You see... we did not necessarily name the Wolfsbane Potion explicitly in the bill. Still, your Potion will qualify for it as Werewolves are already designated as an Underprivileged Persons in previous statutes."

         "That's exciting," Turais said with a grin. "But I still think you should be resting first, especially since you are jumping back into work tomorrow." 

         "More the reason why I should work harder to prepare for it. I have missed a lot in the past two weeks," Minchum said.

         "I doubt the Healers approve of this."

         "Well... I'm not very good at following instructions, it seems."

         "That makes the two of us," Turais said as he found a pink envelope wedged in between two pages. "What is this?"

         Flipping to the front, he noticed a messy crawl that spelt, "To my dearest friend, Harold Minchum. From, the one and only Tiberius."

         Minchum took a look and chuckled, "Oh, this is where his get-well card went. I couldn't find it for the longest time."

         "Is this his writing?" Turais asked, handing everything back to the man. His eyes lingered on the envelope. Something nudged the back of his mind, although Turais did not know what.

         "What do you mean?" Minchum asked with a frown.

         "I suppose... I was expecting some snobbery in his penmanship style. Cursive writing with fancy loops and tails, or something of that kind," Turais shrugged.

         Something shifted in Minchum's eyes as he pulled out the letter. Humming thoughtfully, he said, "It is quite strange... now that you mention it... not that I had the chance to analyze his writing that deeply before." He tilted it for Turais to read, and Turais' eyes drifted to the misspelt word just as there was a knock on the door.

         "Come in," Minchum said as Charlus walked in. Duncan, the other Auror, stepped in after it. "Oh, what brings you here, Charlus? And Duncan?"

         Charlus's eyes found Turais as he said, "You're here as well, Turais. I was in the area and decided to visit my son."

         "Ah, of course. How is he faring?"

         "He's making improvements," Charlus said simply. "Ah, Turais, do you mind visiting Harold later? I have something I wish to discuss with him."

         However, Turais did not hear him as he was still fixated on the particular word on the page.

         "Are you feeling alright, Mr Black?" Minchum's voice shook him from his stupor. 

         "I... I... yeah," Turais smiled. "Just had a strange thought. I... I will head back now. Take care."

         "Oh, of course," Turais said. 

         "Oh... alright," Minchum said with uncertainty. "Are you certain?"

         "Yes, definitely," Turais said distractedly before leaving the room. However, he glued himself close to the door to eavesdrop on the conversation.

         "Harold, can we extract your memory?" Charlus's voice asked.

         "But Healer Daly said -"

         "I don't care what Healer Daly has to say. You must do the right thing here and now," Charlus said. "Three people were incinerated, my son practically lost an arm, and the rest of us almost lost our lives! We must know the truth! It is simply too dangerous for you to delay us any further."

         "The Healers have said consistently that my memory has been damaged," Minchum said with slight exasperation. "Charlus, you knew that the memory could have been fragmented, but you still asked for it anyway. I understand your frustration. It has been a traumatic experience for all of us, but please be rational about it."

         "I am trying to be patient, Harold," Charlus said. "I really am. But if you are set in your ways, I will be forced to bring you in for obstruction of justice."

         "I can't force myself to remember memories that have been damaged. This is not how it works, Charlus. I promise I will hand over my memory when the Healer approves of such a procedure -"

         "Harold -"

         "Charlus, I am the one trying to be patient here. But just like how you cannot force Kaiden's arm to be able to play Quidditch again, you cannot force my memories to reassemble themselves. Once something is damaged beyond repair, it cannot be fixed."

         The temperature in the room dropped as Duncan said weakly, "Harold, that was unnecessary."

         "I would apologize for being tactless, but that is the truth."

         "Who are you trying to protect by omitting parts of your memory?" Charlus asked, evidently controlling the volume of his voice.

         Minchum fell silent and refused to answer.

         "Harold, I sincerely believe you did nothing wrong in the Wildfyre explosion, but we all know you are hiding something. It is also not worth risking your entire career and life's work for whoever you are trying to hide. If that person is blackmailing you, we can help."

         "I don't need your help, Charlus," Minchum said sharply. "Please trust me on this. I have my reasons."

         "But you have to understand that it is very difficult for me to trust you right now. And your actions are not making this any easier." Minchum stayed silent as Charlus heaved a sigh. "I will be back tomorrow morning before you are officially discharged with an arrest warrant. Please think carefully about what you want to do." 

         Turais fled from the site as he pondered on Charlus's words. If Minchum were somehow implicated in all this, everything would have made so much more sense. He was the one who traveled to the warehouse; he was also the only witness of what happened inside the warehouse; he was also the sole survivor besides the "fourth person" he claimed to have escaped...

         He was the linchpin in the entire event.

         Also, when Minchum had the opportunity, he cast an anti-Apparition ward instead of an Auror distress signal. That decision was questionable as well, which meant that he was either hiding something or was complicit in some way.

         But complicit or innocent, there must have been a conspirator besides Minchum who wrote the letters that led Turais and Minchum to the warehouse.

         That was actually the crucial piece of the puzzle which initiated the entire event.

         Suddenly, he was hit by a revelation. A mental image of the letter he received during the Quidditch talent scout session, which felt like years ago, floated to the surface of his mind. 'We must seize this chance before we loose it,' he recalled the last sentence of that letter. Turais' eyes widened as the implications finally struck him.

         Turning around, he sprinted back to Mr Minchum's room, only to find the room empty. He immediately dashed towards the Floo lobby.

         "Charlus!" Turais shouted as the man stepped into the fireplace. "Charlus!"

         "What is it, Turais?" The man asked as Turais stopped in front of him, trying to catch his breath.

         "Do you have an analysis... of the two letters written to Mr Minchum... '' Turais panted, "...and... and I?"

         "I can't disclose this information -"

         Turais waved his hand.

         "No, no... I just want you to run a comparison test between them and Tiberius McLaggen's magical signature."

         Charlus frowned. "Why?"

         "I... I think... he is implicated in the warehouse explosion," Turais explained. "I just saw McLaggen's writing in his get-well card to Mr Minchum. It is identical to the one used in the letter for me. I am willing to bet it is the same for the letter Mr Minchum received as well."

         Charlus scratched his chin, considering before he spoke to Duncan. "Let's go back to Harold's room and take the get-well card as evidence. There's no harm in running an extra check. I will also call for more back-up to keep an eye on McLaggen as well."

         Turais hoped for the same silently. As the Aurors double-backed to Minchum's room,  Turais decided to visit McLaggen's room when he heard Minchum's voice from within.

         "- have to confess your crimes, Tiberius," Minchum whispered pleadingly. "I will not take the fall for you."

         "I don't know what you are talking about, Harold."

         "I know you wrote the two letters to Turais and me," Minchum said. "Turais Black has also noticed this and he likely told the Aurors about it. They likely are confiscating your get-well card as we speak. Soon, they will finish comparing the magical signatures between your writings and you will be arrested. Your time is running out and you better come with me and turn yourself in. They will likely take that into consideration and reduce -"

         "No," McLaggen spat. "That will not happen. You promised -"

         "Do not use my promise to your father against me!" Minchum whispered harshly. "I only promised him to look after you, not to help you get away with illegal Potions trafficking! I have given you more than enough chances to do the right thing. It has been more than a week, Tiberius, since I woke up from my coma, and you still think you are somehow lucky not to be suspected?"

         "Well, if you tell the Aurors now," there was a smile in McLaggen's voice, "They will suspect you of conspiring with me if they haven't already."

         "I have clearly made a mistake," Minchum said sadly. "When the Aurors come back later today, I will tell them everything, including how I withheld information hoping that you would see the errors of your ways and confess your crimes. If they investigate me and decide that I have committed perjury, I will accept all of my responsibilities."

         Turais heard as Minchum turned to leave. Before Minchum reached the exit, McLaggen's voice spoke out.

         "No," his voice sounded low and dangerous and seething with rage. "No, you will not get the chance to do so. Avada - "

         Turais jumped out of the shadows just as there was a loud bang. A moment later, McLaggen shouted out in agony. Turais saw Minchum standing with a trembling wand trained on the Incarcerated McLaggen.

         "Did you..." Minchum asked shakily. "Did you... just try to kill me?"

         Gone was the man with impeccable manners and a spotless but exuberate appearance. In its place was an unrecognizable McLaggen with his murderous eyes burning in cold fury and an almost diabolical sneer curling on his thin lips. Minchum carefully kicked McLaggen's wand away as the man struggled against his restraints. The man's eyes flickered towards the wand tip that was trained to his face, then Turais, before looking back up at Minchum's face. Then, he started to giggle maniacally before it turned into a peal of taunting laughter.

         "Why do you look so surprised?" McLaggen leered. "You're not the first person that I would have killed successfully."

         "What... what do you mean?" Minchum asked, his voice fearful and wavering.

         McLaggen laughed again before he glared at Minchum hatefully. "You should have died months ago. You should have just eaten the scone."

         Minchum's eyes widened. "You… you were behind all the murders?"

         "Oh, I do love the surprised looks on your faces," McLaggen chuckled. "Why? Do I not look like a serial killer?"

         "What? But... why?!" Minchum gasped. "Why did you do this, Tiberius?"

         "Why? For power?!" McLaggen screamed as his bugged-out eyes darted around crazily. "Everything about the Ministry is broken. Something radical must change! And I had the means to do so, therefore, I seized my rightful opportunity to do as such. And everything was perfect… Everyone was suspicious of the Malfoys, and no one paid a single bit of attention to me. And I was so close… but you. I was unable to kill you."

         "I've observed you, Harold," McLaggen continued softly. "You are the only person who orders the blueberry scones at the café, every day without fail. How mundane! I also know the owner bakes and reserves them for you specifically… so I added a little something special to it that day…"

         "But… but you ate the scone yourself," Minchum said. "You would have died if I didn't get you the bezoar."

         McLaggen laughed again. "I would have lived without your bezoar. I drank the antidote beforehand."

         "You were comatose ever since! You couldn't have faked it… unless… unless…" Minchum paused before breathing out the answer brokenly, "Healer Daly."

         "Yes…" McLaggen said, now still with his eyes fixed at a point on the blank wall. "I placed her under an Imperius … still gave her a bit of free will but made sure she lied for me… She was a brilliant Healer if not a bit weak-minded, but that's a good combination for my purpose… she served me well..."

         "Were you using her to spy on me?"

         McLaggen turned his head and looked at Minchum hollowly. 

         "No," he whispered. "No, no, no. You're mistaken. I was using her first to make sure you did not reveal anything to the Aurors... but then that became too dangerous for me... so I ordered her to poison you. But her mind resisted so valiantly… then I thought of a way around it...

         "I was going to make her give you a present! A beautiful cutting of a Devil's Snare… but she won't be able to tell the difference between that and a perfectly innocent Flitterbloom. Then, when you are asleep, its tendrils will reach for your throat and strangle the life out of you."

         "The get-well gift from my supporter," Minchum said in realization as Turais thought back to the shriveling plant by Minchum's bed. "You're a monster!"

         "Am I now?" McLaggen blinked his eyes innocently. "I think we are both quite similar. We are both ambitious. We both aspire to reach a higher office. We just do things… differently… but the final results are always the only thing that matters."

         "No!" Minchum shouted furiously. "Do not compare yourself to me! I should have identified you to the Aurors... my leniency was my only mistake."

         "Why are you holding yourself back?" McLaggen continued. "Why are you putting all these restrictions upon yourself? The others aren't playing according to the rules. Why should we?"

         "Lies," Minchum's voice quivered. "I will not listen to your poisonous words."

         "Lies or truth, what's the difference? The truth has always been what people wanted to believe is true."

         "Are you aligned with the Knights?! The terrorist?!"

         "Whoever grants me a way to reach the top office and enact change, I will take it," McLaggen said calmly. "The Knights are just people who believe in something as strongly as you do. The only difference is what you choose to believe in -"

         "But they are murderers, thieves, liars!" Minchum shouted as he Silenced the man. Breathing heavily for several moments, he asked, "Now, where is the Philosopher's Stone?" The man merely smiled up at Minchum treacherously. Minchum walked over to McLaggen's bed, overturned the blankets and mattresses, opened every drawer, and found nothing. "Where is the Philosopher's Stone?!"

         Minchum released the man from the charm.

         "It was stolen -"

         "When?!" Minchum shouted out as Charlus and Duncan came into view with several Aurors behind them. "Where did you hide the Stone, and who else is supporting you?"

         "Can't believe I did this all within my own power? You underestimate me, Harold!" McLaggen said before laughing tauntingly. "You're wrong, so utterly and pitifully wrong!"

         Minchum shook his head in disbelief as he sheathed his wand. Stepping back, he said to Charlus with a shaky voice, "McLaggen confessed that he was the culprit behind all the murders in the Ministry. He was also the one who lured Mr Black and me to the warehouse. I have the recording on my wand."

         "Mr Tiberius McLaggen, I am Deputy Head Auror Potter, and you are under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and illegal potions trafficking," Charlus announced as an arrest warrant flew out from his inner robe pocket. "You will be placed in the Ministry Holding Cell for further investigation and until your trial appearance. You do not have to say anything. It may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do may be given in evidence."

         McLaggen laid on the floor silently as two Aurors heaved him up.

         "Take him away," Charlus ordered as they watched McLaggen disappear down the corridor.

         "Here's my wand," Minchum handed Charlus his wand. "Do you have my arrest warrant too?"

         "I do..." Charlus said. "But I would like you to first tell me the truth. The entire truth without any omissions."

         "Of course..." Minchum said as he sat down on McLaggen's bed. "I received the letter that was supposedly from Mr Black to meet at Hog's Head. However, I should have noticed it was McLaggen's handwriting, but at that time, I did not realize the significance. I arrived at Hog's Head and identified the distinctive scent of the Wildfyre, so I pursued it to the warehouse where I found a large cache of those substances. I ventured further into the warehouse and saw three people working in a Potions laboratory. I tripped the Caterwauling Charm and they were alerted of my presence so I tried to escape. Everything I said before was the truth."

         Minchum closed his eyes and breathed out heavily before continuing, as if he was recalling some painful memory, "Everything but the fact that when I reached the exit, I came face-to-face with Tiberius, who was returning to the warehouse. The moment he saw me, he turned tail and fled. I cast an anti-Apparition ward and tried to prevent him from escaping but my attackers started to fire at me."

         "I knew if a single stray shot struck any of the barrels, the entire warehouse would become an inferno. Therefore, I gave up my chase after Tiberius and transfigured a cocoon of limestone to encase myself instead. And the rest... well... you know it all."

         "So you delayed handing over your memory because you were trying to protect Mr McLaggen's identity?" Charlus asked gently.

         "I... yes," Minchum said bitterly. "I admit that I took advantage of the fact that the Healer discouraged extracting my memory to stall for time but I never, ever lied for him. I just thought that maybe Tiberius will see the errors of his way. But never... never in my wildest dreams did I think he even Imperius-ed the Healer to monitor and murder me."

         "Is there anything else you would like to add?" Charlus asked. Minchum fell silent for a moment before shaking his head slowly.  "Then I have a follow-up question for you. Did you send the first Auror distress signal?"

         "No," Minchum shook his head. "I didn't have time. As I said, I cast the anti-Apparition ward and they started to fire curses at me. I had no time to cast the distress signal, but I should've."

         "Then who sent the first distress signal if Turais sent the second one?" Charlus asked himself.

         Turais had the same question. Neither the three dead Death Eaters nor McLaggen would have any incentive in doing so. Minchum had no reason to lie about this either. And according to the timeline, no one would have any reason to lead the Aurors to an illegal arms factory... unless... they were deliberately lured there for a specific reason.

         But for what reason though? And was someone targeting Charlus or was it just pure unluckiness?

         Turais had no clear answers.

         "But you were right, Charlus," Minchum said. "I suppose it was an obstruction of justice in some way, and if the Auror Offices ultimately decide to press charges, I have no plausible defense."

         There was a long pause before Charlus sighed.

         "Actually you do," Charlus said quietly as another arrest warrant flew out of his inner pocket. "Your confession is the only admissible evidence we have of how you tried to prevent us from accessing your complete memory. As Healer Daly was under the Imperius Curse, her words and memories would not be admissible as evidence. Therefore, under the corpus delicti principle, we cannot charge you of a crime purely based on your own admission. Furthermore, you never lied to us explicitly, therefore... I think this is now obsolete. Incendio. "

         Charlus tapped his wand on the parchment which started to burn as the edges curled into itself until it all turned into ashes.

         "Charlus, I -" Minchum said, shocked.

         "That doesn't mean this is the end of the matter," Charlus warned. "If you submit your complete, unaltered memory now, I can pretend you did, indeed, lose your memory for the past two weeks and have just remembered everything today."

         "I... I understand," Minchum said tiredly. "Thank you, Charlus. I... I just thought I was doing a favour for both him and I. His father placed him in my care and I just... I just wanted to give him one last chance to do the right thing."

         "Betrayal by a close friend hurts the most," Charlus said grimly. Then, he placed a hand on Minchum's shoulder, "I'm disappointed that you withheld knowledge, despite your good intention. However, I am relieved to know that my trust was ultimately not misplaced."

         "Thank you, Charlus. I will cooperate with anything you need from me, but you must find out where the Philosopher's Stone is from him," Minchum said worriedly. "Also, despite his insistence, there must be something larger, more sinister, that is operating beyond him. What were they planning to use the Wildfyre for, and are there more caches stored elsewhere?"

         "If he knows anything, we will find out," Charlus promised. "This is just the beginning of our investigation. We will get to the root of it all."

         Turais was glad that this turbulent chapter came to a close with the culprit taken into custody. However, beneath his immediate sense of relief was a growing sense of doubt. Everything was resolved too easily; the explanations were too straightforward; the most crucial questions were still left unanswered, as Minchum pointed out.

 

***

 

         Turais was finally allowed to return to Hogwarts despite Orion's impassioned protest. However, his magic was deemed to have returned to baseline levels so there was no reason to prescribe a longer hospital stay. Turais was pleased with the timing of it all as he had learnt all he possibly could about the case. Now, Turais wanted to return to the site of the warehouse explosion and his return to Hogwarts provided the perfect opportunity to do so. His intention was not to investigate the case, instead, he wanted to see whether there were any traces of a time-manipulating device. And this was something that the Aurors could not possibly achieve.

         Turais quickly finished settling into the familiar Slytherin dormitory and was about to head for Hogsmeade when he saw the dormitory door slam open with Jonty rushing in. "Turais!" 

         Jonty ran up to him and clutched his shoulders tightly, "The explosion was the scariest thing I've seen in my entire life. I thought I had seen you alive for the last time."

         "I'm alive and well, as you can clearly see," Turais chuckled. Over Jonty's shoulder, Turais could see Alex rooted in his place a few metres away. He was looking at Turais unblinkingly as if he was in a state of shock.

         "You must stop having near-death experiences," Jonty continued as he stepped back. "You're not a sodding Gryffindor. Stop fighting with them for the bravery bit."

         Turais nodded distractedly before walking towards Alex.

         "Hey," he said softly.

         "Hey."

         They eyed each other for a long awkward moment.

         "You know you're in a lot of trouble, right?" Alex's voice wavered for a little bit.

         "Yeah, I know," Turais said, averting his gaze guiltily.

         "You should also know you frightened the life out of us by the stunt you pulled."

         "I'm really sorry that I scared all of you, but I can't be sorry about potentially saving people's lives."

         Alex nodded as he gave Turais a tight hug.

         "That's the best promise we will ever get out of you," Alex said while stepping back.

         "How... how is Kaiden?" Jonty asked awkwardly.

         "He... he is recovering," Turais said delicately, knowing that guilt must have been gnawing at the boy's consciousness since that fateful day.

         "I... I heard that his right arm is crippled..."

         "I... yes..."

         "It's all my fault, isn't it?" Jonty muttered. "My big fat mouth that would not learn to shut up."

         "This is not any single person's fault and you must not head down this rabbit hole," Turais said. "No one, not even Kaiden, blames you either. And if you think about it, if you didn't chase after them, I wouldn't have seen you and I wouldn't have been able to save them."

         "How were you able to do it though?" Jonty asked softly. "Containing an explosion. That's practically unheard of."

         "I suppose people can do incredible feats in a life-or-death situation," Turais said lamely.

         "And you find yourself in too many of those situations," Alex sighed tiredly. There was a sense of resignation that made Turais squirm in his skin. "Have you spoken to Sirius yet?"

         "No, I haven't. I will find him afterwards. I have something incredibly important to do."

         "No, you do not," Alex said firmly with a glint in his eyes. "You need to find him first, he missed you a lot while you were away."

         "But-"

         "No buts," Alex insisted. "You need to go immediately ."

         Turais checked his watch and noted that he had enough time to do one or the other. But at Alex's strong repudiation, Turais sighed and walked up to the Gryffindor tower. Remembering that the Fat Lady was still livid that he managed to set foot in the Gryffindor common room twice, Turais hid around the corner of the staircase and waved a surprised Gryffindor student over as he exited the portrait hole.

         "Can you pass on a word to my brother for me?" Turais asked the awe-struck boy who was looking up at him as if he was a celebrity.

         "Of course!" the boy asked eagerly. "My name is Christopher Broomwright, by the way!"

         "Hey, Christopher," Turais said, slightly taken aback. "Please ask him to come out for a moment, if you wouldn't mind."

         "Consider it done! Anything else you need?"

         "Nope, that's all. Thanks for the help."

         "Anytime!"

         The boy darted back and in a few moments, several footsteps ran hurriedly towards him.

         "Turais!" Sirius shouted in delight. He jumped up and clinged onto Turais, almost causing Turais to tip over at the sudden impact. "I haven't seen you in so long!"

         "Hey, Siri," Turais said gently, petting his brother's soft hair. "Long time no see." 

         Looking behind his brother, Turais could see James and Remus looking at him with wide grins on their faces.

         "You're all fine now, right?" Sirius mumbled.

         "Of course."

         "Then why have they kept you at the hospital for so long then?" Sirius accused when Turais noticed his brother's body started to tremble.

         "You know how the Healers are. I only had magical exhaustion but they wanted to make sure that I had my magic back before I was discharged. But I was not in any danger- ouch! "

         Suddenly, he received a sharp punch in the stomach. Bewildered, he released Sirius only to find him with teary eyes, trembling lips, and a livid expression. Then, Sirius started to hit him in the arms multiple times before starting to kick him as well. James and Remus looked quite shocked as well, unsure of whether they should step in.

         "Sirius," Turais shouted as he blocked the barrage of wild swings and kicks. Sirius finally stopped and stared at him, panting heavily. "What are you doing, Sirius-"

         Sirius launched himself at Turais, who collected his brother amidst a completely confused state.

         "I hate you, Turais," Sirius shouted into his robes wetly. "I really, really hate you right now."

         "I'm sorry -"

         "You almost killed my one and only big and best-est brother! And you want to get away with one sorry?!"

         Sirius started to sob as Turais felt pin-pricks at the back of his eyes.

         "I... you are right..." Turais said, tugging Sirius in tighter. "So, please tell me how can I remedy this?"

         There was a long pause, then Sirius mumbled wetly, "I haven't really thought about it." Turais couldn't help but chuckle as Sirius punched him in the shoulder weakly. "Don't laugh."

         Turais sobered up at once and said with utmost sincerity, "I'm sorry I worried you, Siri."

         "You better be. I only know that I am still very mad at you," Sirius huffed as he wiped his face with his sleeves. "Relieved but very mad. I also hate you for making me cry as well. This is all your fault."

         "I'm sorry," Turais said.

         "You owe me something for this," Sirius sniffed, crossed his arms, and looked away defiantly. "I don't know what it is but I will tell you when I do."

         Turais nodded meekly as Sirius continued his defensive stance, brooding silently. Meanwhile, James and Remus looked between the brothers trying to gauge whether it was safe to join the conversation.

         "So... Turais..." James raised his hand and said cautiously, "... how does it feel like to able to skive off so many classes?" Remus nudged his friend disapprovingly. "What?! I'm actually curious! I'm sure none of you would mind missing a few of Binns's classes."

         Remus placed a hand on his forehead and sighed. "Is this the first thing that came to your mind out of this entire situation? Skipping classes?"

         "I mean... the bad people were burnt to a crisp and the good people lived. End of story," James frowned. "Sirius has his brother back so happy endings all around! Actually, that reminds me -"

         James drew himself up to full height and asked with an air of mock authoritativeness. "So, do you happen to know what the word Dissendium does?"

         Turais flinched slightly at the word. That was not what he expected the conversation to turn.

         Remus slapped his hand on his forehand once again and mumbled, "Not this again."

         "Where did you come across this word?" asked Turais.

         "Peeves."

         "Peeves? " Turais repeated incredulously.

         "He mentioned it during a little chat we were having," James said matter-of-factly. 

         "How did you manage to do that?" Turais gasped. "I thought he would have pranked you six ways to ten year-round detentions before that was possible."

         "We have - someone might call - a synergistic relationship," James said smugly with a mischievous smirk. "Anyhow, he mentioned it... but he hasn't used it for centuries and has forgot what it was for. But do you have any idea what it is supposed to do? I tried to search through all the spellbooks but I couldn't find anything on the matter."

         "Well..." Turais said carefully. "Maybe look into the Latin origin of the word for some hints?"

         "I did... but I couldn't find anything substantial," James pouted. "I just thought you would know something."

         "He has been spending all his spare time yelling the word at everything," Remus added. "It hasn't yielded any results so far except for driving Sirius and me mad."

         "That's because he reckons it must be a passcode for some sort of secret passage or room," Sirius added with a roll of his eyes, finally joining the conversation once more.

         James was just one crucial piece of information away from discovering the secret of the One-eyed Witch.

         "Well," Turais coughed. "Good luck with the search then."

         "You really don't know anything about it?" James squinted as he looked at Turais' face suspiciously.

         "Nope."

         Turais mustered the most stoic expression possible as James watched closely. Finally, he let off a disappointed sigh and said, "Fine, then. I just thought you, of all people, would know something about it... Pretend I didn't ask anything."

         Turais nodded awkwardly before saying, "Well, I guess I'll see you around then." Walking up and placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, he said, "Siri, I'll see you around."

         Turais turned to walk away when he heard hurried footsteps chasing after him. It was Sirius, who stopped an arm's length away, and asked quietly, "Uh... so are you joining us on the Gryffindor side tomorrow?" Sirius asked quietly.

         "What is happening tomorrow?" Turais asked, genuinely clueless.

         "It's the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match..." Sirius mumbled. ".... But you don't have to join us if you are busy."

         Since entire school would be at the Quidditch Pitch, Turais realized this was the best chance to escape to Hogsmeade undetected. However, he glanced at Sirius' hopefully expression and relented.

         "Of course I'll be there, Siri," Turais said with a smile, ruffling his brother's hair.

         A brilliant smile shone on Sirius's face when he heard the answer.

         "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow then!" Sirius shouted as he darted back to his friends.

         "See you," Turais shouted back before walking away with a smile on his face.

 

***

 

         "GO GRYFFINDOR!" James screamed jubilantly as the Gryffindor team scored yet another goal during the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match.

         Even with a Quidditch match occurring before their eyes, Turais could feel the less-than-subtle glances and whispers from the nearby students directly at the boy who occupied the front page of newspapers for weeks. Turais wanted to leave badly, both to escape the attention and to investigate the warehouse in Hogsmeade, but knew that Sirius would be disappointed.

         With half of his mind distracted by questions about the explosion, he found himself barely focusing on the match itself. Taking a glance at the scoreboard, however, showed that the Gryffindors had a healthy lead and were in a strong position to emerge victorious.

         There was a sudden, urgent pat on his shoulder. Turais turned his head to see Andromeda looking at him.

         "Can I have a word with you?" she asked.

         "Oh, of course," replied Turais. "Now?"

         "Not here," Andromeda mouthed as her voice was drowned out by another wave of raucous shouts. She motioned for Turais to follow her.

         "I'm going to talk with cousin Andromeda," Turais shouted into Sirius' ear and his brother merely nodded with his eyes fixated on the game. 

         Making his way through the crowd, he descended the stairs to find Andromeda pacing in the wooden hallway.

         "What is the matter?" Turais asked.

         "Let's walk," Andromeda said as she awkwardly raised her arm and gestured towards the exit. There was a sense of nervousness and fear that Turais detected in her fidgety motions as they wandered through the wooden structure. Faint lights seeped through the gaps between planks as the distant roars of animated students ebbed and flowed along with the changing tides of the match.

         They walked side-by-side for few minutes in stilted silence.

         "I’m pregnant," she said.

         Turais whipped his head around and looked at Andromeda in utter shock. However, that only lasted for a split second when he remembered Nymphadora Tonks's age and figured that she was conceived around this time if she was to be born in late 1972.

         "Oh," Turais nodded to himself when everything suddenly made perfect sense.

         Andromeda's fearful expression partially turned into confusion. Taking in a shaky breath, she said, "I... I thought you would react more - I don't know - violently?"

         "I..." Turais paused as he decided not to dig himself a deeper hole. "I... think you are feeling very anxious right now and I don't want to... add to your stress. Also, thank you for telling me, it must have been a very difficult decision to make."

         He saw her shoulder slump as she leant against a column. Tears started to well up in her eyes as she choked out the words, "I... I don't know what to do... I don't know who... who to turn to... you're the only person I trust to keep this secret and... and you were at St. Mungo’s..."

         "I am here now,” Turais whispered soothingly. “And I promise to not tell a soul. It's going to be alright.”

         "You know that's not true," Andromeda said, her eyes glistening with angry tears. "My life has just turned upside-down."

         "It did," Turais agreed. "But that doesn't mean things would not turn out fine. Have you told Ted about the child?"

         "I haven't had the chance..." Andromeda stopped as her eyes narrowed. "How did you know it was him?"

         "You had a pretty big row with your sister over him before," Turais said as he thought of his cover story quickly. "And I don't think you were involved with anyone else. Am I incorrect to assume?"

         Andromeda's glared tapered out as she shook her head tiredly, "No... sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out. And yes, Ted fathered it. But I just found out two days ago and I haven't had the chance... or courage to tell him yet."

         "I think you need to have this conversation soon," Turais said. "You two will need to decide what to do. And you will start to show in a couple of months if not sooner."

         "I... I know..." Andromeda covered her face with her hands. "I don't care about the graduation ceremony, but I really wanted to finish my N.E.W.T.s here... it doesn’t seem possible anymore.”

         "Likely not,” Turais agreed. “But that’s not a huge issue. You can always take the remedial examination at the Ministry instead.”

         “Okay...” Andromeda nodded absently. “But I’m most worried about my baby. If my family discovers that I’m having one out of wedlock, and with a muggleborn...” Andromeda shuddered as she placed a hand over her abdomen. “I don’t care if they disown me, but I know they will try everything they can to stop me from carrying the baby to term. They would think it is an abomination.”

         Turais did not doubt Andromeda’s words the slightest bit.

         "Well, your only option would be to leave Hogwarts before they realize what’s happening,” Turais said. “You’re of age now so you will be able to withdraw from Hogwarts unilaterally. And most importantly, Ted will have to leave with you. I cannot even begin to imagine what your family would do to him if he stays put.”

         Turais could feel Andromeda’s anxiety levels rising once again, therefore, he stopped voicing his inner thoughts and said, “But all of this will come later. The first order of business is to have a frank conversation with Ted and ask for his opinion. Sounds like a plan?”

         Andromeda gave Turais a wet smile and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

         “Well, please allow me to walk you back to the Hufflepuff section.”

         “Thank you, Turais,” Andromeda said, wiping the tears off her face, “For everything.”

         “I’m just glad I can help you at a time of need,” Turais said. “I’m also very sorry that I wasn’t around when you found out. It must have been so difficult for you.”

         “It was...” she said. “But you’re here now and thank you for not turning your back on me.”

         “Nonsense, I would never do that.”

         “The thing about our family is... you can never be sure...”

         Turais knew she was talking about Narcissa, and he had nothing comforting to say.

         “When she has a child of her own one day, she too will understand your predicament.”

         As they turned the corner and started up the stairs that led back to the stands, Turais saw a person at the corner of his eyes. In the floor below, he could see Michael heading for the exit. 

         It was highly unusual for anyone to leave a Quidditch Match before it ended, but for Michael - of all people - to do that was beyond shocking.

         “I will head back to the Gryffindor side then,” Turais said, stamping out the sense of urgency in his voice. “Please keep me updated on everything and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

         “I will keep you updated,” Andromeda smiled. Once she disappeared back into the crowd, Turais immediately bolted towards the exit.

         Once he exited the Pitch, he started to walk back to the castle when he saw Michael heading towards Hagrid's hut instead. Curious, Turais hid behind a tree and observed the Slytherin captain walking past the hut before stopping at the edge of the Forbidden forest.

         "What is he doing?" Turais wondered.

         Michael stood there for a long while before he turned around and headed back to the castle. Turais arrived at the castle gate at the same time as Michael and pretended to be surprised.

         "Hey, Michael," Turais said. The boy visibly jumped at the call of his name.

         "You scared the living daylight out of me, Turais," Michael gasped. "Why are you not at the match?"

         "I could ask you the same question."

         "Well then, let's pretend we didn't see each other then," Michael said nervously before walking off quickly.

         "Strange..." Turais noted to himself before he rejoined the others at the Quidditch match just moments before a Gryffindor victory was announced. Fortunately, it seemed that his long absence was not registered.

          After successfully leaving the Gryffindors to their own celebration, Turais quickly headed to the One-Eyed Witch. Double-checking that the coast was clear, Turais tapped his wand on the stone statue and whispered the password, "Dissendium. "

         Trekking in the dark for half an hour, Turais finally emerged from the cellar of Honeydukes. Summoning his Cloak of Invisibility, Turais swung it over his body and crept to the storefront where he saw the owner, Mr Flume, standing by the open door. Slipping past the man covertly, Turais saw Madam Rosmerta walking down the empty street towards The Three Broomsticks.

          As night approached, the dimming skies made the usually-bustling village feel even more lifeless than it was.

          "How's business?" the barmmaid asked as she passed the man.

          "Terrible," replied Mr Flume. "I've been saying for ages that they should tear down those warehouses. Now, look!"

          "The Ministry never gets anything done," Rosmerta laughed. 

          "How 'bout you? Slow day?"

          "Couple of stranglers and that's all," she said. "Gaffer's lowering the prices. You should swing by for a couple pints later."

          "I'll see you after I close shop then," Mr Flume agreed as he headed back into his store.

          Turais continued on his way towards Hog's Head when he heard the doorbell of The Three Broomsticks open up. A tall man with a long, white beard exited the establishment. 

          "Dumbledore?" Rosmerta asked in surprise. Then, a frail-looking man wearing a thick fur coat that seemed to weigh heavier than his own body walked out as well. "Oh, bless my heart. It's an honour to meet you, Mr Flamel. What brings you here to this icy realm?"

          Flamel smiled faintly as he tugged on his cloak tighter.

          "An ill wind, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said gravely.

          "The Wildfyre explosion?"

          "It was a grievous act," Flamel's voice spoke as soft as a gentle breeze. "And especially when I am a stakeholder in this particular situation." 

          "So it is confirmed then," Rosmerta gasped. "The Philosopher's Stone was stolen."

          "I would expect it to be common knowledge after all that has transpired," Flamel said sagely. "No need to clarify the obvious."

          "I suppose... but can you make more of the Stone?"

          "It is the one and only Stone there will ever be."

          "Well, you are taking all of this fairly well, I dare say," Rosmerta said. "Considering you lost such a valuable item. I would be devastated."

          "It is the most magical substance in the world," Flamel acknowledged. "But just because it is rare or powerful or storied does not make it valuable. If one has no use for the Stone, its value vanishes. That is, of course, just my humble opinion."

          "I would imagine many people have plenty of uses for it, nefarious or self-enriching or both," Rosmerta said darkly. Then, she glanced at the front door of the Three Broomsticks and said, "Well, I shall head back to work then. Take care and good day to you both."

          After Rosmerta entered the pub, Dumbledore turned to his companion and asked, "Are you returning to Paris now, Nicolas?"

          "No, I have one more appointment here tonight," Flamel said.

          "Shall I wait with you until they arrive? One can never be too careful in these uncertain times."

          "That is unnecessary, Albus," Flamel said. "And I do insist on it."

          "Very well. I shall bid you adieu and safe travels," Dumbledore said as he Disapparated with a loud pop, leaving the man standing alone in the middle of an empty street. Curious, Turais followed after the scuttling man without revealing himself. They walked down High Street and turned into the road that led to the abandoned warehouse district. 

          The final rays of sunlight slowly disappeared beneath the frigid hills as they approached the site of the explosion. In the twilight haze, he could observe the darkened soot and ashes sprinkled on the ground and covering nearby structures. Acidic flumes of chemical and sulphur from the explosions wafted into his nostrils and burnt his lungs. They arrived at where the courtyard once was and found that everything was completely decimated. The ground where the warehouse once stood was now a large, muddy crater filled with debris. 

          Everything was burnt and destroyed without a hint of its past.

          Flamel, with his illuminated wand in front of him, stood at the edge and scanned the entire site silently. He picked up a long piece of splintered wood nearby and descended into the ruins slowly. Turais watched as the Alchemist probed the soil and overturned stones as if he was in search of something. He paused at one location, pulled out his wand, and flicked it. Dazzling specks of red rose from the earth shimmering like a blanket of light as they collected into streams that arched high above before entering the vial in Flamel's hand.

          During the process, however, Turais thought he saw a flickering faint, golden outline of the warehouse where it once stood. There were also phantasmal images of the explosion as it occurred before it rewound like watching a film in reverse. When the streams of particles stopped and the images disappeared, Turais wondered if he saw a mirage.

          Meanwhile, Flamel climbed out of the crater with the glass vial filled with ruby-red particles in his hand. Then, his gaze landed at where Turais stood silently. The penetrating glance from the ancient man made Turais wonder whether he was discovered, but he double-checked and saw that his Cloak was still concealing his entire body.

          "It is never polite to follow and survey in the shadows unannounced," Flamel said softly as he dropped the wood onto the ground. "Please reveal yourself, Master Black."

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-01-15

Chapter 49: Treasure Hunt (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

- ravenclawblues 2021-01-29

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

TREASURE HUNT


 

February 1, 1972 (Tuesday)

 

DEADLY EXPLOSION IN HOGSMEADE

by Andy Smudgley

10 Minutes of Terror Ends With 3 Deaths and Multiple Injuries

 

What appeared to be a regular Hogsmeade Weekend turned into a fiendish nightmare when a fatal tragedy rocked the village to its core. Hogwarts students were milling around the picturesque village of Hogsmeade enjoying hot foaming tankards of Butterbeer or visiting the famous sweet shop of Honeydukes. Then suddenly, there was a bright, neon green flash followed by a horrific boom. The earth quaked and the windows shattered as they fled for cover.

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Madam Rosmerta, barmaid at the local pub, The Three Broomsticks, told our reporter. She was taking the rubbish to the alleyway when she saw the scene unfold. "Never in my life have I seen such a mind-numbing event. I thought it was a scene right out of the history books, like the ones retelling how Grindelwald tried to overtake Europe decades ago." 

The case is now being investigated as an act of domestic terrorism, according to the Auror Offices. The severity of the incident and its proximity to Hogwarts raised major concerns regarding the safety of its students. This comes after reports suggesting that at least 3 current students were at the site of the explosion and sustained various levels of injury. 

In response, Head of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore has already announced an immediate suspension of Hogsmeade travel privileges and heightening of security wards at the school boundaries.

"[The students] will be perfectly safe within these castle walls," Dumbledore told the press late yesterday afternoon. "We will maintain vigilance and we have utmost confidence in our law enforcement to uncover the heinous crimes mounted against our community."

 

***

 

          Turais peeled off his Cloak, lit his wand, and walked up to the man. Nodding politely, he said, "Excuse me, Master Flamel. I did not mean to startle you."

          “You didn’t startle me. After all, you were the next appointment I spoke of,” Flamel smiled kindly. Then, he gestured for them to walk on the return path to Hogsmeade. Turais complied silently and the older man spoke again, "I sense that you are in search of information... information that is not possessed by most."

          Turais arched his brow in surprise at the words. "Then I believe you have the answers that I seek."

          "Some, perhaps," Flamel said airily, "Not all."

          "Do you know where the Philosopher's Stone is?"

          "Yes... and no," replied Flamel. He looked down at Turais's confused expression and continued, "What is lost will be found."

          Turais knew that Flamel had the Stone in his possession when Harry Potter was in first-year in the original timeline. In the new timeline, however, he could not be certain.

          "You fear otherwise?" Turais nodded at Flamel's question. “Why is that?”

          "Well, I am more fearful of the implications of the Stone’s disappearance. It is currently lost without a trace as to where it may lie,” Turais said carefully and avoided answering the question directly as he could not possibly say it was because he knew the facts of the other timeline. “If it falls into the wrong hands, immense damage could be unleashed and our society would plunge into far graver danger. In the best case scenario, some narrow-minded, unimaginative fellow filled with greed would confine themselves to producing gold from scrap metals. In the worst case scenario, the Wildfyre explosion in Hogsmeade would serve as an insignificant prelude to more tragedies to come."

          “You still have not learnt to be truthful with me since the last time we met,” Flamel observed without the slightest hint of admonishment. Turais wondered how Flamel saw through his lie. “But no matter... It seems your worst fears have not been realized since the disappearance of the Stone months ago. And I can assure you it will not actualize in the future either."

          Turais stopped in his steps abruptly. Pointing his finger at the carnage behind them, he said combatatively, "Was what we have witnessed not sufficiently terrifying? Just the mere thought that innocent lives could have been lost to weapons stored with the malicious intent to kill chills me to my core. What has happened might be far from my worst nightmares, but this is no utopian daydream either."

          Flamel merely looked at Turais steadily as he took on the barrage of words.

          "You misunderstand me," Flamel said softly. His voice was like a soothing balm that somehow relaxed Turais's agitated mind. "Allow me to clarify further. I have precise knowledge regarding the logistics required to produce gold, Elixir, or Wildfyre as well as its subsequent storage and usage. Therefore, I have monitored the flow of gold and potions into the markets, both lawful ones and not, as well as reports of illegal weapons caches since the theft.

          "If one were to acquire the Stone in hopes to accumulate wealth through transforming scrap metal into gold, gold with suspicious, unknown origins would have flooded the market and I would have detected such an aberration. It is an even simpler task if they were to sell the Elixir of Life. Wildfyre, while it would not be sold, it is quite cumbersome to store and dangerous to handle. It would be relatively trickier to identify, but not impossible. Remember, I have amassed quite an impressive network of contacts throughout my lifetime, so do believe me when I say nothing is left unaccounted for."

          "You describe your abilities in such a manner, yet this incident managed to happen under your oh-so-omnipotent watch," Turais huffed.

          "Omnipotence," Flamel repeated thoughtfully. "What an interesting choice of word. Perhaps I would like to respond as such - Omnipotence is like being armed with the brightest torch that reveals everything its beam shines upon. But to uncover the truth in the utter darkness, one must know where to aim the light first. Unfortunately, Hogsmeade was one of the last places I conducted my search as I incorrectly assumed its proximity to Hogwarts decreased its likelihood as a candidate location."

          Flamel stopped and waved his arm at the ruins. "One week is the amount of time it takes to fill that warehouse with the deadly Wildfyre. Yet, after concluding my continental search, I can ascertain that this was the only cache of Wildfyre ever produced. Furthermore, there has not been active production of Wildfyre at this location for at least two months."

          That was news to Turais. He was under the assumption that the warehouse had a laboratory that was actively producing more of the explosive substance.

          "Let us assume - and it is a big assumption - that your assessment is true," Turais said. "Then those behind this conspiracy ceased the production of Wildfyre for an unknown reason and had not used it further or for other purposes either. Why would that be...?" Then, the answer clicked in his mind. Looking up at Flamel, he breathed out, "The Philosopher's Stone has been stolen from them."

          Flamel nodded. "The possession of the Stone has changed. Once, at least, and perhaps more."

          "But that doesn't answer your initial question. Why did the new owner not use the Stone's powers?"

          "It is a legendary substance, after all. Perhaps there are other powers that even I am not aware of."

          The ensuing silence was filled by the gentle snaps of twigs and susurrating snow beneath their feet.

          "Your lack of urgency on the matter perturbs me greatly," Turais admitted as Hog's Head came into view. From this distance, he could see Aberforth walking in between empty tables with a dirty rag in his hand. Then, a church bell started to ring throughout the night sky.

          "As I said before, what is lost must be found," Flamel said with a shadow of a smile. He held out his lithe arm and Turais wrapped his fingers around it instinctively. "Honeydukes will soon close, and there is somewhere else your guidance is desperately needed."

          Before Turais could ask a question, the world suddenly warped into a golden haze. Images flashed before his eyes. Some were foreign while others felt familiar. However, they all disappeared before he could process what he saw. The physical link with the ancient wizard broke as Turais found himself alone in front of the sweets shop on High Street.

          "Do not worry about the Stone," A faint echo of Flamel's voice reverberated in his head as a gentle night breeze tickled his ear. "All will be well and in due time."

          Turais whipped around to find the entire High Street void of any person. The church bell struck its final time as silence filled the air once more. Before he could begin to question what just happened, Turais could hear heavy footsteps and crisp clinking of keys inside the store as Mr Flume walked up the stairs leading to the second-floor. The front door was slightly ajar and Turais quickly crept into the dimly-lit store. Descending into the basement, Turais jumped down the trapdoor into the secret tunnel.

          In the safety of the darkness, Turais wondered about the strange encounter with Flamel and his cryptic message. 

          There was also something unsettling about the ancient wizard. In both encounters, Turais felt as if he stood defenseless with his identity and thoughts laid bare before the man. That feeling of helplessness and lack of control was one he never felt with anyone else, not even with Dumbledore.

          The only comparable experience would be his conversation with Time.

          A rumble of a distant bell hit Turais's eardrums and struck deep into his chest, rattling his ribs and distracting him from his thought. But it was impossible for such a sound to be heard in the middle of the tunnel. Turais shook his head and dismissed the sound as a figment of his imagination.

          However, as Turais thought back to the odd sensation he just experienced, his mind wandered to the day Trelawney prophesied the future and, further yet, his previous encounter with Flamel in Paris. That thought sent a shiver down Turais's spine and he quickly banished it to the back of his mind. Instead, he considered something else in Flame's parting words.

          "Where is my guidance needed?" Turais wondered aloud. Clearly, Flamel knew something was about to happen. However, what exactly was his presence needed for? Turais did not know.

         Reaching the end of the tunnel, Turais emerged from behind the One-Eyed Witch and headed for the Slytherin common room. However, just as he was about to turn the corner into the hallway, he saw the common room door open. In the disappearing light from the tunnel, Turais recognized that person exiting was Michael. He was in a completed, outdoor attire, including dragonhide boots, an outer protective cloak, and an unlit lamp. It was as if he was going on an adventure deliberately after curfew.

         Turais trailed behind Michael as he snuck out of the castle onto the forest ground. The boy tip-toed past Hagrid's hut and pumpkin patch and stopped right at the edge of the forest. In the dim, yellow glow that emitted from the window of the small wooden hut, Turais could see the boy's scared expression as he took a shaky, experimental step forward before the sound of snapping twigs nearby caused him to jump back several steps.

         "Come on, Carmichael," the boy muttered to himself shakily. "You can do this."

         He breathed heavily several times before walking forward only for a loud yip to deter him once more.

         "Crumpy!" Hagrid's voice sounded as the hut door opened with a slam. Turais saw a tall, dark shadow emerge as he sprinted towards the Slytherin captain who was seemingly frozen in place by shock and fear.

         "Michael," Turais hissed as he grabbed Michael's arm from behind. The boy jerked violently as he whipped around with frantic eyes. "Get in here."

         Michael could only nod as he tumbled after Turais's lead into the shadows of the forest. Just as they found cover behind the nearest tree, there was another small bark close to them. Turais risked a glance and found a cute Crup with white skin and brown patches standing beside his leg. It was looking up at the two boys while wagging its forked tail and panting excitedly.

         There was a loud whistle as the Crup turned its head towards the sound.

         "Crumpy! What did 'ey say about goin' to the Forest at night!"

         Crumpy yipped at the gamekeeper once before staring at Turais once more.

         "Go to Hagrid, Crumpy," Turais whispered pleadingly, but the Crup just tilted its head and yipped again excitedly.

         "Crumpy, there's a delicious treat for ye if yer follow me," Hagrid called out as Turais could hear his footsteps come even closer.

         Crumpy looked at him and yipped for one final time before it sprinted back to its owner.

         "Knew tha' would get yeh out o' there," Hagrid said with a light heave. Then, his footsteps grew fainter as he returned to the hut.

         "Well... that was close," Turais breathed out a sigh of relief once the door snapped closed. Looking beside him, he saw Michael sitting on the ground with his hands trembling in fear. "Uh... are you alright, Michael?"

         "No... No, I'm not," he wheezed out in between gulps of air. "B... But I will be... soon. Just... le... let me... give me a moment."

         Turais crouched down beside the boy and waited until his breathing finally returned to normal.

         "So... what are you doing here, Michael?" Turais whispered. "And don't tell me you are on a lovely evening stroll."

         "I... I... uh... I am trying to... uhm... find... a... uhm... creature."

         "In the Forbidden Forest? And at night?"

         "Seems like it, huh?" Michael asked with a nervous chuckle.

         "What are you looking for?"

         "Uh... well... it's like a spider?"

         "A spider," Turais repeated blandly.

         "Yeah? But like a spider with poisonous venom -"

         The answer clicked in Turais's mind instead.

         "And the size of a bloody giant because anyone can just stroll up to a man-eating Acromantula, pluck its pincers, drain its venom, and walk out the lair alive," Turais hissed angrily. "Do you have a death wish, Michael?"

         "I don't..." Michael said weakly. "I was just trying to locate its lair..."

         "Are you mental? I just saved you from burning into a crisp and now this is how you repay me?! By running straight into an Acromantula colony?! Even the Lovegoods would call this madness!"

         "Do you think I want to do this?!" Michael hissed back as he buried his head into his knees. "I am so bloody scared right now but I don't know what else I can do to make up the gold."

         "Why do need the gold this desperately?" Turais asked with a frown. Then, memories of Jonty’s words rushed back into his mind.

         Turais gasped out in realization as Michael let out a tiny sob before the older boy said, "Because my family has an enormous debt and I broke off a marriage with the Swires that will reverse our financial woes and save our family from the brinks of ruins! I was talking to Hagrid last week when he let it slip that he was celebrating the birthday of a thirty-year-old Acromantula...  and, as you know, the venom in that thing is more than enough to repay our debt."

         "This is not the way to do it," Turais hissed. "You will die before you ever get near Aragog!"

         "Aragog?" Michael asked wetly.

         "It's the name of the leader of the Acromantula colony that you are trying to find. Bet you didn't hear about that, did you?" Turais said wryly.

         "I guess not," Michael said. "I left when he tried to offer me a slice of rock cake."

         Turais choked out a laugh but quickly covered it with a cough.

         "What will you do with the venom even if you somehow managed to obtain it? How will you sell it? No apothecary has that amount of gold to buy it off you."

         "It's not through the apothecaries," Michael sniffed. "The goblins at Gringotts have a list of extremely rare Potions ingredients that they are interested in acquiring as collectables, both for their own collection or for interested clients. And they offer to pay handsomely for every item. Acromantula venom was one of them on the list."

         Turais closed his eyes before he took in a large, calming breath. The option had been in his mind for a long time but he never wanted to use it in fear of raising Dumbledore's suspicion, Voldemort's ire, and distrust of the school population... but he did not save Michael's life only for him to get killed trying to repay his family debt.

         "Does the list include shed Basilisk skin?"

         "It does..." Michael said slowly as a hint of fear crept into his words. "Why did you ask?"

         Turais sighed.

         "How much can an intact fifty feet long Basilisk skin fetch?"

 

***

 

          The next day, Turais woke just before the break of dawn. He dressed quietly, retrieved his trusty broomstick, and met up with Michael at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. However, was interrupted when he saw Narcissa dozing off near the entrance. Sensing Turais's arrival, Narcissa's eyes flew open.

          "Cousin Turais," Narcissa said as she walked up to him.

          "Cousin Narcissa," Turais replied with a hint of surprise. There was an awkward pause as neither of them seemed to address why they were awake at this early hour. "It has been quite a while since we have last spoken."

          Narcissa nodded with a sincere expression. "I am here to give to my thanks."

          "For what?"

          "Due to your efforts, you helped clear Lucius's father of his crimes," Narcissa said gently. "Now, I believe that reconciliation between the families can finally occur."

          There was a genuine sense of hopefulness in her voice.

          "Narcissa," Turais said calmly. "I didn't do it for any reason other than to uncover the truth. Lord Malfoy should not be punished for a crime he did not commit, neither should anyone else."

          "Of course, of course," Narcissa agreed readily. "But now that he is due to be released from the Ministry holding cells soon, perhaps the Blacks and Malfoys can start to mend our relations." Narcissa stepped forward and held Turais's hand in hers, "Turais, I know you have your grandfather's ear. Can you please put in a good word to allow Lord Malfoy to be reinstated to his previous posts?"

          Turais found himself in a bind. On the one hand, he would never willingly return Lord Malfoy to his previous height of influence and power. On the other hand, he wanted to preserve the rare amiability that Narcissa had displaced towards him today as it would be an important basis to rekindle their frayed relationship under Malfoy's toxic influence. But all of this was without mentioning the fact he and Arcturus had a serious fall-out that remained unresolved.

          "I will try," Turais finally said.

          Narcissa nodded as she stepped with a slightly disappointed frown.

          "Well... I will await your good news."

          She walked away with Turais wondering how he would handle the entire situation.

 

***

 

         Turais met up with a jittery Michael as they wandered deep into the Forbidden Forest under the cover of the dense, cold morning fog. With poor visibility, Turais trudged ahead with his wand held above his forehead, illuminated by a Lumos . His boots splattered occasionally on the muddy riverbanks until the forest ground were slowly replaced by mildew-coated rocks. The air also changed subtly, turning more frigid and damp as the magic grew stronger.

         Slipping on a step, Turais balanced himself by reaching for a nearby tree branch, causing the leaves to rustle noisily.

         "Oh dear Merlin," Michael muttered behind him, clearly startled by the loud noise. "What are we doing here? This is mental."

         Turais placed his Nimbus on top of the large boulder in front of him. Turais exhaled a large breath while testing his grip on the slippery edges of the rock. "You've been grumbling under your breath for the past half an hour."

         "We are breaking a hundred school rules right now," Michael kept his voice low and quiet as Turais hoisted himself atop the boulder. Turais turned around and watched Michael looking at the trees around him nervously. There was a distant howl as he recoiled violently. Turais extended a hand and took Michael's broom before the captain climbed up as well.

         Brushing the moss off his trousers and robes, Turais commented dryly, "I would just like to take the opportunity and point out how you did not worry about any of this when you decided to hunt for an Acromantula colony on your own last night."

         "That was not my brightest moment," Michael admitted grudgingly. He picked up Turais's broom and handed it to its owner. "But how is hunting for a Basilisk any less dangerous?!"

         "It is not," Turais said as they resumed their journey on the rocky terrain. "But fortunately for us, we don't need to find a live Basilisk. We just need to find its molted skin."

         "Uh, tell me if I am misunderstanding anything, but you need a live Basilisk to have Basilisk skin. Basilisks molt in their pits, and there is no such thing as an abandoned Basilisk pit."

         "If you rather head for the Acromantula colony, it's somewhere due east," Turais said breezily while Michael huddled closer when something darted across the path behind them. It was probably a deer or a Threstral, but Michael looked as though he had seen a Dementor. The poor boy was so on edge the entire time that he would have probably been spooked by his own shadow at this point. "Or don't mind the directions at all and just follow the spiders. I'm sure they don't mind having human flesh for breakfast."

         "Uh... do I have a third option besides a giant murderous serpent and a giant murderous spider?" Michael asked weakly. "What's due west?"

         "Cereberuses, if I'm not mistaken. Not too keen on us humans either, mind you. But if you're up for a rough tumbling..."

         Michael gulped as he muttered something about "exactly like being in a Triwizard Tournament with dangerous monsters around them."

         "Relax, Michael," Turais said soothingly. "At least you have the best possible weapon against a potential Basilisk attack."

         "What is it?" Michael frowned as he eyed the environment warily. The fog seemed to close in on them as it became thicker and denser. With the aid of the Lumos charm, their vision was limited to barely an arm's length ahead of him as the light  failed to penetrate further.

         Turais rolled his eyes as he pointed at himself. "Me, Michael. I'm a Parselmouth, remember? Maybe I can negotiate our way out of a sticky situation."

         "How could I forget that? Let's just talk to a blood-thirsty serpent king if we come across one," Michael grumbled sardonically, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

         "Will you stop the chuntering?" Turais paused and turned around. "We can always turn back and pretend none of this happened."

         "Can you keep your voice down?" Michael hissed. "Also, I didn't say we should turn back - ack!"

         The boy let off a scream as a fern brushed across his face unexpectedly. After realizing his mistake, his face flushed into a deep shade of red.

         "You didn't hear that."

         "It doesn't matter what I hear. You better hope that the Basilisk didn't hear that," Turais said as he continued trekking, leaving a stunned Michael gnawing the inside of his cheek anxiously.

         "How did you find the Basilisk anyway?" Michael asked.

         "You're not the only one who takes slight detours into the Forbidden Forest from time to time," Turais explained. "Also, I've never seen or heard the Basilisk before. I've only ever found its skin."

         "I never knew there was a bloody Basilisk living in the Forbidden Forest. What is Dumbledore even thinking for not getting rid of it?!"

         "He did say the Forbidden Forest is off limits... but I'm also not positive there's a living Basilisk around."

         "That's not good enough. Also, a fat load of help to keep us away from it considering the thing has free will and can slither around and come to us ," Michael grumbled. "You don't think this has something to do with the legends, do you?"

         "You mean the Chamber of Secrets?"

         "No, I meant the Lost Diadem," Michael replied sarcastically, his reaction likely due to the immense stress. "Of course I meant the Chamber of Secrets!"

         "Well, Salazar Slytherin supposedly sealed the monster within the secret chamber and only his Heir could control and unleash it." There was a pregnant pause, causing Turais to turn around. There, he saw Michael giving him an expectant look. Defensively, Turais asked a sharp "What?"

         "I mean... you said it yourself... you know Parseltongue... and that's sort of what Slytherin was well-known for," Michael hedged. "Also, the trait is hereditary... so..."

         "You know my family tree as well as every Pureblood in Britain does," Turais said. "There isn't a single drop of Slytherin blood running in my veins, unfortunately. Or else, my ancestors would have definitely made it known to the entire world."

         "I suppose so... but what if the monster is in fact a Basilisk, you could potentially control that thing... almost like a pet," Michael suggested.

         "I'm not really interested in testing out the theory about whether being a Parselmouth is good enough to control the Basilisk. Furthermore, I'm absolutely, unequivocally, and utterly uninterested in having a monster as a pet," Turais’s face scrunched up in disgust at the thought. "Why have a large, venomous serpent that could kill someone with a single eye contact when you can - for example - cuddle with an adorable Crup?"

         "I suppose that's fair," Michael conceded.

         After a few more steps, Turais felt that the magic in the air grew to a critical level. He recognized that they had arrived at their destination and stopped in his tracks abruptly, causing Michael to bump into him. "Why did we stop, Turais? Turais?"

         Ignoring Michael's hushed whispers, he raised both hands in front of him and pushed forward.

         " Ventus ."

         A strong gust of wind whipped past the boys from behind and pushed the milky fog to the sides. Now, a few feeble rays of the morning sun were able to filter through the partially dissipated moisture and illuminate the entrance of a large cave. In its obsidian depths, the sound of wind magnified and whistled mysteriously.

         Turais recognized it as the opening where Fawkes flew out after he rescued Ron, Ginny, Lockhart, and himself from the Chamber of Secrets.

         "Is this the Basilisk cave?" Michael squeaked.

         "Yes," Turais said as he swung a leg over his broom. "Mount your broom. We will need to fly down."

         "Do we have to?" Michael let out an uncharacteristic whine.

         "Come on, Michael," Turais said as he lifted off and headed into the darkness. "Lumos maximus."

         A bright ball of light erupted from the tip of Turais's wand, illuminating every stalagmite and stalactite inside the cave tunnel as it shot forward towards the underground systems. Turais glanced backwards to see Michael flying after him with a look of grim mixture of horror and resignation.

         The flight ended a minute later as they touched down on the chalky cave floor. Looking around, ancient stones that formed the basement foundation of the castle could be seen faintly between the stone crevices. In front of them, there were two tunnel openings wide even for an adult Basilisk to move through. One likely led to a blocked off and unused section of the castle near the Slytherin dungeons while the other, of course, led to the vaulted entrance of the Chamber of Secrets. Besides their bated breath, only the sound of dripping water on rocks echoed in the dimly lit space.

         Turais didn't remember this part of the cave system, but he supposed that this place collapsed into a larger opening after Lockhart's Memory Charm backfired.

         "We will need to go through one of these tunnels," Turais said as he glanced at each opening in turn, but the visual assessment did not glean much information. "It shouldn't be too far from here."

         "You wander pretty far from where you should be," Michael noted nervously.

         "Well, we're here now," Turais said as he took the lead and entered the darkness armed with only the tiny glow at the tip of his wand. A short walk later, they appeared in a much larger cave that Turais recognized as the antechamber. One end would bring them to the sewer system that led up to the Moaning Mrytle's bathroom while the other end would bring them to the Chamber of Secrets. However, neither ends could be seen from their current position. Then, their eyes landed on the prized treasure. Nearby, there was a long, winding snake skin in muted green and grey that stretched more than fifty feet long. Turais knew that there should be other skins lying around nearby, but this was the only one that his wand could illuminate in the dark cave.

         "The Basilisk skin!" Michael whispered in amazement.

         "Let's not muck around. Don't want to risk meeting a Basilisk down here," Turais said as Michael suddenly remembered about the very present threat of sharing this space with a living Basilisk. Turais, of course, knew that the Basilisk was hibernating deep within the Chamber, securely isolated by two doors that could only be activated by Parseltongue. However, there was no harm in deterring Michael from returning after this one instance.

         "Of course, of course," Michael said quickly. "But how are we going about this?"

         "We will take this and bring it through the tunnel. Then, we will get on our brooms, cast the Levitation Charm together, and slowly transport the skin up to the surface," Turais said.

         The maneuver was quite complicated even with Turais's magical powers. However, lifting a fifty-feet Basilisk skin from its lair was not a common task, Turais supposed. By the time they were able to reach the surface with the treasure, they were both drenched in sweat and exhausted from concentrating on their tasks. The fog had also disappeared and was replaced with open air under the warm, afternoon sun. 

         "Am I off my head?" Michael asked once he finally caught his breath. His trembling fingers, both from shock and exhaustion, glided over the dusty surface of the glistening snake skin. In the bright environment, even the decades-old layer of dust could not brunt the brilliant array of vibrant greens. The scales, under the gentle breeze, rustled and shifted as red, yellow, and purple colours danced in their eyes. It was as if a Basilisk was slithering lively on the forest floor. "Is this real or am I in a bizarre dream?"

         "I would go spare if this turned out to be a dream," Turais chuckled. "All that hard work for nothing."

         With their task complete, they collapsed beneath a tree overlooking the Black Lake. Completely drained of energy, they rested as they watched the murky, dark waters ripple under the gentle winds.

         "This is your golden ticket to freedom," Turais said quietly with his eyes closed. "No more marriage to Lavinia Swire, no more debt, and maybe a few Knuts to spare and store away in your vault."

         "Yeah..." Michael responded as he picked at the blades of grass by his feet. "I... I... don't know what to say..."

         "A thank you would be nice, I suppose," Turais teased weakly.

         "Thank you, Turais," Michael said solemnly. "But I owe you so much more. This... this would never have happened without you."

         "Perhaps that is true. But you don't owe me anything," Turais said. "Just make sure you treat Kaiden right. Or else..." He made a threatening gesture and Michael chuckled.

         "I promise."

         "Good," Turais nodded. "Kaiden has a good heart and soul... but they are a bit... delicate when it comes to friends and family. He has always treated you as both his best friend and closest family, so I just want you to be very clear on one thing. Not only do you have to have his safety and happiness in mind, you also need to ensure your own safety and well-being. Please never put your life in harm's way so needlessly like you did yesterday."

         "I promise," Michael nodded. "No more Acromantula hunting."

         "No more Acromantula hunting. You two have a bright future ahead together, Michael, please cherish it," Turais said as he opened his eyes and stood up. "That's all the gushy sentimentality I have to offer for one day. Now, bring Slughorn over. I will stand guard here to make sure no one accidentally comes upon this and claims it for themselves."

         "Are you certain you don't want a share of this?" Michael asked.

         "Absolutely," Turais reaffirmed strongly. "In fact, I need you to not mention my involvement in your 'discovery' at all. I do not need to draw any extra attention to myself. Stick to the story and, with some luck, you will get the gold you need and I will disappear into the background without a trace." At Michael's hesitation, Turais added, "Trust me, Michael. You are doing me a favour here."

         Michael nodded awkwardly before he jogged along the edge of the Black Lake towards the castle afar. 

 

***

 

          Everyone was huddled together in the Great Hall the following morning as the news of Michael's discovery made its way throughout the castle.

         "So, according to my sources, Wilkins was on his daily run when he decided to take a slight detour. That is how he came across an anomaly! He immediately ran back to the castle and notified Slughorn, who called the other three Heads of Houses and the Headmaster and headed back to the site. Voilà, there it was!" Jonty said excitedly to the captivated audience. "An intact Basilisk skin that was more than fifty feet long!"

         "Woah..." those who understood the significance gasped collectively while the rest looked around for answers, evidently confused.

         "What is so special about the Basilisk?" a first-year Hufflepuff asked.

         "What's so special?" another older Ravenclaw repeated incredulously. "It is one of the rarest and most dangerous magical creatures in the world! If you make eye contact with one, you will die instantly. Its bite is also incredibly venomous and there is no antidote for it... except for Phoenix tears and, potentially, the Elixir of Life."

         "Wait, does that mean there is a Basilisk living in the Forbidden Forest?" James asked excitedly while Sirius was uncharacteristically silent.

         "Possibly -"

         "Wicked!" James gasped. 

         "No, it is not," another student scolded. "There's a reason why the Ministry banned the breeding of Basilisks. They are dangerous and can only be controlled by a Parselmouth."

         "Well, Turais knows how to speak," Everyone turned to look at Turais.

         "I was nowhere near that thing," Turais said firmly. 

         "What happens to the Basilisk skin?" Sykes asked as he took some of the attention away from Turais. "A fraction of a piece would be worth hundreds of Galleons, let alone an intact one from a fully matured Basilisk!"

         "That's mad," another student said. "Wilkins has literally struck gold."

         "This is much better than striking gold."

         "Reckon you should have followed through with your New Year's resolution of doing daily runs on the school grounds?"

         "Do you think it has anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets?"

         "I don't think so... The last descendants of Slytherin died out decades ago."

         "Do you think he had to battle a Basilisk for this?"

         "No way!"

         "There's no Basilisks in Britain since it was outlawed centuries ago!"

         "Well, if he did, he survived and he deserves all the gold he gets!"

         The discussion continued but Turais tuned it all out. There was nothing he didn't know already, and he was just glad the spotlight was not on him.

         "So... you didn't have anything to do with this discovery, Turais?" Sirius muttered softly. His eyes were fixated on a piece of homework but his quill remained stationary in his hand.

         "I wish..." Turais lied. "Imagine all the gold I would have..."

         "Yeah... imagine that..." Sirius whispered with an odd expression on his face. Then, the owls started to fly in with their packages. A newspaper fell on Turais's lap as he opened it up to the front page. A quick glance at it, however, had already caused Turais to gasp in shock, anger, and desperation.

          "No..."

          "What is it?" Jonty asked immediately as he snatched the papers. Scanning the front-page, he said, "Oh, it's the same headline as yesterday."

          "What is it?" James asked as he jumped up to try and catch a glimpse of the newspaper.

          "Tiberius McLaggen is the primary suspect behind all the Ministry murders," Jonty replied as a stunned Turais sat silently, trying to process what he just read. 

          "Turais..." Alex said with uncertainty as he watched Turais closely. "We all knew from the papers yesterday. Is there something...?" 

          "He was administered the Kissed yesterday..." Turais hissed. The trail had gone cold with the incident, and everything was all for naught. The more time he spent on this thought, the more the sadness and fear transformed into frustration and anger.

          "Yeah, the sight of it apparently gave Lord Malfoy enough of a fright that it landed him in St. Mungo's," James said with a chuckle. "But McLaggen deserves it though. Everyone and all the evidence pointed towards him. Even he confessed his crimes. So what's the issue?"

          "Who authorized the Kiss? The Head Auror?" Turais whipped his head towards Jonty and asked. The boy, startled by the amount of vitriol in his voice, flipped through the paper nervously and read, "Uh... uh... it says... yes - the Head Auror Shafiq -"

          Turais stood up and scanned the Great Hall. Focusing in on Catherine who was chatting with her friends, he marched over to the Ravenclaw table and tapped her on the shoulder.

          Surprised, she turned around and said, "Oh, hey Turais -"

          "We need to talk," Turais said bluntly. "Privately. Now."

          "Oh... okay," she frowned before excusing herself from her friends. Following Turais out into a nearby corridor, she asked, "Uh... what's up, Turais? I'm sorry that we didn't get to play against each other last week-"

          "I'm not here for the Quidditch talk, unfortunately," Turais interrupted. "Your father issued and executed the Dementor's Kiss on Tiberius McLaggen before the investigation was finished."

          Catherine looked genuinely taken aback at Turais's antagonistic behaviour. "Oh... W... What? Ah... yes, I saw yester-"

          "Do you have any idea why he issued that order?"

          "Turais... I have no idea -"

          "He potentially knows the identity of the other terrorists behind the Ministry plot as well as the location of the Philosopher's Stone," Turais continued with a simmering anger in his voice. "Your father just destroyed our one and only lead towards solving the larger mystery!"

          "Turais... I honestly don't know what is happening," Catherine replied anxiously. "My... my father must have his reasons..."

          Turais closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as he willed valiantly for his anger to cool down. He knew Catherine was not to be blamed for her father's misdoings, but he couldn't face a person who shared the same last name as the person he reviled immensely at the moment.

          "Turais!" There was a shout of his name nearby and Turais reopened his eyes. Avoiding a look at Catherine's face, he turned his head to see Sirius running towards him. He stopped in front of him and said between heavy pants, "You... you... need to come... with... with me to the Hospital Wing... it's Andromeda and Narcissa..."

          Nodding, Turais turned around. However, he paused and gave a final glance towards her general direction.

          "I can only pray that you are correct and it was a tragic mistake," Turais said coolly. "If it proves to be otherwise, I shudder to imagine the possible explanations."

          "What do you mean, Turais?" Catherine shouted as Turais walked away, ignoring her question.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-01-29

Chapter 50: A Tale of Two Sisters (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Happy Lunar New Year for those who celebrate it!

Life has been increasingly busy for me for a while now and I have not been replying to comments (sorry!), but I hope my (relatively) consistent updates and (hopefully) quality will serve as a standing apology. And even though I am now too busy to respond, I do read and appreciate every single comment. Knowing that my story gives my readers a positive experience motivates me to better myself as well.

Thank you for the continued support! Thoughts, comments, they are always welcomed! I’d love to hear from you.

- ravenclawblues 2021-02-19

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY

A TALE OF TWO SISTERS


 

February 28, 1972 (Monday)

 

SUSPECT OF SERIAL MURDER ADMINISTERED KISS

by Andy Smudgley

Head Auror Faces Backlash from the Public and His Subordinates

 

In the past several years, the competency of the Auror Offices had been called into question frequently. The string of high-profile deaths in the Wizengamot brought that unwanted criticism to a new height as the Aurors were under immense pressure to prove their worth.

Indeed, after linking all the evidence of the high-profile murders in the Wizengamot plot together, the Aurors only lacked a suspect to point their fingers at. For months, they were unsuccessful at identifying the mysterious person that perpetrated all the events. In a surprising twist of events, it seemed as though the Aurors' desperate wish was answered in the form of a recorded confession from Tiberius McLaggen.

Eager to put the case behind them, the Head Auror authorized the Dementor's Kiss on the suspect two days after he was taken into custody, citing it as "an unprecedented security threat to our community that required bold action."

The public outcry was swift. Watchdog organizations and ethics commission panned the decision and decried it as a blatant misuse of the powers of the office...

 

***

 

          "What happened?" Turais whispered in shock. He sat down, holding a terrified Sirius by his side, as he stared at the horrific sight in front of him. Ted Tonks was lying on the bed under swaths of bandages all over his face and body. The only visible areas were also covered with large, purple bruises and shallow cuts. He looked like a disaster, but none of the wounds were life-threatening. With that amount of effort, the attacker could have easily killed the man. It was as if someone was toying with him or using this as a threat for something worse that was yet to come.

          "The Ravenclaw team found him at the Quidditch Pitch when they went in for practice," Andromeda said quietly. "They found him stripped down with injuries on almost every inch of his body."

          "Who would have done this...?"

          "Who else... but my dear sister."

          Her voice was steady and calm. However, Turais could detect the cold fury and rage beneath, which caused a chill to travel down Turais's spine.

          "Where is she?" Turais asked softly, but Andromeda did not answer. Turais tore his eyes from the unconscious man to the girl beside him. Andromeda was as still as a marble statue, her face was blank like a porcelain mask, and her hardened eyes trained on Ted's face. The only hint that betrayed her inner thoughts was the tightly intertwined fingers with whitened knuckles. "Sirius?"

          "Cousin Andromeda was arguing with cousin Nar-"

          "Do not say that wretched hag's name!" Andromeda interrupted loudly, causing both Turais and Sirius to jump.

          "But... she... wouldn't do this," Turais said. He had never heard from Andromeda in the previous timeline that Narcissa attacked Ted. It was also out-of-character for Narcissa to do such a thing. There was likely a misunderstanding.

          "She and Bellatrix are the only two who know of my relationship with Ted. But, of course, she wouldn't sully her hands with such a crime," she sneered. "Her lovely future husband, however, has a lot of underlings that wouldn't mind showing a Muggleborn where he belongs."

          "So you don't know for a fact that your sister is involved," Turais said cautiously. "This is a mere speculation -"

          "She never approved of our relationship," Andromeda said bitingly. "It is not far-fetched to think that she could commit such an act. In fact, I think she would have dreamt of doing such a thing for a long time."

          "Listen to me," Turais pleaded. "I know you are angry right now, but you need to think rationally. Do you have any proof?"

          "I don't need any. I know it's her," she said curtly, her eyes flashing dangerously.

          "But why would she do that?" Turais asked before he realized a potential cause. He quickly said, "Andy, I swear on my magic that I didn't tell anyone-"

          Andromeda raised a hand to silence him.

          "I know it is not you," she said.

          "But Andy-"

          "Thank you for visiting us, Turais," Andromeda said with Turais's words falling to deaf ears. "I would like some time alone."

          "Andy -"

          "I will talk to you later."

          Defeated, Turais stood up and led Sirius and himself out of the Hospital Wing. 

          "Did cousin Narcissa really..." Sirius asked timidly once they were heading to the Gryffindor tower.

          "I don't know..." Turais whispered.

          "What happens to them now?"

          Turais didn't answer, for he didn't know either. They walked together in silence up to the Gryffindor common room. All the while, Turais thought about what he could do to salvage the rapidly deteriorating relationship between Narcissa and Andromeda. Ultimately, he knew that he needed to find Narcissa and talk to her.

          "Do you have time for a game of Gobstones?" Sirius asked when they reached the landing.

          "I'm not any good with that..." Turais said as he started to think about where Narcissa would be.

          "That's fine, I can teach you," Sirius said readily.

          "Uh... maybe next time, Siri," Turais said as he turned to walk away. "I'll see you around!"

          "Bye..." Sirius said quietly as Turais darted around the corner and out of sight.

 

***

 

          Turais searched the entire castle and finally found Narcissa sitting on a stone bench that overlooked the Black Lake. The sun was blocked out by the dense, grey clouds that filled every inch of the sky as a sustained wintery breeze blew over the frigid landscape. The fringes of Narcissa's hair bobbed on her furred coat gently as she looked at the sight before her silently. Tiny dots of snow floated through the air and decorated their ink-black hair with specks of white.

          A storm, likely the last of this season, was brewing.

          "Cousin Narcissa," Turais breathed out as he walked up next to her.

          "Cousin Turais," she said without looking at him.

          "May I?" He gestured at the empty seat to the bench. Narcissa gave an almost imperceptible nod. Turais brushed the collecting cover of powdery snow off the bench and sat down.

          He breathed out silently. He watched as a large puff of vapour danced with the swirling snow before it disappeared into the grey background as if it never existed.

          "I heard about what happened to Tonks," Turais said casually after a long moment.

          "What happens to that home-wrecker does not concern me."

          Narcissa's tone was unyielding. Turais felt the coldness emanating from the girl and decided to switch tactics.

          "Let us talk about another issue then," Turais said agreeably, deliberately keeping his tone light. "I also heard about your fight with Andromeda."

          "Which one?" she taunted with a gleam in her eyes. "We had plenty over the years."

          Turais calmed himself down with a long, stable inhale. "I meant the one over Tonks's injuries from last night."

          "Oh... that vermin...." Narcissa nodded in feigned sudden recognition, mocking Turais. "Yes, what about that?"

          "Narcissa... I recognize that tempers must have been running high on both sides after the situation," Turais said delicately. "I'm not making any excuses from Andromeda, but perhaps you two can converse again with cooler minds."

          "My dear sister was the one who accused me of plotting to harm her Muggle boy," Narcissa said. "I wouldn't say that thought never crossed my mind all these years, especially after what just transpired between us in the Hospital Wing, but I did not do it."

          "I'm not making an accusation," Turais said, struggling to maintain his composure. "I am merely suggesting that Andromeda might have said something inappropriate at the heat of the moment - something that she would come to regret very soon. And I am asking you to consider that when you-"

          "- when what? When I forgive her? There is no forgiveness if she chooses that Mudblood scum over her family!" Narcissa hissed. "We've had this fight for years now. She had made her decision, and I had made mine. Perhaps, it is time for this familial bond to be severed -"

          "Do not say that lightly, Narcissa," Turais warned. His cousin turned her head towards him slightly with eyes widened, it was as if she was taken aback by the new edge in his voice. He continued, "And never use that word in front of me again, Narcissa!"

          Exhaling a sigh of frustration, Turais explained plainly, "Andromeda loves Tonks, exactly like how - at least I sincerely hope that is the case - you love Malfoy. You, if no one else, should understand her, Narcissa."

          Turais paused as he thought about whether he should tell Narcissa about her sister's pregnancy. However, he ultimately decided not to.

          "She loves the man deeply, and she will do anything for him. Don't you realize that nothing you do is going to change that fact? This anger, this... opposition, this isolation... they will not help you achieve what you want. Andromeda will not yield under these pressures. They will only hurt you both irreversibly."

          Turais placed a hand on Narcissa's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He pleaded sincerely, "Please talk to your sister, Narcissa. Please."

          There was a quiver in her pupils that gave him a flicker of hope, but that feeling was quickly extinguished as Narcissa turned back to the vast, snow-covered hinterland before her wordlessly.

          Defeated, Turais stood up to leave. However, after several steps down the slope, he turned around and spoke at Narcissa's tense, unresponsive figure.

          "You always speak of the importance of family. Yet, this resentment that you hold within you… Is it truly worth more than nearly two decades of sisterly love?"

          With that, Turais continued his way back to the snow-painted castle amidst the flurry flakes of snow that swirled around him.

          It seemed frostier than usual as Turais stuffed his hands into his fur-lined pockets. He wondered whether the source of the coldness was originating from outside or from within himself.

          In the blurry distance, a pair of grey eyes studied his departing figure.

 

***

 

          The winter storm continued to rage on the next day. Judging by the opaque blanket of white and grey flitting across the ceiling of the Great Hall, it would not let up for several more hours. All outdoor classes were cancelled, and the school grounds were off-limits until conditions improved, so the warm, toasty Great Hall was unusually boisterous and lively this morning.

          Turais was glumly spearing the asparagus with his fork, his thoughts still lingering on the events of yesterday, when a phrase entered his ears and caught his attention.

          "Did you hear that Wilkins and Swire called off their wedding?" a Ravenclaw sitting at the neighbouring table behind him said.

          Jonty perked up immediately as well at the latest gossip. Leaping out of his seat, he sidled up beside them and asked eagerly, "Wait, when was this confirmed?" 

          "We heard it from the man of the hour himself," she said. 

          "He didn't seem too disappointed about the development," the other Ravenclaw boy added.

          "Well, we all knew it was a political marriage anyway," Jonty agreed. "Now that Wilkins no longer needs the gold from the Swires, there is no reason to continue with the farce."

          "My thoughts exactly," the Ravenclaw girl nodded in eager agreement. "But I do wonder how the Swire girl is taking the news... she seemed to genuinely like Wilkins."

          "She did make two trips to Hogsmeade just to have an afternoon with him," the boy sighed. "Oh well, it wouldn't have been a happy marriage if her feelings were not reciprocated. But what a shame... if she did that to me... I think I would have fallen in love on the spot..."

          Turais was glad that things were going smoothly for Michael. He was even more pleased that he seemed to have gotten away from the entire episode without the attention he feared he would garner. However, he still feared what would be Voldemort's reaction to the news. He could only hope his anger would be directed towards him and not the innocent bystanders.

          Taking his leave from the breakfast table, Turais headed for his Divination class at the North Tower. When he arrived below the classroom, he realized that the trapdoor was already open. After climbing up, he saw Professor Trelawney sitting at her regular spot with her eyes closed and her legs crossed. It was as if she was in deep meditation.

          "Welcome back, Mr Black," she said without opening her eyes. Turais stilled like a unicorn caught at wand-point.

          "It has been a long while, Professor," Turais said cordially.

          "Quite so," she agreed. "I suppose my prediction had, unfortunately, come to fruition."

          Turais grimaced. "Indeed, but with fewer casualties, I hope."

          Trelawney shook her head.

          "Under the evanescent moon, a mad king rides with his army of skulled followers. He reigns with deceptive peace as malevolent swords descend from the skies upon his dissent. Your tarot spread does not suggest temporary pain and swift liberation. This is only a reprieve as the legion of darkness continues to fester in the shadows," she warned. "This is far from over, Mr Black."

          There was an uncomfortable lull of silence when Turais heard another person climbing up the ladder. Moments later, Gerald emerged from the opening.

          "Turais!" Gerald gasped in surprise as he approached. Then, his gaze panned to the Professor. Walking past Turais, he stopped in front of her table and said, "Uh... Professor, I have made up my mind about your offer."

          "Indeed, you have. As predicted," Trelawney said airily. "Tell me. You came to accept my offer?"

          "Uh... actually, I came to reject your offer," Trelawney's eyes opened in mild surprise as Gerald explained. "I... well... I predicted Wilkins, the boy who was at the Hogsmeade explosion, would die... but it turned out that I was completely wrong about that. I don't think you were correct about the potential you saw in me. I am no Seer material."

          "But Mr Macmillan, I am not mistaken about the talent you possess," she said. "Perhaps your prediction about Mr Wilkins was a mere anomaly within a long history of successes."

          "It is my only incorrect prediction," Gerald admitted. "But I have thought about this decision for a long time. And frankly, I am glad that I was incorrect with this particular prediction. If I was correct, I think... I think I would have felt obliged to master this craft to prevent other deaths. But since I was incorrect, I feel as if I have been given a final chance to walk away from this. I don't want to know the future. I don't want to be shackled with the responsibility of knowing the future. I'm... I'm sorry."

          Trelawney closed her eyes and nodded understandingly.

          "I admit that I was expecting a different answer, but I do respect your decision, Mr Macmillian. As you noted, predictions are not always correct, and the future is not cast in stone," Trelawney breathed out. "The path of a Seer is never easy. It is even a perilous one for some. Perhaps your choice is the correct one, but one may never know. However, is there even a correct choice to be made? I do wonder..."

          "Thank you, Professor," Gerald nodded stiltedly. "I... should also tell you that I do not plan to take this class next year either."

          "Very well," Trelawney said after a long pause. "I should take this chance to say that my offer stands if you ever change your mind."

          "Thank you," Gerald said awkwardly.

          "Do you think I made the right decision?" Gerald asked him as they walked away from the North Tower after a largely subdued class.

          "I... don't know," Turais admitted truthfully. "There is no right answer to this question."

          Gerald looked around and saw their fellow students. He seized Turais's arm and dragged him a short distance down a side corridor. Their classmates looked at them curiously as they walked past, but none of them thought twice about it before continuing on their journey.

          "I... I'm really scared of my Sight," Gerald whispered in a hushed voice, "...  most of my predictions came true... not just the minor things such as you failing your first assignment, but also for things that are a matter of life-and-death."

          He looked up at Turais, pale with fright, "And the warehouse explosion... Wilkins had half a foot in his grave... if he died, I would have known about his death weeks in advance... I don't care if it makes me a coward, but I cannot - no - I will not take that burden, Turais."

          "You're not a coward, Gerald," Turais comforted him.

          Turais knew that he had successfully prevented Michael's death in this timeline. However, if Michael died, Gerald could have been working his way towards becoming a Seer apprentice under Trelawney. Did that mean he also changed Gerald's fate as well?

 

***

 

          "How is Ted doing?" Turais asked as he sat down beside the bed in the Hospital Wing.

          On the other side of the bed, Andromeda was cleaning the boy's face gently with a wet cloth. There was a basin filled with warm water on the bedside table. It was steaming lightly, suggesting that the castle's Warming charms were inadequate against the penetrative cold through the numerous windows lining the large room.

          Unlike last time where the boy's face was in pasty white, Turais could see that the colour had partially returned. Most of the superficial wounds had already healed completely, and the bruises were also in a fading brown that suggested it was almost resolved.

          However, the bandage around his head remained as he continued to lay unconsciously.

          "He's recovering," Andromeda said, focusing solely on rinsing the cloth before repeating her task.

          "Has Madam Pomfrey put a timeline on when he wakes up?" Turais asked.

          "No," she said simply. Standing up with slight difficulty, she looked as if she wanted to tilt the boy's body.

          "Let me help," Turais said. With their combined effort, they rolled Ted onto his side. Turais held him in place as Andromeda lifted the shirt and washed his back. They worked in an amiable silence until Andromeda was finished.

          "Thank you," Andromeda sighed as she sat down gingerly. Then, she placed a hand on her abdomen subconsciously as she brushed the hair out of Ted's eyes with a soft expression on her face.

          "You should not over-exert yourself," Turais noted mildly. "It is not only yourself you need to worry about from now on."

          "I know," his cousin said. After a long moment, she sighed and sat back in her chair. Looking directly at Turais, she said, "We're eloping."

          The news did not surprise him. It was the logical decision, especially since the callous attack on Ted must have worried Andromeda tremendously.

          Turais nodded as Andromeda explained, "We talked the night after I told you of the child at the Quidditch match. When Ted heard the news, he was besides himself." There was another soft smile on her face as her hand circled over her robe. "He is quite excited to become a father. I wish you could have seen his expression."

          "I can imagine," Turais shared a chuckle.

          The smile on her face stilled as it slowly morphed into a worried frown. "We... we have discussed what we should do. Ted wanted me to settle into his family's house over the Easter holiday while he finished school. But since... what happened to him... I'm planning for the both of us to leave as soon as he is fit. I'm... I'm -" Andromeda placed a hand over her mouth as she sobbed, "- I'm sure he would agree."

          Her shoulder shook as a glistening tear escaped down the side of her cheek. Turais walked around the bed and wrapped his arm around his cousin.

          "Shhh... everything will work out," Turais said softly as he patted her on the shoulder in a steady rhythm.

          "I'm... so- sorry. I've been getting a bit- emotional... these days..."

          Andromeda wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she hiccuped.

          "That's alright. It is a big change. It's normal to feel overwhelmed," Turais said. "Remember, no matter where you are, just send me an owl or a Floo call. I will help you in any way possible."

          "I- I know you will. Ted knows it too. And- and he's grateful for your support in all this," Andromeda sniffed. "You know... he hated you originally." Turais arched a brow as she continued, "The first time you beat him in the Snitch catch, he resented you so, so much."

          "Oh really?" Turais asked in surprise. The Hufflepuff Seeker seemed so gracious when he congratulated him after the memorable match.

          "He was..." she chuckled wetly, "Every time he saw me, he complained about it to no end - how he should have contested your catch - how you didn't technically catch the Snitch because it was in your robe... It took around a month before he finally accepted that you are simply a more talented Seeker than him will ever be."

          "Honestly?"

          "Quite so," she shook her head fondly at the memories. "Merlin knows why he takes Quidditch so seriously. You all just look like a troupe of engorged Cornish Pixies in a cage fight."

          "I take personal offense to that statement," Turais said, his voice filled with amusement. "I think I am too handsome to be compared to a Pixie."

          Andromeda looked up. Their eyes met and triggered a small shared chuckle.

          "Well, I'm glad to report that his opinion of you has drastically changed since then."

          "Good."

          They fell into a companionable silence until Turais spoke up again, "When you have decided to leave... can you notify me? I want to say a final goodbye. Sirius, as well."

          "Of course, Turais," Andromeda said. She placed a hand on his and squeezed tight. "You two are probably the only family I have after I leave. You are not ridding yourselves of me so easily."

          Turais squeezed back.

          "Don't forget about Regulus as well," Turais said. Andromeda smiled lightly in return. Meanwhile, he was already planning how he could get Narcissa to come with him on that day, which would be the most pivotal moment in their relationship that would change everything between the two sisters.

 

***

 

          Troubled, Turais returned to the common room when he saw Malfoy sitting at the couches by the fireplace. Suspiciously, there were no students in the large room beside the two of them.

          "Malfoy," Turais said as he took the couch opposite the boy.

          "Black," Malfoy said with a forced smirk on his face. Besides that oddity, Turais also noticed Malfoy's red-rimmed eyes and blotchy nose. "I presume you know why I wished to speak with you in private."

          "It is probably not to thank me for my role in clearing your father of any wrongdoing."

          Malfoy's smile disappeared as his entire body turned deathly still. The hand on his staff started to tremble as the knuckles turned white under the hardened grip. "Oh, I suppose I should thank you for that, shouldn't I? I sent you a gift. Did you not receive it?"

          "What gift?"

          "Oh, the one sent to the Hospital Wing. I'm sorry it was badly damaged during its delivery."

          The straight-forward confession caught Turais by surprise, but he refused to let that show.

          "Why would you do such a thing?" Turais asked in cold fury.

          "One word," Malfoy said sharply. "Narcissa."

          It was then that Turais understood what Malfoy meant.

          "How despicable," Turais spat. "You harmed an innocent man just to engineer a rift between our family and her to make sure she remains isolated and can only depend on you. You are ensuring that she will be under your influence even when you are no longer in school."

          "I never confessed to anything," Malfoy countered. "You are merely jumping to premature conclusions."

          "I will never be as clever as you with words." Turais slammed his fist on the side table and stood up. Jabbing a finger at Malfoy, he shouted, "But if I know one thing about your act, it is that you are trying to tear our family apart from within!"

          "NO!" Malfoy shouted. He stood up in a whirl of robes and jabbed his staff at Turais's face. The perpetually emotionless boy's face was now contorted with rage, angry, and... and overwhelming sadness. "You are the one who tore my family apart! If it weren't for your lies, my father wouldn't have been suspected of the murders in the Ministry. If he were never suspected, he would not have been held at the Ministry. If he were not in the holding cells, he wouldn't... wouldn't..."

          Malfoy tore his gaze away and looked into the fireplace. For the first time in his entire life, Turais saw tears were streaming freely down the boy's cheeks.

          "No," Turais breathed out in utter shock as he fell back into the armchair. In the original timeline, Abraxas Malfoy died of dragon pox. Something drastic had changed beyond Turais's control. "No."

          "You've won," Malfoy whispered brokenly before he took in a shuddering breath. He turned to face Turais once more, but Turais could no longer see the arrogant, proud, and confident boy. He whispered again with a tear-stained smile, "You've won, Turais Black."

          "Isn't this what you wanted to hear after all these years?" Malfoy asked. "Three years, Turais. For three years, we have fought against each other. Three years of plotting, maneuvering, scheming, machinating, undermining... and... what did we get after all this? Nothing!"

          Malfoy laughed bitterly. "I underestimated you, Turais. I did. You see, I've heard stories about your father. And from what I've gathered, the word 'average' would have been a huge compliment for him. I should've known that you were nothing like your father since your first day here. And that was my mistake."

          "I can swear to Hecate that I have never done any physical harm to your friends and family," Malfoy continued softly. "Not until today. I have never done anything illegal. And I love Narcissa, so I would never do anything to harm her family. No matter how you kept seizing more and more from me, not once... Not once did I ever do anything out of line. But no matter. Winner rules and losers are ruled. That is how the world works, and I abide by it. I respect it."

          "But you!" Malfoy shouted as his eyes flashed with pain and anger. "You never knew to stop when you were far enough ahead, did you? Why did you need to drag this fight between the two of us beyond Hogwarts?! You destroyed everything here. Why did you have to take my father away from me as well?!

          "Why did you kill my father?!" Malfoy bellowed.

          "I never accused Lord Mal-"

          "You murderer!" Malfoy screamed in denial. "If you just kept your mouth shut, the Aurors would not have arrested him. If he was not in the Ministry holding cell, he would not have witnessed the Kiss. My father has a weak heart, and he died because of you! His blood is on your hands!"

          "Malfoy-"

          "You will pay for all of this! I will make sure of it -"

          "Listen, Mal-"

          "The day I leave Hogwarts will be the beginning of the fall of the Blacks," Malfoy declared darkly. "A divided House cannot stand by itself, and I will ensure that yours collapse beyond recovery."

          "I will stop you," Turais said, understanding that Malfoy would never change his mind about his father's death. "I will make sure our family stays together and united."

          "I would like to see you try," Malfoy sneered. "While you were happily minding other people's businesses, I was here sowing seeds in people's minds. You see, plants die, but thoughts never really do."

          "You!" Turais pointed at Malfoy's leer angrily before he turned over and ran out of the common room.

 

***

 

          "Does it even matter who did it?" Andromeda said tiredly as Turais told her about Malfoy's confession. "Narcissa is determined to bury her head in the sand and ignore Malfoy's behaviour. Our relationship had been strained the moment she started to ignore the truth before her. Ted's incident was just the straw that broke the camel's back."

          "In a sense, this makes her more unredeemable - enabling the culprit," she said. "Don't you think?"

          "But she could be in the dark about Malfoy's actions," Turais pointed out.

          "Perhaps. But she will not listen to you, not of all people. You have been against Malfoy since your first day in Hogwarts, and she is biased by her own emotions as well. There is no talking any sense into her."

          "So... is this it?" Turais asked, feeling at a loss and completely helplessly at the events before him. "Is there nothing I can do to mend the relationship between you two?"

          "You've done more than enough," Andromeda said softly.

          "But not enough to make a difference," Turais slumped onto the wall dejectedly.

          How could this have happened under his watch? Regret filled his stomach as he wondered about all the things he could have done differently.

          "Ted has awoken," Andromeda said. Turais looked up in surprise and renewed determination, but his cousin's next words brought him back to the land of disappointment. "He did not see who attacked him. The professors admitted privately that they are unlikely to find out who the culprits are."

          Malfoy was exceedingly clever with his words. He would never be pinned to the crime from what he implied that he committed, even though they both knew Malfoy had played a role in Ted's attack.

          "But that doesn't change anything fundamentally. Ted and I will leave Hogwarts the moment he is well enough to walk out those gates under his own power."

          "Is there no other way?" Turais asked feebly despite knowing the answer already.

          "We cannot stay," Andromeda said with a hint of sorrow. "Not after what happened."

 

***

 

          "We're leaving tomorrow morning," Andromeda said as they took a clandestine walk around the Black Lake the day after the winter storm finally passed. This was likely the last time the two cousins would spend such an extended time with each other in Hogwarts.

          "So soon?" Turais asked with a bit of sadness. He was not surprised about revelation as he anticipated this conversation when she asked to meet privately, but still, the thought of such a hasty retreat from Hogwarts weighed heavily on his mind.

          "Ted had already notified his parents about our arrival. We will meet with the Headmaster and hand in our withdrawal letters this afternoon."

          Turais simply nodded to the news, for there was simply nothing else to be said. They completed the lap in silence.

          As they arrived back at the castle, Andromeda turned around and said, "Don't tell Narcissa until we have left."

          Turais nodded wordlessly, but he was never good at following instructions. Therefore, he cornered Narcissa that night.

          "You should reconcile with your sister," Turais said firmly.

          "Save your breath," she returned sharply and moved to walk away only for Turais to block her path.

          "This could be the last chance you will speak with her in a long time," he gritted out.

          "So? It's not as if we talked a lot in the past couple of years," Narcissa said dismissively. She pushed on Turais's shoulder firmly, tipping him off-balance, and strolled off.

          Turais ran and caught up to her. Once again, he blocked her path and warned, "You will regret this."

          Narcissa's eyes flashed with indignation.

          "Try me," she hissed and walked around Turais. Whipping around, she jabbed her finger at Turais's face and enunciated lowly, "Do. Not. Follow. Me."

          Turais gasped in frustration as he watched her diminishing figure. His heart pounded, and his rationality engaged in an intense struggle with his conscience. He knew keeping Andromeda's confidence would result in a repeat of history. However, telling Narcissa about Andromeda's elopement was a gamble.

          With a pained growl, Turais pulled on his hair and stomped on the ground.

          "Narcissa!" The name ripped out of his throat gutturally. The girl stopped walking, and Turais wondered what he had just done. "She is with child," he whispered the secret out loud as the gentle draft carried it into Narcissa's ear. "You questioned why she chose Tonks over you. That's the answer. She chose her child and her own family."

          Turais breathed heavily as he pressed on with his bravado. "Do you dare disagree with me that when you marry Malfoy one day that you would not place your child and your own family above our family? If that is the case, walk away! If not, listen to me and talk to your sister."

          The girl stood there silently for a long moment before she continued to walk on, seemingly unperturbed by the enormity of Turais's confession. 

          Turais felt the last shreds of his hopes fade away as his soul was crushed by every step Narcissa took.

 

***

 

          It was a depressing, overcast winter morning. The graphite hues of the leaden clouds foreboded an impending assault of icy rain in several hours. It was as if the skies wanted to cry the tears that Turais refused to shed.

          The two Black brothers walked down the frost-covered path through the forest with Ted and Andromeda as two large luggage trailed behind them. Turais watched the couple silently. Ted had his left arm wrapped around Andromeda's shoulder with their right hands linked tightly. There was a soft, contented smile on both of their faces. It was as if each person was all the other needed in the world, and that was potentially the truth.

          However, one thing was without question. They were deeply in love.

          The walk to the school gates never felt shorter as it soon came time for them to say their goodbyes.

          Ted shook Turais's hand with a firm tug and a clasp on his shoulder. He said, "Thank you for everything, Turais."

          "It's nothing," Turais gave a tight smile. "I have told Andy the same thing that I am telling you now. If you ever need anything at all, please don't hesitate to contact me. I will do my best to help."

          "You're always welcome to visit us. Andy will love that," Ted said before he stepped back to let Andromeda walk forward.

          "Turais..." she said with a voice filled with thick emotions, "... I... I don't know what to say but thank you. Thank you for everything you have done for me. Thank you for supporting Ted and me. Thank you for making me feel less lonely..."

          Her eyes glistened with welling tears as she took Turais's hands into hers and said, "Most importantly... thank you... for letting me believe that there is hope for our family yet."

          "Don't be silly," Turais said, his voice wobbling slightly as well.

          She turned to Sirius and ruffled his long locks of hair.

          "I'll miss you, Sirius," she said.

          "I'll miss you too," Sirius said softly with a nod.

          "You're lucky to have such an amazing brother," she said with a small amused smile. "Merlin knows how much I would love to have an older brother like him growing up. Make sure you listen to him and be good to him."

          "I know..." Sirius said, shuffling his feet in the crunching ice.

          "You still have that fake Galleon, right?" Turais asked.

          "Of course," Andromeda nodded as she took the identical coin from her pocket.

          "If you run into any trouble, give a shout," Turais said solemnly.

          "Well, I guess this is goodbye," she said with a sigh as she took Ted's hand once again.

          "For now," Turais added.

          "For now," Andromeda repeated with a smile.

          Turais and Sirius watched as they walked towards the gates, which slowly swung open as they approached. But just before they crossed the boundary, there was a rustling of grass behind them. Turais turned to look and saw Narcissa running towards them.

          Below her thick outer fur coat, Turais could see her silk pyjama trousers and slippers. Breathing heavily with puffs of vapour whipping around her tousled hair, she glanced at the surprised Turais before staring at her sister, who was in a similar state of shock.

          Red in her cheeks from the cold and physical exertion, she gasped sharply, "You weren't planning on leaving without saying goodbye, were you?"

          "Cissy, I thought -"

          "Because you thought that I would not want to say goodbye to my closest sister, or that I would not want to keep in touch, or that I would not want to know about your baby?" Narcissa shouted as she stumbled closer. Andromeda cast a glance at a guilt-ridden Turais before turning her attention back to her sister. "This is your problem, Andy! You always do whatever pleases you with no concern for other people's input! You are quitting school, getting disowned, and turning your back on your family for a Muggleborn! You are just -" Narcissa made a grunt of infuriated frustration, "- you are so stupid!"

          The younger sister's pants filled the silence. When her breath smoothed out, she continued with a pained quiver in her voice, "But you're my sister, Andy. Having your face blasted off the tapestry won't change that fact. But you... you wouldn't even tell me that you are leaving, or where you are going to..." Tears started to well up in her eyes as she continued between gasps, "... Do you not care about me anymore?"

          Andromeda rushed up to her crying sister and held her tight. "Never, Cissy. Never. I care so much for you. I never want to hurt you in any way."

          "But you did," Narcissa sobbed, tears now freely streaming from her face. "We were still arguing yesterday, and you let my final words to you be hurtful and filled with anger. How am I supposed to live with myself when the last memory I have of you is of me yelling at you and saying awful, awful things?"

          "I shouldn't have left you like this, Cissy," Andromeda said, tears rolling down her cheeks as well. "It is my fault."

          The sisters hugged each other and cried cathartically. Finally, they calmed down and released each other from their tight embrace.

          "I will not be allowed to contact you," Narcissa said quietly, which was followed by a small hiccup. "Especially after you are disowned. So this is the last time I will see you in a long time."

          "I... I know..." Andromeda whispered the damning truth in return. "But I can tell you our address so you know -"

          "No. Don't," Narcissa said firmly. "I... It will be better for him and the baby if I don't know where you are."

          The underlying message was bone-chilling but also a reality that they all understood.

          "Take care of yourself, Andy... and your baby..."

          She placed a hand gently on Andromeda's belly. If only for a brief moment, Narcissa looked as if all her worries suddenly disappeared as her eyes lit up in softness and marvel.

          "I... I will."

          Narcissa nodded. She looked at Ted and commanded, "Take care of Andy."

          "I..." Ted gasped in shock. It was likely the first time that the girl ever addressed him properly. "Yes, I promise."

          She nodded curtly before stepping away. Andromeda looked as if she yearned for the physical contact as she leaned forward only to stop herself.

          "Go," Narcissa said. "Leave before I stop you from doing so."

          "Cissy -"

          "I said go," the younger sister gritted out as she turned around with her eyes closed.

          Andromeda nodded in acceptance.

          "Goodbye, Cissy."

          Andromeda nodded at Turais appreciatively before taking Ted's proffered hand. Turning back to look at the ancient castle for one final time, they walked out of the school ground and into the unknown future.

           The gates groaned and creaked as they closed and locked. Turais eyed the shivering girl carefully and said, "I can cast a Warming Ch-"

           "Don’t do anything! Haven’t you caused enough damage?!" Narcissa sniped. In the silence, the lone figure walked back to the castle as the brothers looked on.

Chapter 51: Unexpected Expectations (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

- ravenclawblues 2021-03-05

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

UNEXPECTED EXPECTATIONS


 

 

          " ACHOO! "

          "Bless you," Jonty gasped with a hand over his pounding heart as Alex sniffed.

          "Are you feeling alright?" Turais asked.

          "Yeah..." Alex said, sounding nasally. He sniffed again. "I think so... ACHOO! "

          "Maybe you should just drop by the Hospital Wing," Turais suggested. What Turais thought would be the last big winter storm two weeks ago turned out to be the penultimate storm as the Scottish Highlands were struck by another wintry storm several days ago. "You might have fallen ill from the cold snap last week. But there's nothing that a Pepper-Up can't fix."

          "Maybe I should..." Alex admitted. "You two go ahead to breakfast first. I will join later."

          They parted ways at the Grand Staircase as Alex headed further up. Jonty and Turais headed to their seats and noted that Malfoy was absent as usual. However, Malfoy rarely showed his face at meals ever since Turais had returned, so nothing was particularly suspicious.

          There was a sudden swell of murmur and excitement in the room with heads turning and fingers pointing towards the heavy oak doors. Turais looked and saw Kaiden walking in with Michael, carefully holding him by the arm. After three weeks of not seeing the boy, Turais was delighted to see his return to Hogwarts.

          Now sporting a head of long, wavy hair with naturally curly ends that grazed the back of his collared shirt, he looked uncomfortable at the attention. At the sudden wave of applause and hoots of joy, he shrunk back slightly and pressed his shoulder into Michael's as he hid his right arm behind his back. There was a frown on his face as Michael whispered something in his ear.

          The Gryffindor nodded as they both walked towards the Slytherin table.

          There was an awkward pause as the clapping slowly tapered out as everyone eyed the two boys curiously. It was then that Turais stood up and walked towards them.

          "Kaiden," he stopped in front of the boy, who gave him a weak smile. "It's good to have you back."

          Turais was about to clasp the boy on the shoulder when he saw the flash of panic on his face. Turais stilled his hand and twirled around smoothly, transitioning the stilted stop into a gesture of guiding them to their seat next to his.

          The activity in the Hall soon resumed as the people around them watched as Michael helped Kaiden with everything. Ranging from pouring pumpkin juice into cups to reaching for toast on a distant plate, Michael was at Kaiden's beck and call while Jonty looked on with a confused frown on his face.

          Michael was Kaiden's dutiful boyfriend, fiancé, or husband-to-be, after all. Despite lacking an official declaration of their relationship, Turais supposed that he needed to get used to the sore sight sooner or later.

          Once the attention was no longer focused on him, Kaiden's demeanour relaxed considerably as well. Although Turais noted that he was still very conscious of his injured arm, he hugged it tightly between his stomach and the table. More than once, when someone brushed past him on his right, he flinched as if their touch scalded him. He also tugged on the sleeve of his robe constantly as if he was trying to hide it from view.

          "It's nice to see you well, Kaiden," Catherine greeted as she walked up to them. She glanced at Turais and gave a curt nod before looking back at the Gryffindor. "Have you fully recovered?"

          "Almost," Kaiden said softly. "But they think I am cleared for school as long as I don't over-exert myself."

          "I'm certain that Wilkins will keep you on a tight leash," Catherine smiled kindly. Michael nodded seriously. "We need to catch up some time later. Promise?"

          "Promise."

          "Good," she gave Kaiden a small hug. "It's good to have you back."

          The Ravenclaw then walked back to her seat nearby.

          "What happened between you two when I was gone?" Kaiden asked innocently.

          "It's a long story," Turais sighed. He gave Kaiden a pained grimace before turning back to the plate in front of him. He asked conversationally, "So... how does it feel like being back?"

          "Odd, but in a good way, I suppose."

          "Did you miss me?" Turais smirked.

          "It's been boring without your daily visitation," he said softly as he took a bite of the bacon with the fork in his left hand.

          "I apologize that I cannot be your plaything," Turais grinned.

          "Apology accepted," Kaiden said with a small smile.

          "You should take everything slowly," he counseled. "It will take some time to get back into the groove of things after being away for so long."

          The boy nodded readily. "I will. I'm just glad I don't have my NEWTs in three months."

          "Also, you have a personal assistant," Turais glanced at Michael, who looked up in confusion at the sudden attention. "Exploit it."

          "I will," Kaiden chuckled. Finally, he flashed a broad smile that was reminiscent of the carefree boy Turais knew before... well before everything happened. It calmed Turais's mind, and he sighed a breath of relief. He knew that psychological damage ran deeper than the physical wounds, but Kaiden had plenty of friends and family to help him through the difficult times.

          Then, the owls descended from the skies with parcels and goods. Turais had two items dropped on his lap, but he unwrapped the newspaper first. Then, he gasped.

          "This cannot possibly be happening!" Turais gritted out as he slammed the newspaper onto the table. The Auror Offices and DMLE decided that the Kiss administered was proper and legal. They also closed their investigations on the Ministry attacks and the warehouse explosion. They touted their success in arresting the culprits, effectively piling all the crimes committed in the past months on three burnt corpses and a soulless vessel. "No trial? No hearings? No disciplinary actions? This is a blatant cover-up!"

          "I heard from several students with Auror parents arguing against it as well, but they were in the minority," Jonty said. "They were appalled and deeply disturbed. Hey Potter, your father is Deputy Head! Did he say anything about this?"

          Kaiden tilted his head to read the paper and nodded with a frown, "I overheard my father complaining about it as well on the way here."

          "That does not begin to describe this situation," Turais wondered out loud. "There are only two possible explanations for his irrational actions. Either the Head Auror is a shrewd coward unable to face the truth or that he is complicit, and this was his way to tie up any loose ends." 

          "Do not accuse my father of cowardice or complicity!" A voice spoke angrily behind them. Turais looked around to see Catherine's coloured face as she walked up to them angrily. "He is a great man - an honest man who always does the right thing!"

          "This is nothing personal, Catherine," Turais said firmly as he stood up without breaking eye contact. "But there is something seriously wrong with this investigation. You cannot deny it."

          "I am sure my father did everything in accordance with the law and policies."

          "Concluding a high-profile serial murder case involving several Lords and an illegal Potions smuggling case in the span of three weeks?" Turais challenged. "Even if it were in accordance with the policies, this would be a rushed job at best and criminal negligence at worst! And that is if he is truly innocent-"

          "Don't you dare even suggest that my father is in league with the terrorists again!"

          "Then explain his actions to me," Turais implored. There were footsteps approaching them. “As outsiders, all we see is that your father is possibly implicated in this.”

          Catherine looked around and suddenly noticed that all the other students nodded silently. There was a flash of fear and uncertainty, but her gaze hardened as she snarled, "What does a third-year know about how Aurors conduct their business?!"

          "Catherine, perhaps we can continue this conversation later and in private -”

          “No!” Catherine shouted, “We will not be having this conversation any further. My father is a great man. He, of all people, would not be associated with Dark wizards, as you were unjustly implying.”

          "Ms Shafiq! Mr Black!" Professor McGonagall's voice blared out disapprovingly. "What is the matter here?"

          "We are having a spirited discussion, Professor," Turais said. "And someone is adamant about avoiding the truth."

          "Someone is equally as determined to impose his opinion on others."

          "Facts aren't opinions."

          "And your words aren't facts."

          "Silence!" Professor McGonagall shouted. She glared at the two with a mixture of concern and disappointment. "I never imagined I would ever say this, but ten points apiece from Ms Shafiq and Mr Black for this 'spirited discussion.'"

          Looking around the silent crowd of students who were soaking in the dramatic confrontation, she started to shoo them to look away.

          Turais turned around and sat down in a huff as a series of footsteps stomped away into the distance.

          "So..." Kaiden prompted after a while.

          "I don't want to talk about it," Turais said, still fuming slightly. Then, his ears picked up Catherine's voice in the distance.

          "... can't believe he just did that to me in front of the entire school!" she hissed angrily.

          Turais turned to glance at the Ravenclaw table and saw her whispering to her friends agitatedly. A pang of regret hit his chest as he turned back to see Kaiden looking at him inquisitively. Then, he was distracted by a slice of apple fed to him by Michael.

          “Thanks, Michael.”

          There was a loud clatter of metal on china behind him that distracted the both of them. Turais whipped his head around to see Jonty's jaw hanging uselessly as his comically-widened eyes darted between Michael and Kaiden. His left hand reached upwards and he pulled on a fistful of immaculately-combed hair as his right hand shakily pointed between the new couple in muted shock.

          Finally, he seemed to have rediscovered his voice as he yelled out, "In the name of Merlin's saggy left -"

          "Mr Steward!" Professor McGonagall called out warningly in the near distance.

 

***

 

          "Did you know her paternal grandparents were killed by Grindelwald?" Kaiden asked suddenly as they were taking a walk around the school grounds later that day.

          Turais looked up in surprise. 

          "No, I didn't know that."

          "They were Aurors," Kaiden revealed. "And they both died at his Paris rally - you know - the infamous one at the Lestrange Mausoleum?"

          "Oh, I do," Turais whispered. The reason Turais remembered this particular historic event was because it caused the death of dozens of British and French Aurors. As a result, there was a special commemorative service at the Auror Office every year for the Aurors who had fallen under the hands of Grindelwald. It was the singularly most destructive event to the Auror forces outside the three official wars - one against Grindelwald and two against Voldemort.

          "Yeah, the last thing her father, who was orphaned by a Dark Lord, would do is to join a similar blood purity fanatic group. So, it was not your brightest moment to accuse her father as a sympathizer of fanatic views. You should apologize to her."

          Turais sighed.

          "I was being tactless," Turais admitted. "My frustration got the better of me, and I shouldn't have discussed this publicly in front of her. But I didn’t expect her to react so violently."

          "Turais, she had to defend her father,” Kaiden said. “What other outcomes were there? For her to say, 'Yes, you're right. My father is implicated. Throw him in jail, please.'"

          “You… you are right,” Turais sighed.

          "And…” Kaiden eyed Turais curiously. “Is it really only about the investigation?"

          "Of course, it is about the investigation," Turais scoffed.

          "I mean... With your extensive knowledge of how the Auror Office works, you must know that Michael’s father, who is the Head of DMLE, had to authorize the Kiss as well. Why weren't you screaming at him?"

          That was a good question. And Turais had no answer for it.

          "How do you know I'm not about to?"

          "Well, first off, don't make my boyfriend sad, or I will be holding you accountable," Kaiden said sternly. "But, second of all... No, you weren't. Even I can lie better than that, you prat." Turais fell silent as the Gryffindor continued, "Do you really not know the reason? You're more self-aware than that."

          "You really do fancy yourself as a relationship guru, don't you?" Turais said wryly.

          “No, I’ve just been through it all,” Kaiden said with a grin. “- and recognize the signs.”

          "I know what you are trying to make me admit to, but I won't because I'm not."

          "You care about what she thinks, though," Kaiden pointed out. "At least enough to make a scene in front of everyone. And admit it, you never make a scene unless it involves your family."

          "That's enough," Turais said with a hint of annoyance. Perhaps, this was a blessing in disguise and a natural way for him to distance himself from her. His instincts told him that whatever he would likely discover about her father would not earn him any positive emotions from her. "If you were expecting an epiphany, I am sorry to disappoint. Also, I'm not apologizing to her."

          Kaiden sighed exasperatedly. "But -"

          A couple of Hufflepuffs appeared around the bushes, and Kaiden flinched. He stood them awkwardly as the two girls passed them with confused glances directed at them. Only once they were out of sight did Kaiden relax to his normal state.

          " Uh... are you alright?" Turais asked.

          "I... I'm perfectly fine," Kaiden said in a rush. He then fixed his gaze at a distant point blankly as he rubbed his right shoulder. He turned to look down at Turais and smiled weakly, "So... so what were we talking about?"

          Turais eyed the boy worriedly but started on a more casual topic of conversation.

         When Turais returned to the castle, he came across the bespectacled Gryffindor grinning widely with an arm around an annoyed Severus who was constantly trying to shrug off the contact. Trailing behind them, Lily was eyeing James with a healthy dose of skepticism and concern.

         Once the band stopped before him, James extended his hand out expectantly.

         "Ten Galleons please," he said with an elfish smile.

         Turais frowned in confusion for a moment before he realized what he meant. Right... ten Galleons per new Slytherin friend James made. This was the sixth one.

         "How are you going to prove it?" Turais asked, sharing Lily's sense of suspicion.

         "Well... easy..." James grinned as he pulled Severus closer to him. However, the scowl Severus directed towards the boy looked absolutely deadly. "On a count of three, what is Sev's -"

         "Oh, Merlin's pants," Severus grumbled as he hid his face with his hands.

         However, James continued to smile, unperturbed, as he said,"- favourite subject? Three. Two. One! Potions!"

         There was a moment's delay after James's answer that Severus gave a weak grunt of "Potions."

         "What is my favourite Quidditch League team? Sev, you have to know this one, right? Three. Two. One!"

         Severus looked as if he was kidnapped at wand-point and wanted to be far away from the ecstatic kidnapper beside him. He muttered an unenthusiastic, "Puddlemere United" to James's overly zealous one.

         "See," James looked at Turais triumphantly as if that pathetic display proved anything. "Best mates for life!"

         "Are we done yet?" Severus gritted out.

         Turais valiantly suppressed his urge to share an eye roll with an equally unimpressed Lily.

         "Right... So Severus, is James your friend? Truly?"

         Severus glanced at James, who gave him his best puppy-eyed look, before he turned around and heaved a long, suffering sigh.

         "Whatever, sure."

         Turais knew he was giving James a huge pass, but at least this was a vast improvement from before. He rummaged his wallet for coins and slapped them into James's eager hands.

         "Thanks, Turais!" James said excitedly as he started to sprint away, "Bye, Severus. Bye, Lily."

         "Turais!" Lily hissed in annoyance. "How could you fall for this?!"

         "Let it go, Lily," Severus said tiredly. "Hopefully, he can stop pestering us from now on."

         "Stop pestering you, you mean," Lily accused despairingly as she pinched and twisted Severus's ear. The boy shouted out in pain, but Lily held on. "That boy will never leave me alone!"

         "I'm sorry!" Severus said so pleadingly that it was nearly a sob. " Owowowowow... lighter - oooo - lighter, Lily, please..."

         Lily let go before she sighed, "It felt so nice to not have Potter bothering me... my freedom is no more..."

         "I never knew you were so melodramatic," Turais noted.

         "Have you met the boy? It's truly a wonder that I'm not worse."

         That was a statement Turais could agree with.

 

***

 

          " ACHOO! "

          Alex's entire body shook at the sneeze. He was under several layers of warm clothes with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck as they roamed the castle hallways on the fifth floor. 

          "Are you still feeling ill?" Turais asked. Alex's eyes were blood-shot, and his nose was red from all the sneezing and rubbing. "It's been almost a week."

          "Looks like it," Jonty said, eyeing his friend with a hint of concern.

          "You took Madam Pomfrey's Pepper-Up consistently, right?"

          Alex nodded.

          "I think it is just... just... ju- ACHOO! " Alex let out a thunderous sneeze before he continued, "... I think it's an allergy or some strange bug. The fresh air is already making me feel much better."

          Turais frowned as the boy shivered again. However, he swallowed his dissenting comment. They turned the corner into the scenic hallway when they saw Michael and Kaiden sitting on a bench together looking out over the Black Lake. They were sitting close together, shoulder-by-shoulder, as Kaiden pointed at something in the distance and talked. All the while, Michael just focused his gaze on Kaiden with a soft, tender smile on his face.

          "Abort... abort..." Jonty immediately spun around on the spot and walked away from the sight quickly. Turais did the same, but Alex was utterly confused when he found himself yanked backwards by his two friends.

          "Wait, I thought we were going -"

          "We are not interrupting them," Jonty said.

          "What do you mean?"

          "Uh... Alex, are you in there?" Jonty pretended to knock on Alex's head near his temple, but Alex swatted the hand away in annoyance.

          "I'm dizzy as it is, Jonty..."

          Jonty put up an index finger and said, "Potter."

          Then, he put up his other index finger and said, "Wilkins."

          He brought the fingers together in parallel and looked at Alex expectantly. However, the boy only blinked before he sneezed again.

          "They are a couple!" Jonty hissed. Alex frowned as if he did not understand the concept, so Jonty continued to explain, "You know, like when two people like each other and they -"

          He puckered his lips and made a kissing sound. Alex tilted his head and blinked in confusion. After several seconds, they saw the instant the information was processed in his mind. Alex looked up in shock and exclaimed, "OHH!!!!"

          "That took a while, but we made it," Jonty wiped his hand across his brow dramatically.

          "But... but they are... like... you know..." Alex said awkwardly.

          "Like what?" Jonty asked, now looking confused.

          "Like... two boys?"

          "Yeah...? What's your point?" Jonty asked. "Or, are you asking about the whole heir situation?"

          "I guess... sure?" Alex wrung his arms helplessly.

          "Well, Potter does not stand to inherit the title because his younger cousin, James Potter, is the main scion of the family and, thus, in the direct line of succession. So, having an heir is less of an issue for him. Wilkins, on the other hand, is the only male heir of his family. So, I suppose the family line ends with him then..."

          "What a pity..." Jonty said whimsically. "But, his family can't disown him now for not securing an heir. After all, he paid off all the family's debts with that Basilisk skin. And I suppose he also has more than a couple of Galleons leftover in his vault to rub together. So even if they do disown him, he is a rich man now who doesn't have to care what anyone else thinks about who he marries."

          "Sorry, can we circle back to my other question?" Alex asked apologetically. "But... do you not care that they are... like... two boys?"

          "Alex, most Slytherin pureblood families worry about securing an heir to continue the family line, but otherwise, a marriage between two people of the same sex is not taboo in the magical world," Turais explained. "Unlike the Muggle world."

          "Why are you explaining this like Alex's a child?" Jonty chuckled. "It's not like he's raised by Muggles or what have you."

          Turais winced at the words spoken by the oblivious boy.

          "Oh... Mu... must be nice..." Alex nodded. His head started to tilt up and his mouth widened as Jonty jumped away. " ACHOO! "

          "Let's get you back to the common room before you get any worse," Turais declared as he herded them back to the relative safety of the Slytherin dungeons away from the cold.

 

***

 

          Soon, the Easter holiday was upon them. On the last day of classes, hours before they were due on the home-bound Hogwarts Express, Turais had finally gotten around to playing Gobstones with Sirius.

          " Dissendium! "

          Turais heard James yell at a random statue at the end of a corridor as he was playing, and losing, a game of Gobstones to Sirius in an empty classroom. He had been squirted with foul-smelling liquid on his face as Lily, Severus, and Remus laughed.

          "Has he not given up on that yet?' Turais asked as he heard James's shouting of the password again, albeit much fainter.

          "He's persistent. I'll give him that," Lily, who was sitting on a desk nearby, said distractedly as she read a Charms textbook.

          "At this point, I'd be more worried if he stops saying it," Remus commented. "Either he's figured out whatever secret is behind that word, or he's lying dead somewhere."

          "That's a little excessive..." Lily said with a frown, "...  But you know what? He's exactly that. Excessive . Oh, Turais!" Lily looked at him in earnest, "I meant to ask how is Alex doing? I heard he was terribly ill for quite some time now."

          "Oh, he is doing fine now," Turais said, focusing his attention on a well-placed Gobstone that Sirius just blocked his pieces. "It suddenly cleared up a few days ago quite miraculously. Reckon it was from the cold snap."

          "That's good to hear," Lily said. She jabbed her wand at a random point carelessly and muttered, " Glacius ."

          There was a panicked yip as Sirius jumped from where he was lying. Turais looked down and saw a glistening patch of ice with icy tendrils creeping outwards slowly towards the Gobstones. The room temperature also took a plunge as everyone's breathes started to form thick clouds of vapour.

          "Of all the things you could've practiced, did you have to do the Freezing Charm?" Sirius asked an apologetic Lily with a scowl. "It's already cold enough these days."

          "That was a third-year Charm, Lily! You're a natural!" Severus said excitedly beside her.

          "Thanks... Sev," Lily said brightly. She turned to Sirius and grimaced, "Sorry, Sirius."

          Sirius stuck out his tongue at her before turning to the partially frozen-over Gobstones playing area. Several of his pieces were also iced in place.

          "Now what?" He said dejectedly. "We didn't even get through a game -"

          A loud slam from the door against the stone wall interrupted Sirius's sentence as everyone turned to look at the sudden visitor.

          It was Jonty, panting and looking flushed from the running. A few seconds later, Alex caught up to him as well, breathing laboriously.

          "Turais..." Jonty gasped as he waved the crumpled newspaper in his hand, ".... this... this..."

          Sirius snatched it out of his hand first. His eyes widened more and more as he read alone.

          "Turais..." Sirius said shakily as he held out the paper.

          Confused and feeling a bit nervous, Turais took the paper gingerly and read the title.

          ' LYCANTHROPY POTION APPROVED BY MINISTRY!

          The paper slipped between Turais's fingers in shock as he looked at Remus, who looked back curiously.

          "The Wolfsbane Potion is finally approved!" Turais breathed out. After nearly a year of waiting, a Minchum-led Potions Association had given their stamp of approval on the recipe.

 

***

 

         There was a large celebration at 12 Grimmauld Place, and the entire house was buzzing with excitement. Most of his friends were present as they snacked on the catered foods and drinks while Celestina Warbeck belted out her songs over the wireless. However, the entire occasion was strangely both overwhelming and underwhelming. It was overwhelming due to its far-reaching implications, including a direct benefit for werewolves such as Remus. All the while, it was underwhelming given the year-long crawl towards this seemingly inevitable result. Regardless, Turais knew it was a moment worthy of commemorating.

         Eyeing a lull in the party, Turais escaped from whizzing firecrackers and deafening shouts to his room for a moment of peace. Glancing outside, he saw a dome of plasma-blue with clouds that looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of the sun. It was a rare sight in London, especially during the spring months.

         However, it was not to last as the wind picked up and quickly turned the beautiful cocktail-blue skies into darkened shade of gravel-grey. Large pillows of clouds were conglomerating and blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun. A tinkling sound started as the first pearls of rain dropping from the heavens onto the rustling leaves.

         Within seconds, the gentle sprinkle turned into an opaque wall of rain that drummed heavily against any exposed surface. Huge globs of water smacked down noisily on the window as Turais observed adults and children alike running for cover outside. Puddles began plonking as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray as windshield wipers were now engaged in a losing battle against the torrential rain. 

         There was a man, Turais noted, that stood resolutely across the street by the gates as the last of the children fled past him towards shelter. Suddenly, the man disappeared. And not a second later, the doorbell rang.

         Turais rushed out of his room to peer down the stairs as Orion closed the kitchen door behind him. The Silencing Charm on the door instantly cut off the loud noises from the party as only his footsteps echoed in the hallway as he walked towards the door. Kreacher suddenly appeared with a tiny pop. He reached up to his bony arm and grabbed onto the doorknob. The front door swung open as the first sound of thunder split the air outside to reveal a rain-drenched figure in a long, black trench coat. His face remained hidden in the shadow cast by the hat on his head. 

         "Who are you?" Orion asked as Turais saw him palming his wand discreetly behind his back.

         "Master Black," the man's voice growled out as he stepped past the threshold and into the light. The man's hair was black as ink. His skin was sallow and pale white. His features were bony, pointed, and taunt without a hint of muscle or fat between the skull and skin. However, his eyes were sharp, attentive and glistening in their slits of obsidian darkness. 

         "Yes?" Orion's voice wavered slightly. "Who are you?"

         "I am Alexander's... father, Howard Fawley," the man said as he removed his hat and handed it off to Kreacher.

         Orion froze, as did Turais. The infamous recluse - Howard Fawley? The man continued to shed his outer jacket to reveal a sleek three-piece suit beneath as he looked at Orion once again. It was then that Orion snapped out of his stupor and stored his wand. Orion extended his hand, and the man held it with only his thumb and index finger for the slightest shake before he released it.

         Orion frowned but retracted his hand. He motioned to the sitting room and said, "Please -" But the man was already walking into the room. A second later, the man snarled loudly, his words inaudible. Then, there was a dull thud and crash in the room.

         Orion peeked his head inside the room to find Howard Fawley stumbling into an armchair on the far side of the room. There were shards from a broken vase beside the table that he likely tripped over.

         Orion looked up at Turais and said quickly, "Turais, please bring Alex to the sitting room."

         Turais went into the kitchen where the tiny space was filled with festive spirits.

         "The man of the hour is back!" Alex shouted over the loud music from the wireless as he swung an arm around Turais.

         "Alex. Your father is here," Turais yelled into his ear.

         "What did you say?"

         "I said, your father is here," Turais repeated. He watched as the boy's elated expression slowly morphed into a stern frown.

         Subdued, Alex set down his drink as he followed Turais out into the ringing silence of the hallway. When they walked through the sitting room, Mr Fawley was already seated in an armchair by the fireplace with one leg crossed over the other. The flickering light from the amber flames only served to make him look even more skeleton-like. Turais could even imagine a whiff of rot and decay in the air.

         "Mr Fawley," Turais said as the man's gaze bored into his eyes. "I'm -"

         "Master Turais Black, yes..." the man said with a predatory glint in his eye. "What a well-bred, pureblood boy -" Turais could feel Orion tugging him backward while he stepped forward slightly.

         "Your son, Mr Fawley," Orion said loudly. The man's gaze on him lingered for a moment longer before he turned to his son. But a split second and disgusted sneer later, he returned his gaze to the fireplace. Alex fidgeted nervously beside him.

         "He’s not my son," the man growled caustically with his eyes still fixated on Turais.

         "Worthless..."

         "Pardon me?" Turais said as everyone turned to look at him. Turais faltered, "Sorry... I thought I... please excuse my behaviour." The man continued to stare at Turais unblinkingly. Turais looked at the reflection of the flickering flame above the still depths of darkness below. There was a gentle tug in his mind as he was drawn further and further and further... until he realized that he was staring at Orion's back. Orion was now blocking him entirely from the man's view. Turais wondered if he had just experienced some Legilimens attack... but he rechecked his mental shields and found it completely intact without any trace of infiltration.

         "What is your business?" Orion asked tensely. The man's eyes suddenly turned dull as he looked around the room as though he was in search of something.

         "Where am I?" The man whispered to himself as his eyes gazed over the green wallpaper, a tense Orion and then Alex. Suddenly, his gaze sharpened again. He shouted with contempt as he thrust a finger accusingly at him, "You! I shall talk to YOU!"

         "The room is all yours," Orion said as he dragged Turais out of the room. Orion closed the door shut. He then spun around and hissed, "Turais, join the others."

         "Why?" He whispered in return, "I don't trust that man with Alex."

         "Just do as I say," Orion said urgently. Something in his voice was desperate and pleading. "Go to the kitchen and stay there..."

         There was a brief stand-off before Turais relented. He swung the kitchen door open to a similar silence as he watched everyone scattering away, pretending as if they weren't listening through the door.

         "He looks ugly," Sirius said.

         James snickered and punched Sirius lightly on the shoulder. "Took the words right out of my mouth, mate." 

         Lily rolled her eyes and asked Turais with concern, "Who's that man?"

         Turais, who knew more about that man than seemingly most people on the planet, put on an innocent smile and said, "He's just Alex's father."

         "Has he ever talked about his father before?" Gerald asked. "I just assumed he has a father."

         "Alex's father," Jane repeated the words, which felt as foreign to say as an alien language.

         "I don't think so," Alice responded. "He never talks about his family."

         "I only know that he is a famed recluse," Jonty whispered excitedly as he continued to peek through the keyhole. "But everyone knows that, and not much else."

         "Are we in any danger?" Regulus hissed into Turais’s ear softly.

         "Of course not!" Turais said comfortingly.

         "And we know magic as well!" James exclaimed as he thumped Regulus's back. "We will keep you safe."

         Regulus frowned at James’s hand that was resting on his shoulder. He moved closer to Turais, causing the hand to slide off. Then, all of them heard a door slam open, followed by quick footsteps. Finally, they heard the sound of the front door opening. Moments later, there was a sharp knock on the door. Turais opened the door, and there Orion was, looking slightly frazzled.

         The father looked down in surprise at all the expectant faces. He quickly put on a smile and said, "I see there's not a lot of Butterbeer left. Let me get some from upstairs." He looked at Turais and tilted his head to beckon him along.

         "Where is Alex?" Turais asked as he closed the door shut on the prying eyes and ears.

         "He's still in the sitting room," Orion confirmed.

         Turais eyed down the hallway where Kreacher was slowly closing the door and said, "Mr Fawley was acting quite odd -"

         "I do not want any association with Mr Fawley after today. There is something seriously wrong with that man. It was like he's -"

         Orion's breath hitched as his eyes widened in realization.

         "What is it, father?" Turais asked.

         "No... nothing... nothing, just a stray thought..." Orion said distractedly as he started muttering to himself. Turais could only catch the words "Ministry records."

         "So... your father, huh," Turais said after he entered the sitting room and sat beside Alex.

         Alex nodded as he gripped the fabric over his knees so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

         "What did he say to you?" Turais asked.

         "Just that... that he wanted to visit me since I didn't go home for such a long time," Alex said shakily.

         "Did he ask you to return with him to the Manor?" Turais prompted.

         "No... thank Merlin," Alex chuckled, nervously, as he continued to stare at his tightly-held fists. "He very much enjoys my absence."

         Turais wondered why Alex was not more excited about the prospect.

         “But… but he said something really strange…” Alex said in a hushed whisper.

         “What is it?” Turais asked.

         “He… he said I am going to suffer… just like he did. But I… I don’t know what he meant by that…”

         Turais’s jaw dropped at the callous words, but eyeing the disturbed boy, Turais resumed a calm disposition and said, “Ignore what he said. You are safe with us.”

         Alex merely nodded as he continued to sit despondently. However, Turais did not blame him as even he was shocked by Howard Fawley’s sinister appearance, appalling behaviour, and unsettling conversation. Turais shivered at the thought that Alex had to spend any amount of time with that man in the house.

         Turais hoped that Alex's father would never appear in front of them again.

 

***

 

          Arcturus made a surprise visit the following day. With Howard Fawley's appearance still fresh on everyone's mind, Turais had little doubt about what the visit was about. Turais, Orion, and Arcturus were seated around the kitchen alone after Kreacher served tea and popped out of existence.

          "I am disappointed that I had to learn the news of Howard Fawley's visit from your friend, Jonathan Steward," Arcturus said calmly as he placed down his cup of tea.

          "Father -"

          Arcturus held his hand up without looking at his son, and Orion fell silent. Boring his grey eyes into Turais's green ones, he said, "Turais, is there anything you wish to say on the matter?"

          "No," Turais said curtly.

          "Now, now. Don't be short on me, Turais," Arcturus replied sternly.

          "Ask father to tell you then," Turais said as he stood to leave. The legs of his chair screeched noisily against the wooden floor as it slid backwards. "He saw more than I did."

          "Turais..." Orion said weakly as Turais walked around the corner of the table. However, a cane swung up in front of him and barred his path. He looked down at his grandfather angrily.

          "Sit down," Arcturus enunciated the words slowly and firmly. "We have a lot to discuss."

          "Like what?"

          Arcturus merely looked on impassively until Turais returned to his seat with a huff.

          "Turais, you do understand that I am not your enemy. Of all the Lords within the Wizengamot, I might not be the one whom you agree with most, but I am the only one you can trust not to betray you." Arcturus sipped on his tea slightly and continued, "Whether Howard Fawley decides to take his seat in the Wizengamot is no longer of any concern to me," Arcturus said. "The Malfoy alliance is in disarray with the death of Abraxas. The Blacks are now unchallenged for the Dark family support, and the Fawley seat will not affect that."

          "What is your point exactly?"

          "If you are as clever as you think you are, you must realize that I am your greatest asset in the Wizengamot right now. This means the prospects of certain legislations... including Harold Minchum's Potions for Underprivileged Persons Subsidy Act, would be boosted with my approval." Arcturus asked with a shadow of a smile. "I'm sure you have vested interest in this particular little bill."

          Turais sat wordlessly. What Arcturus said was all true. However, the timing of his visit also coincided with the approval of the Wolfsbane Potion. Turais knew that Arcturus was also aware of the increased political capital and attention he now enjoyed.

          He now knew the true intention of Arcturus’s visit. It was not for his account of Howard Fawley but an opportunity to ease the tension between them that lasted since last November. Arcturus wanted to silently extend a sense of goodwill and also point out the realities of their relationship and the power dynamics. This was to make sure Turais recognized that a synergistic, cooperative relationship was the best way forward.

          "And I should also note that I am well aware of the... supportive role you played in Andromeda's elopement," Arcturus said. Orion's eyes widened in surprise, but only for a brief moment. "I merely elected not to speak of it. After all, listening to the portraits' description of Pollux's irate state brings warmth and contentment to my heart."

          Turais nodded.

          "Very well," Arcturus said as he stood up. "That is all I have to say today. Congratulations on the approval of your potion, Turais."

          He pointed his wand at the kitchen door, and it swung open to reveal Sirius and Regulus peeking through the keyhole. Caught red-handed, they immediately snapped to attention and bowed.

          "Grandfather," they said in unison. As they straightened their backs, Regulus looked up at Arcturus dutifully while Sirius kept his eyes glued to the floor.

          Arcturus's relatively warm expression cooled immediately as his gaze landed on Sirius. He tapped his cane at a spot on the ground by Sirius's foot and said, "I had to suffer through the humiliation of learning about all the misdemeanours that you and the Potter boy have committed. And to think that you are the one who bears my name… You're fortunate that you're not the heir to this family and my fortunes. I would not have let this sort of behaviour slide so easily otherwise."

          He turned his gaze to Regulus and warned, "You are entering Hogwarts in several months. Consider carefully the examples your brothers have set before you and choose which path you wish to follow."

          "Yes, grandfather," Regulus said.

          "Father," Orion said as he stood at the doorway, "I... have something I would like to talk to you about briefly."

          "You should have said so earlier before I left the room," Arcturus said with a hint of annoyance as he returned to the kitchen. Orion gave his sons a weak smile before he locked the door and cast the Privacy charms.

          "Do not mind what grandfather just said," Turais said as he placed an encouraging pat on Sirius's shoulder, who was hanging his head in shame.

          Sirius shrugged Turais's hand off and nodded weakly, "I... I'll just... head upstairs."

          Turais and Regulus watched their brother climb up the stair dispiritedly. Once Sirius was out of earshot, Regulus turned to his oldest brother and said, "You shouldn't have said that."

          Turais looked down at his youngest brother questioningly.

          "He deserved it," Regulus explained with a shrug. "He broke the school rules. Deliberately. And not only once, but multiple times. He should be punished and scolded accordingly."

          Turais sighed. "I know... but he means well."

          "Perhaps. But just because he means well doesn't give him a complete pass when he does the wrong thing," Regulus countered. "You made him confess to the Professor and also pay back the Golds he swindled from his classmates, didn't you?"

          "Yes."

          "And why is that?" Regulus asked pointedly. "Because that is the right thing to do, isn't it? And also because you needed to tell him that what he did was improper."

          "You're right, Reggie," Turais sighed as he rubbed his temples tiredly. "He's... He's an idiot."

          "You say it as if that's news," Regulus said flatly. Their gazes connected, and they both cracked a grin.

          "He somehow still manages to surprise me even after all these years."

          "That's a talent, albeit an utterly useless one."

          "Hush, Reggie," Turais batted his brother's head lightly, who hissed in pain dramatically.

          "What?!" Regulus shouted as Turais headed up to Sirius’s room.

          He knocked on the doorframe lightly and asked, "Siri?"

          The boy was lying in bed with the blanket wrapped over his body completely.

          "Sirius, I'm coming in," he said after a second knock to no response. He sat down at the foot of the bed and patted the blanket cocoon. "Knock knock."

          There was a pause before the blankets shifted slightly. Then, Sirius's muffled voice said, "Who's there?"

          "Boo."

          "Boo who?" 

          "Why are you crying?"

          An awkward silence ensued as the blanket under Turais's hand wrapped tighter around Sirius's body.

          "I'm not crying. And that was... so atrocious that I never want to talk to you again," Sirius muttered.

          "Knock knock."

          There was an audible sigh.

          "You're not leaving me alone, are you?"

          "Nope," Turais said. "Knock knock, Sirius. Someone's at the door. Answer it."

          "We have a house-elf for a reason."

          "Kreacher didn't hear the knock because he is busy cleaning -"

          "Fine," Sirius interrupted. "Who's there?"

          "Sirius."

          "Oh, Merlin..." Sirius whined agonizingly. "Sirius who?"

          Turais let a tiny snort slip out as he replied, "Sirius-ly, why are you crying under the blankets?"

          "I seriously want to strangle you right now." 

          "'Sirius-ly want to'... That's not half-bad," Turais said with a grin as he tugged on the blanket. "But I still think mine is better. I have more -"

          "No, I had enough of your terrible jokes for today," Sirius struggled to keep the blanket around him. "Will you stop if I show my face?"

          "Only if you show it for the entire time we talk. And look directly at me as well," Turais said. "I'm not falling for the 'I showed it for one second, you never specified for how long' excuse."

          "Fine," he snapped and pulled down the blanket with a huff. Strands of hair were curtained messily on his face as he blew them out of his eyes. "What do you want?"

          Turais sobered up and said, "I know you must be upset about what grandfather said."

          "I'm not."

          "Siri -"

          "I'm really not," Sirius said as he sat up and brushed his hair aside. "He's right. I'm glad I'm not the Heir as well. I'm free to be whoever I am as long as you are around, right?"

          He gave Turais a forced smile.

          "Sirius, you and I both know that is not what I'm talking about."

          Sirius's smile fell. He dipped his head and picked at his blanket mindlessly. "I know... but what can either of us do about it? I cannot stop you from being yourself, and you can't stop me from being myself."

          Turais thought for a long while. Then, he sighed and conceded, "I suppose that is true."

          "So problem solved!" Sirius said with a grin. Something about this didn't sit right with Turais, but he didn't have the solution to it either.

          "Please tell me if there is anything - absolutely anything - that is bothering you, alright?" Turais stressed.

          Sirius nodded quietly again.

          "Good," Turais smiled as he ruffled Sirius's hair. "Your hair's tangled and knotted. Make sure you condition it if you want to keep it long, you scruff."

          "I know, mother," Sirius huffed as he swatted Turais's hand away with an eye-roll.

          "You brat," Turais said fondly.

          "Your one and only," Sirius said with a twitch of lips.

          Ending the conversation, he walked down the stairs and found Regulus sitting on a step mid-way as he scratched at the peeling paint on a baluster.

          "Hey Reggie," Turais greeted lightheartedly as he sat down beside him, but Regulus continued to focus his attention on his task.

          "You should stop coddling him."

          "What do you mean?"

          "What I mean is anyone with a pair of functional eyes can see that you are better than him in every possible way," Regulus said matter-of-factly. "I am not trying to slag him off, but that is the truth. I'm one year younger than him, and I know this as well. But if he decides to be gutted every time someone points that out, there is nothing you can do about it."

          "But it’s partially my fault. I never meant for myself to become a standard used by others to compare you two against. I would never put pressure on him... or you... to be like me," Turais said dejectedly as his shoulders slumped.

          "I don't think he wants to be like you, though... or anyone else in the family, for that matter. If he did, he would've been in Slytherin, not Gryffindor."

          "Do you want to be like me then?"

          "Of course!" Regulus said immediately as if that was a nonsensical question. "You're a popular and clever. I want to be just like you when I finally get to Hogwarts!"

          "Don't put too much pressure on yourself, though," Turais said. "Success is not measured in only one way. I am lacking in many areas."

          Regulus arched his brow sceptically, "Such as?"

          " Huh? Many things, Reggie... Many things. I'm hot-headed, prone to risk-taking, inexperienced..." Turais listed until he paused as a lump formed in his throat.

          "You sound exactly like a Gryffindor," Regulus laughed.

          Turais took in a deep breath and placed an arm around Regulus to hold him tight. "Most importantly, I'm not good at being a son to Father... or an older brother to you and Sirius..."

          "What are you talking about?" Regulus said with a frown. "You're the best brother ever! And I'm sure father loves you the most."

          "Father loves all of us equally. And thank you for saying that I'm the best brother ever, Reggie. But no, I'm not," Turais said. "The most important thing to me is you - my family. I don't know if I have excelled as a son or a brother. Half the time, I don't even know if I'm making the right decisions."

          "That's ridiculous," Regulus scoffed. "Is that what you worry about all the time?"

          "Of course!" Turais said. "What else?"

          "I don't know... everything else? Maybe becoming the Quidditch captain, or earning an Order of Merlin, or graduating Hogwarts? Not necessarily in that order, of course."

          "Well, those things are nice," Turais hummed. "But without someone to celebrate it with... well, nothing matters, does it?"

          "I suppose so... But if you have nothing to celebrate, having someone doesn't matter either, does it?" Regulus rebutted quickly.

          "Are you saying that having me as your brother doesn't matter to you?" Turais gasped as he tickled his brother aggressively. Regulus squealed as he tried to evade Turais's grasp.

          "Sorry, Turais!" Regulus shouted in between laughs. "I'm sorry! You're... you're most important!"

          "That sounds much better," Turais huffed as he paused his attack. Regulus stuck out his tongue mischievously as the doorbell rang dull and deep.

          Sirius peeked down from the landing as they snapped their attention to the front door as Kreacher appeared to open it.

          As the door swung open, it revealed one of the busiest men in the Wizengamot at the moment - Harold Minchum.

          The kitchen door opened at the same time as Arcturus and Orion strolled out.

          "Mr Minchum," Arcturus greeted with a nod.

          "Oh, Lord Black," Minchum said in surprise. "I was not expecting your presence today."

          Arcturus glanced at Orion, who stepped forward and explained, "Ah, yes. Mr Minchum asked whether he could visit today. But I was expecting him at a later hour."

          "Yes, I finished my work at the Ministry sooner than anticipated. And thank you for extending your hospitality and allowing me a second visit," Minchum said brightly as he hung his coat on the rack, much to Kreacher's silent chagrin. The house-elf looked as if he had an internal monologue that every steps the man took, much like during his last visit months ago. Once they settled in the sitting room, Minchum continued, "I had to deliver my congratulations in person for the wonderful news. And here -" The man pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Turais, " - is my gift."

          Turais took the parchment curiously and read the content. It was a press release dated for tomorrow, and it was a rousing speech that would announce Arcturus's support of the PUPS bill as well as the likely prospects of the bill's imminent passage.

          Combined with the discussion with Arcturus, Turais presumed his grandfather also wanted to flex the newly-unopposed powers he had in the Wizengamot.

          "That's a very unique and substantial gift. Thank you, Mr Minchum. And you as well, grandfather," Turais said politely as he handed it to Orion. "Especially considering that you were involved with creating the occasion in the first place."

          "The outcome merely reflects the merits of the invention itself," Arcturus said with pride in his voice.

          "And to your point, I could not think of a gift that is more appropriate for the occasion," Minchum added. 

          "Indeed so," Orion said with a small smile as he handed the parchment back to Minchum, who folded it and slipped it back into his inner pocket.

          "Although, please do excuse me for my abhorrent lack of preparation for a more utilitarian gift."

          The deep, dull note of the doorbell rang again followed by a series of loud bangs on the door.

          "Oh, I hope I am not imposing..." Minchum said worriedly as he stood up immediately.

          "Please do stay," Orion said politely. "I am unaware we had another visitor at this hour -"

          "Turais!" a man shouted after a series of loud footsteps. Damocles appeared at the doorway in a heavily worn-out safari outfit with streaks of green and brown. His face was completely red underneath the thin layer of sweat and grim. Poor Kreacher looked as if he was suffering from a stroke with his tennis-ball eyes bugged out at the trail of dirt on the carpets. Damocles seized Turais's hand and pumped it up and down excitedly. He repeated the action with a stunned Orion, ruffled Arcturus, and bemused Minchum. "The Potion is approved!"

          "And so we have been made well aware," Arcturus said dryly as Turais nursed his sore wrist.

          "Apologies, Mr Black," Damocles said sheepishly. "I have just returned from an expedition in Africa hunting for rare magical herbs without any means of communication." 

          "Believe me, Damocles," Turais said. "My grandfather is quite excited even though he might not express it verbally."

          "We must celebrate," Damocles said.

          "If you would like to join us for supper, I am sure we can arrange something," Arcturus spoke to Kreacher, who bowed respectfully.

          "Of course, Masters," he said.

          "Splendid!" Damocles said. "Then I shall return to my residence and make myself look more presentable. And also to bring over my best vintage mead reserved for occasions such as today!"

          Orion smiled courteously even though Turais knew it was an act. Mead really was not Orion's choice of beverage.

          "And you, Mr Minchum?" Arcturus asked coolly, expressing neither a hint of encouragement or disgust. "Would you like to stay as well?"

          "I..." he hesitated, "Well..."

          "If you can spare the time, please do join us," Turais added.

          "In that case... I am much obliged."

          "Would you mind if I invite Professor Slughorn as well?" Damocles asked. "He was instrumental in catalyzing our success."

          "Of course," Arcturus said as he ran his hand down the back of Turais's head. "Anyone who has led to my eldest grandson's success is welcomed."

          "Mr Minchum," Turais said suddenly. "May I speak with you in private for just a moment?"

          "Of course," he said agreeably.

          "Please excuse us," Turais nodded at everyone politely before he led Minchum to the spare room next to the sitting room. Closing the door, Turais asked, "Mr Minchum, I am curious to hear your thoughts on the most recent scandal surrounding the DMLE and Auror Office."

          The man's expression turned grim as he said, "There are many scandals concerning the Auror Office right now, but I do presume you mean the one about the Dementor's Kiss administered on Tiberius." Turais nodded as Minchum sighed, "Mr Black, you must understand that Mr Wilkins and Head Auror Shafiq have been most uncooperative. They have failed to appear before the Wizengamot hearings. I am doing everything I can to push for a formal Wizengamot-led commission to investigate the issue, but it seems like no one has the appetite to uncover the truth!"

          "What do you mean, Mr Minchum?" Turais asked. "A person was Kissed without being properly investigated or tried before a court! That is absolutely absurd and utter disregard of a person's rights - rights that should be protected, even for the worst of criminals."

          "I full-heartedly agree, Mr Black," Minchum nodded. "But you see, Tiberius McLaggen is suspected of murdering two Lords and indirectly causing the death of a third. It is difficult to thread the needle of defending the rule of law without appearing as if one is trying to defend a seemingly indefensible criminal. Furthermore, all the Lords in the Wizengamot have personal relationships with at least one of the victims in the case. This makes them even less likely to do anything that would be seen to obstruct justice that has already been served."

          "This is ridiculous!"

          "That's not all, Mr Black. The Aurors have been scandal-ridden since the mysterious chain of Muggle incidents three years ago. They are eager to prove their worth, even if it meant they were blatantly overreaching their powers. However, with the Wizengamot unlikely to punish them, and..."

          "And what?" Turais asked sharply.

          "And... you must have noticed that the Ministry has been strangely silent on the matter," Minchum explained. "I believe it is because the Minister for Magic, Eugenia Jenkins, is a daughter of the Auror Office. She was a Deputy Head Auror herself before she was elected. She is... beholdened by her personal ties with an organization that she was raised in and her time as an Auror would come under renewed scrutiny if this situation ferments any more. She has already been under immense pressure to step down. To admit the failings of the Auror Office under her watch will effectively end her political fortunes. It is something she would not do."

          "So there is nothing to be done then?" Turais said in distress. "The blatant injustice we watched unfold before our eyes would just recede from the spotlight without a fight?"

          "Oh, there will be a fight. I can assure you of that," Minchum said with determination. "As Chief Warlock, I can force an extremely uncomfortable vote in the Wizengamot where everyone's positions on the matter will be laid bare. But, I have no power when it comes to the Minister's Office."

          "There is always something to be done," Turais said as his mind went into overdrive. "There must be..."

          “I’m not positive that there is any recourse,” Minchum said with a sigh. “The Auror Office answers to the Minister, not the Wizengamot. If the Minister is unwilling to act, the only possible countering force would have to come from within the Auror Office itself.”

          Turais’s eyes widened as he realized what the solution to the question was.

          Charlus.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-03-05

Chapter 52: Interlude - Third Year In Review (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

- ravenclawblues 2021-03-12

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

INTERLUDE - THIRD YEAR IN REVIEW


 

 

         "Ummm..." Kaiden groaned in pleasure as he took another bite of the savoury pastry while they walked down the sparsely-travelled streets of Belford towards the sole Wizarding establishment in town - Holly and Feather. "Good call, Turais! I have almost forgotten how good these sausage rolls are."

         "I had a sudden craving for them," Turais said with a shrug. He originally wanted to see whether he could have an inconspicuous meeting with Charlus, but Kaiden told him that his father left an hour ago and said he would return soon. Intending to speak with the Auror regardless, Turais planned a last-minute trip to the neighbouring town once again.

         "... heard of the strange incident around this time last year?" Turais heard as a couple of ladies walked towards them. "The Swan family was found unconscious and stark naked at St. Mary's Church. But strangely, Ms Stevens swore she saw them dining at her restaurant the entire time."

         "How is that possible?" the other woman gasped.

         Turais was deep in thought as they arrived at the restaurant where Ms Stevens, the owner, was wiping down a table. He also recalled the strange observation, which he noticed at this exact location a year ago, except that the patio table was now empty.

         She looked up and saw the duo approach her establishment. With a warm, motherly smile, she greeted, "Kaiden, you're up early."

         "Yeah, Ms Stevens," he gestured at the paper bag of baked goods in Turais's arms. "We were just getting several items from the bakery down the street."

         "Oh yes, their pastries are wickedly delicious," she laughed. Then, her demeanour turned less cheery as she asked, "I've heard about the nasty business at Hogsmeade. How are you faring?"

         Once again, Turais noticed Kaiden's subtle movement as he hid his right arm behind his back.

         "I'm much better," Kaiden said with a notably terse cadence in his voice. "I've heard from my mum that you made daily visits to keep her company during... that time. I am immensely grateful, Ms Stevens. Thank you."

         "Oh, it's nothing worth mentioning, Kaiden."

         "No, but it means a great deal to me," Kaiden insisted. "I... I have not been in the best state of mind recently."

         "That's understandable," she said sympathetically. Then, she cleared her throat and said authoritatively, "But enough with the dreary talk. I heard from your mother that you are recently committed to another soul, but I want the information first-hand. Is it Michael?"

         Kaiden's face flushed red, and he stared down at the pavement.

         "Aw, silly boy, we all recognized the two of you were soulmates. I daresay we all hoped you two would end up together," she chuckled. "You have been inseparable since you were toddlers. You, in particular, always followed Michael around without ever letting him out of your sight."

         "Ms Stevens," Kaiden groaned as his face turned into an even darker shade of crimson. "Stop it."

         "Alright, alright. I will not embarrass you further." Casting a glance into the store at the green-lit porcelain lamp, she said, "The Floo's available if you lads want to use it. And tell your father I said hi. I haven't seen him in quite some time."

         "He's been busy," Kaiden grimaced. "But I will give him an earful for not visiting you."

         "What a delightful boy you are," Ms Stevens said fondly as she patted Kaiden's cheek. "Now, hurry along."

         They entered the restaurant and stood in front of the Floo. Kaiden grasped at a fistful of powder and was about to step into the fireplace when Turais stilled his forearm. Looking down at him curiously, Turais explained, "Let's make a slight detour before we head back."

         "But to where?" Kaiden frowned.

         "Berwick."

 

***

 

         "Police?" Kaiden looked across the street at the sandstone building that dated back to the late 19th century in a town that was several miles north of Belford. He turned to his companion in confusion, "Why are we at a Muggle Auror Office?"

         "I will be quick. Can you hold this for me?" Turais asked while shoving the paper bag into Kaiden's arms.

         "Does it matter if I say no?" Kaiden asked rhetorically as he tried to cradle the bag in his left arm.

         "No," Turais grinned and crossed the empty street. Once he entered the building, he noticed the closed double-doors to his left that led to the magistrate's court. To his right was his destination, which was the Berwick police station. Summoning his Cloak, Turais swung the fabric over him and turned right. There, he noticed that the inspector was out of his office, and two clerks were working on various paperwork on their respective desks. Silently, he slipped around the front desk into the work area. However, there were no visible bookshelves lined with binders or books in sight. Noting this, he carefully climbed the ladder to the second floor, where he was met with rows upon rows of police reports.

         Fortunately, the shelves were clearly labelled according to the location and date. Turais quickly located and pulled out the blinder designated for the period around Easter last year.

         "April 14th..." Turais muttered as he flipped through numerous pages and scanned the various reports. "April 15th..." Then, his eyes landed on a rather odd police report.

         "Inspector Brown... 11:23 a.m. on April 15th, 1971... dispatched to St, Mary's Church... Reverend Abraham Smith reported four naked persons lying unconscious near the wall along Church Street... no visible injuries... no signs of a struggle... sent to the local medical practice at 11:43 a.m. -" Turais flipped the page and continued to scan, "- no witnesses to the case... victims had no recollection of events... treated as cases of theft and common assault..."

         He looked at the pictures of the four victims, and his eyes widened.

         They were the same faces he remembered from that day.

         Turais exited the building with a frantic heart to a bored-looking Kaiden leaning against the wall. At the sight of Turais, he perked up and said, "What took you so long?"

         "Just found something interesting," Turais said as he took the bag from Kaiden.

         "So, ready to head home now?"

         "No."

 

***

 

         "Where exactly are we?" Kaiden asked curiously after several consecutive jumps through the public Floo. With their heads spinning slightly from the whirlwind journey, they emerged onto a bustling sideway filled with pedestrians walking in purposeful strides. In front of them, several cars honked angrily at a jaywalker that was crossing the street illegally. And casting their gaze a bit further, there was a tram entering its station with passengers waiting to board on the platform. They walked at a brisk pace as Kaiden continued to look at everything with child-like awe.

         "Croydon."

         "Croydon?! As in south of London - that Croydon?!" Kaiden exclaimed incredulously while he accidentally bumped into another man, who glared back angrily. "I'm terribly sorry, sir -" Kaiden said immediately before he scuttled away. He hissed, "Turais, we are... hundreds of miles away from home! Why are we here?"

         "I need to find something," Turais said.

         "Do you even know where you are going?" he asked.

         "Yes," Turais said. He would have Apparated there directly if he could, but since they were both underage and were still tracked by the Trace, he had to make do with the Floo network.

         "And can you enlighten me with that piece of information?"

         Turais sighed as they rounded the corner, "Land Registry Office."

         "Land Registr- wait, why exactly do we need to - umph -" Kaiden groaned as he walked into another person, "- I'm so sorry."

         "Kaiden?" 

         Turais spun around and saw Charlus looking down in surprise at his son.

         "Dad?"

         "What are you doing out here?"

         Charlus followed his son's glance and looked straight at Turais.

 

***

 

         "Why were you heading to the Land Registry Office?" Charlus asked as he sat down in his study back in the Potter House.

         "Because I wanted to see if Head Auror Shafiq was bribed," Turais replied.

         "Bribed by who? And with what?" Charlus asked, leaning forward with keen interest.

         "I wouldn't know, would I?" Turais returned blandly. "Why were you there, Charlus?"

         "Auror business," he replied immediately.

         "Now, if you were investigating the Head Auror. That would not qualify as 'official' Auror business, would it?"

         Turais was bluffing. There were many reasons for Charlus to be there, but he was hoping that Charlus had the same suspicions that he did. Turais went to the Office to retrieve information on Head Auror Shafiq's possible acquisition of a Belford property last year. It was a long shot, considering that there are far better choices to offer illegal financial incentives, but he had to start somewhere. And without the official capacity as an Auror, there was no way he could access other more sensitive information.

         Charlus stared at Turais for a long, hard moment.

         "You believe the Head Auror is compromised?" Charlus asked carefully.

         "Yes, and I think you believe that too," Turais replied calmly.

         Charlus felt silent as he looked deep in thought. Finally, he answered, "Yes, I was there to investigate Desmond's property ownership. But there is nothing suspicious on the Ministry side or the Muggle side."

         "I take it that there were no suspicious activities in regards to his other finances neither," Turais commented. "Since you are resorting to investigating property ownership."

         "Indeed so," Charlus said.

         "In this case, it is unlikely that the Head Auror was bribed," Turais said. "That leaves several other options. One, he is coerced, either threatened or Imperius-ed. Two, the current Head Auror is an impostor. Polyjuiced, perhaps. Three, he is a sympathizer and possible member of the Knights.

         "The second option is unlikely, given that an Auror is required to undergo a medical examination, including bloodwork, after each assignment. He is Head Auror, however, so he rarely participated in raids or assignments. But he is still required to submit samples for monthly testing. If he is an impostor, traces of Polyjuice would have been detected, and he would have been discovered by now. The third option is improbable as well, considering his background and the death of his own parents at the hands of Grindelwald," Turais continued. "That leaves us with only coercion. And I am leaning towards Imperius."

         "Why?"

         "Much more effective, total control, and notoriously hard to detect," Turais said matter-of-factly. "And I have a bold, but unsubstantiated, theory of it."

         "Which is?"

         Turais pulled a piece of parchment towards him and scribbled down the words.

April 15th, 1971. Holly and Feather. Polyjuiced assailants.

         "Polyjuiced," Charlus repeated as he read the note.

         "Oldest trick in the books," Turais confirmed. "The assailants likely Polyjuiced themselves as Muggles and Imperius-ed Head Auror Shafiq some time before or after the meal. I have a suspicion that you would have been in danger as well if Kaiden, Michael and I did not arrive when we did."

         "What evidence do you have?"

         "I don't have any. But to ensure the Imperius-ed person is not suspected, secrecy is of the utmost importance. Given the high-profile of their target, they would not want to bring unnecessary attention to cast any doubt that the target could be compromised. Therefore, the fact that those people risked raising the attention of Muggle authorities to disguise themselves suggests that day was critical in the series of events."

         Charlus gave Turais another hard look before he pulled a drawer and placed a file in front of Turais. "Read it."

         Opening the file, Turais saw several pieces of parchment that outlined Charlus's observations and collected evidence. Most of the leads came back negative, including searches into Desmond Shafiq's Gringotts's vaults. Then, he saw the copy of a letter along with four sketches addressed to a person named Jemima Atticus. Beneath that letter was a copy of the police report that Turais saw this morning.

         "From your reaction, I think you are familiar with some of the evidence I have collected," Charlus noted thoughtfully.

         "I... yes..."

         "And you have reached the same conclusion that I have."

         "I... I suppose so."

         "Then, please note that I intend to pursue this case further," Charlus said as he took the file and stored it away safely. "Let me handle the rest from here. Refrain yourself from conducting investigations when you have no authority to do so, such as accessing Muggle police records rooms."

         "I understand..." Turais nodded. He stood up and turned to leave. However, Charlus's voice rang out behind him.

         "Turais," he said.

         He turned back to the Auror and found the man looking at him strangely.

         "Yes?"

         The man did not speak and merely continued to assess him. The penetrative gaze made him want to hide and squirm.

         "I've been wondering for a while now..." Charlus said, furrowing his brows as if he was close to solving a mystery only to be met with one critical clue that nullified his entire hypothesis. "There... is something different about you... something... peculiar about your wealth of knowledge on subjects that a child of your age has no business of knowing. Who are you?"

         "I'm not sure I understand the question," Turais said in return with a surprisingly calm voice.

         The man stood up and walked around his table. His eyes were on Turais and analyzing him the entire time. 

         "Who are you?" Charlus repeated the question.

         "I'm Turais Black," Turais said without hesitation. "Son of Orion Black. Older brother to Sirius and Regulus -"

         "That is not what I mean," Charlus said as he squinted his eyes. Meanwhile, Turais gulped at the intensity of Charlus's spoken words.

         "I am just... a boy interested in doing the right thing for our society," Turais said. "It is but fair that the disappointing end to my poisoning case made me believe that I must take matters into my own hands, especially when the Aurors and the Wizengamot seemed more interested in posturing than doing actual work."

         "Is that so?" Charlus pressed on with suspicion clear in his voice.

         But suddenly, the study room door swung open as Kaiden shouted, "Dad? Mum's asking - uhmm... am I interrupting something?"

         Charlus's glower tapered off as he smiled at his son warmly, "Of course not, Kaiden. What did your mum say?"

         "Oh..." Kaiden scratched his neck as he looked between the duo. "She is asking whether the two of you will join for tea."

         Seizing the opportunity, Turais said quickly, "I'm afraid I have another appointment later today. Please send Dorea my apologies."

         "But Michael's coming by soon. Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

         "Unfortunately, I have to leave."

         "I will show Turais to the Floo," Charlus said as he placed a firm grip around Turais's shoulders. "Why don't you help your mum out?"

         "Oh, she has a handle on things," Kaiden said dismissively. "If I helped, she'd only fuss about how I am about to shatter her favourite plates."

         With Kaiden present, Turais managed to avoid an interrogation that Charlus likely had in mind. He travelled through the Floo back to 12 Grimmauld Place, but not without a final look at Charlus's suspicious glare as the green flames filled his vision.

 

***

 

         The rest of the holidays passed with a steady stream of congratulatory mail and visitors from near and afar. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, that the approval of the Wolfsbane Potion was the dominant topic of conversation in the wider Wizarding community, especially given the cancellation of The Malfoy Ball this year due to Abraxas Malfoy's passing.

         There was a strange mix of emotions at the news of his funeral. Turais was certain that there were many shady businesses that the man was involved in worthy of imprisonment. However, he firmly believed that the late Lord Malfoy was innocent in the Ministry murders. The Lord was likely framed by another as a means to sweep him away from power. The way he and Lucius acted, the subsequent downfall and detention of the Lord...

         It was not a position that the self-preserving Malfoys would have placed themselves in willingly, not even for the prospect of decimating their enemies.

         Lucius never involved himself in others' illegal schemes despite the long-standing rivalry against his archrival in Hogwarts. No reward outweighed their possible implication in the events, especially not under Abraxas's watch.

         Turais worried that the death of Abraxas would only serve to push Lucius closer towards Voldemort. Still, he could not see a way to prevent that given Lucius's misunderstanding and deep-rooted hatred against him.

         It was the first weekend back, and Turais was meeting up with Pierricoeur for their study session. However, it seemed like the Ravenclaw was running late as he burst into the room fifteen minutes after they were supposed to meet with an intricate golden instrument attached to a thin chain that was hung around his neck.

         "You really should be more careful with that," Turais said airily as he glanced at the Time-Turner. 

         Pierricoeur looked down, and he immediately scrambled to tug the item underneath his shirt in panic.

         "It amazes me that you are still late even when you use that thing," Turais said as the jittery Ravenclaw sat down beside him. "Couldn't be bothered to turn it back one more time?"

         Pierricoeur looked pained to admit the truth as he countered half-heartedly, "Yeah, this is not worth an extra forty-five-minute wait."

         "You wound me," Turais said blithely. "Now, I need help with the problem on page six-hundred -"

         "How did you know about the... the thing?" Pierricoeur interrupted.

         Turais sighed as he turned to face the boy directly.

         "Your mood swings," Turais explained, "Are the best markers there are." At his confused expression, Turais continued, "On Mondays, you have Care of Magical Creatures with my friend, Alex, followed by Ancient Runes. Then you use your handy gadget to travel back two hours and attend Arithmancy. On certain days, you also break the rules and use the thing for non-scholastic purposes. Need I continue?"

         "When... when did you find out?" He asked weakly.

         "Later that I would like to admit to," Turais said, wincing slightly at how he missed the painfully obvious signs until December. "But for at least several months now."

         "Darn..." Pierricoeur said as he opened his Arithmancy textbook. "And I thought I was cautious with it."

         "Gotten sloppy then," Turais remarked. "So, page six-hundred -"

         Pierricoeur closed the book with a slam again. He pressed urgently, "How do you do it?"

         "Do what?"

         "This!" He gasped exasperatedly as he gesticulated wildly. "You're taking extra courses without a Time-Turner. How are you managing all this?!"

         "I am struggling with Arithmancy, so I wouldn't call my workload manageable. I am dropping Divination next year, so... there you go," Turais said. "Also, I did request for a Time-Turner. However, the Headmaster rejected my application."

         "Why?" the Ravenclaw frowned.

         "The Headmaster thinks I am, somehow, a scary Slytherin up to no good," Turais shrugged. "I'm not the first person he has been biased against. Nor the last."

         "That's... that's rough... He shouldn't have done that..." Pierricoeur said with an awkward tilt of the head. "You... you deserve better."

         Turais smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Now, we really need to get on with the problem or else we will be here all night, even with ‘the thing,' as you so aptly put."

         After two grueling hours under Pierricoeur's guidance, Turais finally managed the trick to solving the higher-level Arithmancy equations. By the end of it, they were both drained of energy.

         "We haven't gotten to your Ancient Runes questions," Turais said as they headed back to the main section of the castle.

         "It's not that pressing," Pierricoeur shrugged. "The Arithmancy assignment is due tomorrow."

         "Thank you," Turais said sincerely as the boy scratched his head in embarrassment. They reached the intersection where Turais headed off down into the dungeons while Pierricoeur headed up to the Ravenclaw tower. Instead of the usual goodbye, Pierricoeur lingered around.

         "I... I was an absolute prick to you for the past three years, wasn't I?" Pierricoeur whispered.

         "Yeah, you were."

         He winced. "I don't think I've properly apologized for it."

         "No, you did," Turais said with a confused expression. "Remember? Back when we first started this little joint endeavour."

         "Yeah... I don't think I really meant what I said back then," he admitted. "I was more worried about the prospect of failing Ancient Runes."

         "Well... I'm not sure how I should react to this piece of information -"

         "No, no," Pierricoeur said hastily. He looked at Turais with determination and said, "What I meant is I do - now - and, sincerely, want to apologize for my behaviour. I'm sorry."

         "That means a lot to me, thank you," Turais said. "And, of course, I will accept it."

         Pierricoeur gave Turais a weak grimace-like grin, which Turais returned with a content smile.

         "Now, let's not dawdle here. It's almost curfew, and do you think the school will be believe that we were studying at an empty classroom together without one murdering the other?" Turais joked.

         “Probably not,” the corners of the Ravenclaw’s mouth tipped upward.

         “But I don’t think the other possibilities are any more convincing...” Turais said with a chuckle.

         Pierricoeur made a disgusted face. "You really have an odd sense of humour and a horrifying way with words."

         Turais laughed and waved goodbye at Pierricoeur, perhaps for the first time, as a friend.

          April quickly gave way to a blessedly eventless May, which led to the final stretch of the school year as exams and the Quidditch final crept up at them stealthily. 

          In Turias’s absence, the Slytherin team was unable to secure a final match appearance and defend their title. The Gryffindors managed a resounding victory over the Ravenclaws. Kaiden, as the Gryffindor team captain, received the silver Quidditch Cup from Dumbledore amidst thunderous applause. However, Turais definitely noticed the pained grimace on his face when he realized he could barely lift up the magically-lightened trophy with both hands. He smiled dutifully in front of the entire school before quickly passing the Cup to MacGregor and stepping back from the spotlight.

          And beside Turais, Michael's proud smile turned into a worried frown.

          "We will end training for today," Michael said as the current Slytherin team descended onto the pitch for the final time this year. "Don't leave yet. I am some announcements to make before I dismiss you for the rest of the school year!"

          "Your interceptions are getting much better, Harper," Turais said to the fifth-year Chaser, Richard Harper, as he landed.

          "Thanks, Black," Harper grinned.

          "However, I have noticed that once you gain possession of the Quaffle, you are a bit slow to pass it off to Riley or Pyrites," Turais explained. "You have to be quick because the other team's Beater will snipe you almost immediately."

          "Yeah... I sometimes forget where their positions are," Harper scratched his head sheepishly.

          "That just means you are too focused on intercepting the Quaffle and not paying enough attention to the field," Turais analyzed. "Make sure you know where your fellow Chasers are at all times."

          "I will," Harper nodded readily as Turais gave an approving clap on his back.

          "Hey, Turais," Michael called out. "Can you stay behind for a moment?"

          "Yes, cap," Turais responded. Turning back to the Chaser, he said, "Let's talk more after."

          "Of course."

          Turais ran back to the Slytherin captain, who was gathering the equipment.

          "You want to speak with me?"

          "Yes, I have something to discuss with you," Michael said. Heaving up a basket of field markers, he continued, "I want you to take over as captain."

          Turais was surprised by request. New captains were generally selected when the former one graduated from school. Certain times when the captain was incapacitated due to an injury, someone else took over temporarily as Deputy. But it was rare for a current Captain to formally transfer the role to another team member while they were in school.

          "Is there... any reason why you are doing this?" Turais asked with concern.

          "I'll be honest with you, Turais," Michael said. "I... I want to spend more time with Kaiden... especially since he can't play anymore and will no longer be captain next year."

          "But surely Kaiden understands that you have nothing to do with his inability to play," Turais countered. "If the only reason that you are asking me is because of your guilt of being the one responsible for his injury, I will refuse your request."

          "It's... it's part of the reason," Michael admitted. "But not all of it. You know how much I love Quidditch, Turais. You also know I take pride in being the captain of this team. But I... I've come to realize that Kaiden is more important to me than anything else... even Quidditch. And I just want to spend more time with him."

          Eyeing the younger boy, he pushed his voice down into a whisper. "I'm sure you've noticed that he's not been quite himself lately. I mean, he would be his normal self most of the time, but then he would become acutely aware of his injuries. I know he is still shaken by what happened to him in Hogsmeade, and I... I would like to be more present for him... and being captain does not help me achieve this goal."

          Turais pressed his lips together tightly as he considered.

          "Are you sure you want me to take over?" Turais asked.

          "Yes. You have good insights into different strategies and plays. You have good rapport with everyone on the team. You're a natural leader, Turais, if you haven't noticed that about yourself," Michael said. "And the fact that you did not raise this question first tells me that you are confident in your own ability to lead the team."

          Turais found himself unable to argue against those points. Finally, he nodded in agreement.

          "I will only do it on two conditions," Turais said. "Promise me you will stay on as Beater, Michael. I don't think I will ever find a better Beater pair to replace you and Cornfoot. At least let me have you for one more year."

          "I would've done it even if you didn't ask," Michael laughed. "What's the other condition?"

          "Please try to convince Kaiden to visit a Mind-Healer," Turais said. "I can tell he is still haunted by what happened to him, and I believe something is happening to him on a psychological level that requires attention."

          "But Kaiden's not mad!" Michael immediately said defensively.

          "That's not what I mean, Michael," he replied patiently. Clearly, Mind-Healing was not as accepted as it was two decades later. "Hogsmeade was a traumatic experience for us all, especially for Kaiden, considering he lost most functions in one of his arms. It would be a devastating blow if it happened to any of us. I am merely suggesting you find someone who can... help him process his negative thoughts and emotions. Psychological wounds can run far deeper than the physical ones, and they are also the ones that are most difficult to detect and remedy."

          "I... I see," Michael nodded, still with a hint of skepticism.

          "There's no harm in trying, is there?"

          "I suppose not..." Michael muttered. "I will look into it."

          "That's all I ask."

 

***

 

          "Sure thing, cap," Cornfoot said as he raised his hand in agreement. "It's NEWTs next year, so I don't have the time for extra captain duties anyway."

          Pyrites raised his hand as well. "NEWTs year for me as well. Also, I'm only good at throwing a ball through the hoops."

          They were more senior than Turais - in terms of time spent as a player on the House team - and Michael's apparent successors. Therefore, their support for Turais's bid for the captain was the most important.

          "How about the rest of you? Any objections?" Michael asked. Riley and Harper, the Chasers shook their heads. So did the Keeper, Gibbon. "Well, in that case, I will name Black as the new captain of the Slytherin House team. It will become official when I notify Professor Slughorn and Mister Williams of the change later today."

          Turais felt several heavy pats on his back as he stood up and walked next to Wilkins.

          "But you are staying on the team, aren't you?" Harper asked Michael.

          "Yes, your new captain coaxed a promise out of me before he agreed to take the reins."

          "Well, seems like he is intelligent enough to be our captain," Cornfoot said to a wave of chuckles. "Knows what he has here is the best he's ever going to have."

          "Everything is settled, then," Michael said. Turning to Turais and offering his hand, he said, "Congratulations, captain ."

          Turais gave Michael a disapproving glare before quirking a grin and shaking the proffered hand vigorously.

          "We are under your leadership now," Michael said as he stepped backward to join the rest of the team, who was eyeing him expectantly.

          "Well, what are you waiting for?" Turais shouted. "You're dismissed!"

          "Yes, cap!" Everyone shouted in unison before they scrambled out of the dressing room in a flash.

          Turais chuckled at the emptied room and shook his head in resignation.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-03-12

Chapter 53: The Sudden Storm (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Don't get used to the weekly update as I always treat interludes as "special updates" outside of my normal 2-3 weeks/chapter update schedule.

I hope you enjoy the new update!

- ravenclawblues 2021-03-19

***

 

⚠️ Warning: Mentions of child abuse. Please be advised.

 

***

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

THE SUDDEN STORM


 

July 1, 1972 (Saturday)

 

FORGET-ME-NOT

by Sclandora Gosp

Latest Invention Takes Britain by Storm

 

Dear readers, have you been wondering what those large, marbled-shaped glass balls that lined the shelves in Zonko's and every magical shop all across the country this summer are? Well, worry not, for you are not alone in making this observation. Allow me to introduce you to the latest, most fabulous, and (possibly) greatest gift for all your forgetful friends.

"The smoke contained inside the Remembrall will turn red in the hands of those who have forgotten something," the spokeswizard said loftily as he held the scarlet-red object high in the air for all to see. Chuckling nervously with visible beads of sweat trailing down the side of his cheek, he muttered, "So now, let's see what I forgot..."

As it turned out, the man had forgotten the souvenirs for the press. However, I am glad to report that I have since received a special edition Remembrall with a personal apology note.

On a more controversial note, the company's claim that the item will help amnesiac patients recover their memories had been under heavy skepticism by the Healers...

 

***

 

         "Turais, there is a letter for you!" Regulus shouted from the kitchen. Turais entered and heard the pouring rain through the wide-open window. Looking out, it was an opaque curtain of water as a clasp of thunder boomed.

         "You want a reply?" Turais asked the drenched owl, which gave a weak, depressed hoot as it eyed the weather outside with apprehension. He took some owl snacks from the nearby tray and scattered them in front of the owl. "Here, take a bite while I write the response."

         The youngest Black brother handed the letter to Turais, who then asked curiously, "You're up early today, Reggie."

         "My Hogwarts letter!" Regulus cried out the obvious.

         "Oh right! This is your big day!" Turais’s lips morphed into a wide grin. Sniffing the air, he detected the distinct, aromatic scent of roasted coffee, which was a rarity in the household. "No wonder I smell coffee. Well, the owls are running late today... aren't they?"

         "Yeah..." Regulus pouted glumly as he looked out into the terrible weather. A bolt of lightning streaked across the stormy skies, illuminating their faces with a sudden, harsh flash. "I hope my owl is not struck by lightning."

         "It won't be," Turais laughed. He reached for the copper pot, an ibrik, when it suddenly levitated over his head.

         "This is for me, not you," Orion's gruff voice sounded tiredly behind him. "You're not even fourteen yet. Coffee stunts growth."

         "That's good. It means we can save from spending on robes every year," Turais argued half-heartedly.

         "How could you even suggest not having new robes?" Orion said, sounding mightily affronted by the mere thought. "You clearly will outgrow your current ones halfway through the year, not to mention that I discovered a bit of discolouration on every single one of them."

         "There are?" Turais said in surprise. "I suppose it is not noticeable."

         "They're really obvious," Regulus added unhelpfully. He pointed at the robe Turais was wearing currently and said, "I see one patch on your right sleeve."

         Turais took a look and saw nothing. Well... there was a patch that looked ever so slightly lighter than the rest, but the difference was so miniscule that it could have passed for a problem with the lighting. He did not understand why Orion and Regulus could even notice these things. 

         Orion retreated back to the sitting room with the ibrik floating after him. Turais shook his head in exasperation before turning his attention back to the envelope at hand. Opening it, he gasped in surprise. 

         "I am chosen for the summer exchange scholarship program to Castelobruxo," Turais explained while he continued to read the letter.

         "Congratulations!" Regulus shouted immediately. "Wait, what is that again?"

         "It's a where, not a what. Castelobruxo is the Wizarding Academy in Brazil."

         "Oh, so you will not be at home for the rest of summer then?" Regulus asked, looking slightly crestfallen.

         Secretly, Turais thought it didn't seem right to leave Britain, at least not at this moment with so much happening. But whatever he wanted to say was drowned out by Regulus's scream of delight as a parliament of owls fluttered through the window and perched in a line along the edge of the kitchen table. They started to shake their wings to dry themselves. Water droplets splattered on every surface. Turais heard an unearthly squeal below him as Kreacher watched the disaster unfold.

         "MY HOGWARTS LETTER HAS ARRIVED!" Regulus shouted ecstatically as he untied all the letters messily. Opening the one addressed to him, he screamed as his eyes flew across the message, "FATHER! I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS!"

         "Bloody birds," Kreacher muttered while pulling on his bat-like ears to cover his bulging eyeballs. "Making Kreacher do extra cleaning..."

         " Scourgify ," Turais said as he waved his hand, and the dripping puddle vanished. Then, he pointed at the owls and muttered, " Ferven Ventus ."

         The Hot-Air Charm immediately sent a gust of dry, warm air that reminded him of a bright, summer day throughout the kitchen and into the stormy weather where it quickly dissipated.

         " Hoot! Hoot! " The five dry owls rotated their heads and expressed their gratitude at the helpful boy with several noisy flaps of their wings.

         "You can stay here until you want to leave," Turais told the owls to a chorus of grateful hoots once more. Then, he looked down and smiled at Kreacher, "See, no extra cleaning now."

         "Master Turais is always so kind to Kreacher," the house-elf bowed deeply with his pointy nose threatening to touch the floorboards just as Sirius tumbled into the kitchen as well.

         "What did I say, Kreacher?" Turais asked warningly.

         "Ah yes, kind Master told Kreacher to never bow deeply to Master," Kreacher said as he stood back up. "But Kreacher cannot help but express his gratitude."

         Sirius snorted as he snapped his fingers at Kreacher to get his attention. He was successful, but Kreacher's warm expression transitioned into an icy stare as he turned to the younger brother. However, Sirius didn't seem to care as he merely demanded, "Where's my orange juice?" before walking towards Regulus. Swinging an arm around the youngest brother, Sirius shook the boy's shoulders and said, "Congratulations, Reggie!"

         "Thanks, Sirius!" Regulus shouted as he reciprocated with a tight hug. "I'm finally going to Hogwarts! I can't wait to get a room with a view of the Black Lake. It sounds -"

         "Absolutely horrible," Sirius interjected with a disgusted expression.

         "You are quite the Gryffindor now, aren't you?" Regulus commented flatly.

         Sirius gave an over-the-top bow as Regulus watched with an unimpressed pursing of lips. Then,  Sirius inspected the first letter on the stack and shook it by his ear. A tiny rustle could be heard from inside, "Hey, what's that in your letter, Turais?"

         "Woah!" Sirius exclaimed when he tore the letter roughly and poured out a shiny object onto his palm. It was a tiny silver badge with a capital "C" in the Slytherin colours at the centre. Above and below were the words "Slytherin captain" spelt out. Sirius gasped, "You're the new Slytherin Quidditch captain?!"

         "What?! Let me take a look, Sirius!" Regulus shouted as he wrestled for the pin with his brother. "Come on... give it to me. You had a look already."

         "Here you go, catch!" Sirius laughed as he tossed the pin up into the air and across the room. Regulus ran around the table and caught it with one hand without hesitation.

         "Woah..." Sirius breathed out in awe. However, his younger brother looked furious as he stomped back.

         "Sirius!" Regulus huffed. "This is Turais's pin. You can't just throw other people's things around like -"

         "You're missing the point, Reggie," Sirius said excitedly as he snatched the pin from Regulus's hand and said, "Catch!" before he threw it across the room again.

         "SIRIUS!" Regulus roared before he leaned over the table, arms and body splaying across the wooden surface, as the pin fell onto his outstretched hand perfectly.

         " Urgh... You are so annoying!" Regulus panted out, red in the face, as he clawed at Sirius's dangling hair. However, Sirius only giggled in amazement as he swatted the attacks away.

         "You're a natural Seeker, Reggie!" Sirius exclaimed once Regulus stopped in defeat and sat down on the chair in an angry huff. "A natural, I tell you! I don't understand why you keep signing up for Chaser Quidditch camps when you're totally pants at Chasing!"

         "Well... Well -" Regulus’s eyes darted between his brothers frantically. "- Well, maybe because I don't want to be a Seeker!" He shouted defensively. He handed the pin to Turais, took his Hogwarts admission letter, and gave Sirius a final glare before stomping out.

         "But..." Sirius called out, looking slightly crestfallen and confused, "... but you... are..." He turned to Turais and said, "You saw Reggie, right? He has talent! I'm not wrong on this one, for sure! I'm... I'm..."

         "... a bratty, rude child ruining the family..." a deep voice rattled as Sirius looked down beside him.

         "What did you say?" Sirius barked.

         "Nothing worthy of your concern, Master Sirius. Your orange juice," Kreacher croaked reproachfully as he slammed the cup onto the table next to Sirius.

         "What took you so long?!" Sirius grunted out as he took a sip without taking notice of the strong antagonism radiating from the elderly house-elf.

         "If Master Sirius wishes for it to be quicker, Master can retrieve the juice himself instead of pestering poor old Kreacher," the house-elf said bitingly with a contrasting deep bow of respect. Then, he started walking away while shaking his head and muttering to himself under his breath. "Kreacher has much better things to do, such as serving other nice Masters..."

         Sirius scowled at the departing figure before reaching for another letter.

         "Oh... look... Alex has two letters..."

         Sirius and Kreacher never enjoyed a warm relationship, and it seemed that neither of them was interested in improving it. Turais wondered if it was one of the things that was never meant to be changed.

         "It's a letter from the summer school exchange scholarship, it says," Sirius said as Turais snapped back to reality from his recollections. Eyeing the opened envelope, Turais snatched the letter from Sirius's prying eyes and thundered, "Where are your manners, Sirius?! You cannot read other people's letters! That's common sense!"

         "But Alex doesn't mind," Sirius argued.

         "That's not what father or anyone would have taught you, Sirius."

         Sirius looked like he wanted to challenge Turais’s words, but then he huffed out an apology, "I'm sorry."

         "Alex woke up from your ruckus this morning already. You should go up to his room and explain the situation yourself," Turais said firmly as he handed the letter and opened the envelope to the boy. However, as he did that, he noticed that the letter read:

... keen competition, I regretfully announce that your application is unsuccessful. However, we have shortlisted you as a potential replacement candidate should the awardee reject the offer.

Position in shortlist: 1

I want to thank you for your time and wish you well in your future endeavours...

         His hand stilled as he considered what he had just read. Alex would have been selected outright for the trip if Turais never existed.

         "I thought you just said we weren't supposed to read other people's mail," Sirius said teasingly as he motioned his hand to take the letter. Turais cleared his throat and handed the letter over to the smirking boy.

         "Hurry along," Turais said, trying to regain his composure after the shocking news he just received.

         "Yes, sir!" Sirius gave a sloppy, fake salute before he marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs noisily. Once the boy was out of sight, Turais took out his letter and muttered, " Incendio ."

         The letter burst into flames as the owls hooted in alarm.

         "Sorry," Turais whispered as he watched parchment curl and darken into ashes. "You're going to have to keep this a secret for me."

         The owls tilted heads sideways and blinked at him before sounding a smattering of hoots as if they were reciprocating his hospitality with secrecy.

         "Thank you," he petted the closest owl, which closed its eyes and gave a contented hoot as it nipped at his knuckle gently.

         Now, Turais had a letter to write back to the exchange program coordinator.

 

***

 

         Since the weather did not improve by mid-day, Orion finally announced that their trip to Diagon Alley must be postponed until tomorrow, much to Regulus's disappointment. As a result, Turais took the opportunity to Floo to Potter House with a standing invitation from Kaiden as he was having his first portrait session.

         "Where's Kaiden?" Turais asked as he entered the sitting room where Michael and Gwen were lounging around idly. Unlike London, the weather outside was balmy with a hint of sunlight.

         "He's taking all the time in the world to get ready," Gwen supplied as she flipped to the next page of Witch Weekly. Michael was also reading a magazine, but Turais suddenly noticed the man's eyes were glancing above his magazine at the staircase. The magazine was held upside-down.

         Turais stifled a laugh and spared him the embarrassment. He glanced around the room and his eyes landed on a letter that came from the scholarship application.

         "Oh, Kaiden applied for the exchange too?" Turais pointed at the similar-looking envelope.

         "The boy was chosen for the trip as well!" Gwen huffed as she suddenly snapped her reading material shut. "And he turned it down!"

         "Kaiden wanted to spend more time with his family," Michael defended.

         "Well, where has Charlus been for the past two weeks then?" Gwen asked.

         "He... He's busy!" Michael said.

         "Have you seen him once since summer started?"

         "Well... no..." Michael muttered as Turais frowned. There were not many incidents on the news lately to warrant such a long, sustained absence from his family.

         "Exactly," Gwen said. "There isn't a point for Kaiden to turn down the offer to 'spend time with family' if his family is not present."

         "He also wanted some quiet and peace after all that has happened," replied Michael firmly. "And I support his decision, whatever it is."

         There was a series of loud thumps down the stairs as Kaiden revealed himself.

         "Oh hey, Turais! So… how do I look?!" Kaiden asked excitedly. But the room was silent. Kaiden started to fidget as he shifted his collar uncomfortably. "Uh… is it bad...?"

         Kaiden was handsomely-dressed in his complete Hogwarts outfit. Light bounced off his black robes with a matte shimmer with the Gryffindor crest stitched proudly over his chest. His crooked tie and the casually placed scarf emblazoned in matching gold and red. His hair was in organized disarray, a deliberate and careful attempt at balancing a casual hairstyle with a hint of the rebellious Potter unkemptness.

         However, the most crucial detail was the pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. If anyone had a shadow of a doubt that he was not a Potter before, this look would put all arguments to rest forever.

         "It's the glasses, isn't it? I knew it…" Kaiden groaned as his eyes creased. He also gnawed on his lips and rubbed his hands together with worry. "Or do you hate the Hogwarts outfit idea… everything does scream Gryffindor… and I guess I'm not going to put my broom in it… I look too much like a broom-head as it is -"

         "You look great..." Michael's voice sounded small and uncertain from beside Turais. He turned to see the Slytherin captain staring at the boy as though he was entranced.

         "Really?" Kaiden's voice sounded uncharacteristically bashful as he ducked his head. The tip of his ears tinted pink.

         "Yea - ahem - yeah…" Michael cleared his throat and swallowed hard, but he couldn't seem to look away. "You look really, really good… except…" Michael waved his hand vaguely at Kaiden's general direction before scratching his head sheepishly.

         Kaiden looked up in mild horror as he examined himself frantically. "Where? I knew I must have messed up something!"

         As Kaiden panicked, Michael suddenly stood up from the couch and walked over to him. He stopped when his face was mere inches from Kaiden's. In response, the Gryffindor's entire body seemingly froze.

         " Uhm … here…" Michael sounded a bit breathless. "You never do your ties properly." 

         Kaiden's throat bobbed nervously as Michael reached to undo Kaiden's tie. When his fingers grazed the skin accidentally, Kaiden sucked in a tiny but audible breath. "Well, it's a bit difficult to get it right with a busted hand."

         Michael breathed out a small chuckle, "You never did it properly before, either."

         "Hey," Kaiden scolded without a bite in his words. "What are you, some kind of tie expert?"

         Turais could hear the quiver in his voice, however, and see that Kaiden's eyes were fixed on the other boy's lips. Michael noticed the stare. His hands stilled for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, feigning ignorance.

         "No. But I'm a Slytherin pureblood, which is even better," he replied airily.

         "Not just any Slytherin pureblood," Kaiden mumbled. Then, realizing what he said out loud, his cheeks turned rosy as he tipped his face away shyly. At the motion, Michael gently guided the bottom of Kaiden's chin up. "Hey," he said softly. "I can't tie your tie if you don't look up, chum."

         "Chum?" Kaiden bit down on his lip as a smile formed on his face. "I haven't heard you say that before, dearie ."

         Michael gave Kaiden a stern glare as Kaiden immediately adopted a straight face. But that was maintained for a mere second before he chuckled. 

         "Stop laughing," Michael said with a faint smile before giving the offending boy a pinch in his waist. Kaiden squirmed and let off a squeal. Michael pinched him again to a similar effect when Kaiden grabbed Michael's wrist preemptively to avoid a third pinch.

         Both of them stilled as they stared at the joined hands. A split moment later, Kaiden released his grip hastily while Michael continued to stare at his own hand as though craving the lost warmth and touch.

         "Sorry..." Kaiden said, flustered. "You should stop making me laugh."

         Michael nodded as he swallowed. Then, he raised both hands again to continue his original task.

         "There," Michael finally said as he gently tugged the collars down. However, his shaky fingers remained around the tie-knot as if he had an internal debate about something. "Much better."

         Kaiden bit down on his lower lip coyly as he gazed into Michael's eyes and said, "What would I ever do without you?"

         "Well…" Michael's voice was coarse. "I did promise to be right beside you…forever…"

         There, they stood in their bubble for a long moment, clearly lost in each other's eyes. Then suddenly, Kaiden yanked on Michael's tie as their lips met.

         Moments later, they broke apart, flushed and breathless from the contact, looking dazed but content.

         "I wanted to do that," Michael whispered, sounding a bit annoyed, as Kaiden started to laugh.

         "I was getting impatient," Kaiden whispered back as he went in for a second kiss. "You should try this on me sometime."

         "I would have done it, but I didn't want to wrinkle your outfit..." Michael huffed with a hint of good-natured disappointment as Kaiden's expression turned ever softer.

         It was intensely intimate - so much that Turais inadvertently turned his gaze away, feeling though he was intruding on their privacy. He met Gwen's eyes as she just wrapped her fingers around her neck and mimed a gagging reaction. 

         Turais shared the sentiment.

         There was a loud knock on the door and clearing of the throat that announced the imminent arrival of an unwanted guest. The two boys quickly sprang apart, looking sheepish, as Dorea walked in with a knowing smirk on her face.

         Then, her eyes focused on her son, and she paused abruptly. A surprised expression crossed her face for a split second before she resumed her brisk pace.

         "Kaiden!" Dorea chided. "I gave you free rein over your portrait profile look, and this is what you come up with?" 

         She waved her wands over his shoulders to flatten out the creases and remove any residual lint. "I thought I raised you better. But I suppose you are a Potter after all - Hogwarts robe in Gryffindor colours - honestly?"

         "But mum! I'm adhering to tradition ," Kaiden said, his demeanour relaxed once again, as his robes were arranged to perfection under her mother's wand.

         Dorea snorted, "You? Tradition? Spare me the laughter." 

         She gave Kaiden a final once-over, then her gaze softened. She kissed him on the forehead and then pulled back as she looked at her son tenderly. "I can't believe you are turning seventeen years old, Kaiden. Soon, you are going to find someone else -“ Her eyes flitted to Michael, “ - other than your poor mother to fix your clothes for you, someone you love and start a family with..." 

         The boy's eyes darted quickly towards Michael. They both averted their gazes immediately.

         Dorea stepped back as her voice trembled, thick with emotion, "Look at you. What a handsome young man you have become. Where did my baby boy go…?"

         "Mum…" Kaiden said softly. He reached up to wipe the forming tears from the corner of her eyes. "I'll always be your baby boy. This will never change." Dorea chuckled wetly as they embraced each other deeply.

         "You really are your father's son," Dorea said as she caressed Kaiden's cheek and observed his features. She touched the rimmed glasses and said, "With the glasses, you looked just like him when he first started to court me - oh, Merlin knows how much time has passed since then. Your father will be so excited when he sees that you are an exact replica of him in the portrait…"

          Dorea sniffed as she quickly dried off her tears. She herded Kaiden towards the door and said, "Okay, chop-chop, young man. Let's not keep the portraitist waiting any longer. Michael, would you be a dear and make sure Kaiden doesn't wrinkle his clothes? I never trust him to keep himself tidy... and you shouldn't either..."

          "Of course, Dorea," Michael readily agreed as he followed Kaiden out of the room. He maintained a respectable distance until Kaiden grabbed Michael's hand with his own. They then walked hand-in-hand, grinning at each other as they travelled down the hallway.

         Dorea observed them with a small, wistful smile on her face. She turned to look at Turais and said, "Oh my! I didn't even spot you, Turais! Were you Disillusioned?"

         "I suppose," Turais chuckled. Feigning ignorance, he asked, "Where's Charlus?"

         Dorea's smile froze and turned into a worried frown briefly before she pressed her lips into a tight smile once more. "You know how he is, always busy with work."

         "I'm surprised to hear that, since there hasn't been a lot of crimes recently," Turais probed. 

         "Well... there's always paperwork," she said with finality. "So, would you two like some tea?"

 

***

 

          The next day, the Black household woke up to the pouring rain that threatened to derail their plans yet again. However, the skies seemed to have taken pity on Regulus’s poor, anxious heart as it started to clear up. By the time breakfast was well underway, talks of strategies on visiting all the important locations at the shopping district had dominated the conversation.

          Then suddenly, hours after most of the morning post owls arrived and left, a solitary owl swooped through the window and landed in front of a bewildered Alex.

          He untied the envelope and scanned through the letter. Shortly after, his excited scream filled the kitchen.

          "Woooo! I'm going to Castelobruxo!" He shouted as he waved his letter.

          "Oh, you're going as well?" Regulus said in surprise as he paused the scoop of cereal in mid-air. "I thought there was only one spot for fourth and fifth years, and Tu..." He caught the warning glare that Turais was giving and connected the dots, "... tomorrow was the day it was announced," Regulus chuckled anxiously as he looked at Turais for help, "Yeah, tomorrow..."

          "No, it was supposed to be yesterday," Alex said distractedly and without detecting the oddity in Regulus's reply as he read through the letter again. Turias could see the sparkle in his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he had in his trembling hands. "I was shortlisted in case the chosen candidate decided not to accept the offer. But I cannot imagine why anyone would do such a silly thing! But I suppose they did!"

          Alex turned to Turais and engulfed him in a big, suffocating hug. "Oh my god! I'm so happy! It's like a dream come true! You have no idea how much I wanted this!"

          Over Alex's shoulder, Turais saw Orion and Regulus’s questioning expression directed at him while Sirius continued to munch on his toast, blissfully unaware.

          The Gryffindor finally looked up and noticed that the three of them were engaging in a silent conversation.

          "What is happening?" He asked with a mouthful of eggs.

          "Nothing," Turais said as he sent a pleading glance at the other two males and tipped his head at Alex, motioning for them to conceal the truth. "I'm so happy for you, Alex. Very well-deserved."

          "Indeed," Orion said in a controlled manner, trying to hide his surprise at the confusing turn of events, as he continued to look at Turais for cues, "Especially for the second-place finisher of his class."

          Mistaking Orion's measured tone as displeasure, Alex immediately sobered up and said hastily, "Excuse me, Mr Black. I meant no disrespect. I should have been more... composed. Turais is, of course, much more deserving of this than I am. I cannot begin to compare myself to him. He is the best friend and mentor and teacher that anyone can ever ask for..."

          As Turais listened on to Alex showering lavish praises on Turais's unworldly qualities, the absurdity of the situation finally caused him to snort out a laugh. The subsequent glare from Alex that was part terror and part anger brought Turais over the edge as he started to laugh without inhibition.

          "You're not helping!" Alex gritted out.

          "I get that I'm apparently Hecate herself in human form," Turais said between gasps of breath as he wiped a tear from his eyes. "You can stop now."

          Alex's face flushed red as a tomato in embarrassment, and his mouth snapped shut.

          "It's okay," Turais said, finally catching his breath. "Have fun across the pond."

          Alex nodded wordlessly as he quickly scooped up all the scrambled eggs into his mouth. Then, he stood up and announced, "I... I'm finished with breakfast. I'll be upstairs writing my acceptance letter..."

          After that, he made a run for the door as the Blacks heard the frantic footsteps running up the stairs outside.

          "Why did you give up your spot?!" Regulus asked sharply as soon as the distant sound of a closing door was heard somewhere upstairs.

          "Because you reminded me of something yesterday, Reggie," Turias said as he cut a slice of ham and ate it. "I should spend more time with my family."

          It was one of many reasons, but an important one nonetheless.

          "You heard father," Regulus said. "There's always next year."

          "I can also apply for it again next year."

          "Yeah, but -"

          "Regulus, stop asking your brother questions if you still want to arrive at Diagon Alley ahead of the crowd," Orion suggested. Regulus glanced at the clock on the wall and gasped. He quickly buried his face in his plate of food.

          Turias excused himself from the table and travelled up to Alex's room. With a knock on the door, he entered.

          "Hey Turais," Alex said as he just finished tying a green ribbon around the tiny scroll of parchment.

          "Congratulations," Turais said as he sat down on the chair beside the writing desk.

          "Thank you," Alex beamed. Then, his expression shifted to a nervous one again, "You're not... unhappy, are you?"

          "Oh no," Turais said quickly as he waved his hands in denial. "No hard feelings at all. I just entered the scholarship for fun and without any expectations. You, on the other hand, surprised me with your reaction."

          "I behaved foolishly, didn't I?" Alex sighed. "I hope your father isn't angry. I didn't mean to seem like I was gloating."

          "Oh, don't worry. You know my father. That's just how he normally speaks," Turais comforted.

          Alex nodded as if he was trying to convince himself of that.

          "But I don't fault him for being surprised," Alex whispered. "With your application, everything pales in comparison. I thought you'd be a cinch to be selected as well. I was more surprised by the fact that you weren't chosen because who else could possibly be a better candidate?"

          Turais's heart squeezed a little. The unintended consequences of his actions were finally creeping their way into his life in a tangible way.

          "Pierricoeur, perhaps? He is the second best in our year," Turais suggested. However, at Alex’s questioning gaze, he cleared his throat and continued hastily. "But that's besides the point now. You've received the offer letter, and you are accepting the offer. This is rightfully yours now."

          "It's...it's just unbelievable, " Alex said. "I've never so much as set foot outside of London, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and the Manor, let alone a different country... well, I suppose I was also in Canada briefly for the Quidditch World Cup - thanks to you - but I've never travelled since... since... we couldn't afford to..."

          "We" in this case evidently meant Alex's late mother and brother. Hearing Alex's story just made Turais more certain that declining the offer was the correct decision.

          Alex needed this opportunity so much more than he did. 

          "We always talked about travelling the world..." Alex sniffed, "... seeing all the places written in those brochures... experiencing different cultures, food, people... But it was always a pipe dream since we could never have afforded it. With them no longer with me, I suppose I could still see the world one day. But it's costly..."

          "You do have your uncle's inheritance," Turais reminded. "When you turn seventeen, that is."

          "I guess I do," Alex chuckled wetly. "I always forget that I have money now. I suppose when you are raised in poverty, that frugal mindset never truly leaves you."

          "Is that why you are so excited about this?" Turais asked. "An all-living-cost-included opportunity to learn?"          

          Alex eyed him suspiciously before shoving him. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

          "I am not," Turais said placatingly. "I appreciate that you value modesty over excess."

          "I would've scoffed if anyone at your position said those words," Alex admitted, "But I know you actually mean what you say."

          "I'll take it as a compliment, then," Turais grinned as his friend turned his attention back at the letter as he read it over again.

 

***

 

          "So, where are we heading to first?" Orion said as the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron started to rearrange itself and reveal a bustling magical alleyway. Many early-risers were shopping around, but the traffic was less congested that it would most certainly be a couple more hours later.

          There was a flash of something at the corner of his eye that nudged his mind and struck him as suspicious. As he looked back into the pub, however, he saw nothing unusual at the establishment. Frowning, Turais turned back to the conversation before him as he shook off the strange feeling he felt. He thought someone was spying on them, but he supposed he was being overly sensitive.

          "Ollivanders!" Regulus immediately gasped as he grabbed Sirius's forearm and dragged him through the still-forming tunnel.

          “Then Quality Quidditch Supplies for my new broom!” Sirius shouted. The two brothers grinned and high-fived each other.

          "Mr Black, I'll pop by the Post Office for a moment," Alex said with his acceptance letter at hand. "I'll meet you at the Ollivanders."

          They parted ways as Orion and Turais strolled behind an unusually animated Regulus. Sirius was equally excited. For him, however, it was just at his usual state of ridiculousness.

          "Regulus seems quite excited," Turais commented as he eyed the normally reserved boy. Secretly, he was glad that Regulus was acting that way. Sometimes, he worried that the boy was repressing his emotions too much.

          Orion hummed in agreement. "But not that much different from your reaction three years ago."

          "For him, however?"

          "It is a surprise," the father admitted.

          "We're here!" Regulus announced as they stopped in front of the slightly decrepit-looking storefront. He pulled in the handle, and a chime went off inside as they entered. "Come on, Turais!"

          Turais moved to follow before he was stopped. Looking up questioningly, Orion asked, "Why did you give up the scholarship, Turais?"

          "Not you too, father," Turais groaned. Why were they so fixated on this? It was just a simple exchange program. "Maybe I just didn't feel like going."

          "It's an excellent opportunity to grow your connections," Orion frowned. 

          "I have more than enough connections that a child my age should have."

          "But I thought influence is what you wanted?"

          "I do want that," Turais said. "But with everything happening right now, I don't think I should go."

          The honest answer was the mystery in the Auror Office, but it was not an answer Turais could give without suspicion. However, he was saved from answering by Alex’s arrival.

          Clearing his throat, he turned to Alex and commented with an air of nonchalance. "That took no time at all."

          The boy eyed the two Blacks nervously for a split moment before feigning ignorance to the peculiar atmosphere before him. "I was the only customer there, so I didn't have to wait long. Where's Regulus and Sirius?"

         "They are inside," Orion said with equal measure. "Let's rejoin them, shall we?"

         But before they were able to enter, the front door opened once more as Mr Ollivander appeared behind an ecstatic Regulus who was waving his wand in the air.

         "Master Black, your youngest son has been matched with a handsome wand, if not a bit complex for a first-year -" Mr Ollivander bowed as a loud series of rattling occurred deep in the shop that interrupted their speech. "Oh, Merlin! Not again. Please excuse me. Your son has paid already, so you are free to leave."

         "Thank -" Orion's words were cut short as the front door slammed shut. He bristled and said in indignation, "That man should count himself fortunate for making the best wands in Europe."

         "I'm sure he meant no disrespect," Turais suggested as he continued to gaze around them. "He is merely... erratic. Brilliant, but erratic." They walked off to the following location, which was Quality Quidditch Supplies under Sirius's incessant demand. Turais turned to face his youngest brother and commented with a tight smile that he did not feel whole-heartedly, "Congratulations, Reggie! You were matched with your first wand!"

         "Thanks!" Regulus said excitedly as he continued to brandish it energetically. "I can't wait to cast spells with it!"

         "What happened when you were matched?" Turais asked casually. "Did sparks fly off the end?"

         "No sparks! But my wand arm went all tingly!" Regulus exclaimed while Turais nodded encouragingly. "And then there was a sudden gust of wind that swirled around me! Sirius felt it too!"

         "Yeap!" Sirius declared proudly as he rested an arm around Regulus. But he was immediately distracted by the sight of the newest broom, "The new Shooting Star 72!" and abandoned the rest of the group as he darted to the display case nearby before Turais could stop him. 

         "What is the wand wood and core?" Orion asked.

         Regulus paused in mid-stride as he looked up in shock.

         "Mr Ollivander forgot to tell me!" Regulus gasped distressingly. "He was distracted by a rattling box when I was matched with this wand! We must go back and ask!"

         "I can help, Regulus. May I take a look at the wand?" Alex asked. Regulus acquiesced and handed it over to the boy, who immediately ran his fingers along the grains of the wood. He lifted the wand to his eye level and balanced both ends of the wand on the tip of his index fingers before peering down the length with one eye, "Black walnut..." Then, he compared his palm width against the wand. "Twelve and... a quarter inches..." He leveraged the ends and flexed the wood slightly. Regulus flinched at the motion, likely in fear that Alex would snap it in half. However, the wood barely bent as Alex commented, "Quite unyielding..." Finally, he placed the wand by his left ear and tapped on it with his finger softly several times. "And... the core is... unicorn hair."

         He placed the wand back in Regulus's hand carefully and repeated, "It should be a twelve-and-a-quarter-inch black walnut and unicorn hair wand. What a fascinating combination!”

         "Really? Alex, you’re amazing!" Regulus said in awe.

         "It was impressive to watch, Alex," Orion nodded approvingly. The tip of Alex's ears turned pink as he nodded shyly.

         "So what does it mean?" Regulus asked curiously. "Didn't you say something about how wands are supposed to reflect the qualities of its owner?"

         "Well... yes..." Alex said thoughtfully. "Sirius's wand, for example - Ebony and phoenix feather - suggests he is non-conforming and comfortable with being an outsider. His wand flexibility is springy if I'm not misremembering. In combination with ebony, it also reveals a potentially mischievous quality. And with a longer wand length alongside the phoenix feather, it dictates a largeness in spirit and marks him as a strong defender of his perceived truth. However, he is too young for any of those statements to be properly assessed, I'm afraid... "

         "That is... unnervingly accurate..." Turais said.

         "Is it?" Alex asked, sounding unconvinced.

         "You'll see soon enough."

         "How about mine?" Regulus asked again, eagerly.

         "So, owners of wands made from Black Walnut are supposedly in possession of good instincts, insight, and introspection," he explained. "However, it is more well-known for a particular quirk. You see, the perfect alignment of the owner's beliefs and his actions is what lends the wand its power. The misalignment of the two, then, is also what takes away its power. So any form of self-deception or conflict between one’s thoughts and behaviour would severely hamper the owner's ability to wield magic.

         "That is especially true in your case, Regulus, given the unicorn hair core. Unicorn hair does not generally make the most powerful wands. However, it is most faithful to its first owner, and its power is most pronounced when conducted with a pureness of heart. Also, the wood is incredibly stiff, which suggests you are a strong-willed person. This suggests that once you manage to attune your inner thoughts and your actions with sincerity, your wand will become quite powerful.”

         When Alex finished, he finally realized that the three Blacks were looking at him owlishly.

         "Uh... any questions?" He asked hesitantly in the silence.

         "I did not understand a word that came out of your mouth, Alex," Regulus said bluntly. He looked at Turais and asked, "Is everyone who enjoys wandlore incomprehensible to others?"

         "Sorry..." Alex muttered as he scratched his nape. "I got a tad carried away. Basically, don't lie to yourself or do things against your belief, and you will fare just fine, Regulus."

         "I think Regulus is far too young to experience this particular issue," Orion suggested mildly.

         "Of course, of course..." Alex said hastily, but Turais noticed that Regulus was now eying his wand with slight apprehension. “But as Mr Ollivander rightfully observed, it is an unusually nuanced and complicated wand to be matched with a first-year...”

 

***

 

         The day of Kaiden's seventeenth birthday had arrived.

         "Potter House!" Turais shouted as he threw the white powder onto the fireplace beneath his boots. A wall of green flames erupted as he felt himself spinning when he suddenly slammed into a brick wall and landed flat on his buttocks. He looked around to reorient him when he found out that he was still in the blackened, soot-covered fireplace of 12 Grimmauld Place.

         He turned and smiled sheepishly at the confused household waiting to travel after him.

         "I thought you finally mastered the art of Floo-ing, Turais," Alex commented with a chuckle. Turais shook his head as he knew he would never live this down.

         "Yeah, you had such a good run," Sirius sighed dramatically as well. "It's almost been a year without an incident, and I was almost about to forget all the times you never managed to Floo properly."

         Turais turned to his father, who only shrugged unhelpfully with a barely suppressed grin. With a scowl, he stomped out of the fireplace and patted down his soot-covered robes. Grabbing another handful of Floo powder, he repeated the motion and shouted "Potter House!" as clear as possible. However, Turais was once again disappointed as he found himself tripping over the logs and sprawling onto the green carpet in a heap.

         He looked up at Orion, whose amused expression now turned into a frown. He pulled out his wand and tapped it on the fireplace as a translucent, web-like image floated above the mantelpiece. Orion untangled the Floo control and seized on a particular thread representing the link to the Potter House. Instead of an uninterrupted string that connected the centre node - 12 Grimmauld Place - to another destination node, Turais could see that the string was severed and floating aimlessly in the space.

         "The Potters closed off their Floo," Orion said with a frown.

         "Let's contact Michael. If anyone knows anything about Kaiden, he would," Turais said as he scattered the Floo powder onto the fireplace. Green flames replaced the gentle flickering of yellow and red as Turais said, "Wilkins House," before dipping his head into the fireplace. Ignoring the ashy taste that was building up in his mouth, Turais opened his eyes to an unfamiliar sitting room with a similar decor as 12 Grimmauld Place. However, the ambiance was somehow even more repressed and impersonal. There were no photographs or portraits of its inhabitants. The sole cabinet was lined only with religious texts and utility books. The living space seemed not only void of beings but also of soul and spirit.

         There was a distant series of hurried footsteps as a young girl around ten ran into view. Her dress was of pure white, contrasting greatly against the gloomy background of the room. Her eyes latched onto his face and widened. Then, she darted towards him as if he was her most desperate chance of survival. It was then that Turais noticed the bruises around her neck and face.

         "Who are you?" she asked in a hushed whisper as her eyes darted frantically. "Answer me!"

         "I'm Turais Black, and I am looking for Car-"

         "You are Turais Black," she said in sudden recognition. An excited smile formed on her face as she looked behind her back again. Then, she leaned closer and said hurriedly, "My brother has mentioned you to us before. Please help us!"

         "What are you -"

         "No, listen to me!" She hissed. There was a sense of urgency in her voice that Turais recognized as fear and desperation, "- The Potters are in danger, I overheard my father planning something."

         "What do you mean?" Turais asked worriedly.

         "My parents locked Michael in his room. And I heard my father say something about removing the Potters last night. They are not safe -"

         "How dare you leave your room, Gratiana?!" A voice shouted from outside his field of vision as a series of footsteps started to stomp. The girl's complexion turned pale and in growing fear.

         "I can't talk more," she said urgently. She looked behind her and moved her hand towards the button for the Floo to disconnect, "Goodbye -"

         But before he could call out for the girl to stop disconnecting, the girl darted away from the fireplace. Then, he watched in silent horror as a woman came into view and seized a fistful of Gratiana's hair. The young girl screamed, her eyes looking towards the fireplace pleadingly, as she was dragged out of the sitting room.

         "You wretched girl! Who do you think you are contacting for help?!" A woman shouted. 

         "I didn't contact anyone!" The girl sobbed before there was a ringing slap. 

         "Are you rebelling against us as well?!"

         "I'm no-"

         There was another slap as Gratiana screamed out another sob.

         "Liar!"

         There was a series of footsteps approaching the fireplace as the girl screamed, "I swear!"

         Turais jerked his head out of the fireplace. The last thing he saw before the head-spinning whirl was a glimpse of a woman entering the sitting room and glancing at the fireplace. However, he did not know whether she saw that the Floo was active.

         Turais gasped as he crawled away from the dying flames in the safety of 12 Grimmauld Place. His entire body was trembling as he tried to process what he just witnessed. Then, he realized that Orion was kneeling before him and asking him something.

         "W...What?" Turais asked with crazed eyes.

         "Are you alright, Turais?" Orion asked.

         "No..." Turais gasped out shakily. 

         "What did you see?" Orion pressed on with alarm and concern.

         "I... I..." Turais wanted to explain, but then he realized that he had something more important to do first. He crawled on his knees towards the fireplace and sprinkled another mist of powder onto the flames before shouting "Potter Manor!" and extending his neck into the Floo.

         Opening his eyes, he saw the familiar layout of the warmly-decorated sitting room. In the distance, he could hear some commotion as unidentifiable voices murmured.

        "Fleamont!" Turais shouted as the noise stopped abruptly. Then, there was a series of rapid footsteps as the man with his characteristic monocle appeared through the doorway.

         "Turais?" His voice called out.

         "Oh, thank Merlin," Turais gasped out almost in relieved tears. Frantically, he replied, "Fleamont! I'm here."

         The man looked slightly taken aback from the dramatic response as he sat in front of the fireplace. "What is the matter -"

         "Listen, Fleamont," Turais gasped desperately. "Something is terribly wrong. Michael is in trouble. And I think Charlus is as well."

Notes:

I actually debated on whether I should omit Fleamont's Floo-call in the final part of this chapter. But I felt that was too mean of a cliff-hanger. So before you feel too angsty about the ending, remind yourself that it could have been much, much worse.

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-03-19

Chapter 54: The Auror Conspiracy (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I hope you enjoy the new update!

- ravenclawblues 2021-04-06

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

THE AUROR CONSPIRACY


 

          "Can I come through?" Turais asked urgently. "This matter is too important to discuss over the Floo."

          The man blinked at the unexpected request before he recovered with a smile. "Of course, Turais. I will connect the Floo right now."

          Turais used his hands, which were still holding onto the edges of the fireplace back in 12 Grimmauld Place, and heaved his body into the flame completely. There was a disorienting lurch of his torso as he rolled forward into the Potter Manor living room. When he was back on his feet, he noticed that Fleamont was by the door shouting out, "Euphemia, would you mind tending to Turais?" The elderly man turned to Turais and explained, "I have something urgent that I need to tend to at my study. I will be with you shortly."

          There was something unyielding in his tone, and Turais nodded as the man walked out into the corridor. Just then, the fireplace behind him flashed green as Orion emerged from the flames as well.

          "What is happening, Turais?" Orion hissed. "

          "I will explain everything when Fleamont comes back," Turais said. "What about Siri and Reggie? And Alex?"

          "I instructed them to stay at home. Kreacher will take care of them," Orion replied simply as Euphemia walked in with a tray of tea and biscuits. She was panting slightly as if she was called to prepare everything at a moment's notice.

          "Orion, Turais. What a surprise!" She said with a strained smile as she directed them to their chairs and started placing down the items. There was an air of unease and nervousness exuding from the lady, but Turais did not know the cause. However, Turais noticed that her eyes constantly drifted towards the door several times as if she was anticipating the imminent arrival of some unknown guest. They all sat down and exchanged a few pleasantries until Fleamont rejoined them a few minutes later. He sat down in an armchair beside Turais and smiled. However, Turais noticed the silent glance and nod at his wife as their demeanour relaxed by a fraction.

          "So, you mentioned something about Charlus and Michael?" Fleamont asked as he sipped on his tea.

          "Yes," Turais said. "Our family was planning to travel to Kaiden's birthday party through the Floo, but we discovered that the Floo connection was severed. Do you know where Charlus and his family are currently?"

          "Oh?" Fleamont asked with mild intrigue. "I can't say I do. We planned to head over later today, so we haven't tried to contact them. And what about Michael?"

          "Here is the truly alarming part of the story," Turais said as he repeated what he saw at Wilkins's home. All the while, he gauged the couple's reaction very carefully. However, they seemed to receive his discovery calmly.

           Too calmly.

          "I'm sure Charlus is in no danger," Fleamont said nonchalantly. "However, I am more concerned about Michael and his younger sister, Gratiana? It sounds like they are suffering from false imprisonment and domestic violence."

          "Of course," Turais's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I was thinking that I should report to the Auror -" He saw a minute flinch of muscle on Fleamont's face at the word, "- Office as a basis for a search warrant."

          "Perhaps... you should request for one through the Wizengamot courts instead," Fleamont suggested.

          "Why?" Turais latched onto the unusual suggestion immediately. The cup in Fleamont's hand stopped abruptly as some tea spilt onto the carpet.

          "Uh..." Fleamont's eyes darted around. "Uh... because... your grandfather would be able to shepherd the request along, of course."

          "And how about the threat against Charlus?"

          "I really wouldn't worry about that..." Fleamont said hastily as he glanced at his wife again. "That's completely drivel."

          Turais recognized that Fleamont and Euphemia were hiding something. They were acting too strangely at a potential threat against their family. The only plausible explanation was that they knew precisely where Charlus and his family were. And the likelihood that they were currently at Potter Manor was extremely high.

          But why the secrecy? Something big was happening that Turais was not aware of... something that involved the Wilkins, the Potters, and the Aurors.

          Just as Turais wondered what he should ask next, a house-elf appeared in the sitting room. She walked up to Fleamont with her large eyes quivering, "Master, law enforcement officers are at the gates requesting entry. They say they have a search warrant."

          Turais and Orion exchanged a confused expression as Fleamont's expression turned into one of grim determination.

          "Send them in. We have no grounds to turn them away," the man turned to the father and son and said, "Orion, Turais, I think it is better that you leave -"

          "We are staying," Turais interrupted.

          "Turais," Orion hissed as he tugged on his robe. "There is no point involving us in this nasty business. We cannot offer any aid anyway."

          "You can leave, father," Turais said firmly. "But I am staying. I do believe our presence will ensure that whoever comes through those doors behaves properly."

          Orion gave Turais a pointed glare that was mixed with unvoiced frustration and exasperation. Crossing his arms, he stayed put.

          A short while later, around two dozens of stern-looking individuals walked through the front doors authoritatively. Leading the group was a middle-aged man with a narrow toothbrush moustache as he looked around with hawk-like, inquisitive eyes that had a predatorial edge to it. He took off his hat and turned to Fleamont, revealing short, black hair combed over with an unusually straight parting on the side.

          His eyes widened a fraction at the sight of Turais and Orion, but he immediately returned his gaze to the Potters as he rummaged his robes and pulled out a parchment.

          "Mr and Mrs Potter, I will have to request that you remain here under our surveillance at all times while the search is conducted," the man said with a clipped, precise tone. "I am the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch. I have a search warrant issued by the Auror Office and approved by the Department Head of DMLE authorizing us to seize and retain any material today that may be relevant to our pursuit of the highly-dangerous suspect - Former Deputy Head Auror Charlus Potter."

          "What?!" Fleamont breathed out in utter shock and confusion as the announcement elicited a similar reaction in the Blacks. "What crimes are you accusing him of?"

          Despite his own turmoil at this unexpected development, Turais was able to take a moment to note that Fleamont's reaction was genuine.

          "For the theft of highly classified information and conspiring to overthrow the Auror Authorities and the Ministry," Crouch said, “The Head Auror has formally charged him with insurrection and sedition -"

          "Insurrection and sedition?!" Fleamont thundered as he slammed his hand on the nearby wooden table forcefully. "Impossible! Desmond would never do that! What you are suggesting is preposterous!"

          "We have an abundance of evidence. And I assure you that the search warrant was approved by Head Auror Shafiq," Crouch said wryly as he put away the search warrant and laced his fingers together. "We have his co-conspirators under custody. Many witnesses saw them accessing Head Auror Desmond Shafiq and Head of DMLE Ambrose Wilkins’s offices without consent. All that is left unaccounted for is the primary suspect himself."

          Combining this accusation with the suspicious behaviour that Fleamont and Euphemia exhibited minutes ago and their seeming lack of urgency with Charlus's predicament, there was one likely explanation to the dire situation at hand.

          Charlus’s leads likely led him to the Head Auror Shafiq and Head of DMLE Wilkins. In order to obtain the information, he searched their offices illegally. However, he was somehow caught in the act and had to escape. Then, Charlus likely asked Fleamont to provide the Cottage as a temporary residency away from prying eyes. However, he anticipated that the Aurors would search Potter Manor, so Charlus refused to divulge any details of his plight to ensure that Fleamont's reaction was genuine. But that still did not answer why he was accused of insurrection and sedition. Unless... 

          Unless Charlus found something incriminating that made him a target that had to be gotten rid of.

          This was a full-blown civil war within the DMLE!

          But who was behind all this and how far did this lead?

          As Turais reeled from the revelation, Fleamont continued to argue, "And why did you come here? I have no idea as to his whereabouts."

          Crouch peered at the man before him carefully as he said, "We'll see about that." He waved an arm over his shoulder and beckoned his subordinates forward, "Search the Manor! I want every nook and cranny looked into and every surface inspected thoroughly!"

          "I assure you that the Wizengamot will hear about this," Fleamont threatened.

          "You are well within your rights to petition the Wizengamot for a stay on the search. But by the time the order comes, our business here will be finished," Crouch said. "Now, Mr Potter. Can I have a look at the layout of your estate?"

          "I don't have a choice, do I?" Fleamont said, glowering at the man's hard-nosed behaviour. At the silent affirmation, he continued harshly, "Please give me a moment to search for it in my study."

          He turned to leave the inspector, but the man cleared his throat. Fleamont whipped around, bristling with indignation, as he looked at Crouch questioningly. However, the other man merely waved an officer over and pointed at the Fleamont.

          "Mr Potter," the officer said. "Let me escort you. We want to ensure nothing is altered. It's all part of proper protocol, I'm sure you understand."

          "Of course," Fleamont gritted out as the duo disappeared down the corridor. A minute later, they returned with several large scrolls in the officer's arms.

          "Sir, here are the plans."

          Crouch nodded as he unrolled the plans with a flick on the wand. Complex drawings filled with lines and annotations were on full display as Turais recognized the depictions of the various features on the Manor grounds as well as the different floors of the structure itself. However, something caught his attention. He wandered towards the map that outlined the entire Manor ground and noticed something odd about it.

          According to his knowledge, the property extended into the town proper of Godric's Hollow itself since the Potter Cottage was linked to the Manor grounds. However, on this map, the edge of the Manor grounds stopped short at the town's outskirts with no mention of a cottage. Turais's eyes widened in recognition as he barely contained a gasp. He looked up and saw Fleamont's eyes glued to the map he was looked at fervently, which only served to reinforce his suspicion.

          "Are these plans altered in any way?" Crouch asked sharply as his eyes bored into Fleamont's.

          Fleamont pressed his lips into a thin line and paused for a moment.

          "No."

          "Of course," Crouch said with an unpleasant twist of lips. He snapped his fingers and beckoned two other officers over. Without breaking eye contact with Fleamont, Crouch said, "After you are finished here, search the grounds carefully. Make sure the boundaries of the Manor are exactly as depicted in the plans. If there is a single stone out of place, notify me."

          "Yes, sir," the witches nodded as they gathered the plans.

          Crouch walked forward menacingly and stopped when he was standing next to a petrified Fleamont, shoulder-to-shoulder.

          "I do hope, for your sake, that I do not find anything suspicious," he whispered softly. "The Ministry holding cell is not nearly as pleasant as what you are accustomed here."

          Fleamont's moustache twitched as he stood silently.

          "Give me the list of evidence you have," Turais demanded as Crouch turned his attention to the teenager.

          "You have no right to access this info -"

          "would like to see the evidence list," Fleamont said as he extended his palm expectantly.

          Crouch gave Turais a glare before handing over the inventory of evidence to Fleamont, who immediately handed it off to Turais. He quickly scanned throughout the list and saw that the most powerful evidence was the statement provided by the Head Auror. All the other witness evidence and crime scene items were circumstantial at best. They would barely hold together as a viable argument for burglary, let alone for immensely severe crimes such as insurrection and sedition.

          This made absolutely no sense, and Turais recognized that something was awfully suspicious.

          "Based on what you said, there is not enough evidence to support an insurrection and sedition charge," Turais pointed out immediately as he gestured at the parchment.

          "Some pieces of evidence are redacted due to security concerns -"

          "Complete bullocks!" Turais exclaimed. "You have no direct evidence, no sparking wand, nothing! You have no case, and we both know that damn well! What is all this about?!"

          "Your reputation precedes you, Mr Black," Crouch said snidely as he snatched the inventory out of Turais's grip. "But what does a fourth-year know about wizarding law?"

          "Clearly more than you, considering that you are acting upon this search warrant based only on the words of the Head Auror," Turais returned. "Have you considered how much trouble you would be in if it turns out that the Head Auror was incorrect, or even the suspicious one? What would that do to your reputation and career? Huh?"

          The fierce confidence in Crouch faltered suddenly as his eyes flashed in panic for a split moment, but it was enough for Turais to know that Crouch was worried about that as well.

          "This is none of your concern," Crouch hissed.

          "Well," Orion's voice rang out coolly against the ambient noises of hurried footsteps and creaking of hinges. However, Turais was familiar enough with his demeanour to tell the severe discomfort he was experiencing. "I dare say that this is enough excitement in one day for my son. We should take our leave -"

          "I'm afraid I will have to ask you to remain here until we have concluded the search, Mr Black," Crouch interrupted firmly. "In the case that... you might be aiding the criminals -"

          "How dare you insinuate that we are associated with such traitorous behaviour!" Orion bellowed more angrily than Turais expected, which led him to believe this was all just a ruse. "Might I remind you that it was my father who aided your meteoric rise through the Ministry from your... incident years ago."

          For the first time since he had arrived, Turais noticed a slight flicker of fear and uncertainty in the man under his strong persona of patronizing righteousness.

          "A rabid dog might bite the hand that feeds it, but I am certain you are much better than that," Orion said. "Am I correct to presume that is the case, Mr Crouch?"

          Crouch's eyes flitted between the Blacks before he tugged on his suit coat and cleared his throat. "Well, of course, Mr Black. Please do excuse my manners. I was... caught up in the moment. I meant no offense."

          "Then, we shall leave," Orion repeated the request again firmly. Crouch looked conflicted, but he ultimately gave a curt nod. "Let's go, Turais."

          Turais shot the nervous-looking couple a comforting smile, hoping to convey some sort of hope, but they did not spare a glance at him, likely caught up in their own thoughts. He left with Orion, knowing that there was nothing more he could do even if he stayed.

          However, the first order of business was to make sure that Charlus was not caught. If he was in Potter Cottage, Turais had to warn him. Once they Floo-ed back to 12 Grimmauld Place, Turais turned to Orion and said, "We need to go to Godric's Hollow."

          "What?!" Orion gasped incredulously. "I just managed to get us away from the entire situation!"

          "I think I know where Charlus is," Turais said quickly. "I need to warn him to leave before he is caught!"

          Orion grabbed Turais's shoulder tightly with his nails digging in painfully. He hissed, "He's a dangerous criminal!"

          "He is at most a suspect," Turais retorted. "And you don't really believe that Charlus did such a thing, do you?"

          "I don't care if he did it or not," Orion said. "We should not involve ourselves in this! There is clearly something far more sinister happening in the Auror Office and the Department in general. It is not something we are equipped to deal with!"

          "Father, listen to me," Turais pleaded. "Charlus must have some incriminating evidence on the Head Auror Shafiq and Department Head Wilkins that is making them move against Charlus so quickly with charges of crimes that he did not commit."

          "And what to do you know about the truth?! And who to trust?" 

          "I trust Charlus," Turais said firmly. "And we need to save the Potters from -"

          "Save them from what? Why are you so obsessed with the Potters?" Orion thundered as he shook Turais's shoulders. "It's always James or the Kaiden boy, and now Charlus! You're not a Potter, for Merlin's sake! You're a Black! Turais Orion Black! My eldest son!"

          "I..." Turais had no answer for that accusation. Then, he switched tacks. "I don't have time to argue with you, father. I am going to Apparate to Godric's Hollow now. If you do not Side-Along with me, I will trip the Trace. But if you come with me..."

          "Don't make this sound like a choice, Turais!" Orion spat. "You are forcing my hand, and you know that very well."

          "I do," Turais confessed with a hint of remorse. However, he pressed on with his argument, "But my hands are forced as well."

          He gripped Orion's forehand and closed his eyes.

          "Wait! I have never been to Godric's Hollow," Orion said quickly as Turais's eyes flew open. "I can't visualize the location."

          "I have. And I will Apparate us there," Turais said as he focused on the image of the derelict ruins of the cottage covered with snow, carvings, and signed names with Everlasting Ink. There was a tight squeeze in his chest at the thought, unrelated to the sensation of Apparating, as he pivoted on the spot.

          "Wait, when did you learn how to -"

          Orion's sentence was cut short as they warped from the cozy interior of the home out into the bright sunlit skies on Godric's Hollow. Turais found himself looking directly at Potter Cottage at its former glory before it was reclaimed by ivy vines and years of disrepair.

          Suddenly, Turais noticed a familiar figure standing at the window next to the front door. Their gazes connected as Charlus's eyes widened in shock.

          "Where are we?" Orion asked hesitantly as he looked up and down the street. "Where is the cottage?"

          "We are looking at it," Turais breathed out reverently as he slowly walked up towards the gates. He soaked up his first view of the idyllic Potter Cottage with its quaint garden visible above the waist-high stone fence. It was like walking into a memory that he could never recall, because even as Harry Potter, he never restored the Cottage as it was a pain he was up unable to muster the courage to properly address. Walking up to the gates, he opened it and the illusion suddenly shattered for Orion, which elicited a sharp intake of breath. The front door swung open as Charlus marched out with his wand pointed directly at Turais. At the sight, Orion sprung into action and pulled out his wand before dragging Turais behind him, shielding Turais from view.

          "Do not point your wand at my son!" Orion enunciated dangerously as Charlus trained his wand at Orion instead. Turais could see that Charlus's eyes were bloodshot with a dark shadow of facial hair around his mouth and jaw. His eyes were taut with alertness and suspicion.

          "How did you know I'm here?"

          "That's not important, Charlus. We were at the Manor a few minutes ago, and Bartemius Crouch came in with a search warrant. He is searching the Potter Manor for you as we speak," Turais said calmly, peeking from behind Orion's protective arm. "You have been charged with insurrection and sedition. You are a suspect - a fugitive."

          "I don't believe you," Charlus spat as his wand arm wavered for a moment. "Why are you here?"

          "We are here to tell you to leave before they arrive," Turais said. "I know you told Fleamont to hide you, but I fear that Crouch is clever enough to see through the deception."

          "But... but that's too fast," Charlus gasped. "How... how... why are they coming after me so quickly?"

          "What did you find in their offices?" Turais asked urgently.

          Charlus's eyes sharpened again as he jabbed his wand at Turais forcefully again. "I don't trust you."

          "We could have headed to the Manor now and hand you and your family over to Crouch," Turais pointed out. "Considering that you are still standing here pointing a wand at me, I dare say you have no choice but to trust us."

          Turais watched as Charlus engaged in a battle against himself. Finally, he relaxed his wand arm in defeat and asked, "What do you want?"

          "Come with us to 12 Grimmauld Place," Turais said.

          "What?!" Orion shouted in a tone that was akin to a shriek. And Orion never shrieked.

          "Father, Great-aunt Dorea is in that house as well," Turais argued. "You cannot possibly let her be dragged into this mess as well! We must help them!"

          Orion had no response.

 

***

 

          "Thank you so much for hosting us, Turais," Dorea said with a polite but tense smile. Kaiden was also sitting quietly beside her with his food and drink untouched. The boy had not spoken a word yet. Charlus, meanwhile, continued to hold a bag in his arms tightly while eyeing Turais doubtfully.

          Turais smiled tightly with a nod. A reluctant Orion was currently on the look-out at the Ministry for information regarding the raid at the Potter Manor.

          "Not to worry, Dorea. We're family. Of course, we have to lend a helping hand in your time of need."

          "One tends to find themselves friendless when in times of need," Dorea remarked as her thumb rubbed on the smooth porcelain cup distractedly. 

          "I would not say that, Dorea," Turais said soothingly. "Given that your closest allies are all being held at the Ministry or likely under constant surveillance."

          "I suppose that is true," she sighed. "But it must have been a difficult decision to make, regardless."

          "It wasn't, believe me," Turais said. "But I'm sorry that I have to end the pleasantries." Turning to Charlus, Turais said, "Charlus, can I borrow you for a brief discussion in the study?"

          Charlus nodded wordlessly as they entered the neighbouring room.

          "I know you don't trust me, Charlus, but you and your family are stuck here as wanted criminals, so you will have to rely on Orion and me for any liaison or contact with the outer world," Turais said bluntly. "Considering that we have yet to hand the three of you to the Auror authorities or coerce you into accepting any deals, I hope you can afford me with some goodwill moving forward -"

          "Who are you?" Charlus asked harshly again.

          "Is this the question you wish to answer right now?" Turais countered. "Or would you rather find out who is behind this... Auror conspiracy?"

          Charlus's stern gaze on Turais lingered for several more seconds.

          "What have you found in their offices?" Turais prompted again.

          "Nothing much, actually," Charlus admitted. "That is why I am surprised that they took such drastic action against me."

          "Then you must have discovered something so damaging that they decided to silence you by striking first," Turais concluded. "There must be something hidden in whatever you took."

          "I tried to make sense of all the evidence," Charlus admitted. "But there does not seem to be anything out of the ordinary."

          "Let's go through them together. Two heads are always better than one."

          The older man hesitated for a brief moment again.

          "I don't think confidentiality matters much at this point, Charlus, if that is your remaining worry," Turais added with slight impatience. Under his imploring glance, Charlus finally placed the bag that he held onto for the entire time onto the desk and poured out its content. They were also items commonly found in offices. Some were copied documents. Others were seemingly irrelevant objects such as tea leaves, mugs, and utensils.

          As Turais sorted through the thick wads of parchments, he noticed that most of the documents were suspiciously focused on intelligence-gathering.

          "Is this a representative sample of the documents in the Head Auror's office?" Turais asked.

          "What do you mean?" Charlus frowned.

          "There seems to be a lot of documents concerning magical surveillance," Turais said as he levitated several files and directed them towards Charlus. "Isn't that the primary responsibility of the Intelligence Department? Also, most of the surveillance is automated. This amount of personal oversight by the Head Auror is odd."

          Charlus's frown deepened as he flipped through the folder filled with Spell Contravention Map images.

          "I have requested Desmond to assign me to liaise with the Intelligence Department on multiple occasions, but he was adamant that he should be the one to take care of it. In fact, he imposed a rule that forbade communications between the Intelligence Department with the regular Aurors. He cited it as a mandate to increase the impartiality and independence of the Department."

          Something was amiss here, but Turais decided to turn his focus to the rest of the seemingly unrelated objects scattered around for now.

          "What are these?" Turais inspected a clear bag containing biscuits.

          "I have... taken samples of all consumables inside his office, as well as from the Wilkin's office," Charlus said as Turais glanced that the several other bags of unassuming food items and utensils, including cookies, tea leaves, a mug, and mint candies.

          "What are you suspecting?"

          "That... that the Head Auror has been controlled under a regime of mind-controlling potions," Charlus revealed.

          "Potions?" Turais asked incredulously. "Are you sure he is not placed under an Imperius?"

          "I have evidence that rules out the usage of Imperius," Charlus said simply.

          "But how do you confirm that?" Turais pressed on the matter. The difficulty with detecting the Imperius Curse was the fact that... there was not an effective way of doing so. Besides fighting off the Curse with sheer willpower, the only known method to lift the Imperius without the caster's permission was Goblin magic. However, as all things Goblin-related, it was a heavily-guarded secret from wizardkind. The inaccessibility of Goblin magical enchantments made installments such as the Thief's Downfall deep in the bowels of Gringotts few and far between. 

          There were other less reliable methods, such as feeding Wit-Sharpening Potion to the suspected Imperius-ed victim to aid them in fighting off the Curse. One could also employ Legilimency to check for signs of whether a person's mind was being controlled. However, that would also depend on the reliability of the person performing Legilimency. Furthermore, such an act would alert the caster of the Imperius Curse that their victim was being investigated into -

          Turais's eyes widened at the thought.

          "Did you perform Legilimency on the Head Auror?" He asked as Charlus's eyes flashed in surprise.

          "Yes," Charlus confirmed. "His mind was not under the control of an Imperius. Why are you so fixated on the possibility of the Imperius Curse being used, Turais?"

         "It's just... I..." 

          The revelation confused Turais. The Death Eaters were not known for using any method of mind-control other than the Imperius. And why would they when it was the most effective and difficult to detect even in the best of circumstances?

          Could this possibly be something completely unrelated to the Death Eaters? 

          Before Turais continued down that path of thought, he returned to the pressing matter at hand.

         "So, you suspect these food items are tampered with?" Turais changed the topic.

         "I am certain it is something that Desmond ingests regularly and in trace amounts because it is impossible for something that high in Potion content not to have tripped the wards. Some of the bags are from the Department Head Wilkins's office as well," Charlus said. "But what I need now is help with analyzing these samples."

          A person suddenly popped into Turais's mind.

          "I know someone who can help, but I will need you to entrust these samples to me."

          Charlus sighed, "I suppose I don't have a lot of say in this matter, do I?"

          "I'm afraid not," Turais grimaced. 

          "Where are you going?"

          "Damocles's lab," Turais said. "He will make quick work of this. I will return as soon as possible, and please make sure my father doesn't know about this."

          Charlus nodded curtly as he watched Turais gather the samples together.

 

***

 

          Turais paced around Damocles's lab with trepidation for the past hour as he watched Damocles hover over several tiny counter-top cauldrons that were the size of fondue pots. Throughout the entire process, Turais saw the man add various mixtures to different cauldrons as their contents flashed and bubbled in a multitude of colours. Slowly, each of the cauldrons turned colourless until one remained in a swirling grey.

          "It's the tea leaves," Damocles finally declared as his eyes sparkled with a child-like joy as if he was savouring the victory of cracking a particularly pesky mystery. Handing Turais the detailed, extensive notes he took, Damocles explained, "They are pre-treated by a potent Potions blend. Tasteless, odourless, and quite undetectable unless one knew what to look for. A similar composition, but only in trace amounts, was found on the mug. But all the other samples came back negative."

          So, nothing in Wilkins's office was linked to whatever the Head Auror consumed. Interesting...

          "What is in the blend?" Turais asked.

          "A mixture of Gregory's Unctuous Unction, Amortentia, Befuddlement Draught, and a lace of the Draught of Peace."

          All the Potions targeted the drinker's mental capabilities. However, Turais was unfamiliar with the synergistic effects of the blend. Furthermore, while Amortentia was a restricted Potion, none of them were considered "poisons."

          "What would be its effects on the drinker of the tea?"

          "The Unction lowers the drinker's suspicion and generates a strong sense of loyalty towards the administrator. Amortentia at such a low concentration would not evoke an infatuation but instead elevate trust and goodwill. The Befuddlement Draught would further scramble any original thoughts by the drinker, allowing the Unction's effect to become even more pronounced. Finally, the Draught of Peace was likely added to calm the drinker's mind if any confusion manages to manifest itself, just for good measure..." Damocles said as he eyed the boy. "This would likely place the drinker under a trance-like state with extreme loyalty towards whoever drugged the tea leaves..."

          "Indeed..." Turais frowned as he looked over the components. Many of the ingredients had conflicting properties that would have counteracted each other in various ways. "Why are there so many different neutralizing reactions? Doesn't that mean that the Potions' effects are lost?"

          "This blend is quite ingenious," Damocles explained with a sparkle in his eyes, "All the neutralizing reactions actually help aid the removal of the Potions from the body without altering their combined effects."

          "That sounds like Golpalott's Second Law," Turais mused. Finding antidotes or neutralizing agents to blended potions was his worst aspect in Potions, unfortunately. And the three Laws by Golpalott were one of the only things he retained from those classes. "The effects of blended Potions are larger than the sum of its parts."

          Damocles looked pleasantly surprised.

          "You are quite correct, Turais. While the Third Law is most famous, most tend to forget that it only applies to blended Poisons. On the other hand, the Second Law applies to all blended Potions."

          "You mentioned this blend speeds up the body's elimination process of the Potion. So, are you suggesting that this cannot be detected under the normal screening of bloodwork?"

          "To begin with, those tests are not as sensitive as they advertise it to be, even the ones for Aurors," Damocles said. "Even if they were, these Potions are known for their quick degradation and elimination from the body. Amortentia is especially notorious for tracing, which is why it is such a dangerous Potion, although I suppose the outward infatuation does make its effects quite obvious."

          "Not in this case, however. Why is that?"

          "Whoever made this blend took care to balance all the components of each Potion to modulate the adverse effects of each. And the fact that its effects remain potent by only pre-treating the tea leaves suggests the person has a good command over their knowledge of Potions."

          "So would you agree with the assessment that the culprit is well-learned in the arts of Potion-making?"

          "Without a shadow of a doubt," Damocles confirmed. "I meant to ask, Turais. How did you come across this blend?"

          "I have to leave," Turais said immediately as he headed for the Floo, ignoring the question. "Thank you for the help, Damocles!"

          "No worries! Bye...!" Damocles shouted as the boy disappeared through the Floo. 

 

***

 

          "Mind-controlling potions?" Charlus repeated after Turais relayed the information. It seemed that despite his previous deduction, the confirmation still managed to surprise him.

          "Are you certain that you have scoured Wilkins's office?" Turais asked.

          "I did not miss anything, I assure you," Charlus said.

          "We must search his home as well, then.”

          "But how? And based on what? Everyone I trust at the Office is either detained or likely monitored closely," Charlus gritted out in frustration. "I just heard over the wireless that Fleamont was arrested for unauthorized magical concealment of a location, and I doubt Crouch would release him until the statutory 48-hour limit is reached. So it is impossible to ask him to obtain a search warrant for Wilkins's residency. And even if we do obtain the search warrant, who will execute it?"

          Turais's mind whirled in overdrive when a plan started to come together in his mind.

          "Fleamont was not charged with anything else?"

          "Nothing else," Charlus said.

          "Without any further complications, Fleamont will only be slapped with monetary fines because illegal Unplottability is a misdemeanour," Turais said after a sigh of relief. "The current predicament that we are in is that you, indeed, trespassed the offices of both the Head Auror and the Head of DMLE. What is most confusing, however, is that they accused you of something with such severity but without seemingly any evidence to back up their claim. Another problem is that the bounty on your head will continue to stand unless someone overturns it. But we don't have anything on our side to disrupt the validity of the claim, which places us at a significant disadvantage."

          Turais continued to muse, "Something doesn't add up here. They could have issued a search warrant, even if it was just a burglary charge. Why did they go with sedition and insurrection? Those charges are practically unprecedented, especially when levied against a Deputy Head Auror. It is as if they are trying to bring a lot of attention to your plight..."

          "But with so much scrutiny on this incident, they must know that their case will not survive before the Courts," Charlus said.

          "That's why I don't understand what they intend to do," Turais said. "It's almost as if they are after something else, and you happened to be caught in the crossfire... But then that begs the question of what is the true target?"

          "Regardless, if they have resorted to pursuing this line of charges against me, I suspect they do not intend to let up on their pursuit," Charlus said. "What do you suggest then? I am as good as being imprisoned here -"

          "I have an idea," Turais gasped suddenly. "But it is not fool-proof and would require a great deal of risk and luck."

          Charlus leaned in and said, "I'm listening."

          "What we need is a distraction," Turais said. "And a distraction that brings the attention and scrutiny back onto Wilkins."

          Charlus's eyes widened in understanding before they returned into a critical gaze. "But how do you plan to do that?"

          Turais grimaced and turned to face Charlus. He asked, "The most important question right now is... how much do you trust Harold Minchum?"

 

***

 

          As Turais made his way through the bustling and chaotic foot traffic, he noticed that everyone was talking about the recent explosive controversy that placed the Potters squarely in the centre of discussion. Trying to block out the troubling conversation, he made his way towards one of the lifts and pressed the button for the Wizengamot. When he stepped out on his destination level, he immediately darted towards the Records Room. There, he found an old lady behind the front desk counter.

          "Excuse me, madam," Turais inquired softly when he walked up to her. "I was wondering if you've seen Mr Minchum today?"

          "Harold left shortly before you arrived. Did you not see him on your way in?" she asked.

          "Thank you very much," Turais gasped out quickly as he darted back out into the hallway. He looked up and down the hallways in both directions, then chose one side and turned the corner. His eyes immediately focused on a departing figure that he was most desperate to find.

          "Mr Minchum!" Turais gasped out as the man turned around, looking completely surprised at the elated tone.

          "Mr Black?" Minchum asked. "Why are you here?"

          "Can we talk privately somewhere?" Turais asked.

          "Oh... of... of course."

          He led them to a small waiting room. Turais shut the door with a bang before starting, "I need your help to apply for a search warrant for Department Head Wilkins's residency."

          The man looked slightly taken aback. "Uh... why, might I ask?"

          Turais reiterated his claim of potential false imprisonment and domestic violence.

          "That's troubling news indeed," Minchum considered as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then, he looked at Turais with an apologetic expression as he spoke carefully, "I am truly sympathetic, Mr Black. And for the record, I do believe your every word. But this is too strong of an accusation against a prominent member of the Ministry - the Department Head of the DMLE no less. Also, you are legally a minor. Therefore, I fear that even if we plead your case, the courts will not weigh your words favourably."

          "Besides the Courts, there are only two other ways to apply for a search warrant," Minchum continued quickly. "The second way is internally through the Auror Office, but Head Auror Shafiq will block any application coming that way. The third way is through the Council of Magical Law, which requires a Wizengamot member to sponsor the application -"

          "I know all this," Turais interrupted. "But what I need is a surefire way to obtain the warrant as soon as possible. That's why I need someone well-versed in the law like you to help me find a way to obtain the search warrant and quickly."

          Minchum gave Turais a long, hard stare before asking, "Mr Black, can I ask you to be completely honest with me? Please don't misunderstand me. Domestic violence is not to be tolerated in any way, but... there must be something more to this than what you have just told me, judging by your sense of urgency..."

          "There is... something..." Turais said slowly, considering his words carefully, "Have you heard about what happened in the Auror Office -"

          "About Charlus's supposed crimes against the Head Auror?" Minchum asked. "It will be hard-pressed for you to find someone who does not know this piece of news."

          "Do you believe that Charlus would commit such a crime?"

          "That - Mr Black - is a loaded question," Minchum said pointedly, "Which tells me that you don't believe the current accusations levied against him."

          "No, I don't," Turais said bluntly. He glared at Minchum challengingly, "And do you?"

          After a long moment of silence, the man finally admitted, "No, I don't believe them. And you believe that Wilkins is the one with something to hide?"

          "Yes," Turais said firmly. He pressed down his voice and said, "Listen, I think the Head Auror is compromised, and Wilkins has something to do with it. That's why the DMLE is acting so swiftly against Charlus."

          Minchum's eyes widened in shock silently as he stared at a fixed point on the far wall, seemingly lost in deep consideration. He was thinking so hard that Turais could see the veins throbbing near his temple. 

          "That is a serious accusation," Minchum whispered worriedly as his eyes darted frantically. "The Head of DMLE mind-controlling the Head Auror and framing the Deputy Head Auror."

          "Precisely, so I need to ensure that Wilkins's schemes are put on hold by shifting the attention and scrutiny onto Wilkins. That way, I can rescue Michael and his siblings while also freezing up any plot that is being concocted up around Wilkins."

          "Two birds with one stone," Minchum hummed thoughtfully. "And you plan to do that by raiding Wilkins's house?"

          "Exactly. That's why I am approaching you for help. You are the only person who I can turn to as a sponsor for the application. But I fear it will take too long for the application to process -"

          "Wait," Minchum gasped abruptly as something shifted in his eyes. Then, he started pacing around the room, muttering to himself for a few minutes before snapping his fingers with an elated expression.

          "What is it?!" Turais asked immediately.

          The man whipped around, showing a broad grin on his face, as he asked, "Do you remember the contentious bill that greatly expanded the powers of the DMLE officials last year? The UTWATS bill that all the Lords from Dark families boycotted? The one that the late Lord Fawley broke all traditions for?"

          "Yes...?" Turais said with a bit of uncertainty. He remembered that it made a huge splash in the political realm because of Fawley's tradition-breaking usage of his tie-breaking vote. However, the contents of the bill were also notable as it greatly expanded Auror authorities, including the right to search and seize properties that were potentially dark. The Dark families were outraged by the bill, but their worst fears of excessive Auror interference ultimately did not come to fruition. That was partially due to their exaggerated victimization as a rallying cry in addition to the Auror Office being bogged down by more pressing issues.

          "I cast an absent vote on the bill in protest," Minchum sighed as he shook his head. "Because I did not believe in the way the Light families conducted themselves in Wizengamot business. But now that it is the law of the land, we can use it to our advantage!"

          "How?"

          "I can submit an application to search for Dark artifacts in his home," Minchum said. "See, that is the only condition upon which the application can be shortened to a single day."

          "He has Dark artifacts at home?" Turais asked with a frown.

          "Possibly."

          "Wait, what do you mean by 'possibly' -" Turais was momentarily confused, but then something clicked in his mind as he understood what the man implied. Minchum wanted to blindly accuse Wilkins of storing Dark artifacts as an excuse to obtain a search warrant. That was... unethical. Turais said immediately, "- We cannot do that! That's... wrong!"

          "It's not illegal," Minchum pointed out.

          "But... that's..." Turais struggled to come up with any argument besides saying it was just morally wrong to search someone's property without substantial evidence. "... no, we are not doing this."

          "I hate to say this," Minchum said as he eyed the distressed boy carefully. "But there is no one who would speak up for the Potters right now, let alone act on their behalf. There's just too much at risk and too much uncertainty surrounding the conspiracy -"

          "Charlus has been accused of crimes he did not commit," Turais huffed out in exasperation. "If we go ahead with what you have proposed, we are no different from those we are trying to fight against!"

          "But what other recourse do you have?" Minchum challenged. "Your grandfather would never allow you to involve yourself in this. Your allies? They are all equally as risk-averse. The Light families? Do you think they will entertain your request? You might be admired by them, but they are equally as wary of you. The last thing they would like to see is an emboldened Black heir, I'm afraid. The only person who would sponsor this is Fleamont, and he is currently detained three floors down from here. You have no other choice!"

          Turais raised his eyebrow at the observation, but he did not press the point. Then, Minchum softened his voice, "Turais, normally I would advise against any law-breaking activities, but your friends are in immediate danger. The Auror Office is in chaos. The Courts are not an option given your grandfather's hold on them. The Council of Magical Law is the only functional body that will respond to this request. There is simply too much at stake, and I think the benefits outweigh the costs in this particular instance."

          Turais knew that Minchum had a point. The only way to fast-track the approval process was to do as Minchum suggested.

          "I... I..." Turais hesitated as he felt as if he was faced with a dilemma with no true path forward. "I..."

          "You are right," Minchum suddenly sighed aloud as he shook his head in defeat. "This is morally ambiguous at best." He looked up at Turais. "Please don't judge me too harshly, Turais. I... I just wanted to do what's best... just pretend I never raised that option. I hope my words did not upset you."

          Guilt rushed into Turais's mind as he quickly said, "No, of course not, Mr Minchum -"

          "Please. Call me Harold," Minchum said with a tired grimace. "I think our long acquaintance merits that."

          "Of course, Harold," Turais said weakly, feeling slightly off-kilter at the sudden change in address. "But no, I'm not offended... It's just... "

          "Your sensibility and maturity are your greatest assets, Turais," Harold said softly. "They are admirable qualities..." He heaved another sigh. "...But I just cannot think of another way that would achieve your goals of saving those you wish to save or uncover the truth of the conspiracy..."

          Turais considered the words again as he felt his resolve weaken. The man was right. This was a dire situation. There was no other plausible way to achieve his goals. Lives were at risk, and there was no time for his stubborn morals to get in the way. He returned to this past to change things, not let them continue on the same path towards destruction.

          He squeezed his eyelids shut and breathed in deeply, hoping that the calming breath would provide some clarity to what he was about to decide. However, he gained no new insight or peace.

          "Wait, this would not have worked anyway," Harold's voice said. "Crouch heads the Council of Magical Law and is the Deputy Head of DMLE. He will most certainly not approve our request since we are practically asking him to turn against his immediate supervisor."

          "No, he will," Turais sighed. "This is precisely why this plan would work."

          "But Crouch has just shown us he is partial to Wilkins's orders."

          "No," Turais rebutted as he recalled everything he knew about Crouch's character. "Crouch is ambitious. He is more than willing to redraw the ethical boundaries if it means he gains influence and political power. A Department Head embroiled with charges of false imprisonment and domestic violence would be a scandal large enough to topple him, and Crouch would be in the perfect position to take over the reins of the Department. If we present the case properly, it will prove to be lucrative to him." 

          With his eyes still closed and his mind engaged in a furious battle against himself, he could feel Minchum's curious gaze on him.

         "You are using Crouch's ambition and willingness to bend the rules to help you achieve what you want. The only difference between that and what I proposed is that the blood - so to speak - is not on your hands."

          Turais knew Harold pointed out the hypocrisy of his internal conflict. The reason he wanted to apply for the search warrant through the Council of Magical Law was that he knew that Crouch would likely approve it to advance his own ambitions, therefore, quickly granting Turais access to Wilkins's House. His intent to bend the law was, in essence, no different from what Minchum proposed to do. The only difference was that the original plan would have made Crouch directly at fault and would have eased Turais's consciousness. But deep down, he knew he would have been an accomplice of the crime. But now, with Minchum's plan, he was unable to shift the blame onto someone else but himself.

          "Let's do it," Turais said resolutely as he snapped his eyes open. Harold looked at him with a questioning tilt of the head, and Turais repeated, "Let's go with your plan."

          Harold nodded curtly. "Then we must talk to Crouch."

          They left the room and started jogging towards the lifts. Halfway there, a cold, amused voice rang out throughout the column-filled floor.

          "It seems like someone is up to something," Turais and Harold turned towards the sound and saw Lucius Malfoy standing afar with Lords Travers and Avery. Then, the long-haired boy walked towards them in a taunting manner. "So... what are you two conspiring today?"  

          "Malfoy," Turais said with restraint apparent in his voice.

          "It's Lord Malfoy," Malfoy said with a malicious grin.

          "I'm glad to hear that you have learnt your new title," Turais said icily. "Unfortunately, we all know that the title does not make the person."

          That wiped the smug expression off of Malfoy’s face, which transformed into cold fury.

          "You have no idea what I am capable of," he gritted out with a sharp glare at Turais, who stepped forward and held the gaze unflinchingly.

          "Oh, I think I do," Turais said softly as he observed every facial movement on the new Lord.

          "Care to enlighten me?"

          "No," Turais said simply. "But I have one final piece of advice for you. Follow your father's example and do not join Voldemort. This decision will only lead to pain and suffering."

          Despite his outward façade of calmness, the dilation of Malfoy's pupils betrayed him.

          "How dare you advise me on anything? How dare you speculate what my father's intent was?" he hissed. "How dare you mention him when you caused his death?!"

          "I see this conversation is pointless," Turais snapped. "I have urgent business to attend to. Good day."

          With that, Turais turned his back on Malfoy and continued on his way, with Harold following closely behind him. Once the lift doors closed in front of them, Turais heard Harold ask as they sped backwards into the horizontal lift shaft. "Do you suspect the new Lord Malfoy is in league with Voldemort?"

          "If he is not, he will soon be," Turais said, still fuming about the encounter.

          "I heard Voldemort was a Slytherin -"

          "Because everyone who is evil is a Slytherin!" Turais snapped as he glared at the older man. "Is that what you are about to say?!"

          "Oh, I do not think that," Harold said, sounding unperturbed by Turais's outrage. "I was an Auror, and I saw plenty of wizards and witches walk through those holding cells. Trust me when I say that place is not exclusive to Slytherins."

          "I... I'm sorry for the outburst, Harold," Turais said quickly, feeling quite embarrassed to have made a fool of himself.

          "It's been a stressful day," Harold simply said as he flashed Turais a comforting smile. They zig-zagged the rest of the way to the DMLE in silence. Harold, who seemed to be on friendly terms with everyone he met, quickly led him through the busy office filled with flying memos and quills towards Crouch's office. After a rap on the door, they heard a quick "Come in."

          They opened the door and seemingly stepped into a small room inspired by the Victorian era. On the left wall was a dark walnut bookcase filled with bibliographies and philosophical books by various politicians, generals, and famous entrepreneurs. On the right wall was a small, Aegean limestone fireplace with a mantle that housed two antique clocks. The heavy, grey velvet curtains were drawn shut on the atmospheric-charmed windows, and the room was dimly lit only from the weak glows of a flickering flame.  

          "Bartemius," Harold greeted as the duo sat down in one of two black, leather armchairs across the large, imposing oak desk that only contained stacks upon stacks of folders, scrolls, and parchments. The only personal item Turais saw was a picture frame. However, it was placed with the display facing down against the desk surface.

          "Harold," Crouch said without sparing a glance as he continued to write on the parchment in front of him. "What matter do you wish to discuss so urgently?"

          "I am seeking a search warrant -"

          "You can go through the proper application process -"

          "- For Ambrose Wilkins's home."

          Turais watched the quill in Crouch's hand stop abruptly as the constant scratching noise turned into a loaded silence. Then, his glance travelled towards Turais and his eyes widened by a fraction before searching Harold's face once again.

          "You wish to apply for a search warrant against the Head of DMLE," Crouch repeated with his usual stern voice, but Turais could detect a hint of incredulity in his tone.

          "Yes," Turais said. He saw the moment when Crouch realized this was a serious inquiry as a slight panic rippled across his face before it returned to a blank slate.

          "What evidence do you have?" He asked. Turais was halfway through reiterating what he saw through the Floo-call when Crouch raised a hand and signaled for Turais to stop, "That's not enough."

          "How about a claim that there are Dark artifacts stored in his house?" Harold asked immediately.

          Crouch shot Harold a hard look before barking out, "Unless you have concrete evidence, there is no chance that I will be signing any search warrant against my immediate supervisor and -"

          "I would suggest that you consider this proposition carefully, Mr Crouch," Turais said calmly as he watched Crouch's surprised expression at being interrupted by him. "What evidence do you have that enables you to charge the Deputy Head Auror with inciting insurrection and sedition? Only the Head Auror's words."

          "I only have your words to back up your claims as well," Crouch said, evidently considering Turais's claim.

          Turais stood up and leaned forward across the oak desk towards the stern man fearlessly, "You and I both know that there is no case to be made against Charlus Potter on the charges of sedition and insurrection. On the contrary, I am now offering you a second chance to right your wrongs... A different explanation of the case where the Head Auror is mind-controlled by the Department Head of DMLE, who also happened to have committed false imprisonment and domestic abuse against his children that was witnessed by none other than the Black heir.

          "Weigh the balance of probabilities carefully," Turais said softly. "If you place your lot with the Head Auror's side, imagine what would happen when it turns out that he was indeed compromised and that you acted on orders that were meritless, to begin with. Imagine the disgrace, the damage that would be inflicted upon your illustrious career. If you place your lot with our side, you could potentially find evidence that would topple the Department Head from his office. Even if nothing comes of it, you can claim that you are merely investigating all credible charges without discrimination. Others would likely scold you for being frivolous, but no one would fault you for being impartial and not picking sides...

          "However, if you are to turn down our application and it turns out that the Head Auror is compromised, rest assured that I will not remain silent about your rejection today," Turais said as he stood up fully. "The choice is yours, Mr Crouch. You can reject our application and risk losing everything with nothing to gain. Or, you can accept the application while risking relatively little and potentially gaining a serendipitous promotion that leads you to the coveted position that is the Minister for Magic."

          Crouch stayed silent for a long while as his eyes quivered left and right slightly throughout in deep consideration. Turais could feel his heart pounding heavily in his body as if it was trying to escape his chest. This was a high-stakes bet that he was making, and he was not sure if he made a strong enough case to convince the man before him. He swallowed heavily as he felt the contents of his stomach mix and churn while threatening to make an unpleasant appearance in the form of a projectile.

          Finally, the Deputy Head opened his mouth and uttered the words, "The search warrant will be ready tomorrow morning."

          Turais wanted to pump his fist in the air, but he was able to limit his reaction to a curt nod.

          "I have a request on that front," Turais said.

          "What is it?" Crouch gritted out.

          "I want to be present at the raid."

          "That's against -"

          "Don't tell me it is against the rules, policies, or something else. We both know you broke many of them today and countless more before you reached where you are now."

          "Fine!" Crouch grunted out.

          "Good," Turais smiled as he extended his hand for a handshake. "I am glad that we have come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, Mr Crouch."

          Crouch eyed Turais's hand. With his lips pressed together tightly and his jaw muscles clenching, he took the hand and shook it once.

          "I hope you do remember to return the favour later, future Department Head of DMLE," Turais said.

          He turned around and walked out of the office with Harold as Crouch watched out with grudging recognition of the teenager.

          Turais held himself together up until the moment that the lift turned the corner and the floor was out of sight.

          "Oh, Merlin, save me," Turais gasped as he held himself up against the rattling lift wall. His legs felt like jelly, and he wanted to throw up in his mouth. "That was terrifying."

          "I think you conducted yourself fairly well," Harold said with a hint of mirth in his voice as he leaned against the other wall. "I didn't even get a word in beyond the pleasantries."

          "If you define accusing the Department Head of DMLE of possessing Dark artifacts as pleasantry, then you would be correct," Turais joked weakly as he tried to process what had just transpired.

          Harold looked at Turais with an odd mix of admiration and pride before he dipped his chin and chuckled. 

          "What?" Turais asked, slightly confused. "What are you laughing about?"

          "You are something else, Turais Black," Harold said before another round of chuckle. "You really are something else."

          "I hope this is a compliment."

          "Maybe," Harold said mysteriously with a shrug of his shoulders.

          Turais scowled playfully, but then he remembered something, "Harold, back in the room at the Wizengamot, you said something about the Light families admired me as much as they are wary of me. What do you mean?"

          "I mean that they wish to see you successful insofar that you are not wielding more influence than what you already should have as a prominent member of the Black family, and eventually, as Lord Black."

          "But why?" Turais frowned. "I would think that everything I've done so far benefited them the most."

          "Perhaps that is true, but you are... and always will be the Heir of the House of Black," Minchum said. "You will always be a potential obstruction."

          "But that is utterly ridiculous. I always thought they were more reasonable than the Dark families."

          "The regular layperson, maybe, but definitely not the politicians. Whoever says that the Light families are better than the Dark families either does not understand how the world works, is an idiot, or is lying to themselves," Minchum said when he suddenly realized he had possibly offended the teenager before him. "I... I didn't mean to suggest that you are..."

          "No offense taken, Harold," Turais laughed. "Your frankness is a breath of fresh air, and it is not incorrect to say that I am still quite naïve when it comes to politics."

          "Your honesty is much appreciated as well, Turais," Harold said. "But if I am to speculate, I think that the biggest fear of Light families is the memories of one person in particular."

          "What is it?"

          "Your great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black."

          "Why is that?" Turais asked. 

          "I'm sure you are well aware of how powerful he was a century ago," Minchum said. "He single-handedly moulded the British Wizarding World and politics into its contemporary form. As headmaster, regardless of his popularity, he was able to influence a generation of wizards and witches. His impact on the world can still be felt to this day. However, most Light families considered his impact to be a regression - a devolution, if you will - that is only beginning to become undone under Dumbledore's stewardship."

          Harold turned to Turais and said with a hint of sorrow, "I'm afraid that a powerful Black heir is the last thing they would like to see. No matter how friendly you are to them or how aligned your views are with them. You will never be one of them, and they will always want one of their own to be the ones that change the world for the better."

Notes:

This was one of the most difficult chapters for me to write yet. It was very technical, action-packed, and nothing like I have previously done... ever. Even the tone and the pacing was very different from how I usually write.

I just hope I did it justice...

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-04-06

Chapter 55: The Queen’s Gambit (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I hope you enjoy the new update!

- ravenclawblues 2021-04-21

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

THE QUEEN'S GAMBIT


 

July 18, 1972 (Tuesday)

 


AUROR CIVIL WAR CONTINUES

by Andy Smudgley

Potentially Dangerous Criminal on the Loose


It has been less than 24 hours since Head Auror Shafiq has announced an illegal insurrection led by Deputy Head Auror Charlus Potter that led to the sacking of the Ministry Head Offices and theft of many classified documents. However, many details of what occurred that day remain unknown, and the Head Auror has been noticeably silent on the matter concerning the second-highest-ranking officer in the office.

According to sources close to the Head Auror office, a group of Aurors led by Potter infiltrated the Auror Offices in the wee hours of the morning yesterday. The Head Auror was notified of their presence and ordered for their arrest. However, Potter managed to escape their capture and continues to run loose in the Wizarding community. Upon receiving the request for assistance from the Head Auror, the Head of DMLE approved a raid on the Potter Manor owned by Lord Fleamont Potter.

"The Auror Office has lost my support," Ms Knightley, 69, said as she reacted to the news. "They have not been doing the job that they have been tasked to do. The Black child - what is his name? - Right, Turais Black. He and the nice fellow... Minchum, is it? - They did more to solve the Ministry murders than the entire Ministry combined. And they are not even Aurors!"

"Maybe we should just let the Black child take over the department," Mr Platt, 45, spoke of the Aurors in an equally negative light. "I don't think he could fare any worse even if he tried." When asked how he would rank the performance of the Auror Office, he immediately replied, "Troll. Double Troll if they had that grading. The only thing they could do worse is if the Head Auror was actually a Polyjuiced Voldemort. What a thought!"

 

***

          "You're the Heir of the House of Black. You will never be one of them."

          This sentence echoed in Turais’s mind perpetually as he made his way back to 12 Grimmauld Place.

          He knew well how jaded Sirius became after being sent to Azkaban for crimes he never committed and were never tried for. However, now that he was facing a similar predicament, he was starting to realize just how ill-prepared he was against the same forces that smothered the spirit out of his former godfather.

          The Heir of the House of Black.

          It was a blessing in the eyes of many, especially those who conformed or were not repulsed by a pureblood-led society. But for someone like Turais, the title was an albatross around his neck that chained him to a legacy that he wanted no part of.

          When he became Sirius’s older brother, he thought he could easily take on whatever adversity Sirius faced on his behalf, but he was clearly too naïve. At the thought, Turais shuddered involuntarily at how terrified a teenage Sirius must have been when Turais - an adult - felt suffocated by all this.

          He was unable to ruminate on this as the moment he appeared through the Floo, Orion seized him by the arm and dragged him to the study.

          "Where have you been?!" Orion growled out angrily the moment the door was slammed shut.

          "The DMLE."

          "What?!" Orion's eyes bulged in shock. "Why?"

          "I needed to obtain the search warrant for Wilkins's House."

          "The Wilkinses? But why?!"

          "Because they are the primary suspects in this conspiracy. I need to place Wilkins under scrutiny if I am to uncover the truth!"

          "Hold on a moment, Turais," Orion said, his moustache quivering slightly as he shook in frustration. "Have you ever considered that maybe... just maybe... Charlus is the one at fault here?"

          "That's impossible!" Turais scoffed at the absurd idea.

          "Please explain to me why you trust the Potters so much!" Orion growled lowly. "You don't know anything about them or who they truly are. Yet somehow, you just believe every word that man utters! He could be lying to you this entire time for all we know!"

          "I don't have a good explanation for this, father," Turais wrung his arms helplessly. He trusted them because they were his family from a different lifetime. He knew that they were upright citizens and patriots. He also understood that Orion had no reason to trust them without the insight that Turais had. "It's an instinct... and intuition -"

          There was a sudden knock on the door that interrupted their conversation. Orion's vulnerable state quickly transformed into his usual, masked expression of disinterest before he swung the door open to none other than Charlus. Orion glared at Charlus icily while the other man returned a similar sentiment.

          Turais knew that Orion was still holding onto a grudge against Charlus for what happened at Potter Cottage. And in his defense, the Auror had yet to apologize for pointing his wand at an innocent, wandless child. To say the tension was palpable between the two men was an understatement.

          Charlus ripped his gaze from the outwardly antagonistic Orion back onto Turais.

          "How was your trip to find Harold?"

          "You knew that my son was going to the Ministry?!" Orion roared furiously as he grabbed Charlus's shoulder roughly and turned him towards him.

          "You would only obstruct what we were planning," Charlus said coolly. He grabbed Orion's offending hand by the wrist and flung it away.

          "You willingly sent my underage, unarmed son into harm's way!" Orion said. "How dare you?!"

          "Your son offered to go," Charlus retorted. "He came up with the plan. I did not command him to do anything. Besides, he was the only person who could plausibly help solve the mystery. It was unlikely that you would provide a similar level of assistance. That's why we hid our plans from you to begin with."

          Orion's rage-filled eyes flitted towards Turais for a brief moment before focusing back on the man.

          "You're an adult. Deputy Head Auror, no less. Do you have no shame? Nothing about involving an underaged child in a dangerous plan to save your skin screams justice," Orion spat. Then, his eyes narrowed into a taunting sneer, and he jabbed a finger close to Charlus's face. "Also, weren't you the person who was almighty and self-righteous when you said that you did not trust him the slightest bit? If you are so suspicious of us, why are you entrusting him with anything?!"

          Charlus ignored the question and gestured at Turais.

          "Your son knows things that no one has any business of knowing. As a Black, you understand very well how Warding works. There is no way he could have known where I was when the Masking Spell was cast over Potter Cottage."

          "Perhaps..." Orion faltered for a split moment, but he immediately returned to an offensive stance. "Perhaps there is something wrong with your Warding. As you mentioned, Warding is a specialty of ours, not yours."

          "I will be telling Fleamont to undergo a thorough check of all the Wards at the Manor after we have weathered this crisis. But you must recognize that this is unlikely the explanation to Turais's knowledge," Charlus said. "There is something strange about your son beyond his precociousness, and I think you recognize that deep inside as well. You are merely letting your emotions blind you."

          "I trust my son with my life!" Orion spat. "And I will not be lectured by someone who has proven faulty judgment on other's characters."

          "From his proximity to the murders at the Wizengamot to this. There must be an explanation -"

          "You focus on the minute details, yet you fail to see the bigger picture! My son saved you and your son from burning into a crisp at Hogsmeade. My son has placed himself and his entire family at risk to save yours. Fleamont escaped prosecution with mere charges of a misdemeanour, and you are still here spouting nonsense because he brought it upon himself to help you escape! His actions have brought immediate dividends to your family, yet all he has received from you is suspicion upon suspicion!"

          For once, Charlus had nothing to say in return. However, they continued to glare at each other distrustfully.

          "Both of you! Stop this nonsense!" Turais shouted as both men focused on him.

          Charlus continued to scrutinize Turais as if he was trying to solve an enigma. However, Turais knew that he had no better explanation to offer. No one would ever be able to fathom the scenario in which a descendant of the Potter family returned to the past in the form of Turais Black. But finally, the Deputy Head Auror declared, "This is not over. I will get to the bottom of this."

          "So, if you are done interrogating me for now," Turais said firmly. "I would like to tell you that Harold and I successfully convinced Crouch to approve an emergency search warrant for Wilkins's home."

          "That's good," Charlus said, his expression turning thoughtful and in sharp focus. "I hope all the missing pieces will be uncovered there."

          "If that is all, please return to the guest room and rest," Orion snapped. "Turais and I would like to continue the discussion we had before you rudely interrupted."

          Charlus glanced between the two Blacks with distrust before walking out of the door and shutting it with a bang. Orion continued to glare at the door for a moment longer before pulling out a chair and slumped into it tiredly. He closed his eyes, reached his hand up to his temple and rubbed the location slowly as the room descended into a stilted silence.

          The silence was effective, as Turais spoke up after a minute of stifling awkwardness.

          "If you don't trust me, father, then there is nothing I say that will ever convince you," Turais whispered helplessly. "So I suppose the only question that matters is... do you trust me?"

          Orion's motions paused.

          "You heard what I said to... that man. You're my son... my precious boy..." Orion said with his eyes still closed. "Of course I trust you! But I don't understand any of this... why you are doing any of this... I don't know what to think... what to do... there are too many coincidences... too much -"

          Orion stopped as he took several ragged breaths to calm himself down.

          "I feel like you are running off to someplace where I cannot follow - someplace where I cannot keep us safe," Orion breathed out. Then, he slowly opened his eyes and gazed at his opened palms. "I don't want to lose you."

          Orion looked up at his son, and Turais could see the man was on the verge of tears as confusion and frustration coursed their ways through his mind and soul.

          "You've always been the brighter one between the two of us, Turais. Tell me what I should do."

          Turais walked up to Orion and held the larger hand inside his two.

          "I'm not a good son, father," Turais said as he focused his eyes on Orion's soft, un-calloused hands. "I'm sorry."

          "And I'm not a good father," Orion said.

          "I'm sorry," Turais said.

          Orion's voice sighed in resignation.

          "No, you're not."

          It was not a scolding but merely a tired acceptance.

          "For what it's worth, I truly am," Turais said. "But I also know that this will not be the last time we have this conversation."

          They stood there, quietly feeling each other's warmth through the contact of their hands. Then, Orion huffed out something akin to pained amusement.

          "Children these days," Orion commented with a shake of the head. "They just admit to their faults and tell you they will do it again!"

          Turais twisted his lips into a weak grimace.

 

***

 

          Turais dragged his body to his room and closed the door. He finally released the tight smile that was on his face and collapsed onto his bed. Breathing rhythmically, he felt the rise and fall of his chest as he felt the tension in his body slowly unwound. However, everything snapped back into its stressed state the moment he heard a gentle knock on his door.

          "Turais," Dorea's muffled voice called out softly. "May I come in for a quick chat?"

          "Just a moment."

          Biting down a tired groan, Turais sat up and walked to the door. Opening it, he saw Dorea looking at him with a kind, warm smile. Waving his arm, he gestured at the empty chair opposite his bed.

          "Excuse me for disrupting your rest, Turais," Dorea said after sitting down. "I know you had a busy day."

          Turais wanted to say it was no bother, but Charlus's comments a mere half an hour ago made it difficult for him to feel anything but saddened and slightly annoyed. Therefore, he opted for a slight nod and tight smile that might have leaned closer to a grimace.

          Dorea noticed the change, being much more perspective than her husband, as her eyes turned apologetic.

          "Your father and I had a frank conservation," she said slowly as she eyed the boy carefully.  "I don't claim to understand how you managed to accomplish all the feats that you have today, but you have done us - and the entire Potter family - an enormous favour. The results are indisputable."

          Turais stayed silent as Dorea continued, "My husband... he's a Potter through and through. He will speak his mind, even if he is offending the only person in the world that will lend him a helping hand."

          Turais muttered, "That's one way to put it."

          "Turais," Dorea took Turais's hand and patted it soothingly, "Charlus might be suspicious due to the nature of his work, and also with everything that is happening around him right now, but please believe me when I say he thinks highly of you -"

          Turais could not suppress a snort on that comment. Despite his best efforts, the bitterness in his voice leaked into his following words.

          "Well, he sure has a funny way of showing it."

          Dorea fell silent for a moment before starting again, "You must admit that... what you have done today... was nothing short of incredible for anyone... let alone a thirteen-year-old. Also, there are instances... that cannot be simply explained away by either your raw magical prowess or your brilliant mind... I'm sure you understand what I am trying to illustrate."

          "That Charlus thinks I am the common thread between all that has happened?" Turais asked harshly. "Because of what? That I'm the Heir of a powerful Dark family? That no one would have batted an eyelash if I was a Potter instead?!"

          By the end of it, Turais was filled with so much frustration that he was standing over Dorea with his hands curled into tight fists and his entire body taut with tension. Then, the rational side of him regained control as he breathed out profoundly and quietened his roaring mind.

          "Please excuse me, Dorea," Turais said as he sat back onto his bed. His eyes were glaring at the wooden boards resolutely. "It has been a stressful day. Perhaps, we can continue this conversation on a later date?"

          Dorea nodded silently as she stood up to leave. But before she left, she turned around and said, "For what it is worth, Charlus does not hold any prejudice against you because you are a Black."

          Despite all the negative emotions he felt against the man right this instant, he recognized that as the truth. In true Potter fashion, the man was stubborn and unapologetic about his suspicion. And it reminded Turais very much of himself.

          The door clicked shut as Turais gasped out the breath he was holding. He raised his fist and punched the soft duvet pillow multiple times. All the while, he just wanted to scream out his innermost secret to the rest of the world.

          "I'm just trying to do the right thing..." Turais muttered into the empty room as he valiantly suppressed the oscillating waves of sadness and frustration that coursed through his body.

          There was a sudden tell-tale rumbling outside. However, the door swung open with a bang before Turais could rearrange his facial expression.

          "Heya, Turais! Great-aunt just told me you were back -" Sirius shouted as he bounced into Turais's room. However, a single glance at Turais's crumpled expression prompted Sirius's cheery expression to twist into a concerned frown. Adopting a frightful tone, he asked, "What's wrong, Turais?"

          "Nothing," Turais sat up and said with a twist of lips that did not convince anyone. Sirius jumped onto the bed next to him, his eyes glued onto Turais's face. "It has been a long day, that's all."

          "Where were you?"

          Turais stared into the large, sparkling grey eyes that were still untouched by any sorrow or anger.

          "I was at the Ministry doing some business."

          "Does it have anything to do with the Potters being here?"

          Children were too perceptive for their own good, sometimes.

          "Yes," Turais said carefully as he ruffled Sirius's hair, hoping that familiar gesture could bring some peace to his tormented mind. "But it's nothing you should be worried about, Siri."

          "I'm old enough for it," Sirius puffed up his chest and said bravely.

          "I'm sure you are," Turais chuckled weakly. "But I don't want you to be involved, Siri. All you need to think about is training for the Quidditch trials this September."

          "Are you sure?" Sirius tilted his head adorably.

          "Of course!" Turais nodded his head in affirmation. Just then, Regulus walked in with a letter in hand.

          "Turais, there's a letter for you."

          "Thank you, Reggie," Turais said and took the envelope. It was a note from Crouch.

          He unsealed it quickly and saw only one line.

Tomorrow. 7 a.m. sharp. South end of Watling's Cross.

          "What is it?" Sirius asked as he tried to steal a peek, but Turais quickly crumpled the note into a ball.

          "Nothing that the two of you should worry about," Turais said firmly. "I will handle it. Now, come give me a big hug before you both head to bed."

          He extended his arms and beckoned his two brothers forward to give them a big hug. Taking in their scents and warmth, Turais steeled his resolve.

          ' This is worth it.'

          It had to be.

 

***

 

          The gloomy, cold fog - a 'London particular,' as Dickens famously coined the term - engulfed the location and turned all the assembled Aurors into dark figures lurking beneath the shadow of the row of brick houses they stood by.

          "Mr Crouch," Turais greeted as he Apparated onto the site with Orion by his side.

          "Mr Black," Crouch nodded at the both of them in acknowledgment. He clasped his black, leather-gloved hands together nervously and glanced around them as if he was expecting someone's arrival.

          "Are we waiting for someone?" Orion asked.

          "Yes -"

          There was a small pop as a dot in the far distance swirled and warped until a figure of a man appeared with his feet landing on the pavement deftly. Then, he approached them without breaking pace.

          "Harold?" Turais asked when the man was finally close enough for Turais to recognize him.

          "Turais," Harold nodded with a small smile.

          "Why are you here?"

          "I am the sponsor of the search warrant. Therefore, I have the right to be present during the search," Harold revealed as he turned to Crouch, who nodded silently. The Deputy Head raised his arm and gestured at the street before them.

          "Shall we?" Crouch asked before they traveled down the fog-filled street lined with lamps that weakly illuminated its surroundings. "Now, my men will secure the premise before any of you -" Crouch gestured at Orion, Turais, and Harold, "- will be permitted to enter. Once inside, you may not touch anything or disturb any of the items, for they can all be potential evidence. Also, you must be accompanied by one of my men at all times, no exceptions. Am I clear?"

          "Very," Harold responded.

          "Now, Mr Black senior, I would have to ask you to remain outside for the entire time," Crouch added firmly while looking at Turais pointedly. "I have bent the rules quite enough already."

          "Understood," Orion said. Turais had an inkling that Orion did not mind the verdict anyhow.

          "And, our raid today is quite... unconventional," Crouch said with a bit of hesitation. "I will have to demand that all three of you keep silent until we report the results of this raid to the Ministry officially later this afternoon."

          "Of course."

          "Very well," Crouch breathed out heavily as they stopped a few feet away from one particular house among many that lined the street. He turned back to his subordinates and waved his hand. Understanding the gesture, they streamed towards their destination while the quartet stayed put.

          Two of the officers started performing spells that created perimetre of standard wards, such as the anti-Apparition and Muggle-Repellant wards, that both prevented the escape of those inside the perimetre and shielded their activities from stray eyes.

          Once the wards settled, Turais watched as the rest of the officers opened the gate and strolled up the steps to the front door with their wands ready. They pounded on the door loudly and continuously.

          "This is the DMLE. Please open up!"

          They shouted the phrase intermittently until a full minute had passed. Then, the leading person pointed her wand at the door and blasted it open.

          The officers streamed into the house, and Turais instinctively followed behind them, ignoring the warning shouts from Crouch. Passing the threshold, he found himself looking down the corridor with stairs that led upstairs. To his left was the lifeless living room, and he could see the fireplace where he made his Floo-call into the house. The entire living space was notably void of any possessions or valuables, with only the dark shadows imprinted on the wall to serve as evidence that they ever existed.

          But before his eyes darted elsewhere, an object caught his eye. It was an antique, metal trunk with beautiful, intricate patterns that sat against the wall and directly across from the fireplace.

          Quick footsteps approached him from behind, but Turais continued to stare at the object that sat strangely out-of-place from the rest of the room's barren and Puritanic décor. That object was not there the last time Turais saw the room.

          A hand seized him painfully on the shoulder as he was forcefully spun around to face an enraged Crouch. Harold also entered with confusion written on his face.

          "You!" Crouch hissed. "I warned you not to enter the house before my officers clear it!"

          "The chest -" Turais said as he pointed at the object, ignoring Crouch's complaint. "- it was not there when I Floo-called last time."

          "My officers will -"

          "That's odd," Harold interrupted as he walked towards the chest. "Why is this here?"

          Turais whipped around and looked at Harold questioningly. "What do you mean? How did you know about the chest?"

          Harold frowned at the accusatory tone. "The Wilkinses owed so much debt that even the house itself was foreclosed up until last month. I doubt you can find a single thing here that is worth more than twenty Galleons. If they had an antique chest like this one, it would have been sold months ago. The mere existence of this trunk is cause for concern," he explained. "Was that not what you had in mind, Turais?"

          "You're... you're right," Turais said distractedly. He turned and looked at one of the officers and demanded, "Can you open it?"

          The man glowered at the idea of being ordered around by a teenager. He looked towards Crouch, expecting the man to agree with the sentiment, but Crouch gave a curt nod instead. With a scowl, he walked over to the trunk and opened it with a flick of his wand. Turais realized that he was staring into a storage space that was deeper than the physical dimensions of the box. Inside, it was filled with tall stacks of books and nothing suspicious.

          "It's a trunk bewitched with an Extension charm," the man grunted as he slammed the trunk lid back shut. "Nothing out of place."

          "Did you bribe your way into this job?! You did not even do the standard Detection charms for the presence of Dark, house, and familial magic!" Turais heard Harold scold as he noticed that the impact caused the keyhole on the trunk to rotate slightly and reveal a second keyhole.

          "I don't take orders from you or the boy," the officer returned icily.

          "This boy is Master Turais Black -"

          "Harold," Turais whispered as he waved the man over nervously. There was a sense of déjà vu as he pointed at the rotating keyhole pad and said, "I think this trunk has multiple compartments."

          Crouch yelled irritably at the disgruntled man, clearly embarrassed by the incompetency displayed by the man, "You heard him! There's another compartment to the trunk. Open it!"

          The officer stared daggers into both males before flicking his wand at the trunk again. When it opened again, it contained an assortment of clothes, much to the officer's humiliation.

          "It's just all the odds and sods," the man said, averting his gaze as he slammed the trunk shut again.

          "There's more," Turais murmured as he waited in trepidation.

          The third time revealed an assortment of stationeries, and the fourth time showed racks filled with vials containing various vials of potions. On the fifth time, Turais found himself looking down in a seemingly empty chamber. Several feet down at the bottom of the chest, however, Turais noticed something moving, and he gasped aloud.

          It was Michael.

          "Someone rescue him right now!" Turais yelled as they got pushed back to the front door as the group of officers and Healers lifted the boy out of his confinement.

          "Michael," Turais rushed to his friend's side, who looked like he was in some sort of delirious state.

          "Tu... Turais?" Michael whispered before coughing a couple of times.

          "Yes, it's me," Turais chuckled with relief. "I'm here to rescue you."

          However, the boy had drifted back out of consciousness as he was lifted out of the house by the Healers standing by. A second later, the woman who led the charge into the house hurried down the stairs. There was a grim expression on her face that gave Turais an odd sense of foreboding.

          "Mr Crouch," she said urgently as she walked up to her superior.

          "What is it, Leta?"

          She leaned close to Crouch's ear and whispered something quickly. Crouch's eyes widened as he looked out to the spot where Michael was Disapparating to St. Mungo's. They continued to a series of quick, hushed exchanges before Leta handed over the parchment in a clear bag. On the back of the note, Turais noticed a large, looping “S” that looked like a serpent drawn across the length of the parchment. Crouch's eyes flew across the page, and his expression turned grim.

          "What is it?" Turais’s eyes lingered on the alphabet as he asked Crouch.

          Clearing his throat, he said, "Mr Wilkins and his wife... are dead."

          "What?!" Turais gasped in surprise. "How? Where?"

          "Their bodies are in the study on the second floor," Leta said. "Mrs Wilkins was on the floor by the door while Mr Wilkins sat in his chair slumped over his desk."

          "Cause of death?" Turais asked as his mind spun.

          "The Killing Curse."

          "Were they murdered?" Harold asked.

          "Both curses were cast by Mr Wilkins's wand, which was found in his hand. They have determined that the Killing Curse on his wife was about half an hour earlier than the one on himself," Leta said. "There was also a confession letter on his desk. We have reason to believe he... he killed his wife, wrote the letter, and committed suicide."

          "Is that the letter Wilkins wrote?" Turais asked as he pointed at the item in her hand. "Can I take a look?"

          Leta's eyes darted to Crouch briefly, searching for permission, before she handed it to the boy who eagerly took the evidence.

          "'... in league with Voldemort... controlled the Head Auror using potions... Shafiq's love for tea... Potter realizing something was amiss... too dangerous to be left alive... and I wanted to exact revenge against his family for corrupting my son with their perverted, sinful behaviours... the guilt was too much to bear... decided to end my life under my own terms...'" Turais muttered as he read the letter with increasing disbelief. He looked up from the letter, wholly shaken, as he asked, "Did you run a check on this?"

          "It is authentic. Mr Wilkins penned this himself."

          "Was he Imperius-ed? Potioned?"

          "There is no evidence to suggest that Mr Wilkins did not possess full mental capacity."

          "Any signs of break and entry?"

          "What are you implying?" Leta asked with a hint of impatience.

          Turais struggled to say what was bothering him when another officer ran up to them and said, "We have searched the entire house and found both daughters in their rooms. They appeared to be conscious but unresponsive. We have reason to believe they are Potioned."

          "By what?" Turais asked.

          "We are not sure, but the diagnostics showed that they have likely been fed a strange blend of potions that contained -" the officer looked down at his notes, " - Amortentia... and uh... Befuddlement Draught -"

          "- Gregory's Unctuous Unction and the Draught of Peace?" Harold inquired.

          "Well... yes!" the man exclaimed as he looked up from his notes in surprise. "How did you...?"

          Harold peered into the trunk and magicked several vials into view for them to see. Turais immediately noticed the bottles labeled with Gregory's Unctuous Unction, Amortentia, Befuddlement Draught, and the Draught of Peace. All the components needed for the blended Potion fed to the Head Auror were present in the trunk.

          Before Turais could begin to process what he just saw, he noticed that Crouch was making his way to the study. Turais deftly dodged the Leta's restraining hands and followed Crouch up to the second floor, but he was ultimately still barred from entry into the study. However, the quick glimpse of the undisturbed, organized room told Turais that there was no signs of struggle. Coupled with the fact that the Imperius was not used...

          "We must find Head Auror Shafiq immediately," Crouch said, his face turning even paler as his eyes darted around frantically. He clearly understood the enormity of the case and implications its fallout contained. "He might have been mind-controlled by Wilkins this entire time.”

          He sprinted down the stairs and out of the house. When Turais tried to follow this time, he was deftly blocked by Leta.

          "Mr Black, you must follow us to the Ministry for protection -"

          "I don't need protection," Turais hissed angrily as he watched helplessly as Crouch Disapparated with a team of officers before his eyes.

          "- and to record a statement," she continued. "You are a witness to the case now -"

          "I want to take a look at the evidence -"

          "That will not be possible!"

          "But -"

          "Turais," Harold placed a restraining hand on Turais's shoulder and said gently. "We cannot afford to make a scene, and we have no authority here."

          With another bark of order, Turais found himself whisked away into the emergency department with two officers by his side. Turais was now sitting alone near the interviewing rooms waiting for Orion to finish recording his statement. All the while, he tried to organize his thoughts and reconcile his working theories with what he just witnessed this morning.

          Every piece of evidence that he encountered pointed unequivocally towards Head Wilkins as the culprit. However, the sheer amount of direct evidence and lack of ambiguity in the case was comparable to neon signs lit in the night skies with "Wilkins is the culprit" written on all of them as stadium speakers yelled out the exact same phrase into his ears. Yet somehow, it just made the case ever more suspicious... It was as if Wilkins was being framed.

          At the troubling thought, a shiver travelled down Turais's spine.

          "... and a confession letter?! This must be one of the most straightforward cases I have ever seen!" A woman, likely the secretary of the office, gasped audibly from afar. Looking towards that direction, he saw that the workers at the bureau were huddled together discussing the case as if it was the latest gossip.

          "I have a question, though. How did the Head Auror get mind-controlled so easily?"

          "Probably because he didn't expect the Head of DMLE to gift him tea leaves spiked with mind-controlling potions?"

          "To be fair, none of us expected that."

          "That's true. But the Aurors' credibility will be completely decimated after the news breaks. And to think about how they always strutted around like they were the saviours of the world and better than everyone else... how far they have fallen..."

          "They've been falling for quite some time... Incompetency everywhere you look..."

          "Head Wilkins took the cowardly way out as well. I wished he could rot in Azkaban forever for what he did."

          "What did you expect?" Turais recognized the voice as the man who utterly failed at his job and failed to notice the peculiarity of the bewitched trunk. "Those Dark families are all rotten in the core. I don't even know why they chose him to lead the department in the first place."

          "Hush, be careful," a woman's voice scolded quietly. "The Blacks are here. If they overhear you, you are in for trouble."

          "I will walk over and say it to their faces," the man returned, unbothered. "But I don't think they're worth my time."

          Turais wanted to stomp over there and hex every single one who spoke ill of his family, but he elected to tune them out instead. The last thing he needed was to create a scene when tensions were already running high in this part of the Ministry.

          He returned to his thoughts and ruminated.

          It did not seem to be the works of the Death Eaters. They treated each murder as an opportunity to terrorize the population further and relished in toying with their victims through torture. However, there were no signs of distress on the corpses of the Wilkinses, nor signs of destruction in their homes. Furthermore, once they targeted someone, they went after their entire family. The fact that Michael and his sisters were still alive suggested that something was amiss. If it was indeed the Death Eaters, it would be a marked departure from their known tactics.

          But was it only because the Death Eaters had yet to develop such methods of terrorization? Or that they were delayed from reaching the height of their power? Or that they were still trying to secretly infiltrate the Ministry in some convoluted way that Turais could not comprehend?

          "- Flamel was spotted near Chingford -"

          The name Flamel tore Turais from his thoughts once more.

          "That's in the same area as Watling's Cross!"

          "This day is shaping up to be stranger and stranger, and we are not even past mid-day -"

          Distracted by his eavesdropping, Turais suddenly noticed that a paper cup with steaming hot tea was hoisted right under his nose. He looked beside him and saw Harold sitting down as he sipped on the second cup in his left hand. He commented, "Seemed like you could use a cup of tea."

          "Thank you," Turais gave a tight smile as he took the cup.

          After a moment of silence, Harold revealed, "I heard from my ex-colleagues that your friend is safe," Harold said. "So are the girls. They believe there will not be any lasting damages."

          "That's fortunate." Turais said as his heart finally started to calm a little.

          They sat in silence as Turais stared into the gentle wisps of mist from the untouched tea swirled and danced before him. 

          "Can I... Can I tell you something, Harold?" Turais edged out quietly.

          "Of course!" Harold said with an encouraging nod. "How can I help?"

          "I... I don't know... it's just a feeling," Turais preempted. "But... but there is something strange about this case. I know it makes no sense... and I know I have been quite adamant that Wilkins was somehow implicated, but I... I just don't believe this is true anymore... or that there is something more than what meets the eye, at least... especially not after my visit to Wilkinses residency." Turais looked up at Harold's confused expression before sighing, "You must think I am going mad..."

           Harold fell silent for a while. Then, he pressed down his voice and said, "I... I agree with you. I believe that there is something that runs deeper than what meets the eyes. But it is only a hunch, and nothing more."

          "You do?"

          Harold nodded in confirmation. "I know not many are convinced by this - perhaps because the truth is too difficult to confront - but I think that the recent events are related." Turais nodded hopefully. "I also think that the Knights and Voldemort are behind all this, somehow."

          Turais's enthusiasm dampened dramatically upon hearing the second sentence.

          "You don't believe that to be the case?"

          "I... I don't think the Knights nor Voldemort are the culprits. That's the problem," Turais whispered back. "But I have no proof... of course..."

          "But then, who could it be?" Harold looked utterly perplexed. "And what are their motives? At least for the Knights, they have much to gain from weakening the Auror Office and destabilizing the Ministry."

          "If I knew, I would have already been hunting down that person instead of sitting here uselessly," Turais huffed out in frustration. "The more I think of it, the less sense it makes!" For a split moment, he wondered whether he had fallen into a trap woven by those behind this grander conspiracy. But then, he stopped himself before he could make himself more paranoid. However, he could not shake off this feeling entirely either. Turais whispered brokenly, "Have I just caused more innocent lives to die needlessly? Have I -"

          "Turais," Harold interrupted him abruptly. "You are spiraling."

          "But I don't think I am!" Turais argued. "Have I become a pawn who furthered the plans of those behind this plot with my involvement today?!"

          "Turais -" Harold placed a hand on Turais's shoulder. However, it failed to provide any warmth or comfort to Turais. "It's been a long day... and a sad, sad day for the Ministry... maybe you should extract yourself from this hotbed of controversy once they release you. The proximity to the case is not doing you - or any one of us involved - any favours. It saddens me to see you in such a state of distress."

          "But -"

          Harold held up his hand and silenced Turais.

          "Turais, please listen to me," the man said firmly. "The one thing I've learnt in life is that actions have consequences. Some are intended, others are not. Some are favourable, others are not. At least let yourself rest with the fact that you mitigated a potentially disastrous outcome. If you had not intervened, we would have been living in a world where a compromised Head Auror continued to lead the Auror Office without being detected. Charlus would continue to be wrongfully accused. Your friend, Carmichael, could still be in danger. That is definitely a worse outcome than the one we have right now, wouldn't you agree?"

          "I suppose so..." Turais muttered, "But we might never know what the true cost of that decision is."

          "Your goal was to rescue your friend from danger and help Charlus from being accused of crimes he did not commit," Harold said. "You have done everything in your power and you have achieve what you set out to do. That is all that should matter, at least for now."

          Turais disagreed, but he was too exhausted to argue the points further.

          "Also, you're definitely not a pawn, Turais," Harold said, now with a bit of levity in his voice. "Give yourself some credit. You're at least one of the chess players, considering how you managed to turn the tides using all those political maneuvers. It is not very often that you see someone manage to go up against half the DMLE and win."

          The only problem was... that he was a terrible chess player.

          "Then my fear is that I have made a serious blunder and unwittingly placed myself in a major disadvantage."

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

The Queen's Gambit is a popular chess opening where the White side (the first player) seemingly places a sacrificial wing-pawn for the Black side to take. However, if the Black side decides to take the white wing-pawn - hence, "accepting" the gambit - it actually places the Black side in a disadvantage!

Stay tuned and see you all next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-04-21

Chapter 56: The Gilded Cage (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Sorry for the long delay. I hope all of you were well during this time. Work has continued to be incredibly busy the last few weeks and I did not have a chance to write at all. However, I wanted to show that I have not forgotten my readers - all of you - and I have decided to give a mini-update.

So while this update is shorter than my usual ones, I hope you will still enjoy it.

- ravenclawblues 2021-06-25

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

THE GILDED CAGE


 

July 19, 1972 (Wednesday)

 

WILKINS DEAD, SHAFIQ COMPROMISED, POTTER REINSTATED

by Andy Smudgley

How the DMLE Scandal that Rocked the Ministry Came to Be

 

Forty-eight hours was all it took to bring our battered law enforcement agency to its knees with its reputation in utter ruins.

On Monday, the magical community woke up to the bombardo-grade accusation that Charlus Potter, the second-highest-ranking official in the Auror Office, committed insurrection and sedition against the Ministry. From that moment on, the firestorm that placed the Potters squarely in the centre of the scandal burnt wildly out of control. However, no one would have anticipated that in two days, we would discover that it was the Head Auror who was compromised with a mind-controlling potion for months, nor the fact that the culprit was the Head of the DMLE, who would be found dead in his home.

According to our sources who spoke on the condition of anonymity, there was an even larger political struggle behind the scenes that painted a picture where different arms of the DMLE vied for control as unexpected players were also involved.

"The Auror Office was split into two camps - those who supported the Head Auror and those who refused to believe that Potter committed such treachery,"  she said. "Everyone treated those who disagreed with them as either traitors or mindless followers. It was as if they were enemies at war."

The exact details of how the search warrant against Wilkins was granted remains a mystery for now, but it is alleged that the Blacks and Minchum, a rising star in the Wizengamot, played vital roles.

"I saw [Turais] Black - the famous one, you know - and Minchum entering Crouch's office the eve of the raid on the Wilkinses residency," our source confirmed. "I will bet my family heirloom that something happened in that room."

Our reporters reached out to the Blacks and Mr Minchum for comments but have not received their responses by the time of print.

 

***

 

         The grey, overcast skies and muted colours of the sprawling woodlands flitted across Turais's eyes as the Hogwarts Express dutifully carried its passengers towards yet another beginning of the school term.

         Despite the interesting conversations ranging from Alex's stay at Castelobruxo to Gerald's (predictably) disastrous Quidditch summer camp, the events of this summer continued to dominate his thoughts during both his waking moments and otherwise. For the most part, his input consisted of polite nods and a ghost of a smile, but his friends had largely learnt to let him be. Their silent agreement to not pepper him with questions regarding the Auror Conspiracy was also greatly appreciated.

         "Turais's quotidian hour of introspective contemplation," Turais remembered Jonty declaring during one of their train rides. While he had already forgotten the exact details of when the term was coined, it persisted, nonetheless, and was an apt description of his current state.

         "As long as you are not plotting to get yourself into trouble," Jonty added darkly afterwards, and Turais distinctively remembered scoffing at the idea. But perhaps Jonty always had a knack for knowing him, or people in general, better than they knew themselves.

         "- No way!" The same boy gushed loudly in the present, which successfully lured Turais's attention from the dreary scenery back to the brightly lit compartment occupied by the incoming fourth-years and one Regulus Black. He also absently noted that the floor was littered with empty cartons once filled to the brim with candies and bonbons.

         "Yes, indeed," Jane said as she crossed her arms, smiling smugly at the gaping Jonty.

         Turais turned his attention to the boy that was leaning on his shoulder slightly. His youngest brother was notably silent throughout the trip, but he was never one of many words save when he was alone with his family. Speaking of family, Sirius had disappeared as soon as they boarded the train, presumably spending time with his Gryffindor friends and, of course, James and Remus.

         As Jonty and Jane continued their verbal sparring in the background, Turais nudged at his younger brother gently. He asked, "How are you feeling, Reggie? Excited?"

         "I suppose," Regulus muttered with a tiny shrug. He rolled his wand between his fingertips as he flipped to yet another page of the Transfiguration textbook. 

         "Turais is absolutely brilliant," Gerald, who sat across from them, said encouragingly. "I'm sure you will be as well."

         Regulus gave Gerald a weak grimace and nod before examining his book once more. Gerald looked at Turais, perplexed as if he worried that he had misspoken, but Turais returned a reassuring smile.

         Turning to his brother, he said, "You've been reading the textbooks cover-to-cover all summer, Reggie. I’m sure you can take some time to enjoy the train ride. Why don't I help you place it back into your trunk?"

         "No, thank you," Regulus replied curtly without looking up. Just as Turais was about to comment further, the growing commotion down the seat grabbed his attention.

         "Jane!" Alice hissed as she pinched Jane. "Stop this!"

         There were blotches of pink across her cheeks as she averted her gaze coyly.

         Looking over Regulus’s head, Turais asked curiously, "What's the matter?"

         "We're just talking about who in our year are dating," Jonty supplied, "And Jane seems to have a big announcement to make."

         "Jane, you never struck me as a gossipmonger," Turais said amusedly.

         "Oh, hush," Jane said as Alice struggled fruitlessly to halt the words spilling from Jane's lips. "It's not gossip when it's your best friend's love life in question. Alice is dating the fifth-year Gryffindor boy, Frank Longbottom!"

         "Jane..." Alice groaned as a glint sparked in Jonty's eyes.

         Meanwhile, Turais his entire world ground to a halt as he focused purely on the girl's reddening face.

         Alice Smith was Neville Longbottom's mother?! Of course, she was! How could Turais not have recognized that?!

         "I know?!" Jane seemed to be appeased by Turais's silent but amply shocked expression. "Can you believe that out of everyone here, Alice was the one who managed to find herself in a relationship first?!"

         "Hey!" Alice poked Jane in her side with a scowl as Jane giggled, "What is that supposed to mean?"

         "Well, I always thought Turais or Jonty would be first," Jane explained. At Turais's slight tilt of his head in confusion, she explained with a hint of exasperation. "Turais, please do tell me you know half the girls have a crush on you."

         Turais could feel the heat slowly creep onto his cheeks as Jane continued with a shrug, "I mean, you're not half bad-looking." Turais was sure that he now looked as red as Alice was. "As for Jonty, because... I don't know... he always seemed to me like he is the type to - you know - mingle."

         "Uh, excuse you, young lady!" Jonty gasped dramatically, acting affronted and completely scandalized by what he just heard. "I would never!"

         As they started to bicker animatedly, Turais reeled from the revelation.

         "Wow..." Turais muttered. He turned to Alice and asked, "How did this come to be?"

         Jane jumped back into the conversation, ignoring Jonty, as Alice busied herself with looking embarrassed. She took in a lungful of air and started to speak quickly, "So... Alice went to Egypt this summer, correct? Their family stayed in the same inn as Longbottom and MacGregor, the Gryffindor Chaser. So, they did a lot of sightseeing together... and some... little exploring with only the two of them... and the rest is history."

         "Congratulations, Alice," Turais smiled weakly as he tried to keep the percolating shock within him at bay. "I'm sure Longbottom is an absolute gentleman."

         "He is..."

         Suddenly, there was a knock on the compartment, and the door slid open. Turais realized he was looking at a teenage version of Frank Longbottom.

         "Aww... your honey-boo can't wait until Hogwarts to see you," Jane cooed as Alice swatted her arm half-heartedly.

         Frank's face tinted pink as he asked, "Hi... Alice, how was the rest of your summer?"

         "It was fine," Alice said quietly in return. "How was yours?"

         "It was good... but not as good as seeing you again..."

         Alice dipped her ever-reddening face as Frank mirrored her reaction.

         "Frank," Jane's voice cut through the silent space. "Alice would love to share her plans with you -" Alice shot Jane a murderous glare, but she ignored it. "Do you want to take a stroll with her and talk about it?"

         Frank scratched his head and said, "If that suits you, Alice...?"

         "Of course," Alice said as she stood up and walked to the door, but not without shooting another glare at the smirking and mightily pleased Jane.

         "Well," Jonty cleared his throat the second the door slid shut. "If that's all, then I will excuse myself -"

         "Jonathan Steward!" Jane gasped. "You are not leaving this compartment to tell everyone else that Alice and Frank are dating!"

         Jonty blinked owlishly for a brief moment before giving her a mischievous smirk. "Well, too late. You should've thought of that before you told us -"

         "I only told you because we're all Alice's friends here!" Jane cried out. She menacingly took a step towards Jonty and hissed dangerously, "Also, you promised. Remember? Hogsmeade?"

         Whatever that statement meant, its effects were immediate as Jonty's face was now stricken with panic.

         "Fine, you're right," Jonty mumbled as he sat down in defeat. Turais glanced at Gerald and Alex, who both shrugged in confusion.

         Suddenly, Gerald pointed at the lapel of Turais's robe and shouted. "Where's your pin, Turais?!"

         "Oh, right! You've been made Slytherin team captain!" Jonty gasped in recognition.

         "I want to see the pin, Turais," Gerald whined as his hands made eager grabbing motions. "Turais…!"

         "It's in my school trunk -"

         "Why aren't you wearing it?!"

         "Because I don't want to -"

         "What?!" Gerald shouted incredulously. "That's like... the most prestigious thing you can ever get in Hogwarts besides the Head Boy badge!"

         "Speaking of which," Turais directed the conversation back to Jonty. "Do you happen to know who has been made Head Girl and Head Boy?"

         The boy sat up straight and adjusted his necktie authoritatively. 

         "Of course I know that," Jonty said dismissively. "It's Estella Khanna of Ravenclaw and Kaiden Potter of Gryffindor."

         Turais wondered if he had misheard the other boy.

         "Sorry, did you say Kaiden?"

         Jonty gave an affirmative nod.

         "But... but..."

         At the same time, Evelyn Napier appeared on the other side of the glass panel as he knocked on the door.

         "Hi Turais," the seventh-year Prefect said with a tight smile. His eyes quickly focused on the youngest member in the compartment as he pulled out a familiar-looking scroll. "An invitation from Professor Slughorn for lunch."

         "For me?" Regulus asked as he took the piece of paper with uncertainty. "He knows me?"

         "The Professor most certainly knows of you!" Evelyn sniffed as he shot a side glance towards Turais. "Turais is his star pupil, and he would certainly want to meet his youngest brother."

         "Oh... I see..." Regulus looked slightly crestfallen as he looked at the scroll with a dampened enthusiasm.

         "Well, I will see you all around," Evelyn gave another grimace-like smile before leaving.

         "Evelyn, wait," Turais called out as he ran after the Prefect in the narrow corridor. The older boy turned around to face him, and Turais continued, "I'm sorry to hear that you lost out on the position of Head Boy. I know how hard you worked for it, and how much you wanted -"

         "It's fine," Evelyn spat harshly. Realizing his outburst, the Prefect looked apologetic. However, the simmering tension and bitterness continued to emanate from his body language. "I do apologize for my lapse in decorum, Turais. But I -" Evelyn paused mid-sentence before sighed heavily, "- I cannot help but wonder whether I ever had a chance, to begin with."

         "The Headmaster had his considerations, Evelyn," Turais said placating even though he was also privately fuming about Dumbledore's decision.

         "I'm sure he did consider it well," Evelyn hissed bitingly. "I don't mean to bad-mouth Potter, but... he is still recovering from a serious injury. The Headmaster could have practically chosen anyone to become Head Boy, and they need not even have been a Prefect! If he wanted to, there are others qualified for the job. It is as if... he was dead-set on gifting Potter that position."

         "The Headmaster has also been known for being partial towards his former House," Turais muttered.

         Evelyn's shoulders slumped as he muttered bitterly, "And at our expenses."

         "Hey, Turais!" Evelyn flinched at the sound of Kaiden's voice originating from behind Turais's tensed-up figure. Seconds later, Kaiden stopped beside the two of them. Eyeing the armful of scrolls, the Gryffindor said approvingly, "Always on top of your tasks, Napier."

         Evelyn nodded awkwardly without making eye contact. Clearing his throat, he glanced at Turais and said, "Well, I still have to make rounds. I will see you both later."

         As the Slytherin Prefect strolled off, a lull befell the two boys. Kaiden scratched the back of his ear and caused the Head Boy pin to move as his robe stretched. The glistening rays of light from the nearby compartments bounced off its shiny, metal surface and danced around on the gently shuddering train walls.

         "So..." Kaiden tried the silence as Turais shifted his body slightly. "How was the rest of your summer?"

         "Good," Turais simply stated before adding, "Busy, I suppose."

         Kaiden nodded encouragingly. "I've heard. You've set up the charity, right? For the Wolfsbane Potion."

         "Yeah."

         "It is a great cause."

         Turais pressed his lips together to form a pinched smile.

         "Thank you."

         Kaiden's tentative smile froze. Then, he adopted a more severe expression.

         "Am I broaching this topic, or will you be the one to do it?"

         Turais finally looked up and into Kaiden's unwavering eyes. He sighed and said, "Kaiden, you are overthinking this -"

         "No, I am not," Kaiden hissed. He looked up and saw Jonty eyeing them curiously through the compartment window before guiding them further down the corridor. "You've turned down the invitation to my birthday party and have basically cut off all communications with me ever since..." Kaiden paused before breathing in heavily, "... Whatever happened to Michael's parents and the... the rest of the omnishambles!"

         Turais deliberately kept his distance from the Potters, with one very specific Potter in mind.

         "It has nothing to do with you, Kaiden," Turais reassured.

         "That means it does have something to do with someone," Kaiden pressed on. "It's my father whom you have qualms with, isn't it? My father acts strangely when your name is mentioned, and do not question what I’ve witnessed myself."

         "Look," Turais deflected. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's all in the past now."

         Kaiden looked thoroughly unconvinced as he said with slight exasperation and sadness, "But everything has changed because of it."

         Turais faced the other boy and said somberly, "It has, hasn't it?"

         Kaiden sighed and slumped his shoulders tiredly. 

         "So much has happened in the past few months..." he said, flexing the fingers of his gloved right hand mindlessly.

         With a gentler voice, Turais asked, "How are you doing?"

         "Better in some ways... but much, much worse in others."

         "And Michael?"

         "He is coping. The death of his parents... and to discover that his father was a criminal..."

         "It will be rough for him," Turais muttered.

         Kaiden nodded in agreement.

         "Without a doubt, but you and Catherine don't have it much easier."

         Turais understood that he would become an even more polarizing figure after this summer, but as for Catherine...

         "I acted irrationally, but her father was ultimately proven to be innocent in all this."

         "That's true, but she took the news about her father very hard. And you know that people are bound to gossip."

         "I suppose."

         "This is shaping up to be a very difficult year for many of us."

         Turais nodded in silent agreement. It felt like that was the only response he could give to this bizarre situation.

 

***

 

         The rest of the train ride passed monotonously. As it slowed to a crawl entering Hogsmeade Station, Turais could not muster an ounce of elation.

         After escorting Regulus to the boats, Turais deliberately loitered around the station to spend a few more precious moments outside the school grounds. He stalled to the very last moment before finally dragging his heels across the wet, muddy trail up to the castle. 

         Ever since Turais's involvement in uncovering the truth in the Auror Conspiracy, Arcturus had made it plenty clear that Turais would not set foot in the Wizengamot under his watch. With Hogsmeade weekends suspended indefinitely, every step he took felt like he was cementing his fate being trapped within those ancient walls for the following months. Minutes later, the heavy, iron-wrought gates creaked and groaned as they closed behind him. Then, a shimmer in the air rippled downwards from the skies around the metal bars and onto the forest floor as the wards sealed the entrance.

         The sight caused something to tighten in Turais's chest uncomfortably. It was a familiar sensation but one never associated with Hogwarts. Fearing what it meant, Turais pushed his feelings to a dark recess of his mind. He turned his back away from the gates and walked away as the desolate feeling continued to gnaw at him.

         "Treat this as a sabbatical," Jonty suggested lightly as he helped Turais onto the Thestral carriage. His knowing eyes seemingly suggested that he understood perfectly what was tormenting Turais's mind.

         Turais supposed that was an - if not the only - option.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed! Stay safe and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-06-25

Chapter 57: Mischief Mismanaged (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Sorry for the long delay. I hope all of you were well during this time. Work continues to be very busy, but I hope you enjoy this new update!

Take care and stay safe!

- ravenclawblues 2021-08-15

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

MISCHIEF MISMANAGED


 

          Arriving on the last carriage, Turais climbed up the luggage-lined staircases with Jonty and Alex under the flickering torches that cast an amber glow throughout the castle. They ascended in relative silence as the ancient hallways were filled with only the cackles of flames and dull echoes of heavy footsteps. Looking out of the window on one of the landings, Turais could see faint lights from the lamps on the boats that the first-years were travelling on dotting the middle of the Black Lake. As they approached the Great Hall, the murmurs of the boisterous dialogues steadily grew. But before they rounded the final corner, there was a series of rapid footsteps as a familiar bespectacled boy charged up towards them from behind.

          "James?"

          "Hey, Turais!" The boy gasped between gulps of air. Peeking around the doors into the Great Hall, he turned back to the trio of confused expressions and asked, "The Sorting hasn't started yet, has it?"

          "No," Alex replied with a hint of skepticism. 

          "Great!" James replied in his falsely bright tone. "Well, hurry up and get seated! You wouldn't want to miss the Sorting, right?"

          There was a hint of inexplicable excitement in the boy's words that Turais failed to place. James gave a final mock salute before he sprinted off to rejoin the rest of the school.

          "Why was James in such a rush?' Alex asked. "And I thought we were the last ones arriving. We didn't see anyone on our way up, did we?"

          "He's up to something, but we will need to wait and see what he has planned," Turais responded dryly and shook his head before walking into the Hall.

          The moment Turais stepped through the giant oak doors, it felt as if the air was sucked out of the large room as the energetic conversations trickled to a complete stop. In their place were hushed whispers as the students eyed the incoming group with undue curiosity and fascination. Even Jonty - famously sure-footed in any social circumstances - seemed fazed at the abrupt shift.

          "So much for looking forward to a normal year," Jonty muttered with clenched jaws. He quickly guided Alex and Turais towards their usual seats. Only a handful of staff was present at the High Table as the feast was still half an hour away. However, most of the students had already taken their seats and were eagerly chatting amongst themselves while awaiting the start-of-term feast and the Sorting Ceremony to begin.

          Suddenly, a loud noise emanated from the Entrance Hall as all the heads turned towards the source.

          "What was t-"

          The question was cut short as the answer presented itself.

          "Supper's ready!" Peeves declared as the trays of food in his hands cast menacing shadows over the students ten feet below. "Shall we feast?"

          Then, pies started to descend from above as the students pushed each other out of the way to escape the line of fire. However, the unruly poltergeist had already moved onto the next targets for his bowls of gravy sauces, which turned out to be some unfortunate fifth-year Ravenclaws.

          "Peeves!" Pearson, the Gryffindor Prefect, shouted as she whipped out her wand. At least, that was what she planned to do until she found herself doused in a waterfall of orange liquid.

          "Oops! Thought you were asking for a drink," Peeves said gleefully with an emptied jug of pumpkin juice in his hand. Then, he grabbed a lump of mashed potato and aimed for the back of the head of a fleeing Slytherin.

          "PEEVES!" shouted Professor Flitwick angrily. "Get down here right this very moment!"

          However, his voice was lost in the cacophony of shrieks. 

          While everyone's focus was squarely on the very present nuisance that was zooming overhead, Turais trained his sight on the Gryffindor table in which he noticed something odd - or rather, glaringly absent.

          "I knew it!" Turais muttered to himself as he scrambled to his feet.

          "Where are you going?" Alex shouted after him, but Turais ignored it and joined the group of students trying to escape the carnage and to the relative safety of the Entrance Hall. Panning his gaze around the cavernous space, he caught a glimpse of a shoe on the steps of the marble staircase before it quickly flashed out of view as if an invisible curtain was drawn over it.

          Gritting his teeth, Turais slowly drifted to the edge of the coalescing crowd and slunk away at the first opportunity. He carefully trailed behind the pair of footsteps as they travelled down the empty first-floor corridors. 

          "Where are we heading, James?" Sirius whispered anxiously.

          "Shh... Not so loud, Sirius," James's voice replied quietly.

          "But where?"

          "You'll find out. We're almost there."

          "It was your idea, wasn't it?" Sirius continued. "Back in the Great Hall. Peeves."

          "It's a brilliant idea, don't you reckon?"

          Turais could hear the beaming smile that was definitely on the boy's face right now.

          "I don't know about this, James... What would Turais say if he -"

          "What your brother doesn't know, he won't say. Capiche?" James interrupted. The footsteps suddenly stopped as the same voice wondered out loud, "This is a great line. Remind me to write it down later."

          "But Turais will find out," Sirius muttered. "He always does."

          "Relax, Sirius. He doesn't know what the God of Mischief can do at his greatest potential," James huffed as they resumed their course.

          "And you don't know Turais well enough," Sirius muttered under his breath. After a minute of silent walking, they finally stopped in front of a large, locked door.

          They were at the school library.

          "What are we even doing here?" Sirius asked as James started to tinker with the lock with his wand. 

          "To access the Restricted Section, of course!"

          "What for?! - Oh... James..." whined Sirius. "Please tell me this is not about that stupid obsession of yours... decadence or something -"

          "It's dissendium, Sirius. Dee-sen-dee-um. And for the last time, it's not stupid! -" There was a clear, audible click, and the door swung ajar slightly to reveal the dark space behind. "- And we're in!"

          "Alright, alright. But how long is this going to take, James?" hissed Sirius.

          "What do you mean? Do you have somewhere to be?"

          "It's..." Sirius paused before sighing heavily, "It's... Never mind."

          "What's gotten into you, mate?" 

          "Nothing."

          "It doesn't sound like nothing. We're not going to get in trouble if you're worried about that. In and out, simple as it sounds. No one will notice that we've been gone."

          "It's not about that, James."

          "Then what is it? Come on. Spit it out."

          "It's... Just forget it and get on with this plan of yours. In and out. You promised," Sirius said. " Lumos. "

          The two boys slipped through the tiny opening with ignited wand tips before closing the door behind them. Waiting patiently for a couple of minutes, Turais followed them inside.

          The library was pitch-black and only lit by the weak, silvery moonlight through the stained-glass windows on the left. It shone upon the rows and rows of bookshelves, which cast eerie shadows across the walls and floor. Turais made his way towards the back of the library where the Restricted Section was located. Predictably, he could see two specks of flickering white light between the gaps of the bookshelf in the roped-off section as the two second-years searched on.

          As he approached the duo from afar, he could hear their hushed conversation.

          "Ooo... La... "

          There was the sound of a quick slap on the skin as James hissed in pain.

          "Don't just touch books randomly, James!" Sirius scolded.

          "How am I supposed to find the book if I'm not allowed to touch them?"

          "These books can contain dark magic and be cursed!"

          "I doubt Dumbledore will leave books like that lying around the school library."

          Sirius fell silent for a moment before saying, "Let's just find that book of yours and leave."

          "I was just about to do precisely that before you stopped me -"

          Suddenly, an earsplitting, high-pitched alarm screamed into the empty library, penetrating Turais's skull and dizzying his senses.

          "Silencio! " Turais called out in panic before the library settled into a spine-chilling silence filled with only the pounding of his own racing heart.

          "Who's there?" James whispered aloud.

          Turais emerged from the neighbouring row, much to the shock of the younger boys, and saw a large book lying open on the floor of the aisle.

          "T... Turais," Sirius stammered with blood drained from his pale face. "What are you doing here?"

          "I can ask you two the same question," Turais replied sternly. However, before he could comment further, audible footsteps were approaching from the corridor outside.

          Turais turned to the two boys, who were wide-eyed and frozen in fear.

          "Get under your Cloak and make a run for it," Turais instructed. Sirius and James shook out of their stupor and did as told. In a swirl of invisible fabric, the two boys disappeared from view. Judging by the rapidly fading footsteps, Turais assumed that the boys followed his instructions. Eyeing that his only escape route was currently blocked, Turais hastily cast a Disillusionment Charm over him and retreated to a darker nook of the library. The pair of newcomers slowly surveyed the area and approached his hiding spot.

          Then, Turais found himself face-to-face with none other than Argus Filch, albeit a much younger version of the man he knew.

          "Students sneaking into the Forbidden Section," Filch cooed tauntingly as he swung his lamp around, casting its revealing beams around the area.

          Holding his breath and not daring to move a muscle, Turais watched in trepidation as Filch walked past his camouflaged body. Once the caretaker rounded the corner to check the next row, Turais turned his attention to the other person walking down the section, and his heart dropped to his stomach.

          It was Dumbledore.

          His glance travelled up and down the aisles as he approached Turais's location unhurriedly. At that moment, Turais knew he had to leave before the Headmaster had a chance to see through his poorly-conceived disguise. Turais slowly tip-toed towards the windows, hoping to sneak away unnoticed.

          Initially, he was successful as he hopped behind one bookshelf to the next while Dumbledore was looking in the other direction. However, just as he was walking past the location where he found Sirius and James, there was a second scream of alarm - identical to the first - that blared out adjacent to him.

          It was then that Turais realized a pair of piercing blue eyes were trained solely on him. The odd sensation akin to cold water trickling down his back shivered through his body as the Disillusionment Charm was lifted against Turais's will.

          "Mr Filch," Dumbledore called out calmly. "I may have found our intruder."

          Out of the corner of his eyes, Turais watched as a floating hand tugged on a book on the shelf before both objects disappeared from view.

 

***

 

          "Oh, dear, someone's in trouble,"  Filch commented gleefully as he seized Turais by the collar and forcefully sat him on the chair opposite of Dumbledore in the Headmaster's Office.

          "Thank you for your hard work, Argus," Dumbledore said with a sickeningly pleasant voice. "Do you mind leaving him with me?"

          "Of course, Headmaster," Filch said with a respectful bow. "Do I need to look for the missing book?"

          "That would not be necessary."

          "But, sir," Filch replied worriedly. "It's a book from the Restricted Section."

          "I have everything under control, Argus," Dumbledore responded firmly, indicating that there would be no further discussion on the matter.

          Filch nodded hurriedly. "Of course, Headmaster. I will be patrolling the hallways and reporting to you at once if there are any suspicious activities."

          “And before that, would you mind telling Minerva to start the Sorting Ceremony without me.”

          “As you wish, sir,” Filch bowed again.

          "Perfect," Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, Argus."

          The door closed shut behind them, and Turais was immediately subjected to the suffocating intensity of Dumbledore's gaze once again. There was an extended pause as both men merely sat in a tense silence that was occasionally disturbed by a light ring or a tiny hiss of steam from the whirring brass equipment. It was as if they were two foes squaring off on a battlefield and waiting for the other to make the first move.

          Finally, Dumbledore broke the stalemate and asked, "Do you have a taste for Licorice Snap, Mr Black?"

          That question managed to throw Turais off-kilter as his eyes darted towards the proffered bowl of jet-black sweets.

          "I am quite alright without one, Professor."

          Dumbledore shrugged and popped one into his mouth before the licorice had a chance to nip at his fingers. Standing up, he walked up to the vacant, golden perch sitting at the corner of his expansive office.

          "Do you remember Fawkes, Mr Black?"

          "Difficult not to, sir," Turais replied, mirroring the older man's casual tone. "It is not every day that one manages to witness a phoenix on its Burning Day."

          "Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Then it would not be presumptuous to assume that you remember clearly what I asked you in private that night?"

          Turais remembered it was the day he was questioned for dueling Nott in the Slytherin common room, and he wondered how he should best respond to the question. Should he deny recalling the memory, or should he acknowledge it?

          Choosing to stay on the defensive, Turais said, "I am unsure as to what you are referring to -"

          "What do you seek in the Restricted Section?"

          "Nothing," Turais replied.

          "Oh... I am certain you have something on your mind, Mr Black. Perhaps, a legendary place…" The answer finally occurred to Turais when something shifted in Dumbledore's tone as he asked bitingly in controlled, icy-cold fury. "Are you in search of the Chamber of Secrets?" 

          "No! I -" Turais denied the accusation immediately. Then, he paused and gasped, "The Basilisk skin..."

          "Yes..." Dumbledore replied softly but no less deadly. "The discovery of the Basilisk skin by Mr Wilkins last year was a terrible premonition. Then, I received interesting reports from the portraits of your sporadic but extended periods of disappearances..."

          Turais looked up to see Dumbledore's wry smile. If Turais dared to examine closely, he suspected there was even a hint of pity as if the older man wondered how Turais had managed to fall so far into the darkness. However, at this current moment, Turais was still reeling from trying to understand how he managed to stumble into such a predicament in the first place.

          Knotting his fingers together, Dumbledore asked, "You are plotting something, aren't you, Mr Black? Come clean with your actions or face the consequences of your insolence."

          At that moment, Turais realized there was nothing he could do or say to change Dumbledore's impression of the entire situation. But why would he, considering that all the evidence led towards a singular, inevitable conclusion that Turais Black was just another Tom Riddle biding his time and plotting to overtake the world.

          "I have nothing to offer you but my silent denial to all your claims," Turais said finally. 

          "Very well," Dumbledore sighed with a hint of sorrow and regret. However, his grandfatherly act of disappointment served only to infuriate and frustrate Turais. "For your offense of trespassing in the Restricted Section, I regretfully strip you of your role as the Slytherin Quidditch Team Captain -"

          Turais closed his eyes and nodded, fully expecting that to be the most obvious punishment.

          " - and place you under supervised detention starting tomorrow until it is deemed appropriate."

          "What?!" Turais cried out incredulously as he stood up abruptly from the shocking announcement. Turais exclaimed, "This is preposterous!"

          "Then you ought to be truthful," Dumbledore replied sternly, unfazed by Turais's outrage. "And realize that you are straying from the correct path."

          "I have never done anything that violated my morals," Turais spat spitefully. "And this is something that you will never be able to - and can never - claim, you bigoted fool!"

          Audible gasps erupted around the room from all the portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses pretending to be asleep until that moment.

          "That's my boy!" Turais could hear the sole cry of appreciation from the far side of the room. However, he could not focus on that because Turais observed genuine anger in the elderly wizard for the first time as his face flushed in rage. A vein by his right temple was pulsating and straining under the elevating pressure. Even with all the bravado he had, Turais could not help but cower slightly at the sight.

          After several tense seconds, however, the Headmaster seemed to have successfully kept his emotions under check.

          Closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath, Dumbledore said softly, "And for your repeated impudent behaviour, I will place an additional ban on your participation in Quidditch matches until the end of term. You may now leave, Mr Black."

          Utterly shocked and with no recourse, Turais threw the most hateful glance at the Headmaster before he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him as he left.

          Turais's mind was blank except for the urge to be as far removed from the Headmaster's Office as possible. Therefore, he stumbled further and further into the bowels of the Slytherin dungeons until the corridors ran out and turned into dead ends. There, he slid onto the frigid stone floor and stared into the darkness.

          'Was this how Tom Riddle felt?'

          Turais could not help but wonder.

          The anger, the rage, the frustration... They all clawed and gnawed at his heart painfully. The images of a sneering, victorious Dumbledore towering over his helpless, chained body now consumed his thoughts.

          He sympathized with Tom Riddle's predicament.

          He felt bad for Tom Riddle.

          He felt bad for Tom Riddle!

          At the utterly absurd thought, Turais couldn't help but bark out a chuckle that sounded pathetic and deranged even to his ears.

          Him. Turais Orion Black. Previously Harry James Potter. A person who devoted his life - lives , the two of them - fighting against the very thing that he was currently sympathizing with.

          He felt sympathy for Tom Riddle, a future Dark Lord that unleashed two Wizarding Wars and killed countless innocent people, both magical and not...

          Turais did not know how long he sat there for, but he suddenly noticed the distant echoes of his name.

          "Turais! Turais!" A voice called out continuously.

          Seconds later, there was a flickering of light as a figure appeared a few metres in front of him.

          "Turais!" Alex called out with a mixture of worry and relief as he spotted the despondent boy. Alex dashed towards the other boy and knelt beside him. Failing to catch the attention of Turais's glazed-over eyes, Alex shook Turais's shoulder gently and said, "I was so worried about you, Turais. Are you feeling fine? What happened?"

          Turais could only muster a mirthless chuckle as he shook his head.

          "Turais?" Alex's voice turned uncertain, possibly fearful, as the other boy fell silent. He shook Turais's shoulder again, this time more forcefully. "You're scaring me, Turais."

          "I'm fine," Turais muttered as he brushed Alex's hands away.

          "No, you're decidedly not fine."

          "I said I'm fine!" Turais roared. Frightened by the display, Alex tipped backwards and fell onto his buttocks with his jaw hanging open. Guilt seeped into Turais's consciousness, but he was still in too much shock to apologize for his actions.

          Bending his knees and hiding his face from view, Turais muttered, "Leave me alone." After a few seconds, he added a feeble "Please."

          There was no answer from the other boy for a long while until he heard the set of retreating footsteps.

          He expected the renewed solitude would bring him some peace and solace. However, Alex's absence only made the silence more hollow, the darkness more isolating, and the painful memories of his recent encounter more unbearable. Turais closed his eyes and curled into himself more tightly as he slowly lost himself in his turbulent thoughts. Then, after some time, he registered something warm pressing against his shoulder.

          Creaking open his eyes, Turais looked sideways to see a slumbering Alex with his head lolling on Turais's shoulder. He then noticed a thick blanket draped over his body while the rest of it pooled uselessly on the ground. Casting his eyes further, he noticed the dying flames inside a dim gas lamp next to a plateful of cold and hardened treacle tart. A quick check of his wristwatch told him that it was five in the morning and that they had inadvertently spent the first night of their fourth year in an unused hallway.

          Alerted by Turais's movement, Alex stirred as he blinked his eyes drowsily. Sitting up and stretching his arms, Turais noticed that Alex's usually immaculate hair was now messy and sticking up in all sorts of odd angles.

          "What happened?" Alex asked groggily as he yawned. Then, the events of the previous night finally dawned upon him as his eyes widened comically. Quickly adopting a gentle and cautious tone, Alex asked, "Turais, how are you feeling?" 

          In all honesty, Turais was still livid that Dumbledore accused him of everything that he did not commit. However, the circumstance he found himself in was quite damning.

          Most importantly, he was well past the peak of his anger. With a calmer mind, Turais realized that the loss of the title of Slytherin Quidditch Team Captain, the Quidditch ban, and supervised detention were not as terrible as an ordinary student would feel. To him, they were all minor inconveniences, at most.

          Annoying? Yes. Horrible? Perhaps. Unbearable? Definitely not.

          Now, Turais regretted that his temper got the better of him during his tense exchange with Dumbledore. While staying calm would not have lessened the punishments, at least it would not have given Dumbledore the satisfaction of being successful at getting under Turais's skin. 

          "Better," Turais said truthfully. "Sorry, I was in a terrible mood yesterday."

          Alex nodded understandingly. With a scratch at the nape of his hair, Alex said uncomfortably, "I... uh... I heard about... uh... what happened to you... Slughorn, he... spoke of it in the common room after the feast. The Heads of House were notified, according to him."

          "So the entire school knows now?" Turais confirmed. Alex nodded his head awkwardly.

          "How much do you know?"

          "That you were caught trying to steal a book from the Forbidden Section, and also that you are no longer the Quidditch team captain and cannot participate in Quidditch matches for the entire year."

          Turais sighed. Well, that's that, he supposed.

          "How about Sirius and James? What were they punished with?"

          Alex scrunched his face in confusion.

          "Sirius and James? He didn't mention anything about them. Were they involved?"

          "What?" It was Turais's turn to be confused. But then, everything made sense in his mind. Of course, Dumbledore's precious Gryffindors would receive a pass for their activities when it would be convenient for Turais to take the fall for everything. While Turais was glad Sirius escaped unscathed, bitter resentment still lingered in his mouth like a terrible aftertaste. 

          There was nothing Turais could do without dragging Sirius into the mess with him, and this was something which Turais would never let happen.

          "Never mind," Turais said in defeat. "Let's head back to the common room."

          "Are you hungry?" Alex asked immediately. "I have some treacle tarts here... oh... They're all cold now..."

          "Thank you, Alex. And thank you for staying with me all night, Alex."

          "It's nothing," Alex said and looked away shyly. "I just... I only know that you have always done the same for me."

          Touched, Turais pulled Alex in for a tight hug. 

          "Thank you."

 

***

 

          It took the sight of Regulus to remind Turais of the true cost of yesterday's events. His youngest brother was sleeping on the couch in front of the fireplace where the dying embers were radiating the last of its warmth after a long, sleepless night. 

          Turais stood motionlessly as he listened to the pyjamaed boy's gentle snore punctuate the heavy silence.  The anger and frustration he retained from yesterday had all but fled his mind, leaving behind only guilt and remorse that continued to course throughout his body.

          "I missed Reggie's Sorting," Turais whispered as the enormity of the situation finally occurred to him.

          "Everyone knew he would be Sorted into Slytherin," Alex said, evidently trying to comfort the distressed boy. "Also, you didn't plan for this to happen. It was an accident."

          Turais merely shook his head and repeated numbly, "I missed Reggie's Sorting."

          He shuffled towards his youngest brother quietly. Kneeling beside him, Turais brushed back the strands of hair dangling over Regulus's face and watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Gently, he slipped his arms beneath Regulus and lifted him. Regulus's breathing hitched for one moment. Then he shifted in Turais's arms slightly before his breathing smoothed out as he became still once more. Turais carried Regulus up the stairs to the first-year dormitories and tucked him into his bed. Finally, he drew the curtains on the four-poster bed to block the light from the brightening skies.

          Careful not to disturb the others, Turais closed the door behind him soundless and returned to the common room before allowing himself to breathe freely. He rubbed his face as he fought to keep the overwhelming sense of regret at bay.

          "He was the first to be Sorted, right?" Turais asked weakly as he sat down beside Alex.

          "I... I suppose. He's a Black, after all." 

          "How was Reggie during the feast?" 

          "I... I... didn't pay attention, sorry..."

          Turais waved off the apology. "I shouldn't have to ask you these questions in the first place. I should have been there to witness it instead."

          "Turais..."

          "Will Reggie forgive me?" Turais asked Alex while scratching a spot on his knuckle to distract himself.

          He could feel Alex struggling to find words before it finally left him slightly deflated.

          "He loves you, Turais. That must count for something."

          Turais could only put on a brave smile and nod at the words.

 

***

 

          After many years of being ogled at by others as Harry Potter and as Turais Black, he was good at ignoring the still gazes and careless whispers around him as he paced around in the Slytherin common room. Apologizing to his brother, however, was not something he knew intimately as this situation rarely arose.

          The door of the first-year dormitory swung open. Turais immediately looked up expectantly only to find another first-year who looked utterly confused as to why he received the full attention of the entire House. Dejected, Turais continued his journey across the carpeted floor under the gazes of his peers, who were anticipating another scene from the latest Black family drama.

          Several minutes later, the same door opened again, and this time, it was Regulus.

          Turais immediately stopped walking and clasped his hands behind his back tightly as he waited for his youngest brother. However, when Regulus saw him, he immediately veered off his path to avoid Turais.

          "Hey Regulus," Turais said as he tried to stop the panicked boy. "I just want to -"

          "I know what you want," Regulus said between gritted teeth as he made a run for the exit.

          "Regulus!" Turais shouted as he chased after the younger boy. They made it to the corridor, and Regulus suddenly stopped, causing Turais to almost crash into him from behind. "Regulus -"

          "Shhh!" Regulus interrupted and motioned for Turais to stay silent. There was a quiet rumble behind them that signified the resealing of the entrance when Regulus spoke up, "Turais! I can't believe you just did that!"

          "Did what?"

          "Just now. You wanted to talk about yesterday, didn't you?"

          "Yes -"

          "But there were a hundred pairs of eyes watching us in there!" Regulus stated. "We will not make a scene in front of a hundred people for their entertainment!"

          "Look, Reggie, I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable," Turais said quickly. "But I also want to apologize for missing your Sorting yesterday."

          Regulus stared at Turais for a long while before asking, "I have one question."

          "Yes?" Turais nodded eagerly.

          "Was it Sirius?" Regulus asked sharply. "Was he the one who's gotten you into all this trouble?"

          Regulus found his answer in Turais's hesitation as he folded his arms disapprovingly. 

          "I knew it," he shouted in frustration.

          "How did -"

          "He and James were missing from the ceremony as well," Regulus replied sharply. "And unlike Sirius, I’m not a complete bonehead. So I can put the two events together, thank you very much."

          "But it's not entirely Sirius's fault -"

          "He and James are one and the same! Stop defending him!" Regulus argued. "Why aren't you the slightest bit angry over this, Turais? Because I am properly furious!"

          "Reggie, it's not that terrible -"

          "He cost you your Quidditch captainship, landed you in a year-long Quidditch ban, and detention for who-knows-how-long! Is that not enough to be mad about? Do you need to be expelled before you even think about possibly yelling at him?"

          "Because these things don't matter to me!"

          Regulus looked at Turais as if he grew another head. Then, he shook his head and said with disgust, "I cannot believe the length that you would go to in order to justify Sirius's behaviour."

          With that, Regulus stormed off, leaving Turais at an utter loss.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

- ravenclawblues 2021-08-15

Chapter 58: The Heart of a Lion (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

- ravenclawblues 2021-09-12

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

THE HEART OF A LION


 

September 2, 1972 (Saturday)

 

UNRIVALLED AND PEERLESS:

LORD BLACK POISED TO FLEX NEWFOUND POLITICAL MUSCLES IN UPCOMING TERM

by Andy Smudgley

 

While the seismic fallout of the DMLE scandal continues to rock the Ministry, the Wizengamot also faces its own reckoning as it confronts the implications of the loss of one of its most influential members.

The death of Lord Abraxas Actaeus Malfoy marked the fourth departure in the span of three months within a chamber notorious for its static membership. However, Lord Malfoy's demise (See page 3 - Unanswered Questions: Who authorized the Dementor's Kiss on McLaggen?) accelerated the dissolution of the Malfoy alliance. This marked the end of an era that witnessed the Malfoy, Black, and Light alliances pitted against each other and ushered in a new era where Lord Black reigns supreme.

The three-month period before the summer recess may offer Wizarding Britain a sense of what a Black-led Wizengamot would be in effect. Multiple key legislations, such as the PUPS Act, have been passed with broad support from both Light and Black-aligned families. Meanwhile, major priorities of the Light alliance were effectively stone-walled in the face of a unified Dark alliance bloc in which Malfoy allies were forced to cooperate with Lord Black.

The underlying animosity between the former Malfoy and Black alliances remains unresolved. Furthermore, Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy - the new Hogwarts graduate and successor of his father - is a potential threat to Lord Black's hold on Malfoy's former allies. However, it is still too early to tell whether the young Lord has the political dexterity and charisma of his late father...

 

***

 

          "Where are you going?" Turais shouted out as he ran after Regulus.

          "To find the daft git named Sirius Black!"

          "You don't even know where the Gryffindor common room is."

          "Well, you know where it is, Turais," Regulus replied drily. "So, problem solved."

          "But Reggie… you are not even headed in the right direction…."

          "I'm not going to the common room. At least, not yet..." Regulus said as he stomped into the Entrance Hall angrily and stood guard. He scanned everyone who passed by them with a piercing, murderous gaze, and Turais felt sorry for the poor students who were subjected to this when they were only trying to get some breakfast. Minutes later, a short, plump Gryffindor boy descended from the stairs, and Regulus sprang into action.

          The stormy expression had completely lifted from Regulus's face by the time he reached the boy. With a brilliant, toothy smile, he greeted, "Excuse me, are you Peter Pettigrew by any chance?"

          Peter's eyes flitted between the two Black brothers as he answered shakily, "Y...yes? How may I help you?"

          "Oh, how wonderful! I am Regulus Black," Regulus exclaimed.

          Peter seemed to be blissfully ignorant of Regulus's motives, but Turais's eyes immediately narrowed at the deceptively innocent tone. Placing a hand on Peter's elbow, Regulus started to guide him towards the nearby corridor away from prying eyes as he continued, "I have heard a lot about you from my brother. My brother is Sirius, by the way. Do you know him?"

          "Of course!" Peter nodded enthusiastically. "We share the same dormitories. My bed is directly across from his! He is an absolute comic and -"

          "I am very well-aware of his antics," Regulus interrupted. The pleasant smile was still plastered on his face, but an edge had started to creep into his speech.

          "Oh... of course," Peter chuckled. "You're his brother. Silly of me to describe him to you when you must be so familiar with -"

          "That's alright, Peter," Regulus interrupted again. "Now, I wish to speak with Sirius. So, I was wondering if you could tell us his whereabouts."

          Peter's smile froze as he started to rub his hands together nervously, "Well, he is still sleeping. I'm sure you know that he and James are late risers, especially on a weekend day like this -"

          "Can you give us the password to the Gryffindor common room then? Or perhaps, walk us up and let us in."

          Peter paled at the suggestion. His pupils darted around frantically as he tried to come up with a valid excuse not to.

          "Well...  I mean... I don't think that is allowed -"

          "It is something quite urgent, I'm afraid... Family-related. I'm sure you can understand," Regulus said. With another extended look at the panicking Gryffindor, however, the Slytherin smirked and stepped forward. Aided by his superior height, the gesture appeared to have successfully intimidated Peter, who raised his arms fearing a physical strike as he started to perspire profusely. "Unless there is something else that you are neglecting to tell us."

          "I... I..." Peter stuttered as he shuffled backwards. "I... I..."

          "Well..." Regulus pulled out a square piece of folded parchment. "I know you are always hanging about with my brother and James and trying to cozy up to their gang. This - here -" He tapped his index finger on the parchment, "- might contain something useful for you..."

          Peter eyed the parchment greedily, evidently considering the offer. However, after several seconds, he closed his eyes and shook his head firmly.

          "No, I cannot accept this."

          Regulus sighed and stuffed the parchment back into his inner robe pocket.

          "We need to do this the hard way then." With the warm pretense all but gone, Regulus growled menacingly, "I suppose I should inform you that you had left some incriminating evidence behind from your little prank that you seemed oh so proud of."

          "W...what do you mean?" Peter asked timidly.

          "You will find out as soon as we end this conversation," Regulus said. Gazing out through the window, he commented airily, "It seems like a beautiful day… Pity that some might not have the chance to enjoy it… Don’t you think, Pettigrew?" Regulus flashed a snide smirk at the pale-faced Peter before turning towards Turais. He said, "Let's go. We need to head to Professor McGonagall's office."

          Curious about what Regulus had planned, Turais followed suit. They left Peter at the first-floor landing, but then, they heard the hurried footsteps running up to them before they even reached the next landing.

          "Wait!"

          The Black brothers turned around to see a panting Peter.

          "Wait," he repeated.

          "What is it, Pettigrew?" Regulus asked coolly.

          "They... they are... they are not in the common room," Peter gasped out. "They weren't there the entire night either."

          "What do you mean?" Turais pressed.

          "I've not seen them since the start-of-term feast. I don't know where they are." 

          "Does Remus know?"

          "No one knows," Peter reiterated. "Not even Remus."

          "Where have you been, Sirius?" Turais muttered to himself.

          "Well, thank you for your information," Regulus said before walking away once again.

          "Wait! Are you still going to tattle on me to the Professor?"

          Regulus paused mid-stride and hummed thoughtfully. Then, he simply said, "No," before continuing on his way.

          "Wait!" Peter called out again. "How... how about the... the parchment?"

          "You turned down my offer, so I'm keeping it," Regulus replied without breaking his stride.

          Turais watched as the crestfallen boy descended the staircase in utter disappointment. Once they turned the corner into the fourth-floor corridor and out of sight, Regulus asked, "He didn't follow us, did he?"

          "He didn't," Turais confirmed. At the reply, Regulus began to swing his arms animatedly and hummed in contentment, seemingly in a pleasant mood.

          "What was that all about?" Turais asked.

          "You mean with Pettigrew? Oh. Well, that was a dud," Regulus grimaced as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. The foul mood that preoccupied the boy also seemed to be slowly making its return. "But at least we figured out that when there's trouble, our dearest brother is never to be found! How typical ."

          "Well, I suppose he is somewhat of an escape artist," Turais said diplomatically. "But, what about the parchment? What did you write on it?"

          "Huh?" Regulus creased his brows in confusion before he realized what Turais was talking about. "Oh, about that..."

          The younger boy pulled out the parchment and handed it to Turais. Unfolding the parchment, Turais noticed it was completely blank.

          "I happen to carry spare parchments around," Regulus shrugged at Turais's unimpressed expression. "I thought he could use one - you know - to make a list of what the two buffoons do and remind himself what exactly not to do ."

          "And I suppose you were bluffing about the evidence as well," commented Turais drily as Regulus gave him a cheeky thumbs up.

          "I mean... From his expression only, it looked as if he was involved. So I wasn't accusing him of anything he hadn't committed," Regulus said. After several long moments of silence, he continued, "But Pettigrew's not so bright, is he? And there isn't much chivalry or bravery. I wonder what the Sorting Hat saw to have sorted him into Gryffindor -"

          If only Turais knew, then he would have changed that trait in an instant and kicked Peter out of Gryffindor.

          "- And there was no loyalty to speak of either... But I suppose he had to end up somewhere," Regulus concluded.

          "Well, I'm sure - "

          Whatever Turais meant to say was cut off as Regulus gasped in excitement. Running towards the open windows that overlooked the Black Lake, Regulus said, "Look at that tentacle! It's gigantic! I wonder if it ever swims close enough to the castle for us to see from our rooms?"

          Turais laughed as Regulus ran further down the corridor for a better view. They wandered around the castle corridors looking for the best vantage point and finally settled at a stone bench that was directly next to a large, slightly concave mirror. It was facing towards the expansive view of the grounds, which begged the questions as to why it was positioned so oddly in the first place and for what reason.

          However, Turais and Regulus were glued to the brilliant scenery before them: the warmth of the rising sun behind the large puffs of white clouds, the gentle caress of the southerly breeze over the rustling trees, the distant larks of songbirds flying across the cloudy skies.

          They spent several minutes of companionable silence watching the giant squid swim lazily in the inky waters.

          "I still can't believe I'm at Hogwarts," Regulus breathed out reverently.

          "I'm glad you are here as well," Turais said as he patted Regulus on the head gently. He eyed the boy and decided that this was as good a time as any to broach the sensitive topic. "He didn't mean you miss your Sorting, Reggie. And I didn't either. But I'm terribly sorry, and I'm sure he is too."

          "I know… We all knew I was going to be in Slytherin. It wasn't anything spectacular," Regulus sighed as his shoulder slumped dejectedly. "But… but I just wanted you both to be there when it happened…."

          Turais's heart clenched as the rays of sunlight pierced through the blanket of clouds and shone directly onto the ground beneath. The mirror beside Turais started to shimmer as the collected light bounced off its silvery surface. However, it started to glow unnaturally brightly to the point that Turais had to shield his eyes as if he was staring into the sun itself.

          A few seconds later, however, the brightness subsided as a loud cheer erupted.

          "We are finally free!" James shouted out as he waved a small, brown journal in his hand. "After one whole night trapped in there! Wooohooo!"

          "Thank Hecate for small mercies," Sirius groaned as he slumped onto the ground. 

          "Sirius? James?" Turais gasped as the two boys suddenly realized they were in the company of two other Slytherins.

          "T...Turais...?" Sirius said weakly. "Reggie?"

          At the sight of his brother, Regulus's anger returned in full force. However, before he was about to lash out at his brother, both verbally and physically, his eyes flitted towards the bespectacled boy briefly. Clenching his jaw, Regulus vibrated with barely-contained rage as he remained rooted in place.

          After a tense second, he said, "Turais is in a boatload of trouble because of you, Sirius. I hope you are proud of yourself."

          Regulus turned around and walked away without another word.

          "Regulus," Turais called out, but the boy did not respond and continued on his way.

          Sirius asked in a spooked, shaky voice, "What did Reggie mean by you being in trouble?"

          "I..." Turais wrung his arms. There was no point in lying as Sirius would know sooner or later. He said, "I was caught by Dumbledore after you two left."

          "Back in the Restricted section?"

          Turais nodded.

          "What is your punishment?" Sirius asked, hiding his face behind a curtain of wavy hair. "A week of detention?"

          "Well, I am no longer Quidditch team captain, for one. I am also banned from playing in all Quidditch matches for the rest of the year in addition to detention until the Headmaster deems fit."

          James looked completely surprised and horrified at Turais's words. Sirius, on the other hand, nodded calmly as if he finally understood something. He slanted his eyes towards James, who winced involuntarily, "James?"

          "Yes?" James squeaked. For once, the air of self-confidence that was always on the boy's face fled him completely.

          "When we left the library, you told me to head off first. What happened afterwards?" Sirius questioned. "James?"

          "I... I... double-backed to the library... and -" James's eyes flitted towards Turais briefly before they were directed back to his feet. " - and I tripped the alarm again when I was trying to retrieve the journal..."

          "And that's how the Headmaster caught Turais," Sirius finished the sentence as he stared at James, who averted his gaze and nodded once.

          Sirius's hands had turned into tight fists as his entire body trembled. Meanwhile, James started to panic as his eyes flitted between the two brothers. Sounding completely sincere, James said pleadingly, "Turais, I swear… I... I didn't know... I didn't think -"

          "Shut up, James!" Sirius shouted hotly as his eyes flashed red. Then, he delivered a punch on James's face, knocking the boy onto the ground as the pair of glasses clattered onto the ground uselessly. Sirius then climbed onto the boy and delivered a couple more blows as James retaliated with kicks directed at Sirius's stomach. Finally, Turais separated the two of them by forcefully pulling Sirius away.

          "Stop this nonsense at once!" Turais shouted angrily at both boys. Sirius immediately tried for his wand, but Turais twisted the other boy's wrist and immobilized it.

          "What? Did you think that Dumbledore would not punish Turais? Huh?" Sirius roared at James. "Or did you just not think at all?"

          "I swear I didn't know the Headmaster would take away your captaincy!" James pleaded to Turais with his eyes squinting at their general direction.

          "What have I always told you?! Turais is off-limits! We never get Turais into trouble!" 

          "Sirius, I -" 

          "Turais helped us get away!" Sirius said as he tried to kick the other Gryffindor. "This is all your fault!" 

          "What do you mean?!" James spat, growing angry. "You can't blame me for everything that went wrong!"

          "I can! And I will!"

          The two second-years glared at each other angrily as they heaved. Suddenly, another voice interrupted them.

          "What is going on here?" Slughorn's voice sounded from nearby. Turais let go of Sirius at once as they sprang apart from each other. The Professor walked up to them, looking amply prepared to dole out punishments like sweets on Hallowe'en until he noticed that Turais was there.

           Freezing for a moment and making sure no one saw the commotion, Slughorn immediately pressed down his voice and hissed out, "Turais has enough on his plate without you two adding more to it! So, I will pretend I did not witness what just happened here because he simply cannot afford to be in any more trouble. The two of you, return to your common room at once!"

          Slughorn turned towards Turais and commanded, "To my office. Now!" Then, he started walking away, compelling Turais to follow.

          "This is not over," Turais jabbed his finger at the James. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that James was hiding something behind his back, Turais quickly intercepted his action by seizing James's arm and snatching the object.

          "Ow, ow, ow," James cried out as he rubbed his twisted wrist. However, Turais ignored him and examined the journal. It had a battered, leather-bound cover with yellowing, crinkling pages within. Flipping through the pages quickly, he noticed pages upon pages of barely legible handwriting. Looking at James dead in the eyes, Turais pointed at the journal that was currently in his possession and said, "Also, I am holding onto this."

          Whipping around to his brother, Turais continued, "Sirius! Get a grip on yourself! Violence does not solve any issues! I am very disappointed in you!"

          It seemed that both boys felt apologetic enough to look properly gutted. However, Turais could still sense the animosity simmering beneath the surface.

          "And if I hear that either of you raise even one single finger at each other, I will personally escort you to Professor McGonagall!"

          Casting a final warning glare, Turais ran off to rejoin Slughorn. The Professor seemed to be in a foul mood as they strolled down to the Slytherin dungeons in a tense silence. Once the door closed behind them, Slughorn immediately headed for the cabinet and pulled out his tea set and silverware. With a flick of his wand, the empty kettle filled up with water. Seconds later, it began to whistle as white steam started to rise from the swan-shaped snout.

          Turning around to place the set on the side table, the Professor finally noticed that Turais was still standing awkwardly by the door.

          "What are you doing just standing there?" Slughorn frowned. He waved a hand at the armchairs by the fireplace and said, "Take a seat."

          After serving him tea, Slughorn sunk into his chair and sighed with slight irritability. "Turais, my boy, why did you act so foolishly?"

          "I do apologize, Professor," Turais said, dipping his head.

          Slughorn waved away the gesture.

          "If you wish to peruse the stacks of the Forbidden Section, you needn't be so thoughtless when going about it," Slughorn admonished in a fraught manner. "I would have provided you with a permission slip if you'd just said the word!" The Professor swung the teapot agitatedly, almost causing a spill before he emptied the teacup in a single gulp and re-filled it. Looking at Turais, he lifted the teapot and asked, "More tea?"

          Turais gestured at his untouched cup and shook his head, but Slughorn was already busy swallowing his second cup of tea. Then, he placed down the china with a loud clang and started to pace around the room.

          "The Headmaster has acted unilaterally with your punishment and without any input from your Head of House, which is me. How... How discourteous! And you, Turais, should have known to not cross him, especially when you knew he refused your application for the Time-Turner while approving the Ravenclaw boy's!"

          The Professor suddenly realized that he had let crucial information slip from his tongue. He glanced at Turais and chuckled anxiously, "Well... I suppose it doesn't hurt to tell you this now, considering that the boy has decided not to renew his application for it this year... Not that it excused the Headmaster's previous decisions... And..."

          Slughorn stopped his own rambling and cleared his throat noisily.

          "Well... What I was trying to articulate is the notion that the Headmaster would seize any opportunity of your wrong-doings to amplify your mistakes and reduce your clout!" The Professor heaved a sigh before continuing, "You see, I have also grown quite fond of the idea of reclaiming the Quidditch Cup this year. What are we going to do without our star Seeker? And I find the idea of supervised detentions frankly ridiculous... Who would even be administering those? He does not have the time to supervise all those hours... which only means the task will fall to the rest of us eventually..."

          Turais sipped his tea and watched as the Head of House voiced out the grievances, seemingly forgetting that Turais was present. Feeling quite aggrieved and powerless himself, Turais found it oddly satisfying to see the sight of Slughorn's outward frustration on his behalf. 

          After around an hour, the older man seemed to have finally run out of things to say. He walked up to Turais and patted him on his shoulder encouragingly.

          "We will weather this together," Slughorn said, trying for a more cheerful tone. However, it ended up sounding like a regretful grimace.

          Turais nodded before taking his leave. Before he was even able to return to the Slytherin common room, he was ambushed by none other than the entire Quidditch team.

          "TURAIS BLACK!"

          The familiar voice of Carmichael Wilkins boomed from behind. Accompanying it was the hurried thumping of boots of the other members. Turais, already fearful of the ensuing conversation, grimaced as he turned around just in time for the older boy to seize him by the collar.

          Turais observed the widened eyes, flaring nostrils and twitching facial muscles that were inches away from his face with mild apprehension. He had never seen Michael that mad... ever.

          "BANNED!" Michael spat after a long moment of aphonic rage. "BANNED FROM QUIDDITCH! On the first day of school! What were you even thinking?!"

          "I... I'm sorry -"

          "I wanted you on the team! And as our captain!" Michael interrupted bitingly. Taken aback from the hostility, Turais stumbled backwards and felt his back pressing up against the stone-cold wall.

          "Well, that seems to be quite impossible now -"

          "Of course!" Pyrites snorted callously as the team continued to advance and crowded his space from all directions. "We've just lost our best chance at the Cup! Thanks to your lack of wit."

          "I don't know what to say except for sor-"

          Even Richard Harper, the gentlest soul on the team, joined the interrogation. "How did you manage to find yourself in this sort of trouble?"

          "I -"

          "Did you take the piss out of him or something?" 

          "What? No! -"

          "Then what possessed you?"

          "Nothing!"

          "Why did you even try to steal a book from the Restricted Section?!"

          "Well, I didn't!" Turais grunted out, momentarily forgetting all the questions that would follow. But at the admission, everyone's anger suddenly dissipated as if a switch had flipped.

          "What did I tell you, chaps?" Michael said with a hint of relieved vindication as he stepped back. "I knew Black would never do such a thing."

          The rest of the team also nodded at each other as if they had just confirmed something they were already in agreement with.

          "We have to talk to Slughorn. He is the only one who will stand up for us," Michael said. "All we need is Steward's -"

          Before he finished his sentence, a group of students rushed in from around the corner led by Jonty.

          "It's here!" Jonty panted out excitedly. "Just found it at the base of the West Tower! Bloody owls likely dropped it when they flew through the windows."

          "The -"

          "Yes! This is it, Wilkins! Come on!" Jonty interrupted Michael as someone uttered the password, "Bifurcus."

           Turais found himself ushered back into the common room until he was seated on a chair at one of the large study tables. Then, three students heaved up a long, paper-wrapped package and placed it onto the table with a dull, heavy thud. 

          "What is this?" Turais asked as he eyed the long, curved rod-like object with a large orb attached to one end.

          "A Secrecy Sensor!" someone gasped loudly.

          "How much did this cost you, Jonty?!" Turais gasped.

          "Much less than a broomstick. Besides, Flint, Urquhart, and a couple of others contributed a couple of coins as well," Jonty said with an insouciant wave of a hand.

          By now, the Slytherins who were straggling at the peripheries of the common room had congregated around the table. Turais's eyes surveyed the crowd and quickly found his mark. Flint merely quirked a brow before returning to a dispassionate frown while Urquhart gave a careless shrug. Jonty climbed onto the table, stood up, and picked up the probe with both hands. He announced, "So, this is what we need to prove our case!"

          While Turais appreciated Jonty's efforts and welcomed the distraction, he knew deep down that all of this was a futile exercise. However, the sight of the entire House united under one, the singular purpose of aiding him fight against the injustice, was a surprising and heart-warming sight. Therefore, he resolved to hold his tongue and watch everything unfold, if only to take in this harmonious scene for just a moment longer.

          "This probe can detect lies!" Jonty explained to the gathered crowd below. "We can show the Headmaster that Black did nothing wrong!"

          "First, we must ensure it works as advertised," Flint pointed out.

          "On it, sir!" Jonty said with a mock salute. "So… what are we waiting for then? Come on. Anyone. Say something!"

          Looking around, Flint suddenly gave the girl beside him - Stefanie Smethwyck - a push as she stumbled forward in the foreground. Confused and shy at being the centre of attention, she looked down at her feet and stammered slightly.

          "B... Black is... is... the top student of his class."

          The probe remained motionless, and after several seconds, Jonty gave a thumbs-up to indicate it was the truth.

          "That's the truth!" Jonty declared. "How about something false?"

          Another person moved towards the Sensor and said, "Black is a first-year student."

          The moment the sentence was complete, the Sensor started to vibrate violently. Surprised, Jonty almost lost his grip on the device before the vibration settled back to a resting pause.

          "Watch it, Steward!" Urquhart shouted from beneath the Sensor as Jonty gave a sheepish wave.

          "It's good enough for me," someone in the crowd said as several other members nodded in agreement.

          "Well, let's try it on Black now!"

          "Wait," Severus blurted out and said with slight incredulity, "You are not serious about this."

          "What do you mean?" asked Jonty with a frown.

          "You cannot make factual statements that everyone knows is true to test the validity of this... this... thing!"

          "Why not?" someone asked.

          "Yeah, why not?" another chimed in.

          Severus's jaw slacked as he looked around at the confused crowd. "Isn't it obvious? Because... How do we ensure that the person using the Sensor is not tampering with the results if we make statements that he knows to be true or false? No offense -" Severus spoke directly to Jonty, " - but you could have just pretended to shake the Sensor to make us believe it works."

          Turais could see the cogs turning in people's minds as most tried and failed to process the information.

          "Snape is correct," Alex said finally, "We need a different test."

          "Well, why don't I have a go then?" Pyrites cleared his throat and seized the receiving end of the Secrecy Sensor. At Jonty's nod, he shouted out, "I think Riley has the ugliest mug in the world -" The Sensor started to vibrate slightly, "- Well, maybe not the world - but definitely in Hogwarts."

          The probe fell still, which elicited a loud "Piss off!" from the offended Chaser and a ripple of laughter from the rest of the students.

          "I reckon it works perfectly," Pyrites said confidently, looking pleased.

          "No, it doesn't!" Severus gritted out with frustration. "What you just said proves nothing because it was an opinion, not a fact!"

          "Does it matter?" Harper asked, genuinely interested in the answer.

          Severus looked like his head was about to explode.

          "Does no one here care about logic?" Severus snapped.

          "Someone has his knickers in a twist..."

          "But Snape's point is that opinions are biased and may very well change," Alex explained. "So such statements will not validate the Sensor's accuracy."

          "Then what will?" someone shouted out with impatience.

          "We need a factual statement that Black can validate and that Steward doesn't know of."

          "This is too complicated," someone bemoaned.

          "Who can do that then?"

          "Why don't you ask the question, Alex?" Jonty said excitedly. "You must know something about Turais that none of us do!"

          "I..." Alex's eyes darted around in panic at all the attention that was suddenly focused solely on him.

          "Or, you could just think of the question in your mind," Jonty suggested, "It works as well!"

          "But that doesn't even make sense -" Severus tried to say, but his words were swiftly ignored by the rest.

          "Oh, Hecate, give me strength! Hand that thing over, Steward -"

          "Hands off!"

          As the crowd started to argue about the ownership of the Sensor, Severus moved away from the table with a hard push, stood up, and waded his way through the animated crowd. In the same manner, Turais slipped away after the boy without anyone noticing and joined the sulking Severus on the emerald, velvet pouffe tucked in the corner of the common room.

          Knocking his shoulder into Severus's, Turais comforted, "It's alright. Treat this as a bit of fun."

          "Fun?! Frustrating is what this is! I swear none of them have an ounce of logic in their veins!" Severus huffed as he waved his palm at the crowd before cupping his face and pouted.

          "I'm enjoying myself being the flâneur - or the people-watcher - so to speak," Turais winked. "Quite amusing, don't you think?"

          Severus gave Turais a mildly irritated, yet slightly impressed, look.

          "I marvel at how detached you are from the entire situation, considering that you are at the very core of it all."

          "One does eventually find a way to cling onto a modicum of sanity after spending too much time in the midst of chaos." 

          "You can say that, alright," Severus replied cynically.

          There was a loud shout of distress accompanied by sounds of metal tubes ringing as they fell onto the ground in pieces.

          "My Sensor!" Jonty wailed.

          "It's not your Sensor."

          "Well, so much for using that as proof," Severus muttered as the room descended into another round of heated arguments.

          Just then, Evelyn Napier strolled in with a scroll in his hand. At the sight of the crowd, he stopped dead in his steps and stared as if he could not comprehend what he was seeing. He blinked and shook his head before he spotted Turais.

          "From the Headmaster?" Turais said as Evelyn gave a quick pinch of lips. His attention, however, quickly returned to the unusually raucous display unfolding before him.

          "What in the blazes is happening?" The Prefect wondered out loud as Turais read the parchment. "For a moment, I thought I walked into the Gryffindor common room until I noticed all the green around me."

          "My detention starts in ten minutes," Turais groaned. Something told him that this detention would not end until late at night, and he did not even have time to go by the kitchen to get a bite.

          "At the Headmaster's Office?" Evelyn asked, and Turais nodded. Whistling in amazement, the older boy continued, "Even Malfoy did not have the honour of having the Headmaster's rapt attention for hours on end."

          "Well, I best head off if I am to make it on time," Turais mumbled as he stood up. "I will not give him another excuse to hand down another unwarranted punishment."

 

***

 

          Notified of his arrival beforehand, the stone gargoyle leapt out of Turais's way the moment he came into view. Climbing the spiral staircase centred around a stone Griffin, the door to the office opened before he could even knock. Turais walked in to see the Headmaster writing with a large, feathered quill.

          "Headmaster," Turais greeted stiffly.

          "Please take a seat," Dumbledore said without looking up from his tasks.

          Assuming the Headmaster meant the chair opposite to him, Turais sat down. Then, they fell into a dull silence except for the quiet whirring of equipment that was occasionally punctuated by a tap of the quill against the edge of the inkwell.

          Minutes passed, then hours, as Turais sat in utter boredom watching the tower of parchment on the left slowly transfer to the right sheet by sheet.

          "Professor." The Headmaster glanced at him impassively, as if he was utterly disinterested at what the boy had to say. Struggling to control his emotions, Turais continued, "It has been more than four hours since I stepped through your office door. I am wondering what is the purpose of my stay here?"

          "Would you rather be polishing silverware, Mr Black?"

          Turais had half a heart to shout out a "Yes!" but thought better of it.

          "No. But -"

          "Then I do not understand what is the issue that so concerns you."

          "I am merely pointing out that we can perhaps make an arrangement where we are both more productive -"

          "I do believe this is a detention and that dictate the terms of how it should be administered," Dumbledore said coldly. Giving a final look at Turais's speechless expression, the Headmaster turned his attention back to the task at hand.

          After yet an hour of utter boredom, Turais started to feel the rising hunger. As he adjusted himself in his seat, a silver platter of sandwiches materialized in front of him. This innocent gesture somehow offended Turais's sensibilities and his appetite fled in an instant despite a persistent clenching sensation in his stomach. He closed his eyes and released a long, steady breath as the minute hand continued its never-ending journey around the face of the clock.

          The radiant sun was replaced by the thin, crescent moon; the stellar lights were supplanted by luminous candelabras. Finally, Dumbledore seemed to have completed all the paperwork there was to do in all of Britain. As the older man placed down his quill and stood up, a tiny glimmer of hope sparked traitorously in Turais's mind. However, it was brutally extinguished as Dumbledore sat down once more as a large book appeared in front of him for him to write in.

          When the clock struck ten, Dumbledore finally cast another glance at the boy and commented, "Mr Black, is there anything you wish to tell me?"

          Turais held his gaze and simply said, "No."

          Dumbledore gave a wry smile and said, "Very well, then. You may now leave. I will see you at ten sharp tomorrow morning."

          "As you wish," Turais gritted out.

          Before he was able to leave the office, though, Dumbledore called out, "Do take care to return to your common room directly. I will be aware if you took any unnecessary detours."

          Turais neglected to respond as he slammed the door shut behind him.

 

***

 

          "Clearly, Dumbledore intends to let you know that he's watching your every move," Jonty said as Turais flopped onto his bed. "Portraits are everywhere, that's for sure."

          Turais nodded tiredly as Alex scratched his chin thoughtfully. But then, a loud protest from his tortured stomach reminded Turais that he had not eaten for the entire day. But before he could even try to explain, Alex took the plate of food on his bedside table and placed it on the bed next to Turais's face.

          "You're a lifesaver, Alex!" Turais gasped as he sat up immediately and began to wolf down the food.

          "Slow down. You are going to choke -" Turais coughed when a bit of bread was caught in his parched throat. Alex shook his head and chuckled indulgently before handing him a glass of water.

          "Thanks..." Turais managed to say with watering eyes as his breathing smoothed out.

          "And so, you sat there and did nothing for the entire time?" Alex asked, to which Turais nodded. "That was your detention?"

          "What's the point?" Jonty exclaimed.

          Turais pointed at Jonty, feeling vindicated. Quickly swallowing his mouthful of food, he exclaimed, "Exactly!"

          "Well..." Alex raised a finger and suggested softly, "Perhaps that is the point - doing nothing."

          "What?" Jonty scrunched his face in confusion.

          "I mean... what if Dumbledore's entire plan is to make sure Turais does nothing?"

          Turais could see the moment the idea clicked in Jonty's mind, leaving Turais all alone in the foggy haze. 

          "But why would Dumbledore do that?" Jonty asked immediately.

          Then, it was Alex's turn to gasp.

          "The Chamber of Secrets!" Alex turned to Turais and surmised correctly, "Dumbledore thinks you are trying to search for the Chamber of Secrets! It all makes sense now! Wilkins discovery of the Basilisk skin, you're a Parselmouth!" 

          "Are you searching for the Chamber of Secrets?" Jonty asked with a pointed glare.

          Turais huffed incredulously, "Of course not!"

          "Just making sure..." Jonty shrugged nonchalantly. He hummed and then mused, "Not that it's fair, but I can start to see why Dumbledore jumped to this unfortunate conclusion, though..."

          "Are you on his side or mine?" 

          "Of course yours," Jonty said placatingly, however, his tone changed as he continued on, "But the last time I checked, you are not the fabled prodigal Gryffindor son of House Shacklebolt whose arrival was prophesized by Tycho Dodonus and observed by star-gazing Centaurs. What you are, Turais -" Jonty loomed over Turais, his pupils dark and menacing, "- is a conniving, duplicitous Parselmouth Slytherin Heir of House Black that is putting up an act until you undoubtedly reveal your true nature!"

          Turais swallowed his bite of mashed potatoes uncomfortably as Jonty's gaze bored into his. Then, the tense moment was cut short as a hand smacked the side of Jonty's head.

          "Stop messing around, Jonty," Alex huffed as Jonty scratched his neck sheepishly.

          "Don't blame a fellow for trying to lighten things up a little, you grouch," Jonty said. He turned back to Turais and said, "All I'm trying to say is that people like you and I tend to try and remain as far away from anything remotely scandalous precisely because of the inherent prejudice and stigma." Before Turais could protest, Jonty continued quickly, "And once again, I think we have already established that you have an unfortunate attraction to these sticky situations, and you bet that those like Dumbledore would read into these coincidences and formulate their own biased conclusions. That's how all rumours start as well."

          "And surely, you know a thing or two about rumours and their destructive ends," Turais quipped. Expecting a sarcastic retort from the boy, what Turais received instead was a slightly horrified expression as if Jonty was reminded of something terrifying. Turais amended quickly, "I didn't mean to offend you -"

          Jonty shook his head slowly. Swallowing once, he gasped, "No, no. I was... just -" 

          His voice trailed off, clearly still disturbed by his own thoughts. Eyeing the two boys, Alex clapped his hands together and said diplomatically, "Well, the most important part is to clear Turais's name since he did not commit the crime... Come to think of it, I don't even think you've told the story in full yet."

          On Alex's face was a genuine, caring expression that hinted at disappointment, which made Turais feel horrible for not divulging the information earlier. 

          "Well, this is strictly between the three of us," Turais said sternly. Satisfied with the nods he received, he delved into the story.

          "That was not what I expected," Jonty admitted softly when Turais finished.

          Meanwhile, Alex crossed his arms and glared at a random spot on the wall. Even from across the aisle, Turais could feel the waves of anger and rage radiating from the silently fuming boy.

          "Sirius..." Alex growled. Jonty eyed the boy before nudging at Turais worryingly. But almost immediately, Alex's stormy expression cleared up as he smiled at them cheerily, "Let's head to bed now. We wouldn't want to miss the Quidditch trials tomorrow. At least you can watch for a while before you need to head to detention."

          "Oh, right!" Turais slapped his forehead in realization. "Michael will need to find a replacement Seeker as well."

          "Let him deal with that then," Alex said firmly. "Mister, you have yourself to worry about."

          Jonty and Turais eyed each other wearily again. Then, Turais finished his treacle tart before doing as told.

          Later that night, when everyone was sound asleep, Turais woke up and examined the journal he took from James under the dim light from the wand that he held between his teeth. From sketches of snake inscriptions along blank walls to the unusual magical signatures around the One-eyed witch, Turais flipped through pages among pages of an unnamed student who roamed the same hallways decades ago and chronicled the investigation of the castle grounds.

          Then, Turias’s gaze fell upon a particular entry that mentioned a large mirror on the fourth-floor corridor with a large, hidden room behind it. The author wrote that the room was only accessible if the mirror gathered enough light. Linking this information to this morning, Turais suddenly realized that this was entrance to one of the secret passageways leading out of Hogwarts.

          Without finding anything else worthy of investigation, Turais ended the Spell and fell into a troubled sleep.

 

***

 

          The first thing that Turais noticed the following day was that the curtains of Alex's bed were drawn back. The bed was made, and his pyjamas were folded neatly and placed by the pillows.

          Jonty was already dressed in his full Quidditch gears with his broom on his bed. Leaning against the bedpost with a book in his hand, he glanced up at Turais and wrinkled his nose in his usual show of slight disapproval at Turais's less-than-proper state. He then pointed at a ripped piece of parchment on the bedside table and remarked, "Alex left a note telling us to meet him at the pitch after breakfast."

          Letting out a wide yawn and stretching his arms, Turais said nasally, "Give me ten minutes to sort myself out, and we can head off."

 

***

 

          "Regulus is not here?" Turais asked as he peeked over the first-year's head into the room. It seemed that Regulus's bed was, indeed, vacant.

          "He's not," the boy repeated while tapping his index fingers together nervously. "I'm sorry."

          "Well, there is nothing worth apologizing here," Turais said. "Thank you for your help."

          The boy seemed gobsmacked at the response, but Turais didn't notice as he had already started to descend the stairs. The common room was unusually bustling today. Many of the students were also in their Quidditch gears with brand-new brooms in their arms. Turais spotted Jonty huddled with a group of students by the entrance, likely trading gossip. Noticing his arrival, Jonty wrapped up the conversation and shooed the others away.

          "Your brother is an early-riser today as well, it seems," Jonty hummed as they walked out into the dungeon corridors.

          "I have a feeling Alex is with him."

          "And whatever they’re doing, it is definitely not Quidditch-related," Jonty added. Something occurred to Turais and at the next junction, he split off from Jonty and started to walk in the other direction.

          "I'll meet you at the Pitch!" Turais shouted over his shoulder.

          "Where are you going?!" Jonty asked from behind.

          "The Gryffindor Tower!"

          "Why?!"

          However, Turais ignored the question and sprinted off.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-09-12

Chapter 59: Quidditch Quarrels (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here's a new update! I hope you enjoy it!

- ravenclawblues 2021-09-25

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

QUIDDITCH QUARRELS


 

September 3, 1972 (Sunday)

 

CROUCH TAPPED TO HEAD DMLE

by Andy Smudgley

Career Official Takes Rein Over Embattled Department

 

Bartemius Crouch Sr., currently the deputy head of the DMLE, is expected to take over the top job in the department in the coming days. In addition to his sterling reputation as a hard-liner defender of justice, his prominent role as one of the investigators that raised the alarm on the DMLE scandal earned him resounding support from the Ministry. Sources close to the Minister for Magic told our reporter that his appointment had already been approved. We have reached out to the Minister's office for confirmation but have not received a response before print.

The office's former occupant, Mr Ambrose Wilkins, and his wife were found dead in their residency under suspicious circumstances. According to our sources close to the investigation, Wilkins faced crippling financial debt that was unbeknownst to the department for almost a year. The Aurors do not believe their death was driven by financial woes, however, as their debt problem was paid off in full by a serendipitous discovery of a shed Basilisk skin at the outskirts of Hogwarts by their son, Carmichael Wilkins, months ago. Further probing into Mr Wilkins’s death revealed that he had placed the Head Auror, Mr Desmond Shafiq, under potion-induced mind control that had compromised the DMLE for months. The current thinking in the Aurors Office is that Mr Wilkins was secretly associated with the Knights - a domestic terrorist group - and linked to the series of murders earlier this year...

 

***

 

          Turais went in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower and started to climb the stairs. His deductions were ultimately proven flawless when he was attracted to the commotion he was searching for.

          "... tell the Headmaster today," Alex said sternly with his arms crossed.

          "Not today, Alex, but now!" Regulus said with one hand gripping onto Sirius's broom unyielding. "And take that other prat with you!"

          "I know!" Sirius said exasperatedly. "I promised you that I will do it later, Reggie!" 

          "I don't care! Now!" Regulus repeated firmly. 

          "But the Quidditch trials are starting up right now -"

          "You made a mistake. You pay for it," Regulus insisted.

          "Reggie, Sirius," Turais announced his presence as he approached the trio. Sirius looked visibly relieved at Turais's arrival; conversely, Regulus's expression darkened considerably.

          "Turais," Sirius pleaded. "I swear I will explain everything to Dumbledore this afternoon. But can you please tell Reggie to let me go to the trials?"

          It only took a single glance at Turais for Regulus to shout out, "No, Turais! You are not taking his side again!"

          Turais wrung his arms exasperatedly before speaking in a soft tone, attempting to mollify his youngest brother. "Reggie... Sirius made a promise already. Why don't we -"

          "No!" Regulus stomped his feet against the stone floor agitatedly. "I will not!"

          Sirius breathed out loudly, causing his hair to flutter slightly in the upwards draft.

          "Reggie, even Turais is letting me go to the trials!" Sirius argued. However, tears started to collect in Regulus's eyes. At the sight, Sirius gripped a fistful of hair and grunted in annoyance. As Regulus sniffed and rubbed his ever-reddening eyes, Sirius groaned, "Oh, not this! Please don't cry, Reggie!" However, that only served to prompt tears to start falling down Regulus's cheeks. "Reggie, why do you cry whenever -"

          Alex pulled Regulus by his side and patted him consolingly. Facing Sirius, he hissed warningly, "Sirius, can you stop talking for a moment?!"

          "Reggie," Turais said softly. He reached for Regulus, but his brother shrunk away from the touch and burrowed his face deeper into Alex's robes. Turais's heart clenched painfully at the unequivocal rejection. It felt as if an icy dagger was plunged into him and twisted mercilessly.

          "I'm sorry for missing your Sorting, Reggie," Sirius said with genuine regret in his voice. "I really am. But -" The distant clocktower struck eight as Sirius's eyes widened. "- I need to head off now!" With a parting glance at Regulus, Sirius shouted, "I'm sorry, Reggie!" before running off.

          "Don't talk to me," Regulus garbled wetly.

          "Reggie..." Turais tried again gently. He placed a hand on Regulus's shoulder and, despite a tiny flinch, Regulus did not shrug it off. "You know I care about you both deeply." Taking a pause, he continued, "I know you are still mad about your Sorting and that you want Sirius to understand how much you wanted us to share that special moment with you. I also know that you think I am cutting him too much slack, but of course, I do. Both Sirius and you, Reggie, are my brothers and -"

          "Alex," Regulus's muffled voice said. "Let's go."

          Alex gave Turais a helpless shrug with his wary expression mirroring Turais's. Then, they started walking with Turais trailing behind closely.

          As it turned out, Regulus's destination was the Quidditch Pitch as well. For the entire journey, Turais maintained a healthy distance from Regulus. Regulus, in return, elected to ignore Turais's presence and conversed only with Alex. And to Alex's merit, he seemed quite unfazed with the arrangement. It was only when he flashed Turais a quick, pained grimace over Regulus's head did Turais realize that the boy was mightily uncomfortable acting as the buffer between the two brothers.

          Finally, they reached the Pitch where the Quidditch team members and the sport's staunchest fans had already gathered. Once inside, Turais saw that the Gryffindor Quidditch trials were well underway as Chaser hopefuls streaked through the air over the Pitch amidst the cheers from their peers. He was sure that James was one amongst them. Casting his gaze further, he could see Michael standing amidst the sea of green uniforms as the Slytherins waited for their turn to use the Pitch for their trials. Bringing his attention back nearby, he could spot Sirius standing next to his friends as they gesticulated wildly while examining each other's brooms.

          "Jonty is up near the top of the stands," Alex pointed out. Except for a throng of giggling Gryffindor girls sitting several rows below Jonty, he was isolated from the rest of the spectators standing along the side of the Pitch. 

          Regulus immediately started to walk up the stairs, and Turais moved to follow. However, Alex reached out and stilled him. He tipped his head towards Sirius, who was standing in the distance, and Turais realized that Regulus’s presence had caught their other brother's attention as well. A concerned frown started to form on Sirius's face, but otherwise, he remained stationary. He later rejoined the conversation around him, albeit looking more subdued and distracted.

          They climbed the stairs and rejoined Regulus, who left space for Turais and Alex between Jonty and himself. Alex elected to sit beside Jonty as Turais sat next to his brother.

          "Took you both long enough," Jonty snarked while throwing Turais and Alex a wrapped, cold-cut sandwich each. "I brought these as I don't suppose you had time for a munch. Sorry, I didn't account for your brother."

          "No worries," Turais said. He handed the sandwich to Regulus and asked, "Do you want this, Regulus?"

          Regulus looked at the sandwich for a long moment, and just when Turais thought his brother was about to refuse it, a growl in Regulus's stomach broke his resolve.

          "We can share it," Regulus said softly.

          "Of course we can," Turais responded readily, allowing himself a small smile. As they munched on the food, Turais turned to ask Jonty, "You are trying out for Chaser, are you not?"

          "Yes," Jonty nodded. "My broom's down at the Pitch. But you know how long the Gryffindor trials typically last. I might as well sit here instead of making boring, small talk down there."

          Gryffindor drew the most students at the Quidditch trials every year without fail. This year was no exception and could be one of the largest Turais had ever witnessed.

          "It seems like the Headmaster had unwittingly done you a huge favour," Jonty said suddenly. Turais gave Jonty a tired, prompting glance, and he continued, "Do you know what diverts people's attention from a scandal? Another scandal. I noticed how no one was talking about your little misadventure over summer anymore during breakfast."

          "I'll take that you see it as a positive?" Turais asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

          "Well, would you rather talk about what happened at the Ministry this summer or Quidditch?" Jonty returned pointedly, to which Turais flinched at the mention of the Ministry. "Thought so."

          They turned their attention back to the continuing trial as MacGregor, the new Gryffindor team captain, called out the names of the eliminated players one after another.

          When there were only a handful of students left, MacGregor shouted the name, "Potter!"

          However, no figure descended from the group of students racing around the Pitch.

          "Potter!" MacGregor shouted again to no avail. "James Potter! Make your descent right now! Potter!"

          A wave of chuckles rippled through the crowd as MacGregor mounted his broom and chased after James, who evaded capture as they darted around the Pitch in an aerial game of cat-and-mouse.

          To his credit, James was an excellent flyer for his age, but MacGregor was superior in skills and experience. The captain eventually gained a firm grip of the tail of James's broom after several minutes. He said something to James, who looked surprised. Then, with an ecstatic nod, the younger boy followed the captain back to the Pitch ground obediently as a raucous wave of applause and whistles erupted from the thoroughly entertained spectators.

          "Potter…" MacGregor announced, sounding completely winded, "… Potter moves onto the third round."

          "James sure is revelling in all this attention," Alex noted, which elicited an uncharitable snort from Regulus. They watched the boy reciprocating high-fives from the other students. However, what was particularly notable to Turais was that James gave Sirius a wide berth as he made his way to the waiting area. Sirius also seemed to reciprocate the gesture in kind by looking everywhere but at the other boy.

          MacGregor blew the whistle as the round ended.

          "Longbottom. You're moving on as well. Congratulations. The rest of you, try again next year," the captain said. Frank Longbottom shook hands with his eliminated peers as they all made their descent. MacGregor flipped to a second sheet on his board and shouted, "Group Four Chasers, you're up."

          "There are four groups?" Turais gasped. Now, seeing Sirius waiting on the Pitch made sense as Turais knew his brother was also interested in the Chaser position.

          "There's just a lot of Gryffindors, I suppose," Jonty said simply.

         However, Turais had already turned his attention back to the Pitch. Seeing Sirius climb onto his Shooting Star 72 stirred something in Turais's heart as he patted Alex on the arm urgently and said, "Look, it's Sirius's turn."

          "I'm sure he will do well," Alex said, amused. 

          "Of course!" Turais huffed proudly, but then, he saw Sirius's opponents as they flew around the Pitch doing the drills in MacGregor's direction. His stomach did a flip, and then another. "Oh no, they're really good..."

          "We've both watched him fly before," Alex comforted. "He's excellent on a broom."

          "Oh... I don't know..." Turais said. His eyes were trained solely on Sirius as his brother made one successful pass after another. However, when Sirius missed a shot, Turais barely stifled a scream of despair. For the remainder of the round, Turais's entire body was taut with tension as he heard his pounding heart in his ear.

          Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, MacGregor signaled the end of the round, and subsequently, Turais's misery as well.

          "The two entering the third round are Engels and Black -"

          Turais did not pay attention to the rest of the sentence as he leapt out of his seat and started jumping up and down, shouting in absolute jubilation. It was only until he noticed the dirty looks thrown at him by the Gryffindor girls did he realize he and Regulus were hugging each other and acting like complete lunatics.

          Then, Regulus suddenly remembered that he was still mad at Sirius. He sat down immediately and fixed a deep scowl on his face, pretending valiantly that he was not cheering on his brother for the past few minutes. Alex and Jonty shared an amused expression, and Regulus shot them a deadly glare as if he was attempting to stare them into submission. Similarly, Turais cleared his throat and tugged at his robes as he tried to calm himself down.

          "Potter, Longbottom, Engels, Black," MacGregor called out. "Come on over for the final round."

          The four finalists walked towards the captain, which forced James and Sirius to walk next to each other. Their gazes met briefly before they both averted contact. After several steps, Turais watched as James deliberately knocked his shoulder into Sirius, who crashed into Longbottom beside him. Sirius murmured an apology to Longbottom before he glared at Potter's smug smile with vile and disgust.

          Alarms set off in Turais's mind as he sat up in rapt attention.

          "Don't do it, Sirius. Hold it in. Don't do it..." Turais whispered desperately. However, seconds later, Sirius stuck his broom out in front of James, causing the other boy to trip and flail his arms as he fell into Engels. Turais covered his face and moaned, "No... Sirius..."

          James straightened his robes and abandoned his broom on the grass. He then marched over to a gleeful Sirius and shoved him onto the ground with both hands. Sirius immediately grabbed James's legs and pulled him onto the ground. As they fought each other, a crowd consisting of primarily Gryffindors started to gather in a ring around them.

          "Potter! Black!" MacGregor bellowed as he pushed his way through the crowd. Pointing at the exit, he continued, "Out! You are both eliminated!"

          Both boys stopped their movements as they looked at the captain in shock. They clambered onto their feet and asked, "Why?!"

          "Petty fighting has no place on my team!"

          Sirius pointed at James and argued, "But he started it!"

          "You could have ignored him, Black," MacGregor replied unsympathetically. "Immaturity and stupidity have no place on my team either."

          "But -"

          "No buts!" MacGregor shouted with finality. "Out! The both of you!"

          Under the captain's watchful gaze, both boys picked up their brooms and walked off the pitch.

          The crowd dispersed as MacGregor announced the continuation of the trial. However, Turais did not pay much attention to it anymore. All he could feel was the part of him that was once filled with joy and pride now hollowing out and replaced by utter disappointment and shame. Numbly, he also detected a tense thrum of energy beside him that was on the cusp of a violent release.

          Turais wanted to run up to Sirius, seize his shoulders, and talk some sense into the boy. However, a glance at Regulus made him reconsider whether the action would destroy the fragile truce. Ultimately, Turais suppressed his urge and stayed put.

          "Longbottom is chosen as Chaser!" MacGregor declared finally as the spectators cheered. Once the applause died down, he continued, "With all the other positions filled, I would like to announce that the Gryffindor trials are closed."

          "Well," Jonty cleared his throat and stood up. "I will... uh... go down and prepare for the upcoming trial. Wish me luck!"

          He gave a stilted wave of the hand before walking off. A few seconds later, Regulus also stood up abruptly. As he turned to leave, Turais managed to grab Regulus's forearm.

          "Wait, where are you going?" he asked.

          "I am going to find Wilkins," Regulus replied stoically.

          "Why?"

          "To join the trials."

          "But first-years are -"

          "First-years are not allowed to own a broom, but they can try out for the team," Regulus snapped. "Yes, we both read the same letter. Now, can you let go of my arm?"

          "Reggie, I thought you said you weren't interested in joining the school team this year."

          "Well, I do now. Does that suit your fancy, or is this something - again - that only Sirius is allowed to mess up?"

          "That was not what I meant..." Turais was at a loss. He ultimately decided to let go and simply said, "Good luck."

          Regulus gave a single nod and a smile akin to a grimace before heading down to pitch at a determined pace. He watched as his youngest brother and Michael engaged in an animated discussion, likely debating the merits of a last-minute inclusion of a first-year in the upcoming trials when suddenly, a mop of brown hair popped up beside him.

          It was Remus.

          "Hey, Turais!" Remus said excitedly. He climbed down onto the seat next to him. "Do you know what happened to Sirius and James? I was coming back from the loo when I saw them just storming off."

          Turais gave an ambivalent shrug, but Remus didn't seem particularly fixated on the non-answer as he quickly segued into a different topic.

          "How was your summer -" Remus immediately pressed his lips together and grimaced at his slip of the tongue. After a quick glance at Turais nervously, he flitted his eyes towards the cloudy, overcast skies and said, "- I... uh... I mean - uh... the weather is quite... er... protective of us from the sun, isn't it?"

          Remus gave a nervous chuckle before he turned his face away. Turais could hear the Gryffindor mutter to himself, "That was so stupid, Remus," before turning back and pretending everything was perfectly normal.

          The boy's antics would have amused Turais if he was not preoccupied with thoughts on mending the rapidly deteriorating crisis between the three Black brothers. But then he realized that Remus had been talking to him and that he completely ignored the conversation.

          Looking at the expectant boy, Turais said, "Sorry, do you mind repeating what you said?"

          "Oh, I... uh..." Remus lifted a hand and whispered into Turais's ear, "... thank you for setting up the charity for the Wolfsbane Potions."

          "That's the least I can do."

          "But that's still more than most people care to attempt," Remus muttered.

          Turais pressed his voice down. Hinting at the approval of the Wolfsbane Potion, he asked, "Did you manage to try out the Potion formulation?"

          Remus's eyes sparkled excitedly, and gave an enthusiastic nod.

          "We -!" He gasped out loud before realizing that he had been too loud. He looked around in alarm. However, the Gryffindor girls seated in front of them had already left, and there was no longer anyone nearby.

          Remus then eyed Alex nervously, who took the cue.

          "I need to use the loo," Alex said with a casual smile. "Would you mind keeping Turais company for several minutes?"

          Remus nodded appreciatively. Once Alex was out of earshot, Remus sidled up next to Turais and whispered again, "We have a close family friend who is also a... -" the boy gestured at himself vaguely. Still, Turais understood that he was referring to his lycanthropy. Seeing Turais's nod, Remus continued, "- and he is quite adept with Potion-making himself. So he brewed a batch for both himself and me!"

          "And?"

          "And it worked!" Remus shouted animatedly. Then, he immediately held a fist to his mouth apologetically. "Sorry!" He squeaked and repeated, this time much more quietly, "And it worked. A gobletful a day for a whole week. By the third moon, my ma even let me stay in my own bed through the night!"

          "That's great to hear!" Turais said, mustering a weak grin as he reciprocated Remus's hug.

          "Yeah..." Remus said, but his expression started to turn somber. "But the ingredients are quite expensive, and I can see my ma and pa are worried that they cannot afford it..."

          "Do you have access to the Potion at Hogwarts?" Turais asked urgently.

          Remus nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, Professor Dumbledore told me that Professor Slughorn will brew the Potion, free of cost, during the school term. But there are the summer months... and also when I graduate..."

          "Well, don't worry about that now," Turais said as he ruffled Remus's hair. "You are only in your second year! Also, let me tell you a little secret..." Turais gestured Remus to lean in closer, "Damocles is helping me set up a shop at Diagon Alley. Hopefully, it will open around Easter time. Then, we can start to give out the brewed Potion at a much-discounted cost, with the subsidy from the Ministry."

          Remus looked at Turais with wide eyes that were glistening in awe and joy. Before he could comment more, however, Michael's voice boomed across the pitch.

          "Welcome to the Slytherin Quidditch trials. Today, we have two positions open for contesting: Chaser and Keeper -" Murmur erupted around the stands, likely discussing why the Seeker position was unavailable. Turais shifted in his seat uncomfortably as Michael pressed on with a louder voice, " - and the Chasers are up! "

          "But I thought that you were ba-" Remus caught himself and immediately glanced at Turais worriedly. However, the Slytherin had already stood up.

          "Please excuse me, Remus..." Turais said distractedly. He walked down to the pitch and past people who were blatantly pointing at and whispering about him. By the time he stopped next to Michael, Regulus and the other Chaser hopefuls were already in the air.

          "Michael," Turais greeted as the captain, whose eyes were glued to the skies, returned a grunt. "I want to ask you why you didn't announce the Se-"

          "Not now, Turais," Michael interrupted.

          "But -"

          "Later," Michael growled menacingly, clearly avoiding the conversation. Turais knew Michael could only postpone it for so long, so he let it slide for now as they both watched the prospective Quidditch team members in flight. Turais paid special attention to his brother, who was currently riding a battered, old school broom flying left and right jerkily as he tried, fumbled, and dropped any Quaffles that were sent his way. While the subpar broom had a definitive effect on the poor showing, this factor alone would not have led to such disastrous results if the rider had been more adept at his role.

          Michael's nostrils flared - a clear sign of unvoiced frustration - as he called the names of those who did not meet his expectation without mercy in rapid succession. 

          However, one name was notably absent.

          "Your brother... He's..."

          For one who did not usually mince words, Michael was trying very hard to formulate a proper sentence for what he was seeing.

          "He's completely rubbish at Chasing," Turais finished the rest of Michael's thought as Regulus dropped yet another Quaffle which Pyrites needed to pick up from the ground. The lack of outward antagonism against Regulus was merely more evidence that the entire team tolerated him because of his older brother.

          Michael grimaced. "Should I let him stay until the second round before I eliminate him?"

         "No," Turais said. "Do as you normally would."

         Although hesitant, Michael ultimately did as told. Pointing his wand at his throat, he said, "Black, you're out!"

         The smattering of whispers started in the stands as Regulus descended onto the pitch ground, thoroughly humiliated. Wordlessly, he stomped towards the equipment room.

         "Michael," Turais said as he placed a hand on the captain's shoulder. He waited until the captain turned to look at him before continuing firmly, "Please hold the Seeker's trial."

         "But Turais," Michael hissed. "There is still a chance that -"

         Turais shook his head.

         "There is a lot more talent out there besides me." At the boy's frown, Turais added sincerely, "Do me a favour, Michael, please." The older boy stared at Turais for a long while before he finally gave a complying nod. Turais squeezed Michael's shoulder and said a heartfelt "Thank you" before heading into the equipment room.

          In the musty, dust-filled room, Turais found Regulus in the far corner where all the school brooms were stashed thoughtlessly like a pile of firewood one would find in an unused shed.

          "Don't say anything," Regulus said, his back turned, as he stood the school broom against the wall.

          Turais crossed his arms and said bluntly, "Regulus, you're not Chaser material."

          "I believe the entire school will know that by sunrise tomorrow," Regulus replied dully.

          "Then why?" Turais pressed. "Why did you change your mind and try out for the position when you told me you were not confident in your abilities?"

          "Because I want to be able to tell that witless brother of ours that he is wrong!" Regulus said with increasing agitation. "That it was precisely due to his poor behaviour that he lost a spot on the Quidditch team! That he did not only ruin his chances but those around him as well... That..." Regulus paused as he wiped his nose with his sleeve, "...That I can also do what he does... That... That I am not just the bratty baby brother who only knows to... to... cry and complain whenever he feels wronged..."

          Turais gathered Regulus into his arms as he sobbed. 

          Finally, Regulus calmed down. Sniffing, he muttered, "Now everyone is just going to know of me as the useless brother."

          "No, they are not," Turais asserted. Regulus blinked in confusion as he continued, "After today, they will know how amazing you are and how proud I am of you." Before Regulus could ask a question, Turais stretched out his arm and said, "Accio Nimbus 1700."

          Seconds later, there were several audible shouts of confusion outside. Then, Regulus jumped backwards as a broomstick zapped through the tiny doorway directly into Turais's palm.

          "I am lending you this, Regulus," Turais said solemnly. "Ride my broom for the upcoming Seeker's trial."

          "S...Seeker's trial?" Regulus asked as he took the broomstick, looking completely bewildered.

          "Yes. The Seeker's trial. You are a natural Seeker like me, Regulus. Don't bury that talent." Placing a hand on his youngest brother's shoulder, Turais continued, "I have personal stakes in this as well. I would like to retaliate against the Headmaster for his unnecessarily harsh punishment. And there is no better way to tell him that banning me from Quidditch is a useless endeavour than to have my own brother take my place on the team."

          Regulus's eyes widened at Turais's words. Soon, a watery smile appeared on his face that was quickly followed by a confident, roguish smirk.

          "Then I cannot wait to see the Headmaster's reaction," Regulus said, to which Turais grinned as he patted down Regulus's hair and wiped away the drying tears on his cheeks.

          "Well, let's make you presentable before you go out there and send your opponents scrambling off with their tails between their legs."

 

***

 

          "Vanity, you're the new Keeper!" Michael shouted out. Turning around, he noted Turais's presence in surprise. "You're back."

          Then, he noticed Regulus and the broom he was holding. Michael's eyebrow shot up to his forehead as he grunted, "And you as well."

          "Just in time for the Seeker's trial?" Turais confirmed.

          Michael squinted his eyes at the two brothers, trying to figure out what was amiss. However, he gave up and repeated suspiciously, "Just in time for the Seeker's trial indeed."

          "Great!" Turais said as he clapped a hand on Regulus's shoulder. "My brother will be competing."

          Michael frowned. Directing the question to Turais, he asked, "Are you sure -"

          "I am sure," Regulus answered steadfastly. There was a determined glint in his eyes that Michael observed as well.

          "Very well," Michael nodded. Addressing the crowd, he shouted, "As announced a short while ago, we are now holding the Seeker's trial. All those wishing to participate must declare their intentions now!"

          Ultimately, Regulus was competing against four other students ranging from third- to seventh-year. Much like Turais's own trial in second-year, Michael had released nine Snitches in half the pitch with multiple Bludgers set to chase after the students.

          "The rules are simple. Whoever catches the most Snitches within fifteen minutes will become the next Seeker," Michael announced. "On my whistle."

          At the sound of the whistle, Regulus kicked off the pitch ground and quickly because a tiny, green speck high in the air. Seconds later, the enchanted Bludgers shot off and homed onto the Seeker hopefuls as they chased after the elusive Snitches that darted around in unpredictable patterns. 

          Turais watched as Regulus deftly dodged and rolled over Bludgers while never losing sight of his targets. His opponents, however, were mostly too preoccupied with evading the flying menaces to try and even hunt down the golden targets. Turais could see that every Snitch catch only served to increase Regulus's confidence. His performance as a Seeker compared to that during his Chaser's trial was like night and day. No one would have plausibly guessed that those performances were by the same person without knowing the truth.

          When it came time for Michael to announce the end of the trial, the result was not even in question.

          "Black, congratulations," Michael announced with a hint of amusement after Regulus revealed his four Snitches. No one else caught more than two.

          Ignoring Michael's outstretched hand, Regulus leapt directly into Turais's embrace.

          "I am now Seeker!" Regulus laughed in delight. "I made it onto the House team!"

          "Congratulations!" Turais said with equal amounts of exuberance. "And the youngest Seeker in a century!"

          "Really?" Regulus gasped.

          "I think so," Turais said, looking at Michael inquiringly.

          "That sounds reasonable," Michael nodded in affirmation. "I don't recall many making it onto the House team in their first year, and definitely not for the position of Seeker."

          "Well, I think the captain now wants to debrief the new members in the changing room," Turais said as Regulus released Turais from his hug. "You better not be there later than him."

          Regulus nodded earnestly as he rushed across the pitch, much to the amusement of the other Slytherin team members.

          After the Slytherin team members congratulated Turais one by one, he directed them all to the changing room. Hanging back in the mostly vacated pitch, Turais turned to face Michael. However, before he could ask his question in private, Michael spoke first.

          "I'm pleasantly surprised. Your brother seems like a different person altogether. He's not nearly as talented as you, but then again, not many people are."

          "But will he do?"

          "Yes, and quite well, if I'm to be completely honest."

          "I suppose I will not be missed," Turais faked a wounded expression, to which Michael merely responded with an unimpressed quirk of an eyebrow. Turais chuckled and said, "But I'm glad. Your words are music to my ears."

          Adopting a severe tone, Turais started again, "However, I have something else I would like to ask. How are you managing?"

          At the question, the captain's good-natured grin faded away.

          "I'm still breathing," he grunted out.

          "How about your two sisters?" Turais asked with concern. "Who is taking care of them while you are here?"

          "I take that you ignored Kaiden's letters completely," Michael said stoically. Turais scratched at the nape of his neck in embarrassment, but Michael did not seem to be admonishing him. With a sigh, the captain continued, "Although I am of age and technically their guardian, Dorea and Charlus had graciously offered to take care of them."

          "They are staying at the Potter House?" Turais asked, and Michael nodded in affirmation. 

          "And being taken care of better than they have ever been..." At Turais's hesitant expression, Michael shrugged, "As girls, my sisters were always mistreated by our parents. Not that they treated me much better... They weren’t good people, my parents, and it is what it is."

          They fell into a heavy silence as they walked up to the entrance of the changing room. Then, Michael stopped and placed a hand gently on the younger boy's shoulder.

          Turais looked up expectantly as Michael asked, "Now that your brother is made Seeker, what will you do next year? Or if your ban gets lifted before then?"

          Turais smiled softly and shook his head.

          "I'm afraid I have a confession to make, Michael. Quidditch is quite near and dear to my heart, but it is far from the most important thing in my life."

          Michael peered at Turais as if trying to detect whether Turais was lying or not. Finally, he gave Turais a small, understanding smile. He gave Turais a light squeeze on the shoulder with his hand before heading in. 

          In that brief, wordless exchange, Turais knew that Michael both respected and supported Turais's decision, whatever it was. The level of trust that the captain had shown left Turais quite touched and speechless. Knowing how competitive Michael was in Quidditch and how desperately Michael wanted Turais on his team only made the gesture even more impressive.

          Turais remained rooted at the spot as he stared at the empty doorway. Then, he allowed himself a small smile before he headed for the exit where Alex and Jonty were waiting.

          "What were you and Michael talking about?" Jonty asked as he shifted his broom from one arm to another. "Congratulations about Regulus, by the way."

          "Thanks," Turais grinned. "But we didn't talk about much. I'm sorry to hear that you were passed over again this year."

          "Well, I was hoping that nepotism would play an important factor, but I suppose it was not meant to be," Jonty said with a heavy sigh. Noticing that Turais was gaping at him incredulously, Jonty scrunched his face and said airily, "Relax, Turais. It was a joke."

          "It better be."

          Jonty tutted with a smirk.

          "Touchy."

          "Exactly like the Headmaster," Alex supplied. Suddenly, his eyes widened, remembering something, and he whipped around to face Turais. "Speaking of which, don't you have detent-"

          Turais gasped out loud.

          "I do!" Turais sprinted towards the castle, leaving Alex and Jonty alone on the path.

 

***

 

          By the time Turais reached the Headmaster's office, he was late by well over an hour. Gasping for air as he ascended the spiral staircase, Turais was catching his breath when he noticed the door was slightly ajar.

          From within, Turais could hear a familiar voice.

          "… I swear this is what happened, and my brother had nothing to do with it," Sirius explained in a pleading tone. "He was just trying to protect me from trouble. Please don't punish him."

          "Thank you for coming forward, Mr Black," Dumbledore replied gently. "This information naturally changes several matters… But perhaps it would be helpful to invite the person in question to join in the conversation as well?"

          "Uh… sure…?" Sirius said with confusion as the door opened completely and to reveal Turais's position. Seeing his brother, Sirius immediately turned around in panic with his eyes darting around frantically.

          "Professor," Turais greeted coolly as he walked in. He looked at his brother, who was still in his Quidditch robes with his broom tugged in his arm, and said with a warmer tone, "Sirius."

          However, the younger boy evaded Turais's gaze.

          "I apologize for being late, sir," Turais said with a dip of his head.

          Dumbledore peered at Turais through his half-moon spectacles and offered a thin-lipped smile.

          "It's understandable," Dumbledore said mildly, "When one is busy imposing themselves on the affairs of others, they tend not to have time to check their watch." 

          Turais tried to shrug off the snide comment and reminded himself to not aggravate the situation. However, he could not bite back his next words: "And I'm sure you have much to share on this particular subject, sir."

          The elderly wizard paused for a split moment, eyes narrowing, before he chuckled without a hint of warmth.

          "My dear boy, most tend to welcome my involvement," Dumbledore replied. "Especially those who have nothing to hide."

          "What noble people run in your circles. They must truly have the patience of saints."

          "I suppose like-minded individuals do seek out one another."

          "What a wonderful thought. If only that were to be true..."

          Turais and Dumbledore glared at each other silently while Sirius, who seemed completely spooked by the exchange, looked on. Dumbledore was the first to break eye contact as he turned his attention to Sirius.

          "So -" Sirius jumped when Dumbledore's voice boomed around the room, " - as you had undoubtedly heard outside the office door, your brother had brought to my attention what had transpired two nights ago."

          "Will I be punished?" Sirius squeaked.

          Dumbledore smiled warmly, which was a far cry from his icy reception directed at Turais.

          "No, you will not," Dumbledore told Sirius. "What you have just done was an act of bravery. We should celebrate honesty, not punish it. Mr Potter, on the other hand, will have to face harsher consequences should he decide not to come forward."

          Sirius gave Turais a brave smile, but at the sight of the Headmaster, Turais could not even will himself to reciprocate the gesture. 

          "So Turais can play Quidditch again?" Sirius asked, his voice filled with hope. Dumbledore raised his hand and Sirius's smile started to wane. "But... But I just explained that Turais was not trying to steal from the lib -"

          "No, no," Dumbledore said. "I merely wish to discuss this matter with your brother in private."

          "Oh... I see..." Sirius mumbled in embarrassment. "I will just wait for you, Turais... outside."

          Turais nodded. Once the door was closed behind Sirius, Dumbledore spoke again, "I see that I have made an error in judgement on this particular instance."

          "Only the latest of many," Turais retaliated.

          Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, but ignored the comment otherwise.

          "I will reinstate you as Slytherin Quidditch Team Captain and terminate your detentions, both effective immediately," Dumbledore said. Turais looked up in disbelief by the sudden turn of events, but he had an ill feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. And drop, it did, as the Headmaster continued, "However, the ban on your participation in Quidditch matches will remain in effect since it was due to an offense unrelated to this incident. Any complaints?" 

          Turais's heart sank. But instead of responding to the question, he asked stoically, "Is that all, sir?"

          Dumbledore nodded, "You may leave, Mr Black. And as always, be mindful of the portraits."

          Wordlessly, Turais exited the room. Outside in the corridor, he found Sirius pacing around anxiously. At the sight of Turais, Sirius dashed forward.

          "So?" Sirius asked, but Turais merely shook his head defeatedly and repeated what the Headmaster had told him.

          For the entire journey up to the Gryffindor common room, Sirius was unnaturally silent. Turais did not press him to speak, for he was also trying to process what had just happened. Before the last turn into the hallway of the Fat Lady’s portrait, Sirius stopped in his tracks. Turais turned around and saw the boy standing motionlessly.

          "I'm sorry, Turais..." Sirius mumbled wetly. "I'm really sorry."

          "Hush, Sirius," Turais said as he knelt down and held Sirius tightly. "It's alright."

          "I don't know what to do except to say sorry..." Then, Sirius snorted deprecatingly, "It seems like all I know how to do these days is say sorry..."

          "Don't say that about yourself, Sirius."

          "But all of this was because of me!" Sirius shouted. His face was now scrunched up, at the verge of tears.  "I promised Reggie I would fix it. I should fix it! I need to! But I can't! I don't know how!"

          "You've done everything within your power, Sirius. That's enough, and I'm proud of you," Turais said fiercely.

          However, Sirius did not seem to be listening to his argument as he continued to wallow.

          "Reggie is going to hate me... Actually, he already does... so he is just going to hate me more now."

          "Hate is a strong word, Sirius," Turais said. "Reggie doesn't hate you. He is just angry with you at the moment. But this will pass, and you will make up with one another."

          "You think so?"

          "I don't need to think. I know," Turais insisted. "Meet me at the Great Hall for supper, okay? We will work this out with Regulus together."

          "If he would even look at me, that is..." Sirius sniffed.

 

***

 

          "What's the point of letting you be the team captain if you are not allowed to play?!" Jonty shouted once Turais broke the news. "It's like an admiral if he cannot command a ship, or a general if he cannot command an army -"

          " - Or like you if you can't spread gossip. We get the analogy, Jonty," Alex interrupted helpfully as Jonty gave him a stink eye. "Again, maybe that's exactly the point. Dumbledore's concession effectively amounts to nothing substantial. He still gets what he wants, which is barring Turais from playing Quidditch, while showing others that he is reasonable and magnanimous."

          "But, you really need to control that fiery temper of yours, Turais," Jonty said, ignoring Alex's jab. "I have never met a Slytherin who has less self-control than you do when it comes choosing a proper time, venue, and target to argue with. Especially when the other side holds all the cards." 

          "I know," Turais muttered miserably.

          Jonty nudged Alex on the shoulder.

          "We ought to beat that devil Gryffindor spirit out of him someday, Alex."

          "You keep saying that," Alex replied blandly. "But if we haven't been able to do so before now, it is never going to happen."

          Jonty sighed and placed his hands behind his head. With a bit of wistfulness in his voice, he said, "Just when we managed to push Malfoy out into the back alley and forget him with the rest of the rubbish, here comes Dumbledore smashing down the front door..."

          "There's always going to be a Malfoy," Alex said pensively before he was rudely smacked on the back of the head. "What was that for?!"

          Jonty sighed, relaxing into his previous position as if the smack never happened.

          "You're absolutely correct, Alex, but also annoyingly so."

          "Go talk to Jane. She seems to put up with you - who knows why - but please make sure you keep your hands to yourself." Jonty smirked wolfishly and wiggled his eyebrows. Alex rolled his eyes and explained, "That's not what I meant - oh, nevermind -"

          They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes until Jonty suddenly released a small gasp. The other two boys looked as Jonty's expression turned thoughtful.

          "Oh no," Alex groaned aloud. "I know that look, and I don't like it."

          "Don't worry. I was merely pondering on your advice, and I think I will take it," Jonty said dismissively. Standing up and stretching out his legs, he reached for the door. "Now, if you would excuse me..."

          The boy walked out and shut the door behind him before Alex could even raise a question.

          "Where is he going?" Turais asked.

          "Looking for Jane, I reckon," Alex replied, his eyes still trained at the closed door. "They have been hanging about together quite frequently since last year... Hogsmeade Weekends and the likes..."

          Turais hummed at the revelation.

          "Well, back to your situation," Alex said. "Regulus is not going to take the news kindly."

          "I know... I'm dreading the conversation already... I initially thought that having Regulus at Hogwarts here would be wonderful, but instead, I find myself in this... this..."

          Turais could not even think of a word that could adequately describe his situation.

          "Hot mess," Alex supplied.

          "Hot mess, indeed," Turais nodded.

          "Honesty is the best policy," Alex said while Turais winced at the choice of word. "And hopefully, his anger will be directed towards the Headmaster instead..." He took another long, clear-eyed glance at Turais before he continued, "Come to think of it, I don't even reckon you are outraged by the outcome..."

          "No, I'm not," Turais admitted. "It is a relief, in a perverse way."

          Alex nodded as if he expected that answer.

          "This way, you've avoided another thorny issue... that is whether you should take back Regulus's Seeker position." Turais nodded. "This - in no way - precludes you from joining the Quidditch training, you know. Dumbledore only banned you from the matches, after all, not training."

          "I might join if only to spend more time with Reggie..."

          Alex swung his arm around Turais's shoulder and comforted, "It will all work out."

          "I swear I comforted Sirius this way not an hour ago," Turais said.

          "Sometimes, you just need someone else to remind you of what you already know."

          Turais gave his friend an appreciative smile.

          "Thank you, Alex."

          "Anytime."

 

***

 

          As Turais feared, Regulus did not appreciate the latest news. However, he had also reacted as Alex had predicted, so Turais counted it as a win.

          "He gets away with it yet again," Regulus grunted, speaking of Sirius's lack of punishment. "But what's new? I've heard stories, but to witness it in reality... And why would the Headmaster do that to you?!" Seizing Turais's forearm, Regulus said, "You must write to grandfather about this!"

          "I would've done so already if it was of any use, Reggie," Turais sighed. "The Headmaster is well within his rights to administer a student's punishment, and it is an indisputable fact that I, unwisely, mouthed him off. Also, our great-great-grandfather Phineas's portrait is in the Headmaster's office. He would've tipped them off already. If something is to be done, they are working on it."

          Regulus sat down in a huff with his arms crossed.

          "It's my third day here, and I already hate his guts. Is that usual?"

          "You are in good company, I assure you," Turais replied dryly.

          As they headed up to the Great Hall for supper, they crossed paths with Sirius. The three brothers froze in their positions, much to the annoyance of others that had to walk around them.

          "Hey, Turais," Sirius said weakly as his eyes flitted towards the youngest brother. Gulping heavily, he whispered, "Hey, Regulus." Regulus responded with a grunt without looking at him. Sirius blanched and scratched his arm awkwardly. "I... I'm just going to head off then..."

          Before Sirius could make a move, Turais said, "Sirius, let's sit together today. The three of us." Regulus pinched Turais's waist in protest, but Turais pressed on. "We haven't had a meal together in Hogwarts yet."

          "I'm not sure," Sirius said, glancing at Regulus again. "It might be best if I -"

          Anticipating the resistance from both sides, Turais said, "This is not a suggestion."

          "Well, I'm not sitting at the Gryffindor table," said Regulus at once. "I have enough Gryffindors wrecking havoc in my life as it is."

          With great reluctance, Sirius muttered, "I... I can sit at the Slytherin table, I suppose..." 

          "We are taking a plate of sandwiches and eating outside," Turais said firmly, ending all discussion.

          Once they were in the empty courtyard, Turais led his brothers to a bench where they sat down, one of each of his sides. 

          "Thanks," Sirius muttered as Turais handed him a roasted beef sandwich. Regulus responded with an equally sulky one as they settled into a stifling silence.

          Finally, after several minutes, Turais had enough. Addressing the Hippogriffs in the room, he asked, "So, Sirius, do you have anything to say to your brother about the Sorting?"

          At the question, Sirius stopped chewing mid-bite. Then, he swallowed the food in his mouth and cleared his throat, readying himself for a confrontation.

          "I know I've said this loads before, Regulus, and I don't know if you believe me, but I am sorry about missing it. And I am sorry for causing Turais to miss it as well."

          The words were met with a wall of silence. Turais looked at Regulus, who had stopped eating as well, and asked, "What do you have to say to Sirius's apology?"

          "It's fine..." Regulus muttered softly.

          "You're missing the most important word in that sentence," Turais prompted.

          Regulus closed his eyes and breathed out heavily. Then, he opened his eyes again. Training his eyes at the random patch of grass in front of him, he said, "I forgive you, Sirius."

          Sirius sat up and looked at his youngest brother earnestly.

          "Well, now say that again. But this time, look at your brother."

          Regulus grimaced, but ultimately he did as instructed. Meeting Sirius's gaze, Regulus repeated, "I forgive you, Sirius."

          Something in the atmosphere shifted dramatically, and soon the palpable tension dissipated. Sirius's lips curled into a delighted grin as he started to swing his legs.

          "See. That wasn't so bad." Turais said brightly as he bumped his shoulder into Regulus and Sirius. Sirius nodded happily as he took a giant bite of food. "And Reggie, do you want to tell your brother about the excellent news?"

          Regulus's eyes sparkled. Visibly trying hard to contain his excitement, he said calmly, "Well, I've been made Seeker -"

          Sirius's eyes snapped towards Regulus as he gasped out, "No way!"

          Regulus bit down on his lip, fighting to stop the private smile from forming, and silently nodded.

          "You must be - like, the youngest Seeker -"

          "In a century, yeah," Regulus finished.

          "Wilkins said he is a natural," Turais said proudly.

          Sirius reached over and pushed Regulus's shoulder happily. "I told you so eons ago! If only you listened..."

          "I suppose you were right about that," Regulus conceded quietly. Then, his voice turned even softer. "I saw what happened at your trial... you shouldn't have taken the bait, but Potter is a right prick who can use a transformation into a doxy."

          Sirius's face fell as he stared at his half-finished sandwich. He gulped, "I deserved it..."

          "But that doesn't change the fact that Potter is still a prick," Regulus said. "I still don't understand why you are friends with him in the first place."

          "He's not all that bad..." Sirius said weakly. "He treats his friends well -"

          "And see what that friendship has gotten you," Regulus quipped. "Also, he is downright terrible to everyone else. I would take this opportunity to distance myself from him, if I were you."

          Sirius fell into a troubled silence, and thankfully, Regulus dropped the subject as well. However, Sirius and Regulus had made up, and that was all Turais wanted and needed for now.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-09-25

Chapter 60: A Study of Friendship and Family (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I am posting a new update early because I will be quite busy later in the week. I hope you enjoy it!

- ravenclawblues 2021-10-06

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER SIXTY

A STUDY OF FRIENDSHIP AND FAMILY


 

October 31, 1972 (Tuesday)

 

PEVERELL ARTEFACTS UNCOVERED AT GODRIC'S HOLLOW

by Hestia Hersedona, History Correspondent

 

The sleepy, quaint town of Godric's Hollow had always had an outsized influence in the history of Wizarding Britain. As indicated by its namesake, it is the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of our times, also resided here as a child. Many other famous witches, wizards, and families throughout the ages can also trace their humble beginnings back to this place, including the legendary Peverells.

Despite centuries since the last person with this surname walked the earth, the Peverells continue to be one of the most widely-recognized names in Wizarding Britain and a constant fascination for those who studied history extensively. Their continued relevance is primarily accredited to the famous children's tale, written by Beedle the Bard, called The Tale of Three Brothers. For years, scholars had argued that the three brothers in the story alluded to the actual Peverell brothers: Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus, who lived in the 12th century. There is also a widespread belief that the three legendary objects mentioned in the story are real, and many have spent their entire lives searching for them. However, there has been no evidence to support that claim as no known artefacts or heirlooms of the Peverells had ever been found.

But these assumptions will be soon challenged by the recent discovery. 

The Potter family grounds were searched by the DMLE last summer due to claims that Fleamont Potter was sheltering criminals at his home at Godric's Hollow. The claims were ultimately proven false, and the charges against Deputy Head Auror Charlus Potter were dropped. However, the damages incurred from the scours by law enforcement remained. Therefore, while the family was repairing their home, they took the opportunity to conduct a major renovation of the wards and the manor. It was during the process that they discovered two items - a goblet and a pendant - buried at the edge of the manor grounds, each engraved with the Peverell coat of arms.

"We are ecstatic about [the find]," Fleamont Potter told our reporter. "The Peverells is such a legendary family, and to have something tangible that links our society to this obscure piece of our collective past is quite inspiring. [This discovery] also helps our family turn the page after a difficult, traumatic chapter of our lives. I have always considered myself an optimist, and this event reaffirms my faith that we can always turn something negative into a positive."

The earliest known mention of the Potter family name was documented in a letter correspondence between a wizard called Linfred "Potterer" of Stinchcombe and the Chief of the Wizard's Council (predecessor of the Wizengamot), Barberus Bragge, in the early 12th century. The letter was sent by Linfred notifying the Council of his intention to relocate his family to Godric's Hollow. This meant that the Potters likely lived alongside the Peverells for a period of time and might have known the Peverell brothers personally.

When asked about the Potter's ancestry and how it might be related to the Peverells, Mr Potter stayed mum about the details.

"I suppose the short answer is, I don't know," Mr Potter said. "Our family only started keeping annals since the 15th century. Any information beyond that period will require a great deal of effort to uncover, unfortunately."

 

***

 

          The news of Regulus becoming the new Slytherin Seeker circulated Hogwarts and, perhaps, contributed to the dour mood of one particular Gryffindor.

          "It's only a Seeker position," James dismissed loudly in the Great Hall, seemingly to no one in particular. However, everyone knew it was directed to a certain someone currently sitting at the Slytherin table. "What's the big deal?"

          "Sirius, don't -" Turais hissed as he reached across and pinned down his brother's arm onto the table.

          Sirius returned a look that could only mean, "Let me handle this." He put down his spoon and straightened his back, then proceeded to circle his arm around Regulus and jerked him into his side protectively. The sudden movement surprised Regulus, causing him to spill juice from the cup he was sipping from.

          Without turning around, Sirius shouted, "Our Regulus is only in his first year and is already on the house team. Now that is real talent, unlike someone who is full of hot air."

          "Unlike the Gryffindor team where all the talents are, your brother squared off against only - what - bumbling Bulstrode and reeky Creaty?" James retorted hotly. "Hardly ace competition, if you get my drift. Even our backup Seekers would have outflown him -"

          "Did someone talk? " Sirius mocked, putting his hand behind his ear and seemingly in search of a sound. "Oh, what did you say, Regulus? It's just a nobody? Oh, well, we can just tune him out then. I am much more interested in listening to what you, our current Seeker, has to say."

          "Oh no, don't drag me into this," Regulus muttered as he wiped his hands dry. He shot Sirius a withering glare, but the older boy didn't seem to notice.

          Behind them, James's expression turned stormy as his eyes flashed dangerously. He was about to shout out another retort when a quick double-tap on his shoulder prompted him to look up. One look at the stony, unamused expression of Professor McGonagall caused James to slam his jaws shut immediately.

          "I am heartened by the indisputable amount of faith you have displayed for your House team, Mr Potter," the Gryffindor Head of House said sternly as she adjusted her glasses. "After all, we are the defending champions for the Quidditch Cup. This, however, does not give you the right to disparage others and dismiss their hard work. Ten points from Gryffindor and detention for your indecorous remarks and continual lack of judgement."

          Sirius coughed his laugh into the bowl of cereal, causing milk to splatter everywhere.

          "Your manners are absolutely horrid, Sirius," Regulus snapped. "You are a wizard, not a slobbering hound eating out of a dog bowl."

          Sirius merely gave Regulus a lazy grin before making a point to abandon his spoon while slurping up his food noisily. The look of disgust on Regulus's face was comical, and it caused Turais to choke on his drink while he tried to stifle a laugh of his own. That, in turn, set Sirius off as he spat out a mouthful of milk to bark out in laughter.

          Perhaps unsurprisingly, Regulus looked both affronted and completely scandalized as his brothers reduced to a mad fit of giggles.

 

***

 

          While the issue between Sirius and Regulus was now solved, the drama between Sirius and James continued to fester with seemingly no end in sight.

          Despite Turais's hope that their bond would grow to become as strong as the one he always imagined, he could not bring himself to guide the reconciliation between the two boys actively - at least, not with the current bratty, obnoxious version of James.

          Several days later, Remus delivered the news that Dumbledore punished James and would personally oversee the detention himself. Turais and Sirius eyed each other, well aware of what that was about, but the rest of the school population buzzed with rumours about what James did to deserve his fate. Unfortunately, that seemed only to aggravate the situation.

          It was not that Turais cared much about James's well-deserved comeuppance, but his terrible behaviour started to affect those around him. And unsurprisingly, Sirius bore the brunt of it.

          The Black brothers were spending some time together in the school courtyard, chatting about their respective classes, when there was a loud commotion behind them.

          "Sirius Arcturus Black! You slimy, two-faced, back-stabbing snitch!" James roared, pushing some Hufflepuff first-years out of the way as he stormed towards Sirius. Remus and Peter trailed behind the bespectacled boy, looking tired and exasperated.

          Turais stood up at once and placed himself between the two boys. Turais said warningly, "Put that wand away, James."

          James snapped his gaze at Turais, then flitted his eyes towards the readied wand in Turais's folded hands before stuffing his mahogany wand into his robe pocket with a disgruntled huff.

          "Hiding behind your brother again, I see," James spat.

          "I don't see a problem with that. Especially when his friend proves to be unreliable," Turais replied calmly.

          James flushed at the insult. He turned to the silent boy and sneered mockingly, "So, you can't speak for yourself either?”

          "You -!" Sirius moved forward angrily, but Turais raised his hand to block Sirius's advancement.

          "You broke the school rules," Turais returned. "And so, you are rightfully punished for your actions -"

          "I would have gotten away with it. We -" James thrust his index finger at Sirius and glared, "- would have got away scot-free if you did not say anything -"

          "While letting me take the fall for your mistakes. How noble of you..." James flushed, and Turais continued coldly, "I would leave if I were you. And preferably, now."

          When James did not move to leave, Turais waggled the wand in his hand warningly. The other boy gulped and took a step backwards.

          "Let's go," James muttered, not meeting Turais's eyes as he gestured at Remus and Peter. While Peter immediately followed, Remus remained rooted on the spot. James paused and looked at him, confused. "Remus?"

          "I have something I want to talk to Turais about," Remus said awkwardly, staring down at the tips of his shoes. Then, the realization hit James as his expression turned sour.

          "You as well?!" James gasped angrily. "Fine! Don't let me stop you from joining the jolly gang of Slytherins! Have a nice life!" 

          "James..." Remus called out weakly, but James had already stormed off. Peter cast a backward glance before he rushed off as well. Looking crestfallen, Remus shuffled towards the bench and sat down next to Regulus, shoulders sagging.

          "Welcome to the dark side, I suppose," Regulus quipped dryly.

          Remus sighed in resignation but did not respond.

 

***

 

          Since that day, Remus also migrated to the Slytherin table during meals in the Great Hall, and none of the Slytherins batted an eyelash. This was true after Turais reigned supreme in the House. Still, ever since Lucius Malfoy left Hogwarts and the fanatic minority lost their most outspoken ringleader, any opposition simply melted away.

          "I had enough of him," Remus shrugged when asked. "It's like there's a permanent Tempest Jinx centred around him."

          Turais nodded understandingly, but he quickly turned his attention back to his brother.

          "Sirius, you must tell me what happened between you and James yesterday," Turais chided, but Sirius elected to ignore him. Instead, he chose to silently scowl at the sausage on his plate as if it had offended him by not performing a backflip or something equally ridiculous.

          There had been anecdotes from other Gryffindors that James had challenged Sirius to a duel, but other "witnesses" claimed that they hexed each other during the issuing of the challenge as well. Regardless of the numerous unreliable accounts, it was indisputable that both Sirius and James were punished by an irate Professor McGonagall, resulting in the overnight loss of a substantial amount of House points. Now, only a few scarce rubies sat idly at the bottom of the Gryffindor hourglass.

          Sirius refused to reveal what happened, but it was not for the lack of trying on Turais's part.

          "Just let him be," Regulus said with disinterest as he tore off a piece of bread. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't have to."

          Sirius looked up with a grateful smile while Turais spluttered.

          "But Reggie -"

          However, Regulus interrupted Turais's protest and cast a sideways glance at Sirius.

          "Also, my left eardrum asks me to thank you for keeping your mouth shut," Regulus continued. "And that it would be preferable if it stays this way permanently."

          That smile quickly flipped upside down as Sirius proceeded to impale the sausage with his fork multiple times. Turais gave Regulus a pointed look, for which he received an innocent, sweet smile in return.

 

***

 

          It was the first Quidditch training session of the year, and the Slytherin team was gathered in the changing room by the tunnel that led to the Quidditch Pitch as Michael finished his usual pre-training speech.

          In Regulus's arms was Sirius's Shooting Star 72, which the owner lent him as a long-term loan outside the Slytherin common room last night.

          "Merlin knows why I am doing this," Sirius grumbled as he held the broom out for Regulus to take. "Considering what I have to put up with constantl-"

          His words were cut short as Regulus jumped up and enveloped Sirius in a tight embrace. Sirius's expression softened as he hugged his brother back with equal force. 

          "Take care of it for me, will you?" Sirius muttered awkwardly once they broke apart. Regulus ran his fingers over the polished handle with fascination in his eyes, and Sirius continued, "If I find even the tiniest nick on it, I am taking whatever broom you buy next year."

          Regulus nodded enthusiastically, and Sirius ruffled his brother's hair with a fond smile on his face.

          "So we have two captains this year?" Cornfoot, the seventh-year Beater, asked in the present as he looked between Turais and Michael. "How is this going to work?"

          "Black -" Regulus sprang into attention at the mention of his family name, but Michael was actually referring to Turais, "- and I have come to an agreement that I will formally be the captain during matches and practices while he will act as my vice. However, he is a captain in every way but name. The old members already know this, of course. So, new members, I will expect that level of respect on the field from you. Am I understood?"

          "Yes!" the team shouted. Turais arched his eyebrow at the announcement. He turned to look at Michael, who was resolutely refusing to look back.

          "Then head out to the pitch for your warm-up!"

          Harper, the sixth-year Chaser, raised his hand and said, "Cap, I have one question before we start!"

          "What is it?"

          "Now that we have the two wonderfully talented Black brothers on our team," he said to a round of amused chuckles. "It might be confusing for us if you yell 'Black'  because we might not know who you are referring to, cap!"

          "That's a good point," Michael nodded as he glanced at Turais thoughtfully, "What do you usually call your brother? Junior?"

          "Oh, I know!" Harper said excitedly as if he had been holding his comments inside him for a long time. "Blacklet!"

          "Squirt?"

          As the discussion continued, Turais pulled Michael aside and whispered, "When have we come to this mutual agreement that I have never heard about until now?"

          "Well, you were supposed to be captain, and I am not letting you worm out of your duties," Michael explained.

          Turais huffed out a chuckle and shook his head incredulously.

          "You sneaky bastard," Turais jested. Michael gave a self-satisfied smirk before they returned to the animated conversation.

          "Bubs?"

          "Baby Black sounds great!"

          "Turais Little?"

          Turais glanced at his brother, who looked like a picture of calm and serenity. However, Turais could see the tense twitch of Regulus's facial muscles expression as he clenched his teeth tightly. Knowing the boy, he was currently stricken with horror and suffering silently.

          Turais clapped his hands together, and the discussion died down. He then shouted, "I'm sure we can come up with something, but first thing's first - warm-up laps!"

          Regulus watched on hesitantly as the rest of the team rushed into the Pitch, unsure if he should follow. Taking advantage of the distraction, Turais snuck up behind Regulus and smacked him on the shoulder lightly. Hissing quietly, Regulus glanced backward to see Turais's playful expression.

          "Tag, you're it," Turais whispered. He sprinted off before Regulus could even process what just happened.

          Once in the open field, Turais immediately climbed onto his broom as he heard Regulus's shout behind him. He shot into the air, enjoying how the cool air brushed his face as he darted across the sky.

          "Woo...hooo...! " Turais shouted happily. Hearing the flap of robes behind him, he tilted his broomstick handle back slightly and allowed his brother to catch up as they made their way around the Pitch together.

          They were finishing the second lap when, suddenly, Michael's magically amplified voice echoed around the Pitch, "The Snitch is released!"

          Seconds later, Turais and Regulus caught a glimpse of gold below them. They turned to grin at each other at the same time. With a confident smirk, Turais snapped down his goggles and waved at Regulus. Immediately, he pointed his broom towards the ground and plunged downwards vertically. The metallic fluttering of wings filled his senses as he honed in on it and gave chase. Seconds later, Turais spotted the snitch through his squinting eyes as it flew in an irregular, unpredictable pattern. He reached his arm out, trying to seal the victory, when a large shadow loomed over him.

          He spared a glance upwards and saw Regulus descending rapidly with his outstretched arm in front of him. Seemingly not noticing Turais's presence, Regulus would have collided with Turais if the older boy had not twirled off slightly to the side just in time to give Regulus some space to level off. Shoulder-to-shoulder, they sped after the elusive target.

          Turais noticed that Regulus's focus was solely on the snitch. He reached as far in front as possible, but the snitch remained just out of his reach. Frustrated, Regulus bit down on his lip and leaned forward with all his might to gain the extra speed. However, in his haste to catch the Snitch, Regulus did not notice that he was headed straight for the goalposts ahead.

          "Reggie, watch out!" Turais warned. Regulus's eyes glanced at the large hoops, momentarily surprised, and evaded the metal rings before training his sight on the snitch once again without any sign of slowing.

          Something about Regulus's aggressive style of play unnerved Turais greatly, prompting him to immediately move in and capture the snitch. With a fluid swipe of his arm, he palmed the struggling ball as Regulus pouted in disappointment.

          "Turais!" Regulus whined. "It's my first day. You should go easy on me!"

          "There's no such thing as 'going easy' during a competition," Turais said with a smirk.

          "But you had a head start!"

          Turais shook his head as they flew back towards the centre of the Pitch. During the short journey back, he replayed the images of the pursuit in his mind, and a sense of unease settled in his stomach. Glancing at Regulus, Turais managed to convince himself it was a one-off incident and shrugged it off.

          "So, who caught the Snitch?" Harper asked curiously as they landed.

          "I did," Turais said with an easy smile as he threw the idle snitch back to Michael. Swinging his arm around Regulus, he said, "But he gave me a run for my Gold."

          "Well, with the best Seeker in Hogwarts's history giving you private lessons, I'm sure you will be in tip-top shape in no time," Harper told Regulus encouragingly.

          The players split up to their respective drills, and Michael stopped Turais as he was gathering the materials for Regulus's Seeker drills.

          "Take this instead," the captain said as he lobbed a Quaffle at Turais. Turais was about to ask why when Michael said, "Sometimes, lessons are better learnt if they are taught by those they are not familiar with. There are just fewer emotions mixed in."

          Turais tossed the scarlet ball between his hands and did not answer.

          "You do trust me as a Seeker coach, right?" Michael asked with a hint of amusement. "I have taught at Quidditch summer camps for years, you know. Not that I had much of a chance to showcase it in front of you."

          Turais looked up and nodded. As the captain climbed onto his broom, Turais blurted out, "Try not to be too hard on him."

          Michael chuckled and flew off to join Regulus. Turais flew the opposite direction to join the rest of the team, placing decoy players as he rose into the air.

          "Well, well, well. Look who's joining us today," Vanity, the new Keeper recruit, remarked wryly as the players turned to look at the vice-captain. Pointing at the Quaffle, he quipped, "Thought you are a Snitch-exclusive person, Black. Do you even know what that thing you're holding is?"

          Pyrites, Riley, and Harper - all Chasers from previous years who knew perfectly what Turais was capable of - frowned at the dismissive tone. 

          Turais quirked an eyebrow before throwing the ball high in the air. He reached his arm out and caught it with the back of his hand. The Quaffle rolled down his right arm, behind his neck, and up to his left arm. Then, he let it drop and juggled it on his knees a few times before launching it up into the air and catching it in a neck stall.

          Turais palmed the Quaffle and hurled it at Vanity, who was still in a daze from the spectacle. The Keeper belatedly noticed the fast-incoming Quaffle and fumbled with the receive, causing him to drop the ball onto the grassy lawns far below them.

          "Oh, I think I'm familiar enough with it," Turais said airily. "And you, I reckon, can learn a thing or two from me about Keeping."

          The Chasers sniggered as Vanity's cheeks burnt in shame, and he remained in that state for the rest of training.

 

***

 

          There was a familiar, warning hoot as a Great Horn Rimmed Owl separated from its peers and landed onto the Slytherin table with magnificent flaps of its wings.

          "Noctus!" Regulus greeted the family owl warmly. At the gentle pat on its head, the owl ruffled its feathers and lifted its leg steadily towards Turais.

          As Turais untied the letter, he spotted Orion's handwriting in solid silver ink on the emerald green envelope.

          "It's a letter from Father!" Turais said excitedly. Regulus immediately jumped onto his feet and made his way around the Slytherin table. Sirius pushed the plates of food aside and cleared space for him to climb over, much to the consternation of the Slytherins nearby. Sirius accidentally knocked down a jug of pumpkin juice with the robes trailing behind him. However, Turais's quick reflex was enough to steady it before it spilt.

          "Careful, Sirius!" Turais admonished as Sirius leapt off the table.

          Regulus managed to squeeze himself between his older brothers just as Turais cracked open the wax seal and pulled out the beige, wove paper with the Black family crest engraved at the top.

My dear son Turais,

I am writing you this letter with the unadventurous presumption that your brothers will be huddled around you reading every word as well.

Firstly, I would like to acknowledge that the news of your recent encounters with the Headmaster had made its way through the portrait vines and into our ears, with the messenger being none other than the former Headmaster and our famed ancestor, Phineas Nigellus Black. To say that your grandfather and I were displeased by the biased treatment against you would be a grand understatement. Please note that we are exploring every option to punish the Headmaster for his actions, however, this task will prove to be difficult even with our increased political standing. And while discovering that you have kept this important piece of information from your homebound letters is not entirely unexpected, it remains woefully inconsiderate and immature on your part to try and handle the matter yourself without our involvement.

We are your family and, despite all our differences, we take care of one another in times of need. Bear that in mind when you unavoidably have another unpleasant encounter with the Headmaster or the law enforcement.

Secondly, I would like to extend the warmest congratulations to my youngest, Regulus, for becoming Slytherin's newest Seeker. You have not only followed your brother's great example but have also managed to excel in ways unimaginable. I would be remiss if I failed to mention that Kreacher was most delighted by the news, and that it was he who first informed me that you are the youngest Seeker since one of our ancestors, a Marius Black five generations before yours, became Seeker on his first year of study exactly one-hundred-and-two years ago. I searched the Black family annals and can confirm it to be true.

While I was most eager and visited Diagon Alley for their newest broom selection, I was reminded by the shopkeeper that first-years are not allowed to own a broom. Rest assured that we will be visiting the shop the day you alight the train in summer. Before then, I am sure that one of your brothers will be willing to lend you theirs in the meantime.

Thirdly, I would like to advise our own resident poltergeist that he should take some time to reflect on his errors and on a particularly wicked influence in his life. If his plan is to accelerate the greying of my hair by continuing his interactions with said wicked influence after what had transpired, then I would like to inform him that his point had been sufficiently proven in the past and that my hair is greying expeditiously enough without his contribution.

And as a parting note, I would also like to remind Sirius that it is long overdue for you to write to the old man with greying whiskers who lives at your address, also commonly known as your Father. And yes, he is the very same person who penned this letter, lest you forget.

Best wishes,

Your Father

          "I told you to write home about your unfair punishments, Turais," Regulus said righteously. Turning to Sirius, he continued, "And even Father is telling you to keep away from Potter! I told you so!"

          "Yeah, yeah, whatever," Sirius muttered as he took a sip out of Turais's cup.

          "There, there," Turais said warningly. "Reggie, stop being so sharp with your words. And Sirius, stop riling up your brother."

          The two younger brothers eyed each other before looking at Turais and nodding. Taking a glance at his watch, Turais stretched out his back and announced, "Well, I best head off to Ancient Runes, then."

          "Have fun with Pierricoeur," Jonty called out from somewhere down the table, but Turais ignored the jab and waved his brothers goodbye, which they reciprocated in kind. With a grin on his face, he walked off.

          "Hello, class," Bodrick Mather, the Ancient Runes professor, greeted once class started. On each of the student's desks was a warded chest, as per usual for their practical sessions. "Today, I have a challenge that would seem impossible to solve for most of you. However, I guarantee that you have all the tools required to tackle the problem. Now, carry on."

          A chorus of "Runa Revelio" started around the room as Turais examined the box in front of him. As was common with heavily warded objects, he noticed that there was a blue glow as bursts of protective runic alphabets appeared under his watchful gaze and swirled around the chest. The difference between this object and those they have studied before was the intricacies of the warding patterns and the complex interlacing of runic layers.

           Nodes - concentrated points of runes that acted as anchors - were usually the weakest spots in a ward and the first to be tackled when dismantling. However, the nodes on the outermost layer, Turais immediately discovered, were embedded beneath an inner layer of runes. But the nodes of the second layer were, in turn, shielded by the first layer.

          "Any thoughts?" Turais asked Pierricoeur beside him.

          "Well, you're the expert. Are you not?" The Ravenclaw replied curtly, but not unkindly, as he rotated the object in the air while consulting his notes. "I see a key-and-lock pattern between a secondary cis-heptagram exterior layer... and the trans-hexagram mid-layer... The base ward is the usual tetrahedral arrangement, but there is an oddity in the pattern that I do not recognize..." 

          Pierricoeur continued to mutter to himself, but Turais got lost in all the technical terms. He decided to probe at the ward randomly. There were no reactions anywhere except for a specific point directly above the object. As the wand tip grazed the ward, there was a jolt of energy that travelled up Turais's wand and caused his fingers to tingle.

          "Having trouble, Mr Black?" Mather asked as he walked up to their desks. "You as well, Mr Pierricoeur?"

          "Yes," Turais admitted. The other boy nodded silently in response.

          "I suppose I have achieved what I had set out to do then," he smiled. "Anything unusual about this object that you can tell me?"

          "Well..." Pierricoeur started to recite everything he knew when, suddenly, a thought occurred to Turais.

          "But... all the runes are in their regular form... not inverted..." Turais breathed out, interrupting Pierricoeur's speech. "Turais immediately took a closer look at the object and observed the runic alphabets streaming in and out of existence. "Two Thurisaz running parallel, intersecting in an acute angle with three Hagalaz and inflecting at the nodes of Uruz..."

          "This is not a warded object," Turais gasped. "It is cursed."

          "Indeed, you have discovered the crux of the problem," Mather nodded approvingly. "Ten points to Slytherin. Now, how will you go about tackling it?"

          Pierricoeur started to perform intricate wand movements around the object as he prodded and untangled the layers of runes. Meanwhile, Turais had another thought in mind.

          "Protego," Turais said as he circled the object with a Shield charm. Then, he aimed his wand directly at the top of the object where the burst of energy originated. He uttered, "Expulso! "

          The chest shuddered but remained firmly on the desk surface. However, the entire runic shield sprang apart, sending a large zap of energy towards Turais, colliding against the Shield charm harmlessly. As Turais recovered from the surprise attack, Pierricoeur let out a satisfied exclamation after successfully dismantling the curse on his box.

          "Very interesting, indeed," Mather commented, his eyes flitted between the two boys. "Ten points apiece to Slytherin and Ravenclaw, the former for finishing the task first and the latter for impeccable charmswork."

          The Professor walked away, and Pierricoeur immediately asked, "How did you figure out that it was a curse?"

          "It was just an intuitive guess," Turais shrugged. "I mean, you pretty much described all the technicalities of a cursed object yourself."

          "And I still can't believe you just blasted an Expulso Curse at this thing! And it worked!"

          "Well, curses are meant to be triggered," Turais explained. "So that was the first thing I tried. Mind you. I did it only because I trusted the Professor to place something tame as a curse. Your method is much more preferable and less volatile."

          Pierricoeur remained crotchety for the remainder of the class, perhaps miffed that he was outshone by Turais yet again. But unlike previous years, Turais knew that the boy was not about to lash out at him at any given moment.

          When the class was over, Turais was packing his bag when Mather called out, "Mr Black, can I speak with you for a moment?"

          "Yes, Professor?" Turais said as he walked to the front of the room.

          "I merely wished to ask if there were any issues between you and Mr Pierricoeur."

          "No, there isn't," Turais replied quickly. "We had come to an understanding last year, and I think we have a functional working relationship now."

          "Good, good," Mather said with an approving nod. "It would be unfortunate to witness a regression in this... scholastic friendly rivalry and for my peace of mind."

          "And Professor," Turais asked. "Would you mind me asking what you found interesting when he and I solved the challenge?"

          Mather gave an enigmatic smile before he explained, "Well, there is a delightful little rhyme when it comes to Curse-Breaking." He tapped his wand on the chalkboard as a piece of chalk started to write in a looping, cursive font across the dark surface.

          There was a witch whose name was Brie,

          She taught to break curse in ways three.

          Slice the points and seize the nodes,

          Curses against the Wizards' codes,

          Or blast it apart and head for tea.

          "This limerick alludes to the three main approaches to Curse-Breaking. The third line, 'slice the points and seize the nodes,' refers to a technical, systematic dismantling of the curse. It is the safest, most controlled, and most commonly used method in Curse-Breaking. It is also the method Mr Pierricoeur used. The fourth line is quite self-explanatory. Nothing, not even cursed objects, can mount a defense against the Unforgivables. And once the object is destroyed, so goes the curse, naturally," Mather said. "Highly unrecommended and quite impractical, considering most people break curses because they want to access the object itself.

          "The third and final method is to – simply - blast the curse apart. It is also the one you opted to attempt, Mr Black," Mather continued. "While this brute-force strategy leaves the object intact, it does not defuse the curse. Instead, the curse is sprung against the caster in full force as it is destroyed. So, it was very wise of you to have erected a Shield Charm before your attempt. Or else, you would have suffered from a rather unpleasant Stinging Hex directed at your face."

          "So, are you suggesting that I should abandon my approach and adopt the first one?" Turais asked.

          "Well, let me first explain," replied Mather patiently. "Besides the backlash of the curse, there is another deterrent to using this method."

          "And what is that?"

          "Raw magical power," Mather said simply with a lingering gaze on Turais's face. "It is something most people lack, but certainly not in your case, Mr Black. I always like to describe curses as conceited, self-absorbed. Curses - they like to seek out weaknesses and pounce on their victims deceptively. However, in the face of their superiors, they collapse in a spectacular fashion. But not without a fight, as you have just experienced."

          "So, do you mean that with sufficient magical power, any cursed object could be neutralized?"

          "That is the theory," Mather answered. "But you must also be able to strike at the curse's most vulnerable spot with that power. However, finding that spot and accessing it is a grand challenge of its own. So it is easier said than done in the real world."

          Turais hummed in consideration. He managed to get through life the first time around, blessed with unusually strong magical powers. Now, after taking classes that taught him the intricacies of magic theories and wand movements, he realized that in the eyes of other skilled wizards and witches, he was just a brutish man brandishing his wand and forcing magic without focus or purpose.

          "I... I suppose I should learn to do it the proper way then," Turais said, glancing at the wand clutched in his palm. "I cannot rely on power alone. It cannot solve every problem I encounter." 

          "You are very wise, Mr Black," Mather said. Then, he turned around and started to wipe the chalkboard clean. "I have observed you and noticed that you lacked a certain finesse and precision in your spellwork, which is quite unlike your neighbour who excels in those metrics. However, I would not worry about feeling inferior to him if that is what concerns you. While you can improve on those skills with time and training, Mr Pierricoeur will never be able to 'learn' power. So, I would much rather be you than him in this case."

          "I... I see," Turais said, not sure how he should feel about the information.

          "You are always welcome to find me outside of class and practice your techniques with me," Mather offered. "I know a promising talent when I see one, and I am always willing to help those who wish to learn."

          "Thank you," Turais said gratefully. "I think I will take you up on this offer."

          "Find me in my office Friday evening after dinner then. I trust you know the way?"

          Having been there once before, Turais nodded. "Yes, I will see you then."

 

***

 

          "Enter," Mather's muffled voice sounded through the door after Turais knocked on the door. Opening it, Turais's eyes were immediately drawn to the orrery that offered a warm, golden glow throughout the room. It was as beautiful as he remembered from his last visit.

          "Professor," Turais greeted without taking his eyes off the magnificent instrument that also acted as a light source.

          He could hear a light chuckle as Mather said amusedly, "I suppose I should start charging a fee to try and recuperate the amount of Gold it cost me to purchase this."

          Turais flushed slightly and looked away with a conscious effort. He sat down on the seat opposite of the Professor, who waved his wand and levitated ten marbles onto a desk several feet away from them. They lined up in a straight row, and Turais turned to look at the Professor questioningly.

          "I will only levitate the third marble from the left," Mather stated. He pointed his wand at the candles and said, "Wingardium Leviosa."

          A tiny spark shot out of the older man's wand and, with a pop, the targeted marble floated upwards gently before resting on the desk once again. The rest of the marbles stood idly and untouched.

          "What I have just demonstrated is precision in spell-casting. Targeted, controlled, and mindful execution of a spell. Now, it is your turn, Mr Black," Mather said, arching his brow expectantly. "First, state what you are aiming for. Then, perform the spell."

          Turais adjusted his grip and cleared his throat nervously.

          "The second marble from the right," Turais announced. Then, pressing his voice to a bare whisper, he muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa."

          As if a gale-force wind swept through the room, the marbles ricocheted in all different directions, bouncing against all surfaces noisily and scattering everywhere. Turais winced at his horrific performance as the Professor rearranged everything with the flick of a wand.

         "The volume of your voice does not affect your precision," Mather explained. "The conscious effort of controlling your magic is all that matters. Try again."

          Turais inhaled in a calming breath and said, "The second marble from the right."

          Pausing slightly, Turais focused on his core and actively monitored the amount of magic coursing through his wand arm as he said the incantation.

          This time, only the five marbles of the right shot into the air immediately. The rest rolled across the desk surface as if there was a particularly strong draft, but they ultimately fell off the edge one by one until none remained on the empty desk.

          Turais felt his cheeks burning up in embarrassment. He could not even bring himself to glance at Mather's reaction.

          "Well, let's try again," Mather's voice said calmly.

          It was going to be a long night, Turais thought grimly.

 

***

 

          September gradually melted into October as the trees lost their green cover. With November just around the corner, they started to don a permanent white coat of ice and frost. But despite the noticeable changes in the scenery around them, Sirius and James remained in an icy relationship. As far as Turais could tell, they had not been on speaking terms since their publicized row in early September. Apparently, holding grudges was not a trait reserved only for Slytherins.

          Meanwhile, Turais had been at his most relaxed state for as far as he could remember. He had reverted to a regular timetable without Divination classes, which gave him plenty of time to hang about with his peers. The revoking of his status as Youth Representative meant that he could not travel outside of Hogwarts, which only meant more free time, even with his extracurricular training with Professor Mather.

          Therefore, he became more involved with the Quidditch team than ever before, especially when Michael insisted that he take on most of the captain's duties so the older boy could focus on his N.E.W.T.’s and follow through on his promise to Kaiden. However, Turais did not have significantly more interactions with Regulus despite the increased time spent with the team. While it was common for the Seeker's training to be run separately from the rest of the team, Turais had a sneaking suspicion that Michael deliberately kept the two brothers apart by making Turais run drills with the Chasers instead of with Regulus. Turais did not mind that, for he, too, worried that his emotions would interfere with the necessary professionalism.

          On one particularly windy day when the leaves swirled around the levitating candles in the Great Hall, Turais received a letter from an enigmatically named person called Cetus.

          Turais's eyes widened in recognition as he moved to leave in haste. However, Sirius managed to catch a glimpse of the name and asked loudly, "Who is Cetus?"

          Cetus was the sea monster that Poseidon set upon the kingdom of the queen who claimed that her daughter, Andromeda, was fairer than all of Poseidon's Nereids. Turais remembered asking how he would recognize Andromeda's letter if she would be writing under an alias, but his cousin merely responded with a firm "You will know when you see it."

          Turais ignored his brother's question and fled the Great Hall. Finding a hidden alcove in the nearby first-floor corridors, Turais tore the envelope and read its content.

My dear cousin Turais,

I hope this letter finds you and your brothers well. Forgive me for the formal tone, as I have realized that I cannot take your well-being for granted, especially considering what had been reported about you over the summer holidays.

With the pleasantries aside, Ted and I are excited to announce the arrival of our daughter, Nymphadora, who was born on October 14, 1972! Within days, she has already managed to monopolize all the love and attention from Ted and his parents when all she seems to do is sleep and cry! Actually, I should amend this by saying that Nymphadora seems to be displaying accidental magic already as we found her hair to be at different lengths depending on the time of the day or her mood. We are delighted to discover her magical talents, but we are also quite amused and puzzled by her fixation on changing her appearances.

And of course, I am merely joking when I express my case of jealousy. Nymphadora is the most perfect little angel and a wonderful addition to the family. She will be most excited to meet her cousins, but before that time, I have attached a photograph so you can start to be acquainted with her! Funnily enough, this photograph captures one of the rare moments when her appearance stayed the same for longer than a second. I suppose she wanted you to recognize her when you finally visit!

On a more somber note, I would like to ask that you deliver this news to my sister, Narcissa. I know that you two have shared a tense relationship, and that tension likely remained unresolved since we parted ways. However, I dare not write to her in fear of the troubles that might find her. I must insist that you do not feel burdened should you wish to decline my request, for you have already done a lot for our family, and notifying her is ultimately a responsibility of mine.

Finally, I have attached our address to this letter. I would like to ask you to keep this a secret, especially to other members of our family, as I do not wish for any harm to come to Ted's family. Please rest assured that this was a mutual decision reached between Ted and me and that we both agree you should be entrusted with this information.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

Your cousin Andy

          Turais turned his attention to the photograph that showed a pair of smiling parents looking down lovingly at an adorable sleeping infant held in the mother's arms. Little Nymphadora's eyes slowly winked apart, and her large, round eyes focused on the camera as Andromeda and Ted waved.

 

***

 

          In the following days, Turais eyed for an opportunity to speak with Narcissa alone. This task was surprisingly difficult to accomplish, as Turais found that Narcissa seemed to be surrounded by Malfoy-friendly students at all times without a moment of privacy. However, he eventually managed to catch her on her own when he saw her enter the girl's washroom alone one day.

          Hidden by the Cloak of Invisibility, Turais crept past two Slytherin bodyguards and slipped through the closing door behind her. Immediately, he shed the Cloak and revealed himself.

          There was a sharp gasp as Narcissa clutched the sink and watched Turais pop into existence through the mirror's reflection. Before Turais could speak, a hoarse voice shouted through the door. 

          "Is everything okay in there?"

          Narcissa shot him a murderous gaze as she shouted out, "Yes!"

          Sounds of footsteps approached the door as the same voice spoke out, "Do we need to come in there?"

          "I would think not, Sykes!" Narcissa hissed indignantly. Keeping her eyes trained on Turais, who was in the process of opening every stall to ensure the place was empty, she said, "This is a girl's bathroom, and I dare you to set a single toe in this place."

          There were few grunts outside as the two sets of footsteps retreated.

          "Cousin Narcissa," Turais said as he walked forward. However, Narcissa raised her arm up to stop his advance.

          "What is the purpose of your unseemly conduct?" She hissed out bitingly. 

          "Something that is of great importance to you," Turais replied, unfazed by the animosity. "And it involves a certain mutual acquaintance of ours."

          Narcissa's expression cleared up at once as she understood the implications.

          "What is it?" Narcissa asked immediately. Her expression was taut with worry and anticipation as she took a step towards the boy subconsciously. "How is she?"

          "She is well," Turais said. "And so is her daughter."

          There was a hitch of breath as Narcissa's motions stilled. She breathed out in awe, "She's given birth to a baby girl?" At Turais's affirmative nod, Narcissa asked, "What is her name?"

          "Nymphadora Tonks," Turais said the surname with a hint of reservation. However, the girl did not seem to pay attention.

          "Nymphadora," Narcissa repeated in a chant-like whisper with a wistful smile on her face. "What a beautiful name... Nymphadora."

          "I have a photograph of them," Turais muttered as he pulled out the item, "Should you want to have a look."

          Narcissa nodded wordlessly as she took the photograph into her trembling hands. A gasp of delight escaped her lips as her soft, loving eyes gazed upon the gurgling child. With the pad of her finger, she gently traced the outline of Nymphadora's cheeks. Turais looked away, waiting patiently as the two cousins shared a rare moment of amiable silence.

          Finally, Narcissa held out the photograph to return it, but Turais could see the reluctance in her eyes, which continued to linger on her baby niece's face.

          "You can have it," Turais offered gently as he placed the photograph on her palm and folded her fingers over it. "It is of a higher sentimental value to you than it is to me. I'm sure Andy does not mind."

          Narcissa tore her gaze from the contact and looked up. The animosity in her eyes had now tapered off entirely. Pressing her lips together, she nodded once and said a simple "Thank you."

          Then, she looked down at the photograph once again. Turais took it as a sign to leave as he donned the Cloak once more. However, just as he was about to swing the fabric over his head, Narcissa called out.

          "Turais."

          He turned around and saw Narcissa looking at him with an odd expression.

          "Yes?" Turais replied.

          "If I... If I have something that I would like to write to her, are you willing to send it to her for me?" Narcissa asked.

          Turais gave a small smile and answered, "Of course. I can ask her to write to you directly, but she worries that it will bring you unwanted attention." 

          Narcissa's expression turned tight.

          "She is right to be worried," she admitted as an edge crept into her voice. Gesturing at the door, she said, "I'm sure you've noticed the people that have been escorting me everywhere. My father is persuaded that her estranged daughter will try and contact me, seeing that she and I share a close bond. And they... they have been checking all of my communications."

          "Is there anythin-"

          "No," Narcissa said quickly. "These are my issues to deal with, and I will handle them myself."

          Turais nodded as Narcissa placed the photograph into her robe pocket carefully. Adjusting her appearance, she walked towards the door and said, "I will find a way to contact you."

          With that, Narcissa opened the door and walked out.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-10-06

Chapter 61: Black Walnut (revised)

Notes:

Hey everybody,

I am posting a new update early because I will be quite busy for the rest of the month. Please anticipate the next update to be around mid-November. But before then, I hope you first enjoy this new update!

- ravenclawblues 2021-10-16

 

Please note that there were three paragraphs missing when I first posted the story. It is now added it to the end of the chapter.

- ravenclawblues 2021-10-17

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

BLACK WALNUT


 

FIFTEEN DEAD IN VILLAGE FACTORY  EXPLOSION

Jack Berry

 

November 5, 1972, 7:45am - Fifteen men, including a married man with six children, were killed when part of a brick dust extraction tower collapsed on to the roof of a machine shop at a Cheshire works. Mr Derek Warrington, managing director of the factory, stated that something had started a fire in the dust extraction tower which caused the wall to fall.

Firemen across the two counties of Cheshire and Merseyside from four districts, Halton, Warrington, City of Liverpool, and Knowsley, raced to the scene. A spokesman for the fire brigade said: "There was no fire damage inside the boilerhouse where the dust extraction terminates - the likeliest place that would have caused an explosion. However, our men has also spotted multiple sites where the fire might have originated, which is highly unusual."

The police has confirmed that this incident is being treated as a case of malicious arson...

 

***

 

          An unsettling tinkering noise filled the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom as the fourth-year students filed in.

          All their attention was drawn to an antique vanity table wobbling on its thin legs in the centre of the room. Its large, oval mirror was coated with dust, and its edges were bulging against the rotting, wooden frame stained with black blotches of mould. Beneath the tabletop was a series of drawers that were at varying degrees of decay. However, the top drawer was curiously locked with a golden padlock and chain.

          Suddenly, another loud bang sent the students tumbling backwards in haste. The chains slid left and right, and the padlock bounced slightly, but otherwise, it remained securely in place.

          "Boggart!" A voice thundered from the far corner of the classroom.

          It was only then that the class realized someone else was already in the room. The latest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Chevron, was a small stout man with a disproportionately large walrus moustache. He walked around the vibrating furniture and examined the wary faces. Then, he asked, "What is a boggart? Anyone? Any brave soul would like to take a guess?"

          He winked at the Gryffindors encouragingly, but they were all glancing at Turais and Alex expectantly. Turais turned to his friend, trying to see if he wanted to answer the question. Instead, he saw Alex's pale complexion as he stared at the table, eyes wide with terror. 

          Immediately, Turais raised his hand.

          "Yes!" The man said jovially as he gestured at Turais.

          "A Boggart lurks in dark, confined spaces," Turais explained as the Professor nodded encouragingly. "No one knows what a Boggart looks like. For when it encounters someone, it transforms into their worst fear."

          "And what is the most effective spell against this particular non-being?"

          "Riddikulus, the Boggart-Banishing Spell," Turais replied. "And laughter."

          "Perfect answers," Chevron beamed. "And your name is - let me guess - Mr Fawley?" At Turais's shake of the head, he immediately said, "If not, then, you must be Mr Black! Excellent. A well-deserved ten points for Slytherin." 

          The man started to delve into the detailed information of the creature, so Turais turned his attention back to his friend.

          "Are you feeling alright?" Turais muttered. "You have been a bit peaky for quite some time now."

          Alex snapped his gaze onto Turais's face with his facial muscles twitching. His eyes were haunted with a potent mixture of fear, grief, and pain.

          Barely louder than a whisper, Alex said shakily, "I'm scared, Turais..."

          "You don't have to do this if you're not comfortable," Turais said. "I can ask the Professor to excuse you -"

          "Is there an issue?" Professor Chevron asked. Turais turned to see that everyone else had already been gathered into a single file line in front of the vanity table.

          Just as Turais was about to answer, Alex spoke up instead.

          "N... Nothing!"

          "Well, then. Hurry over! The Boggart won't banish itself."

          Turais and Alex immediately made their way over to the end of the line where Jonty and Jane were.

          "Thank you for alerting us," Turais snapped at Jonty sarcastically, who looked sheepish.

          "Sorry, I was busy regaling Jane with an account of my encounter with a Boggart once during -"

          "Oh, enough of that for now," Jane interrupted. With a concerned frown, she asked, "Alex, are you alright? You look a little green about the gills."

          Alex swallowed and gave an unconvincing smile. Stutteringly, he said, "I... I'm fine."

          But their attention was quickly brought back to the front of the classroom as the first person, a Gryffindor named Lisandra Murk, stepped forward.

          "Are you ready?" Chevron asked as the Boggart in the drawer continued to smash against its metal restraints.

          The girl steeled her resolve and nodded. Chevron trained his wand at the padlock, and it snapped in half. The chains pooled onto the wooden floor noisily, but after that, the room was void of the rattling noise for the first time since they entered.

          The vanity table stilled. Then, the drawer slowly slid out, inch by inch, until it reached its maximum extent with a light thud.

          For a second, there was nothing except for the hitched breaths amongst the students.

          But then, a giant, black, furry leg extended out and arched up into the air until it reached the ground. Then, a second one appeared, followed by a third. An audible gasp of fear escaped Lisandra's lips as she came face-to-face with a fully-grown Acromantula towering over her.

          "The spell, Ms Murk," the Professor called out.

          She glanced at the Professor next to her, which seemed to have brought her out of her stupor. She shook herself and refocused on the gigantic creature. Adjusting her grip, she pointed her wand and shouted, "Riddikulus! " Immediately, there was a loud crack as the Acromantula's body swelled into a balloon shape and floated upwards inverted. It fell back onto the ground before bouncing up again like a ball while its now-diminutive legs flailed helplessly.

          The sight elicited a snort from her, and the Professor cheered, "Well done! The next student, please step up!"

          The line slowly whittled down as most of the Gryffindors went, followed by some of the Slytherins. Every time they moved up one position in the line, Alex looked a little paler.

          Worriedly, Turais asked, "I can bring you to the infirmary. You don't -"

          "No," Alex said with his eyes closed. Breathing through his nose heavily, he said, "I... I can do this..."

          "Are you sure? -"

          Alex responded with a tight squeeze on Turais's forearm.

          "I... I... want to, Turais," he whispered. His eyes were blazing with tormented determination, and Turais could only nod. Finally, after Jane's Fiendfyre-turned-firework and Jonty's werewolf-turned-golden-retriever, it was Alex's turn.

          "Next," the Professor prompted while a dog darted around in a circle, chasing its tail. However, it seemed that Alex's legs were refusing to cooperate. "Come on. You can do it."

          The dog seemed to have noticed Alex's presence as it stopped running. Tilting its head, its large, black eyes stared up at Alex's petrified expression as it panted. Then, it warped into a dark, chaotic cloud. Turais watched as the cloud descended onto the floor and transformed into a twisted, mangled body of a boy. Crimson, red blood was flowing down the side of his face as his eyes looked up into the sky, unseeingly. 

          It had Alex's face.

          Alex's expression crumbled as his wand trembled violently.

          "R...Riddikulus! "

          The corpse remained. However, the face was wiped blank as the facial features collided against each other and rearranged themselves in a chaotic motion. It started to slow and settle into the faint outlines of a feminine face when it scrambled itself and rearranged into a second face. Turais barely caught a glimpse of it when it disappeared as Alex choked out a shaky "Riddikulus! "

           For the second time, the face morphed into a swirl of darkness. It started to slow and settle into the faint outlines of a feminine face once more before ultimately revealing Alex's face. Anguished, Alex dropped his wand, which clattered onto the floor.

          Immediately, Turais stepped in front to shield Alex from the horrific sight. Anticipating a Dementor, Turais readied his wand above the Boggart with the spell in his mind. But, the corpse did not move. Confused, Turais took a second glance when he froze on the spot. 

          Everything in his mind turned into blank static as he looked at the wavy, black hair draped across Sirius's face messily and his large, grey eyes staring lifelessly into the distance. His mouth was slightly open as if he was speaking mid-sentence when the most unthinkable, most unspeakable crime was committed against him. Rationally, Turais knew this was all fake, but his body refused to cooperate -

          "Riddikulus! "

          Turais heard himself shout out, but the face merely changed into Orion's.

          "Riddikulus! 

          Vaguely, as though from afar, Turais looked at Regulus's face until it transformed into something else and disappeared from view.

          Then, the muffled noises in his ears started to clear as the roars of the classroom filled his senses. He looked up to see the Professor's concerned expression. Whipping his head around, he noticed that everyone was watching him silently with concern.

          "Who was it after Fawley saw himself?" Turais heard someone whisper.

          "I don't know. I didn't catch a glimpse."

          "Wasn't it just his face the entire time?"

          "I might have seen it wrong, then..."

          Not knowing what to do with himself, Turais muttered a quick apology and walked out the classroom door without a backward glance as his heart pounded.

 

***

 

          "Mate, that was rough," Jonty grunted out tiredly during lunch.

          Opposite Jonty, Turais bit on his bar of dark chocolate while ignoring the lavish spread of food before his eyes. After what he saw, he did not have any appetite. However, he forced himself to eat the chocolate because he knew it would help elevate his mood.

          "Don't get me wrong," Jonty said sympathetically, eyeing his subdued friends. "Fearing your death is one thing, but to see your entire family dead... That's a different kind of horror altoge- Ouch! "

          Jonty hissed in pain as Jane smacked the boy on the head. However, Turais did not pay them any attention as he felt his stomach twist. He abandoned his chocolate on the table and rested his face in his folded arms.

          When he was Harry Potter, his Boggart was a Dementor. It was not his dead parents then, so why did it change now?

          What was different?

          Closing his eyes, the images of Sirius, Orion, and Regulus lying dead on the ground flashed across his mind. Another shiver trickled to the base of Turais's spine uncomfortably and caused him to wince involuntarily. Shaking his head in confusion, Turais decided to focus on something else to avoid thinking about the haunting memories.

          He looked around and found Alex in a similar state of disengagement.

          "Alex," Turais whispered as he tapped the other boy's shoulder. However, the boy didn't seem to hear him. Louder this time, Turais repeated, "Alex!"

          The boy blinked and looked around the Great Hall in alarm. "Huh? What's happening?"

          "Welcome back to the land of the living, Alex," Jonty said with a lazy wave before scooping a spoonful of mashed potato. 

          Alex blinked and looked at Turais briefly before zoning in on the bar of chocolate.

          "You should have some," Turais said, passing the item over. "It will help."

          "Thanks," he mumbled, averting his gaze.

          Despite the raucousness and vivacity around them, Alex and Turais seemed to be on an island of misery together, wrapped up in their individual pains. That was how it remained for several minutes until a pair of arms snaked around Turais's neck for a quick hug.

          "Turais!" Sirius greeted as he slipped into the seat beside him, seemingly impervious to the tense atmosphere surrounding him.

          Seconds later, Regulus joined as well. He paused in his stride when he saw the waving, ecstatic Sirius. Meanwhile, Turais sat there uselessly as he watched his brothers' interaction unblinkingly. He was in a bit of a daze as he tried to reconcile what he saw during class with what he was seeing.

          "Someone's getting too comfortable sitting away from their own kind," Regulus muttered under his breath as he sat down beside Sirius. Sirius merely responded with the brightest smile he could muster.

          Regulus rolled his eyes and reached for a piece of bread when Sirius ambushed him with a headlock, causing Regulus to let out an undignified yelp. Keeping his thrashing brother at bay, Sirius tickled his nose and cooed sweetly, "Aw, thanks for the lunch invite, little bruv. Just for your information, I've sat with Turais loads of times last year, and I'm not going anywhere." 

          He released Regulus, who immediately shuffled away from the Gryffindor and patted down his ruffled robe with a dark scowl.

          "You ought to stop frowning, really," Sirius said as he tried to rub at Regulus's knitted brows. But this time, Regulus successfully swatted his arm away. "Mars your forehead."

          "Can someone kick him out before I am forced to?" Regulus snapped without any real heat to his words.

          "Anyhow," Sirius turned back to the fourth-years, "So I heard you just had an absolutely brilliant Defense Against the Dark Arts class -"

          Alex stood up abruptly, and the sudden motion surprised everyone around him. Wordlessly, he left the table and walked out of the Great Hall.

          Turais shook himself and stood up as well. Thoughts scattered, he said stutteringly, "I... I will -" He waved at the door and mumbled to himself, "- I will head off as well."

          "What's with them today?" Sirius wondered loudly as they stared at the boy's departing figure with concern. 

          Turais caught a glimpse of Alex's hurried figure as he headed up the Astronomy Tower. When Turais caught up, he found Alex sitting down beside a pillar with his blue eyes trained at the grey skies above.

          Turais sat down beside him silently, afraid to disturb and wary of overstepping. He opted to start with asking something less intrusive.

          "Jonty... he ran his mouth a little..." Turais said softly. "Jane has scolded him already -"

          "It's not Jonty," Alex interrupted quietly. "It's something else that is bothering me."

          Turais edged carefully, "If it is about your second Boggart -"

          Alex shook his head, and Turais immediately fell silent. 

          "You saw," Alex confirmed softly after a pause. "My second Boggart."

          Turais nodded silently as he stared down at his hands.

          "I... I am surprised," Turais said slowly. "Surprised, but honoured."

          Alex gave Turais a tired smile before looking back at the landscape before them.

          "You're the closest thing I have to family, Turais, so I expected it. But... it's not about that either..." Alex stopped speaking and looked away. After a long pause, he said with a strangled voice, "I was hoping for something - someone, rather - else. I wanted to see them again. That's why I insisted on going despite dreading the experience...

          "But I don't remember what she looks like," Alex choked out as his breathing turned ragged. "I... I don't remember what my mother looks like anymore..."

          Turais patted Alex's back soothingly as the other boy covered his face, desperate to hold back his tears.

 

***

 

          "Great pass, vice!" Harper shouted as he high-fived Turais after one of the more complex crossing drills. "Phew! I haven't felt so satisfied in a long time."

          "Quit the bootlicking, Harper," Pyrites shouted out jokingly. "But he's right, vice. The drill was darn awesome. And you are quite good at Chasing. Ever consider becoming a Chaser yourself?"

          "Bootlicker," Harper coughed out suddenly and Pyrites glared. Meanwhile, Turais eyed the Chasers with little interest.

          Initially, Turais did not even want to show up for training today. However, he ultimately decided that Quidditch could be a good distraction after all. Additionally, he thought that there was more-than-excellent chance that Michael would murder him should he skip training the week before the match against Gryffindor.

          And on a side note, the team seemed to have finally settled on referring to Turais as "vice" while calling Regulus "Black." Turais thought it was a good arrangement, considering the horrible alternatives that the other teammates entertained for weeks.

          Harper made a face at Pyrites as Turais explained, "Tailor-made to smash through MacGregor's winger tactics, according to Wilkins's notes."

          "Speaking of Wilkins, I see him and Black flying over. Aren't they ending training a tad too early?"

          Turais checked his watch and saw there was half an hour left before their booking ended. In particular, Michael was not one to end training early for any reason.

          "I'll go take a look," Turais said with a tired wave. "Reset the positions and run the drill a couple more times on your own."

          "Aye, aye, vice," Harper chanted as Turais touched down on the Pitch and walked up to the pair. However, before Turais could reach them, Regulus was already making his way to the changing room. If his expression was anything to go by, he was in a spectacularly bad mood. Training today must have gone poorly.

          "How's Regulus doing?" Turais asked as he flew up beside the captain.

          Michael looked at Regulus's departing figure and frowned.

          "I've noticed that your brother tends to become fixated on catching the Snitch."

          Turais did not like what Michael was implying, so he pretended to play ignorant.

          "That's a good thing, right? He is the Seeker, after all."

          Michael gave Turais a penetrating gaze.

          "You know fully well what I am trying to say, Turais. I'm worried that he might become a Spartan."

          Turais's brows furrowed worriedly at the last word.

          In Quidditch terms, a Spartan described someone - usually a Seeker - who disregarded his own safety to catch the Snitch. This mindset made them prone to suffer serious injuries during matches, much like the ancient Spartans who sought glory in dying a heroic death on the battlefield.

          "That's impossible," Turais snapped immediately. For a moment, he felt a flash of genuine anger against the captain just for suggesting that Regulus - somehow - had borderline suicidal tendencies. What a joke!

          "Don't bite my head off. I'm merely suggesting that because I caught your brother placing himself in perilous situations that were completely avoidable -"

          "I pull off my fair share of death-defying stunts myself," Turais argued heatedly.

          "You know exactly what I mean, Turais," Michael returned severely. "The difference between you and him is that you are always in control. You know when to take risks and when to stop... At least for Quidditch. As far as I can tell, he does not. If he cannot get himself out of that mindset soon, he will get hurt. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he will -"

          "You're not planning to substitute him, are you?" Turais pressed urgently as a sense of desperation started to bubble up in his chest. "Let him play the match against Gryffindor, Michael. He'll be fine. The match is next week, and you don't have time to train another -"

          "You, of all people, cannot use that excuse with me!" Michael growled lowly as he jabbed a finger at Turais menacingly. "You know that I will replace him in a heartbeat if I know that he will injure himself! Will you - if you were in my position - send your own brother in harm's way?!"

          That shut Turais up effectively, and he looked away. Michael placed a hand on Turais's shoulder, but the other boy shook it off roughly. With a heavy sigh, Michael said, "Your brother will be playing in the upcoming match, but my concern remains. I will re-evaluate my observations during the match, and if I am not satisfied, your brother will be taking some time away from Quidditch."

          Turais stayed in a defiant silence despite the growing doubt in his mind.

          "Your judgement is clouded right now, Turais," Michael finally said. "Hand over that Quaffle and have a chat with your brother. He didn't seem to take the news too well."

          "I'm not taking the news well either," Turais snapped half-heartedly.

          Michael frowned, but then he shook his head wordlessly and flew off. Turais dismounted and walked into the changing room. However, Regulus was nowhere to be seen. Turais exited the changing room and spotted Pierricoeur, a new Chaser selected for the Ravenclaw team, lingering around the bushes suspiciously. Turais immediately knew that the boy was there to spy on the Slytherin training session. However, that was not something that concerned him at the moment.

          Making eye contact with Turais, Pierricoeur's face flushed as he turned to flee. However, Turais managed to catch up.

          "Lorenzo made me do it!" Pierricoeur shouted out immediately and placed his arms in front of his face.

          'I’m not here to talk about that. Have you seen my brother?" Turais said as Pierricoeur cracked open an eye and peeked at the Slytherin in confusion.

          "Which one?" he gasped.

          "Regulus!" Turais hissed impatiently. "The younger of the two."

          "I saw him walking back to the castle," Pierricoeur replied. He flinched as Turais moved to run, but Turais did not pay him any attention.

          "Thank you."

          "Hey!" Pierricoeur shouted from beside. Turais turned around and looked at the Ravenclaw expectantly. He seemed to have something to say, but he ultimately decided against it. "Ur... Nevermind."

          Confused, Turais continued on his way. He ultimately found the boy in the Great Hall eating dinner. However, his expression was so inhospitable that Turais did not even try to raise the issue. This was apparently something Sirius did not worry about as he sat down beside Regulus and asked, "Is everything good?"

          "What do you think?" Regulus snapped. Sirius frowned but likely thought it was merely one of Regulus's normal bad moods.

          He shook off the animosity easily and said airily, "Well, do you mind taking your 'not-good' somewhere else then? It is sort of bringing down everyone else's mood."

          Regulus glared at Sirius before he settled with a frustrated crossing of arms.

          "And where is Alex?" Sirius asked.

          "Not here," Turais said distractedly as he stared deep into the content in his cup as if it was a Divination teacup that would reveal the solution to all his woes.

          "Well, that's enlightening," Sirius said with a roll of his eyes. But perhaps he finally sensed that neither boy was in the mood for conversation. He turned his full attention to the food before him and blessedly left Turais to his thoughts.

          The walk from the Great Hall to the Slytherin common room was filled with an odd silence. Listening to the echoes of their footsteps in the empty dungeon corridors, Turais shifted Regulus's broom from his left arm to his right. He then braved the tension and said, "Michael is just worried about you. Just make sure you don't push yourself too much."

          There was a long pause before Regulus muttered quietly, "I know."

          "I'm sure it's nothing," Turais said cheerily. "You will do well. I believe in you."

          Regulus gave Turais a weak smile as Turais's heart lightened considerably. The lingering doubt continued to permeate his mind, but Turais shoved those thoughts away. Suddenly, there was a series of rapid footsteps behind them. With everything that had happened today, Turais discovered that he was subliminally stewing in a particularly potent cauldron of irritability that made its presence known at the sight of one particular Slytherin Prefect.

          "What does the Headmaster want from me now?!" Turais snapped angrily as a flash of anger overcame him.

          "Aurors... There are Aurors," Evelyn gasped urgently. Suddenly, he realized that Alex was absent. "Where's Fawley? I thought he was always with you! Do you have any idea where he could be?"

          An unnatural fear gripped Turais. “What do you mean, Napier? Is Alex is trouble -"

          "I don't know, but I saw a couple of Aurors when I was leaving the Headmaster's office. If anything, it's likely bad news."

          "Do you have any idea where he could be?" 

          "I haven't seen him today," Turais said as he suddenly realized he had not seen the boy at the Hallowe'en dinner. "Try the library, perhaps?"

          With that information, Evelyn ran off again.

          "What could this possibly be about?" Regulus asked with a worried frown, "He can't be expelled, surely? He couldn't have done anything wrong!"

          Troubled, Turais could only muster a clueless shrug. However, Turais did not see his friend for the rest of the night. By the time Turais retired for the night, Alex's bed was still empty.

 

***

 

          The next day, Turais noticed that Alex's items had been moved around, suggesting that the boy had returned at some point during the night. However, Alex remained elusive. Alex was notably absent from breakfast, and the first glimpse of him was during Potions class when he stood with three Gryffindors at a table far from his own. When Alice arrived, she found her usual spot occupied by the boy. However, she graciously partnered up with Jane, Jonty, and Turais for the day without a fuss.

          "Maybe he is just embarrassed," Alice offered, referring to the most recent DADA class, while they were in the middle of brewing the Calming Draught. 

          "Well, no one got through that particular class without looking like an absolute idiot," Jonty snorted as he dropped some Bubotuber pus into his cauldron. It hissed and quickly turned into a revolting shade of green. Jonty sniffed the content and wrinkled his nose before continuing, "Turais here, somehow, managed the impossible and emerged nobler than ever. Imagine someone asking what your worst fear is and answering: 'I can think of nothing worse than the death of my family, of course!'"

          Turais did not respond, for he felt slightly nauseous just thinking back to that class. Turais also knew that Alex's mood today was likely due to their private conversation and whatever happened with the Headmaster and the Aurors. The others did not know that information, however, and he was not about to reveal them either.

          "It was a taxing experience for all of us," Jane said diplomatically after taking a quick peek at Alex. "Perhaps he just needs a bit more time to overcome the shock. It is not every day you confront a dead version of yourself."

          "Quite frankly, I don't understand why he is reacting that way," Jonty said as he pushed some diced crocodile heart into his cutting board into the mixture. "Fearing one's own death is probably the least embarrassing out of everything we saw that day. Did you see Flint's face when an oversized chicken appeared? I felt embarrassed for him. That's how bad it was. And I'm sure he felt stupid afterwards, judging by his sulk."

          "Jonty!" Jane smacked the boy on the shoulder again. Meanwhile, Flint looked up from the next table and glared at the back of Jonty's head angrily.

          When class was over, Alex was the first to pack up his items. He quickly darted out of the classroom without sparing a glance at his friends. Turais threw his quill into his bag and said, "Jonty, please help me clean up my cauldron."

          Without waiting for a response, Turais ran out after the boy and trailed him to the same place they sat yesterday afternoon. Remaining standing, Turais noticed Alex's glossy eyes were fixed at a distant point in the sky as the stray strands of his unkempt hair bobbed in the breeze.

          "I'm fine," Alex said. "You can stop staring."

          Turais averted his eyes and nodded. He, too, knew that feeling of loss all too well. And to have that painful feeling thrown in one's face without warning... It was a terrible pain to handle.

          "It's alright, Alex. I know how you feel. I truly do -"

          Alex stood up suddenly. His eyes were flashing in agony and, surprisingly, anger.

          "What do you know?! Huh?" He spat, filled with vitriol. "You know nothing, Turais! Absolutely nothing! And pray it stays that way!"

          Then, Alex stormed off towards the greenhouses, leaving Turais at a complete loss.

 

***

 

          For the next few days, Alex remained in a depressed mood. With the recent confrontation fresh on Turais's mind, he decided it was best not to agitate the boy with his presence. Having been in such proximity with his friend for nearly three years, he felt a destabilizing sense of loss that he could not shake off his mind with Alex's absence. However, Regulus and the upcoming Quidditch match were able to keep Turais's thoughts occupied for the majority of the time.

          "He's flying alright," Turais commented with a hint of vindication as he watched Regulus flying around on their last day of training.

          "You know that watching him train for two days does not compare with watching him for two months," Michael said as his Self-Inking quill jotted some notes down on the levitated parchment. 

          "I'm merely suggesting that you might be wrong."

          Michael eyed Turais severely.

          "You could very well be correct, but that still does not invalidate my observations."

          "Let's agree to disagree then."

          "Turais, I know you feel slighted," Michael said with great restraint. "But I do implore you not to disregard my opinion."

          "I listened to you, and I am here to see for myself," Turais insisted. "So far, there is nothing that is a cause for concern."

           Michael shook his head with a regretful look, and Turais did his best to ignore the gnawing sense of guilt that was building inside him.

 

***

 

          "Dumbledore is going to allow Hogsmeade Weekends starting next month!" Jonty declared as he ran into the common room.

          "What? Really?" Smethwyck gasped in delight as the Slytherins circled around Jonty as if they were moths taken in by the light. 

          "Yes. He will officially announce it during dinner on Sunday, but all of us will have to obtain renewed permission beforehand... which is -" Jonty grinned smugly as he whipped out a large stack of unfilled permission slips. "- here! We can all send owls home and ask for permission -"

          While everyone scrambled to get their hands on one of the papers, Turais's gaze met Narcissa's from the opposite side of the room for a split moment before they both looked away. Later that night, Turais found an unsigned note on his bedside table that confirmed his thoughts.

 

 

 

Next Hogsmeade Weekend.

          Turais immediately sent his owl on an urgent errand to deliver the news to Andromeda and received an excited reply in affirmation. The next time Turais crossed paths with his cousin in the hallways, he gave the girl an imperceptible nod. The girl showed no sign of acknowledgement under the watchful gazes of her companions, but Turais knew she received the message.

          There was a tiny wrinkle to his masterplan, however, when he received a short letter from Orion. As he unfolded the paper, he could detect the Secrecy Charm cast on the piece of paper. He took an extra glance around his shoulder and found a stray eye glancing at it suspiciously.

          "You won't be able to see anything, Sirius," Turais said blandly as he tilted the paper towards his brother.

          Sirius flushed in embarrassment after being caught out and turned back to his sandwich hastily.  

Turais,

News has likely started circulating around Hogwarts that Hogsmeade Weekends are resuming. It was a unilateral decision on the Headmaster's part and I am certain that you know my position on this matter. Despite being unable to stop the Headmaster's decision, I was able to force him to ask students to obtain renewed permission before they are allowed to leave the school grounds this year.

Before you send me an owl, I am now telling you that I will not be giving you permission to leave Hogwarts. As much as I hate to admit this, you are safest at Hogwarts with Dumbledore at the helm. He might be biased against our family, but he is also powerful enough to ensure no external threats will reach you or your brothers.

You are likely seething at my decision, but I will not hesitate on choosing your safety over all else.

Write to me when you are finished sulking.

Lovingly,

Orion

P.S. Please send Regulus my deepest apologies for missing his first match as I have an urgent meeting at the French Ministry tomorrow.

          Turais folded the letter neatly and placed it inside his robe pocket. He was not - as Orion might think - seething as he merely needed to sneak out of the castle. No one needed to know about his escapades.

          Meanwhile, Sirius commented with a pout, "Father and Turais are always hiding secrets from us."

          "That's because Turais is Heir and has a lot of duties," Regulus came to Turais's defense. "I doubt you would want to suffer with those affairs, Sirius, so quit complaining."

          "Loosen up, would you?" Sirius grumbled, and Regulus glared.

          There was a group of Gryffindors walking down the hallway nearby and chatting loudly.

          "Can you shut up about the Slytherin Seeker?" Lily snapped at James, who looked like a cat that tasted a particularly sour lemon.

          "I will complain as much as I want to," James sniped back. "This is a free country, and -"

          "Aww," Sirius cooed loudly, capturing the Gryffindors' attention. "Is someone still pouting like a baby as he writes a tear-soaked letter to mommy?"

          James flushed red. 

          "At least I have a mother," he bit back.

          It was as if the air was suddenly sucked out. Everyone was just eyeing each other with a horrified expression on their faces. Even James had the sense to recognize that he had just said something truly terrible.

          "You arsehole!" Sirius screamed as he whipped out his wand. However, Turais quickly disarmed him with a twist of the boy's wrist. Sirius immediately seized his shoe and threw it at the boy. However, it fell way short of its intended target. "I will kill you!"

          Turais and Regulus had to physically restrain the apoplectic Sirius from marching towards the other boy. However, they were glaring at James murderously with unspoken fury as well.

          "That was a low blow," a Gryffindor boy muttered.

          "Yeah, it was," another girl whispered.

          "Let's leave before you run your mouth again," another boy said as he dragged James, who was seemingly frozen in place, away roughly.

          Once the Gryffindors were out of sight, Sirius whipped around to Regulus and shouted angrily, "You have to destroy the Gryffindors tomorrow! I don't care how, but you must catch the snitch!"

          Regulus's eyes burnt angrily and his teeth were grinding as he nodded. Turais could not bring himself to say anything in the contrary, for he was fuming as well.

 

***

 

          Turais threw himself into the sole purpose of preparing Regulus on the day of the match. From waking Regulus up in the morning to making sure his Quidditch gears were all in order without one strap out of place, Turais's heart was pounding harder and in a way that he never did for his own matches.

          "You have to eat something, Reggie," Turais said worriedly as he continued to pile food on Regulus's plate despite the boy's obvious lack of appetite. 

          "I'm not hungry, Turais," Regulus said weakly.

          "Mushrooms are your favourite," Turais said. "Have some of that at least."

          "If you can put anything more on that plate, that is," Sirius smirked as he bit on an apple. He looked thoroughly entertained by Turais's actions, which irritated the older boy. Then, Sirius's expression turned into one of mock concern as he gasped dramatically, "Reggie, you look a bit peaky."

          Turais immediately whipped around to scan Regulus's face for any discomfort. He pressed his palm on the boy's forehead as he asked, "Are you feeling alright? You don't have a fever." Glancing at his watch, he saw that there was half an hour until the match started. "I can run to the infirmary and ask Madame Pomfrey for a Pepper-Up or a Girding Potion or -"

          "Turais," Jonty interrupted as Sirius was trying to hide his snigger behind his apple. "Girding Potion is a banned substance in competitive Quidditch."

          "Oh right," Turais gasped, smacking his forehead in realization. "That was silly of me to suggest."

          "And your cue to stop hovering," Jonty said. He stood up and physically guided Turais away from Regulus. "Relax, will you?"

          Looking up and down the Slytherin table, Jonty whispered into Turais's ear, "Do you know if Alex is joining the Quidditch match?"

          "I... I don't know," Turais said. He tried to shrug Jonty off and return to tending after Regulus, but Jonty stopped him and asked once more.

          "Did something happen between you two?"

          Turais looked up to see Jonty staring at him intensely.

          "I... We had a bit of an argument. I just want to give him... and us... some space," Turais hissed back. "Is this it? Or do you want to ask more questions?"

          Jonty raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement and backed away slowly. Turais proceeded to glare at Sirius and barked, "Do you want Regulus to crush the Gryffindor team or not? If you do, please be helpful and wipe that grin off your face."

          Sirius immediately sobered up and started to pour the entire bowl of sautéed mushrooms onto Regulus's plate in earnest.

          After another half an hour, Turais escorted Regulus to the Quidditch Pitch with the rest of the Slytherin team. Regulus seemed oddly out of focus, as if he was immersed in his own world while Michael delivered his usual pre-game pep talk. When it came time for them to walk out and onto the Pitch, Regulus was still sitting by himself in the corner while the rest of the team were filing out.

          "Reggie," Turais called out as Regulus flinched in surprise.

          "Wha... What?" the younger boy blinked his eyes and looked up at Turais.

          "Are you feeling alright?" Turais asked.

          "I... I... of course," Regulus gulped.

          "You know what to do, right?" Turais asked casually, trying to lighten the mood up.

          Regulus nodded as he swallowed heavily. "I just have to catch the Snitch."

          "Preferably quicker than your brother!" Pyrites shouted out to a smatter of chuckles. "He did it in less than two-and-a-half minutes!"

          Turais glared at Pyrites, but the Chaser merely shrugged before walking out.  When Turais turned back to his brother, he noticed that the boy's eyes were fixated at a distant point on the other side of the room as he muttered, "I have to catch the Snitch... I have to catch the Snitch..."

          "You just need to do your best, Reggie," Turais said gently. "And enjoy yourself."

          "I will catch the Snitch," Regulus gritted out determinedly. There was an intensity in Regulus's eyes that chilled Turais to the core, but Turais shook the feeling off once again.

          "Of course!" Turais nodded with an uneasy smile as he adjusted Regulus's robes. "You will be great."

          But judging by his brother's distracted look, he did not hear a word Turais said.

 

***

 

          "So how's our chance?!" Jonty shouted over the noise of the crowd as Turais rejoined the Slytherins. The match was already well underway and the Slytherins were leading with a slight edge of ten points. "I bet a Galleon that your brother will pull off a first victory!"

          Turais could only muster a weak smile before he turned back to the view in front of him.

          "This is the first game for the Slytherin Seeker, who is the younger brother of the unparalleled talent that is Turais Black," Winston Hawthorne described. "It is quite unfortunate that he will not be playing... in fact, he will not be playing for the rest of the year. Can you believe that? I personally cannot. What did he do to deserve this cruel and unusual punish - sorry, Professor - So... where was I? Yes! Today, his brother is squaring off against the Gryffindor Seeker Morgan Birdwhistle. Perhaps this is a chance for Gryffindor team to finally win the Snitch from the Slytheri - And MacGregor passes Crawley, who..."

          Turais tuned out the rest of the commentary as his eyes trailed after a particular small speck of green in the sky next to a red one. Suddenly, they both darted towards something in the distance.

          "And both Seekers have spotted the Snitch!" Hawthorne cried out. "Now, we all know the record time to beat is two minutes and twenty-four seconds!"

          Turais's eyes followed the two Seekers as they chased after the Snitch towards the edge of the Pitch. Then, they darted along the inner wall with only half a foot between the two objects. It took great precision and skill to position oneself directly behind the Snitch without accidentally brushing up against the wall, crashing, and facing serious harm.

          "Quite a dangerous chase! Right along the edge of the Pitch! Birdwhistle is in the lead but Black is not far behind." 

          Turais could see that Regulus was struggling to keep his flight path stable. The visible vibration of the broomstick, the incessant bobbing of the broom in the air currents, and the look of discomfort on Regulus's face as he glanced at the wall next to him... They were all tell-tale signs that Regulus did not have the level of control, skill, and confidence necessary in this pursuit. The Snitch suddenly veered up, barely clearing the railings at the stands. As if to prove Turais's point, the Gryffindor Seeker ground to a complete halt as he shook his head resignedly in the face of such a difficult chase.

          "BIRDWHISTLE GAVE UP THE CHASE! I don't blame you, mate. This is one crazy Snit- OH MERLIN -"

          Turais watched as Regulus flew past the Gryffindor Seeker without hesitation. His broom jerked violently as he tried to follow the Snitch's flight with great difficulty. There was a loud crack as one side of the footrest collided against the wooden railing and caused Regulus to spin out of control inches from the closest spectators. The Ravenclaw students hastily dropped onto the wooden floor in a frenzied wave of screams and shouts.

          "Reggie..." Turais muttered worriedly, not realizing that his hands were laced together against his lips. He chanted as if he was uttering a prayer, "Pull up... please, Reggie. Pull up."

          The boy managed to cling on fortunately, but he continued barreling towards the viewing tower with no sign of slowing down. To Turais's utter horror, Regulus threw his weight forward with a roar and tried for the Snitch again. However, the Seeker misjudged the rotational force and rolled over, ending up with his back towards the ground.

          The entire crowd gasped in shock and fear at the dangerous display.

          "BLACK BARELY CLEARED THE STANDS! THIS IS INSANITY! HE IS STILL SPINNING BUT MANAGES TO STAY ON HIS BROOM! WHAT A DAREDEVIL!"

          "Pull up, Reggie. You won't make it," Turais muttered as panicked, frustrated tears started to well up in his eyes. "Pull up, please. I beg you."

          Still, Regulus showed no signs of stopping as he gritted his teeth and fought to turn over the broom. With much difficulty, he was able to right himself. Meanwhile, the Snitch did a quick twirl around the tower before plummeting downwards vertically.

          "The Snitch is headed for the bottom of the Pitch!" Hawthorne announced. "WILL BLACK FOLLOW?"

          Turais's heart dropped to his stomach as he saw Regulus point his broom towards the Pitch ground. Turais could not even close his eyes from the impending disaster that was about to unfold. He watched as Regulus reached his arm out, inches away from the elusive golden ball and mere feet above solid ground. When Regulus was just about to slam into the soil and certain doom, he hit the ground in an unflattering flail of limbs as the broom plopped onto the grass beside him.

          "OH MERLIN!" Hawthorne let out a blood-curdling scream at the sight of the collapsed boy as the echoes of his voice reverberated around the silent stadium and inside Turais's skull.

          Turais barely recalled what happened next as his brain turned into a haze with only the image of Regulus's broken, bloodied body seared onto his corneas. He faintly remembered shoving people out of his way as he tumbled down the rickety, wooden staircases and onto the Pitch ground. But the moment he emerged from the wooden structure, he realized that he was surrounded by a giant wave of raucous applause and joyful shouts.

          Then, his eyes focused onto a tiny figure up ahead.

          Regulus was standing motionlessly on the Pitch as he stared at the stationary Snitch in his hand with an unbelievable expression on his face.

          "BLACK CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS!"

          The entire Slytherin team descended upon him as they offered him their congratulations, but Regulus caught sight of Turais standing at the doorway and he ran towards his older brother.

          "I caught the Snitch, Turais! I did it!" Regulus shouted as he threw himself at Turais excitedly.

          Turais mustered a tight smile and hugged Regulus, however, the smile did not reach his eyes.

 

***

 

          "Congratulations, Black."

          "Great performance by your brother, you must be proud."

          Turais was showered with adulations from nearly everyone he passed by, but he was not in the mood for celebration. All he could think of was how nearly Regulus died in that match. He wandered around the school grounds and finally reached a location at the shore of the Black Lake near the Forbidden Forest where he sat down. After a long time, another person joined him.

          Turais looked and saw it was Michael. A sense of shame rushed up as Turais averted his gaze.

          "I'm sorry," Turais mumbled after a long while. "I should've listened to you."

          Deep down, Turais knew he recognized the same signs.. He had seen it first-hand as well. But he merely ignored it, because it just hurt for someone to tell him that Regulus was somehow... flawed.

          Michael sighed heavily.

          "I told him to take some time off Quidditch," Michael revealed. "In the meantime, I think you should talk to him and help him figure out what the root cause is. I will substitute him with Blishwick for now, and if he does not show substantial improvements soon, she will play in the next match instead."

          Turais nodded as Michael gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. Per the captain's instructions, Turais walked up to the Slytherin changing room. When he reached the doorway, he could see Regulus was polishing his broom quietly.

          "Reggie," Turais called out softly, but there was no response.

          "Wilkins has sent you to smooth things over, hasn't he?" Regulus gritted out as Turais walked into view. "Well, there is simply no way to sugarcoat being kicked off the Quidditch team. Especially considering that I just helped him win the match!"

          "Don't be so dramatic. You are not being kicked off," Turais said placatingly, "He is asking you to take a break. There's a difference -"

          Regulus snorted at the words. Then, he hissed sarcastically, "Oh, I get it now. It's just like the difference between getting banned from playing in Quidditch matches versus getting banned from playing Quidditch entirely!"

          Turais could feel his entire body stiffen as his expression turned stony.

          "Regulus," Turais's voice was taut, but Regulus was too entangled in his frustration to notice the change, "You have been playing too aggressively, too recklessly. Now -"

          "You don't believe what he said, do you?" Regulus snapped. "Do I look like someone who would do whatever he claimed?"

          Turais took in a long, calming breath before allowing himself to speak, "I saw what you did on the Pitch today -"

          "I caught the Snitch!" Regulus roared. "I won the match for Slytherin! What is wrong with any of that?!"

          "You could've died!" Turais screamed in return. "That's what's wrong!"

          "Well, I didn't!" Regulus retorted hotly.

          "Do not argue with me, Regulus!" Turais growled. "I know what I saw! You would have been lucky to end up with only a broken neck! You won't be so lucky next time!"

          "You do the same thing all the time! You have no right to yell at me!"

          Regulus looked away angrily as Turais's face contorted with rage.

          "Do you know why we are called Seekers?!" Turais continued to shout. "Because in order to catch the Snitch, we need to see clearly. But we do not see only with our eyes! You need to be aware of your surroundings and your opponents, assess the risks, and know your limits! Clarity in here!" Turais poked Regulus's temple roughly as the younger boy stumbled backwards. "And yes, you also need to be bold and to trust in your instincts, but not at the expense of your safety! Clarity in here!" Turais gave Regulus's chest a hard shove as the boy stumbled again.

          "Perception. Mindfulness. Awareness!" Turais listed. "Something severely lacking from your performance!"

          "I was doing perfectly well! I have the results to prove it! -"

          Turais laughed mirthlessly.

          "Fine?! You call that fine?! Your broom was shaking like a leaf. It looked about to disassemble itself in mid-air! And you - you know better than anyone that you were struggling to control it! I could see it on your face! Wilkins was absolutely correct," Turais shouted, pretending that the words did not pain him to say, "I will personally see to it that you do not set foot in the Quidditch Pitch until I am happy with your progress."

          There was a long pause as the changing room was only filled with their angry, laboured breathing.

          Finally, Regulus spat bitterly, "I thought you of all people would be on my side."

          "This is not about sides! Both Wilkins and I want you to be successful as a Seeker, but we both noted a genuine concern for your own safety. Now, we just need to figure out what the issue is -"

          "There is no issue!" Regulus screamed in frustration. "Why don't either of you trust me on this?!"

          Regulus stormed out of the changing room without another word, abandoning his school robes and books on the bench. Turais sighed, rubbing his face dejectedly before he knelt on the floor and gathered the scattered parchments. He placed everything neatly in Regulus's locker and walked out with robes in his arms.

 

***

 

          Regulus avoided Turais for the rest of the day. The next morning, Turais tried to have a private chat with Regulus. However, the boy seemed quite determined to not allow this scenario to occur at all cost. Knowing Regulus's tendency to hide from his brother in times of distress, Turais waited outside the first-year dormitory at the break of dawn only to find out that Regulus had already left the common room before that. Turais was unwilling to make Regulus's situation public, so he was forced to accept that perhaps his youngest brother needed some space to process his thoughts.

          As he left Ancient Runes that day, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Glancing up tiredly, he saw Pierricoeur looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but standing next to the Slytherin.

          "Huh?" Turais grunted in confusion.

          Pierricoeur's eyes darted around anxiously before he turned his body sideways in a determined swivel. Clearing his throat loudly, he said quickly, "Listen, I don't like to meddle with other people's business, especially their familial matters. But I do have some insight when it comes to brotherly rows, if you would like to hear them."

          Turais raised his eyebrow, unable to comprehend the situation, and Pierricoeur explained hastily, "You and your brother were, frankly, quite loud. I could hear the argument through the walls of the changing room on the Ravenclaw side..."

          Pierricoeur seemingly took Turais's surprised expression as a hostile one as he backed off.

          "Look, if you don't want to hear it, we can pretend this never happen -"

          "Wait," Turais reached out his hand and stopped Pierricoeur from turning away. "I would like to. Hear it. Whatever you have to say."

          Pierricoeur gave Turais a searching gaze, confirming that his words were genuine, before he explained gingerly, "Well, I am speaking to you right now as an older brother to another older brother. And what I wanted to say is that sometimes... I find that Aigel sometimes mimics what I do, because he sees me as his role model. And when he falls short of that goal, he thinks he is lacking in some way and becomes fixated on his perceived shortcomings.

          "I can see that your brother holds great admiration for you," Pierricoeur continued carefully. "Admiration that borders on hero-worshipping. And it is quite difficult not to, considering the brilliant example you are setting. You might not realize this because you were busy running drills with the Chasers, but I have watched your brother long enough to recognize that he flies like you."

           Pierricoeur looked at Turais expectantly, but Turais merely stared back with confusion written on his face. Pierricoeur sighed and gritted out, "He flies exactly  like you, Black! What do you not understand? He wants to be you!"

          It was then that Turais understood.

          "Oh."

          That was all Turais managed to say as his mind spun in overdrive at the revelation. Meanwhile, Pierricoeur flushed in embarrassment as he stuttered, "You know what? Let's end this conversation."

          Pierricoeur fled hastily, leaving Turais alone to ponder about Regulus.

          As he walked to the Great Hall for lunch, he realized that a large crowd had gathered in the Entrance Hall, rendering it impossible to pass. Just as he was about to wonder what happened, he heard an exasperated cry of despair above his head. A few feet about the floor was a boy that was dangling upside down by one ankle with his face covered by the cascade of robes that flopped down.

          Directly below him was a pair of glasses that Turais immediately identified as James's.

          The boy continued to shout while the crowd of onlookers pointed and laughed. Turais searched around and found Sirius smirking smugly at the struggling figure next to Severus. Upon feeling Turais's gaze, Severus looked up and merely gave a disinterested shrug. Then, he patted Sirius’s shoulder and signalled for them to leave. The duo melted to the back of the crowd and headed through the oak doors inconspicuously.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed! I love reading all of them even if I do not have time to respond!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2021-10-16

Chapter 62: Author's Note & Update - Dark Tidings

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Hey everybody,

 

Ignore this author’s note if you started reading from Chapter 1 after February 5, 2022. You can scroll through this and head directly to the newest chapter!

 

I have finally completed the revision! And there is a new update after the lengthy Author's Note! Chapter 62: Dark Tidings. It is a reworking of the previous short update with new material!

As mentioned previously, most of the revisions were mostly contained within the first 30 revised chapters. The plotlines in Year 3 and the beginning of Year 4 were kept largely intact and only revised for continuity. 

Once again, I resist using the word “rewrite” because it is not a complete departure from the previous version and more of a major revision of the premise and the pruning of the story to make the story more concise (I started from a 68-chaptered story with 500k+ words to 62 chapters and 388k words).

I have included all the major plot-related deviations in this update. However, there are a lot of minor nuances/ details that I have changed throughout the chapters and I cannot possibly list them all out. Rest assured that if it is not listed below, it is not a major plot element that will affect your understanding of the story.

Regardless, I would highly recommend that you reread the revised chapters because those details cannot be adequately summarized here. Furthermore, I did put a lot of effort into perfecting the writing and I hope you will have a chance to appreciate it.

Despite the fact that I have spent many hours trying to revise this work, there is a whopping 62 chapters and 388 thousand words. Therefore, there could be discrepancies in the continuity of the story that I’ve missed, and I would like to apologize for them in advance. In addition, please do not hesitate to contact me should you find them.

I will be uploading the original version as the "non-canonical" version very soon.

 

Best regards,

ravenclawblues 2022-02-05

 

 

Major plot-related deviations:

 

1. The story begins in 1998 and Harry Potter is only 18 years old and was an Auror Trainee for 3 months only.

(Chapters 2, 3, 4)

 

The story starts 6 months after the Battle of Hogwarts when Harry Potter is 3 months into his Auror training at the Auror Academy. He is leading his first field operation (think: practical training) when he is struck by a Killing Curse that led to an encounter with Death, who then revealed to Harry that he can turn back time and remedy his deepest regrets. Harry chooses to return to the living world.

However, he soon regrets his decision. He also quits Auror training after 3 months and focuses on rebuilding Hogwarts.

 

Author's note:

I know a lot of you will be disappointed in this point, but I have realized that in order for me to tell the story I want, I cannot have Harry Potter have the experience of a Deputy Head Auror. If this is something that makes you give up this story, I sincerely apologize.

 

2. Harry Potter dies in Hogsmeade, not Potter Manor, when “Prometheus” launches his Britain-wide attack.

3. Alexander Fawley, a 40-years-old former Auror, dies in the Attack on Hogsmeade of 1999.

(Chapters 3, 4)

 

On the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the rebuilding of Hogwarts is completed, and Harry tells his friends that he will leave this world behind for good.

Later that day, Harry finds himself in Hogsmeade with a stranger called Fawley when the village was under attack. Both men are killed in that attack and Harry is forced to return to the past without having any knowledge of the First Wizarding War.

 

4. Harry Potter knows that “Prometheus” exists and speculates that he might be involved with the Attack on Hogsmeade of 1999, but he never encounters the man.

(Chapter 3)

 

Harry overhears a conversation between Head Auror Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They speculate that the strange Muggle attacks across Britain in 1998-99 are likely not done by the remnants of the Death Eaters, but by someone called “Prometheus.”

 

Author's note:

I want to focus more on Turais's relationship with Sirius and Regulus, but I need to justify the reason why he does not actively "look for" Prometheus.

 

5. Harry Potter still has access to the Deathly Hallows, but he is not more magically powerful than he already is.

(Chapter 5)

 

Harry Potter/ Turais Orion Black is a powerful wizard in his own right, but he is not supernaturally more powerful from being the Master of Death. For example, the Turais Black in my story will never overpower Dumbledore, but he could potentially go toe-to-toe with Dumbledore by the end of the story.

 

Author's note:

Similar to Point 1 above, I know a lot of you will be disappointed in this point because you enjoy OP!Harry, but I have realized that in order for me to tell the story I want, I cannot have an OP!Harry. If this is something that makes you give up this story, I sincerely apologize.

 

6. Harry Potter reincarnates as a 10-year-old Turais Orion Black and retains all of Turais's past childhood memories.

(Chapter 6)

 

Harry Potter reincarnates as a 10-year-old Turais Orion Black on the day of the fateful Malfoy Ball. At the Ball, he reveals his Parseltongue ability by accident.

 

7. When Harry Potter returns to the past, he first meets Alexander Fawley at the Malfoy Ball of 1969, not on the Hogwarts Express.

(Chapters 7, 9) 

 

Harry (as Turais) meets a lost Alexander Fawley at the Malfoy Ball. Therefore, they recognize each other at the lunch with Professor Slughorn on the Hogwarts Express.

 

8. The entire sub-plot about Sirius's Squib-fright no longer exists.

 

Sirius is never in fear of being a Squib.

 

Author's note:

Even when I was first writing these chapters two years ago, the events felt contrived and inorganic. I am glad I finally have the courage to go back and delete those parts.

 

9. Turais's meeting with Damocles and the Wolfsbane Potions subplot is shifted to Year 2.

 

10. The Group of Seven does not exist. Yaxley does not attack Turais with Crucio in 1st Year. Nott still manages to poison Turais in 2nd Year, but Turais does not die.

(Chapter 23-25)

 

Harry and Lucius Malfoy still fight for control and influence of the Slytherin House, but there will no longer be the rigid hierarchy of leaders as depicted in the original version. Additionally, Yaxley does not try to torture Turais.

 

Author's note:

Upon revision, I just found the House politics to be a tad ridiculous and unbearable. It also unnecessarily detracted my story. So, apologies to those who liked those scenes.

 

11. Turais's major argument with Orion after his poisoning does not occur.

(Chapters 23-25)

 

Turais still visits the Potter House in the Easter of 1971. However, it is precipitated by Dorea Black's invitation and not because Turais is actively avoiding Orion.

 

12. Nott, Dolohov, and Montague (not Avery) are the three students behind the plot to murder Turais.

13. The Arkenstones are not attacked.

(Chapters 25-29)

 

14. Nott, Dolohov, and Montague's murder trials are still underway (currently as of Chapter 62), and they are not broken out during the transit to Azkaban.

(Chapter 31)

15. The Wizengamot subplot now concerns the election of the Chief Warlock, not the Chair of Bill Appropriation Committee (BAC).

(Chapter 37)

 

Harold Minchum is successfully elected as the new Chief Warlock (the Wizarding psuedo-equivalent of the Speaker of the House).

 

Author's note:

This was done to tighten the plot lines.

 

16. The Resurrection Stone can only be used to summon those whom Turais shared a personal relationship with.

(Chapter 41)

 

Turais cannot summon Lord Fawley, Lord Montague, and the Wilkinses couple because he did not know them personally.

 

Author's note:

Even during the initial writing, I wanted to place a restriction on Turais's usage of the Stone. However, I didn't manage to find the proper time to introduce it. Upon revision, I found it problematic for the plotline if Turais could - in theory - randomly summon everyone that suffered a suspicious death.

 

17. Turais and Harold Minchum does not visit the Head Auror after the discovery of Head Wilkins's death; They did not "part ways" either.

(Chapters 55-56)

 

I have deleted the entire chapter regarding 1) Turais's visit to St. Mungo's to speak with the Head Auror Desmond Shafiq, 2) the subsequent Death Eater attack, and 3) Harold's decision to walk away. This means that Turais, currently, does not know who was behind Head Wilkins's murder as he could not summon his ghost either.

 


 

 

 


CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

DARK TIDINGS


 

BRIDGE FAILURE RESULTS IN FOUR DEATHS

Thomas Salisbury

 

         Exeter, Devon - The local fire department has confirmed that a portion of the Countess Wear bridge has collapsed into the river Exe October 26, resulting in the death of four local residents. Their bodies have been recovered several hundred meters downstream.

         The preliminary results from the Devon Field Office personnel assessed the site of the bridge on June 1. After the assessment, they suspect that the likely cause was a construction support fault from scouring under the raft foundation.

         However, the structure had just finished its upgrade less than one month prior to the incident...

 

***

 

          Turais followed Sirius and Severus back to the Slytherin table. He sat down across the table and proceeded to stare at them wordlessly. Severus continued to eat, seemingly not paying any mind to Turais's presence. On the other hand, Sirius had a look of calm resignation as if he was fully anticipating the pending conversation. Frankly, Turais was having a tiny meltdown of his own as he never imagined a world where Sirius and Severus would team up against James in any circumstance. Yet, here he was, staring down at that very situation that occurred without any sign or warning.

          Meeting Turais's stern gaze for a split second, Sirius froze before letting out a heavy sigh.

          "Yes, Turais. I know you are disappointed in me," Sirius admitted. "And yes, we are the ones who dangled Speccy - Ouch!"

          Sirius yelped before smacking the boy next to him on the shoulder. Reaching for his abused foot to massage it, he growled at Severus.

          "What did you kick me for?!"

          His words broke Severus's stoic appearance, who groaned out in frustration, "What is wrong with you Gryffindors?!"

          "I should be asking you this!" Sirius asked, affronted. "You're the one who kicked me for no reason!"

          Severus covered his face with his hands and muttered in a suffering tone, "I'm never associating myself with Gryffindors again." 

          "Nice little wordless spellcasting. Quite advanced for someone your age," Turais glared between the two second-years before settling his gaze on Severus. "And also something that you two absolutely should not be doing! I bet Ja-"

          "Don't say his name!" Sirius interjected loudly, bewildering Turais and causing him to lose his train of thoughts. "We shall refer to him as Speccy from now on. I don't want to hear his name within my earshot."

          Sirius's demand admittedly flustered Turais. Clearing his throat, the older boy tried and failed to maintain the severe tone in his voice, "You're not in a position to make demands, young man."

          Sirius immediately cowered, looking utterly abashed. With a tiny voice, he squeaked out an uncertain "Please?"

          "That's not the point -" Turais glanced at Sirius's pouting lips and sighed, "-  Anyhow, as I was saying! I wanted to say that Ja-" Sirius cleared his throat pointedly, "That -Speccy -"

          "Thanks, Turais," Sirius interrupted with a bright, dazzling smile, and Turais could feel his resolve to scold Sirius was collapsing in a spectacular fashion.

          "My point is that I cannot condone this type of behaviour," Turais finally managed to say. "But... Ja- Speccy deserves it, really, so I will let it slide this one time. Severus, please make sure you let him down in a few minutes, alright? Since no one else knows the counter charm."

          Sirius beamed at Turais and nudged Severus on the shoulder, "I told you Turais wouldn't mind!".

          However, Severus did not seem to be able to process the information as he sat in stunned silence.

          "I... you..." Severus stuttered as his eyes flitted around frantically. "I... how did you... What?!"

          "I also told you Turais would figure out your secret spell," Sirius added unhelpfully. "You're the one insisting that he would never be able to trace it back to you."

          Severus protested, "But... because it's impossible!"

          "Stop thinking too hard. You might hurt yourself," Sirius replied wryly. "The sooner you accept that Turais knows everything, the better it is for your sanity."

          "But how?!" Severus shouted as he stood up. Then, upon realizing that he had just caused a scene and all the attention was squarely on him, he quickly sat down and looked as if he wanted the ground to swallow him. He leaned forward and hissed, "I invented that spell myself! Last year! And no one knows about it!"

          "Well, he does now. Somehow," Sirius said, looking unperturbed, before he was distracted by the plates of food that suddenly appeared on the tables. "Ohhh, they are serving my favourite today!"

          "Did you invent that spell on your own as well?" Severus asked.

          "I..." Turais racked his mind for an explanation but found none. Lying, he said, "Sure..."

          Severus stared at Turais with bugged eyes for another long moment, making Turais shift uncomfortably under the weight of the boy's gaze. Finally, he gushed out quickly, "Can we exchange notes... at some point, if you are free? I have many ideas, but I have consistently encountered problems designing the wand movements."

          Severus looked up hopefully, and Turais, who did not know the first thing about inventing spells, could only reply with an awkward "Oh, of course." 

          Severus's face lit up and revealed a rare smile. Flushing slightly, he admitted, "I don't dare to ask anyone about my hobby because - you know - most people think inventing spells are a terrible waste of time and those who do this are spods..."

          Turais gave a terse smile and merely nodded along as Severus continued the conversation animatedly. When there was finally a lull, Sirius asked, "Is it just me, or have we not seen Alex around in a long time?"

          Evading the question, Turais declared, "You two should let J- Speccy down, now."

          Sirius immediately threw down his fork and shouted enthusiastically, "On it!" as he dragged a disgruntled Severus with him.

          Turais turned his attention back to his swirling mug of tea and his disturbed thoughts until he was distracted by a quiet hoot over his head. Glancing upwards lazily, Turais saw a school owl drop a tiny scroll into his hand before flying off. Unrolling it, he found a piece of parchment that wrote:

Tomes and Scrolls, Botany section. 11 a.m. I will be alone.

        Amongst all craziness, Turais had almost forgotten about the upcoming Hogsmeade Weekend and the reunion between Narcissa and Andromeda.

         Instinctively, Turais looked up and down the Slytherin table for the presence of the writer. However, Narcissa was nowhere to be seen. He scrunched up the note and ignited it with a tiny flame and watched as the parchment curled and blackened into ashes under his gaze.

          On the day of the first Hogsmeade Weekend in almost a year, Turais climbed behind the One-Eyed Witch and walked twenty minutes in the near-complete darkness until he reached the end of the tunnel. Pointing his wand around him found a ladder leading to a wooden trapdoor above. Carefully loosening the hinge, Turais pushed the door upwards and peeked through the tiny gap. In his line of vision, he could see boxes of sweets directly in front of him. Hearing no noise, Turais opened the door higher and found himself in the basement. Turais climbed up the ladder and summoned his Cloak of Invisibility, which he immediately swung over his body.

          Unlike the last time he used the secret passageway, Honeydukes was packed to the brim with visiting students on their first visit to the neighbouring village since the warehouse explosion almost a year ago.

          Turais shoved past distracted and confused students onto the bustling High Street with much difficulty and quickly made his way to Tomes and Scrolls. Waiting patiently for an opportunity, he swiftly entered through the opened door after a pair of exiting students. Scanning his environment as he wandered through the store, Turais spotted Narcissa's well-tied-up hair between the shelves.

          "Narcissa," Turais whispered. The girl gasped in surprise as she closed the book in her hands with a loud clap. Looking around and making sure that no one could see him, Turais lifted his Cloak to reveal his face.

          "Where is Andy?" Narcissa responded with an urgent hiss.

          "Hog's Head," Turais responded. "I told her to arrive in fifteen minutes. Are you sure you are not going to be missed by your... acquaintances?"

          "I laced their morning pumpkin juices with Sleeping Draught and hid them in a broom closet," Narcissa replied quickly. "They will be dead to the world until supper."

          Turais nodded and said, "Now, hide under this Cloak."

          Narcissa gave the Cloak a stern look-over before she closed her eyes and breathed out heavily. Then, she nodded as Turais swung the fabric over her head. The two cousins then crept out of the store, careful to not reveal their presence to anyone.

          Reaching Hog's Head, Turais tore the Cloak off the both of them and knocked on the door.

          "So, you again, huh?" Aberforth grunted as he opened the door and saw Turais. Then, he cast his gaze further and saw a hesitant Narcissa looking around the decrepit building with a scowl on her face.

          "This should cover the business you lose today," Turais said as he handed over a heavy coin pouch. "Thank you for doing me this favour."

          Aberforth took the pouch and opened the door fully.

          "If you need anything, I'll be at the bar," the man said as he walked away.

          "This is your grand plan?" Narcissa hissed as she examined the surface of a nearby table with unveiled disgust. "Renting out a seedy pub?"

          Turais closed his eyes and took a calming breath as the door opened again to reveal a freckled, red-haired woman with bushy hair. Her gaze fell onto Narcissa, and her entire expression lit up in unbridled joy and happiness.

          "Cissy!" The woman cried in delight as she tried to hug Narcissa. However, the younger woman immediately walked backwards to avoid any physical contact.

          "Who are you?" Narcissa bit out caustically.

          The woman frowned as she suddenly seemed to recall something. "Cissy, I am Andromeda. I am Polyjuiced right now." 

          "Oh..." Narcissa said as she relaxed slightly. However, she remained rooted in her spot, looking uncomfortable to be closer to her sister due to the disguise. "Andy... Are... are you fit to consume Polyjuice Potion so soon?"

          Andromeda smiled and said, "The Healers told me I am recovering well and that two half doses will not be of any concern."

          "That's good," Narcissa said.

          Meanwhile, Turais's eyes were drawn to the couple standing behind Andromeda and watching the Black family with a hint of nervousness. The woman was slightly plump and wore a worn-out, brown fur coat over her floral dress, while the man was in a yellow robe with frayed edges and bare threads jutting out of the fabric. Between the two adults was a toddler staring up at Turais with big eyes in utter fascination as he sucked on his thumb messily.

          "Molly -" Turais said aloud before he could catch himself. He flushed and amended, "I mean... Mr and Mrs Weasley."

          "Oh, dear me," Mrs Weasley said. She glanced at her husband questioningly before turning back to Turais. "Have we... met before, by any chance?"

          "I'm sure we haven't," Turais said immediately while thinking of a good cover story to tell. "But the red hair does offer a clue. I suppose it was a lucky guess."

          Then, the toddler gave a tiny whine as he raised his arms and gestured for his father to pick him up. The man beamed at his son and immediately lifted him into his arms with a grunt.

          Andromeda eyed the group and stepped up to introduce everyone.

          "Molly, Arthur. So, this is my younger sister, Narcissa. And this is my cousin, Turais. Narcissa, Turais, these are my friends, Molly and Arthur Weasley. They were gracious enough to ask her relative for a strand of hair so I can pretend to be Molly's cousin who is going on a shopping trip at Hogsmeade with them."

          Narcissa narrowed her eyes at the couple and nodded stiffly while Turais offered a warm smile. It was then that Turais realized that Molly Weasley had a protective hand over her large, rounded belly.

          She was pregnant.

          "Mo... Mrs Weasley, please come in," Turais said hastily as he moved to let the couple inside. "You mustn't stay in the cold for long."

          Molly strutted across the threshold with a bit of difficulty, and Turais held out a hand to support her. "Well, thank you very much, my dear."

          The group walked past Aberforth to the back of the pub and out of view of any passers-by. Andromeda and Narcissa sat next to each other while Arthur and Turais helped Molly into her seat. A wince of exhaustion flashed across the mother's face as she breathed laboriously.

          "I do apologize for all the trouble you went through for our family," Turais said with a worried frown. 

          "Aren't you a sweet boy?" Molly chuckled as she patted Turais's cheek. "This isn't our first time around. Arthur and I know what we are doing. But I can use a drink. All this travelling is making me quite thirsty."

          "Anything you would like to have?" Turais stood up immediately. "None of the alcoholic offerings, of course."

          "Well, my wife would not object to a cherry syrup with soda," Arthur said as he squeezed his wife's hand. Molly gave her husband an adoring smile in return. Meanwhile, the toddler was standing in Arthur's lap as he looked around inquisitively.

          "And a Knotgrass Mead for you, Ar... I mean, Mr Weasley?" Turais asked.

          "I... uh - why yes, please," Arthur said in surprise as Turais silently berated himself for his slip of the tongue. "And a glass of milk for little William -"

          "Juice!" Young little William squealed as he placed both hands on his father's cheeks and squished them.

          "You heard the little man," Arthur said fondly as he tried to stop William from placing his tiny hand over his lips. "A tiny glass of apple juice. Orange juice is fine as well -"

          "Want juice!" William screamed excitedly.

          "Yes, William wants juice," Arthur laughed as he tapped a finger on William's nose, who immediately scrunched his face adorably.

          Turais smiled at the scene before he turned to his cousins. "And what would you two like?"

          "Red currant rum for me," Andromeda said. She turned to her sister and asked, "And you will have your usual chocolate liqueur, Cissy?"

          Narcissa nodded quietly. 

          "Four drinks coming right up, and a juice for William," Turais said as he excused himself and delivered the order to Aberforth at the bar table.

          "Are you sure you are allowed to be here?" Aberforth asked as he started making the beverages.

          Turais feigned ignorance. "What do you mean?"

          "The Headmaster sent out a list with the names of students permitted to leave school. I know that you are not on the list."

          Turais froze.

          "Will you notify him of my presence?" Turais asked.

          Aberforth glanced up at Turais's expression for a brief moment, then at the only occupied table in the pub, before continuing his task.

          "No," he finally grunted out as he placed the orders on a tray. "It's none of my business, and I'd hate to lose you as a patron."

          There was something left unspoken in the man's words, and Turais was grateful that Aberforth was not about to tattle on him to Dumbledore. 

          "Thank you," Turais replied. "I appreciate it."

          The barkeeper grunted once before turning around and tended to his other duties. Turais returned to the table with the beverages and found that Andromeda had already transformed into her normal appearance. Narcissa was visibly more relaxed as she leaned towards her sister with a small smile on her face. However, she was still guarded by the Weasleys' presence as Turais caught her glancing at the couple uncomfortably on multiple occasions.

          "Mr and Mrs Weasley," Turais said as he set the drinks down on the table. "Why don't we sit over there?"

          "Of course, why not?" Arthur said easily as Turais caught a grateful nod from Andromeda. Once they were a comfortable distance away from the Black sisters, Turais did his best to make conversation with the Weasleys as they started to discuss Arthur's job.

          "So, Mr Weasley, you are currently working at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?' Turais inquired.

          "Yes!" Arthur replied enthusiastically as he patted his son's back rhythmically. The boy was now draped over Arthur's left shoulder, boneless, as he enjoyed a short nap. "Mostly, my work consists of keeping enchanted objects from Muggles. It occurs surprisingly often. Just two months ago, I received a case in which a Muggle woman ended up with a bewitched tea-set that attacked her friends when she tried to use it. One poor man suffered from serious burns, and the rest of them were traumatized. I had to call in the Healers, Obliviators, and the Curse-Breakers, and I worked overtime for weeks. I have never seen so much paperwork in my life."

          "I hope it is rewarding work," Turais said.

          "It is," Arthur said proudly. "But it doesn't pay nearly as well as my wife hopes for."

          "Oh hush, dear," Molly admonished lightly as she gave a light slap on Arthur's chest. "Why would to say that in front of the poor boy? How do you want him to react?" Looking at Turais, Molly smiled warmly as her eyes crinkled, "Arthur enjoys his job immensely, we have a growing family, and we are in good health. That is all one can really hope for, isn't it?"

          "Indeed," Arthur said as his expression turned solemn. "Have you read the newspaper lately? Those poor Muggles... They were brutally murdered even though they did nothing wrong... And for it to be Dark wizards... how terrible..."

          Turais looked up in surprise.

          "Those Muggle deaths were related to Dark wizards?" 

          Arthur gave Turais a grim nod.

          "Andy Smudgley just broke the news this morning that several of the high-profile muggle accidents were by the hands of Dark wizards. Now, my bet is that the culprits are those damned souls who call themselves the Knights -"

          "Arthur!" Molly interrupted as she cast a worried glance at Turais. "That is quite bold of you to talk about such grotesque matters in front of a child."

          "Dear, he will read it in the Prophet or somewhere else -"

          "But you don't need to be the one to tell him," Molly huffed as she placed her hands on her hips in a huff.

          Under Molly's urging, the two males steered their conversation back to safer territories until Turais saw Narcissa and Andromeda rise from their seats.

          "Leaving now, dear?" Molly asked as the sisters broke apart from their hug.

          Narcissa hid her face and dabbed her cheeks with a silk handkerchief as Andromeda responded, "Yes, Molly. My sister has other business to attend to, unfortunately."

          The younger sister turned around and gave a stiff nod. Except for her slightly red-rimmed eyes, her expression betrayed none of her emotions otherwise.

          "Very well," Molly said as she rummaged her purse and pulled out another corked bottle of red liquid. "Here's another thirty minutes' worth of Polyjuice Potion, Andy."

          Andromeda's hands continued to hold his sister's tightly until she reluctantly released them to take the proffered Potion.

          "Next time we see each other, I will bring Nymphadora along so you can meet your niece," Andromeda said with a quiver in her voice.

          Narcissa's eyes shone brightly. Sparkling tears welled up inside them and conveyed the unspoken longing between the two sisters. She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded once jerkily.

          Andromeda then turned to Turais and gave him a quick hug, "Thank you for arranging this, Turais. Words cannot describe how grateful I am."

          "Don't mention it, Andy," Turais said. "I am glad to see you well. Please send Ted my regards."

          "Of course," Andromeda said. She gave Turais's hand a quick squeeze.

          "Goodbye, Mr and Mrs Weasley," Turais said. He was also slightly choked up at the thought of not knowing when he would meet the Weasleys again.

          "See you later, Turais," Molly said with a warm smile. "It was nice meeting you. Take care."

          "You as well."

          Turais draped the Cloak of Invisibility over himself and held the other half of fabric for Narcissa. With a parting glance, they left Hog's Head behind. Once they were back in Tomes and Scrolls, Narcissa emerged from beneath Turais's Cloak.

          "I'll do my best to arrange for two of you to meet again," Turais whispered curtly as he was about to disappear beneath the Cloak.

          "Turais..." Narcissa said as Turais paused in his movements. "I... Thank you. Is there anything I can do in return?"

          Turais saw the genuine gratitude on his cousin's face. With a contented smile, he shook his head and said, "You and Andy's happiness is my payment."

          With that, Turais turned and left.

 

***

 

          Turais had barely entered the common room when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked around only to find a darkened expression on Jonty's face as the other boy panted heavily.

          "I've been trying to find you everywhere!" 

          "What is it, Jonty?" Turais said in alarm.

          Jonty dragged Turais to a nearby private nook and pressed a piece of crumpled paper into Turais's palm.

          "This is the pre-print for tomorrow's Prophet," Jonty hissed as Turais unfolded the paper. At Turais's questioning gaze, Jonty added, "More on that later."

          He pointed at the large, bold heading that caught Turais's attention immediately.

          Howard Fawley Declared Missing

          Turais's eyes widened as he scanned through the entire paragraph.

The disappearance of Howard Fawley, 49, was first reported by an abnormal magical disturbance at the Fawley Manor. After the DMLE had conducted a search of the premises, they had failed to locate Mr Howard Fawley. Instead, they discovered multiple signs of magical decay, including two free house-elves suffering from Servitude Withdrawal Syndrome. According to the examination, the house-elves seemed to be in such a state for several months. They soon recovered after his son, Alexander Fawley, 14, re-established the bonds of servitude. 

"With the permission of his family, we have set up Monitoring Charms around the Manor to detect the magical signature of Mr Howard Fawley," a spokesperson for the Auror Offices stated. "Our monitors are still able to detect a weak signal, and we remain hopeful that we will be able to locate Mr Fawley."

The current Study of Ancient Runes Professor and a consultant of the case, Bodrick Mather, expressed skepticism of the positive outlook. "House-elves are highly attuned to the magical signature of their owners. It is also well-established that as long as a wizard is functional in magical terms, his signature will remain stable regardless of physical, mental, or physiological state. If the house-elves' condition was anything to go by, I am doubtful that Mr Howard Fawley remains in the world of the living."

However, the Professor did note that the case is highly unusual and that he had never seen such a strange decay of the magical signature.

"A person's magical signature is generally quite clear-cut. Either you are alive, and you have one, or you are dead, and you do not have one. I have not encountered a case in which the person exhibits a decayed signature for such a prolonged period of time."

According to the Statue of the Presumption of Death, when the Monitor readings for a missing individual's magical signature return negative for a continuous period of nine months, the Coroner's Court will declare the missing person as legally dead...

          Turais slumped against the cold, damn wall as he tried to process the information.

          "Is this true?" he gasped. A look at Jonty's helpless expression only served to confirm the dreadful news.

          Alex's behaviour and a meeting with the Aurors finally made sense. Holding the crinkled newspaper in his hand, Turais searched the castle grounds until he found Alex sitting in the same place since their last conversation last week. Unlike the last two times, it was a gusty day as the cold wind blew heavily across the fading landscape.

          At the approaching footsteps, Alex said without looking up, "I told Jonty not to be a busybody. He never listens, does he?"

          Turais didn't know what to say. No words seemed adequate to address this situation.

          "So, I'm all alone now," Alex said numbly. "With no one left."

          As Harry Potter, he grew up knowing that he was an orphan and accepted that he was alone in this world. But for Alex, he grew up knowing his family, and now, everything was ripped away from him one by one until there was nothing left. 

          Alex was correct. Turais thought he knew loss, but he only suffered a fraction of the pain that befell the lonely figure in front of him.

          "Why didn't you tell me?" Turais asked softly. "We can... we can -"

          "So you can what?" Alex asked lightly. Something about the despondence in Alex's voice chilled Turais's heart. There was no anger nor frustration in his voice, but only a sort of melancholic resignation. "I know you like to fix things. But there are simply things that are beyond all of our control... Such as seeing my mother and brother again..."

          Turais squeezed his eyes shut and closed his hands into tight fists as he mustered all the will inside him from reaching for the obvious solution.

          The Resurrection Stone.

          Yes, he always knew that the Resurrection Stone was the answer to Alex's want. But much like the cautionary tale, to utilize it would be to head down a dangerous path that he did not want to risk. 

          To see something that you can never truly have...

          His cruel inaction would be kinder to Alex.

          But the inner turmoil and the weight of his decision drained Turais. Dejected, Turais sat down next to Alex with nothing else to offer but his unsolicited - and perhaps, unwelcomed - companionship. Despite all his sound reasoning, he felt as if he failed Alex somehow.

          When would it be the end of the tragedies in Alex's world? Did the boy not suffer enough already?

          "I'm sorry..." Turais whispered into the bitter wind. "I'm so terribly sorry."

          Alex remained silent for a long time with his eyes trained on the inky, black waters before them. Then, he finally spoke again, softly, "Why me? I've asked myself this question many times before. Why me?..." Standing up, Alex looked up into the grey, overcast sky and shouted, "Why are you so cruel to me? What have I done to deserve this?! Huh?! Why? WHY? WHY?!" 

          Along his anguished scream, a streak of white electric energy shot out from the tip of Alex's wand and pierced through the clouds. A loud rumble that sounded like a thunderous explosion vibrated violently through the air before the entire sky lit up in a blinding white that illuminated the entire school grounds.

          Turais raised his arm to block out the light. However, it only lasted for a short while before the light receded and everything turned back into the usual gloomy greyness. There was a strange stillness in the air, thick with tension, that was only filled by the sound of Alex's panting.

          Stunned by the immense display of magic, Turais looked at his friend with his eyes widened.

          "Alex..." 

          The boy was staring at the wand clutched tightly in his hand, seemingly shocked by his action as well. However, the boy masked his surprise quickly and muttered, "Let's head back."

          Without waiting for a response, Alex turned on his heels and walked towards the staircase. Turais watched Alex's departing figure for a moment before he followed.

          "Alex," Turais gasped. "Alex, stop." 

          However, the other boy continued to walk resolutely despite Turais's words.

          "Alex, stop. Please."

          Upon hearing the final, pleading word, Alex halted as he allowed Turais to catch up to him. Turais walked around to the front of the boy and placed both hands on Alex's shoulders. However, the other boy tilted his head sideways as he stared at a distant point without meeting Turais's gaze. 

          "No," Turais whispered as he took in the upper teeth that were biting down on the trembling lips and the misty eyes under the morning rays. "No."

          "What do you mean -"

          Before Alex could finish the sentence, Turais stepped forward and enveloped his friend in a crushing embrace. 

          "You are wrong, Alex. So, so wrong," Turais said fiercely. "You are wrong to think that you are all alone in this world. You are wrong to think you should not tell me about this because there is nothing I can do. We are best friends, Alex. We share each other's success, happiness, and most importantly, our sadness and pains. I might not fully understand what you are going through, Alex, but tell me. Help me understand so I can be here for you."

          "Turais..." Alex said with a strangled voice before a series of wrecked sobs rocked his entire body. Then, Turais felt Alex reach his arms around his back in a reciprocating, tight squeeze. "I'm so scared... I don't know what to do... I don't have anyone left..."

          "You have me, Alex," Turais replied soothingly as he continued to pat on Alex's back. "You have Jonty. You have Sirius. You have Regulus -"

          "But I don't want you to die, Turais!" Alex cried wetly as he shoved Turais away with a pained expression. "I don't want you to die because of me..."

          "What do you mean?"

          "I... I think I am cursed..." Alex muttered almost hysterically. "Everyone around me is dying..."

          "Oh, silly boy," Turais whispered soothingly. "There is no curse that will kill people by association -"

          "Then how do you explain my parents? My brother? Now, my entire family?"

          "I... I..."

          "See! You can't explain it."

          "I can't explain what happened to your family, Alex!" Turais implored. "But believe me that there is no curse beneath the sun that will kill people by association. If there is one, there would be none of us left, would there?!"

          Alex gasped a large breath but found himself unable to refute what Turais said. Sagging his shoulders, he muttered, "You don't know that for sure..."

          "I'm saying that right this moment. And I will repeat it until you believe it," Turais said firmly. Seeing Alex's persistent frown, Turais changed tacks. "Hey, you told me in our first year that I will go on to achieve greatness because of my wand. And my aspirations for greatness are properly massive. Therefore, I'm less than a fraction of the way to my goal, and there is no way I will die anytime soon. Does that make sense?"

          Alex pondered for a moment before nodding bravely. Tears were glistening in his eyes as he hugged Turais tightly. 

         "Silly boy," Turais said as he returned the hug. "Promise me you will not close yourself off. I'm always here to lend an ear, alright?"

         Alex's eyes turned a bit misty again as he nodded.

         "Thank you," he said quietly. "I just... want to thank you for being my friend."

         "You don't have to thank me for that..."

         "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me since… since the accident, Turais," Alex whispered fervently. "Thank you."

         Words failed Turais as he decided the only appropriate response was a sincere acceptance of the gratitude.

         "And thank you for being in my life as well."

 

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed the tiny cameo from the Weasleys!

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed! I love reading all of them even if I do not have time to respond!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-02-05

Chapter 63: Appendices I - IV & Update - An Unlikely Encounter

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it! Please also comment on the recent revisions. I would love to hear your thoughts!

I have included the appendices because I have created a lot of backstory for this world and I decided it would be fun to share it with you all. I don't know if other stories do this, but I hope it will be an enriching experience that allows you to be more immersed in my world!

- ravenclawblues 2022-02-13

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Appendix I - Peerage System and Forms of Addresses in Wizarding Britain

(modified version retroactively posted on Chapter 7: The Malfoy Ball)

 

 

- The Black Family Tree and Titles -

 

As there is no Wizarding equivalent of the British peerage system, I have decided to create a slightly devolved version based on the muggle one.

Unlike the muggle version, the peerage title is not historically tied to territorial designations but, instead, is linked to having a hereditary "family seat" in the Wizengamot. Therefore, the title "Lord XXX" is exclusively based on the family's surname (and occasionally, his first name as well), such as "Lord Black" or "Lord Hector Fawley." Lord Malfoy will never be addressed as "Lord Wiltshire" because his Manor is located at Wiltshire. The wife of the titleholder will be "Lady <surname of her husband>." Hence, Melania, wife of Arcturus, has the title of "Lady Black."  

In another departure from the muggle system, there is only one rank of nobility. As a result, there are no courtesy or subsidiary titles for the Wizarding Lord's eldest son to use. Therefore, I have created an entirely separate title of "Master <surname>" for the Heir Apparent - the one set to inherit the title of Lord upon the Lord's death. Arcturus's son, Orion, is the Heir Apparent to the family seat of the Blacks. Hence, his title is "Master Black." The Heir Apparent's wife will have the title of "Mistress <surname of her husband>." Therefore, Walburga has the title of "Mistress Black."

The Lord's eldest son, other than his Heir Apparent, will have the title of "Mister <surname>," and the eldest daughter will have the title of "Miss <surname>." Lucretia has the title of "Miss Black," while Orion's hypothetical younger brother will be called "Mister Black." If Orion has a third brother or sister, they will be be addressed as "Mister <first name> <surname>" and "Miss <first name> <surname>".

The eldest grandson of the Lord through the senior male line will have the title of "Master <first name> <surname>" to differentiate his title from his father's. Therefore, Turais, the eldest son of Arcturus's Heir Apparent, Orion, has the title of "Master Turais Black." His hypothetical wife will be addressed in the format of "Mistress <first name> <surname of her husband>." All other members of the family will have the title of "Mister <first name> <surname>" or "Miss <first name> <surname>" with no distinction of seniority. Therefore, Sirius and Regulus are "Mister Sirius Black" and "Mister Regulus Black."

A correspondence to "Master Black" will always be to Orion, not Turais or Arcturus. A letter for “Mister Black” will always be for Orion's hypothetical second brother, not to Sirius or Regulus.

However, due to the impracticality of constantly addressing everyone by their titles in a conversation, it is generally agreed that casual acquaintances will initially greet one another with their full titles before reverting back to first names or "Mister/ Miss <surname>" unless otherwise stated. Between close friends, they can mutually agree to drop the formal titles, depending on the familiarity between the pair and the setting of the conversation. For the addressed to insist upon using their formal titles will be viewed as either: 1) a deliberate attempt by the addressed to disassociate themselves from the addressor or 2) a sign of pretentiousness. Turais had used this against Lucius Malfoy in Chapter 12 and Tiberius McLaggen in Chapter 38. However, the addressor could, conversely, ignore the warning and risk the ire of the addressed, as shown by McLaggen against Turais in Chapters 38 and 42.

Of course, all of this only matters to a certain segment of the Wizarding society that holds this formality - which they deem as a pureblood tradition - in high regard. These families frequently address each other with these titles and treat the impeccable usage of them as an indication of proper upbringing. Therefore, Turais - being a son of the Black family - is surrounded by those well-versed in such addresses.

On the other end of the spectrum are those who view the title of Lord merely as a business title. They believe that the titles should only be used within the Wizengamot and disregarded beyond those chambers. Therefore, they rarely use their titles in public and never address their sons as "Master." The Potter family is an example of that (Hence, in Chapter 31, James was confused when Orion addressed him as "Master Potter").

There is also a third group of people who are well-acquainted with these addresses out of necessity or are ambivalent about its usage. An example of the former would be Ministry officials or elected representatives in the Wizengamot. An example of the latter would be Mr Ollivander, who would decide whether to use the formal titles depending on his knowledge of his customers' inclinations.

Finally, there is a tiny wrinkle in all of this in regards to house-elves and how they address their masters. When addressing the head of household, usually the Lord of the family, they will refer to him as “Master <surname>.” All other family members will be addressed as “Master <first name>,” such as “Master Orion” or “Master Turais,” or simply as “Master.” 

 


 

Appendix II - The Composition of the Wizengamot

(retroactively posted on Chapter 37: The Lone Wolf)

 

   

- Composition of the Wizengamot by functionality and ideology -

 

The composition of the Wizengamot is officially defined by the functionality of the seat and its selection process. There are three main categories of seats: 1) Functional Constituencies, 2) Geographical Constituencies, and 3) Hereditary Constituencies.

Of the 77 seats in the Wizengamot, four (4) are functional constituencies that are tied to the offices of Minister for Magic, Under-Secretary, Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Head of Hogwarts. Twelve (12) are geographical constituencies that are elected from and by the general Wizarding electorate.

The remaining sixty-one (61) seats are hereditary family seats that are passed down the generations within the family. As family seats can only be represented by the patriarchs of that family, the death of a Lord and the lack of an extant male line would result in the permanent loss of that family seat. Due to a rule change adopted by the Wizengamot in 1804, this family seat will then transition into a new geographical constituency seat.

However, the general Wizarding population is more acquainted with the Wizengamot divided based on ideological fault lines, which is partially due to the narrative being favoured by the newspaper and other media outlets. Traditionally, the Wizengamot members cast their votes based on each bill and their individual merits. However, blood purity has become an increasingly influential matter that predominated over virtually all Wizengamot affairs in recent decades. From mundane affairs such as Portkey travel safety measures to contentious subjects such as increasing the Aurors force's prosecution powers or dismantling blood wards, all matters would inevitably turn into a debate over prejudice and blood purity. This effectively split the members into different factions based on their ideological similarities.

The Light alliance - a term associated with families who historically lived alongside muggles - is more welcoming and supportive of muggleborn integration and eliminating systemic inequalities. Their views frequently align with those of the Ministry, which is elected by the general electorate. Thus, they are natural allies in the Wizengamot. Conversely, the Grey alliance and Dark alliance are warier of those changes, especially as most families are well-established in the community and deeply entrenched with various business ventures. While the Dark alliance outright rejects any changes to the status quo, the Grey alliance is less extremist and more pragmatic towards those issues. However, both alliances took significant issue with the Ministry's strong-arming of bills through the Wizengamot with their slim majority, forcing them into an uneasy coalition that fell apart due to the poisoning of the Black heir.

Finally, there are the unaffiliated "swing votes" composed mainly of the elected representatives and Lord Fleamont Potter. Lord Potter is widely considered a "maverick" because the Potters are historically aligned with the Light families. However, he has also not hesitated on bucking his traditional allies on key issues, such as the UTWATS bill.

 


 

Appendix III - A Brief History of Elected Representation in the Wizengamot

(retroactively posted on Chapter 38: Echoes of Future Past)

 

 

- Geographical Constituencies of the Elected Seats of the Wizengamot -

 

Voting for the local representatives to the Wizengamot during the regular Ministerial elections has become a rather mundane, or even uninteresting, experience for most of the Wizarding electorate. Therefore, it is hard to imagine that merely a century and a half ago, the introduction of elected representatives was a bold, revolutionary idea that stemmed out of necessity. To understand the significance of this change, one must look back to a time before the creation of the Ministry and the Wizengamot itself.

It was the 11th century when Wizarding families lived in isolated pockets of communities that dotted across the British Isles. This was a time before the invention of the Floo Powder and when the magic of Apparition had yet to be discovered. Therefore, communication and contact between communities were limited and far and few in between. However, everything changed during the Norman Conquest when muggle England was undergoing major upheavals with armies sweeping the lands and laying sieges on towns and villages. This proved to be too great a problem for any isolated pocket of Wizarding communities to handle by themselves. After great difficulties, messengers and representatives from every Wizarding community gathered together in one location to discuss the solutions on how to weather the crisis.

This marked the turning point in history as the Wizarding populace realized there was safety in numbers, especially given that the muggles far outnumbered the Wizarding population. Hence, the Wizards' Council was formed to share information in times of need. Over the next two centuries, its function as an assembly solely for crisis management slowly evolved into a deliberative body with regularly scheduled meetings where communities could voice their concerns on day-to-day businesses.

Membership during the time was fluid in both composition and number. Anyone available and willing to travel the great distances was welcomed to a seat at the table. However, with the invention of the Floo and the discovery of Apparition, these meetings became more accessible as more and more people wished to raise personal matters at the meetings. The rapid population increase during the 16th century also exacerbated the issue as meetings became unruly and dysfunctional. Finally, in 1590, the Wizard's Council codified the number of members to two hundred and apportioned them to every village across the British Isles. Then, each village sent its representatives to the meeting to speak on behalf of the village.

By the twilight era of the Wizard's Council in the late 17th century, it was common for each village to assign a certain family as their representative. For example, the Potters showed up at the meetings representing Godric's Hallow for two continuous centuries. As a result, the Council became a gathering of familiar faces with an increasingly stagnant membership of families involved.

With the dissolution of the Wizard's Council and the formation of the Ministry of Magic following the ratification of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, the former members of the Wizard's Council were naturally inducted into the newly-formed Wizengamot without raising much concern from the populace. However, by the time people realized that the seats created were hereditary and unable to be transferred to other families, it was already too late. In addition, the families selected to sit in the Wizengamot saw little reason to change the rules and remove their privilege.

Over the course of time, some families with a seat in the Wizengamot went extinct in the male line. As a result, the membership in the chamber started to decrease. Despite calls to reform the Wizengamot and induct new members, most members in the Wizengamot resisted the changes and guarded their political power jealously as each elimination of a family seat meant an increase in political power for the remaining families.

This fact spurred certain families to commit unspeakable crimes with fanatical thoughts of establishing a Wizarding monarchy that could rule over Wizarding Britain much like their muggle counterparts. Nine families, known as the "Notorious Nine," banded together to eliminate all the other families with seats in the Wizengamot, which culminated in the War of Inheritance of 1799. In this turbulent era, assassinations were rampant as Lords and heirs were callously murdered in broad daylight. In five years, the membership in the Wizengamot plummeted by half with only seventy-three Lords remaining.

Lord Canopus Black and Lord Hardwin Potter came together on behalf of the Dark and Light families in light of the violence. Together, they led their coalitions to defeat the Notorious Nine and to banish them to Azkaban for life. Then, they agreed to strip those families of their seats and turn them into elected seats, which could be voted for and elected by the general populace. Furthermore, in order to ensure that this terrible atrocity would never happen again, they agreed that any family seats that were vacated in the future would transition into open, elected seats. Notably, individuals that were already represented through family seats were not allowed to vote in the Ministerial elections. As a result, the power of the Wizengamot would gradually return to the populace and also deter anyone from trying to gain power through murdering their fellow Lords.

Since then, the Wizengamot had enjoyed an era of peace that saw four additional family seats transition into elected seats.

As of 1972, the Wizengamot has twelve elected representatives, each representing a different geographical constituency of Wizarding Britain and an equal number of electorates. One of which is the elected seat of West Country, which encompasses Godric's Hallow and Wiltshire, and is currently represented by the Honourable Mr Harold Minchum. The most populous region is the Scottish Highlands (where Hogwarts and the all-Wizarding Hogsmeade are located) with Sussex and Kent in a close second (where the predominately Wizarding village of Ottery St Catchpole is located). Unlike the muggle, few wizarding families reside in London despite the Ministry of Magic located there as they prefer to keep their distance from muggles. However, the Black family is a notable exception as they would rather endure the presence of the Muggles and live apart from potential prying Wizarding neighbours.

 


 

Appendix IV - The Story of Aeneas Black

(beginning and ending excerpts from Chapter 13: A Very Grimmauld Christmas) 

 

          "And what is the story behind this?" Alex asked as he walked up to another tapestry and watched three medieval wizards in slashed and bloodied robes aim their wands, one in each hand, towards a gigantic beast that dwarfed the mountains it stood beside. It has seven dragon-like heads with red, flaming eyes, and each was attached to a long, scaly neck connected to a serpent's body. Knots of vibrant green threads appeared at the tips of their wands as they wove six straight lines across the tapestry towards the serpentine monster.

          "Odysseus, Aeneas, and Theseus Black," Turais breathed out immediately before his mind could even register the question. Just as he wondered who they were, the answer was supplied in his mind as he spoke, "They were three brothers who fought together and rid the world of the monstrous Hydra."

          "Hydra?" Alex asked. "I didn't know Hydra was an actual magical creature."

          "It was," Turais replied. Somehow, he knew his answer was the truth deep in his gut. "My ancestors killed it, as shown here."

          "Why were they holding two wands each?"

          "They were supposedly holding the wands of their fallen kins after battling against the Hydra for three days and three nights," Turais explained. Then, his eyes focused on the minute details of Aeneus's features: the sharpness of his eyes, gritted teeth, and tousled black hair. "And as the story goes, the Hydra can only be destroyed if its longest head was severed as it provides the regenerative powers that could heal the other six. However, the seventh head must be destroyed last. This creates a difficult conundrum for those who wished to destroy this monster. However, Aeneas, the wisest and noblest of the three brothers, came up with the plan to cast six Killing Curses simultaneously, one at each of the six heads. He would then sever the last one before the other six could regenerate once more."

          Images of two bloodied men flashed across his mind that looked similar to Odysseus and Theseus. However, they seemed to be looking down at him with expressions filled with unspoken grief and pain. Everything felt like a hazy, distant memory, but Turais couldn't have previously met them.

          "I suppose they succeeded then?" Alex asked. "Seeing that they lived to tell the tale -"

          Turais gasped and held his head as the entire story flooded his mind.

 

***

 

          Aeneas stood atop the giant rock that overlooked the devastated landscape as he stared at the monstrous being resolutely. The Hydra unleashed a thunderous, unearthly roar of rage from all of its seven heads. The sound waves ripped through the air and discharged with a force that shook the heavens and earth.

          Despite the horrific display, Aeneas knew that the monster was weakened as its movements turned sluggish and its heads hung tiredly.

          However, it was the same for him and his two brothers.

          It had been three long days and nights. All three men were battered, bloodied, bruised… and an inch away from collapsing onto the ground. In that time, the heavily vegetated land had turned as barren and lifeless as the driest desert mentioned in the legendary stories reserved for the most wicked of souls. Odysseus, his elder, was heaving heavily with a bloodied face. He sustained a broken nose as he barely escaped death by a falling tree flung at him by the Hydra. Theseus, his younger, covered his left arm with his right hand as the blood continued to seep through the piece of cloth that covered his wound.

          Aeneas's brothers and kins fought tirelessly against the Hydra, but not once did doubt cross their minds about Aeneas's leadership. Not when Pirithous fell on the first day… Not when Admetus collapsed on the second… and not when Acis took in his last breath on the third. Despite not looking, Aeneas knew they were lying on the lifeless barren land, broken and unavenged.

          "Brother," Theseus gasped tiredly, but the steely determination remained in his voice. "What do we do?"

          Aeneas did not dare look back as the debilitating sense of guilt and shame continued to crash against his defenses.

          'This is the only way,' Aeneas thought. 'I'm sorry.'

          Taking in a calming breath, he announced, "It is time. Send a Killing Curse at each of their six peripheral heads. We must not fail."

          "Yes, brother," Odysseus grunted out firmly as another pang of guilt rocked Aeneas to his core. 

          Aeneas quickly shook the feeling away. He must concentrate on his task, or else, all their efforts and sacrifice would be for naught.

          Readying his wand in his right hand and Pirithous's wand in his left, Aeneas shouted the Curse and heard his brothers' voices echoing alongside his.

          Six magnificent jets of murderous green lights erupted from their wand tips that streaked towards their targets. Before the tired monster could react, the light struck each head as they fell limp amidst the brilliant flashes of neon green.

          Six heads crashed onto the grounds loudly, sending plumbs of dirt and rubble into the air. The seventh and final head whipped around in a crazed, frantic motion as it observed its dead companions. However, it knew that they would arise once more before long. In fact, the charred scales upon which the Killing Curse had impacted was already being to heal.

          As it let out a spine-shivering scream of anger, Aeneas shouted at his brothers without meeting their gazes, "Keep it occupied, but do not kill it!"

          Once again, Aeneas anticipated them to question his order. But no challenges came as his brother merely darted past him to engage with the enraged Hydra.

          Aeneas immediately knelt down on the spot and carved ancient, complex runes onto the rock that he stood upon. Meanwhile, his brothers distracted the Hydra as they dodged and ducked while the serpent continued to spray its bone-melting venom over them.

          Upon the final stroke of his wand downwards, he completed the symbol as it started to glow in a brilliant indigo colour beneath him. Then, he looked afar and saw a glimmer of purple in the distance to his right as a runic symbol lit up in the air. Then, a second symbol shone brightly behind the furiously swinging neck of the Hydra. There was a third one far away in his left. Finally, Aeneas confirmed that there were seven runic symbols that encircled the monster and the destroyed battlefield.

          Before Aeneas started the abominable ritual that violated the sanctity of life itself, he took a final moment to take in the cloudless skies, the harsh sun, the sand-choked air, the rough calloused skin of his palm, the smooth polished surface of Pirithous's wand, and the sight of his two valiant brothers that he loved more than anything in this world…

          Aeneas allowed himself to close his eyes as he started to recite the ancient, foreign language that he had memorized before the beginning of this treacherous journey.

          As the words rolled off his tongue, memories started to course through his mind as if he was forced to relive his entire life in an instant. Flashes of images from his childhood, his brothers, his time in Hogwarts, and his first love darted across his eyes. Then, it suddenly paused on the scene when he was reading the forbidden texts inside a grimoire that he pried from the hands of an unwilling necromancer.

          "It will take three days and three nights to prepare the ritual?" Aeneas asked as he snapped the grimoire shut.

          "Yes, but you will not succeed in your task!" The necromancer snarled before coughing out a burst of dark, crimson blood under Aeneas's watchful gaze.

          "Armed with the knowledge in this book, I will," Aeneas said with a deadly coolness in his voice.

          The necromancer chuckled dismissively at Aeneas and said, "Yes… you have discovered that all seven heads of the Hydra, not six, can regenerate. So you sought out this ritual to strip it of its regenerative powers…." The old man shook his head and sneered, "But to rob something of such enormous Healing power is an offense to life and magic itself, even if the target is the monstrous Hydra! You must power it with something even stronger than its regenerative powers! Something you will never be able to provide!"

           Aeneas looked down at the necromancer impassively as the other man finished his speech. Then, with a soft voice, he said, "You're wrong."

           He watched as the other man's face slowly turned into confusion.

           "I understand the fundamental laws of magic as well as you do. Do ut des... I give, so that you may give..." Aeneas breathed out as he glanced at the fading letters on the cover of the hefty tome. "In order to surrender Hydra's power, I must also give up something of greater value... something that Hydra's power cannot reverse..."

           Aeneas met the necromancer's widening gaze as the other man asked in bewilderment, "But… but why?! You are setting off to rid the world of the deadly Hydra and gain all the riches and glory the world can bestow onto you. Why are you laying down your life -"

           "It is not glory or gold that I seek. It is simply the right thing to do," Aeneas said before he left.

           As the memory ended, so did his recitation of the ritual incantation. Opening his eyes, he could see that each runic symbol was now a wall of purple light encased the entire battlefield and the Hydra within it.

           There was a firm tug in Aeneas's chest as he let out an involuntary gasp. He felt an abnormal sense of icy hollowness permeating from within him as he watched a luminous, translucent fluid seemingly pour out of an invisible opening over his heart and onto the flickering symbol he knelt on. Simultaneously, the Hydra weakened as its giant pieces of scales slowly disintegrated into flakes of blackened ashes that dissipated into the air.

           Aeneas started to feel a numbing cold travel from the tips of his fingers and toes and spread throughout his body as the strong urge to sleep overwhelmed him. His eyelids slipped shut as he vaguely heard Odysseus and Theseus shouting out in relief and jubilation.

           The two brothers watched as the Hydra withered before their eyes, but they did not notice that their brother was fading from the world as well.

           The last thing Aeneas ever heard was the desperate and overwhelming sadness in his brothers' wails.

 

***

 

          Hazily, Turais registered Alex's hands on his shoulders as he shook them.

          "- Turais, are you alright? Turais!"

          "I... I'm fine," Turais said as he pushed himself onto his feet. Shakily, he gulped and said, "I... I don't know what overcame me. I'm sorry for the fright."

          "Are you sure?" Alex asked worriedly. "You were muttering about it not being the whole story... that there were was something else..." 

          "Ignore me, please, Alex. And I am sure I am perfectly fine..." Turais said as he nodded distractedly. The story of Aeneas continued to swirl in his mind, but he quickly banished it to the back of his mind. "Please do not tell my family. I don't want them to worry unnecessarily."

          "I... I don't know about this -"

          Turais gripped Alex's hand and held it tightly. Looking into his eyes, he pleaded, "Promise me."

          Alex's eyes quivered, but he ultimately gave a curt nod.

          Turais let out a breath of relief.

          "Thank you. Thank you..."

 

***

 

 

 


CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

AN UNLIKELY ENCOUNTER


 

          Regulus Black made certain that he would not cross paths with Turais after their explosive row in the changing room. He also knew that his stupid, excessively sentimental brother would be waiting for him the next morning to resolve this situation. However, Regulus was not ready to apologize yet, nor was he ready to deal with Turais's heartbroken, wretched expression when Regulus inevitably pushed him away. Therefore, he crept out of the common room in the middle of the night and wandered the castle to find a place where he could keep to himself and stew in silence.

          One place that he always frequented immediately came to his mind.

          He descended the long flights over stairs, pausing only when he heard the loud howl of a lone wolf, and reached the tall exterior glass boathouse that glistened under the silvery glow of the full moon. Its wall consisted of an intricate glazed glass with ornate steel ridges and a Caen stone bottom, and its roof was a steeply-pitched triangular glass high roof. Regulus approached the door and noticed a large padlock on the door handle, which denied him access. 

          Pulling his wand out, Regulus tapped the lock and muttered the all-too-familiar spell, "Alohamora."

          The lock shuddered, but then it fell silent and remained firmly in place.

          "Alohamora!" Regulus whispered more forcefully. The lock rattled louder as it rammed against its constraints, but it ultimately settled down without any changes.

          Regulus kicked the door in frustration, which immediately sent a dull throb through his stubbed toe. Hissing painfully, Regulus tried to clutch his foot, but he lost his balance and tumbled onto the dirt ground.

          "Stupid Turais," Regulus grumbled. He seized a handful of grass and ripped it from the ground before throwing it. However, a gust of wind sent the sprinkles of soil and blades of grass back into his face. Regulus wiped his face and muttered, "Stupid Regulus."

          It was then that Regulus caught sight of a slight glimmer on the side of the structure. Above a tilting pile of wooden crate boxes was a small window that was slightly ajar. He stood up, brushed the dirt off his robes, and climbed the crates carefully. With a heavy grunt, he managed to creak the window open just wide enough to let his slim body slip past. Once inside, he observed two rows of clustered columns that ran parallel. In between the columns was a pier with a gentle slope that met the shimmering inky waters of the Black Lake. Through the wide dock opening, Regulus observed the tiny rolls on the lake's surface and the distant shoreline beyond.

          Quietly, he walked to the edge of the pier and sat down at his usual spot with his legs hanging loosely over the water. Under the bright moon, he could make out the faint contour of his body in the rippling reflection. He closed his eyes and found solace in the calming environment around him. As he listened to the sound of water gently lapping against harbour, tasted the mild scent of algae and pine that permeated his nostril, and attended to the distant whistling of the autumn breeze, he slowly drifted into a dreamless slumber...

 

***

 

          Regulus jerked awake to the sound of a creaking door. As he clambered onto his feet, the door swung open to reveal the golden rays of the morning sun and a head of messy hair. After putting his wand away, the intruder looked up at Regulus, and his dark scowl quickly morphed into a shocked expression.

          Regulus's eyes narrowed as he recognized the other person.

          "Where are your shadows?" Regulus leered.

          "Who are you referring to?" Potter's gaping mouth turned into an easy grin as he stepped through the threshold and allowed the door to close behind him. "I am a popular boy, you know."

          "Namely, the shy one, the disgusting one, and the dumb one."

          Potter's grin faltered as he said, "Well... they... they are busy..."

          "And you aren't," Regulus sniped. "How peculiar."

          "See who's talking," Potter returned hotly as his cheeks flushed.

          Regulus glared before hissing, "I chose to be alone."

          "Well, me too," Potter replied immediately. Turning his nose up, he sniffed, "So... why are you here, Reggie -"

          "I never gave you permission to call me Reggie," snapped Regulus.

          Potter clicked his tongue and said blithely, "Touchy. So... why are you here -"

          "I fail to see why this is any of your business?"

          "This is called making conversation."

          "Well, I don't make conversation. Not with you."

          "You're not doing too bad," Potter smirked. "Considering your words."

          Regulus glared at Potter before making a point of turning his body away wordlessly.

          After a few long moments of silence, Potter's voice rung out around the structure.

          "Are we just going to stand here all day?"

          Regulus left the question hanging in the air. Then, he sensed Potter approached him. Just as he was about to whip out his wand and hex Potter if he dared to touch him, the Gryffindor let out a sigh as he settled at the spot where Regulus spent the past several hours. Regulus whipped around and glared at the oblivious boy.

          "Leave," Regulus gritted out curtly.

          Potter looked up lazily as he swung his legs. He batted his eyes in a taunting manner and asked, "Why should I?"

          Regulus clenched his hands into two tight fists as he hissed, "This is my spot."

          Potter made a show to look around the floor before returning a smirk, "I don't see anything that says so."

          "Leave."

          "I don't want to."

          "I was here first!"

          "So?"

          "Leave!"

          "Well," Potter sighed as he stood and stretched his legs. Turning to face Regulus fully, he leaned forward and simpered smugly. He cooed, "If you feel so strongly about it. Then make me."

          Regulus mustered the most loathing glare he could make, but the other boy seemed impervious to his silent fury. Resigned, Regulus walked to the far edge of the pier and sat down in a huff, trying to ignore the other boy's presence. They remained in such a stilted silence for a few long moments, during which Regulus sensed the other boy's fidgeting slowly turned to a gentle tapping of his fingers against the ground and finally an incessant hum of a song.

          "Can you stop that?" Regulus snapped. Potter blinked at Regulus and asked, "What?"

          "Your tapping! Your humming! It's annoying!"

          Potter's grin widened. "Well, you can always leave..."

          Then, he started to belt out Celestina Warbeck's song loudly and in a tone-deaf voice.

          Regulus stood up abruptly as he hissed, "Fine, I will leave then."

          With that, Regulus stomped towards the door and pushed... only to find that it was locked.

          "You need to unlock it, silly," Potter called out cheerily behind him as Regulus continued to jerk the handle to no avail. Puffing out a breath in annoyance, Regulus was about to reach for his wand before he cast a glance at the peeking Potter.

          He was not about to embarrass himself in front of Potter of all people with a failed attempt at the Unlocking Charm.

          Regulus turned around and walked over to below the half-opened window and climbed.

          "Why aren't you going that way?" Potter asked before the answer occurred to him. "Oh, so you don't know how to cast the Unlocking Charm?"

          "I know how to!" Regulus snapped hotly as he reached his arm over the window frame. "I'm not a bumbling buffoon such as yourself. I just chose not to."

          "Sure..." Potter sniggered.

          "No wonder you are all alone," Regulus muttered as he climbed over the window and stepped out onto the crates.

 

***

 

          "Wingardium Leviosa!" Regulus jabbed his wand angrily at the inert feather in his final class of the day. "I said, Wingardium Leviosa."

          "It's a swish and flick," his Ravenclaw classmate, Emmeline Vance, said. "I've seen you perform this charm on your second try."

          To Regulus's ears, her words sounded rather condescending and utterly unhelpful.

          "Wingardium Leviosa!

          After that attempt, Vance shot her hand out and stilled Regulus's whipping arm. 

          "Why don't we give this charm a rest?" she suggested and gingerly removed the feather from in front of him. "Let's practice something else, shall we?"

          "Fine!" Regulus hissed angrily as he slammed the spellbook down in front of him. Thrusting his finger at the page, he said, "The Severing Charm then. I feel like severing something."

          Vance gave a worried glance at Regulus's dark expression and said hastily, "Let's do that one last. How about this... definitely not Incendio... maybe the Unlocking Charm -"

          Regulus stood up abruptly at the mention of the damned spell.

          "I think I have enough practice for today," Regulus grunted out as he stuffed his bag and walked out of the classroom. He quickly made his way to the boathouse. The door was locked, but fortunately, the window was left open. Regulus climbed halfway through it until he noticed an audible sniff reverberating around the glass structure. Looking down, he could see Potter huddled by himself in the corner with his head hidden in his knees.

          Just as Regulus wanted to retreat, he discovered that his book bag was caught around the corner of the window. As he tried to tug the fabric free, he lost balance and fell forward. 

          "Ahh!" Regulus screamed as he landed painfully on the cement floor in front of Potter. Then, the Charms book slipped out of the book bag that was still dangling on the window above and struck him on his bottom. "Ouch!"

          There was a wet snort from Potter's direction as Regulus looked up repulsively. However, the anger in his eyes tapered off as he took in the red-rimmed puffy eyes and blotchy, tear-stained cheeks.

          "You saw nothing," Regulus grunted as he patted his robes free of dust.

          Surprisingly, Potter did not say anything in return. Feeling slightly off-kilter, Regulus picked up his fallen items and said, "Well, good day to you -"

          "Reggi - I mean, Regulus," Potter gasped silently. Regulus paused as he turned to face the other boy inquiringly. However, the boy looked completely sincere for once. Perhaps, even a bit desperate. "Can you stay for a while?"

          "I don't particularly want to -"

          "Please?"

          Regulus pressed his lips into a thin line as he considered his options. After a final glance at the boy's pathetic appearance, Regulus closed his eyes and took in a calming breath before he sat down on the spot and crossed his legs.

          "Why are you sitting so far away?" Potter asked wetly as he rubbed his eyes.

          "Do you really have to ask why?"

          Potter looked down at his palms as he asked softly, "Am I really that dislikeable?"

          "Yes," Regulus said bluntly before he realized belatedly that he should have been more tactful, considering the other boy's clear sign of distress. However, Potter didn't seem to take too much offense to his words.

          "Do you think this is why they don't want to talk to me anymore?" Potter asked dejectedly. Regulus remained silent, wondering if he should respond to that. However, Potter continued, "I just wanted to make friends and have fun. Is that wrong?"

          "You are doing a terrible job of that, from what I can see."

          "What do you mean?" Potter asked.

          "Well, you seem like you want to be the centre of attention rather than make friends."

          "I... I don't!" Potter argued. "People just look at me wherever I go!"

          "That is because you are always doing the most outrageous thing possible!"

          "And what's wrong with that?!"

          Regulus gaped at the other boy incredulously. Then, he shook his head and stood up.

          "You're beyond saving," Regulus muttered as he climbed back up to the window.

          "Wait... where are you going?"

          "Anywhere that you aren't," Regulus said simply as he tugged his bag free and hopped onto the ground.

 

***

 

          For the next three days, Regulus continued to have trouble casting any spell, even those he could cast perfectly before. However, he did not return to the boathouse as he tried not to run into Potter.

          Regulus guessed that Potter would finally give up and leave Regulus in peace on the fourth day. Therefore, he made his way to the boathouse after grabbing a few sandwiches and avoiding Turais at all cost. However, he realized he had reached for the corned beef sandwich that he detested in his haste. Regulus was already in a bad mood at the prospect of his unappetizing dinner, but when he reached the final set of stairs and found the door to the boathouse was slightly ajar, his mood took a turn for the worse.

          And then, he was greeted with Potter's obnoxious voice.

          "Where were you?" Potter asked in an accusing tone as he stepped out of the shadow.

          "As I said last time, wherever you aren't," Regulus replied bitingly before he turned around to head back up the stairs.

          "Wait!" Potter called out. However, Regulus continued to walk without paying him any attention. Then, Potter caught up to him as he gasped, "Wait! Where are you going?"

          "Were you not listening? I said, 'Anywhere that you aren't,'" Regulus snapped.

          "Oh..." Potter mumbled as his grip slacked.

          With a hard swing of his body, Potter's hand slipped from Regulus's arm. Regulus took a brief glance behind him and saw Potter’s dejected expression. There was a pang of remorse in Regulus's heart as he hesitated. With a determined swivel, Regulus turned around and descended the stairs. As he passed the Gryffindor, he hissed, "Not a single word from you."

          Potter nodded energetically as he opened his mouth. 

          "I said: 'Not a word,'" Regulus warned.

          "But I brought us food from the kitchen!" Potter gushed out quickly before he snapped his jaw shut.

          Regulus glared at Potter and then at his sandwich before asking, "What did you bring?"

          "Oh! Basically everything for dinner tonight!"

          Potter guided Regulus into the boathouse as the Slytherin was greeted to a full spread of dishes laid on a tablecloth like a lavish picnic spread.

          "How did you manage to bring all of this down here?" Regulus couldn't help but ask.

          "Oh... I have my ways," Potter said mysteriously.

          As they dug into their food, Potter asked, "Why do you like to come here?"

          "I am not here for the thought-provoking conversation -"

          "I know," Potter said as he chewed on a drumstick. "You don't make conversation with someone like me." Regulus placed the spoonful of risotto back onto his plate and moved to stand as Potter hastily said, "Alright, alright. Gee..."

          The rest of the meal went by in an almost companionable silence. After Regulus had enough to eat, he started to move the vegetables on his plate aimlessly while Potter continued to munch on his plate of food.

          "The water," Regulus whispered as Potter looked up in surprise. "The ripples... The impenetrable depths... It calms me."

          Potter scrunched his nose in disgust and said, "Really? It's cold and wet and miserable. A fireplace is much more enjoyable. It's warm, cozy, and makes me feel all fuzzy inside."

          "This is what preferences mean," Regulus snapped. "You asked for my preference, and I answered. I never asked for yours, and you don't need to disparage mine."

          "I... I..." Potter gasped as though he had difficulty talking. "I... I am sorry."

          Potter's shoulders sagged as Regulus grunted in acceptance.

          "And I... I am also sorry about what I said before the match..." Potter muttered. "About... your mother... That was unkind of me. And also for making a big deal out of you becoming Seeker -"

          Regulus winced as the mention of Seeker brought his thoughts back to his clash with Turais.

          " - But I suppose you really should thank me -"

          "What?!" Regulus gasped as he returned his full attention to Potter.

          "Well… well, you... you wouldn't have become Seeker if... if it weren't for... for me," Potter stammered slightly before regaining his bravado. "You would've never become Seeker in a million years -"

          Upon hearing the damming words, a fit of rage overwhelmed Regulus as he pulled out his wand and thrust it towards Potter's face.

          "Entomorphis!" He roared.

          Potter cowered, but nothing happened. Regulus glared at his wand hatefully before stuffing it away. Then, he punched Potter squarely on the nose.

          "I never wanted to be Seeker!" Regulus screamed as Potter covered his nose as drops of blood started to splatter down onto the ground. "I didn't even plan on trying out for the team! It is all because of you, Potter! You caused Sirius to be disqualified from the try-out. You caused Turais to be banned from Quidditch. This is all your fault!"

          Potter's eyes flashed with fury.

          "Yes! Blame everything on me, wouldn't you?! Everything is my fault!" Potter screamed nasally. "Here, I said it. It’s all my fault, and I’m sorry! I brought Sirius to the library. That's why your brothers missed your Sorting. I did not admit to stealing the book. That's why Turais is banned from Quidditch! I tripped Sirius at the try-outs. That's why Sirius didn't become Chaser!" Potter's eyes were filled with frustrated tears as he continued, "I didn't plan any of this to happen! I didn't mean for them to happen! I didn't… I didn't want anyone to get in trouble because of me… I… I feel awful… and… I’m sorry…."

          Regulus stood silently as he watched the pathetic boy cry.

          "Everything happened because of you," Regulus hissed callously. "Cry all you want, Potter, but no one will feel sorry for you. I’m also not the one you should apologize to for everything else that you’ve done. And finally, the next time I come down here, I hope I don't lay my eyes on you."

          With that, Regulus turned on his heels and left. As he climbed the stairs, a particular phrase kept ringing in his mind.

          "You would've never become Seeker if Turais was not banned."

          Regulus wanted to refute the claim, but he couldn't because it was true. Turais was better than him in every possible way. Sure, he was the youngest Seeker in a century - a title that Turais could not lay claim to - but only because Turais was banned did Regulus get the chance to even be in contention for the position.

          So, Regulus tried his best to prove his worth and to show that he belonged on the team. He trained every day and night because he knew he had to catch the Snitch and catch it quick, or else he would forever be known as "that other less-talented brother." And in the end, he still did not manage to beat Turais's record. 

          Turais felt like someone he aspired to be but could never become, and Regulus hated all the confusing and disgusting emotions inside of him that he could not decipher or express.

          But ultimately, none of this was Turais's fault. On the contrary, his brother was the most supportive and gracious person in the world. Turais encouraged him to try out for Seeker and even lent him his broom. Turais was, without a doubt, the best older brother Regulus could wish for. That was also why Regulus hated himself for harbouring all those shameful feelings against Turais and for making Turais feel miserable.

          Deep inside, Regulus knew he needed to apologize to his brother, but he did not know how to… or where to even begin…

          Lost in his thoughts, Regulus walked into a wall of fabric.

          "Sorry..." Regulus muttered as he peered up to see Alex's face. Then, his eyes widened at the person beside him.

          "Reggie?" breathed Turais.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed! I love reading all of them even if I do not have time to respond!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-02-13

Chapter 64: Lost and Found

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

- ravenclawblues 2022-03-12

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A shout out to Vladimir_Mithrander and wander_lost for pointing out inconsistencies and typos.

 

Also, I am glad to announce that I have recruited Aeroway as my beta reader! Please join me in giving them a warm welcome.

 

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway.

 

***

 


CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

LOST AND FOUND


 

December 9, 1972 (Saturday)

 

MAGICAL FOUL PLAY DETECTED IN FATAL DEVON BRIDGE FAILURE 

by Andy Smudgley

 

The bridge failure that caused four Muggle deaths in Exeter, Devon, in October has been officially linked to Dark Wizarding activities, according to the Auror Office. 

"Current evidence suggests that the bridge was sabotaged by the use of malicious magic moments before a passenger train was due to pass through," Deputy Head Auror Charlus Potter said during the press briefing. "We are continuing efforts to trace the magical signatures left on the scene to potential suspects."

When asked whether this attack was linked to the village factory explosion in Cheshire last month, the Auror made clear they were "not ruling out" potential links between the two cases... 

 

***

 

          "Where are we going?" Alex asked as Turais led the both of them down into the Hufflepuff basement.

          "To grab a bite," replied Turais.

          Due to the proximity of the Black Lake to the Slytherin dungeons, the hallways were constantly cold and damp despite the powerful Warming and Drying enchantments. However, the air in the Hufflepuff basement was warm and dry due to the furnace in the kitchens nearby. The hallways also seemed more brightly lit and cheery, with lively portraits depicting various celebrations and festivities.

          Soon, they arrived in a hallway lined with food-themed paintings, and Turais stopped in front of the painting of a fruit bowl. Turais reached for the pear in the fruit bowl and tickled it as Alex wondered what his friend was doing. Suddenly, the pear giggled, and Alex jumped back in alarm. Turais grabbed the large, green door handle that appeared in place of the pear and turned it.

          He heard Alex gasp as they walked into an enormous, high-ceiling chamber that looked like a replica of the Great Hall above it. Some house-elves were walking around carrying cleaned cookware to one end of the hall while others cut ingredients to prepare for dessert that was about to be served in a few minutes. A house-elf noticed Turais and walked towards them.

          "I is Quincy. How may I help sirs?" he said in a squeaky voice.

          Turais crouched down and looked at Quincy, whose large black orbs widened even more at his action. "Hi Quincy, I am Turais, and this is my friend, Alex. I was wondering if you could prepare some food for us to eat here?"

          Quincy nodded quickly, his pointy ears straightening in excitement. "Yes, mister Turais. You is very kind. Quincy is honoured to serve kind mister Turais and his friend. Please follow me."

          Quincy walked them to a nearby table, and many different house-elves swarmed around them, delivering plates and goblets with portions of the dinner currently being served in the Great Hall above them. Meanwhile, Turais noticed a similar lavish spread prepared on the table next to them. However, one of the house-elves snapped her fingers, and everything popped out of existence.

          Turning back to their table and Alex's awed expression, he remarked, "This is the perfect place to have dinner, chat, and avoid eavesdroppers while staying warm and toasty."

          "Thank you, Turais," Alex muttered as he watched the stream of food being placed on their table.

          "Let's dig in then, shall we?" Turais said with a smile. They ate in companionable silence as the house-elves milled around carrying towers of dirty dishes and pots. When they started on desserts, Turais asked, "The news... everyone will know by tomorrow. What are we going to do?"

          Alex stopped scooping his gelato and said, "What can we do?"

          "Not much," Turais admitted. "But I'm worried about you -"

          "Turais," Alex interrupted as he placed down his spoon on the table. Looking up and meeting Turais's gaze, he continued, "I know you mean well, but you are dealing with too much already. I cannot let you add this to your list of worries."

          "But -"

          "And there is nothing you can do, Turais. The Aurors are trying to locate him, and I doubt you can do a better job than them on this matter," Alex muttered. Turais slumped in his seat, feeling dejected and useless, when Alex reached out to grip Turais's forearm. Turais looked up to see Alex give him a grateful smile. "You bringing me here is already enough."

          Turais bit down on his lower lip and nodded with a tight expression. "Well, I... suppose we can have all our meals here starting tomorrow if you want to."

          "I wouldn't mind that," Alex said as they shared a small grin.

          With fuller stomachs and lighter hearts, Turais and Alex were on their way back to the Slytherin common room when a boy suddenly darted out of seemingly nowhere and rammed into Alex.

          "Sorry," the boy mumbled as he scratched his head awkwardly. 

          Turais immediately stared at the boy upon hearing the familiar voice. With a tone of trepidation and relief, he breathed out, "Reggie..."

          Regulus's eyes darted from Alex to Turais and widened in shock. After a long moment, he overcame his hesitation and ran towards Turais while burrowing his face into the older boy's robes wordlessly.

          Bewildered, Turais placed his arms around the boy and patted him consolingly. Alex tipped his head towards the direction of the common room and started to back away as Turais nodded gratefully. Once Alex's footsteps disappeared, Turais braved the silence and asked gently, "Hey Reggie, how have you been?"

          There was a long pause before Turais heard Regulus whisper, "Horrible."

          "I hate that we are fighting, Reggie," Turais said sincerely. "I was too harsh with my words before, and I would like to apologize for that."

          "I should not have avoided you, Turais. You were only trying to help," Regulus admitted. Then, he quickly added, "I'm sorry too."

          "It's alright," Turais said as he felt a relieved smile creeping back onto his face.

          "And I..." Regulus said before he paused to consider his words. "I... shouldn't be Seeker anymore. I... don't deserve to be Seeker."

          "Why do you say that, Reggie?"

          "Wilkins is right. I don't know my limits - No, I know them, but I ignored them because I wanted to catch the Snitch so badly," Regulus mumbled. "I didn't want anyone to think that I am any less of a Seeker than you are -"

          "You were brilliant in the match, Reggie!" Turais gasped urgently as he felt a painful squeeze in his heart. "Yes. We need to make sure you play safely and within the limits of your abilities, but this does not mean you weren't any good. You were amazing! Everyone I came across praised you for your performance! You are a great Seeker!"

          Regulus looked as if he wanted to say something else, but his shoulders sagged as he nodded in resignation. Hesitantly, he said, "I... I suppose..."

          Turais recalled Pierricoeur's words as he said gently, "Reggie, as I have told you before, you don't have to emulate me or live up to others' expectations."

          "I'm not," Regulus muttered as he looked away.

          "What are you worried about then?"

          "I… I… Nothing..."

          Turais knew there was something else Regulus had on his mind, but he would settle with this resolution for now. Trying for a lighter topic of conversation, he asked, "So, where have you been hiding these past few days? I couldn't seem to find you despite my best efforts."

          Regulus wrinkled his nose in disgust as if he recalled something unpleasant.

          "I would rather not talk about it," he muttered. Then, he looked up at Turais in alarm and said, "It's not about you, I promise."

          Turais looked at his brother in confusion, but he nodded and did not press further.

          "Well, let's find Wilkins together and explain everything, shall we?"

          Regulus bit down on his lips hesitantly before giving a slight nod.

          After locating the Slytherin captain, they brought him to a nearby empty classroom as Regulus launched into an explanation for his actions.

          "... and, I'm sorry..." Regulus concluded as he hung his head in shame next to a grim Turais. "I'll never endanger myself like that again."

          Michael considered the two brothers for a long moment before he roared, "You two are such a pain in the arse!" The two boys flinched at the tone. Then, Michael pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a sigh. "I would not put up with this kind of rubbish if the two of you weren't my bloody best Seekers, and I desperately want to win back the Cup!"

          Michael pointed his finger at Regulus and waved it warningly, "Be on your best behaviour, young man. If I see a single misstep, I will throw you out of the team without hesitation, Black or not! Do you accept these terms?"

          Regulus gulped as he trained his eyes at Michael's antagonizing finger. Then, he gave a shaky nod.

          Michael snapped his attention towards Turais and jabbed his finger at his chest. "And you... Make sure you keep an eye on your behaviour and your brother's. You've already landed yourself with a ban on Quidditch! If you somehow manage to land your brother in trouble -" Michael's voice shook with energy. "- I swear on my magic that I will... I will... I will do something unimaginable!"

          "Of course," Turais agreed quickly. "Thank you for the opportunity for Regulus to redeem himself."

          Turais swung an arm around Regulus's shoulder and pressed his brother into a slight bow. Regulus gasped and choked out a raspy, "Thank you very much."

          Michael glared at the two brothers severely. Then, he heaved another long, suffering sigh before walking away while shaking his head.

 

***

 

          For the next two weeks, Turais and Alex became regular fixtures in the Hogwarts kitchen for all their meals.

          However, they were unable to avoid the pitying glances that their well-meaning peers cast on Alex. Whenever someone mentioned something family-related, they all froze and glanced at him uneasily. To Alex's merit, he merely accepted them all with a perfunctory smile and seemed unbothered by it all.

           However, Turais knew deep down that it was all an act because he, too, was familiar with that feeling. Therefore, he treated Alex as he usually would and chatted about any topics without reservation. When Alex cycled through his melancholic state, Turais did his best to be present for his friend and offer his silent support.

          Turais did not know if he was doing enough for Alex, but all he knew was that this was what he had wanted and had not received in his past life after Cedric and Sirius's deaths.

          Soon, it was the last day of school, and Turais was in the courtyard chatting with his friends as they waited for the Thestral carriages that would transport them across the frozen Black Lake to Hogsmeade.

          "Alex," Turais said to his companion, who was standing behind him rigidly. "Alex?"

          Alex suddenly jerked in alarm as he looked at Turais, "I... what did you say?"

          "Nothing," Turais frowned. "Are you alright? You seem a bit distracted today."

          Alex rubbed his arms with his mitten-covered hands and nodded, "I... I'm fine -"

          "Turais!" Sirius shouted as Turais watched him dart across the snowy courtyard towards them. Searching around, he asked, "Where's Reggie?"

          "Hey Sirius, I haven't seen him yet," Turais replied when he noticed Regulus emerge from around the corner of the Entrance Hall. "Wait, there he is."

          Regulus stopped and gesticulated angrily at something behind him that was out of view. Then, he turned around and started to walk through the doors. However, a pair of hands shot out to seize Regulus's robe and drag him backwards.

          "What is happening?" Sirius frowned as they watched Regulus desperately try to get away.

          "Well, let's find out," Turais muttered as he walked towards the commotion with Sirius following close behind. Just as they reached their embattled brother, he was suddenly released as they heard a faint series of footsteps running away. Turais peeked around the corner and saw several Hufflepuffs descending the Grand Staircase, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

          "Who was it?" Sirius asked Regulus, who rearranged his robes with a dark scowl on his face. "What did they do to you?"

          "It's nothing. I can take care of my own business," Regulus gritted out as he pushed away Sirius's hand and marched out into the open space.

          Sirius turned to Turais, seemingly at a loss.

          "Give him some space, Sirius," Turais said as he watched Regulus walk up next to Alex. "You know how Reggie is. The more you force him to speak, the more he withdraws."

          "I know..." Sirius muttered quietly. Turais patted his brother on the shoulder consolingly, but he also watched Regulus with a concerned frown on his face.

 

***

 

          Turais caught an odd bird-like whistle behind them as they waited for the scarlet train at Hogsmeade station. Turning around, Turais glimpsed a figure disappearing behind the wall of frost-covered bricks of the stationmaster's house. However, the back of the head of messy hair was unmistakable. Just then, the toot of the train whistle brought Turais's attention back to the Hogwarts Express.

          The platform was awash with plumes of warm, white smoke as the locomotive crawled to a complete halt in front of the Black brothers.

          "Come on!" Sirius laughed as he pulled Alex up the steps leading to the carriage. At the same time, Turais heard a second, loud whistle as Regulus noticeably tensed beside him.

          "What is it, Reggie?" Turais asked.

          Regulus's eyes glanced towards where James was hiding before he gave Turais a tight grin. "Turais, I forgot that I needed to find my classmate. She wants to hand me something. I'll find you in a few moments!"

          Regulus darted away before Turais could even shout a warning. Shaking his head and wondering what on Earth happened between his youngest brother and James, Turais entered the compartment only to find Sirius with his face pressed up against the window looking at something.

          "Where is Reggie headed?" Sirius asked with a muffled voice as a circular patch of fog formed on the glass near his lips.

          "Beats me," Turais responded and sat down next to Alex. However, he suddenly noticed that his friend's eyes were drooping, and he seemed to be shivering slightly. "Are you alright?"

          The grey-haired boy looked up and shook his head slowly, "I... I just feel a bit tired... and chilly..."

          Another tremble passed through Alex's body as he let out a tiny cough. Turais unravelled the Slytherin-coloured scarf around his neck and wrapped it around Alex. Then, he pulled out his wand and muttered, "Ferven Ventus," as a large rush of warm, dry air circulated the compartment.

          Alex grimaced as he directed Turais's wand away from his face.

          "The air from your wand is sweltering, Turais," Alex muttered weakly. "It's as though I'm sitting next to a giant bonfire."

          "Sorry," Turais flushed as he immediately constricted the flow of magic through his arm. "Better?"

          "Better. Thank you," Alex mumbled. He tugged on his robes tighter and closed his eyes with a quiet groan. "Can you wake me up when we arrive in London?"

          "Of course," Turais agreed readily.

          A few minutes later, Regulus walked into the compartment with a tight expression on his face.

          "Well, someone's a sourpuss today," Sirius remarked as Regulus sat down in a huff.

          "All thanks to you," Regulus snapped as Sirius blinked in shock. Then, Regulus noticed Alex's slumbering figure and quickly turned to ask Turais, "Is Alex alright?"

          "I reckon he's a bit under the weather," Turais said. "We can ask Kreacher to fetch him some Pepper-Up when we arrive home."

          "I suppose so..."

          After a quiet train ride, the Hogwarts Express arrived at King's Cross, and Turais shook Alex awake.

          "Have we arrived?" Alex asked groggily as he rubbed his eyes.

          "How are you feeling?" Turais asked.

          "Much better," Alex replied as he stood up with a wince. 

          "Listen, I can ask Father to send for our private Healer -"

          "No!" Alex said immediately. Flushing, he continued with a calmer tone, "I... I don't want to be an inconvenience."

          "This is not called 'being an inconvenience,' Alex."

          "I am fine, Turais," Alex protested. "Look, if I feel worse, I will let you know, and you can send for the Healer then. Deal?"

          Turais examined Alex, and the boy seemed to look slightly better than before. Reluctantly, he gave a terse nod.

          Alex breathed out a soft "Thank you."

          Orion was already on the platform as they alighted the train. Sirius immediately ran up to him and shouted, "Father!"

          "Sirius," Orion grinned as he ruffled his son's hair. Then, he eyed his more reserved child and greeted, "Regulus."

          "Father," Regulus said softly. 

          "My apologies for not being at your first Quidditch match. I heard from your brothers that you were brilliant," Orion commented. "A Snitch catch in six minutes! How great is that! We now have not one but two superb Seekers in the family."

          Regulus scratched the nape of his hair and muttered shyly, "I suppose..."

          "Well, you must tell me all about the match," Orion said as Regulus nodded. Then, Orion caught sight of Turais descending the train steps.

          "Father," Turais greeted happily as he gave Orion a warm hug.

          "Turais, it's good to see you," his father said. Then, Turais noticed that Orion tensed up unnaturally as he focused on something behind him. Turais turned around and only found Alex standing behind him innocently. Confused, Turais looked up and saw that Orion was, indeed, training his full attention on his friend.

          Alex shifted under Orion's persistent gaze as he let out an uncertain, "Hello, Mr Black."

          The words seemed to snap Orion out of his stupor as he released Turais and pressed his lips together into a tense smile.

          "Alex," Orion said as he gave the boy a tight hug as well.

          Alex's eyes widened at the sudden display of affection as he returned the gesture awkwardly. His sentiment was shared with the Black brothers, who watched on with quizzical expressions on their faces.

          For the rest of the day, Turais kept a close eye on Alex's condition. He seemed distracted and less engaged with the conversation around him, but all of it could pass for tiredness. However, due to his heightened sensitivity towards his friend, Turais noticed that Orion was particularly attentive towards Alex, which struck Turais as oddly uncharacteristic.

          Unlike his uninhibited love towards his sons, Orion had always exercised a great deal of restraint in expressing his caring attitude towards the boy. He was still affectionate, without a doubt, but it was always shown more courteously and reservedly. However, Turais could sense a radical change in Orion's treatment towards Alex today, leaving him to wonder whether it was a reaction to the disappearance of Howard Fawley.

          After dinner, they retired for the night, and the three brothers parted ways with Alex and Orion as they continued to climb the stairs to their rooms.

          Hearing the doors close below them, Regulus immediately waved his brothers to come close. Then, he whispered conspiratorially, "Does anyone think Father seemed different today?"

          "What do you mean?" Sirius asked in confusion as Turais nodded.

          "I sensed it as well," Turais hummed. "Father was more... accommodating."

          "Exactly," Regulus hissed while Sirius scrunched his nose as he tried to recall the day's events. "And did you notice what we had for dinner? Shepherd's pie, roasted beef... They are all his favourites. He even asked Kreacher to serve sticky toffee pudding! You know how much Father objects to serving us sweets."

          Turais did not pick up on that connection. He was surprised when Kreacher brought out that towering sponge cake dripping in thick toffee sauce and vanilla custard and topped with butterscotch chips and chopped dates. However, he concluded that it was Orion's way of welcoming them back for Christmas. Now armed with Regulus's assessment, Turais realized he was too naïve.

          "Father also instructed Kreacher to prepare black pudding and marmite for breakfast tomorrow," Regulus continued. "None of us are particularly keen on them..."

          "Except him," Turais finished the sentence. "But I reckon it is because of - you know - that. Father might've wanted to offer him a little pick-me-up."

          Regulus immediately nodded in agreement.

          "I can't believe I forgot about that," Regulus muttered apologetically. "He seems so... so composed all the time."

          Turais knew it was only a façade, but he kept that piece of information to himself.

          "Can someone explain to me what is happening?" Sirius asked as Turais was suddenly reminded of his presence. Regulus rolled his eyes before walking away. After watching the door close with a click, Sirius turned to his older brother inquiringly.

          However, Turais sighed exasperatedly as he patted Sirius on the shoulder.

          "Good night, Sirius," Turais said before he left Sirius standing in the hallway alone and looking utterly confused.

         The next morning, the Black family was gathered at the kitchen table. However, Alex was noticeably missing. As Sirius prodded his fork at the black pudding suspiciously, Turais asked Orion, "Where's Alex?"

         "He has not risen yet."

         Alex was known to be an early-riser. Something was wrong.

         "I'll check on him," Turais said as he climbed the stairs to Alex's room. Knocking on the door, Turais said, "Alex? Are you awake? Alex?"

         However, there was no response from the other side. Worry settled into Turais's mind as he knocked again. "Alex? I'm coming in."

         Met with silence, Turais twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Then, he laid eyes on the boy lying on his bed wrapped in a tight, constrictive cocoon of blankets. His eyes were closed, and his lips were moving with the sounds of inarticulate mumbling. Moving closer, Turais could see the drops of sweat collecting at the fringes of Alex's wet, matted hair. He placed a hand on Alex's forehead, and it felt hot and dry like a burning furnace.

         "Kreacher!" Turais shouted at once. A moment later, the house-elf popped into existence beside him. "Alex has a fever. Can you fetch some Pepper-Up Potion and Antidote for Common Poison?" Just as the house-elf was about to snap his fingers, Turais added quickly, "Also bring a basin with cold water and some towels. And a new set of pyjamas as well. Thank you, Kreacher."

         "Yes, Master Turais," Kreacher bowed and disappeared. 

         As Turais waited for the house-elf's return, he heard a set of frantic footsteps behind me. Then, Orion appeared through the doorway.

         "Kreacher notified me that Alex fell ill," Orion said, sounding slightly out-of-breath.

         "Yeah..." Turais said without looking away from Alex. His heart weighed heavily with guilt as he whispered, "He was already feeling a bit ill on the train ride back. I should not have let him convince me not to send for the Healers..."

         Orion pulled out his wand and waved it over Alex's shivering body.

         "It's a fever," Orion confirmed. Placing a comforting hand on Turais's slumped shoulder, he said, "Nothing a dose of Pepper-Up cannot fix. Don't worry."

         Turais looked up at his father and saw his eyes were trained solely on Alex. He also noticed the grim, worried expression on his face that contradicted his consoling words. However, Turais did not have a chance to consider the peculiarity as Kreacher returned with the requested items a moment later. They busied themselves as the thought quickly fled from Turais's mind.

         Hours later, Turais was reading a book by Alex's bedside when he noticed that his friend began to stir. Turais immediately set down the book and turned his full attention to the awakening patient.

         "Alex, are you feeling better?" Turais asked as Alex's eyes fluttered open.

         "I... I... think so..." Alex rasped out as Turais helped him sit upright. "Water, please?"

         "Here," Turais held a mug near the corner of his mouth with a towel below and helped him drink slowly.

         "Urgh... my head is pounding," Alex groaned. On the other side of the bed, Orion placed the back of his right hand against Alex's forehead.

         "Your fever hasn't broken completely yet," Orion said gently. "Does your throat still hurt?"

         "A bit..." Alex breathed weakly. "My entire body is aching as well."

         "Let's serve you the second round of Pepper-Up and AnCoP," Orion said as he reached for the Potion bottles and measured a ladle's worth of each. "If this persists, I'm calling the private Healers."

         "Thank you, Mr Black," Alex said as he drank both Potions. White steam immediately shot out of Alex's ears as the boy grimaced at the bitter taste. "Sorry for all the trouble."

         Orion sighed as he took the cup from Alex. "You ought to have told us that you felt unwell."

         "I... I didn't want to spoil the festivity for everyone," Alex protested weakly as he sunk back into the pillows. "And I... I didn't think it would be this bad."

         There was a wrinkling around Orion's eyes that emoted a sense of sadness and pain. However, the expression fled quickly as Orion pressed his lips into a tight smile and tucked Alex back into bed.

         "Are you warm enough?" Orion asked as he arranged the quilts and blankets over Alex's body.

         "Yes, Mr Black..." Alex slurred sleepily as his eyelids dropped. "Sorry..."

         Once he drifted back into a potion-induced sleep, Turais and Orion rose to their feet quietly and left the room. The moment Orion closed the door behind him, Turais could see the furrowed brows and sombre expression on his father's face once more.

         "What is it, Father?" Turais asked as they walked down the stairs to the kitchen. When there was no response, Turais placed a hand on his father's arm, who jolted strongly at the touch.

         Turais immediately retracted his hand as Orion breathed out, "Sorry... I had something on my mind. What did you say, Turais?"

         "Is there something wrong?" Turais inquired.

         "No," Orion replied immediately. He quickly pressed his lips together and quirked a smile. "Everything is fine..."

         "Is Alex alright?"

         There was a tensing of his father's shoulders, but Orion shook his head and said hastily, "I suspect it is only a mild case of the flu. He will be up in no time."

         "Are you sure?" Turais pressed.

         "Of course," Orion snapped defensively. "Why wouldn't he be?"

         Taken aback by the sharpness of his father's tone, Turais muttered, "I... that was silly of me to ask."

         Orion softened his expression. He said gently, "I didn't mean to sound angry at you, Turais. I am just worried - extremely worried - about Alex. The death of Lord Fawley last year and now with his father's disappearance… He is only fourteen years old, and to already have suffered from so many tragedies… I fear he will be unable to cope with it all."

         "I… I understand," Turais gulped. "I'm trying my best to be there for him."

         Orion cupped a hand on Turais's cheek and caressed it with his thumb. 

         "I understand, Turais. You have always been such a thoughtful child," Orion smiled. "I am proud of you."

         Turais nodded. "I don't know if I am doing enough… but at the same time, I don't know what else I can do."

         "Life is cruel and unfair, and sometimes, there are pitifully few things we can do," Orion said with an unusual hint of sorrow and bitterness in his voice. Turais saw his father's eyes glistening with emotions before they closed. Orion took in a long, calming breath and breathed out shakily, "Take good care of him, hmm?"

         "Of… of course, Father," Turais gulped. Orion opened his eyes and gave Turais an approving pat on the shoulder before descending the stairs.

          Turais brought up a breakfast tray up to Alex's room the following morning. After placing three successive knocks on Alex's bedroom door, a voice inside spoke clearly, "Come in."

          Nudging the door open with his left shoulder, Turais greeted the alert boy brightly, "Good morning!"

          "Morning," Alex croaked softly. However, upon seeing the bed tray in Turais's hands, Alex immediately sat up and tried to heave himself out of bed. With a weak groan, he reached out his stiff arms and said, "Let me help -" 

          "You stay where you are," Turais said firmly as he set the tray over Alex's lap. "Kreacher made porridge for you. After you finish, you can take your third round of Potions."

          "Thank you," Alex mumbled with a dip of his head. "Sorry..."

          "There is nothing to be sorry about, Alex," Turais scolded lightly. "But if I hear that word one more time, you will have something to apologize for."

          "Your father taking care of me... you bringing up my breakfast... I can't help but feel indebted..."

          "Of course, I expect you to take care of me with the same level of high-quality service when I inevitably fall ill one day," Turais teased as Alex offered a weak grimace-like grin in response. "So, how are you feeling today?"

          "Much better," Alex replied as Turais placed his palm against his friend's forehead. "But my head still hurts."

          "Well, at least your fever broke," Turais noted. "Bed rest for today, and you should be up and running by tomorrow."

          "Thank you," Alex whispered, looking transfixed by the rising steam from the bowl of porridge.

          "Stop saying that as well."

          Alex looked away from the breakfast and quipped lightly, "Just let me express my civility in peace, Turais. You don't want to rile up the sick patient."

          Turais scowled playfully before cracking a grin.

 

***

 

          After Alex had fully recovered, the Black family household planned a trip to Optim Alley to do some holiday shopping and soak up the winter festivities. The high-end shopping lane was coated in a thick layer of pristine white snow, making the whole street look like an iced Christmas cake. A few shrieking children with snowballs in their hands skid past market stalls decked with blinking Christmas lights. On the far end of the street, a group of witches was carolling under a snow-clad pavilion. Beside them, a man was brandishing his wand elegantly as streams of snow piled and formed a beautiful sculpture of a train. 

          "Woah!" Sirius gasped as he darted across the street and pressed his face against a display case. Waving his arm ecstatically, he shouted, "Reggie, come look at this!"

          Regulus trudged over with a grunt. Then, his eyes sparkled as he found himself looking at the latest toy release for this Christmas season, which was a large model Quidditch pitch display with figurines engaged in an exciting match.

          "This is the set that we've been reading about in Quidditch Quarterly!" Sirius said excitedly. Regulus nodded along as his eyes tracked the miniature Quaffle being passed between the players with fascination. "It comes with the enchantments required for your figurine collection! Then, we can stage our own fantasy Quidditch matches!"

          Turning around, Regulus said, "Father, can we have a closer look?!"

          "Yes," Orion chuckled as the two boys scrambled through the front door that was held open by a greeting wizard.

          As Turais entered the store, he glanced up at the shimmering cursive letters that spelt out "L'Atelier des Lumières." The lobby of the seven-storied luxury department store was a grand spectacle of splendour and opulence. Above their heads, a great dome of glass filled the cavernous space with warm, welcoming light. Dignified oak panels carved with the shimmering, golden image of a hand holding an illuminated wand - the crest of the store - lined the walls. A thick, red carpet guided customers from the front doors to the middle of the hall, where a gracefully curving staircase descended to the lower levels. Two giant Christmas trees stood on either side of the staircase decked with Christmas lights, baubles, and ornaments. An enchanted Father Christmas figurine on a broomstick zoomed through the air and left trailing dust of glistening snow, which drifted slowly onto the customers below. 

          A delicate chime rang beside Turais and alerted him to the row of lifts that was readily accessible for travelling to any floor.

          "Father, let's go to the Toys department on the second floor!" Sirius shouted as he pointed at the directory. Regulus was bouncing on his toes as well. "The Quidditch section is also on that floor!"

          "Alright, alright. Turais, Alex, why don't you both look around and meet us on the second floor in an hour?" suggested Orion as he was dragged away by his two younger sons towards one of the lifts.

          "Yes, Father," Turais grinned and waved until the doors closed shut. Turning back to the store directory, Turais asked his companion, "Where do you want to go?"

          "Maison de chaussures - shoes department. Salon de parfums - perfume and cologne department," Alex wrinkled his nose at the terms and translations.

          "How about furniture and homeware, or as they call it, musée du meuble, on the fourth floor?"

          "I have no use for that!" Alex exclaimed.

          "It's called browsing, Alex. Let's have a look around. Maybe something will catch your eye?"

          "Fine," Alex muttered. "But I seriously doubt it."

          Alex's resolve immediately came into question as the lift opened up to a stadium-sized room that was divided by thin partition walls. Each bedroom-sized showroom displayed home decorations with individual themes and styles that ranged from mundane to outlandish, inspiring to extremely concerning.

          One of the more outrageous displays was a set-up that Turais could only describe as a room drunk on Amortentia. Every item, nook, and cranny was in a monochromatic shade of pink. Another featured display was an Azkaban-inspired dungeon bedroom with cold, stone walls. It included a bale of straw in the corner, which served as the bed, and a spike-filled iron cabinet that was supposedly the robe closet. For added flair, splashes of water squirted into the room through a jail window with vertical iron cast bars that displayed the dramatic, stormy weather of the North Sea. The placard said that a Dementor facsimile was also available as an additional feature. Of course, it would cost extra, but Turais could not fathom why anyone would pay to wake up to a heart attack every day.

          Looking around, Turais noticed that Alex was no longer next to him. He located the boy standing a short distance away at an exhibition that felt like a glimpse into a fictional world where futuristic steam-powered machinery ruled the world. Metal cogs, pipes, and levers that ran the length of the steel wall moved in a rhythmic, mechanical pattern as puffs of steam escaped from the tiny exhausts openings. Turais then turned to his friend and saw Alex's mouth was hanging open slightly as his eyes focused at a point directly above him, transfixed. 

          "What are you looking at?" Turais asked. Following Alex's gaze, he saw a fantastical chandelier of rings, lamps, and blown glass arranged concentrically around a hooded lamp in the centre. Suspended around the centre were nine engraved hematite rings, each holding an Edison antique-style bulb that encased a luminous ball of light. Powered by the mechanical, solid brass gears at the poles of spherical structure, the rings rotated in an intricate, perpetual motion.

          "Woah..." Turais could not help but gasp at the mesmerizing sight.

          "It's stunning, isn't it?" breathed Alex.

          Turais nodded and turned to look at the gallery placard nearby. It read: "Orrery gyroscope chandelier in glass, hematite, and brass."

          A glance at the price below the description caused Turais to grimace.

          "It will cost you."

          Alex took in a lungful of air and released it. Then, he gave the object a rueful, final glance before asking, "Is it time to rejoin your brothers?"

          Turais checked his watch and discovered that they were already running late by five minutes. "We best hurry back."

          They made their way up to the second floor, which was bursting with a flurry of activities. Children and parents gathered around the large glass exhibition cases throughout the floor and discussed the latest arrivals excitedly. Just as Turais despaired about how he would ever find his family. Alex nudged him and pointed at three familiar faces sitting in a roped-off area with plush, comfortable seating and ample distance away from the fray. However, the aisles were so tightly packed with hurried customers that Turais felt he was going nowhere. For almost a minute, he was stepped on, elbowed, and glared at before he finally squeezed through the crowd to the other side.

          Suddenly, a pair of arms shot out in front of Turais. The two boys looked up to see the stern faces of security wizards in navy-blue robes with a golden crest of the company over their chest pocket.

          "This is the VIP section," one of the men grunted.

          "That's my father," Turais said as he pointed at Orion. At the same time, Sirius looked up and waved at them excitedly. 

          With another grunt, the wizard unclipped the red velvet rope and allowed them passage. The moment Turais stepped across the barrier, the noise of the crowd faded into a muffled drone.

          A uniformed witch bowed politely and said, "Master Turais Black, Master Fawley, may I offer you some refreshments?"

          Turais glanced at Alex, who shook his head, before replying with a polite smile. "We are fine, thank you."

          "Of course," the woman said warmly. "Please follow me to your section. Your family is currently assisted by one of my colleagues -"

          "Turais!" Sirius leapt off of the couch before the witch could take a step. He immediately dragged the older boy towards the other side of the room and pointed at several racks of fabrics that contained a myriad of earth tones. Turais did not know there were so many possible shades of gold, beige, and brown, each slightly different from the next. "Which colour do you think is better? This shade of gold, or that one? Or is this beige one better?"

          "What is this for?" Turais frowned.

          "The fabric canopy in my room!" Sirius explained. "I am planning to have my room look like a Quidditch tent with these drapes -" Sirius lifted a set of thick, velvet drapes, "- and a wall-mount for my broomstick, a set of new quilts in these colours." Sirius led him to another corner of the room where he pointed out the red-and-gold pattern fabric from the catalogue book. Instantly, the quilt sample on the table transformed into the desired patterns and colours. "I also want to ask for a couple of Quidditch banners!"

          Examining the fabric, Turais tried to envision what Sirius's room would look like. All he could come up with was a bedroom transformed into a part-Gryffindor common room and part-Quidditch changing room.

          "So, what do you think?" Sirius asked while eyeing Turais's reaction hungrily.

          He replied diplomatically, "This is an oddly specific vision. Did Father agree to it?"

          "Not yet," Sirius pouted. Then, he clutched Turais's arm and said, "Can you help me convince him?"

          "I'll try..." Looking at Sirius's delighted expression, Turais quickly added. "No promises..."

          "Thanks, Turais!" Sirius said before he leapt across the room and started to pelt questions at the assisting witch about different types of banners.

          Turais settled into a seat beside Orion, who was sipping a cup of tea, and watched as Regulus carefully examined several large posters of medieval cartographic maps laid across the side table.

          "What happened to Sirius?" Turais whispered softly into Orion's ear.

          Orion sighed and said, "I promised to let them choose whatever they wanted to renovate their rooms, but Sirius seems to be running away with the idea."

          Turais chuckled, "As usual. Are you letting him buy all that?"

          "Of course not," Orion huffed. "I'll allow the wall mount and the banners, but he can have fun for a little longer."

          "How about you, Reggie?" Turais asked as the boy tore his gaze from the images. "What are you looking at?"

          "I like maps, so I want to choose a poster and hang it in my room... but I don't like any of their offerings..."

          "I see..." Turais hummed. "Have you considered star charts?"

          Regulus inhaled excitedly with widened eyes as he immediately raised his arm to get the woman's attention, "Ms Twelvetrees, do you have posters of star charts?"

          "Of course," the personal shopper smiled. With the wave of a wand, she wiped the posters clear of any images and replaced them with various animated star charts.

          "These are great!" Regulus gasped in delight as he began to pore over them at once.

          "How about you, Turais?" Orion asked. "Do you want to refurbish your room?"

          Turais hummed thoughtfully as he recalled his walk through the furniture department. He addressed Ms Twelvetrees and said, "I did see a beautiful set of display frames at one of the showcases on the fourth floor. I was wondering if you can find it for me?"

          "Of course," the woman said as she summoned a heavy tome and flipped through the pages. "What is the name of the display?"

          "A Gallery of Time... I think," Turais said.

          "We have an exhibit called A Gallery Through Time. Perhaps that is the one you are referring to?" Twelvetrees said. She tapped her wand on the page, and the set of frames appeared in thin air and hovered gently in front of him. The frames were thin, black, and sleek in a modern style favoured in the nineties.

          "This is it," Turais said. Looking at Orion, he asked, "What do you think, Father? I am planning to frame our photographs to make a portrait wall."

          "That's a good idea," Orion said slowly. "But the frames are... quite...  unorthodox."

          Turais supposed they were quite avant-garde for the seventies’ muggle world, let alone the wizarding world.

          "Mr Black, your son wishes you to help him select the banners," another staff member announced. With a sigh, Orion stood up. Before he walked out, he turned around and said, "Turais, if this is what you want, you can buy it."

          "I'll think about it," Turais promised. Turning to his friend, Turais asked, "How about you? Has anything caught your eye besides the ghastly over-priced lamp?"

          "I... I suppose," Alex said hesitantly. "I did come across a bookcase... but, never mind... I'm not going to purchase it anyway..."

          "Which one is it? Let's have a look at it first!"

          With an odd amount of reluctance, Alex told the lady the showcase name. A tall, ornate, red mahogany bookcase materialized in the centre of the room, and Turais's eyes were immediately drawn to the middle shelf. Instead of an empty row of space for books, it was an in-built display case with an exquisite cross-sectional replica of Diagon Alley behind the protective glass. In the foreground was the slanting cobblestone street with countless, faceless miniatures walking up and down. Against the back panel of the bookcase were all the iconic storefronts of the famed shopping district shown in exacting details: tiny sculptures of owls in cages lined the storefront of Eeylops Owl Emporium, stacks of brass and pewter cauldrons tilting dangerously in the snow-filled alleyway next to Potage's Cauldron Shop, and the dark, ominous archway that led to the notorious Knockturn Alley. 

          "Is this showing the actual movements of shoppers in real-time?" Turais wondered as he examined the movements of the figurines closely.

          "Yes, Mr Black," Twelvetrees said proudly. "It is quite an intricate and clever charmwork if I can say so myself."

          Glancing at the price, which seemed reasonable, Turais encouraged, "You should buy this, Alex!"

          "I think I am fine," Alex muttered. "I'll find something else to buy if I have to. A quill, perhaps."

          "Why are you trying to find something else? You love to read, so this is perfect for you!" Turais said as Alex pressed his lips further into a dangerously thin line. "We can place this next to the window with the alcove seating. Then, we can choose a carpet and a reading lamp. Throw in a couple of pillows, and, voila, I can already picture a cozy reading nook!"

          "Your family has a library with rows of shelves," Alex gritted out. "We don't need to buy another one."

          "But this is your room and your bookcase. It's your private space -"

          "You seem to have conveniently forgotten that it is your house," Alex interrupted with a frustrated huff. "I'm just a guest. I don't have the right to furnish the guest room."

          It was then that Turais understood Alex's hesitation.

          "Alex, listen to me," Turais said firmly. "You're part of the family as far as I'm concerned. The room is yours, and you can stay there for as long as you want to."

          Alex's breath hitched as his lips started to wobble slightly. Turais patted Alex before averting his gaze as he could not hold the sight of intense sincerity in his friend's eyes. Taking a few calming breaths, Turais shook off the tension on his shoulder before he said with a cheery tone, "So, what were we talking about? Yes, carpets…"

 

***

 

          "How does it look?" Turais asked Alex as he stepped back and considered the completed renovations.

          A plant, a stool, and a side-table for in-progress books formed a natural partition that carved out an intimate, shelf-lined space in the far corner of Alex's room. To the right, oversized pillows, perfect for reclining against, lined the cushioned alcove bench. To the left, the mahogany display bookcase of Diagon Alley - the centrepiece of the installation - stood proudly against the wall. Plenty of light filtered through the drawn curtains of the bay window, and a pendant hanging from the ceiling offered extra illumination for late-night reading sessions. Finally, a pair of beige wing chairs, intentionally placed to create a sense of privacy, completed the section.

          The colour palette of the space was also magically charmed to reflect the occupant's mood. Currently, everything was in vibrant yellow and orange shades, reflecting the joy and delight that Turais felt.

          A light chirp alerted Turais to a mechanical, copper-plated bird fluttering into the room. He recognized it as one of the trinkets offered at the steampunk-inspired display that had deeply engrossed Alex. Without warning, it dove at Turais, who immediately caught it with hastily cupped hands. The thin, delicate wings tickled his palms as they slowed to a stop. Peering through the narrow opening between the metallic case of the bird's body, he caught a glimpse of the tiny gears and springs moving in an intricate, synchronized manner. The bird then hopped from his palm and onto the book-filled shelf, where it settled into an empty space and turned idle.

          Silently, Alex shuffled forward, and the reading nook took on new colours. The amber drapes slowly turned to a delicate pale green, and the chestnut brown carpet darkened to a rich emerald green. He studied every detail of this transformed space in an innocent, childlike wonder: white-stained wood panels, pastel teal-coloured wing chairs, and a silver pendant.

          Turning around, Alex's gaze communicated an incredible sense of appreciation and gratefulness. Turais's heart swelled with contentment as he returned a tender smile.

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-03-12

Chapter 65: Fundamentals of Duelling

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

- ravenclawblues 2022-03-26

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A shout out to Watcher30 for pointing out inconsistencies and typos.

 

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway.

 

***

 

Appendix V - Fundamentals of Duelling excerpt

 

 

 

  "A duellist defends like a swordsman and attacks like a marksman."

 

There are 3 D’s in duelling defence: Disengage, Dodge, Deflect . The three words are intentionally ordered to prioritize one's safety. In the face of a nameless enemy with an unknown skill set, one should always choose to disengage and seek help from local authorities. If one decides to engage the enemy, either due to the inability to escape or acting in defence of other unarmed victims or plain recklessness, one must always favour dodging instead of deflecting an incoming spell as there is always a risk posed by remaining in the path of the attack. This is exemplified by the Unforgivable Curses, which cannot be deflected and must be dodged or intercepted by an object.

When one ultimately decides that engaging with the enemy and deflecting the incoming spell is the best course of action, one must first determine the line of attack, or the main direction of the incoming spell, and the corresponding parry that must be made to deflect the attack.

The primary function of a parry is to prevent an opponent's attack from landing. There are five parry positions in the traditional system of duelling. The parry positions are determined by two attributes: 1) The position of the hand in relation to the centre mass and 2) The rotation of the wrist in the hand holding the wand: supination (palm up) or pronation (palm down). 

Once the line of attack is determined, the appropriate parry must be selected. The five traditional parries are numbered from one to five and named in accordance with the line of attack that it is designed to defend against: 1) Front, 2) High Left, 3) High Right, 4) Low Left, and 5) Low Right.

Due to the wand movement of the Protego charm, the supinated wrist is the default position for all parries. This wrist position also naturally deflects incoming spells away from the centre mass. A skilled duellist should also be able to perform more difficult variations of the Shield Charm that leaves the wrist in the pronated position, which would allow one to reflect the attack back towards the enemyIn the case of projectiles or spells with corporeal manifestation (e.g., Aguamenti - the water-conjuration spell, or transfigured objects), one can also use wrist rotation to manipulate and gain control of the enchanted material. This is a special type of parry-riposte known as containment . However, this technique requires extreme precision and control in both wand and wrist movements and should not be attempted carelessly.

The proper timing of the parry is also crucial to its effectiveness. Parrying too early or too late renders the Shield Charm useless against the incoming spell and leads to disastrous consequences for the defender. In the best scenario, the defender is thrown off-balance and stumbles. In the worst scenario, the defender suffers from the full power of the spell. 

Parrying within the optimal range maximizes the strength of the Shield Charm and is crucial for follow-up actions such as a strong riposte or counter-attack. Parries can be divided into two categories based on their timing: on-time and off-time. On-time parries are executed near the centre of the optimal range of timing and offer the strongest deflection or reflection. Off-time parries are executed at the fringes of the optimal range of timing. The protection offered is significantly reduced and is only useful with a reflection parry. However, if used wisely and effectively, it may catch the enemy by surprise, throw off their attack momentum, and greatly increase the success rate of the subsequent counter-attack . Conversely, the proper execution of an off-time parry is extremely difficult, and its poor usage might prove to be a fatal mistake.

The flawless execution of a reflection parry neutralizes the attack, immediately returns a riposte, and forces the enemy to respond with a defensive parry. One could then seize the opportunity and go on the offensive. While less powerful, a deflection parry also neutralizes the attack and offers the defender an opportunity to return a riposte

 

*** 

 


CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

FUNDAMENTALS OF DUELLING


 

January 6, 1973 (Saturday)

 

LORD HARDWIN PRINCE FOUND DEAD 

by Demelza Keats

First Family Seat to be Converted into Elected Seat in Half-Century

 

What is suspected to be a fatal brawl broke out at the Cackling Stump pub in Wandsworth last night between Lord Prince and Master Lufkin. Lord Prince was found by Hit Wizards later that night lying unconscious in the back alley of the nearby Galloping Horse pub and was pronounced dead on site due to exsanguination. 

Witnesses at the Cackling Stump claimed that the late Lord Prince instigated a fierce verbal altercation with Master Lufkin, who has been arrested on suspicion of murder and violent disorder.

“They were both drunk and screaming profanities at each other,” Mr Delauney, the owner of the establishment, recounted. “At some point, their wands were drawn and I had to physically separate them. Then, I told [Lord Prince] to head home and escorted him out of my pub.”

Deputy Head Auror Charlus Potter confirmed the account at a press conference. He added: “What is also vital is what happened to Lord Prince after he left the Cackling Stump, how he travelled between the two pubs, and how the fatal wound was inflicted.

“Any information, no matter how insignificant it may seem, could be crucial.”

With the passing of the last male descendant of the Prince family, the Prince family seat will be converted into an elected seat in the next Ministerial election as stipulated by the Grand Promulgation of 1805 (see the War of Inheritance of 1799 on page 4)...

 

***

 

          Soon, the Christmas holidays were over and Turais found himself in his weekly peer-tutoring session with Pierricoeur. However, instead of a secretive two-person arrangement, the study session had now expanded to include their closest friends. Therefore, Turais, Alex, and Jonty were sitting with Pierricoeur and his friends, Prang and Tattersall, in an empty classroom as they worked on their latest assignments.

          "I hate this," Turais moaned as he slumped into his chair. "This is only the first assignment after the holidays and, already, nothing makes sense."

          Alex peered over his shoulder and blanched.

          "Maybe ask Pierricoeur?”

          Writing furiously with his quill across the parchment, Pierricoeur asked without looking up, "What is it this time?"

          Turais pushed the textbook across the table to the Ravenclaw. He took a glance at the diagram of intersecting lines and geometric shapes that looked like a deformed map of the London Tube and grimaced before turning back to his Transfiguration essay.

          "That’s a difficult problem. It took me hours to figure it out."

          "Of course you figured it out," Turais muttered before dragging the heavy book back towards him.

          "Complaining is not a good look on you, Black," Pierricoeur opined. “Just try it out.”

          Turais heaved another long, suffering sigh. Then, he held up his textbook and started rotating it in various angles. However, it failed to make the diagram any more comprehensible.

          Pierricoeur eyed the bemoaning boy and rolled his eyes. Setting his quill aside, he commanded, "Put the book down, Black.”

          Turais eagerly set down his notes and all the boys leaned in to watch as Pierricoeur marked various points with circles. "Is this any clearer?"

          They shook their heads and Pierricoeur sighed. "Basically, the question asks you to find out what Miraphora will likely encounter tomorrow according to Karuzos's theory of numerological calculations. So, you need to first find the temporal locus of Mira’s birth chart and overlay it with tomorrow’s star chart. Then you can use Bragnam triangulation and the secondary partial derivative to determine the bounds of the solution. Finally, apply the third rule in Longham’s Conjecture to isolate the four variables."

          "I think I did something similar…" Jonty muttered as he consulted his work. "My answer is Miraphora will visit her grandmother’s and find a werewolf there instead."

          "No," Pierricoeur said curtly. "The answer is that Miraphora Mordraine has a high likelihood of encountering two simultaneously activating Portkeys in Minnesota."

          "Oh," Jonty said before his face flushed dangerously red. "That was not even close…"

          "Two years of Arithmancy and Miraphora still cannot figure out her own fate..." Turais said in frustration. "And what would even happen if she was transported by two Portkeys at the same time?!"

           Pierricoeur let out a snort before he turned his attention back to his work.

           “Well, you better get started on it. I’m almost finished with my essay. Then I’ll need your help with Potions.”

           Turais buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly.

 

***

 

          A few days later, Turais was in his scheduled practice session with Professor Mather as he attempted precision control with the Levitation Charm again.

          He was currently building a three-tiered pyramid using glass marbles. The bottom two layers were already completed, with only the single marble on top remaining. Adjusting the grip on his elder wand, Turais took in a calm breath as he honed his focus on his pulsating magical core. Sharpening his senses, he constricted the stream of magical power through his wand arm into a consistent, steady flow. Confident with his control, Turais enunciated, " Wingardium Leviosa. "

          The marble started to levitate gently. It wobbled and trembled as if there was an imperceptible draft blowing through the room. However, Turais knew it was because he was waging a constant battle against the rush of energy pushing against his constraints and threatening to unleash itself.

          "Focus," Professor Mather's voice called out from beside him as Turais slowly directed the marble over the rest of the formation. Careful not to disturb the structure below, Turais gently rested the marble in the centre of the four below it. His furrowed brow finally smoothed out as he let out an exhausted gasp.

          "Good. Very good," the professor complimented as he summoned the marbles and stored them into a tiny glass phial. "It seems you have been practising over the holidays." Turais flushed at being caught out for performing magic outside of school, but Mather did not seem particularly bothered by the rule-breaking behaviour. "Your wand movement could have been more fluid and refined, but with all things, it requires practice. That said, you have grasped the basic principle of controlled spell-casting. You should be very proud of your progress, Mr Black."

          "Thank you, Professor," Turais said with utmost sincerity. Then, after a deprecating sigh, he continued, "But I have a sense this still should not have been such a struggle."

          "You need to learn not to fight against your power. Divert it back to your core, which will conserve your strength. It would be unwise to expend your energy needlessly, especially if you are engaged in a duel."

          Turais looked up at the last word as he was reminded of something.

          "Professor, I was wondering if you could train me in duelling as well?" Mather tilted his head inquisitively, and Turais quickly added, "It is alright if you don't have the time. I dared to make the request only because you have so kindly offered me private instruction already."

          "I don't mind at all, Mr Black," Mather said soothingly. "I was merely caught by surprise as most students would have sought out my colleague, Professor Flitwick, for this specific request."

          Glancing at the sterling silver trophies that sat on a shelf behind the Professor's chair, Turais leaned forward and said, "I do not mean to duel for sport."

          "Ah."

          "So... would it be possible for us to arrange something on this front?"

          Mather considered the boy before him carefully. Then, he asked curiously, "Allow me this question: 'What is your goal for these lessons?'"

          "I wish to be on par with the Aurors by the end of my schooling at Hogwarts," Turais revealed.

          "So you wish to become an Auror in the future?"

          "Yes."

          "Well, this is a lofty and fiercely ambitious goal for a fourth-year," Mather cleared his throat and furrowed his brow in consideration. "To be at their level, you must have an excellent command of non-verbal spell-casting, advanced transfiguration, Apparition, basic Occlumency, and, preferably, Legilimency as well. These are all highly-advanced magics, and you will only begin to learn them at the N.E.W.T.'s level."

          "I know how to cast spells non-verbally. I am also well-read on advanced transfiguration. As for Apparition, we will not be able to practice that in Hogwarts anyhow," Turais said immediately. "I think I know the basics of Occlumency and Legilimency."

          "I don't doubt your abilities with a wand, Mr Black, but I worry that you are overstating your competency in the magics concerning the mind." Turais froze in concern at the assessment as Mather explained further, "The sole reasoning for my claim is that you are well-known for your great sensibility, and Occlumency is often exceptionally difficult for someone like you."

          The Professor stood up and walked to one of the bookshelves. Pulling out two books, he returned to his seat and handed the first one to Turais.

          Fundamentals of Duelling.

          "I need to make sure you understand all the basics of duelling before we start to tackle the more complex aspects. This is your first priority," Mather explained as he handed Turais a second book. 

          The Memory Fortress.

          "Read and practice," Mather said. "Of course, only basic Occlumency is required as it is near impossible for your opponent to sustain a prolonged Legilimency attack whilst duelling. Nonetheless, it will be a handy tool in your arsenal should you master it. The chapters on passive Occlumency are most valuable for your purpose."

          Turais frowned as the unpleasant memories of his practice sessions with Snape filled his mind. 

          "Don't worry," Mather consoled, observing the boy's look of disgruntlement. "I will also be here to guide you on this journey."

          "Thank you..." Turais muttered as his gaze lingered on the second book. There was only one practical method to aid someone in learning Occlumency, which was to perform Legilimency on that person. The implications of this act were not lost on Turais, and it was also one of the deterrents that prevented him from continuing his studies on the subject as Turais Black. "But I would prefer to practice this on my own for now."

          "Of course," Mather acquiesced. "As you are familiar with this subject, I trust that you also understand the importance of practical training. I strongly encourage you to find a partner with whom you enjoy a strong mutual trust. This is the best way and, in my opinion, the only way to success."

          "I... I will consider it, sir."

          "Very well," Mather nodded. "We can start practising duelling techniques next week."

          "Thank you, sir." 

          Turais tipped his head gratefully before he left the office.

          Upon returning to the Slytherin dormitory, Turais noted that all the beds were empty except for Jonty's. Sitting down on his bed, he placed the books on his bedside table and asked, "Where's Alex?" 

          "He said he needed to find Professor Mather," Jonty replied as he flipped to the next page of the Quidditch Quarterly . Puddlemere United was featured on the cover as players in navy-blue robes zig-zagged in and out of sight. "Reckon it is for some Ancient Runes homework."

          "Huh, I didn't see Alex on my way back. Also, Alex doesn't have Ancient Runes as an elective, Jonty," Turais replied blandly, to which Jonty merely shrugged.

          "You can ask him yourself when he returns."

          "It's quite alright," Turais muttered. He flopped onto the bed bonelessly and started reading The Memory Fortress.

          However, his initial skepticism of the book quickly evaporated as he found himself pleasantly surprised by the readability of the text. The author wove a compelling story of the evolution of memory techniques that slowly transitioned into an introduction of Occlumency.

          "No repository is impregnable. Similarly, no mind is impenetrable," the author wrote in the final lines of the introduction. "While it is important to protect the mind from unsolicited intrusions, there is no absolute defense against a determined invader. Occlumency is, therefore, ultimately the art of deception and misdirection. In the following chapters, you will learn to organize, protect, disguise, and obnubilate the mind..."

          Turais's thoughts drifted towards who he could find as a potential partner in this venture. That person had to be someone he trusted wholeheartedly and without the shadow of a doubt. However, there was a possibility that some of his most well-kept secrets would be revealed in the process, so Turais had to take that into serious consideration.

          This would be an important decision, and a wrong choice could lead to disastrous results.

          Turais had just finished the chapter on mind compartmentalization when he noticed a dark shadow cast over half the page. He looked up and saw Alex sitting next to him and peering over his shoulder. Further away, Jonty's bed was now empty, with the magazine abandoned on the bedside table next to it.

          "Sorry," Alex breathed. "I didn't mean to startle you."

          "That's no matter," Turais said quickly.

          "What are you reading?"

          "It's a book on Occlumency."

          Alex frowned as he asked, "What is Occlumency?"

          "It is the magic of protecting your mind from Legilimency. And Legilimency is the act of navigating through a person's mind and interpreting their thoughts, emotions, and knowledge."

          "Is Legilimency a form of mind-reading then?"

          "It isn't as straightforward as that. The mind is a complex, many-layered thing, and thoughts or memories cannot be simply 'read,'" Turais explained. "But those who have mastered this art can supposedly search the mind and correctly interpret the findings. However, I have yet to learn it, so I wouldn't know what it is like."

          "So, Legilimency allows one to search the mind, and Occlumency allows one to protect the mind," Alex concluded, and Turais nodded in affirmation. "Why are you studying this all of a sudden?"

          "Well, it is always useful to stop others from poking through your private thoughts," Turais said. "And it has a lot of other practical purposes as well. For example, knowing basic Occlumency can prevent your duelling opponent from anticipating your next attacks."

          "I see..." Alex muttered as he leaned closer and read the page with interest. "How do you learn this?"

          "Well, you must find a way to organize your thoughts and obscure them from view," Turais said. “The best way to practice this is to have someone perform Legilimency on you."

          Alex turned to look at Turais as his eyes widened in worry.

          "But... but doesn't that mean..." Turais nodded thoughtfully as Alex blanched. "So... does that mean they will see all your thoughts?"

          "That is a possibility," Turais admitted. "Especially at the beginning stages when you are not that well-trained. But it is not without risk for the Legilimens since both minds are somewhat connected during the exercise. Therefore, you might accidentally get access to that person's thoughts when attempting to repel their attack. This is one of the reasons why Occlumency is not a very common skill amongst wizardkind despite its usefulness. There is a great risk that comes with learning it."

          Turais closed the book with a snap and said with a grin, "However, I plan on practising on my own for now and see where it leads me. Perhaps it won't be so bad after all."

          "I know you can do it," Alex said sincerely.

 

***

 

          Following Professor Mather's instruction, Turais arrived at an empty classroom in the basement of the Ravenclaw Tower the following week. With a singular knock, the door swung open automatically. Peering into the large, circular dungeon, Turais immediately noticed a round elevated platform in the centre of the room where the professor stood with his wand resting between his folded hands. On the wall, numerous mounted torches formed an amber ring of light over their heads, but the flames did little to alleviate the pervasive coldness and dampness. 

          "Good evening, Mr Black," Mather greeted as his voice rang throughout the chamber. Unlike the long, swinging robes he usually wore during class, the professor sported a brown tunic under a pearl-beige embroidered duelling vest.

          "Good evening, Professor," Turais replied politely. He carefully closed the door behind him, the sound of the latch closing reverberating loudly.

          "Please join me up here," Mather called out. "You won't need anything except your wand."

          Turais nodded. He set his belongings by the platform, clutched his wand in his right hand, and climbed the stairs.

           "I trust that you have read the assigned text on duelling?" Mather inquired.

          "Yes, sir," Turais said. He glanced around the uninviting space and fiddled with his wand in mild anticipation.

          "Good. How many basic duelling positions are there? And how are they related?"

          "There are a total of ten positions. Five serve as offensives, and the other five act as their corresponding defenses."

          "While we are on the topic, I should point out that only the overhead, forward, and underhand positions are commonly used in real-life situations."

          The comment reminded Turais of a question he had in mind. "Professor, while I was reading, I noticed there was no mention of the footwork and stances for the reverse and back offensive positions. All it said was: 'Agility in movement and thought is paramount.'"

          "Sage advice," Mather commented. He took several measured paces backwards while keeping his gaze on Turais the entire time - a seemingly harmless movement. "The only time you should be attempting these positions is in desperation whilst fleeing for your life."

          "The author did comment that these positions are most effective when one finds themselves surrounded or outnumbered by their enemies," Turais mused. "But are there no practical applications beyond these scenarios? For example, when one tries to catch the opponent off-guard precisely because they are not expecting the move?"

          "Whatever you gain in surprise, you lose double that in accuracy and power. I would advise against it in the strongest terms," Mather replied. Warily, Turais eyed the professor as he casually adjusted the grip on his wand. "However, we will focus on attacks in another session. Let us first start with assessing your defensive techniques today."

          Without warning, Mather whipped his wand towards Turais as a burst of brilliant, indigo light erupted from its tip.

          Anticipating the surprise attack, Turais immediately raised his wand to cast a non-verbal Shield Charm. The spell grazed the protective barrier and ricocheted towards his right, where it chipped off a tiny bit of limestone. Before Turais could take a breath, he was forced to parry another spell. Better prepared this time around, he judged its direction and speed and quickly positioned himself to receive it. 

          With a well-timed twist of his wrist, Turais reflected the spell towards Mather with another silent Protego. The blood-red jinx connected with an incoming jet of gleaming white light that flooded the entire room as the dual streaks of energy collided. Turais was forced to raise his guard arm to shield his eyes as he sent out an offensive spell blindly. Squinting through his lashes, Turais realized that Mather had moved several steps away from his original position. It was then that he noticed belatedly that a Disarming spell had emerged from the dimming shower of light. Unable to react in time, the spell slammed into Turais's chest as his wand was ripped from his fingers.

          "I yield," Turais gasped as he heard the clattering of his wand against the stone floor. He looked back and met Mather's steely gaze. The professor merely arched a brow before enunciating a calm " Flipendo. "

          Turais stepped back to dodge and quickly discovered there was nothing to step on. He twisted in the air and tumbled off the platform. Hissing in pain, Turais scanned his surroundings and found his wand lying several feet away. He immediately lunged for the weapon as he heard a warning whistle of an incoming spell.

          The moment Turais wrapped his fingers around his wand, he rolled onto his back and shouted, " Protego! "

          However, instead of an incorporeal spell, Turais was faced with a thick, twisting rope that snaked around his partially-formed shield and rushed to immobilize him.

          Turais was able to pull his wand arm away in the nick of time. However, his left arm and legs were now pinned onto the ground as his entire body was wrenched into an uncomfortable position. As the sentient rope continued to twine around his torso, Turais jabbed it with his wand and shouted, " Incendio! "

          A burst of flames erupted from the tip of his wand and incinerated the hemp cord. Turais immediately felt its grip on him loosen. Then he directed the flame from the nearest torch towards the professor as a distraction before severing the rest of the ropes to free his legs.

          Mather dissipated the fiery blast with ease just as Turais scrambled onto his feet. Breathing heavily, Turais summoned a second stream of flame to speed towards the professor. This time, the man brandished his wand in a wide motion as the fire coalesced into a blazing amber ball of heat and light.

          Before Turais could try casting the spell a third time, he suddenly felt his jaw lock, leaving his mouth hanging open and unable to speak. Mather had anticipated his attempt and preemptively countered it. Mather then hurled the gathered fireball towards him. Turais dove onto the ground and broke the fall with a forward roll, feeling the heat as the flames hurtled past his position. Instinctively, Turais reached out both arms, twisted his wand in a screw-like movement, and turned the ball into a twister of licking flames. He drew power from the nearby torches to add to the growing inferno. Whipping his wand around him like a burning lasso, the wall of fire blocked out all of Mather's subsequent attacks against him. Then, Turais thrust his wand with a spirited roar and pummelled Mather with the chaotic, warping firestorm.

          Mather's eyes widened in surprise. He crossed his arms over his head and a majestic dome of blue light appeared around him just before the torrent of flames crashed against his defense. Turais rotated his wrist and directed the flames to encircle the flickering shield.

           " Incarcifors! "

           The ring of fire transformed into a large steel cage that entombed the professor within his shield. Turais waved his wand in an intricate manner and made the steel beams press inwards, shattering the barrier.

           Mather immediately cast the counterspell to rip the cage into metallic ribbons, but Turais summoned more flames to reinforce the prison. Turais then shot a non-verbal Disarming Spell directly at the professor, who was battling valiantly against the chaotic swirl of fire and metal. His aim was true, and the wand was torn from Mather's grip and fell directly into Turais's outstretched hand.

          Breathing laboriously, Turais said, "Do you yield?"

          Mather quirked up the corner of his lips in amusement and said, "I yield."

          Turais nodded tiredly as he vanished the remains of the metal cage and collapsed onto the ground. Mather also leant against the staircase and held his chest, heaving softly.

          The two of them slowly recovered from the strenuous session. When Turais regained the strength to speak, he gasped agitatedly, "You attacked me without warning. And why did you continue when I yielded?"

          "Because I wanted to push you to your limits, Mr Black," Mather said smoothly. "The enemy does not play fair. They will not bow before shooting a deadly curse, nor will they take pause when you raise your arms in surrender. I thought this was precisely what you wished to train against."

          Turais digested the professor's words before he conceded the point. His enemy was the Death Eaters, and they would not hesitate to kill him once the war started with their allegiances declared. 

          "I did not perform as well as I should have," Turais said disappointedly. "I made several mistakes, and any single one could have cost me my life."

          "You have much room for improvement," Mather agreed. "However, you don't need to become the best duellist in the world to win a fight. You just have to perform better than your opponent. Bear this in mind."

          When one's opponent was Voldemort, this statement of reassurance did not provide much comfort.

           "Several things to note," Mather said matter-of-factly. "First, we are not bound by the standards of formal duelling. You must not limit yourself to the regular battery of offensive spells, either. For example, Lumos maxima is not commonly thought of as an offensive spell. Nonetheless, it incapacitated you enough that you failed to detect my subsequent attack. Experiment with different combinations of spells with synergistic effects that can surprise the enemy.

          "Second, a crucial aspect in real-life duels is the traversal and utilization of your surroundings to your advantage. The summoning of flames was worthy of praise. Conversely, your stumble off the platform left much to be desired.

          “Third, you must expand your arsenal of counterspells against specific attacks. While you have shown a great mastery over non-verbal Shield Charms, its weakness against corporeal spells is quite apparent. Your seeming inability to counter them effectively is a cause for concern and must be rectified.

          "Finally, never perform the same spell repeatedly or in rapid succession. The enemy can easily capitalize on it. The first time you summoned the flames, I was forced to deflect it. However, I was prepared for it the second time. A quick peek with Legilimency allowed me to counter your third attack before you could even think to cast the spell."

          “But I was shielding my mind,” Turais gasped.

          “Not securely enough,” Mather replied. “You may be marginally proficient in active Occlumency, which is to consciously protect your mind. But duelling requires passive Occlumency, which means that you maintain those shields subconsciously. This requires an entirely different set of skills.”

          Mather then continued, "Some say that the best defense is a swift and decisive offense. I generally advise amateur duellists, especially the passionate youths, against such a mindset. However, you have a firm grasp of duelling techniques and an impressive command of non-verbal and transfiguration spells. Backed with the amount of raw magical power you possess, I strongly suggest you subdue your enemy as quickly as possible.

          "Your life hangs in the balance, and as far as the enemy is concerned, so does theirs. Therefore, you must exploit every advantage you can get and end the battle on your terms."

          Eyeing Turais's pinched expression, Mather continued with a softer tone. "Despite everything I have said, you did not perform as poorly as you might be imagining. Your readiness for the surprise attack, your baseline talent, and most importantly, your will to sustain the fight even in the worst of circumstances… They are all marks of an accomplished duellist. Your skills are unrivalled amongst your peers. Should you learn to harness your power while perfecting your technical skills fully, you could become one of the most powerful wizards of our time."

          Mather said the final words with a sense of reverence that Turais did not share. However, if being the most powerful wizard was what it took to defeat Voldemort this time around, then Turais would certainly aim for that goal.

          “I shall look forward to your further instruction, professor,” Turais said politely.

          After the training session, Turais dragged his exhausted body through the dungeon corridors towards the Slytherin common room. However, he stopped in his tracks when he saw Sirius and Regulus leaning against a column opposite the blank stretch of wall that hid the secret entryway.

          "Siri? Reggie?" Turais wondered as he approached his brothers. 

          "Turais, you're here," Sirius muttered with a dark scowl on his face. Meanwhile, Regulus had his arms folded and looked equally as annoyed. Fortunately, it did not seem as though they were cross with each other.

          "What's wrong, Siri?" Turais asked gently. However, the boy merely furrowed his brow further with a grunt. Turais turned to his youngest brother, who cast a sideward glance while speaking.

          "It's Potter," Regulus explained. "He tried to apologize to Sirius, and well -"

          "He still doesn't understand what he did wrong!" Sirius spat angrily. Looking up at Turais, he hissed, "Sure, he apologized for all the trouble he caused us, but when I asked him if he’s learnt his lesson, he said… he said -"

          Sirius's entire body shook violently in frustration as his hands curled into tight fists. Regulus immediately placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and said cuttingly, "Potter said what he learnt was to 'ask someone else to accompany him next time.' Sirius, I told you he is hopeless!"

          "That arsehole!" Sirius roared as he aimed a frustrated kick at the wall. Then, his shoulder slumped tiredly as he sniffed, "I… I don't know what I was thinking… holding out expectations that he… that he would… change."

          "Why would you bother to think that?" Regulus argued heatedly. "Entitled, arrogant brats like him never change."

          Sirius clutched Turais desperately and mumbled wetly, "He was my very first friend, Turais. He was my best friend ."

          "It is often those nearest to your heart who inflict the greatest wounds," Turais whispered into Sirius's hair. Regulus looked pained before shuffling forward and giving Sirius a light, consoling pat on the shoulder. 

          The two brothers commiserated with Sirius's sorrow for a long while until Regulus's gaze suddenly sharpened at something behind Turais's back. He immediately whipped out his wand and shouted, "Entomorphis! "

          There was a pained yelp as Turais turned around to see a boy with his face turned away. However, it wasn’t enough to hide the two long, thin appendages arching from his skull, nor the faint trilling noise he was emitting from his nose.

          "James?" Turais hissed as Sirius immediately focused his gaze at a random point on the stone floor. "Were you eavesdropping on us?"

          "I didn’t mean to!" James protested as he turned around only to be reminded that he now looked like an insect. He quickly buried his face in his hands and said, "I just… I wanted to apologize to Sirius again… properly this time.... Then you came and - " James stopped his rambling and inhaled a long breath. Then, he said, "I’m sorry, Turais. And Sirius. And Regulus. All of you."

          "Just because you manage to say the word doesn’t mean you know what you are apologizing for," Regulus growled.

          "I… I do!" James shouted as the chirrups grew louder. Then, his voice grew small as he muttered, “Now I do.”

          "Do you really?” sniped Regulus. "Because I don’t think so -”

          "Reggie, let him speak," warned Turais.

          Regulus fell silent, but he continued to glare at James murderously. Without looking up at the bespectacled boy, Sirius said blankly, "Just say what you want and leave. Please make it quick."

          James stumbled forward and gasped, "I’m sorry! I am really sorry this time, because… because of the problems I caused… and not only that, because I am the problem ."

          James let his hands fall to his side. Turais could barely stifle a laugh when he saw the large, dragonfly-like eyes behind the bent glasses and pincer mandibles protruding from the corners of his lips. 

          "I am the problem," James repeated. "Just because I do something and get away with it doesn’t mean what I am doing is right. I understand that now… I really do… and I will become a better person. An improved James Potter. I promise."

          James gave a determined nod and looked at Sirius expectantly. However, he did not receive any response.

          "Are you done?" Regulus asked. "If so, leave." 

          "Reggie, lift the hex first," Turais reminded. Regulus looked disgruntled at the demand, but he did as told and vanished the insect parts off James’s head. At Sirius’s continued silence, James’s face fell and he started to walk away dejectedly.

          "I will consider it," Sirius called out. James turned around immediately with a hopeful expression.

          "Sirius!" Regulus hissed. "What are you doing -"

          "Your apology," Sirius said as he continued to stare at the floor. "I will consider it."

          "So are we friends again?"

          Sirius hesitated before he shook his head.

          "I… I need some time to think…" he said.

          "I understand," James whispered as he hung his head in disappointment. With a final lingering glance at Sirius, the boy walked off.

          Once James finally disappeared around the corner, Sirius finally looked up and asked, "Did I do the right thing?"

          "I think you handled it perfectly, Siri,” Turais replied gently. “I’m proud of you."

          "Really?" 

          Turais nodded as Regulus huffed out incredulously.

          "I agree with Reggie’s concerns though. Make sure he has learnt his lesson before you forgive him," Turais warned. “Also, forgive, but don’t forget.”

          “Yeah, never forget,” Regulus said darkly. “Poisonous toadstools never change their spots. He is bound to make the same mistake again.”

          “Have some optimism, Reggie,” Turais said warily and Regulus shrugged.

 

***

     

          January and February quickly faded into March. During that time, James and Sirius slowly settled back into a familiar routine. Despite the appearance of a return to normalcy, Turais sensed there was a fundamental shift in their dynamics. 

          Rather than being the undisputed leader of his peer groups, James was now reduced in both reputation and influence. Conversely, Sirius had gained in areas where James had lost, unwittingly becoming the centre around which his yearmates gravitated. However, Sirius didn’t seem to notice the shift. Or at least, he didn’t let it alter his behaviour, for which Turais was immensely proud of and grateful for.

            In Quidditch news, with another great Snitch catch from Regulus, the Slytherin team scored a second victory and sat atop the score table. They were guaranteed a spot in the finals before even playing their third regular match - a first in more than a decade.

          "And I just - swooped in and caught it!" Regulus said excitedly as the Black brothers exited the changing room after the victorious match.

          "Yeah, Eldritch did not even have time to react to your catch," Turais grinned as he adjusted his grip on Regulus’s broom. "However, you will be facing off with Catherine Shafiq in the next match, and she is the most formidable opponent of the three Seekers. Take care not to let your successes go to your head."

          "I won’t," Regulus said earnestly. Turais patted Regulus’s hair fondly when he noticed Catherine was pacing back and forth as if she was waiting for someone. 

          Turais paused in his step. He had not conversed with the Ravenclaw since their public row last year. After the tumultuous summer, Catherine seemed to take an immense effort to avoid him, and Turais did not have the courage within him to address the awkwardness that lingered between them.

          "What’s the matter?" Regulus wondered.

          Turais gave his brother a quick smile and said, "Nothing. I thought I forgot something."

          "You can always buy a Remembrall," Regulus suggested with a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

          "I’m not buying a Remembrall just for you to ‘borrow’ it," Turais muttered distractedly. Considering his potential courses of action, he decided that he would walk by her with a slight nod of acknowledgement. Despite his gut instincts, Catherine might not be waiting for him, after all. “Come on, let’s head back.”

          However, the moment Catherine saw Turais approaching, she stopped her motion and pressed her lips in a tense smile. Turais turned his head around and confirmed that there was no one behind him. 

          "Hello," Turais greeted cautiously.

          "Oh, hello," Catherine breathed with her eyes trained solely on Turais. "Great match. Your team trained well."

          "Thank you," Turais muttered as he scratched his neck. Then, he placed an arm around Regulus and said, "It is my brother who deserves the praise." 

          Catherine’s eyes flitted to the younger boy as if she just realized his presence. 

          "Oh, of course," she said. "Excellent seeking. I look forward to our match."

          Regulus nodded curtly. "Thank you."

          Then, there was an awkward pause as Catherine and Turais eyed each other wordlessly. Finally, Catherine cleared her throat and said, "I… I know this apology is several months late, but I would like to say sorry for what happened the last time we spoke."

          Turais released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Swallowing heavily, he said airily, "It was unfair of me as well. You are not your father. I should not have tied his actions to you regardless of what happened. I let my frustration get the better of me. I’m sorry."

          "No,” Catherine argued. “You were correct to think that something was amiss."

          "I was not entirely correct," Turais admitted. "Yes, your father’s actions were questionable, but he was acting against his own will. The administration of the Dementor’s Kiss, the issuance of the warrant against his Deputy Head Auror… they were not his fault."

          “You couldn’t have predicted that it was the Head of DMLE who assaulted the Head Auror. No one could. I, on the other hand, was too afraid to admit it then, and I have finally mustered the courage to do so now."

          Turais wanted to object because he still had his reservations regarding that statement, but he decided this was not a good time to raise the topic. Instead, he smiled and said, “Let us stop apologizing to each other and move past it, shall we?”

          Catherine met Turais’s gaze and eased into a tiny grin, which he returned with a small smile of his own.

          "Thank you," Catherine whispered.

          "No problem," Turais replied.         

          “Can I treat you to a butterbeer next Hogsmeade weekend as an apology?” Catherine asked sincerely. “And also to make good on our promise from last time when we didn’t have enough time for that drink."

          There was a small part of him that wished he could say yes to the offer, but he decided that placing some distance between them was the correct thing to do. With a tiny shake of his head, Turais said, “It’s alright, Catherine, but I appreciate the offer. Truly.”

          "Oh… Maybe next time then,” Catherine nodded understandingly. Adopting a serious expression, she said, “But I still owe you a drink for all the trouble.”

          "Alright," Turais chuckled, and the answer seemed to placate her. 

          "Then, I guess I will see you around," Catherine said. With a final nod, she turned around and walked away. Turais’s grin widened as a sense of relief and elation washed over him. There was a quick jab at his waist and Turais jolted. 

           Looking down, he saw Regulus with narrowed eyes and arms crossed. Confused at his brother’s antics, Turais immediately turned back to where Catherine headed. However, she had already disappeared into the throng of the crowd once again. Then, he received a second, harder poke.

          "What is it?” Turais asked as he rubbed the spot gingerly.

          “I’ll take my broom back,” Regulus muttered as he took the broom from Turais’s slacked hand. "You’re not subtle."

          Turais looked at his brother and saw the knowing glint in his eyes.

          "It’s nothing," Turais replied hastily. 

          “It will be nothing after she graduates this year,” Regulus snarked.

          Turais felt a small pang of disappointment as he muttered under his breath, “Exactly. Nothing will come of it.”

          He huffed out a wistful sigh before swinging his arm around Regulus. With a bright voice, he said, “Let’s head back and celebrate, Reggie!"

          Regulus gave Turais a strange look, but he allowed himself to be led away without further comment.

 

***

 

          Later that night and miles away from Hogwarts, a fog had settled over the slumbering city of London like a heavy shroud from the heavens. In the marvellous hues of twilight, a stocky, bearded man travelled down a set of cobblestone streets. With a quick glance at his watch, he quickened his step and turned into a narrow alleyway.

          Scanning his surroundings, he immediately focused on the glow of swirling air at the base of the nearest street lamp. Just beyond the reach of the light, he noticed a tall and slim silhouette leaning against the wall, silently observing him.

          The man approached the figure and whispered, "Charlus Potter is getting too close to the truth, just as I feared."

          "A consequence of your past incompetencies."

          "It is all because of that meddling child - Turais Black," the shorter man spat the name with vitriol. "Thrice, he has thwarted my plans. I will make him pay for his insolence."

          "He is not your concern. Potter is."

          "What do you suggest we do?"

          "Potter has grown wary, and his newfound prominence in the public eye has made it too difficult to eliminate him outright. However, we can still remove him from power..." The second man held out a scroll and continued, "This is your last opportunity. Do not fail again."

 

Notes:

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-03-26

Chapter 66: A Dear Friend

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

- ravenclawblues 2022-04-16

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway.

 

***

 


CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

A DEAR FRIEND


 

February 23, 1973 (Friday)

 

POISONING CASE IN FINAL STRETCH

by Andy Smudgley

Defendants Poised to Appeal Decision

 

For two years, Antonin Dolohov, Cyrus Montague, and Brutus Nott have fought against the justice system to delay the repercussions of their attempted murder of Turais Black. Despite the efforts of Lord Arcturus Black, grandfather of the victim and Chief of the Grand Jury Court, the prosecution has, until recently, been unable to push past the various bureaucratic hurdles offered by the defence. However, it seems that the defence counsel has exhausted their options as the Wizengamot is set to announce its verdict next week.

This will not spell the end of the chapter since the families have already signalled that they will file for an appeal in the event of an unfavourable decision…

 

***

 

          The Ravenclaws defeated the Gryffindors in their second regular match and also secured their second victory. As a result, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin teams, with two victories apiece, were set to face off at the finals before the regular Slytherin-Ravenclaw match was played. (The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had one match left to play with zero victories, thus ensuring that neither team could qualify for the finals.)

          Therefore, while the outcome of the upcoming Slytherin-Ravenclaw match had no substantial repercussions, the Slytherin team trained as if it was for the final match itself.

          Turais was supervising the Chasers as they aimed Quaffles at the three hoops. Meanwhile, the Keeper, Vanity, attempted to block every shot.

          After Vanity dove and blocked Pyrites’s shot at the leftmost hoop, Harper flew off from his starting position to the right. Anticipating Harper’s attempt, Vanity positioned himself to intercept and caught the Quaffle smoothly.

          Turais blew the whistle and Vanity immediately slumped against the goalpost, looking completely spent. 

          "Everyone take a five-minute rest," Turais announced. Flying up to the Keeper, he reminded, "Keep yourself at the edge of the goal box to cut off the scoring angle. Harper had a clear shot at the middle hoop. If he went for it, you wouldn’t have been able to react in time."

          "I’ll remember that for next time," Vanity nodded as he tried to catch his breath.

          "But good work." 

          Turais gave Vanity a pat on the shoulder and headed to the pitch ground. Michael touched down next to him and asked, "How’s Vanity?"

          "He’s doing a decent job goaltending. However, I have a suspicion that he neglected his stamina exercises."

          "N.E.W.T.’s are in two months. We have all been spending an obscene amount of time at the library, I myself included."

          "I know it cannot be helped. That’s why I have not mentioned my observations to him…" A thought came to his mind and Turais snapped his fingers. "Right… I was wondering if you’d mind if I asked Geoffrey Macmillan to bring his Chasers in for a training session. I noticed that Vanity seemed to be anticipating shots made by our Chasers, which defeats the purpose of these drills."

          "Would he agree to it?"

          "I haven’t asked. I wanted to run the idea by you first."

          "I suppose I can also ask Kaiden to see if the Gryffindors are interested in helping…" Michael muttered thoughtfully.

          "I’m surprised that you haven’t considered this before," said Turais.

          "It’s not that the idea hadn’t occurred to me, but it has never been done before," Michael said. “No rival House teams have helped each other train.”

          "There’s a first for everything, I suppose," Turais laughed. "Also, it’s not every year that you have two teams confirmed to face off in the final match playing against each other for the third regular match." Turais placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. With a proud smile, he said, "I told you Regulus was a great Seeker, didn’t I?"

          Michael rolled his eyes. 

          "He is decent -"

          "Come on, now. Michael, you can do better than this!" Turais protested. "He’s more than decent!"

          "Take it or leave it," Michael snapped half-heartedly. "I maintain the opinion that you are superior to him. Though it is undeniable that talent runs strong in your family."

          "Always such a Herculean task to pry a compliment from your lips," Turais chuckled. "Anyway, I should head back to the drill."

          "Before you go, if you want to inject some variation for Vanity, why not add yourself to the Chaser rotation in the meantime? I know you have mostly been directing them from the sidelines until now, so you would offer a fresh playstyle."

          Turais hesitated.

          "I might be qualified to oversee the Chasers’ training, but that doesn’t mean I’m good enough to play as one."

          "There is no harm in trying. What was it that you said? Ah. There’s a first for everything."

          The suggestion was reasonable enough. Therefore, Turais joined the Chasers in their shooting drills and was pleasantly surprised by how easily he melded with them. He even managed to score several goals against Vanity. The natural synergy was perhaps due to the amount of time Turais spent honing techniques and building rapport with his teammates.

          "Those were some tricky angles, vice," Vanity reflected after training.

          "Difficult shots as well," Pyrites grunted in agreement. "You were almost in line with the goal posts. I would have circled around for a better shot."

          "But it worked," Harper said cheerfully. "And this is precisely what vice wanted Vanity to prepare against."

          As the discussion continued, Turais caught Michael looking at him with a self-satisfied smirk. 

 

***

 

          On the last Sunday before Easter holidays, Turais was walking with Narcissa to the Hog’s Head under his Cloak of Invisibility when he saw Catherine and her friends headed towards the Three Broomsticks. A hint of regret bubbled up within him before he was quickly distracted by a conversation nearby.

          "... giants at Loch Awe?"

          "I was fishing and then I felt a rumble across the lake that scared away all the trout. The ripples grew so large that I thought I was in the middle of the North Sea!"

          "But giants haven’t been seen in these parts for decades -"

          There was a hard tug on his arm as a dull ache flared up. Turais tore his gaze away from the group only to discover that his face was inches away from a lamppost. It was so close that the fabric of his cloak was grazing against the metallic surface.

          "Look at where you are going! You’ll blow our cover!" Narcissa whispered angrily as she gave his arm a sharp prod.

          Turais hissed in pain and quickly shrunk away from her touch.

          "Are you injured?" Narcissa asked sharply.

          "It is a minor duelling injury. Don’t worry about it…"

          Turais ignored Narcissa’s stern frown for the rest of the way. Arriving at the decrepit shop, they waited impatiently for the arrival of a certain red-haired family. A few minutes later, there was a distinct pop as two adults appeared directly in front of the pub. Turais recognized the toddler, William, in Arthur's arms, but he did not recognize the other ginger-haired baby that Molly was holding.

          The moment they pushed through the door, Narcissa darted up to ask, "Where's Andy?"

          "I am here, Cissy," Molly said as she unlinked her arm from Arthur.

          "Yes, this is Andy," Arthur confirmed. "My wife is at home looking after little Charlie."

          "Congratulations, Mr Weasley!" Turais gasped as Narcissa gave a perfunctory smile. Then, recognition entered Turais's mind as he stared at the baby in Andy's arms.

          "Is this Nymphadora?" Turais whispered excitedly. Narcissa immediately stepped forward to pore over the soft, delicate facial features of the slumbering infant.

          "Yes," Andromeda confirmed as she rocked the child in her arms. 

          "But… but why does she look nothing like you or your husband?" hissed Narcissa.

          "Oh, our little Nymphadora is a Metamorphmagus!" Andy said excitedly. "As you can see, she has been spending a lot of time with William."

          "Bill!" The toddler screamed suddenly with his chubby arms high in the air.

          Arthur leaned in beside William's ear and said, "It's not Brw … It is Wuh …"

          "Bill!"

          Narcissa returned her attention to her sister and niece. "That's wonderful, Cissy. But the House of Black has never boasted a Metamorphmagus amongst our ranks…"

          "That’s why Ted and I think the trait is from his side of the family," Andromeda said. "We suspect he has some magical ancestry in his pedigree."

          "I see," Narcissa breathed out thoughtfully.

          The group settled into an odd silence when Arthur gave Turais a pat on the shoulder.

          "I think that is our cue, Turais," said Arthur with a twinkle in his eyes.

          "Indeed."

          Once again, the Black sisters retreated to the far end of the pub as Turais and Arthur played with an energetic William. Turais tickled the toddler on the nose, who squealed in delight. 

          "Hi there. I’m Turais. Do you remember me, William -"

          "Bill! Brrrwww …"

          William blew a wet raspberry before he descended into fits of giggles.

          "He has been obsessed with making silly noises ever since he discovered he could do so recently," Arthur informed as he bounced the excited William on his lap. "I reckon for the sake of convenience, Molly and I should just start calling him Bill instead -"

          "Who are we to deprive him of his preferred name?" Turais chuckled. Eyeing the father-son duo, Turais commented casually, "He is fortunate to grow up with a loving father such as yourself."

          Arthur frowned and Turais instantly realized how his comment might have been interpreted and clarified, "Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. My father is a very caring man. My brothers and I love him dearly."

          Arthur’s knotted brows loosened as he nodded in acquiescence. He mindlessly took the slice of lime that William handed him and said, "In the end, all of us only have our family to rely on."

          Turais looked at his cousins thoughtfully and wondered if he was successful in being the support that Narcissa and Andromeda needed.

          "You care a lot about your family," Arthur said. "I can tell."

          "Of course I do…" Turais mumbled as he took a sip of his Butterbeer. "I'm sure you know about their situation. Unfortunately, arranging these clandestine meetings is all I can do."

          "What you are doing right now makes all the difference in the world."

          "You think so?"

          "I do," Arthur replied firmly.

          After the meeting, Turais and Narcissa travelled back to Tomes and Scrolls. When Turais turned to leave, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. 

          "My parents have already sent an owl to your father, but it is only polite that I deliver the news to you in person," Narcissa said, eyeing him with uncertainty before her expression cleared off. It was the first time Turais could recall Narcissa displaying any form of vulnerability, and he wondered what she was about to reveal.

          "Lucius and I will be engaged at the Malfoy Ball."

          Turais stilled. He was surprised by both the news and the fact that Narcissa offered the information so directly. She could have avoided this conversation entirely and let Orion notify him. It would have been a breach in decorum, but given the antagonistic relationship between the two scions of the family, it would not be unexpected.

          Keeping his tone diplomatic, Turais asked, "How do you feel about your upcoming marriage?"

         "Are you suggesting that I will not be happy with Lucius?" Narcissa shot back as she crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. "He is an upstanding and proper pureblood gentleman. His family is wealthy. This union will usher in a new era between our two great Houses, and -" 

          "Please forgive my interruption, Narcissa. But I am not talking about the material or social benefits that your union would offer our family. That is the last thing I am concerned about. In marriage, only one thing should matter…"

          Narcissa gave Turais a penetrating look as she pressed her lips into a dangerously thin line. Just as Turais feared that he had pushed too far, she said, "Lucius and I truly love one another."

          Turais felt a great sense of relief, both at the answer and at Narcissa’s reaction. Meeting her questioning gaze, he explained, "I do not have any regard for Malfoy and his politics. But if he truly loves you, then I respect him for that. Congratulations, cousin."

          Narcissa eyed Turais and his outstretched hand for a long moment before shaking it briefly.

          "Can I extract a promise from you to try and be cordial with Lucius?"

          "You have my word."

          The next day when Turais returned to his dormitory after his classes, he discovered a bottle of Murtlap Essence on his bedside table with an unsigned note placed beside it.

Take care.

          Thinking back to his conversation with Arthur about family, Turais picked up the bottle and smiled.

 

***

 

          "Martus has sent us an invitation to visit him in Greece this summer," Orion commented over breakfast one day during their Easter holidays at Grimmauld Place. 

          Martus Weaver, one of Orion’s closest friends, worked as a Curse-Breaker at the Gringotts branch in Italy. Turais last saw him at the Quidditch World Cup three years ago.

          "I thought he worked in Rome. Did he move?" asked Turais.

          "Last month. Gringotts wanted to expand its Curse-breaking operation in Athens and he was chosen to head the project," Orion replied. "He always wanted to move closer to Gresham, who is working at Parádeisos -"

          There was a loud clang as Sirius dropped his fork onto his plate with a gasp. "Can we go to Parádeisos? Pleeease! Sturgis Podmore, the sixth-year Gryffindor prefect, went last summer and showed us pictures of his trip! He said the wildlife was absolutely stunning!"

          Parádeisos was a world-renowned sanctuary located on the Planctae archipelago off the Greek coast in the Ionian Sea and boasted a high density of magical fauna living in pristine wilderness. The islands were also situated in the eye of a perpetual, violent storm that was sustained by the strong intensity of magic radiating from creatures, effectively warding off the local Muggles.

          "No, Sirius. This is a trip to visit Martus -" 

          "Father, one simply does not go to Greece without visiting Parádeisos," Sirius said definitively. Nudging Regulus on the shoulder, he said, "Reggie, tell Father what I said is true!"

          Regulus glanced at Orion’s tensing expression and scooped more scrambled eggs into his mouth. 

          "Alex?" 

          Alex dipped his head in a clear aversion to the question. Desperate, Sirius turned to his older brother and asked, "Turais? You’re on my side, right?"

          Frankly, the safari cruise was something that Turais had always wanted to do. He said hesitantly, "It would be nice to visit -"

          "See, Father! Even Turais says so!" Sirius argued.

          "I have spoken, Sirius," Orion replied sternly. "We are not going to Parádeisos. How about we do something in Athens instead -"

          "But why?"

          "There is no ‘why,’ Sirius."

          "But seeing broken pieces of rock and marble is not fun . It’s been ages since we’ve done anything fun," Sirius whined as he pushed his plate of food away frustratedly. "It’s alway balls, Ministry functions, weddings, and more balls. Maybe the occasional Quidditch match sprinkled in there somewhere, but…"

          Orion’s expression turned stormy, but Sirius did not seem to take notice.

          "Siri," Turais hissed in warning.

          "What? All of us want to go to Parádeisos, only Father is a bore -"

          Sirius stopped abruptly as horror dawned on his face. However, it was too late as Orion roared, "Go back to your room. Now! "

          Sirius winced as he stood up from his seat and left with his head hanging shamefully.

          The rest of breakfast passed by in a stilted, tension-filled silence. Once they finished their food, the boys left the kitchen and Regulus immediately stormed up the staircase and entered Sirius’s room with a bang.

          "What are you doing, Reggie?" Turais asked as he followed closely behind, not noticing that Alex had already quietly returned to his room.

          Without responding, Regulus headed directly for the desk and started to shuffle through the pile of messily-stacked parchments. Then, he turned his attention to the bookshelf and pulled out books seemingly at random. Unable to find what he wanted, Regulus walked up to the human-shaped lump on the bed and gave it a hard slap.

          "Ouch!" Sirius shouted. He emerging from beneath the duvet with a scowl on his face and growled, "Can’t you see I’m trying to sulk -"

          "Brochures," Regulus interrupted. "Where are they?"

          "What brochures?"

          Regulus rolled his eyes and said, "Parádeisos. What else?"

          "It’s here," Sirius grumbled as he reached under his bed and swept several folded brochures into view. Regulus immediately gathered the ones he needed and started to walk out of the room when Sirius called out to stop him. "There’s a magazine on it as well, the summer edition of Wanderlust from last year. It’s on that table - the one with the Hippocampus on the cover - yes, that one."

          With all the materials in his arms, Regulus left without a word.

          "What do you even need them for?" Sirius shouted after him. Sirius then turned to look at Turais questioningly, but the older boy could only give a confused shrug in response.

          Walking over to Regulus’s room, Turais saw the boy poring over the various pamphlets as he jotted notes on a spare parchment.

          "What are you doing?" Turais asked as Regulus opened one of the brochures. A paper model of a Manticore sprang from the pages and started to pace around the desk. Noctus, perched on the window sill, took a closer look only to receive a warning snarl. The owl flapped its wings indignantly and flew off with an angry hoot.

          "I am making a list of arguments to persuade Father," Regulus muttered. "I am not about to let our dear brother ruin a potential visit to Parádeisos by running his mouth."

          "You’re planning to talk to Father about this?" Turais asked in surprise. He never expected Regulus to be so forthright about anything.

          "No, you’re going to talk to him," Regulus amended. "I don’t want to get yelled at."

          Turais narrowed his eyes at the roguish grin that was forming on his brother’s face.

          "You devious little brat."

          Regulus merely flashed him a big, innocent smile in return. Turais huffed before nudging Regulus to give him space to sit.

          "Move over and let me help."

 

***

 

          Armed with the magazines, the arguments, and the knowledge in his mind, Turais knocked on Orion’s door.

          "Come in."

          Turais entered the room and saw his father reading a novella while enjoying a cup of tea. Outwardly, it seemed that his father was in a good mood. However, Turais knew he must still be cross at Sirius for his brash comments.

          Turais sat down next to his father and said cautiously, "Please don’t be angry at Sirius. He knows he was out of line, and I am sure he has learnt his lesson."

          Orion considered Turais for a moment before he sighed, "If I stayed angry for every instance Sirius talked back at me, I would have found myself confined in the Janus Thickey Ward years ago. No, I’m not angry at him."

          "That’s good…" Turais muttered in slight relief. "Then, I have something else I would like to discuss. Regulus and I… we would both like to go to Parádeisos as well." Orion’s gaze hardened at the mention of the place, but Turais pressed on, "We haven’t travelled overseas together as a family since our trip to Canada three years ago. This will be an excellent opportunity to create more memories. You love family portraits, Father. Surely, having one with an Abraxan herd or a dragon would be an amazing addition to the album."

          Eyeing Orion’s unmoving expression, Turais hastily whipped out the magazine and introduced, "Have you seen this, Father? There are over a hundred different kinds of creatures in the sanctuary, and many of them can only be found there. I am sure it will be very educational and an eye-opening experience -"

          "Turais, that’s enough," Orion interrupted and Turais quickly changed tactics.

          "We are all willing to forgo our birthday presents this year in exchange for the holiday." 

          Orion closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before giving a singular, "No."

          "Or perhaps, I can guarantee that we will achieve E’s for all our exams."

          "No."

          "Is there anything we can do to convince you, Father?" Turais pleaded with a hint of desperation.

          At Orion’s lack of response, Turais ventured another guess. "Is it something that you are worried about in particular? The crowds? Conflicting plans? -"

          "Listen, Turais," Orion finally said. "It is none of those reasons. I merely think that a safari cruise is not the most… manageable holiday item for us…"

          Something clicked in Turais’s mind and he set the parchment aside.

          "Are you worried about our safety?" Turais asked slowly, and the slight quiver in Orion’s eyes provided the answer. "Most of the dangerous creatures are land-dwelling and have a strong aversion to water. So, as long as we remain on the boat at all times, we are perfectly safe to observe them from a distance."

          "People have died on the cruise before, Turais," Orion gritted out.

          Turais quickly flipped through the magazine and opened it up to the page on safety.

          "There have only been three fatal accidents in the past thirty years, Father, and all of them involved reckless individuals tempting fate," Turais pointed out. "I am sure that we all have more sense than that. Furthermore, they have since introduced wards to prevent anything alive from coming close to the boat as well as leaving it. We also have personal emergency Portkeys that can teleport us back to base camp in case of danger. We will not be harmed."

          Orion flitted between Turais’s expectant face and the opened magazine. After several long moments of silence, he sighed and finally said, "I still have my reservations, but I promise to consider it well…"

          "Thank you, Father," Turais breathed out excitedly.

          "It’s not a yes -"

          "I know, I know. I will leave you with the magazine then," Turais said quickly. "Make sure to flip to the next page. The Abraxan foals are absolutely adorable."

          Before Turais left the room, he turned around and added quickly, "If you have any questions, you can always ask Reggie or me. We have read everything there is to know about the safari."

          "Alright," Orion said with a hint of amused exasperation. 

          Turais returned to Regulus’s room, feeling significantly more hopeful.

          "So, how did it go?" Sirius asked. "Did Father say yes?"

          "He said he will consider it," Turais said. "Let us all be on our best behaviour from now on, or so help me Merlin."

          "On my wand and magic," Sirius said solemnly and crossed his fingers over his chest. "I will do anything for the holiday."

          "We’ll see how this one goes," Regulus quipped.

          "Just focus on winning some Quidditch," Sirius replied easily. "You hoisting up the Cup in two months’ time will surely do us some good."

          "I’ll do my best."

          "Well, me too. And Turais, you can… keep doing whatever you are doing, I suppose,” Sirius said. “Let’s go to Parádeisos this summer!”

          The three brothers shared a determined nod.

          "Also, Sirius, please leave the talking to Turais and me," Regulus added. "I’m worried that you will spoil our chances." At Sirius’s scowl, he warned, "You promised you would do anything."

          "Fine," Sirius huffed.

 

***

 

          The end of the Easter holidays heralded the largest social event in Wizarding Britain - the annual Malfoy Ball. Unlike past years, Alex was not invited to the Ball - a clear snub by the new Lord Malfoy.

          "I don’t enjoy myself there," Alex mentioned once. "It’s a blessing in disguise, truly."  

          Therefore, Turais and Orion travelled alone to Malfoy Manor. When Turais emerged from the flames into the Floo antechamber of the Manor, he thought he had accidentally transported himself across the globe and stumbled into a lush jungle. Rather than flashy decoration, the chamber walls were lined with palm leaves and orchids that boasted an earthy and verdant aesthetic.

          Venturing into the main corridor that led to the ballroom, Turais discovered a meandering path made of bromeliads, heliconias, and gingers. Overhead, campanulas streamed down from chandeliers that were draped with maidenhair ferns and vines.

          Turais and Orion walked through a floral arch and entered the ballroom that had been transformed into an enchanted botanical garden. In contrast to the vibrant and lively display outside, the grand ballroom was meticulously curated to exude an air of regality and elegance.

          In the background, symmetrical mounds of woolly moss formed the base of shrubs studded with white roses, peonies, and bouvardias. In the foreground was a beautiful, square-shaped reflection pool with lily pads drifting gently at the corners. The space doubled as the dance floor with couples waltzing harmoniously in the water that was charmed to keep their dress robes dry. 

          "Lord Malfoy has outdone himself," Orion complimented, and Turais was in complete agreement. 

          It was a breathtaking view and a grandiose backdrop for a surprise engagement announcement that befitted a man of Malfoy’s status. However, it seemed as though he also wanted to use the opportunity to showcase the triumphant return of the Malfoy family to the social scene and signal a departure from his father’s more conservative tendencies.

          After engaging in a reasonable amount of small talk with the hosts noticeably missing, Turais slinked away to enjoy some relative peace from the stifling crowd. He strolled to a quiet section of the Manor, looking out over the gardens planted with magnificent traveller’s palms and ponds filled with pink flamingos. It was then that he came across a tiny creature thumping his head against the stone wall loudly.

          "What are you doing?” Turais asked as he rushed forward. The house-elf sniffed as he turned around. 

          "Dobby?" gasped Turais.

          Dobby’s eyes widened as he turned around to perform a long, deep bow. In a high-pitched voice, he said earnestly, "Sir knows of Dobby?"

          "I… I… yes!" Turais laughed as he valiantly fought the urge to wrap his arms around the tiny creature. Then, he repeated the words with unbridled joy, "Dobby! You’re Dobby!"

          "Sir is correct, but Dobby mustn’t speak with guests," the house-elf muttered. "Dobby will have to punish himself most terribly."

          Turais winced at the thought of Dobby’s creative and destructive ways of injuring himself, so despite his great reluctance, he said grimly, "Then I will leave you, Dobby. Try not to injure yourself too much. You should not have to suffer… especially not for Malfoy -”

          A sudden rustle and a light giggle emerged from the nearby bushes. Turais whipped his wand out just as a figure in a fluttering blue dress leapt into view followed by a man with platinum-blonde hair. 

          “Cousin Turais," Narcissa managed to say with a tone of measured surprise as her eyes darted nervously between him and her fiancé. “I… I did not expect you to stray so far from the ballroom."

          “I could say the same to you, Narcissa," Turais said as he relaxed his arm but kept his wand in his hand. Narrowing his eyes at Malfoy, who stared back with equal intensity, Turais gritted out, “Malfoy.”

          “If it isn’t the famous Turais Black kneeling in front of a house-elf like a vagrant on the scrounge,” Malfoy returned with his face twisted into a contemptuous sneer. "How shameful, yet typical."

          In a sudden swirl of robes, Malfoy whipped his cane downwards on the house-elf. Dobby wailed and raised his bony arms in fear. However, the strike never came as Turais stilled the cane an inch above Dobby’s head. 

          "How dare you stop me from disciplining my own servant?" Malfoy snarled as he tried to tug the cane from Turais’s unyielding grip.

          "I am merely sparing you from acting unseemly in front of your distinguished guests," Turais said easily as he tilted his head towards the party guests nearby. "You are the esteemed Lord Malfoy. And unlike me, you have a reputation to uphold."

          Malfoy bared his teeth viciously and gave the cane a hard yank. Turais released it and the man stumbled backwards.

          "You!" Malfoy hissed. 

          However, Narcissa immediately rested a hand on Malfoy’s chest and whispered, “Today is a day of celebrations, Lucius. We ought not let anything ruin the evening.” 

          Malfoy flashed Turais a dangerous glare before patting Narcissa’s hand comfortingly. With a tight smile, he said softly, “Of course, my dear.” He looked at Dobby and hissed, "Go back to the kitchen. I will deal with you later."

          "Y…Yes, Master Malfoy," Dobby whimpered. He gave Turais a lingering glance before plodding away into the shadows.

           “Very well,” Turais said coolly. “If there is nothing else, I will continue my stroll around the Manor grounds -”

           “I was wondering if I can speak with you privately for a quick moment?” Narcissa interrupted. “Lucius, if you wouldn’t mind waiting for me?”

           “Anything for you, dear. I’ll be around the corner,” Malfoy said. He pressed a kiss on Narcissa’s cheek before strolling off.

          “What is it, cousin?” Turais asked once Malfoy was out of earshot.

          “I’ve brought some items for Nymphadora,” Narcissa said in a hushed whisper. “I’ve hid them in a small purse with an Extension Charm under table seventeen. Can you retrieve it and send it to Andy?” She then rummaged through her clutch bag and pulled out an envelope. “And this letter as well.”

          "Of course,” Turais agreed readily. 

          “Thank you,” Narcissa said sincerely as Turais stored the letter inside his robe pocket. “Are we still confirmed for the next Hogsmeade Weekend?”

          "Yes,” Turais said.

          "Excellent,” Narcissa breathed. “And… I apologize for Lucius’s behaviour. His words… they were out of line.”

          "He, not you, should be the one to apologize,” Turais pointed out as Narcissa tensed. "But I am not offended. Please rest easy.”   

          "Thank you, cousin,” she said gratefully. “I must leave you now. I will see you at school.”

          With that, Narcissa turned and left. Turais watched as she linked arms with Malfoy in the distance, who gave him a final, piercing glare before they walked out of view. Just as Turais was about to head back inside to retrieve the package, there was a tiny tug on his trouser leg. Looking down, he saw Dobby staring up with his large eyes.

          "Dobby?" Turais hissed in surprise. “I thought Malfoy ordered you to leave.”

          "But Master did not specify when Dobby must return to the kitchen," Dobby said proudly with a wide toothy grin. Then, Turais noticed the shimmering, sequin bag in his outstretched arm.

          “What is this?”

          "This is the handbag Miss Narcissa spoke of, sir. Dobby retrieved it from under table seventeen.”

          "I… Thank you, Dobby…” Turais took the proffered item gratefully as Dobby’s large, bat-like ears straightened in happiness. "Dobby, you are too kind. You didn't even know me before today.”

          "Mister Turais Black… Dobby has often heard of your greatness and your goodness from my Master, sir… Dobby has never met a wizard who is willing to crouch down and speak to house-elves…”

          "You just haven’t had the chance to meet the good kind of witches and wizards,” Turais said hastily. “There are a lot of us with basic human decency, but they are hard to come by at Malfoy Manor.”

          Suddenly, Dobby’s comment from before came into the foreground of Turais’s mind.

          "You should stop talking to me and leave,” Turais gasped. Eyeing the rapidly drooping ears, he quickly clarified, "I enjoy your company, Dobby, but I don’t want you to punish yourself any more than necessary." 

          Dobby flashed another brilliant smile and said, "Dobby can stand here and listen. Listen, and not speak."

          Turais supposed that was an option. For the next little while, Turais and Dobby found a secluded part of the garden surrounded by tall hedges. Sitting on the wood chip path under the silvery glow of the moon, Turais told Dobby stories about everything in the world outside of the Manor. He talked all about Hogwarts, his family, and Kreacher. However, he was careful to not disclose anything that was of significance in fear that Dobby might be forced to reveal their conversation to Malfoy.

          Finally, it came time for Turais to part ways with the house elf. Reluctantly, he said his goodbyes and promised to return the following year. Turais rejoined Orion with the image of Dobby’s tearful eyes seared into his mind. 

          "Did something happen today?" Orion commented curiously as they waited for their return Portkeys to activate.

          "Yes. Something unexpected, but welcomed."

          "What is that?"

          Curling his lips into a small, fond smile, Turais breathed, "I met an old friend." 

 

***

 

          After returning home, Turais first made a stop by Alex’s room. The door was left slightly ajar and Turais knocked on the doorframe.

          "Alex, I’m coming in." 

          Entering the room, Turais found his friend curled up in the reading alcove. The nook had been in a persistent, grizzled grey for the entire holiday, growing progressively darker as the days went by. However, Turais had never seen it in this oppressive and suffocating blanket of darkness. The reading light overhead was also flickering on and off with bursts of sparks erupting sporadically. 

          "Alex?" Turais called out gently before sitting down as the light stopped flickering. "What is the matter?"

          "Nothing…" Alex muttered. "How was the Malfoy Ball?"

          "It was fine. Cousin Narcissa and Malfoy announced their engagement."

          "Congratulations."

          "Enough about that," Turais said sternly and held up a jet-black cushion. "There is clearly something on your mind. What is it?"

          Alex snatched the cushion from Turais’s hand before mumbling weakly, "It’s nothing…"

          "I’m your best friend. Please tell me," Turais said softly. "You promised, remember?"

          Alex’s shoulders slumped as he said, "It’s… it’s just that… the Aurors have yet to find my father, and the statutory search period is due to end this July. I have been talking to Professor Mather since he is an expert on magical signatures and a consultant on the case… and he told me to not hold out too much hope…"

          "Oh." 

          "I will officially be… orphaned then. And I will need to go to foster care…" 

          "Don’t worry about this," Turais said immediately. "I’m sure you can stay here, unless you object to it -"

          "Of course not!" Alex said immediately. With a flush, he said shyly, "I would love to stay… if your father allows me to."

          "We can ask Father right now," Turais said. He pulled Alex on his feet and pushed him towards the door. "Come on!"

          Descending to the basement, they found Orion enjoying an evening glass of sherry. Kreacher bowed at the sight of the two boys before turning his attention back to the stack of silverware that he was polishing.

          "Father," Turais greeted as he pulled out a chair across from Orion and sat down. Looking at the moving black-and-white image of Harold Minchum giving a speech in front of a large crowd on the front page, Turais cleared his throat and said, "Father, Alex and I have something we wish to discuss with you."

          Orion peered at the two teenagers intriguingly over the papers and said, "It is getting late. What is this matter that cannot wait until morning?"

          "It's about Alex," Turais said carefully. "And his living arrangements in the near future…"

          Orion tensed up as his jaw muscle twisted slightly. Keeping his gaze steady on Turais, he set the evening paper down onto the table and called out, "Kreacher, please leave us. Make sure Sirius and Regulus do not enter the kitchen."

          "Yes, Master Orion," Kreacher bowed and Disapparated with a pop.

          Once the house-elf disappeared, Orion said, "Have a seat, Alex." 

          Turais turned around. It was only then that he discovered Alex had remained standing for the entire time. The grey-haired boy eyed the two Blacks nervously before he sat down down next to Turais.

          "I have a simple question for you," Orion said as Alex clenched his fidgeting fingers together under the table. "Are you willing to remain at this residency -"

          Turais breathed out a sigh of relief. Beside him, Alex nodded fervently and said quickly, "Of course, Mr Black. I wouldn’t mind at all. I am also willing to pay for any expenses that have incurred during my stay once I gain my inheritance -"

          "Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Alex, but that won’t be necessary. Also, I was not finished with my question," Orion said solemnly. An anxious look flitted across Alex’s face as Orion continued, "While I am willing to host you, you will not be adopted into the family. I do not want you to harbour any illusions on the matter. Do you understand?"

           Judging by Orion’s grave expression and hardened gaze, he was not allowing any compromise. Alex paused momentarily before he dipped his head and nodded. With a small voice, he whispered, "I… I understand, Mr Black. The kindness you have shown me over the years… it would be impertinent of me to demand anything more."

          "It is settled then," Orion said and opened the newspaper once more.

          Alex stood up and bowed respectfully, "I… thank you, Mr Black."

          Something about his father’s reaction did not make sense to Turais. Turning to Alex, he said lightly, "Alex, why don’t you head up first?"

          Alex gave Turais a small smile that looked more like a grimace before he walked up the stairs. Once Turais heard the door close, he asked sharply, "Father, why did you make that comment about adoption?" 

          Orion frowned at Turais’s accusation. With a hardened tone, he said, "The matter of adoption is of grave consequence. It is in the best interest of all parties to speak plainly instead of toying with hypotheticals."

          "But surely, Father, you must understand that he has no one left in this world. We are his fami-"

          Orion suddenly reached across the table and seized Turais by the shoulders. Turais caught a flash of anger and, oddly, fear in his father’s eyes, and at his own surprise, Orion rasped dangerously, "Never use that word with him. He is not family. And he never will be."

          Turais was taken aback by the intensity of the words. Orion shook the shocked boy and asked roughly, "Did you hear what I said?" 

          "But why?" Turais demanded. "Why can’t Alex be family?"

          "Why does he need to be?" Orion returned sharply. "For as long as he has lived under our roof, I have treated him fairly. I allowed him to travel with us to the Quidditch World Cup and offered him a seat in our Box. He will also be coming along with us to Parádeisos - and yes, I am allowing the trip. In the face of all this, does it still matter that he is considered family?"

          Turais thought back to all the years Alex had spent with them. As Orion had mentioned, he had gone above and beyond what was reasonably expected of a father to do when caring for his son’s school friend.

          "Then… Then why does it matter that he isn’t?"

          "Everything I have said and done in my life is to protect our family and to protect you, Turais," Orion hissed. "Some stones are best left unturned, and you… you will not bring this up again!"

           Something didn’t quite add up, but Turais could not find any reason to press the subject further. He returned to Alex’s room to find the furniture in a lighter shade of grey that also incorporated a hue of navy blue. However, he stopped just outside of the reading nook since it did not feel right to intrude into Alex’s private space after what Orion had said.

          Picking at a piece of lint on his sleeve, Turais muttered, "I… I apologize for my father’s reaction. His comment on adoption… it was unwarranted."

          There was a long pause before Alex said softly, "I admit that I humoured myself with the possibility of being adopted, but I… I cannot possibly fault your father for his refusal."

          Slowly, Turais lifted his head as Alex continued, "Year after year, he has allowed me to stay without asking for anything in return." The boy took in a shaky breath and looked around the room. "All of this would not have happened without his implicit approval. Even if he demanded my immediate eviction from the house, I still feel nothing but gratitude…"

          "Alex…"

          "I mean it, Turais," Alex said firmly. "I know I’ve never expressed this in words, but I cannot overstate how much your family has done for me… I just cannot… I cannot imagine growing up beyond these walls and I -"

          Alex choked up and he wiped the tears from his eyes.

          "I understand," Turais muttered as Alex took a shuddering breath. "I am so glad this is a place where you can call your home. And no matter what my father says, you are like a brother to me. That won’t change even if it’s not declared on some document."

          Alex gave Turais a small grin before his face morphed into a worried expression.

          "Please don’t have a fight with your father over this," Alex added. "If anything happens because of me, it will weigh heavily on my conscience."

          "We are heading back to Hogwarts tomorrow," Turais tried for a bit of levity. "I doubt we will get a chance to do so before June."

          "I am serious, Turais," Alex said sternly.

          Turais adopted a sombre expression and nodded.

          "Don’t worry about this," Turais reassured. "I promise."

Notes:

Did you enjoy the tiny cameo from Dobby? Also, do we see interesting shifts in Turais’s relationship with Narcissa…?

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-04-16

Chapter 67: Seeking the Chase

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

Just a heads up, work has become quite busy, so my next update will be in June (hopefully the first weekend).

- ravenclawblues 2022-05-07

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

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Beta read by Aeroway.

 

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CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

SEEKING THE CHASE


 

          In the final regular match of the school year, the Ravenclaw Chasers dominated the possession of the Quaffle and the Slytherin players were surprised to find themselves on the defensive throughout most of the match. The match concluded with a fierce battle for the Snitch, which also settled in Ravenclaw’s favour.

          Despite the regrettable result, the finals continued to spur much fervour and fanfare. The entire school was speculating which team would be ultimately crowned the winner. This was accompanied by a not-so-secret betting pool that placed Catherine Shafiq’s odds of catching the Snitch at 9/13 against Regulus’s 3/1. His substantially lower winning odds were a constant source of angst and annoyance for Regulus.

          "I lost it by less than an inch! And I caught the Snitch in the last two matches!" Regulus grumbled as he and Turais walked past two Hufflepuff seventh-years standing behind a makeshift stand in the shadow of a large oak tree. Regulus eyed the large crowd of students trying to place bets and groaned, "I wish my arm were longer…"

          "Hey Reggie!" Sirius shouted as he emerged from the crowd. “I just bet a Galleon and all my Sickles on you.”

          Regulus rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips inched upwards discreetly. That was until he saw the numbers listed on the chalkboard.

          "7/2?!" Regulus shrieked. "It was 3/1 yesterday!"

          "It seems someone bet heavily on Shafiq to win since then," Sirius explained distractedly as he watched the writing being erased. Then, a piece of levitating chalk started to write down the revised numbers. "Oh… it’s 15/4 now… shucks! I should have waited for a bit longer! Let me see if I can ask for an adjustment…"

          Sirius dove back into the crowd of speculating students and the two remaining brothers continued their walk along the castle perimeter.

          "I really should have caught the Snitch… Now everyone thinks I’m rubbish…"

          "You can’t catch every Snitch, Reggie," Turais comforted. "And none of this matters if you choose to not let them affect you."

          "Oh, it will definitely affect me," Regulus said darkly. "I will prove everyone wrong by catching it so quickly that Shafiq doesn't even get a chance to hear it flutter."

          "I don’t think that is quite possible…"

          "Watch me," the younger boy growled.

          "Don’t push yourself too hard," Turais warned. "We don’t want a repeat of last November."

          The burning passion in Regulus’s eyes immediately tapered off before he swallowed heavily.

          "I promise I won’t do anything stupid." Eyeing their brother who was currently elbowing other students and arguing with the Hufflepuff bookie, Regulus muttered, "I’ll leave that to Sirius."

          Soon, Sirius caught up to the duo and they headed back to the Great Hall for supper. Near the end of the hour, the crisp tap of a spoon against glass rang out from the High Table.

          "May I have your attention, please?" Dumbledore said clearly. Once all the muttering subsided, he continued, "Thank you. I will be overseas for the next two weeks on important business. During that time, Hogwarts will be placed under the dutiful supervision of the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Mather."

          The Ancient Runes professor rose from his chair and bowed as the students applauded politely. Once they were dismissed, Jonty, Alex, and Turais started to discuss the unexpected news as they headed to their study session with the Ravenclaws.

          "Where do you think the Headmaster is headed?” Alex asked. "And for two weeks on end?"

          "Probably planning something nefarious," Jonty said darkly. "Either to wipe our families off the face of the earth or to overthrow the Ministry."

          "Don’t be dramatic, Jonty," Turais scolded.

          "Dumbledore has recently been in negotiations with the giant colonies in the South," Jonty hissed. "My father reckons Dumbledore is trying to place them under his influence."

          "But why?" Alex asked.

          "He believes Dumbledore is trying to raise an army."

          "For what though?"

          "Power, of course! The Ministerial election is next year and Jenkins does not look like she will be able to win another term. I think Dumbledore has a mind to make a run. Having the giants on his side would scare people into voting for him." 

          "That sounds far-fetched," Turais argued. "Say what you want about Dumbledore, but he is not interested in gaining political office." 

          Jonty scoffed.

          "That’s impossible. Why would someone as powerful as him not want to rule over the rest of us?"

          "He fought Grindelwald, who wanted exactly that!" 

          "And now there is no one who can rival him."

          "He publicly pledged that he would never seek office."

          "Deceive boys with dice, and men with oaths," Jonty warned. Then, he turned to frown at Turais. "Why are you defending him? You of all people know how duplicitous he is, hiding behind his eccentricity and asinine babbles."

          "Nevermind…" Turais muttered, dropping the conversation.

          They turned into the hallway of the Ravenclaw tower, then paused at the doorway and eyed the empty classroom in confusion.

          "Did I misremember our meeting time? I thought we arranged for a study session today," Turais said as he sat down at his usual spot.

          "Pierricoeur did not mention anything differently," Alex replied, checking Turais’s watch. "And it is eight on a Sunday evening…"

          "Now that I think about it, I don’t recall seeing Pierricoeur at dinner tonight," Turais hummed.

          With the mystery surrounding the three missing Ravenclaws unsolved, they decided to get started on their assignments. Eight o’clock came and went, but the Ravenclaws were still nowhere to be seen.

          "It’s not like him to be late," Turais muttered. A few minutes later, Pierricoeur and Tattersall walked in with grim expressions on their faces.

          "There you are," Turais exclaimed. Checking behind the newcomers, he noticed a person was missing. "Where is Prang?" 

          Pierricoeur pulled back the chair with a loud scraping noise as he said, "He has -"

          "Leon," Tattersall warned.

          "They’ll learn about it soon enough," Pierricoeur sighed. "Prang… he had a terrible accident during training this afternoon. We just came from the Hospital Wing."

          "Is he alright?" Turais said with a worried frown.

           "He is recovering, but he will not participate in the final match…"

          "Oh no… I’m sorry to hear that. We can skip the session tonight and visit him -"

          "That’s not necessary," Pierricoeur said curtly. "Madam Pomfrey administered the Dreamless Sleep as we left."

          "Please send him our well wishes the next time you see him," Turais said earnestly. Pierricoeur responded with a terse nod before he buried his head in textbooks.

          The rest of the study session proceeded as usual, albeit more subdued. Afterwards, when they were heading back to the Slytherin common room, Jonty whispered excitedly, "What a great turn of events for us! How are you planning to capitalize on the opportunity?"

          Knowing that Alves was the likely replacement Keeper, different tactics and strategies had been flitting through Turais’s mind for the past hour. However, the sudden feeling of shame made him push the thoughts out forcefully.

          "Listen, let’s just give this a rest."

          "The match is one week away. If we are going to adjust our strategy, now is the time!"

          "Prang was badly injured," Turais gritted out. "This is not something worth celebrating."

          Jonty looked miffed as they walked the rest of the way in a tense silence. Reaching the secret passageway, Jonty immediately stormed ahead without a backward glance. Alex held Turais back and waited for the passageway to disappear before he spoke.

          "Jonty has a point, you know? We didn’t cause Prang’s injuries. How we feel about the situation does not alter the fact that Prang will miss the final match. So, you might as well do your best to win, which is something you planned to do since the beginning."

          "Of course I understand what you both are saying…" Turais muttered. "But it doesn’t mean I won’t feel… apologetic."

          With a mix of admiration and slight exasperation, Alex said, "You are too kind-hearted, Turais."

          "Alex…"

          "I know, I know… No compliments for you. This does shift things in our favour. We can use any advantage we get." 

          Turais fell into a thoughtful silence.

          "You might want to talk to Jonty before the night ends," Alex added.

          Turais nodded with a sigh, "You’re right. It would be a good idea to clear the air."

 

***

 

          The next day during Quidditch training, Turais was hovering in the centre of the Quidditch pitch as he oversaw the Chasers practising a drill for their newly-revised tactics.

          He lobbed the Quaffle towards Pyrites, who caught it and immediately sped towards the goal post. Two mechanical Chaser dummies - adapted from the dummies found in DADA classes - moved in to intercept and Pyrites quickly threw the scarlet ball to Harper. The third dummy which was guarding Harper lunged forward, blocking his path to the goalpost. Harper was forced to pass the Quaffle back to Pyrites.

          The three dummies surrounded Pyrites as Riley positioned himself directly below. Pyrites released the Quaffle, letting it fall down into Riley's waiting arms. The latter immediately sprung into action as he streaked towards the goalpost.

          Eyeing the Chaser dummies that were descending upon him, Riley lobbed the ball towards Harper hastily. However, his aim was off as the Quaffle flew by well below Harper's position.

          Turais blew the whistle and summoned the Quaffle back into his arms. With a wave of his wand, the dummies moved back to their original locations, hovering idly.

          "Let's try that again!" Turais shouted. "Riley, you need to time the pass better. You waited too long this time."

          "Yes, vice," Riley grunted tiredly as he drifted towards the home end.

          Once everyone was at their starting position, Turais passed the Quaffle to Pyrites again. Everything went according to plan up until Riley's pass to Harper. The moment Riley received the pass, he promptly hurled the Quaffle towards Harper. Turais blew the whistle and signalled an offside offence.

          Turais reset the dummies and waved the Chasers over.

          "What you’re asking for is near impossible!" Riley cried out as he parked his broom next to Turais. "Either I pass early and get caught offside, or I get crowded and miss my window."

          "Yeah, vice," Pyrites gasped as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Can't we let Riley score the point instead of making an additional pass? Sounds like an unnecessary risk to take." 

          Turais crossed his arms and looked at the exhausted Chasers. They had been practising this particular drill for nearly an hour to little success. With a sigh, he said, "Normally, I would agree with you. However, Alves is substituting Prang as the Ravenclaw Keeper. From what I know, Alves trained mostly as a Chaser, and according to personal anecdotes, he’s also quite hot-tempered. I bet he’ll have a tendency to play very aggressively."

          "The Fourth Chaser," Harper added, referring to a Quidditch strategy that featured a Keeper playing as part of the Chaser’s offensive tactics instead of a strictly goaltending role. Turais knew that the Ravenclaws would try to force Alves to stick to their strategy, but if the rumours about Alves’s playstyle were remotely true, they would have a difficult time keeping him in the goal zone.

          "Precisely," Turais said. "Should the Quaffle come near him, he would try and make a play for it."

          Harper added, "And if we manage to draw him out of the goal zone..."

          Pyrites snapped his fingers in realization. "An offside position is when the Chaser is closer to the goalposts than both the Quaffle and the second-last opponent... except when the Keeper is outside of his goal zone. This is brilliant!"

          "Only if I can pull it off! But I can’t do what you are asking of me," Riley complained. "To deliberately draw out the Keeper while three Chasers are hot on my tail..."

          Turais sighed as he gestured for Harper to pass the Quaffle. 

          "I'll show you what I have in mind," Turais said as he handed the ball to Riley. "Riley, you stay here and watch. Pyrites, Harper, go to your positions."

          Turais flew to the home end of the pitch and readied himself. He signalled for Riley to throw in the Quaffle.

          Turais immediately leaned forward on his broom and accelerated. Pyrites caught the Quaffle and eyed Turais's speed. With a well-timed drop, Turais easily caught the ball below the fray and darted towards the goal zone. The Keeper dummy descended to intercept. However, Turais noticed that it stopped and hovered just before the goal zone line.

          Sensing the incoming Chaser dummies from behind, Turais pressed forward as the Keeper dummy moved to head him off. While keeping an eye on Harper's position above him, Turais lured the dummy as he flew along the goal zone line. The moment the dummy drifted across the line, Turais dropped the Quaffle and spun around in a full rotation. There was a clear thud as the tail twigs of his broom connected with the Quaffle, sending the ball soaring high into the air. Harper sailed in to receive the pass and tipped the ball through the metal hoop with ease.

          The whirring of the four dummies stopped as their wooden arms stilled. Turais flew up to the astonished Chaser and said, "Something like that."

          Riley blinked wordlessly for a few seconds before he managed to stutter out a coherent phrase.

          "I... I don't think I can manage that manoeuvre."

          In the distance, Turais saw Michael and Regulus descending onto the ground. Checking his watch, he saw that they only had a few minutes left before their booking was over. He clapped his hands together and announced, "Let’s attempt this once more tomorrow. If it doesn’t work, we won’t waste any more time on it."

 

***

 

          In the blink of an eye, the day of the final match arrived. Leading the team as its captain for the final time, Michael exuded an extraordinary sense of calmness that Turais had not anticipated.

          Turais watched as the captain paced around the changing room, glancing at the faded banners and lifting the wrinkled corners of old posters before stopping in front of a framed photograph. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Turais walked up next to Michael and examined the moving image of all four Quidditch captains standing on the pitch with their broomsticks proudly by their sides.

          The date, September 1971, was written in the bottom left corner.

          "Even though it was less than two years ago, it feels like a lifetime has passed," Michael breathed out. He pointed out the grimace worn by his younger self. Then, he ran the pad of his thumb over Kaiden’s cheek. "That day, we promised that we would meet on the pitch for our final match, leading our own teams, and play the greatest game the school has ever seen. I was able to keep my promise, but Kaiden…"

          "He is merely participating in a different manner," Turais comforted. "Watching from the stands, cheering you on."

          Michael nodded wistfully. Giving the photograph a final scan, he walked to the centre of the room where the entire team was gathered.

          "New match, new day, new chance. Let’s show the Ravenclaws what we are truly made of!"

          Michael gestured at Turais, who stepped forward and said, "Let’s go out there and bring the Cup home!"

          The players roared in approval. With faces taut and resolute, they stepped onto the pitch to confront their opponents for the second time. Meanwhile, Turais walked along the perimeter of the oval-shaped stadium and waited for the match to begin.

          "Ready to lose again?" Lorenzo hissed as the captains shook hands. Michael responded with a wordless stare before mounting his broom.

          The piercing sound of a whistle from Mister Williams started the match. Despite the thorough preparations from the Slytherin side, it seemed that the Ravenclaws were also at the peak of their performance. Their Chasers managed to gradually build an early lead in a highly dynamic and volatile match.

          "Fly right," Turais gritted out. He watched Riley soar towards the Ravenclaw goalposts while his opponent, Crawley, was fast approaching. Riley seemed determined to out-fly the opposing Chaser, but Turais had yet to witness success in that futile endeavour. “Fly right, Riley, urgh -”

          Crawley placed a clean punch at the ball, causing the Quaffle to fly out of Riley’s arm. He then rushed to retrieve it and transferred the possession to Vidal with a well-coordinated pass. Vidal quickly zipped across the pitch towards the Slytherin goalposts. Flying directly at the right goalpost, Vanity moved to block her attack when Vidal suddenly threw the Quaffle sideways and back into Crawley’s hands.

          "And Ravenclaw scores!” Hawthorne announced the moment Crawley tipped the scarlet ball through the left goalpost. “And they widen their lead to eighty points. Things are not looking too good for the Slytherin team."

          "Turais Black is trying to catch Wilkins’s attention, and Wilkins calls for a time-out. It seems like the Seeker prodigy is determined to make his presence known even from the sidelines.”

          The entire team circled around Turais and he quickly ran down the list, "Riley, you have to force the Quaffle down right to have a chance to get past Crawley. Pyrites, make sure you keep eye contact with the others. You focus too much on the intercept and end up being swarmed by the opposite team. Beaters, focus your fire on Crawley as well. Reggie, keep a tighter mark on Shafiq. She is quick."

          Turais clapped his hands together and said, "Remember the drills we ran. And don’t rush the offensive!"

          He stretched his arm up high and the entire team placed their hands on top of his. Together, they shouted a cheer before returning to the air.

          However, things did not improve significantly after the time-out. The Ravenclaw Chasers continued to show their dominance while the Slytherins struggled to gain the upper hand. Soon, it seemed the only way for the Slytherins to pull off a victory was for Regulus to catch the Snitch before the point difference became insurmountable.  

          Just as Turais wondered if things could get any worse, he heard a loud crack of splintering wood. He looked up to see Riley spiralling uncontrollably towards the stadium wall on what seemed to be half of a broom. 

          "WILLOUGHBY ACCIDENTALLY SMASHED RILEY’S BROOM TO BITS!" Hawthorne shouted as the Chaser crashed into the wall and fell several feet onto the pitch ground. "He seems to have landed on his face. Blimey! Madam Pomfrey and Mister Williams are tending to him now. Oh Merlin, I hope he’s alright."

          Turais rushed over where the rest of the Slytherin team was gathered. They eyed each other anxiously as they awaited Pomfrey’s assessment.

          "Mr Riley has a fractured skull," Pomfrey huffed irritably. "He’ll live, but he will be spending the rest of term in the Hospital Wing. Quidditch!"

          "Thank you," Michael breathed in relief. After watching Riley transported off the pitch on a stretcher, he engaged in a hushed conversation with the referee before announcing to the group, "Mister Williams told us that the match will continue."

          "Who do you want to send in as a substitute?" Turais asked immediately as he mentally went down a list of potential candidates. "Elffire has practised with the starting team and his skills are decent. Wiccroft is promising as well -"

          Turais stopped talking when he noted the lack of any input. Then, he realized that all eyes were focused solely on him. 

          "I know what you are thinking, Michael," Turais hissed. "If we somehow manage to convince the professors, Dumbledore will not take kindly to our blatant flaunting of his orders."

          "What do you mean, Turais?" Regulus asked suspiciously. "Why would we be in trouble with the Headmaster?"

          "I’ve always thought you had Chaser potential," Pyrites hummed.

          "Do you want to risk it, cap?" Harper muttered.

          "This is my final match at Hogwarts. This is the final match for most of us on the team," Michael gritted out as the Chasers nodded in concurrence. "There is nothing I fear but our failure to secure the Cup -"

          "Then count me in!" Harper said eagerly as he gave Turais an encouraging smile.

          "I don’t care if I get detention for the rest of term," Cornfoot said. "Our N.E.W.T.'s are over. There is nothing the old coot can do that will scare me."

         Michael raised his hands to end the discussion.

          "This is a decision for Black to make," Michael said grimly. "He will bear the brunt of Dumbledore’s wrath."

          "Turais!" Regulus hissed in Turais’s ears. "This is madness! Once Dumbledore finds out, you’ll be banned from Quidditch until you graduate!"

          "Dumbledore’s reaction is the least of my concern," Turais replied quickly. Turning back to the team around him, he pushed down the gnawing sense of trepidation and said, "If you trust that I am your best option and are unafraid of the repercussions, I will do it. But surely, the professors would not allow me to participate…"

          "You misjudge their level of discontentment with Dumbledore’s Quidditch ban," Michael said as he flew up towards Mister Williams. 

          Turais watched Mister Williams raise his eyebrows at Michael’s words before flying off to the commentator’s box where the professors sat. After a quick exchange, Professor Mather gave Michael a thumbs up.

          "I knew it!" Michael pumped his fist in the air. He turned to look at Turais and gasped, "Why are you still standing here?! Go change!" 

          Turais turned to his brother, who wore a pinched expression on his face. "It will be alright -"

          "How is any of this alright?" Regulus hissed before making a point of turning away from his brother.

          Looking between the two of them, Michael growled at Regulus, "Any issue you have will have to wait until after we win the match. Before then, I need your full attention on finding the Snitch! Do you understand?" Regulus gave a curt nod. Then, Michael turned to Turais. "You. Change. Now!"

          From inside the changing room, Turais could hear Hawthorne’s amplified voice making the announcement.

          “In a surprising turn of events, Turais Black is set to rejoin the Slytherin team after Professor Mather, the acting Headmaster, graciously suspends his Quidditch ban for the day! This is long overdue, if you ask me - sorry, Professor - but now the superstar Seeker is back and - wait - uh-huh - no, wait - you are joking - really?” There was a loud crack of static followed by several seconds of silence. Then, Hawthorne’s voice sounded once more. “Apparently Turais Black will be playing as the substitute Chaser!”

          A loud gasp of surprise rippled through the spectators as they muttered in equal parts of confusion and excitement.

          “I know, right?! Who imagined this would happen! I certainly did not! But I have just received this piece of information from the Slytherin captain himself…”

          Turais tuned out Hawthorne’s voice as he closed the locker door and walked up to the mouth of the tunnel where Harper awaited.

          "Are you ready?" Harper asked. Turais nodded despite harbouring lingering concern about his argument with Regulus. "Then, let’s go out there and score some goals. We still have a Quidditch Cup to win!"

          He followed Harper through the tunnel before stopping abruptly at the end. Eyeing the shadow drawn over his shoes, he closed his eyes and allowed the memory of his first Quidditch match to wash over him.

          "What is it?" he heard Harper ask over the impatient rumbling of the crowd above.

          Turais let out a shaky breath and ran his finger over the polished wood of his trusty Nimbus.

          "It’s my first time playing as a Chaser."

          "If your performance during practice is any indication, I think you’ll do just fine."

          Turais nodded to himself as he shored up some confidence. Clasping his hand on Harper’s shoulder, he said, "I just needed a moment. Thank you."

          He then focused his gaze on the Slytherin team and stepped into the sunlight.

 

***

 

          "Nice pass from Black to Harper, and back to Black - Pierricoeur tries to steal - passes to Pyrites - SLYTHERIN SCORES!"

          Turais pumped his fist in the air as Pyrites did a victory lap around the Ravenclaw goal zone. Alves, the Ravenclaw Keeper, slammed his fist against the goalpost to a reverberating ring before retrieving the Quaffle.

          The Ravenclaw team was stuck in a state of shock after Turais successfully assisted two goals. The subsequent series of unforced errors allowed the Slytherins to slowly close the point gap. Notably, Alves was growing more and more agitated by the recent developments.

          The whistle blared and the Slytherins immediately positioned themselves for a potential intercept. However, Alves continued to sit in his goal zone as he eyed the opposite end of the pitch hungrily. 

          "What are you waiting for?" Lorenzo shouted exasperatedly as he flew up to the Keeper. "Pass the Quaffle!"

          Alves sneered at the captain before throwing the ball at Pierricoeur. However, due to the delay, the Slytherin Chasers were able to swarm towards him as soon as he caught the pass. Unable to fly through the blockade, Pierricoeur quickly lost possession of the Quaffle.

          "Harper steals and scores! Now, the Slytherins are only thirty points away from tying the match -"

          "Why didn’t you make the pass?!" Lorenzo demanded.

          "Because I didn’t want to give Peabrain the Quaffle! See what happened?"

          "If you had just passed the damn Quaffle instead of sitting there like a complete idiot, I wouldn’t have been surrounded!" Pierricoeur retorted.

          "I would have easily out-flown those three -"

          "You’re pushing the blame onto me?!"

          Catherine flew in between the three players and separated them. 

          "Everyone, stop arguing! Alves, you’re a Keeper! Pass the Quaffle to the Chaser!"

          "I don’t need a Seeker telling me how to do my job!"

          "If you do your job properly, then I will gladly leave you alone!"

          Meanwhile, the three Slytherin Chasers eyed the growing commotion from afar.

          "You were right, vice,'' Pyrites said with a hint of amusement. "Alves is a sparking Erumpent horn."

          "Let’s just hope we don’t become collateral damage when he explodes,” warned Harper. 

          After Mister Williams mediated the end of the argument, the match resumed. Alves grew increasingly impatient as the Slytherin team improved to a ten-point deficit. Then, Turais managed to score his first goal by luring Alves out of the goal zone as rehearsed. 

          Alves threw a deadly glare, which Turais shrugged off easily. Watching Alves pick up the Quaffle from the pitch ground and return to the air, Turais noticed that the Keeper did not make any eye contact with his teammates. Instead, his gaze was fixated on the distant goalposts. Sensing that Alves was not planning to pass the Quaffle, Turais slowly moved into a position just outside his field of vision. 

          The whistle sounded and the Keeper immediately shot forward with the Quaffle in his arms. Anticipating this move, Turais swooped down the moment Alves exited the goal zone and punched the scarlet ball out of his hold. Catching the Quaffle easily, Turais spun around quickly and hurled the ball through the middle goalpost.

          The stadium shook as the crowd went wild.

          "Alves made a terrible blunder that was exploited! A fantastic play by Black! The Slytherin team retakes the lead!" The Slytherin section roared in excitement as Hawthorne continued. "Black is surprising us all with his stellar Chasing skills and quick thinking. This is my last commentary at Hogwarts, so I really should take this opportunity to profess my undying love and admiration for this talented, beautiful man - Sorry, Professor."

          "That was bloody brilliant!" Harper laughed as he gave the grinning Turais a light punch on the arm. "Alves is such an idiot!"

          "Black!” Alves screamed from behind.

          The Chasers turned around and saw the Ravenclaw Keeper flying towards them with a murderous glint in his eyes. However, he was held back by Catherine.

          "What are you doing, Alves?” she asked warningly.

          Alves flung her hand away roughly and shouted, "Don’t touch me, Shafiq,” before returning to his position. Catherine gave Turais a nod before flying off.

          When they were waiting for the Quaffle to return into play, Turais suddenly noticed a glint of gold circling above the irate Ravenclaw Keeper. He checked the positions of both Seekers and discovered that Regulus was much closer to him than Catherine. Therefore, he started to drift towards Alves. Once in place, he pressed two fingers into his mouth and made a loud whistle.

          Regulus snapped his gaze towards Turais’s location and his eyes immediately focused onto the Snitch hovering nearby.

          "Regulus Black has spotted the Snitch!" Hawthorne announced. "Shafiq is flying towards it as well, but she is still half a pitch away."

          Turais watched Regulus reach his arm far in front of him as he slowly gained on the elusive target. Then, in a final push to gain a fraction of an inch, his fingers successfully wrapped around the metal ball.

          "Black catches the Snitch! SLYTHERIN WINS!"

          "Reggie!" Turais let out an ecstatic cheer as he landed and hugged his speechless brother. "I can’t believe that worked! That was amazing -"

          Turais suddenly heard a warning whistle behind him. He turned just in time to receive a hard punch squarely in the face. Turais’s mind turned fuzzy for a split second when an arm wrapped around his waist to steady him. Then, he felt the warm and sticky sensation of blood trickling from his nose, staining his emerald robes.

          Beside him, Harper shouted, "You git! What’s your issue?!"

          "You cheater!" Alves hissed as he tried to take another swing at Turais. However, Michael arrived just in time to pin the boy’s arm behind his back. Meanwhile, Pyrites had to hold Regulus back to prevent him from throwing a punch of his own. "Are you out of your mind? Signalling to your blind brother to catch the Snitch! You’re a bloody Chaser now. Act like one!"

          "What he did was not against the rules!" Harper shouted.

          “The Snitch was right in front of you, Alves. You could’ve done the same thing if you were a better player,” Catherine retorted.

          "You had one job, Shafiq, and you failed at that," Alves growled. "I would not act so high and mighty if I were you."

          "You are the problem! Not Black!" Pierricoeur shouted. "Stop casting the blame on everyone else but yourself!"

          "This is quite enough!" McGonagall’s voice boomed from behind them.

          "Professor, it was -"

          "I witnessed everything, Mr Wilkins. Twenty points from Ravenclaw and detention for the rest of term, Mr Alves," the professor said sternly. She turned to Turais and waved her wand over his bloodied face. There was a slight crack as Turais felt his nose mend. A second flick vanished the blood on his face and robes while a third one combed his hair into a neat quiff. 

          "Thank you," Turais said gratefully.

          "Now, what are you waiting for?" she asked. "There’s a Cup waiting to be awarded but the victors are nowhere to be seen."

          The Slytherin team quickly climbed the stairs up to the commentator’s box. Passing by a proud Orion and jubilant Sirius, Turais saw Professor Mather standing beside the gleaming silver trophy.

          "A regrettable performance by my preferred team. But nonetheless, a convincing victory. Congratulations," Mather said as he handed the cup to Wilkins.

          "Thank you, Professor!" Wilkins said as he took the Cup and lifted it for the roaring crowd to see. Then, he motioned for Turais to join him in the front.

          Turais waved his hands in protest, but he was immediately shoved forward by several pairs of hands.

          "I’m not the Seeker, Michael!" Turais hissed through gritted teeth as he waved perfunctorily at the crescendo of applause and cheers. "This is Regulus’s moment -"

          However, his voice was soon drowned out by the raucous chant of his name.

          "BLACK! BLACK! BLACK!"

          Turais did not share the euphoric moment as he searched around worriedly. Then, he managed to catch a glimpse of Regulus clapping with a blank expression before losing sight of him behind the wall of older players.

          With much difficulty, Turais managed to fight his way to the changing room only for the well-wishers and admirers to follow him inside.

         It took several minutes for his teammates to evict them and several more until Regulus appeared through the doorway, looking completely spent from pushing through the crowd.

          As they changed, Turais eyed his brother nervously. Compared to past games when Regulus would enthusiastically discuss the highlights of the match, today he was resolutely silent.

          "You should’ve been the one lifting the Cup alongside Michael."

          "No," Regulus grunted as he placed his Quidditch robes in the locker and closed the door. "He chose correctly. Out of all of us, you were most deserving to share that moment."

          "We are a team. None of this would’ve been possible if we didn’t do it together - as one," Turais insisted. Regulus moved for the exit and Turais followed closely behind. "Just look at the Ravenclaws. They had the winning team, but with a single substitution, it led to such disastrous effects."

          "And what about you? Everyone saw how your substitution impacted the game. You spotted the Snitch before either of the Seekers did. You coached our team! You even risked raising the Headmaster’s ire!" Regulus gritted out. A pained grimace flashed across his face before he whispered, "You deserve this moment. I… I don’t."

          "Reggie..."

          Regulus suddenly pointed his wand at his locker. Under Turais’s watchful but confused gaze, he muttered the incantation and the bolt slid open. Tension lifted off Regulus’s shoulder as he walked back to lock it once more. 

         With a hint of relief in his voice, Regulus said, "I’m not angry at you, Turais. I’m not unhappy either. I promise. I just… I suppose I am just trying to be better…"

          "What do you mean, Reggie? You are brilliant! You’ve always been!" 

          Regulus looked at Turais as he tried to formulate a sentence, but he could only sag his shoulders in defeat.

          Turais’s heart ached. 

          He knew exactly what was plaguing Regulus’s mind, but he didn’t know what to do to fix it. Instead, he did the only thing that came to mind and gently guided Regulus into his arms. 

          "I’m sorry."

          Regulus looked up at Turais with his large, guileless eyes. "What are you apologizing for?"

          For denying you the spotlight. For playing as a substitute. For joining the Quidditch team… For every careless decision I made to accidentally steal your rightful moment of glory.

          All of that was left unspoken as Turais merely hugged his brother tighter.

          That evening, Slughorn hosted a private dinner for the Quidditch team at his office in celebration of their victory and the graduation of four team members.

          Marking the occasion, the towering Quidditch Cup served as the magnificent centrepiece of the table where they dined. Over the course of the night, wine and mead were consumed liberally by the adults while the three underaged members of the team helped themselves to the magically refilling goblets of butterbeer and punch. When the dessert menu appeared, a flushed Slughorn stumbled to his feet. 

          "It is with a heavy heart that I bid adieu to the finest generation of Quidditch players our House has ever seen. This toast is for you, gentlemen." He raised his wine glass high into the air.

          Michael rose and met the toast with another, "On behalf of the team, I thank you for hosting us and arranging this splendid dinner." 

          "It is my pleasure," Slughorn chuckled jovially before swallowing the content of his glass in one large gulp while Cornfoot and Pyrites cheered on boisterously.

          A few minutes later as they were sampling at the variety of desserts, Slughorn suddenly gasped in alarm.

           "How could I forget about this?"

           Slughorn tried to stand but ended up sliding further into his seat. Then he fumbled for his wand and aimed at his goblet, but his spell went wide and levitated the Quidditch Cup instead. 

           "I propose a toast for Turais Black, the best Seeker Hogwarts has ever seen - " Michael whispered something to Slughorn, who nodded with unfocused eyes. " - Ah, that’s right. He was a Chaser today… the best Quidditch player then! That ought to be correct! May he lead the team to even greater heights! To the next captain and Seeker, everyone!"

           Turais’s name was muttered around the table as Slughorn peeked inside the trophy and mumbled, "Why is there no wine?" 

           "This is the Quidditch Cup, sir," Michael said hastily and tried to pry Slughorn’s finger off the prized possession.

           "Hands off my goblet, Williams," Slughorn slurred and swatted Michael’s arm away. "Use your own."

           Beside Turais, Regulus stood up abruptly and muttered, "I’ll use the loo."

           "Reggie -" Turais called out, but his brother ignored it and turned his walk into a sprint.

           Seeing his brother’s retreating figure further strengthened Turais’s resolve. He looked across the table and saw Slughorn and Michael engaged in a fierce tug-of-war over the Cup. Beside them, Pyrites and Cornfoot were playing finger spoof and taking turns draining shots of Firewhiskey. Meanwhile, Vanity was curled up in an alcove hugging an empty wine bottle and snoring loudly. Seeing that the coast was clear, Turais nudged Harper on the shoulder and whispered, "Harper, can I ask for a favour?"

          "What’s that?"

          "I… well…" Turais fidgeted slightly before he continued, "... I want you to help me train to become a Chaser over summer."

          Harper blinked with a confused expression on his face. He opened his mouth as if he was about to ask a question before deciding against it and started humming thoughtfully. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth again and said hesitantly, "Sorry, I might be in need of an ear trumpet because I thought you said you wished to become a Chaser."

          "Yes, that’s what I said."

          Harper proceeded to stare at him with bugged eyes. Then, he blinked out of his daze and shouted incredulously, "I thought the final match was a one-off incident. Why in Hecate’s name would you want to do that?"

          "Do what?" Slughorn’s voice called out just as Michael tumbled onto the ground with his arms wrapped protectively around the Cup.

          "Nothing!" Turais replied immediately. Glaring at Harper warningly, he hissed, "Try saying it louder, would you?!" 

          Harper immediately clamped his mouth shut, looking abashed. Pressing his voice low, he demanded, "But why?!"

           "Because I want my brother to remain as Seeker," Turais explained. "And, oddly, everyone in this room seems to think I have Chasing potential."

           "Listen, your brother is a fine Seeker. But when we say your abilities are unparalleled, what we mean is that you guarantee our team one hundred and fifty points and almost-certain victory. There’s a reason for the saying: ‘Don’t chase the Quaffle when you can catch the Snitch.’ You are jeopardizing three years of ensured possession of the Cup! Do you understand?"

           "Of course I understand. I would first like to make clear that I have absolute faith we can win the Cup with my brother as Seeker." Turais sighed heavily before he continued, "More importantly, I am aware that everyone constantly compares him unfavourably with me. Despite his silence on the matter, I know that he suffers greatly from it. Seeking… is something that both Regulus and I excel in. However, he needs this position to bolster his confidence. I do not. And I’m not doing this purely for his sake either. As Chaser, I’ll be able to spend time and play Quidditch with him. I want to be beside him to support him during his struggles, to celebrate his successes, and to watch him flourish as a person. This, to me, is worth more than all the trophies in the world combined."

           There was a long pause before Harper cleared his throat noisily. Then, he croaked, "Bloody hell, Black. How do I even respond to this?"

           Turais grinned as he gave a slight punch on Harper’s shoulder. "By saying yes, you wank."

           "Dare I refuse? Especially after such a soul-baring confession?"

           "Thank you," Turais said sincerely.

           "I won’t go easy on you."

           Turais laughed.

           "I’m counting on it."

Notes:

What do you think about Turais becoming a Chaser?!

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-05-07

Chapter 68: Interlude - Fourth Year In Review

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts! Thank you for your continual support for this story!

- ravenclawblues 2022-06-11

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway.

 

***

 


CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

INTERLUDE - FOURTH YEAR IN REVIEW


 

          When the dinner party ended, Regulus was still nowhere to be seen.

          Turais, Michael, and Harper managed to transport their three inebriated peers back to the seventh-year dormitory. Shutting the door behind them, Harper massaged his sore shoulder and yawned, "I'm calling it a night."

          With a wave of his hand, the Chaser disappeared down the staircase. Instead of returning to his dormitory, Turais decided to sit down by the entrance of the common room. 

          Minutes later, Regulus walked in and froze at the sight of his brother. He tried to walk around his brother. However, Turais shot out his arm and held his brother in place.

          "Let's take a walk."

          "I'm tired. Why don't we do this tomorrow -"

          "Now," Turais said firmly before dragging Regulus out into the corridors.

          They walked in a stilted silence and listened to the gentle crackle of the torches that lined the walls. After several minutes, Turais cleared his throat, but Regulus spoke first.

          "Turais, you should be the Seeker next year. I will quit -"

          "That's not necessary," Turais interrupted. 

          Regulus let out a frustrated groan.

          "We cannot both play as Seeker."

          "Indeed. That's why I plan to play as Chaser next year," Turais revealed. Regulus's eyes widened in surprise. However, it lasted only for a split second as fury soon gripped his face. "I have already arranged to train with Harper over the summer. By September, I should be able to play as a starting Chaser. This is the best and most logical way to make use of our talents -"

          "But -"

          "As the new Slytherin captain, I get to choose how I would organize my team -"

          Regulus paused mid-stride and turned to confront Turais. 

          "You are a much better Seeker than me," Regulus growled and jabbed a finger at Turais's chest. "You shouldn't give up the position to let me play!"

          "I will be playing as a Chaser next year no matter what," Turais said firmly. Regulus opened his mouth to argue, but Turais pushed on, "Whether or not you wish to remain as Seeker is your choice to make -"

          "Stop, Turais! Stop!" Regulus shouted. "It's obvious you are yielding the Seeker position to me, just as you have yielded the trip to Castelbruxo to Alex before! I'm not a charity case!"

          Just as Turais wondered what to say, Regulus took off.

          "Reggie," Turais called out as he chased after his brother to an unused classroom. "Reggie! Regulus!"  

          Regulus tried to slam the door shut behind him, but Turais slipped his foot in front of the door frame. The younger boy ignored him and sat down on a desk in a huff. Turais heaved a tired sigh and sat down next to his brother. 

           With a soft voice, Turais comforted, "Reggie, you participated in the Seeker trial. Everyone saw that you were the best of the lot. You are hardly a charity case by any definition of the word. Do you wish to challenge me on this point?"

           "I… but I'm not as good as you. I probably never will be..."

           "And I don't need you to be," Turais replied as he pressed the pad of his thumb on Regulus's furrowed brows to smoothen it out. "Also, why are you so worried about this now? Perhaps when Dumbledore returns, he'll ban me from Quidditch for life, and all of this discussion will become moot anyway."

           Regulus sat up in alert and seized Turais's shoulder tightly. "That won't happen. We won't allow it."

           "Thank you, Reggie. Now, if only you would use this level of determination to become the best Seeker you can be..."

           Regulus narrowed his eyes and pouted, but ultimately he gave Turais the elusive nod he sought.

           "That's more like it," Turais chuckled.

 

***

 

          For the next several days, the entire Slytherin Quidditch team awaited Dumbledore's return with fear and trepidation. 

          "It was an emergency! And Professor Mather permitted you to play. Surely Dumbledore must take that into consideration!" said Jane as she glanced at the glum faces around her.

          "If none of us says anything, maybe he'll forget that it happened?" Sirius added with a hopeful expression.

          The Slytherins eyed each other hesitantly, clearly not sharing their optimism. 

          However, the day of Dumbledore's return came and went without any whispers of retribution. There seemed to be a silent agreement amongst Turais's friends not to question the Headmaster's uncharacteristic turn of a blind eye on the matter. This chaotic episode was then soon forgotten with the onset of their exams. Those, too, came to pass as Turais and his friends found themselves looking forward to the last stress-free holidays before they started their preparations for O.W.L.s as fifth-years. With that final thought, Turais chatted with Pierricoeur in private one day about his idea of forming a study club.

          "It is our O.W.L.s next year. I am inviting you to join me so we can help others in our year with homework and mock examination questions."

          "I know what a study club is," Pierricoeur said blandly. "But that is a mammoth undertaking. What's in it for you? A Special Award for Services to the School?"

          "I'm not doing it for my own gains. I think all of us can benefit from learning from one another."

          Pierricoeur gave Turais a hard look before he shook his head and sighed, "I will never understand what goes through that altruistic mind of yours, Black. Always going out of your way to help someone. Does it ever wear you out?"

          "So… Are you on board with the idea? I can use your knowledge in Arithmancy. That is something I definitely cannot tutor others on."

          "I am willing to help," Pierricoeur said after a moment's consideration. "However, I do not wish to head this club. It is an unnecessary addition to my list of commitments."

          "That's fair."

          "Do you even know how to run a club?" 

          Turais thought back to his past life, where he only focused on being an instructor for the D.A. while leaving Hermione to arrange everything else. He shook his head.

          "As much as I hate to admit to the stereotype, we Ravenclaws have a house-wide study club run by the upper years. Perhaps, you can ask them for some advice?"

          "That would be helpful. Who can I talk to?"

          "You are friends with Catherine Shafiq, correct?" Pierricoeur asked, and Turais nodded. "She is part of the leadership group and can likely offer you some insight."

          "I'll have a chat with her then," Turais said as they approached the intersection where they usually parted ways.

          "Moonlight Sonata," Pierricoeur suddenly said. "Do you hear it? The piano?"

          Turais strained his ears and caught the gentle whispers of music travelling from the neighbouring corridor. The playing was slightly uneven and its rhythm irregular. At the end of the piece, there was a jarring clash of notes that Turais suspected was a mistake. 

          "I didn't realize we have pianos in the castle." 

          "We have a choir, Black. Of course, we have pianos," Pierricoeur scoffed. "Anyway, update me on the latest after your meeting."

          "I will."

          Pierricoeur nodded and headed off to the Ravenclaw Tower while Turais returned to the dungeons.

          The following day when Turais headed for breakfast, Turais spotted Catherine rising from her seat just as he entered the Great Hall. 

          Turais quickly took a beeline towards her and greeted, "Hey, Catherine. Can I ask for your advice on something?"

          "Most certainly. I am heading to Professor Flitwick's office. Perhaps we can chat along the way?"

          "Of course," Turais said quickly. He took two cheese scones from the nearest table and stuffed them into his pocket hastily.

          "I'm not in that much of a hurry," she said amusedly.

          Noticing that her gaze was fixated on his robe pocket, Turais flushed in embarrassment. 

          "I didn't want to waste your time," Turais replied sheepishly, at which Catherine chuckled amusedly.

          On their way to the Ravenclaw tower, Catherine listened to Turais as he explained his plan in detail.

          "The Ravenclaw study club uses a mentor system where an older student partners up with two or three younger students. From what I understand, you are trying to create a club where an instructor offers homework help to all who require it," Catherine said. "With these differences in mind, I can offer some suggestions.

          "There are more than ten subjects eligible for O.W.L.s. Unless you have sufficient instructors, you should consider focusing on the core subjects. What is your expected attendance rate? Where will you host these sessions? Are you focusing on theoretical knowledge or also on practical skills? Also, which professors are willing to sponsor and oversee those sessions? These are all things you must take into consideration."

          They then discussed the logistical issues in earnest as they arrived in front of Flitwick's office.

          "Thank you for all the advice. It was very enlightening," Turais said gratefully.

          "I apologize for making the conversation sound more like an interrogation," Catherine grimaced. "But I'm glad I was able to help. Not many people would attempt to form a study club. For that, you have my utmost respect."

          Turais chuckled, "Don't count your owls before they are delivered. What comes of it remains to be seen. Perhaps it would fail spectacularly."

          "At least I won't be here to witness it first-hand," Catherine joked. "If you have any more questions, feel free to find me. You can also owl me over summer."

          "I will. See you around then?"

          Catherine nodded in agreement. With that, Turais left and headed for an unused classroom where he was due to meet Professor Mather.

          Swinging the door open, Turais found a cavernous room that rivalled the largest Potions dungeon. The air inside was stale and choked with dust. Broken desks and crates were piled in a disorganized mountain that reached the ceiling. Staring down at the narrow opening formed by a jagged arch of protruding chair legs, Turais supposed his destination lay beyond the dim alleyway.

         Since their first duelling session months ago, Turais had advanced to studying tactical covers and close-quarter duelling. However, this was the first time Professor Mather had organized such a large arena for them to practice.

          Holding out his wand defensively, Turais ventured into the tight alley, forcing him to walk sideways. In the suffocating space, his heightened nerves caused him to pause at the slightest movement and sound. Quickly, he noticed his robes made a consistent rustling noise as they brushed against the wall of mangled furniture. Turais immediately cast a Silencing Charm on the fabric before continuing his way to a fork in the path. Glancing in both directions, he chose the right side when he suddenly heard hurried footsteps behind him.

          Turning around quickly, his shoulder slammed into the numerous protruding chair legs and elicited a loud series of wooden creaks as the mountain of objects shifted around him. Turais froze on the spot until the echoes faded, leaving him with only the sound of his hammering heart thumping in his ears.

          Just as he was about to resume his journey, there was a flash of bright light overhead. Turais was able to raise his wand and dissipate the incoming spell in time when he caught a glimpse of a shadow leaping overhead. Then, a second spell arched towards him from the opposite direction. Turais dove onto the ground and heard the spell connect with the stone floor next to his ankle. He immediately rolled away as he tried to deflect the torrent of spells raining from above.

          Through the dizzying sparks, Turais noticed Professor Mather perched atop a thin tower of crates. He aimed his wand and sent an Exploding Charm at one of the crates, causing the column to collapse beneath the professor's feet. However, the man elegantly leapt onto a neighbouring column before responding with another spell of his own. 

          Turais transfigured the wooden panels into a dome over his head this time. The blast tore the barrier into shreds, and the tiniest spark of ember registered in Turais's consciousness. He instinctively amplified it into a fiery blaze and directed the flaming splinters towards Mather.

          The professor jumped on top of a large heap of desks, and immediately Turais aimed at the base of the pile.

          "Carpe Retractum!"

          A cord of light shot out of his wand and wrapped around several desks. There was a hard yank on Turais's wand as the Grappling Charm lifted him off his heels. At the same time, the desks tugged loose as the mountain of furniture shifted beneath Mather's feet.

          The professor stumbled and the collapsing heap quickly turned into a metallic avalanche. Turais extended both arms in front but quickly realized he wouldn't be able to halt the onslaught.

          Eyeing a rusty chandelier hanging from the stone ceiling above, Turais cast another Grappling Charm. The spell held firm, and Turais immediately shot up through the air. He hung ungracefully from the creaking fixture and watched as the passages and walls of the maze collapsed into a chaotic mass of debris, dotted with pockets of remnant flames.

          When the rumbling and movements finally subsided, Turais heard Mather call out from below. "You can come down now."

          Cancelling the charm, Turais landed on his feet and patted his robes free of dust.

          "Your fixation with flames," Mather commented wryly. "Do you ever consider using something else as a counterattack?"

          "When you finally consider stopping springing surprises on me, Professor." A hint of amusement flitted across Mather's face as Turais continued, "However, to answer your question properly, I… I feel this inexplicable draw towards fire spells, especially when duelling. They also feel more powerful, although I cannot quantify it properly."

          Mather scratched his chin thoughtfully.

          "Similar to how some are more adept at certain fields of magic, perhaps you are simply more attuned to fire-based magic," he replied before turning towards the furniture pile. "Now, help me rearrange this."

          Raising his arms in front of him, Mather drew a horizontal line with his wand and rebuilt the maze with Turais mirroring the man's movement.

          With the maze reconstructed, Mather said, "Now, let's start again."

          After another gruelling hour, Mather announced the end of their final session of the school year. Then, Turais walked up to the Professor hesitantly.

          "Professor," Turais said carefully. "I have a question."

          "Ask away."

          "Regarding my participation in the final match… do you know whether the Headmaster plans on punishing me?"

          "He does not." 

          "Are you certain?"

          "Yes." Turais looked at Mather, waiting for him to elaborate. However, the professor didn't seem inclined to do so. With a final wave of his wand, he glanced at Turais and said, "If that is all, I will see you come September."

          Turais thanked the professor and left. As he headed back to the common room through the corridor, he recognized mournful nocturnal music. 

          Moonlight Sonata, Turais recalled Pierricoeur's words.

          Unlike last time, this rendition sounded smooth and more refined. Turais stood in silence and enjoyed the music until it stopped. Then, he continued on his way in relative silence when he spotted Jane and Regulus sitting on a stone bench deep in conversation while looking over several pieces of parchments. 

          The moment they noticed Turais's presence, Regulus immediately stuffed the parchments into Jane's strap bag and looked up with a slightly panicked expression.

          "Hi, Turais!" Jane said brightly and brought the bag close to her chest. "Wow, you look like you've been exercising!"

          "I suppose I was…." Turais muttered as he eyed the pair in confusion. "What were the two of you doing?"

          "Nothing much." Jane suddenly leapt onto her feet and said, "I would love to chat, but there is somewhere I must be. I'll see you around!"

          Turais caught the secretive glance between the two before Jane hastily walked off.

          "I didn't know you and Jane were close," Turais commented. 

          "We're not!" Regulus returned defensively. "I… I was only acquainted with her through you. And she seems like the few Gryffindors I can stand."

          They fell into a loaded silence with the obvious question hanging between them.

          "Reggie… You would tell me if you were in any trouble, right?" 

          "I'm not in trouble, don't worry," Regulus bit down on his lip guiltily. "But can I keep this secret to myself for a little longer? I'm not ready to share it yet."

          "Of course."

          Regulus looked up with a grateful smile and whispered, "Thank you."

          "Come here." Turais pulled Regulus in and gave him a side hug.

          "Urgh… you stink, Turais," Regulus mumbled, but he did not move away.

          Later that day, Turais spotted Severus sitting in the corner of the common room surrounded by books and walked up to him.

          "Hey, Severus," Turais greeted. The boy's gaze snapped up before it flitted back onto an opened textbook and remained resolutely. "I believe I owe you a discussion on spell creation?"

          The boy's gaze snapped up at the mention.

          "Oh… I thought you had forgotten about it."

          "Well, I haven't," Turais said as he sat next to the boy. "And I… I deliberately put off having this conversation with you." 

          Severus frowned before demanding an answer, to which Turais replied, "Well, it is because I didn't want to disappoint you. I must confess that I don't know that much about spell invention -"

          "But you invented Levicorpus!"

          "Levicorpus was a one-off -" Severus's face fell dramatically. "- but I might know something that would be equally as helpful?"

          "Such as?" Severus asked skeptically.

          "This."

           Turais waved his wand around Severus and wordlessly cast variations of the Disarming Charm. The feather quill shot out from the younger boy's hand into Turais's while a coin pouch flew out of his robe pocket and emptied its content. 

          "It's just a Disarming Charm…."

          "How about this?" Turais asked as he pointed at the face of the grandfather clock nearby and scrambled the minute and hour arm. A second later. the cuckoo bird emerged without a song. 

          "Or this?"

          Turais aimed at Travers, Severus's nemesis, discreetly and twisted his wrist. The sandwich slipped from his fingers with the cold cut spilling onto the table. Then, Turais directed the two slices of bread into the boy's gaping mouth.

          Severus's lips twitched in amusement before asking, "You must teach me those spells some time."

          "They were all variations of the same Disarming Charm," Turais said quickly, glad to have impressed the boy.

          "Surely not," gasped Severus as he leaned forward eagerly. "Can you teach me?"

          "Of course," Turais readily agreed as he felt a relieved smile forming on his lips.

 

***

 

          The luscious green and floral scents had returned to the all-Wizarding village of Hogsmeade just in time for the last excursion of this school year. Once again, Turais and Narcissa were sitting silently in a discreet corner in Hog's Head as the doorbell chime indicated the arrival of Arthur and Andromeda.

          After a quick exchange of pleasantries, Arthur clasped his hand on Turais's shoulder and said, "So, which table will we be occupying today -"

          Narcissa cleared her throat lightly, and Arthur stopped talking. She asked Turais, "I was wondering whether you would like to join us today?"

          Despite being taken by utter surprise, Turais was able to mask it and returned a polite nod. 

          "Of course."

          "And you, Mr Weasley?"

          "Well… I don't see why not."

          For the first time, they sat together and conversed over their drinks. There seemed to be a mutual understanding to not stray from the most mundane of topics. As a result, the conversation mainly focused on Nymphadora, with Arthur sharing his parenting experiences. The hour passed by quickly, and soon, it was time to Andromeda to leave.

          "Thank you for arranging these meetings," Narcissa whispered as they watched Andromeda and Arthur Dis-apparate through the dusty windows.

          Turais noted a curious tone in her voice that was akin to regret. 

          "Now you are free to do the same, but without me," Turais said with a wistful smile. At Narcissa's frown, he shrugged. "I had hoped that these meetings could ease the tension between us, cousin, but I am not so naïve as to not recognize your geniality was borne out of necessity."

          Narcissa fell silent for a long moment, then she met Turais's gaze and said, "It is not an act." Before he could respond, she continued quickly, "Also, I will require you to continue arranging these visits for the near future since I will remain at my parents' home until my wedding."

           Dumbfounded, Turais could only nod.

          The two of them did not speak on the return trip to Tomes and Scrolls, nor when they parted ways. As he made his way through the secret passageway, Turais thought back to Narcissa's subtle and incremental shift in attitude towards him after every encounter. With Narcissa's most recent revelation… That was more than he could have hoped for, considering their circumstances. 

          The thought lifted his spirits, which Sirius picked up on while playing chess later that day.

          "You seem to be in a good mood," Sirius peered up intriguingly.

          "I am." 

          "That's great and all, but do you mind?" Sirius asked and gestured at the chessboard between them.

          Turais ruffled his brother's hair playfully, much to Sirius's annoyance, and moved his pawn forward.

 

***

 

          At the End-of-Term Feast, the Great Hall was decked in green and silver to celebrate Slytherin’s fourth consecutive House Cup win. The next day, the Black brothers found themselves standing on the platform of Hogsmeade Station as they waited for the homebound Hogwarts Express.

          Sirius was chatting with Alex when his gaze fell upon the Shooting Star 72 resting on top of Regulus's trunk. He slapped his younger brother on the shoulder and demanded,  "Oi, Reggie. Were you planning to return my broom at some point?"

          "You never asked!" 

          Under Regulus's cautious gaze, Sirius picked up the broom and examined it. His eyes were immediately drawn to the footrest where there was a zigzagged streak of white and a large indent.

          "This is one gnarly hit." Sirius rubbed his thumb across it as Regulus winced. "Was it from the first match?"

          "I tried to fix it, but..."

          "These long scratch marks along the handle as well… Do you see them?"

          "Of course, I see them," Regulus mumbled. "It was from the match against Gryffindor when Birdwhistle slammed into me..."

          Sirius continued to inspect the broom with a deepening frown, and after several seconds, Regulus gritted out with a pinched expression on his face, "My new broom… you can have it."

          "What are you talking about?"

          "When you gave me your broom, you said that if there was even the slightest nick on it, you would take my new broom…."

          Sirius blinked.

          "Did I say that? Hmm… it does sound like something I would say."

          "Then give it back." 

          "No way!" Sirius hugged the broom to his chest tightly. "I like this broom."

          "We just talked about this..."

          "I'm not taking your new broom just because you made a tiny dent on mine," Sirius huffed indignantly. "How petty of a person do you think I am?"

          It was Regulus's turn to blink in confusion.

          "But why would you want to keep a blemished broom when you can have a new one!"

          "They're like battle scars, you know… gives it character and makes it unique. Also, I can now tell people that this broom helped win the Quidditch Cup." 

          Regulus stared for a few seconds as his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.

          "Then don't say things you don't mean," he muttered quietly. "I can't believe I've wasted my time worrying about this."

          "Ah… Is that why you were so moody these past few days?" Sirius noted with a growing smirk. "Well, more than usual, anyway."

          "How was I supposed to know you were into this sort of thing?!" Regulus snapped defensively. "Hand the broom over. I would like to break a couple of twigs just for the laughs -"

          "Little icky Reggie is worried that his big, bad Gryffindor brother would steal his new broom!" Sirius cooed loudly.

          "Oh, shut up -" 

          "Little icky Reggie cares about his poor, abused brother -"

          "SIRIUS!" 

          Regulus launched himself at Sirius, and the older boy immediately dodged. Then, they chased each other along the length of the station as Turais watched on with a face-splitting smile.

Notes:

This concludes Year Four! It was definitely a more inward-looking year for Turais which focused heavily on his personal relationships. Please look forward to the Greek holiday and Year Five.

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-06-11

Chapter 69: Ithaca

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you for your continual support for this story!

- ravenclawblues 2022-07-02

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway.

 

***

 


CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

ITHACA


  

          This year's first of July was treated with far less fanfare than in past years. However, with the anticipated trip to Diagon Alley, the Black brothers still rose earlier than usual.

          They were almost finished with breakfast when several owls swooped in through the open window and deposited a letter each in front of the four boys. 

          When Turais opened his letter, a silver and green piece of metal fell onto the table with a loud clatter. It was a badge with a large 'P' superimposed on the Slytherin snake.

          "I knew you were a cert!" Sirius shouted and thumped Turais on the back excitedly.

          "Congratulations, Turais," Regulus flashed Turais a small smile before returning to his breakfast.

          "Not even the Headmaster could find an excuse to deny you of becoming prefect," Orion huffed. Then, he squeezed Turais on the shoulder and beamed proudly. "Do take care to send a thank-you note and a box of crystallized pineapples to Professor Slughorn for his recommendation."

          "Yes, Father," Turais said. He shot a worried glance at Alex, but the other boy didn't seem disappointed. In fact, he looked happier than Turais was.

          "You're the perfect choice, Turais," Alex said firmly. "You are well-liked and well-respected by everyone… almost everyone, at least."

          "Do you reckon the Headmaster tried to block Turais's appointment?" asked Regulus.

          "I wouldn't put anything past him," Orion said darkly. "But much like the Quidditch captaincy, the choice of student to serve as prefect rests with the Head of House. That's why retaining Professor Slughorn's favour is of such importance."

          "Turais won't have any trouble with that! Every time I make a mistake in Potions, Slughorn reminds me of how you were this close to brewing a perfect Draught of Living Death in your first ever class," Sirius said as he indicated the sliver of space between his thumb and index finger. "Frankly, I am also this close to spiking his pumpkin juice with a stronger dose of Forgetfulness -"

          Sirius suddenly clamped his jaw shut. Orion's moustache twitched.

          "What do you mean by stronger dose ?" Sirius shrunk into his robes as Orion thundered, "What did you do?!"

          Sirius winced. 

          "I… I might have added a teeny drop of Forgetfulness Potion into Slughorn's goblet once to make him forget the Turais's Draught of Living Death story?" Orion's eyes flashed dangerously, and Sirius added quickly, "I don't think it worked. Though, he seemed confused about whether Turais played as a Chaser or Seeker for the longest time…."

          "SIRIUS ARCTURUS BLACK! You are in so much trouble!"

          "Sorry!" the boy managed to squeak out.

          "You better be on your best behaviour, or else you will stay at home while the rest of us travel to Parádeisos -"

          "Wait, what?! Parádeisos?! We're going to Parádeisos?" gasped Sirius as he looked around the table for confirmation. Then he sprang out of his chair and started to pace around the kitchen table frantically.

          Orion eyed his eldest son in confusion and asked, "Turais, you… didn't tell your brothers?"

          "Tell us what?" Regulus demanded.

          Feeling his brothers' reproachful gazes on him, Turais explained, "Father agreed to the holiday -"

          "When was this decided?!"

          "Easter."

          "WHAT?!" Sirius and Regulus shrieked in unison.

          "It slipped my mind! I'm sorry!" Turais said defensively. "I had more important matters on my mind at the time."

          "We need to go to Diagon Alley! Now!" Sirius demanded. "We need safari outfits, pixie-repellent amulets -"

          "Travel guides," Regulus added. "And a translation spellbook."

          As the two brothers continued their spirited discussion, Orion rubbed his face tiredly and muttered, "I had wondered why Sirius was so well-behaved…."

 

***

 

          After taking their annual family portraits, browsing for Regulus's new broomstick (a Nimbus 1701), and purchasing school supplies, the Black household headed to the department store of L'Atelier des Lumières. They spent a long while in the travel department procuring everything on Sirius and Regulus's extensive lists, albeit a heavily curated version by their father. Then, before they left, Sirius managed to drag Orion to the toys section.

          "No, Sirius. I am not buying you a Fanged Frisbee."

          "Oh, shucks," Sirius pouted. Eyeing the busy store and numerous shoppers, he asked, "But I can choose something else…?"

          Orion narrowed his eyes at Sirius's hopeful expression and grunted a definitive "no" before turning to Turais.

          "See if there is anything you'd like. It will be your present for becoming a prefect."

          Turais muttered his thanks as Sirius grumbled, "I want a gift when I become a prefect."

          " If you do," Orion replied wryly as Sirius bristled.

          "Actually," Turais said. "I already have something in mind, Father..."

          He brought Orion to the photography section and stood before the large showcase displaying rows of cameras. One of the models, an Argus C3 Matchmatic, caught his eye.

          "If this is what you want, then, of course. What about you, Alex? Do you want to purchase anything?"

          The boy started.

          "I… I don't need anything, Mr Black."

          "Well, if you find something, just let Turais know."

          "I will, thank you."

          Orion walked off to browse the aisles when Sirius suddenly appeared beside them.

          "They have the Potion Explosion - Double Trouble edition!"

          "The what?"

          Sirius held up a collapsible toy cauldron and explained excitedly, "The world's best portable game. There are sixty different games you can play with it, including Five-Card Charlatan and Pop Goes The Cauldron!"

          "I've never heard of those games before," said Alex. He looked at Turais, who shrugged. Turais had played those games a handful of times before, but he'd subsequently forgotten half the rules.

          "That's only because you decided to skip childhood and jump straight into adulthood," Sirius waggled his finger disapprovingly. "But no worries! I can teach you all of them in no time! We can even bring this on the safari cruise and play at night! We have a pressing need for entertainment."

          "The cruise is the entertainment," Turais protested. "Besides, you have enough toys as it is."

          "There's no such thing as too many toys."

          "Father will say no." 

          "That's why I'm asking my favouritest big brother to get it for me."

          Turais sighed, "I'm sorry, Siri, but I would like to buy a camera."

          Sirius dipped his head dejectedly.

          "I'll buy it for you," Alex said, reading the packaging.

          Sirius beamed and wrapped his arms around Alex's stomach. "Really? Alex, you're the best!"

          "You're spoiling him," Turais warned, but Alex just shared a mischievous grin with Sirius.

          "Younger brothers are meant to be spoiled, aren't they?"

          "Definitely," Sirius replied with a straight face.

          Later that day, when they returned home, Turais received an angry Floo call from Jonty.

          "I cannot believe I had to learn about your holiday to Parádeisos from my father!" 

          The fireplace spewed a cloud of ash in Turais's face as Jonty huffed incredulously. 

          Lord Steward owned a Portkey-travelling business, Port-on-Call, where Orion had bought their Portkey passes.

          "Sorry," Turais grimaced, feeling slightly ridiculous dealing with all the dramatic reactions regarding the news.

          "Anyhow, I made this call to demand a souvenir for all the shame I've endured! And also for the fact that you managed to book a holiday in peak season! The cruises are fully booked for the next two years. How did you even manage?"

          "The son of a family friend of ours works there. Reckon he had something to do with it."

          "I see," Jonty hummed thoughtfully. "Are you certain you don't bathe regularly in liquid luck?" 

          Turais chuckled and ensured his friend he did not. Then, Orion shouted from the kitchen that supper was ready.

          "Don't forget about my souvenir!" Jonty warned again before his face disappeared in a flash of green flames.

 

***

 

          For the days leading up to the holiday, Turais split his time between practising how to use his camera and training as a Chaser with Harper. Meanwhile, Sirius entered an endless loop of packing and repacking his trunk with significant aid from Kreacher. The cycle was only broken when the poor house-elf finally had enough and locked all their trunks away with magic that even Orion could not undo.

          The day of their Portkey journey finally arrived, and the entire household was bursting at the seams with energy as they travelled to the Ministry International Portkey concourse. 

          On the far side of the room was the departure board listing various destinations and Portkey departure times. Every so often, the board peeled off like a discarded poster. Then, hundreds of purple Ministry memos, folded like paper aeroplanes, flew over their heads and arranged themselves on the wall like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle to reveal the updated departure times.

          "Destination?" Orion asked. 

          "Ithaca, Greece!" Sirius shouted.

          "Chamber?"

          "Number Five!"

          "Time of departure?"

          "Quarter past eight!"

          "We have ten minutes left," Orion announced.

         Sirius's arm shot up and pointed at an arched doorway with a large, golden "Port-on-Call" placard.

          "I know where to go!"

          "Show us the way, then," Orion grinned.

          The family arrived at their designated chamber and found an extended chaise longue that seated them comfortably. Turais gripped the seat as he readied himself for the horrible tugging sensation of Portkey travel. However, at the time of departure, he only felt a gentle pressure pushing him into the cushion as the chamber walls blurred into a grey mass. A second later, the walls became stationary as a gentle ping sounded.

          "Quarter past eight from the British Ministry of Magic, London, United Kingdom. You have arrived in Ithaca, Greece. Local time is quarter past ten. Thank you for travelling with Port-on-Call, and we look forward to seeing you again soon."

          "I think this is the only time Turais hasn't fallen on his arse after a Portkey," Sirius commented as they stood up.

          "Thank you for reminding everyone of my ineptitude," said Turais dryly. However, he was still enjoying the best Portkey travel he had ever experienced, too much to feel much annoyance.

          "Always glad to take you down a peg or two - ack- "

          Sirius wrapped his hands around his thigh as Regulus's wand flew into Orion's hand. 

          "Sirius!" Orion chided as the boy floundered around as if he was hit with a Tarantallegra. "Why did you put your wand in your underpants?!"

          "How was I supposed to know you would summon it out of the blue?!"

          "Surely the wand check at the customs office rings a bell! Quickly now, hand it over."

          "I can't…." Gesturing at his trousers, he mumbled quietly, "I need to take these off first…."

          Orion sighed and cancelled the spell as Sirius darted off to the washroom. 

         "I bet he was hoping he could hold onto his wand and do magic," Regulus huffed. "Considering there is no regulation of underaged magic in Greece."

          "I almost forgot about that," Orion nodded, "Thank you, Regulus."

          When the red-faced Sirius returned with his wand in his hand, they exited the chamber and joined the long queues of visitors inside a large, underground cavern. All the while, Sirius complained.

          "Why do Turais and Alex get to keep their wands, and I don't?"

          Orion glanced around before hissing quietly, "Because they, unlike you, do not conceal their wands in their underpants!"

          "It was originally in my boot! Your Summoning charm moved it up!"

          Massaging his temples, Orion asked, "Does this improve your argument?"

          Sirius hesitated for a split second before puffing his chest. "Yes!"

          "You always pick the strangest hills to die on…." Regulus muttered under his breath. Sirius stuck out his tongue in retaliation. "Yes. Very mature."

          As the two brothers bickered, Alex leaned towards Turais and whispered, "Remind me who's the one with a stick up his arse?"

          Turais snorted.

          After passing through the customs office in relative peace, they walked up to the concierge. A man was sitting in a telephone booth-sized cubicle with every inch of available surface occupied by tall stacks of paper. Notes whizzed around his head, alerting him of the latest updates, though he paid them no attention.

          At the sound of their footsteps, the man heaved a sigh. Without looking up, he recited, "Welcome to Ithaca, the gateway city to the world-renowned sanctuary of Parádeisos. I am Paul Blumenthal, and I will be assisting you today. Your name please?"

          "Orion Arcturus Black."

          When Orion's voice sounded, multiple drawers slid open behind the clerk and released several streams of parchment that rushed towards the desk and formed a neat stack. The clerk picked up the first page and glanced at it with disinterest.

          "The Black family," Paul read monotonously. "Orion Black, father to Turais, Sirius, and Regulus Black. The legal guardian of Alexander Fawley. Party of five with one adult and four concession fares."

          He peered up through his narrow glasses and waited for Orion's nod. Then, the man flicked his wand lazily as several quills tipped themselves in inkpots and started to scribble frantically across different pages.

          "A nine-day visit. One night at the Ithaca Cataract Hotel followed by the seven-day all-inclusive Voyage of the Argonauts safari cruise -" He paused at the page with a large Gringotts watermark at the top and scanned it. "And all expenses are prepaid via Gringotts bank transfer." 

          At Orion's affirmation, he stood up and laid out five identical packages on the counter. "Your welcome packages, each with an itinerary, map, and cruise boarding pass. Please check the contents and sign your name on this parchment."

          The moment Orion lifted his quill off the page, Paul immediately snatched both objects from Orion's hands.

          "One important safety notice. We are on the island of Ithaca, which is situated away from the main Planctae archipelago that forms Parádeisos. While the distance offers us a degree of protection from the local fauna, your safety is only guaranteed by wards placed on this island. Venture out of bounds and risk your life and the utility of all your limbs. Do not attempt Apparition as there is an anti-Apparition ward across the entire archipelago. You did not bring any creatures with you, correct?"

          They nodded.

          "Good, we have enough paperwork as it is with the recent escape of several manticores. They were just juveniles, and we have caught all of them. At least, we think we have. Illegal traffickers do not keep the best records, you know…."

           Ignoring Orion's shocked expression, Paul directed them to the exit where they found themselves in a large city square bursting with activity. 

         The air was warm, humid, and filled with unfamiliar but pleasant scents. They stood at the edge of a broad, crescent river that encircled the city and flowed towards a bright opening at the end of a long tunnel. On the other side of the riverbank was an awe-inspiring landscape of enormous stalagmites that melted into a vertical rock wall. Above, statuesque stalactites hung beside a gigantic section of the collapsed ceiling with a diameter that spanned miles. It formed a natural window for sunbeams to penetrate deep into swirling mists and onto the luscious groves of olives and palms on the cave floor.

          It was then that Turais recalled the city's nickname.

          The Cavern City.

          At Alex's nudge, Turais followed Orion as they squeezed through the crowd to an area adjacent to the ferry terminal where several gondolas sat idly by the deck. Orion stopped in front of an empty valet podium with a plaque marked with the name of their hotel. 

          A cacophony of cheers and cries of despair suddenly erupted nearby. Turais turned and saw several men in valet uniform crouching behind a herb merchant's stall and huddling around a makeshift wooden table. One man threw his playing cards onto the table angrily while another swept the coins towards him with a face-splitting grin.

          A flash of annoyance flitted across Orion's face, and he pressed a finger on the bell. A large ring sounded as the men turned to look at them. They muttered amongst themselves before one of them picked up his hat from the ground and trotted over.

          "How may I help you, sir?" the valet said with a thick Greek accent.

          "Transportation to the hotel," Orion huffed.

          "Of course, sir. Please follow me."

          The valet loaded their luggages with a flick of his wand and directed them to board the boat. Once they were all seated, he tapped his wand on the fórcola. Gently, the gondola rose into the sky until the shoppers looked like milling ants in a colourful maze of fabrics. Then, it sailed towards the cave wall over the city of blue domes and whitewashed edifices.

          "I've just realized something," Sirius breathed out with a slightly dazed expression. "We're in Greece. We are actually in Greece!"

 

 

- The Cavern City of Ithaca -

 

          As the gondola approached the cave wall, a faint outline shimmered and revealed a dark tunnel. Without slowing down, they traversed the narrow space at an even pace, with the oil lamp aboard serving as the sole source of illumination. The rhythmic drops of water and faint whistling of wind were the only sounds in the near darkness. Soon, the tunnel opened up to a bright, torch-lit chamber that served as the entrance to their lodging. 

          The Ithaca Cataract Hotel was built into the island's sun-parched cliff, so each suite offered a panoramic view of the stunning Planctae archipelago.

        Entering their room, Turais was immediately drawn to the large glass windows that overlooked the sublime pink-sand beaches and sparkling turquoise sea.  A horn blasted at the entrance of the sea cave below them as a steamboat embarked on its week-long journey. A shimmering veil of light stretched and wrapped around the vessel until it retracted and disappeared in a series of scintillating vibrations. The steamboat then picked up speed and sailed steadily towards the distant cluster of islands where Parádeisos was located.

         In the other direction, a tall, cascading waterfall stretched endlessly from the sky to the sea. However, the waterfall was in fact made up of a churning wall of storm clouds. 

          "Father, look!" Turais gasped.

          "So this is what they mean by the Maelstrom," Orion mused after following Turais's gaze.

          Parádeisos was located in the eye of a perpetual ring of destructive storms. However, Turais had not appreciated the magnitude of the description until now.

          "Can we go now?" Sirius whined impatiently. "We can stare at the sea like old people later.

          Turais swung an arm around Regulus and peered down at the city map.

          "Well, where are we headed first, Captain Regulus?"

          "To the peak," Regulus replied with a grin.

          Boarding a hotel gondola, they flew over the steady stream of visitors and landed at the highest point in the city, which also served as its most hallowed ground.

          After a short walk from the entrance gates, they arrived at the foot of the first of many marble-tiered structures within the complex. The temple, with its tall white columns that reached twenty feet high, evoked the spectacular image of the Parthenon. In the centre of its halls was a giant statue of a goddess sitting in regal beauty with her stormy eyes overlooking the entire city.

          "Hecate, the queen of all gods, witches, and wizards," Regulus breathed out reverently. He then pointed at the flickering balls of flames hovering over her outstretched palms. "Her twin flames represent intellect and transformation, respectively. They also act as the weapons she wields to destroy her enemies." 

          Pointing at the statue of a creature in a lopsided crown sitting by her feet, Alex asked, "Why is there a niffler?" 

          "That's Drachma, Hecate’s niffler spirit of wealth and mischief. In the Greek myths, one is never seen far from the other." 

          A priestess handed them a brass burner and directed them to rest the tips of their wands on the incense pellet. A lick of flame burst to life, releasing a fragrant scent that filled their nostrils and wisps of white smoke streamed towards the statue's twin flames. The priestess bowed, and the family returned the gesture.

           Each building they visited had its own functions and patron gods with more than two millennia of history. After a brief tour of the Healing Halls of Apollo, they entered a large workshop filled with intricate and ancient-looking instruments. 

          In the metalcraft section, a bronze statue of Hephaestus and a goblin holding up a hammer together stood tall amongst many ancient inventions attributed to their honour.

          Regulus stopped before a crystal-ball-sized orb and gasped, "This is one of the first astrolabes ever made." He then pointed out the runic etchings where webs of ancient magics were once anchored.

          "Reggie was definitely swotting up before the holiday," Sirius grumbled.

          "I don't think so," Turais replied. "Can't you see how passionate he is about this? That is not something that can be swotted up over a few days."

          On the right side of the room were various woodcrafts, which included a fascinating display showing the evolution of wands throughout wizarding history.

          "Magnificient, isn't it?" Regulus said, peering up at a life-sized marble sculpture depicting Athena, the goddess of wandcraft and carpentry, and the creation of the first wand. "These halls have remained unchanged since the time of Jason and the Argonauts."

          According to history, the Planctae archipelago was first discovered by Jason, an ancient Greek explorer, aboard the Argo. Unbeknownst to him at the time, there was a young muggle named Homer amongst his all-magical crew who later wrote two fantastical epics based on their journeys.

          "Oi," Sirius shouted from a few metres away. "Can we get a move on?!" 

          Regulus and Turais shared an eye roll. On their way to the exit, they passed through the Herb Garden of Circe where a large crowd of tourists had coalesced in front of a beautiful, golden wishing fountain. On the large rocks around it laid dozens of nifflers sunbathing languidly.

          "Oh! I know this!" Sirius jumped in excitement. "This is allegedly the Fountain of Fair Fortune which inspired the tale by Beedle the Bard."

           They squeezed their way to the front of the crowd, where Turais noticed that most people took photos and threw coins from a distance, leaving the paved area around the fountain suspiciously empty.

           Alex was about to pull out his coin purse when Turais held his friend's arm still. He tipped his head at a man walking up to the pool's edge. 

           Just as the man was about to reach into the water, the nifflers went into a frenzy. Before the man could even react, his pockets were emptied and turned out as the army of creatures scrambled away with the stolen coins clinking in their stomach pouches.

          The man cursed and gave chase as the onlookers laughed. 

          "Niffler trap," Turais explained to a stunned Alex. "They come in different forms, but a wishing fountain is a classic example."

          "I reckon he is now forced to make a wish," Sirius snickered before they took a wide berth around the fountain.

          Finding their chartered gondola, they then travelled to the local menagerie, which consisted of a zoo and a carnival, both of which boasted a wide variety of non-lethal creatures. This was the only place where visitors were permitted to interact with the local fauna as Ithaca was not technically part of Parádeisos and hence, did not share the stringent regulations governing the sanctuary.

          They first headed to the aquarium and joined a guided tour led by a marine conservator. Standing in front of an enormous pane of glass, they observed the many different types of creatures swimming leisurely between long strands of gillyweeds. Upon realizing there were no dangerous-looking creatures, Sirius's eyes immediately started to wander. 

          "Gillyweed forests are one of the world's most dynamic and productive ecosystems. Many lower-order species, such as the flying seahorses, plimpies, and lobalugs, are dependent on these forests for habitat and food. However, gillyweed is also one of the grindylows' favourite food sources."

         The conservator then pointed to the rat-like creature with a growth on its back that resembled a sea anemone and continued, "The murtlap is an important predator for grindylows and keeps their population in check. However, in recent decades, murtlaps have been over-hunted for their medicinal properties. Without murtlaps, the grindylow population ballooned out of control, and they started grazing down the gillyweed forests..."

          "This is boring," Sirius yawned as Turais snapped a picture of a dozing murtlap.

          "Don't be rude, Siri. Learning about ecological conservation is important."

          "They should talk about dragons. Those are loads more interesting."

          "Well, if you listened carefully, she explained that murtlaps, unlike dragons, are a keystone species, which means -"

          "They have a disproportionately large effect on the ecosystem. Without them, the Greek coastal ecosystems would cease to exist," Sirius said quickly. "I do pay attention, you know."

           Turais arched a brow, mildly impressed.

           After the tour, they headed out into the fields where several enormous tents were erected. Some were for stalls and vendors, while others were for circus shows. 

           Turais and Alex decided to split off from the group and venture into the amusement arcade. They walked past various carnival games, including the shell game played with three cauldrons, a "prize" potion and two "prank" potions. Finally, they stopped in front of a stall called "Flaming Pyramids", where a trio of similarly-aged teenage girls stood. Turais peered over the counter and saw a steep ramp that curved into a long, flat wooden board lined with orange flames. At the end stood six silver chalices stacked into a three-tiered pyramid and engulfed in bluebell flames.

          " - want to check out the other stuff," one of the girls said.

          Another girl clutching a red billiard-sized object said, "But I want to try one last time."

          There was an audible sigh as her friends shuffled away.

          "Cassidy and I will walk around. Meet us in front of the Wyvern ride in ten minutes." 

          "Yeah, sure..." the girl said distractedly as she retook aim. "Come on. You can do it!"

          She rolled the ball down the curved ramp. It seemed to be heading down the perfect path when it came to an abrupt stop just before the stacked chalices. Then, a pair of eyestalks emerged from the object, followed by a long, slimy green body.

          The snail probed at the blue flames curiously with its tentacles while the girl cheered it on.

          "You can do it!"

          However, the snail didn't seem that interested after all as it turned away and slowly crawled off the ramp.

          "Those are snails?!" Alex gasped. From the scandalized look on his face, Turais supposed that his friend had not learnt about the creature yet.

          "Firetrail snails. Fire-resistant. Loves heat and being rolled around," Turais supplied as the uniformed man walked towards them.

          "Are you boys British? We deal with your coins here, thirteen of those silver ones for ten snails." The worker groaned as he lifted a small bucket from the icebox onto the counter. "Knocking down all the chalices will get you this fluffy unicorn."

          The man wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve and pointed at the giant, rainbow-coloured unicorn plushie above.

          "Want to give it a try?" asked Turais.

          Alex peered into the bucket of squirming snails hesitantly. 

          "Are you certain they like to be rolled about?"

          "Do lethifolds like suffocating humans?" the stall keeper answered. The girl beside them let out another frustrated groan as her final snail turned away from the flaming chalices. "Tough luck, dear. Want one more bucket?"

          The girl rummaged through her pocket and took out a handful of tiny bronze coins.

          "I only have twenty sprinks left."

          Turais looked at the price list and asked, "Excuse me. Perhaps you would like to share the cost of a bucket with us?"

          "That would be awesome -"

          The girl turned to look at Turais, and then, at Alex. The moment their eyes met, her breath hitched before she focused her gaze on Turais determinedly. There was a long pause until she realized she had never completed her response. She nodded hastily as a blotch of pink started blooming on her cheeks. 

          Mindful to not prolong any interaction, Alex wordlessly pushed the snails towards her side in one swift motion. She whispered a quick thank you and turned away. 

          Alex rolled the first snail down the ramp, and it stopped just before striking the target. He gave a stronger push on the second snail, but it, too, failed to reach its target. Turais played on their third try. Feeling the ice-cool surface of the shell in his palm, he rolled to a similar result.

          "I think this game is rigged," Alex muttered quietly.

          Turais nodded. "The question is how? Can you try rolling it again?"

          He watched carefully as the fourth snail, fully retracted into its shell, tumbled down at full speed. However, the moment it reached the flat portion of the ramp, it slowed dramatically as if there was an invisible force pushing against it. Once again, the snail stopped just before it reached the chalices.

          "That was a close one," the man chuckled as he wicked off the sweat gathered at his brow. "The next one will do the trick. I can feel it!"

          A drop of sweat fell onto the ramp. Turais watched as it sizzled and evaporated almost instantaneously. 

          "Of course!"

          As Turais pulled out his wand, the man warned, "No tampering with the snails or the ramp."

          "I'm not planning to."  

          Under the man's watchful gaze, Turais whispered his strategy in Alex's ear.

          Nodding, Alex held out his hands for Turais to cast a spell over them. Then, he picked up the snail and cupped it tightly in his hands for a long while before rolling it. This time, the snail did not emerge from its shell. Instead, it crashed into the chalices and sent all six of them tumbling onto the ground in a series of loud clatters.

          "It worked!" Alex cheered as he threw his arms around Turais. Grudgingly, the man yanked down the unicorn plushie and handed it to them.

         "Do you want this?" Turais asked Alex, who shook his head. Then, he turned to the girl and said, "Here you go, miss."

          She gasped in surprise and muttered, "Oh, I can't possibly -"

          "I do insist," Turais replied with a smile. The girl's cheeks were now in a beet-red colour as she took the unicorn. Her eyes briefly darted towards Alex, and Turais could feel his friend fidget slightly, before she finally sprinted off.

          "How did you know that a warming charm would work?" Alex asked once they were a fair distance away.

          "I noticed that the buckets of snails were placed in the icebox for storage, presumably to keep them cold," Turais explained. "The flat part of the ramp is also heated. Since firetrail snails love the heat, once it reaches the bottom of the ramp, the warmth would prompt the snail to emerge from its shell, halting its movement. The bluebell flames are known as 'Cold Fire', so the snails would prefer the normal flames over the relatively cooler ones by the chalices."

          "And by warming the snail up before rolling, it is less likely to emerge from its shell because it is already warm and comfortable."

          "Precisely."

          "You're brilliant!"

          They rejoined the rest of the family, and Alex recounted what happened as they headed for the petting farm.

          "I can't believe you didn't think to ask if I wanted that stuffed unicorn, Alex!" Sirius scolded. 

          Turais said blandly, "You don't like unicorns." 

          "How very rude of you to presume that."

          "Well, do you?"

          "No."

          Turais narrowed his eyes at Sirius's impish grin and smacked him on the head lightly. Sirius immediately howled and hunched over as if he was in excruciating pain, much to Orion's consternation.

          Suddenly, Regulus tugged on his father's robe sleeve and gasped, "The petting zoo!"

          In front of them was a tall fence that enclosed an expansive landscape of gently sloping hills and idyllic pastures. Parents enjoyed picnics as they watched their young children chase after the creatures around them.

          "Puffskein, niffler, bowtruckle, crup, diricawl, kneazle..." Sirius wrinkled his nose at the list pinned at the gate. "Nothing is exciting here. It's a pass for me."

          "Well, I want to pet a diricawl," Regulus huffed. Nearby, a pair of crups barked in unison. He immediately squealed in delight.

          Sirius patted Regulus's cheek and cooed, "Of course you do. You're still my little baby brother -"

          Regulus swatted Sirius's arm away and pointed at another fenced-off area nearby where older children were waiting in line.

          "Look, that ride is called the Wild Wyvern. Go on that."

          Sirius eyed the winged creature as it inflated its body to the size of a hot-air balloon. With a flap of its dragon-like wings, it lifted a basket full of hollering children with its tail and traversed the ceiling of stalactites.

          "I might take your advice," Sirius said excitedly. 

          "Make sure to check the restrictions, though." 

          "I'm sure I meet the age requirements."

          "No, I meant the one for skull thickness."

          "They don't have that -" Sirius paused as his eyes narrowed at Regulus's smug grin. "Hey! You watch out for the one on… on pettiness!"

          Ignoring his squabbling sons, Orion turned around to ask Alex, "How about you? Is there anything you would like to do?"

          "I'm good with anything, Mr Black."

          "I suspect you have a similar answer, Turais?"

          "You know me, Father."

          Orion sighed. 

          "Why don't you two accompany Regulus to the petting zoo then? I will keep an eye on Sirius." 

          Turais, Alex, and Regulus queued for entry and purchased some creature treats from a friendly lady in a stall nearby. Once they paid the fare and entered the enclosure, Regulus immediately darted towards the pen and tussled with several playful crups. Meanwhile, Turais and Alex picked a gentle slope nearby to sit down. 

          Suddenly, half a dozen plump, fluffy birds popped into existence and landed on their heads. Noticing the group of screaming children rapidly approaching, they flapped their flightless wings and darted off.

          "Diricawls," Turais chuckled at the dazed Alex. "Or as muggles call them, dodo birds."

          After plucking all the brightly-coloured feathers from their hair and snapping several photos of Regulus, Turais noticed a tiny growl behind him. Turning around, he felt his heart instantly melt into a gooey mess.

          "Aww… you are so adorable," Turais cooed at the litter of young nifflers. He handed off his camera to Alex and tried to attract their attention. "Can you help me take a photo?"

          He soon discovered the only way to keep the niffler's interest was by handing it a Galleon. With the golden coin clutched in its paws, the niffler looked up at the camera without additional cajoling. However, the second the camera flash went off, it immediately stuffed the coin into its pouch and slipped out of Turais's hold.

 

 

- Turais posing with a young niffler -

 

          "I fell for it, didn't I?" Turais muttered. "The niffler trap."

          "At least you have a nice photo? The man at the temple had nothing but embarrassment."

          "I disagree. He also had plenty of exercise."

          Alex laughed. Then, he gasped as a ginger-striped feline creature strutted past him with its nose upturned. He dug out a kneazle treat from his pocket and held it on his outstretched palm. The kneazle paused and gave the offering a quick sniff. It studied Alex's face suspiciously as if asking whether the boy was trying to poison it. Alex smiled encouragingly and kept his hand still, which seemed enough for the kneazle as it took an experimental bite. Deciding that it liked the food, it sat down on the ground and slowly ate out of Alex's hand.

          As they took turns feeding, Turais felt a persistent gaze on them. Looking over his friend's shoulder, he noticed three teenage girls sitting several feet away. Upon being discovered, they quickly hid their faces behind a large unicorn plushie. 

          They were the same girls from the carnival game. 

          Turais muttered that he would check in on Regulus and walked away.    

          The crups wagged their forked tails excitedly at the arrival of a new playmate. After spending several minutes rubbing bellies and scratching ears, Turais looked back and noticed that the kneazle had now crawled into Alex's lap.

            It reached its paw up and placed it on Alex's cheek. The boy gasped in surprise before settling into a soft, wondrous expression. Turais immediately raised his camera and captured the candid moment.

 

 

- Alex cradling a kneazle -

 

          Through the viewfinder, Turais saw the girl from the game stall sit down next to Alex, so he immediately busied himself with the crups once more. The girl remained by his friend’s side for quite some time. When she left eventually, Turais walked and sat down in the vacated spot. Patting the kneazle on its head, he said nonchalantly, "Seems like you are quite the kneazle-whisperer now."

          "She's a good kitty," Alex said as the kneazle jumped off Alex's lap and strutted away without a backward glance. Then, he shot the grinning Turais an unimpressed glare. "The girl's name is Lauren, by the way. She asked whether we wanted to 'hang out,' and by we , I think she meant you ."

          "Don't be daft. I am definitely not the one she is interested in."

          Alex pursed his lips disapprovingly. With a sigh, Turais turned around. Predictably, Lauren's eyes were on Alex. 

          "She's looking at you. Go talk to her," Turais prompted, to which Alex shook his head. "Come on, what's the harm in that? If anything, consider it as meeting a new friend."

          "I... well... I'm not interested," Alex said. He glanced backwards awkwardly, shook his head definitively, and looked away without waiting for a response.

          "Stealing hearts and breaking them without speaking a word," Turais teased. "If I didn't know you, I'd have thought you were a heartless bastard." 

          "So be it. I'd rather not lead her on."

          "If you say so."

          For the next half an hour, they watched Regulus chase after the fluffy, bouncing puffskeins and dangle bowtruckles from sticks under the dipping sun. Finally, it was time for them to leave.

          Sirius and Orion were already waiting by the gates when they exited. Leaping forward, Sirius gasped, "The ride was brilliant! The wyverns were darting between the beams like Seekers! But I thought that the basket was not swinging quite enough. They didn't even do a full rotation!"

          Turais looked up at Orion, who was a bit green around the gills, and asked, "How did you enjoy the ride, Father?"

          "As much as one could possibly be, given the circumstances," Orion replied. 

          For the evening, they hired a chauffeur to travel to the lower parts of the city that were inaccessible by air. Accompanied by the sound of the rickety wheels against cobblestone, they traversed the curated shopping lanes and started a long, continuous descent into the bowels of the city.

          The streets turned narrow and uneven before being completely replaced by dirt roads. Before they reached the market outskirts, Turais could already hear echoes of the evening bustle. By the time they reached the heart of the district, the skies had dimmed considerably. However, the bright, amber glow from the towering gas lamps made it seem like the sun had never set.

          The market was bursting with activity. Stalls of all different species crowded every available inch of space. Buyers skillfully wove through the crowd by locating minute gaps and squeezing through. In the distance, there was a rectangular building with several large domes next to a tall structure that resembled a clock tower.

           "Martus said this restaurant is the best in the city," Orion said with a hint of nervousness in his voice as he looked out the window. "It better be worth all this trouble."

          There was a knock on the partition window. Orion slid it open as the chauffeur's head popped into view. 

           "I'll get you as close to the restaurant as possible! But I don't think I can make it through this crowd!"

           "What do you mean?!" Orion demanded.

           "It's the July Moon festival!" the driver said and honked the horn again, eliciting some dirty looks from the nearby shoppers. "The restaurant is the tallest building in the centre of the market. You can't miss it!"

           "We are not walking through this crowd -"

           The driver cranked down the window and the deafening roars of the crowd instantly amplified. He leaned out and shouted something in Turkish with an Italian expletive only to be smacked across the face by a bundle of fresh dittany roots.

           "Stop arguing and drive!" Orion shouted. However, the driver didn't seem to hear him and made a rude gesture at the fish stall nearby. The irate fishmonger waved his wand over his barrels, pummelling the side of the carriage with water and flopping fish. 

           Orion slammed the partition window shut just before the torrent of water spilt into the passenger compartment as well. He collapsed into his seat and started rubbing his hands anxiously. Regulus also extended a hand and gripped Turais's arm.

           Then, the entire carriage started to rock violently as shouts erupted from the driver's compartment. Peeking out the passenger window, Turais watched as the driver was dragged out of the carriage by an angry mob.

          Turais placed his hands on the window and muttered, " Auxilia ."

          The sway lessened instantaneously as the carriage was magically anchored to the ground by the Stabilizing Charm.

          With an adventurous gleam in his eyes, Sirius exclaimed, "Don't worry, Father. Just follow me!" 

         He then positioned himself by the door on the opposite side of the carriage and seized the handle.

          "Wait!" Orion and Regulus shouted at once.

          "You heard the driver. We can't miss it! Come on!"

          The sound of breaking glass overrode Orion's inhibition as he immediately moved next to the door.

          "Stick together. Do not touch anything. Do not talk to any strangers. Turais, take care of Regulus," Orion commanded before swinging the door open. He seized Sirius's wrist, and they disappeared into the swell of the crowd.

          Alex and Turais quickly jumped out of the carriage after them. Turning around, Turais gripped Regulus's hand firmly before the trio started to push through the crowd. 

          The chaotic roar in the market was all-encompassing.

          Large tattered wagons decorated with a collage of local produce were parked onto the street with their owners screaming prices like auctioneers while waving strange plants and creatures as gavels. 

          "Olives!" A merchant nearby shouted as she hoisted a jar into the air.

          "Omnioculars! Two Bezants!"

          "Flying carpets! Hammersmith! Black Carp! You name it, we have it!"

          "Look! It’s a baby phoenix!" Sirius gasped, pointing at a bright, scarlet bird sitting in a pile of fine, red powder.

          Noticing the adjacent spice merchant, a mischievous-looking kneazle hopping off the spice rack, and an empty bottle on the ground, Alex whispered, "It’s a quail covered in paprika."

          "Oh…"

          "You are so embarrassing..." Regulus groaned sufferingly.

          "When they say we don’t use enough spices in our food," Turais hummed, causing Sirius to snort.

          "... The both of you!" bemoaned Regulus.

          After passing through a high-domed passage adorned with gilded Ottoman calligraphy and pierced geometric patterns, they re-emerged under the dark skies and approached the foot of a magnificent tower that was the most famous restaurant in Ithaca. After entering the establishment, Orion looked back at the never-ending stream of pedestrians outside, panting and completely drained of energy.

          "That crowd is insane!" Sirius gasped happily as he swiped the sweat-slicked hair on his face to the side.

          "Orion!" a jovial voice boomed nearby.

          Turais turned around to see two men approaching. One was a large, round-bellied man with a wide grin on his face. Next to him was a rugged, broad-shouldered man in his mid-twenties with the same sandy, pepper-coloured hair tied back into a messy top knot. There was a pale scar that split his right eyebrow cleanly into two halves in addition to several angry, red scratches on his left cheek.

          "Martus!" Clutching his friend’s arm tightly, Orion laughed, "It’s good to see you!"

          "You’ve survived the journey! I cannot believe it!"

          "That makes the two of us," Orion grinned. "It seems like the Greek climate agrees with you!"

          "Perhaps you should consider moving here -" 

          "Gresham!" Sirius shouted as he threw his arms around the younger man.

          "Sirius! It’s been so long!" Gresham chuckled.

          "You have to update me on all the dragons you have treated!"

          "Alright, alright!"

          The two families were guided by the waitress into the courtyard where they could enjoy their dinner under the waxing moon and swaying palms. 

           Sirius immediately scrambled into the seat next to Gresham. As Turais listened to the magizoologist’s account of his time at Parádeisos, he caught the conversation of a neighbouring table. Intrigued, he turned around and asked the couple, "Excuse me, but I overheard that you have returned from the safari cruise already? We will embark tomorrow. How did you find it?"

          "It was breathtaking. The wildlife, the scenery…" the woman said as her husband nodded in agreement. "I hope you bought extra film for all the photos you will be taking!"

          "We also managed to see five of the Big Six creatures," the man replied.

          The “Big Six” was a term coined for the six most popular creatures residing in Parádeisos: winged horses, hippocampi, griffins, chimaeras, dragons, and phoenixes. Of the six creatures, phoenixes were the smallest and most elusive. Sighting a wild phoenix was extremely rare, and most considered hearing its song as a successful encounter.

          "We didn’t manage to spot or hear a phoenix though. The tour guide said our horoscopes did not align with a sighting."

          "That, and also apparently phoenix sightings are more likely when there is increased volcanic activity. There is a forecast available, but we didn’t know about it until we arrived in Ithaca."

          "Oh, I didn’t know about this either. Do you have the chart, by any chance?"

          "As a matter of fact, I do," the woman said. She rummaged through her purse and handed him a folded parchment.

          "Thank you." Turais scanned the calendar for the dates of their cruise. Except for the first day that was marked as “low”, the remaining days ranged from “moderate” to “very high."

          The man whistled in appreciation. "You’ve hit the jackpot." 

          Turais thanked them and told his family about the fortunate news.

          "Of course," Orion said. "I asked Gresham to help us find the best cruise. He assured me that we will enjoy optimal sighting conditions."

          Gresham gave Turais a wink.

          "Trade secrets."

          Tapping his fork against the plate noisily, Sirius demanded, "Enough about this! Dragons!"

          The meal passed by quickly, and as the two families left the restaurant, Turais heard a faint cry of a bird. It was the first time that he had heard the call of a creature originating from beyond the cave.

          "What is that?" Turais asked Gresham. "The songbird. Do you hear it?" 

          Gresham tilted his head upwards as the bird larked again. This time, it sounded softer and more distant. Turais gesticulated excitedly, but the man looked back in confusion.

          "I’m not sure what you heard, Turais."

          "Is it a creature from Parádeisos?" Sirius asked.

          "I doubt that," replied Gresham. "The wards on Ithaca are designed in such a way that the island appears invisible to any creatures. There are also no other islands nearby, so they don’t have any incentive to wander so far away from their home."

          By now, the sound had completely disappeared. With the question unresolved, the two families parted ways for the night.

Notes:

Would you like to visit Ithaca?

Given its geographical location and the permeability of Wizarding cultures across muggle political borders, I intended for Ithaca to be a mix of Italian (Venetian), Greek, Turkish, and North African cultures.

I’ve put a lot of time and effort into sculpting this locale, so I hope you all enjoy it and I would really love to hear your thoughts!

See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-07-02

Chapter 70: The Odyssey

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you for your continual support for this story!

- ravenclawblues 2022-07-30

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


***

 

Beta read by Aeroway.

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY

THE ODYSSEY


 

          Turais barely caught a wink of sleep that night due to the excitement. 

          After a short gondola ride to the harbour, the Black household checked in their luggage at the cruise departure counter.

          "The Argo is heavily warded and designed to keep the wildlife out and the passengers in," the attendant explained. "But in the unlikely event that you find yourself in a life-threatening situation, you can activate these emergency Portkeys." She lifted one of five silver bracelets with the word Parádeisos etched across its polished surface. "Every party has their own unique emergency activation phrase. You can activate yours by shouting, 'I have armpit stains.'" 

          Turais coughed in surprise, and Orion flushed as red as a tomato.

          Snapping on the bracelets, they headed to the gable-roofed dock where Martus and Gresham were waiting. Several yards from the pier was a handsome, vintage steamboat, but there was no visible way across.

          "They don't expect us to swim, surely?" asked Sirius.

          Gresham chuckled. "Of course not."

          He tapped his boarding pass with his wand and flung it into the water like a boomerang, causing it to expand and transform into an arched bridge that linked the dock to the lower deck of the steamer.

          "Race you there," Gresham said to Sirius before sprinting off.     

          "Cheater!" Sirius growled and gave chase.

          The welcoming staff greeted them as they stepped off the bridge.

          "Welcome aboard the Argo ." Looking at their passes, she instructed, "Your cabins are on the upper deck on the starboard side of the prow. You can reach it by going down these stairs."

          "Our cabin is on the other end of the ship," Gresham said. There was a sly smirk on his face as the two families parted ways.

          Every step across the parquet-floored promenade felt like rewinding time. Rattan chairs and tables lined the balcony, most already occupied by passengers relaxing and observing the spectacular ocean view.

          Arriving at the staircase, Turais paused. 

          "Wait, did she say go down this flight of stairs to reach the upper deck?"

          Sirius, however, immediately leapt past him and ran down the stairs.

          "Wait!" Turais shouted as the entire family trailed after Sirius. "Shouldn't we be going up -"

          Turais's words died on his lips as he read the sign on the wall: Upper Deck .

          "I… what?" Turais consulted the parchment that was supposedly a map of the boat. Rotating it, he muttered, "I must be going mad…."

          Searching for their rooms, Turais took a single turn and walked to the end of the hallway before realizing they had ended up at the main stairway again.

          "Do you even know how to read this?" Sirius chided as he snatched the map from Turais's hand. With a single glance, he scoffed, "You were holding it upside down!" 

          "It's impossible to tell which is the 'upside'!"

          Sirius ignored him and opened the second door on the left, which led to a room with a window submerged underwater.

          "Interesting..." Sirius muttered before trying another door, seemingly at random. This time, they were at the top landing next to the bridge. "Wait here…"

          He disappeared around the corner for a brief moment before shouting, "I found our rooms. It's this way!"

          They followed the excited boy down a labyrinth of identical-looking corridors until they stopped in front of two adjacent doors. Turais matched the room numbers on the doors to their passes.

          "How?!" Turais demanded.

          "It's quite intuitive, really," Sirius shrugged as everyone else stared incredulously. "Come on! Let's look at our cabins first!" 

          The cabin had warm-toned wooden panelling, gilded copper bed-frames, and classical furniture, bestowing a period charm that harkened back to the Victorian era. There were also large bay windows and a terrace door that led to a linked balcony.

          "Turais, why don't you and -"

          "Me!" Sirius shouted. "I can share a cabin with Turais."

          Before Sirius could escape, he found himself held back by the collar. Orion repeated, "Turais, why don't you and Alex share a cabin? Sirius and Regulus can stay with me."

          "But I don't want to share a bed with Reggie!" Sirius complained.

          "You can share with me then," Orion suggested.

          "On second thought, Reggie is very cute and cuddly," Sirius declared brightly. Regulus rolled his eyes and grunted in disgust.

          With the sounding of the horn, the steamboat started pulling away from the harbour. 

          Orion went to the saloon for a proper catch-up with Martus and Gresham, leaving the children to head for lunch at the restaurant. 

          "Wait, repeat that," Turais demanded as he hastily took notes. "So two flights of stairs down, then turn towards the stern of the boat -"

          Sirius sighed.

          "Open the third door on the right, walk to the end of the hall, and then up one flight of stairs -"

          "Slow down!" 

          "Why do you have such a difficult time with this?" Sirius asked. "Do you need a map that shows where you are at all times? Actually…" He trailed off as a contemplative look came over his face.

          The restaurant was an intimate, softly lit space with little tables lined up against the row of shuttered windows that looked out into the ocean. 

          The waiter led them to their assigned table next to a lone man in a three-piece suit with brilliantined hair and a waxed, military moustache. Turais watched in fascination as the man sliced his plate of food into perfect, cube-sized morsels.

          After he finished the last bites of his meal, he rose and left.

          Reading from a red pocketbook, Sirius said, "Did you know three hundred and twenty-nine sirens are inhabiting Parádeisos? There are also exactly four horntails asleep right now." 

          "How would you know that?" asked Turais.

          Sirius handed him the book. It was titled, Twenty random facts about Parádeisos: From potentially useful to insultingly useless

          "Found it in the bathroom. Read page 17." 

          Turais read, " #17: There is no letter ‘F’ in Parádeisos, you muppet. Neither is there a 'U' or 'C' or -

          He slammed the book shut and smacked the snickering Sirius over the head with it. 

          "Ah! I see you have made a fine discovery."

          A man with snowy-white hair and a long beard tied in a knot peered over Sirius's shoulder, causing him to nearly drop the book. He smelled strongly of smoky cigars, leather, and ferns.

          "The facts in the book change every day," the man said.

          "Do we know you?" Sirius asked.

          "Name's Apollon. A magizoologist and your faithful guide aboard the beautiful Argo ," the man grinned as he shook Sirius's hand. "We will arrive at the main island of Panchaia tomorrow. The morning call is at four o'clock! Make sure to have plenty of rest -"   

          "We can play games all night!" Sirius said a little too loudly, causing those around them to laugh.

           After dinner, Sirius stayed true to his words and dragged them into playing card games well into the night. Thankfully, they were rescued by Gresham minutes before midnight.

          "Creatures are most active at twilight," he said sternly. "You don't want to miss the dawn viewing tomorrow." 

          Barely a minute later, everyone was in bed and drifting off to sleep.

 

***

 

          Turais jolted at the sharp trills piercing through his eardrums. 

          "Alex, turn it off, please..." 

          When there was no movement, he creaked an eye open and flung a pillow at Alex's head. There was a tired grunt followed by an audible click that ended the alarm. As Turais thought he could relax, the fireplace roared to life.

          "Good morning, Master Fawley and Master Turais Black," the woman chirped in an irritably solicitous voice.

          "Alex!" Turais shouted almost pleadingly before burrowing himself deeper into the warm cocoon of blankets. Alex grumbled under his breath before shuffling across the room.

          "Refreshments? Sure… Just the regular… Uh… Balcony, I suppose… Thank you."   

          With the end of the call, the room finally plunged into a blessed silence again.

          "Five more minutes…." Turais croaked to no one in particular. Feeling as if he had just closed his eyes, he was immediately shaken awake again by Alex. He forced his eyelids open and gave Alex the most severe glare he could muster. "I said five minutes!"   

          "It's been twenty minutes already," Alex replied dryly. "Also, there are refreshments."

          Draped in blankets, Turais staggered onto the balcony and joined Alex and Orion at the table.

          The sun had not risen yet, and the darkness was impenetrable. However, the luscious, earthy scents wafting through the air indicated that they had already arrived at Parádeisos. 

          "They're not up yet?" Turais said with a crackly voice as he eyed the assortment of drinks and a small basket of rusks and biscuits.

          "They're dressing," Orion replied with a stifled yawn. 

          Turais nodded and poured himself a steaming cup of hot chocolate before curling up in the hanging wicker chair. Over the next several minutes, the darkness gradually receded to reveal the riverbanks and the vast, undulating plain. Far in the background were a dense group of chiselled peaks that formed the volcanic cluster where most of the dragons and phoenixes resided.

          A bleary-eyed Regulus joined them just as the sun peeked out over the horizon and flooded the landscape with an orange glow. Then, there was an unmistakable roar of a dragon. The terrace door slid open with a bang as an excited Sirius emerged with hair sticking out in all directions and his shirt half-buttoned.

          "I heard an ironbelly! Where is it?!" Sirius demanded as he peered into his Omnioculars. Despite casting his gaze wide and far, there was no sign of the majestic creature. Finally, Sirius gave up and distracted himself with biscuits.

          Frowning at Sirius's state of undress, Orion commented, "I should submit a request to change the alarm into a dragon's roar."

          Seconds later, Regulus shouted, "Look at the jackalopes!"

          A family of antlered rabbits was hopping along the riverbank, and they stopped and stared curiously as the boat passed by. With a twitch of their ears, they bade farewell and disappeared into the waist-high grass.

         In the distance, a bicorn ground its tusks rhythmically against the trunk of the lone cypress tree that broke the monotonous landscape of the savanna beyond. Suddenly, it tilted its head as the ground started to tremble.

          The agitated river crashed against its banks, and the steamboat heeled. A cloud of dust rose on the horizon, accompanied by the loud cacophony of brays.

          A herd of winged horses was stampeding towards them!

          The bicorn let out a loud snort before running out of their way.

          When the horses were mere yards away from the river, they extended their majestic, angel-like wings. With a powerful kick of their hooves, they lifted off the ground and soared above the plumes of steam.

          "Woah!" Sirius shouted as he leaned out to watch them fly overhead, but his voice was drowned out by the thunderous flaps of wings. 

 

 

- The Argo -

 

          They watched until the horses became nothing more than mere specks in the sky before they left for breakfast. As they headed out the door, Sirius suddenly said with a suspiciously bright voice, "Father, I bought you something from the gift shop yesterday! Happy belated birthday!"

          Orion scanned the khaki-coloured safari hat warily.

          "Sirius, my birthday was two months ago -"

          "You must wear it!" Sirius insisted as he placed it on Orion's neatly-combed hair and tightened the chin cords, causing Orion to make a choking noise.

          "It's too tight!"

          "Sorry!" Sirius sang and loosened the cords before prancing out of the cabin. "Come on. We have breakfast to attend!"

          Reaching the restaurant, Turais turned around and had to bite down on his lip to stifle a laugh.

          The safari hat on Orion's head had transformed into a wyvern puppet. A pair of large, yellow buttons served as its eyes, with pink ribbons forming the beaks and ears. Two miniature wings also flapped in the air playfully just above Orion's ears.

          "What is it?" Orion asked, oblivious to the object lying on his head.

          Turais faked a cough and said, "Something got caught in my throat."

          "Oh no! We must fetch you some water," Sirius gasped and pushed Turais through the doorway.

          The Weavers were already seated at their table. As they approached, Martus turned and barked out a hearty laugh.

          "You look ridiculous, and I love it!"

          Orion ripped the hat from his head and scowled at Sirius, who returned a proud grin. 

          As they sat down, the solitary man at the next table took a final sip of tea. Upon seeing Orion, he walked up to their table and made idle conversation. 

          "Father, do you know him?" Turais asked once the man excused himself. Trailing after the departing figure, Turais spotted another person who was also silently observing the man. She was a middle-aged lady with a long, clever face and a razor-sharp gaze sitting two tables away from them. Noticing Turais, she averted her eyes and walked out in a hurry, ignoring Apollon's greeting of "Ms Irvine" as he entered.

         "No, not personally. But he did approach me yesterday claiming to be the heir to the Thorne family seat," Orion said as he perused the menu. 

         Lord Thorne, a member of the Dark Alliance, was an ailing man of a house in ruins due to the profligacies of his children. Once the vaults ran dry, their addiction to luxury drove them to commit unspeakable crimes. Now, both of his sons were serving life sentences in Azkaban, while his daughter fled to America and was condemned to a lifetime hiding under Polyjuice.

          Purportedly, Lord Thorne was paid a monthly pension by the Malfoys in exchange for his vote in the Wizengamot - the only valuable commodity still attached to their name. And this man - likely a newly-discovered distant cousin of an obscured scion - stood to gain the seat after his passing.

          "What a happy coincidence," said Turais, eyeing the vacated seat thoughtfully.

          "Quite the unexpected windfall for him, indeed," Orion concurred with a huff. "Judging by his conduct, he wishes to play the part of heir well. Proper etiquette, however, is clearly something that must be nurtured from birth." 

          "Ah, yes. He tried to hand you a striped necktie as a gift," said Martus.

          The colours and patterns of a striped tie held very specific connotations or familial affiliations; for this reason, they were never given as gifts. The man had committed a serious faux pas.

          "It bears for us to be polite until the truth reveals itself. As Lord Thorne is not expected to celebrate another birthday, I doubt we will have to wait for long," Orion said as Apollon walked up to their table.

          "Master Black, Mr Weaver," the magizoologist greeted before turning to the children. "Did you boys manage to wake up in time to see the Abraxan herd fly overhead?"

          "It was amazing!" Sirius gushed. "Turais took lots of photos. He can show them to you!"

          "I would love to see your work. There is a darkroom onboard where you can develop your film."

          "Oh, I think I saw it in the directory," Sirius offered immediately. 

          Apollon cleared his throat and said, "Well, we will be anchored at the edge of the plains around dusk near the griffin eyries. You will have an opportunity to get off the boat and observe the wildlife up close! Until then!" 

          After breakfast, the children took the opportunity to explore the boat. Along the way, Sirius dragged Regulus off in a direction and accidentally stranded Alex and Turais at one of the many intersections, causing them to become completely disoriented.

          "This is impossible," Turais groaned as he rotated the map again. "Who came up with such an idiotic design -"

          Turais was interrupted when Alex suddenly pushed him down the hallway they had just come from. 

          "It's her!" hissed Alex. 

          "Who?"

          "Excuse me!" a girl gasped from behind. Alex pinched his eyes closed, and Turais turned to look.

          It was Lauren.

          The girl's eyes grew impossibly large as she also recognized the two of them.

          "Oh… hello… again," she said, sounding slightly out of breath. Her eyes darted to Alex's face for a split moment before asking shyly, "I can't seem to find my way back to the top deck…." 

          Looking between the two awkward teenagers, Turais said carefully, "We're trying to find our way there as well. Why don't you join us?" 

          The next few minutes of searching were punctuated by Lauren's subtle glances at Alex, who remained resolutely silent. When they finally emerged into the warm sunlight, Turais sagged in relief.

          "Well, I suppose we'll see you around," Turais said politely. 

          However, the girl seemed hesitant as she trained her gaze squarely on Alex. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Uhmm… I think I did not express myself properly last time, Alex, but… would you be interested in hanging out sometime…?"

          Turais gave his friend a hard nudge, snapping him out of his daze. Alex cleared his voice and rasped, "I… I suppose that is possible…." 

          Lauren's face lit up at the words.

          "Okay, I'll arrange something! Bye…" 

          She walked away with a small smile and a spring in her step. Alex and Turais continued their way to the end of the row of reclining chairs, where they sat down.

          "You don't suppose she meant like an… an actual date ?" Alex asked numbly after the waiter left with their orders.

          Turais couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "No. She asked whether she could hang on the clothesline next to you."

          "Oh no…" Alex groaned. "I'm pants at talking to girls… or people, in general… What have I done?!" 

          "Well, no one is born good at flirting or wooing someone."

          "You sound like you're an expert…." 

          "Definitely not." Turais grimaced as the scarring memory of dating Cho in his past life resurfaced. Alex's eyebrows arched up in surprise, and Turais closed his eyes as he silently berated himself for the slip.

          "I saw someone briefly. Past tense. Didn't work out. It's fine," Turais explained hastily. Alex wasn't convinced, and Turais snapped defensively, "Look, do you want my advice or not?" 

           Alex fell silent as the corners of his eyes crinkled anxiously once more.

          "Relax… Just go with no expectations. You don't have to kiss or even hold hands. Talk to her like you would if her friends or I were around." 

          "I… don't know, Turais…" Alex muttered when a sudden terror seized him. "And my voice! I've been croaking like a toad recently… It will be a disaster… Oh, I should have said no…."

          Alex swore, catching Turais by surprise and making him burst into laughter.

          Exasperated, Turais said, "Listen, Alex. The first time I -" 

          Then, he paused. 

          Until now, Turais had tried to be meticulous about not revealing anything from his past life. Of course, he had his fair share of slip-ups, but this would be the first time he knowingly offered the information. He had also practically told Alex he'd had a past girlfriend, so the damage was already done…

          Making a snap decision, he said, "Well, the first time I kissed a girl, she cried. You cannot fare worse than me." 

          He ignored the burning heat in his cheeks and soldiered on, "All you need is a little confidence. Now, I assume Lauren likes something about you, so if it helps, focus on that instead of second-guessing everything. If nothing comes of it, then bid her farewell and walk away. In four days, you will never have to see her again. Alright?" 

          Alex fell silent for a long moment before slumping down into his chair. Finally, he nodded. After a pause, he asked, "Who was it? Your first kiss -"

          Turais groaned loudly into his hands, which put a grin on Alex's face.

          "We are not talking about that. And please don't tell anyone, especially my family…."   

          Detecting the intense worry in Turais's voice, Alex's expression turned sombre. 

          "I won't."

 

***

 

          As the sky turned into a rosy hue, the boat crawled to a complete stop next to a tall wooden tower. The Black family followed Apollon's instructions and headed to the promenade deck, where another family of three was already awaiting.

          "The Melchor family. The Black family," Apollon introduced when he arrived. "Do you all have your emergency Portkeys handy?"

          Everyone displayed the bracelets around their wrists, and Apollon continued, "Activate them if there is an emergency. In the most unfortunate case that you lose it, please be reminded that there is an anti-Apparition ward across the entire sanctuary. Therefore, do not attempt it, or you will splinch yourself into delicious bite-sized appetizers for the chimaeras!"

          "Then, what are we supposed to do?" snapped the daughter from the other family.

          "That's an excellent question. You can tell me the answer if you find out!" The girl huffed incredulously as Apollon flashed his trademark smile. "Or simply, don't lose your Portkey."

          Under the curious gazes of the gobbing fish, the group walked across the passerelle in a single file and climbed up the rickety wooden stairs to a small viewing platform.

          As the Melchor girl walked onto the passerelle, Apollon tapped her on the shoulder and added, "Oh, don't use anything that makes bright light or loud sounds either. You will end up dead quicker."

          The girl glared at the man's waggish smirk before stomping onto the plank with a huff.

          An ancient Macedonian oak stood far in the distance atop a gentle hill and crowned the sprawling plains in its bountiful shade. Its branches were curled in a peculiar manner, resembling a pair of ram horns. As a breeze brushed past its leaves, they shimmered in sequin gold under the sunlight.

          "That tree is what inspired the story of the Golden Fleece," said Apollon.

          "There's no ram or fleece?" Turais asked.

          "If there ever were one, it would have been made a quick snack by the dragons, I assure you."

          Close by, graphorns leisurely grazed on the dry grasses, and fwooper birds chirped excitedly from their nests. After a long wait with the griffins nowhere to be seen, they decided to return to the boat.

          Regulus was crossing the passerelle when the sudden cry of an eagle rang out. But unlike a typical eagle, this sound was much deeper and more resonant.

          The passerelle rocked and swayed from the turbulent gusts of wind as five dark shadows descended from the clouds. Regulus let out a horrified squeak and cowered.

          Orion shouted for his son, but Apollon immediately reminded him to remain silent.

          The griffins landed on the riverbank with heavy thuds mere feet away from Regulus. After a glance around them, the four smaller creatures knelt and started drinking from the river. However, their leader continued to stare at Regulus with her sharp, inquisitive eyes. 

          Then, she started stalking towards the edge of the passerelle.

          Everyone froze, not daring to move a single muscle. Meanwhile, Apollon slowly crawled towards Regulus, keeping his sight on the griffin at all times, and reached his arms around the trembling boy. 

          "Do not move," Apollon whispered softly. "She is just curious."

          With her pointed beak mere inches away from Regulus's face, the boy let out a shuddering gasp.

          "You are doing great," Apollon murmured into Regulus's ear. "I am right here."      

          The griffin took a quick sniff and tilted her head curiously. After what seemed like an eternity, she let out a snort and slowly walked off.

          Once they were all back in the safety of the boat, Sirius thumped Regulus's back and gasped, "That was amazing! You should have touched it when you had the chance!"

          "Do remind me next time when I have a spare limb to lose," Regulus growled.

          Meanwhile, Orion and Apollon had a shouting match behind them.

          "My son almost died, you imbecile!"

          "Master Black, I had everything under control -"

          "Let's head for dinner," Turais muttered as he steered them towards the staircase. 

          "The restaurant is the other way," said Sirius.

          "Oh, shut up and get us out of here," Turais grumbled.

 

***

 

           As they travelled further upstream, the scenery shifted. Drifting moss and ferns gave the river a new green cover while trees and hills started dominating the landscape. By nightfall, the dry grasslands had given way completely to tannin-brown forests.

           The boat anchored where two tributary rivers merged to form a larger one. Between them was a triangular piece of land with a narrow rock beach. 

          "You are in for a real special treat. Mooncalves only emerge to dance under a full moon," Apollon informed as they sat on the top deck for a special midnight viewing session. Slowly, the clouds drew apart like curtains to reveal the moon, gleaming high in the sky like a massive white bone-china plate. "It is the July Moon today, which is also the brightest moon of the year."

          Under the silvery spotlight, pale-grey creatures resembling sheared llamas bleated skywards and danced on their spindly legs and large webbed feet.

          Suddenly, a faint tune emerged above the mundane noises, stirring the deepest part of Turais's soul. It was an echo of an echo, but Turais knew instinctively that it was identical to the sound he heard back in Ithaca. And he finally recognized it for what it was.

          "Do you hear that?" Turais breathed out as his eyes darted towards the jagged, volcanic peaks where whips of smoke were escaping from one of the craters. "The phoenix?"

          Regulus immediately sat up tall, eyes scanning the skies with a rare sense of urgency.

          "Everyone, could we be so fortunate to hear the song of a phoenix?" Apollon cupped his mouth and made a bizarre, rumbling noise like he was choking on his saliva. "That was to mimic the sound of a volcano."

          The phoenix's bright voice filled Turais's heart with unbridled joy and peace, and he did not know how long he sat there, enthralled. When he came back to his senses, the sound had long disappeared.

          "I don't hear anything, Mommy," a little girl whispered.

          "Me neither," the couple muttered next to him.

          Turais turned to the others. "You didn't hear it either?"

          They shook their heads, leaving Turais to wonder if he had truly imagined the sound. 

 

***

 

          When Turais woke up the next day, he felt he had travelled to a completely different planet. 

          In sharp contrast with the dry savanna heat, the air was cool, moist, and thick with the pungent scents of vegetation. In the background, there was a chorus of dripping water as it filtered down the canopy, splattering onto leaves and petals.

          Turais stumbled out onto the balcony and saw everyone had risen. However, Sirius was sleeping face down on the breakfast table.

          "You look tired."

          Sirius lifted his head and grunted with closed eyes, "I wanted to sleep in, but someone changed my alarm to a dragon's roar…."

          "You're welcome," Turais grinned smugly.

          "I hate you…." Sirius mumbled before burying his face in his arms once more.

          The dense foliage along the river formed a crowded, continuous canopy that filtered most of the sunlight. Creatures that looked like a cross between monkeys and frogs swung between the vines from one tree to the next.

          "What are those?" Alex asked.

          "Clabberts," Turais supplied. "The red horn on their foreheads flashes when muggles are around."

          An ominous rustling of leaves caused the clabberts to scatter. Then, a large branch came crashing down into the river, revealing a smouldering ring of slime on the stub it had fallen from. A thin trail of flames led to an escaping Streeler snail as the source. Three thin, pale-grey snakes emerged from the flames and slithered towards the shadows, but one of them was immediately pinned down by a neon-blue lizard that leapt from the branch above. The frost salamander swallowed the ashwinder in one large gulp. Then, it let out a burp and extinguished the flames with a swipe of its icy tail before scurrying off.

          There was a knock on the door, and Alex offered to take it. Turais peeked around the corner when he heard a hushed conversation and saw Alex standing at the doorway with Lauren on the other side.

          He feigned ignorance when Alex returned to the balcony, looking jittery.

          "Who was it?" Sirius asked.

          "Just a friend."

          Sirius shrugged and let out a loud yawn.

          "I'm going to catch a bit more sleep," he announced before walking off. 

          When they returned to the privacy of their cabin, Turais asked Alex, "Did Lauren confirm a time?"

          Alex's shoulders tensed. 

          "She… She asked me to meet her at the promenade deck for breakfast."

          Alex looked conflicted.

          "You're not thinking of standing her up, are you?"

          "I suppose that wouldn't be polite…."

          "No, it wouldn't be," Turais agreed and walked over to the robe closet. "Now! Let's choose something smart for you to wear -" 

          There was a loud snore that sounded below him. Pushing the clothes out the way, Turais found a suspicious pile of clothes gathered at the corner, and buried beneath it was -

          "Sirius!" Turais gave the boy in pyjamas a quick tap with his foot.

          The boy slowly blinked awake. "Huh?"

          "Why did you sneak into our wardrobe?" Turais demanded.

          Sirius eyed his surroundings in confusion, but it only lasted for a second before he flushed red in realization. 

          "Nothing!" Sirius shouted before scrambling onto his feet.

          Turais watched Sirius dart out of the cabin and commented dryly, "I bet all my Galleons he was trying to scare me as payback for the alarm." 

          Ultimately, Alex settled on a simple white buttoned-up shirt and a pair of navy-blue trousers. After getting dressed, he started pacing around the room with a nervous energy that placed Turais at his wit's end.

          "It's going to be fine!" Turais said for seemingly the hundredth time. Alex ran his hand through his slightly quiffed-up hair worriedly. "Stop toying with your hair! And you should leave now if you don't want to be late!" 

          Alex immediately retracted his fingers, looking abashed. He heaved a sigh and gave himself a final look-over in the vanity mirror. Then, he flashed Turais a nervous grin before walking out.           

          "Where is Alex?" Sirius wondered as the Black family walked to the restaurant a few minutes later.

          "He is meeting up with someone," replied Turais.

          "Is it a girl?" Regulus asked. Turais nodded. "So, he is on a date?" Turais gave a noncommittal shrug, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Orion's brows furrow. "Right…" 

          "So, where's your date?" Sirius cooed and smacked his lips in a kissing manner. Turais slapped his hand over Sirius's mouth and pushed him away.

          "I don't have one, and I don't care to have one."

          Regulus snorted, and Turais gave him a stern glare, daring him to contradict him. Regulus wisely remained silent.

 

***

 

          As the boat made its way to the next destination - a manticore lair - the forest turned ever wilder, with crooked trees enclosing them so tightly that Turais could simply lift his arm and feel the bark under his fingers. 

         The gas lamps and spotlights aboard the Argo flickered on in the darkness. Along the promenade, the Black brothers encountered Gresham and Apollon. 

          "What are you doing?" Sirius asked, watching Gresham lean out over the railing and armed with a huge net. Next to them was a glass jar containing several fireflies. Sirius crouched and gasped, "They're the size of my fist!"

          "Our winged friends are what power the spotlights," Apollon said as he tapped the jar with his hand. The fireflies buzzed in a frenzy and started glowing like torches. "We're trying to capture a few more as reserve power."

          Gresham eyed the dots of light dancing in the distance and readied his net. With a quick wave and twirl, he caught a pair and released them into the jar.

          "I thought the wards did not allow any living creatures to pass through," said Regulus.

          "That is correct, but I have dampened them to allow creatures under a certain size to pass," Apollon explained.

          "But aren't the creatures in Parádeisos protected?" said Regulus.

          "You're a curious little one, aren't you?" Apollon said, which made Regulus bristle. "I have a special permit, and they will be released once we leave these parts."

          The brothers continued on their way, eventually finding the darkroom to develop Turais's photos. Due to the copious number of pictures to be processed, by the time they re-emerged from the darkroom, it was already time for the manticore viewing session.

          Travelling through the hallways, they discovered Ms Irvine standing outside a cabin door.

          "Ms Irvine," Turais greeted as the woman retracted her hand from the door handle.

          The woman drew herself up and nodded curtly before walking off.

          "That was Mr Thorne's room," Regulus whispered as they continued their journey to the top deck.

          "How do you know?" asked Turais.

          "I saw the two standing at exactly the same spot yesterday," Regulus revealed. "I think I caught them during their noontime tryst." 

          "And how did you wind up there?" asked Sirius. 

          "Well, not everyone has a knack for navigating this labyrinth like you do," Regulus bit out defensively. 

           When they reached the top deck, Alex was sitting alone at their usual spot. Immediately, Turais dragged him to a small nook and far away from his brothers' prying ears.

          "How was the date?" 

          "We talked…" Alex muttered, but then he bit on his lips and hesitated. "She's... nice and all, but… I'm not interested in her..."

          "That's fine," Turais said quickly. With a sigh, he admitted, "I'm glad you gave it a chance. Perhaps it's unsolicited, but sometimes… I worry that Jonty and I are your only friends..."

          "I don't mind..."

          "Do tell me if I am meddling too much." 

          "You were a bit…" Alex said. "But I appreciate it because it means you care. And I… I still cannot fathom why she would be interested in me in the first place. In the end, she even thanked me for the date and gave me a kiss..."

          Turais chuckled. "Jonty will have a field day if he knew. But I'm glad you parted on amicable terms. And I suppose you did better than me on that score. Loads better." 

          Alex nodded readily. 

          "When she left, she was definitely not crying." 

          Turais couldn't help but huff out an incredulous laugh as Alex's face split into a wide grin. 

          Suddenly, all the gas lamps switched off as an amber light started stretching its way across the parquet floor. Then, they saw the ruby-red sun for the first time in hours as it dipped below the horizon. They returned to their seats and watched the river widen into a teardrop-shaped lake. Encircling it was a veritable orchard of palm trees with ripe fruits dangling enticingly from their branches. The air was filled with nectar-sweet scents entangled with whiffs of mint and pine.

          There was not a single sound in the shimmering emptiness as even the wind fell silent. It felt like they had trespassed into a monastery within the clamorous forest.

          Soon, the sun disappeared completely, and the diminished blue-tinted moon rose to take its place. The waters around the boat were brimming with bioluminescence, like a bed of sapphires and emeralds trapped beneath its polished surface. However, the light stopped several feet before the edge of the water as if there was an invisible boundary dividing the lake into two halves.

          "That is the shadow of the manticore," Apollon explained with a hushed whisper.

          "Shadow?" someone asked. "Then where is the manticore?"

          "Glad you asked." Apollon pointed his wand towards the moon. " Expecto Patronum! "

          A silvery monkey leapt from the tip of his wand and landed on the unilluminated section of the lake. It pranced around for a minute before flickering out.

          Immediately after the patronus disappeared, a long, scaly appendage arched out from the dense foliage and plunged its pincer into the dark waters with a thunderous snap.

          The passengers gasped in shock and awe as the pincer slowly retracted into the darkness.

          "The shadow is the furthest a manticore queen can reach to attack her prey," Apollon explained as the forest filled with an unsettling series of clicking sounds. "The queen is the only adult and remains in the deepest part of the pit. Her children are born to perform specific tasks. Some are foragers, others…." Apollon summoned another patronus from his wand. It danced along the edge of the lake, revealing an army of miniature crab-like insects. Their pincers were held high above their heads in an attack position. "... act as defenders. But do not fret. They cannot swim. We are safe here."

          Once the light disappeared, the pincer shot out from the darkness and struck again. Then, an irritated roar echoed through the air and caused the ground to tremble.

          "And we should leave now," said Apollon as the boat reversed out of the lake back into the tree tunnel.

          "What? Already?" Sirius asked.

          "Never trick the same manticore thrice!"

 

***

 

          By the following day, the boat had returned to the tamer parts of the forest. During breakfast, Apollon stopped by their table when he made his usual rounds and invited them to visit the bridge.

          "A special tour for Gresham's guests of honour," Apollon whispered with a wink.

          On their way to the bridge, they passed by the lobby where the bulletin board caught Turais's attention. Beside the weather forecast - sunny with a chance of flaming pebbles - was the daily sighting forecast. Dragons were rated a " surer than death " while phoenixes were at a paltry " I'll be blowed! " Nonetheless, it was a significant step-up from the dismal " I'll eat my hat! " rating shown for the past few days.

          Sirius suddenly darted ahead and disappeared around the corner. When Turais reached the top landing, the younger boy jumped out and shouted, " Boo!

          "Try again," Turais said blandly and pinched Sirius's cheek.

          The bridge was an office lined with filing cabinets, intricate instruments, and panels of switches. At the front of the room, an old-fashioned spoked wheel was rotating on its own while Simon, the helmsman, peered into several large concave glasses that contained images of faraway mountains and forests. 

          The trill of a candlestick telephone sounded at the corner. Apollon walked over to the side table and held the brass cup to his ear. 

          "Ulysses, what's the news? Chimaeras on the left bank of the Styx?" Apollon repeated into the mouthpiece as Sirius gasped excitedly. "We will be there in an hour."

          Apollon hung the receiver back on the mantle and hurried over to the large table in the centre of the room. With a wave of his wand, various parts of the table rose and sank in an elaborate fashion to form a three-dimensional map of the archipelago. To the east were the flat, featureless grass plains. Far in the west was an isolated cluster of volcanoes on a separate island. Sitting squarely in the centre was a huge swath of forests with an intricate web of grooves depicting the water basin. Wisps of steam appeared between the miniature tree models, guiding their eyes to a wooden replica of the Argo.

          "A fellow guide notified me that they spotted a pride of chimaeras near the gorges," Apollon explained, hovering his finger above the eastern edge of the island where several vicious-looking beasts were leaping across topographical relief lines. "We will change course and head there at once."

          Simon wandered over and watched as Apollon traced the modified route with his wand.

          "Let's make my girl fly!" 

          "Aye," Simon grunted and took control of the wheel. At the upcoming fork in the river, he steered the boat to the right.

           Apollon's voice rang out with a Sonorus as he told all the passengers to return to their rooms and away from any ledges or balconies.

           Gradually, the river's speed increased as whitecaps started to surge chaotically around them. On the table, the wooden boat piece was headed directly toward a model of a tumbling waterfall.

          "Hang on tight!" Apollon shouted as he cranked a lever.

          The room tilted on its axis. There was a brief moment of suspended silence and weightlessness as the boat tipped over the jagged edge of the cliff. 

          Then, a loud whirring noise filled the room, followed by an ear-splitting groan of metallic gears as two giant propellers emerged from the stern of the ship. Large brass cogs along the walls started turning in syncopation, and several linen-wrapped metal beams shot outwards from the sides of the hull. Once fully extended, the sails quickly unfurled and stretched the ropes taut, creating giant wings resembling a bat. A dark shadow descended upon the bridge and dimmed the entire top deck. Turais saw a white ceiling that made up the underside of an enormous, contoured balloon. 

          The Argo had transformed into an airship.

          Orion glanced around, bewildered before fury gripped his face. "This was not mentioned in the brochures -"

          "This beauty has some very special tricks up her sleeve," Apollon grinned and patted the hull fondly. "She is why I'm the best guide in Parádeisos."

          Gesturing above their heads, Orion hissed, "Your ship looks like a giant dragon egg inside a floating nest! As we're flying through dragon territory!" 

          "Relax!" Apollon sighed exasperatedly. He pointed at a turret where the steamboat funnel was and said, "The Argo is equipped with an air cannon -" 

          Suddenly, a tell-tale flap of wings made everybody snap alert.

          A fully-grown dragon with obsidian scales emerged from the clouds and started circling menacingly overhead. It let out a thunderous roar and greedily focused its slitted yellow eyes on the balloon. Without warning, it swooped down and tried to snatch it with its claws, but it failed to penetrate the wards. Irritated, the creature slammed its wing against the barrier and caused the entire ship to shudder.

          "I told you!" Orion growled as he stalked forward, his eyes flashing murderously.

          "Simon, hold back Papa Horntail while I handle the mama! I cannot have two things breathing fire down my neck at the same time!" 

          Apollon shoved past Orion and mounted the cannon turret. The machine whirred to life, and Apollon quickly set aim on the horntail as she made a second approach.

          A ring of white smoke erupted from the cannon. As it drifted towards the dragon, it started to coalesce into a hazy outline of a hare. The enchanted cloud darted in a circle, successfully capturing the dragon's attention, then hopped towards the forest floor with the dragon trailing behind it.

         "Oh, Merlin…" Sirius whispered, still in a daze. "That horntail looked majestic! "

         "How does this suit your fancy, Master Black?" Apollon shouted at Orion, who fumed silently.

 

***

 

          The volcano cluster, once an obscure feature lingering in the distance, grew both in stature and prominence with every passing second. The six volcanoes stood in a semi-circle on a barren island. Oddly, they were all tilted inwards, resembling sharpened teeth and giving the landmark its nickname - the Maw.

          The airship landed on the opposite side of the strait at the entrance of a deep gorge. After gathering all the passengers to the top deck, Apollon asked, "Who wants to help me attract our feline neighbour?" 

          Sirius immediately shot his hand high in the air. "I do!"

          "A round of applause for our brave fellow!" Amidst the polite applause, Apollon threw him a piece of chewing gum. "Chew well. Then take a deep breath and exhale!"

          Sirius followed Apollon's instructions with visible eagerness. When he opened his mouth, a resonant, almost lyrical roar echoed hollowly in the craggy landscape. Everyone waited with bated breath for several seconds until they heard a responding cry. As the ground shook, a pair of golden eyes followed by a massive lion's mane appeared at the top of the cliff.

 

 

- Sirius imitating a Chimaera -

 

         With a single leap, the chimaera landed on the riverbank and started pacing around in search of the voice. 

          "Chimaeras are always up for a fight. Here, we see a young male in action," Apollon said softly. Patting Orion on the shoulder, he slipped a second piece of chewing gum into his hands. "Now, it is your turn -"

          Orion tried to hand back the gum, but Apollon had already walked away with a smirk. Orion turned to Martus, who immediately shuffled away, laughing silently.

          "Why don't you do it again, Sirius?" Orion gritted out.

          "I've done it once already."

          "I don't particularly care -"

          Then, Apollon clapped his hands and shouted, "Orion! Orion!"

          Sirius stood on his seat and continued the chant. "Sit down!" Orion gritted out between clenched teeth, but everyone soon chanted his name in unison. Scowling furiously, Orion was forced to lift the gum to his mouth. After chewing a few times mechanically, he let out a hesitant breath.

          The air was instantly filled with a long yowling cry followed by a high-pitched sequence of trills and meows that sounded like a cat in heat. The chimaera stalked up to the edge of the water and locked gaze with Orion. Then, it let out a soft purr that could only be described as sultry.

          "My piece of gum must have been defective…." Orion muttered with a mortified expression as a flash went off. "Turais, burn that negative, or I will break your camera." 

          "Of course, Father," Turais answered readily. Behind his back, he'd already opened the camera to cast a Doubling Charm on the film roll and pressed the copy into Regulus's palm.

          A horrifying grunt from the chimaera interrupted them. Annoyed at the absence of a mate, it swung its tail against the cliff and sent a mist of pulverized stone towards the boat. 

          Apollon signalled at Simon, and the ship lifted off into the air. The chimaera pounced after them, but they were just outside its reach. The creature released a guttural roar before disappearing into the forest once more.

          "That was one angry chimaera," Apollon laughed before announcing the end of the viewing.

          An unamused Orion walked up to Apollon while Turais led the children back to their cabins. Passing by the lobby, he saw a crowd had gathered around the bulletin board and were muttering amongst themselves worriedly.

          Turais peered at the forecast and saw that it now predicted an inferno. The accompanying ink sketch depicted a hellish landscape with erupting volcanoes and a chaotic swirl of circling dragons. 

          "Master Black."

          Turais turned to find Mr Thorne standing next to him. Then, the man caught sight of the forecast and frowned. "What is the meaning of this?"

          Right on time, a loud explosion ripped across the island. Black smoke began billowing upwards in growing plumes from the rightmost volcano, and fiery chucks of rocks were jettisoned miles into the sky in bright flashes of red and orange.           

          Within seconds, the blue sky had turned completely grey as a lethal rain of molten debris started to pelt onto them with a fury. Most of the fragments glanced off the wards noisily, but grain-sized pebbles and flecks of ashes managed to penetrate through and cover the deck with a fine layer of soot.

          The winds suddenly shifted, blasting them with a scorching heat that rivalled a dragon's breath. Fortunately, it only lasted a brief moment before the winds changed again, sparing them from their fiery plight.

          Several wide rivers of lava slowly trickled down the volcano's sides and burnt through everything in their paths. Then, the volcano started to shake amidst a thunderous rumble. It took several seconds before Turais comprehended what he was seeing. 

          The entire volcano was collapsing onto itself in a massive landslide!

          "Everyone, please remain calm," Apollon's amplified voice shouted over the series of a secondary eruption. "We are a safe distance away from the blast radius -"

          Punching through the noise was an otherworldly chorus of roars. Hundreds of dragons emerged from the smoke in a mass exodus and surveyed the burning landscape keenly. Some of their young dove into the pools of molten lava, splashing around in the remnants of their steadily melting habitat.

          The airship dipped back into the gorge and found refuge in one of the many sea caves that littered the region. Over the next several hours, the volcano slowly reduced into a smouldering mound before their eyes. The explosions eventually petered out, leaving only the occasional growls of dragons and the murmurs of fluttering ashes. 

          With Apollon's announcement that they would stay put for the night, the children retired to their cabins, buzzing in excitement from the incredible event.

          "When they said high volcanic activity, that was not what I expected," Turais said.

          "Did you take many photos? We should develop them as soon as we can!" Sirius said. "I can't wait to show my friends!" 

          As they approached their cabin hallway, Sirius darted forward and disappeared around the corner once more. Turais rolled his eyes and made a show of pressing his back against the wall and cautiously inching up to the intersection.

          "What are you doing?" Alex asked in confusion.

          Turais found an empty corridor, but there was an audible click.

          "Sirius is trying to surprise me again," Turais explained in a whisper. "He just entered our room."

          "Why do you indulge him and his antics?" Regulus sighed.

          Turais was about to seize the handle when he heard a terrifying shout on the other side. Bursting through the door, Turais found Sirius sitting on the floor between the two beds.

          "What are you -"

          Sirius jabbed his finger at the space under Turais's bed.

          "I wanted to crawl beneath it, but… something… something is moving…."

          Regulus shuffled backwards as Turais pulled out his wand and crouched down. Lifting up the fabric, Turais lit his wand and found a large pile of ashes had somehow made its way to the furthest corner.

          Then, something shifted beneath the surface.

          "Regulus," Turais said calmly. "Find Gresham or Apollon. Quickly!"

          He heard the footsteps departing as Sirius shouted, "Watch out!"

          Turais conjured a shield as a burst of sand and warm air were sent in their direction. Once the spray dissipated, he found himself looking directly into the inquisitive eyes of a fluffy, down-covered bird. It blinked at Turais curiously before letting out a silvery, melodious chirp. Then, it flapped its wings and examined the simmering Shield Charm with a tilt of its head.

          Recognition dawned upon Sirius, who gasped, "This is definitely not a quail."

          "No," Turais breathed reverently as the fledgling walked around the shield with slightly uneven steps and tumbled into his cupped hands. 

          The rumbling stampede of footsteps sounded as Orion appeared at the doorway, followed by Gresham, Apollon, and Regulus. Orion scrambled next to his sons and asked, "Turais! Sirius! Are you both safe?"

          "Yes, Father -"

          Orion examined Sirius for injuries before he turned his attention to Turais. Then, his gaze landed on the creature in Turais's hands, and he released a shocked gasp.

          "Is… Is this… a -"

          "Yes," Gresham said, sounding breathless. "It's a phoenix..."

          "But… how?" Orion asked. "This boat is warded so that no creatures can come near it, let alone board it."

          "Well, phoenix ash is not technically alive, is it?" Apollon replied thoughtfully. There was a sense of strict professionalism in his expression that was a clear departure from his usual demeanour. He knelt beside Turais and asked, "Allow me to check its condition."

          Gently lifting the phoenix from Turais's hold, Apollon muttered, "Male. One day into his new cycle. Slightly lean, likely due to the lack of a continuous heat source…."

          Meanwhile, Gresham peeked out the open windows and swiped a finger across the soot-covered sill. Then he scanned Turais's bed and noticed the tiny clump of white feathers and a trail of ashes leading to its hiding spot.

          Apollon stood up and announced, "This phoenix likely rose from the ashes early this morning." 

          "This morning?" Orion repeated. "You mean… it was not from the volcanic eruption?"

          "That would be my best guess," Apollon said. "But before we discuss further, we must first tend to the phoenix."

          Gresham guided everyone to the saloon. He disappeared behind the bar table and returned with a crate filled with a nest of assorted cocktail garnishes.

          "My father will have to do without orange peels in his negronis. Light it up for me, Turais," Gresham said. Soon, the room was filled with a rich, smoky scent of blended herbs and spices. The phoenix probed at a lick of flame with his wing, and, apparently enjoying the sensation, jumped straight into the fire.

          "This will keep him warm," Gresham explained. "The sage and thyme will speed up his recovery. There are plenty of other herbs, but they should not interact adversely."

          "But why would a phoenix be found under my bed?" Turais asked.

          Gresham and Apollon shared a look.

          "We are not sure at this point," Gresham said hesitantly. "But it would be best for us to monitor him for the next few days before we release him back to the wild. In the meantime, he seems to have taken a liking to you. Why don't you spend some time with him?"

          Gresham handed the crate to Turais, who eyed the phoenix and gulped.

Notes:

Which creature encounter would you enjoy the most?

I hope you all enjoy it and I would really love to hear your thoughts! See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-07-30

Chapter 71: Lux

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you for your continual support for this story!

- ravenclawblues 2022-08-20

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

LUX


 

 

 

- Gresham handling the baby phoenix -

 

 

          The phoenix was an instant hit amongst the passengers aboard the Argo. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the rare creature.

          "Truly magnificent," Mr Thorne said. He peered down as the bird let out a tiny cough of smoke. "They make loyal companions to equally great witches and wizards."

          "Does he have a name?" the little girl from the neighbouring table squealed.

          "Not yet," Turais said.

          "Biscuit," she suggested. "I think you should name him Biscuit."

          The phoenix gave Turais a stern look as if to say, Don't you dare.

          "We are not calling you that," Turais whispered placatingly.

          Once they returned to their cabins, Turais stoked the flames in the fireplace and placed the phoenix on top. The creature toddled and stumbled around like a drunken sailor as the children watched on. Meanwhile, Sirius drew up a long list of names and read through them one at a time.

          "Cinders?" 

          The phoenix shook his head, and Sirius scratched it off with his quill. "How about Heatclaw? No? Oldflame, then? -'' The phoenix let out an annoyed trill. "Guess that's a no as well… how about… wait for it -'' Sirius raised a dramatic eyebrow, "Fineash! Ouch!"

          The phoenix nipped Sirius's finger, causing him to drop the list into the fire where it quickly burned up.

          "I suppose that means no?" Sirius pouted while Regulus and Alex snickered.

          Turais continued to stare at the phoenix when a name suddenly streaked across his mind out of nowhere. 

          "Lux?" 

          The phoenix snapped his gaze towards Turais and waddled forward. However, he promptly lost balance and planted his beak in the ashes.

          "Oh no…" Turais gasped as the phoenix flailed his tiny wings uselessly in the air. Unfortunately, in his haste, Turais forgot that he was reaching into the flames with his bare hands. He leapt back only to knock his head against the mantle and let out a painful hiss.

          After helping the phoenix back on his feet with the aid of a Flame-Freezing Charm, Turais turned to find the other boys watching them in bewilderment.

          "What?" Turais asked defensively.

          Alex cleared his throat noisily and asked, "So, is it decided then? Lux."

          Lux chirped in approval.

          "I'm just glad it's not one of Sirius's suggestions," Regulus muttered. "Remind me never to ask you for naming advice. Merlin…."

          "Well, Lux is a clever bird," Turais said as the phoenix nuzzled his palm affectionately.

          "Whatever," Sirius huffed. "Oh, by the way, have you heard piano playing in the music room over the past few days?"

          "Why?" Regulus asked.

          "Well, Gresham mentioned that it's important for baby phoenixes to be exposed to music. It helps them develop their singing abilities or something of sorts. If there's a musician on board, perhaps they can play for him." The baby phoenix let out an excited trill. "You like that idea as well. Don't you, Lux?"

          "We can ask around tomorrow," Turais suggested. "If not, I'm sure someone knows how to enchant a piano."

 

***

 

           The following day, Turais woke up to the gentle lurches of the ship. Blinking his eyes, he noticed the room was still as dark as night. He threw the windows open and was met with a wall of coarse rocks mere inches away from his face. 

           There was a loud chirp of a bird peeking from behind the metal screen of the fireplace. Through his sleep-hazed mind, Turais wondered why he was dreaming about a phoenix appearing in his cabin when the events from yesterday came rushing back.

          He pulled the screen aside, and Lux stepped out in one confident stride. Overnight, the phoenix had doubled in size. Some patches of down feathers had also fallen off to reveal the scarlet plumage beneath.

          "Good morning, Lux," Turais greeted as he scratched the phoenix gently with his pinky finger. Lux flapped his wings experimentally before folding them into his torso. He looked up expectantly, and Turais chuckled, "Not ready to fly yet?" 

         There was a shuffle as Alex stretched his arms and yawned, before gasping, "Is that Lux? He's grown so much!"

          Lux puffed out his chest proudly.

          Turais said, "I'm thinking of bringing him on a walk. Do you want to come along?"

          Alex nodded and quickly wrapped himself in a cloak. Arriving at the top deck, they saw Apollon engaged in deep conversation with his crew as the Argo negotiated the narrow water passages between steep, rocky cliffs. Eventually, the gorge opened up to the open sea and an imposing wall of jet-black clouds. 

          The Maelstrom expanded and contracted like the lungs of a faceless monster. Its clouds constantly folded inwards and swallowed the air in greedy breaths.

          "- the eye wall deviated several miles inwards from the median," Ata, the weather diviner, informed the others. "The volcanic eruption from yesterday dealt quite a blow to the Maelstrom."

          Apollon adjusted the dials of his Omnioculars. "Readings?"

          "Wind speed, pressure, and humidity are all within the normal range," Ata replied as she examined the smoke patterns rising from a burning urn. "Air temperature is on the higher side, but nothing of major concern."

          "And the air stream?"

          "Stable."

          "Bring me an update every half an hour," Apollon said. Turning to Simon, he asked, "Ready to surf?"

          The helmsman nodded. Apollon dismissed his crew and walked up next to Turais and Alex.

          "Stunning, isn't it? What a gentle giant," Apollon said fondly as he leaned over the rails.

          "Why aren't we turning away?" Turais asked.

          "We'll skirt the edge of Maelstrom, where an air stream will carry us to our destination in half the time," Apollon explained. Eyeing the crate in Turais's arms, he frowned. "Let's bring the conversation inside."

          Turais looked down at the crate and found that Lux had burrowed his head under his torso, shivering violently. A sense of panic swept through him, and he immediately covered the opening with his robes as they darted indoors.

          "Is Lux alright?" Turais asked.

          Apollon flitted his gaze towards Turais in mild surprise. "You've managed to name him?"

          "The name sort of occurred to me," Turais explained, feeling a tad self-conscious. "And he seemed to like it."

          Apollon hummed before he returned to examining the phoenix. After a while, he declared the phoenix healthy but a bit battered from the wind and weather.

          "Please make sure that Lux stays warm and completely dry. Otherwise, it could potentially be detrimental to his growth," Apollon said as he placed him back inside the crate.

           Turais's brows furrowed in worry. "But aren't phoenixes immortal?"

           "Immortality does not equate to invincibility," Apollon replied. "Newborn phoenixes are especially prone to enter a new cycle prematurely if they face stressful conditions. That is not a problem in and of itself, but it is theorised that a critical amount of viable ash is required for phoenixes to emerge anew. What happens if a phoenix combusts amidst a violent storm, with its ashes scattered by the wind or dampened by the rain before they have a chance to rise again?"

           Turais paled as he pictured any number of mishaps that could have accidentally triggered Lux to enter a new cycle. Sensing Turais's distress, Apollon added, "It takes quite an ordeal for that to occur." 

           Knowing that trouble was attracted to him like a niffler to treasure, Turais found little comfort in Apollon's words.

           Suddenly, the entire deck was flooded with the red light of an alarm, and Simon's amplified voice announced the Argo's imminent conversion into an airship.

          "All passengers, please clear the deck. Repeat. All passengers, please clear the deck." 

          Amidst the loud whirring sound, the ship gave a quick shudder, pulled back, and lifted off. The Argo jerked forward like a baited fish reeled in by an impatient fisherman. The windows rattled, and the hull groaned as they climbed higher and accelerated ever faster until finally, the ship levelled off into a smooth, comfortable glide.

          Looking out the starboard side, all Turais could see was an oppressive wall of darkness. On the port side, where Alex had his nose practically glued to the window, was an endless stretch of clear, azure-blue sky. The volcanoes and the black plumes of smoke rapidly shrunk until they became specks in the backdrop as if yesterday's eruption was a distant memory.

          As they continued to speed along the air stream, Turais quickly grew accustomed to the presence of the Maelstrom, which remained blessedly tranquil. However, he knew that lethal conditions belied its unassuming façade.

          Turais returned Lux to the fireplace in their cabin to warm up and closed the metal screen to prevent accidents. However, when he returned after breakfast, blankets, pillows, and clothes were strewn across the floor and covered in a fine layer of ash. Next to the fireplace was the metal screen, which was also knocked over.           

          "Did a tornado rip through our room?" Alex gasped. 

          "No," Turais replied dryly as he pointed out the silhouette of a small bird behind the curtains. "Lux, I see you."

          Sulkily, Lux walked out and gave Turais a loud, angry screech.

          "If you felt the firebox was too small, you could have asked to be let out nicely when I came back," Turais huffed as the phoenix glared. 

          Lux's temper tantrum did not improve much by lunchtime. He kept strutting across the table, stepping on plates and brushing up against their faces as if everyone wanted a mouthful of phoenix feathers with their food.

          "So, how are you boys doing?" Apollon asked. "Having fun with Lux?"

          "He is more prone to trouble than I anticipated," Turais grunted as the phoenix let out another round of argumentative chitters. "And he loves talking back at me."

          Apollon hummed. "It is his second day into the cycle, after all. Terrible twos, as we like to call it."

          "Does that mean he will grow out of it by tomorrow?"

          "If you're lucky, it will be over even before the sun sets," Apollon replied. Turais let out a sigh of relief.

          From the corner of his eye, Turais saw Lux hop onto the window sill and spread his wings to enjoy the wind flowing underneath them. He gasped and immediately guided the phoenix back onto the table.

          "That was very dangerous!" he scolded. "What if you fell overboard?" 

          Lux chirped indignantly and turned his head towards Ms Irvine's table. Noting the challenging glint in the bird's eyes, Turais protested, "You can't fly properly yet -"

          Lux leapt over Turais's head with his wings spread wide open. However, his flight turned out to be more of a hop and flap. Misjudging his landing, he quickly found himself inside a bowl with its content spilt all over Ms Irvine's dress.

          "Bloody bird!" she shrieked before storming off in a huff.

          "What did I tell you?" Turais scolded as Lux tucked his tail feathers between his legs, looking abashed.

           After lunch, Regulus asked whether he could look after Lux for the afternoon.

          "What do you think, Lux?" Turais asked, and the phoenix gave an excited chirp. "Alright, then. You better not cause my brother any trouble." 

           Lux cocked his head and narrowed his eyes as though to say: What do you think I am? A monster?

           "From how you were acting this morning, I'm allowed to have doubts," Turais commented dryly. Turning to Regulus, he reminded, "Make sure he keeps warm and away from water."

           Regulus nodded and held out his arm for the phoenix to climb onto. Parting ways, Turais spent the rest of the afternoon sunbathing on the top deck. 

           High in the sky, the scorching sun was encircled by two iridescent rings that refracted light like a prism. As the afternoon went on, the temperature steadily increased to a sweltering degree, and the air was choked with moisture.

           "It's so hot," Sirius groaned before plunging his face into the melting bucket of ice that housed their chilled beverages. Wiping his face with a towel, he said, "I don't think it was this hot even when we were right next to an erupting volcano!"

           Slowly, a thick carpet of blue-tinged clouds gathered at the edge of the Maelstrom. However, it did little to quell the heat or humidity. Finally, Turais gave up and headed back indoors. On the promenade, he saw Apollon training his gaze on the horizon with his Omnioculars, and he walked up to inquire about the unusual weather.

           "Those are altostratus clouds. They form just ahead of a warm front. Did you notice the double halo around the sun as well? All signs indicate that a storm is brewing," Apollon informed.

           "Will it hit us?"

           "The diviner suggests that we should be able to stay ahead of it," Apollon replied. "But storms are unpredictable at best in Parádeisos, so we'll be keeping a close eye on it."

           Turais continued on his way to the darkroom to collect his photos when he suddenly heard Lux's chirp from down the adjacent hallway. Following the sound, he turned the corner and saw Regulus walking into a room and closing the door behind him.

          Turais ran up just in time to slip a foot in the door. Regulus looked up in shock.

          "T… Turais… I thought you were on the top deck…."

          "I was, but the weather turned fiendishly hot. What are you and Lux doing?" 

          Turais walked past his brother and saw a gleaming, lacquered grand piano in the centre of the room surrounded by upholstered ottomans.

          "Is this the music room that Sirius mentioned?"

          "Yes…"

          The doors suddenly creaked open, and Turais found himself dragged behind one of the bookshelves by Regulus. He frowned at Regulus, who returned a pleading look as they heard a pair of footsteps striding across the carpeted floor.

          Turais and Regulus's eyes widened in recognition as Orion sat down in front of the piano, raised one arm, and waved it like a conductor.

          Sheet music fluttered across the room and arranged themselves neatly on the music desk as the lid of the piano slowly creaked open. Orion placed his hands over the ivory keys, held them there for a moment, and started playing. 

           It was a few tentative, uneven notes, but Orion quickly strung them together, and a short melody began to form. His fingers glided across the keys with remarkable finesse and agility that could only result from years of sustained practice. Turais closed his eyes and allowed himself to be swept along by the energetic flow of the music.

          He imagined lightning cracking through the sky, thunder roaring, and the rain pouring. But belying the chaos was a subtle, unwavering constant, and it tasted of bitter resentment. Eventually, the storm came to pass, with only its echoes lingering. That, too, went quiet.

          "Beethoven. The Tempest, third movement."

          Turais's eyes flew open as he realised Regulus had stepped out of the shadow. 

          "Regulus…" Orion gasped in shock, "Turais… I -"

          Regulus continued to inch forward until he stood next to the piano. Caressing the keys under his fingers, he whispered, "I play as well. Learning to, that is."

          Orion's breath hitched. Then, he patted the empty portion of the stool.

          "Come. Show me."

          Regulus set Lux on the piano, sat down, and placed his hands on the keys. Slowly, a gentle melody rose from the piano.

          At first, the music evoked a sense of child-like innocence. However, as the melody transitioned through delicate retardations and undulating dynamics, it gradually acquired a more contemplative sentiment.

          A myriad of inexplicable emotions crossed Orion's face, but the raw, unbridled sense of pride and awe was the most apparent. Before Turais even realised, the piece ended with a dissonant clash of notes. Regulus scrunched his nose, having pressed a wrong note, and Orion chuckled. 

          "Schumann. Album for the Young," Orion identified. "When did you start learning to play? It couldn't have been before you went to Hogwarts."

          "Last December. Turais's friend, Jane, taught me how," said Regulus. 

          "You play brilliantly," Orion said as Regulus scratched his head coyly.

          "Regulus, that was amazing. And Father, you as well. But… why have we never heard you play before?" asked Turais.

           Orion's expression darkened.

          "It's because I couldn't," he breathed. "No one in the family knows I play piano."

          "But why?"

          "Your grandfather doesn't believe the sons or daughters of House Black have any business learning music," Orion said as he lightly thumped his fist against the piano. "Being an amateur means wasting precious time that could otherwise be used to strengthen alliances. And to play professionally means performing in front of others for their entertainment, which, to your grandfather, is no different than a strumpet turning tricks."

          Regulus's shoulders slumped. Orion patted Regulus's head comfortingly and said, "If you have achieved this level of playing in less than a year, I think you should consider pursuing this further." 

          "Really?" Regulus gasped. 

          "But your grandfather must never catch wind of this."

          Regulus nodded readily while Lux also let out a pleased whistle.

 

***

 

           The next morning, Lux woke up seeming much better behaved. He also grew several inches taller, shed all of his down feathers, and developed two full-fledged wings over the span of a single night. Nonetheless, when Turais walked up to the phoenix, he received an expectant look - a silent request to be carried around - much to Turais's exasperation.

          "I don't think I'll be able to do this much longer. You're getting heavy," Turais grumbled as he set the phoenix on the dining table.

          Apollon walked over just as Simon announced their imminent arrival at their final port-of-call, the Coral Sea off the coast of Sirenia, where they would be consuming an underwater lunch before sailing homewards.

          "Excellent! A few important notes, boys. First, in deference to the customs of the local sirens, we will only be consuming vegetarian meals within their waters," Apollon said. "Second, should the sirens grace us with their presence, please refrain from commenting on their beauty as they do not take unsolicited compliments kindly. Third, Lux must remain on board the ship. He will be taken care of by one of my staff."

           "Poor Lux…" Sirius muttered as the bird let out a disappointed chirp.

           "It's for the best," Apollon said. "Bringing a flame-borne creature underwater is just tempting fate."

            Soon, the boat anchored next to a structure similar to the griffin viewing tower. However, this one stood on the seabed in the middle of a shallow sea. A long, winding staircase led to an undecorated room with a dining table and a series of tiny windows overhead.

           Once everyone was seated, Apollon flicked his wand, and a giant, transparent bubble encapsulated the table. Water started pouring in through the windows, filling the room. Then, gasps erupted as the walls disappeared, revealing the vast underwater landscape. Vibrant colours filled their views with the soft, shifting sunlight bathing everything in a patina hue. A school of fish swam by, reflecting the light off their lustrous scales. One broke away from the shoal and nosed at the bubble, but after determining that it offered no food, it disappeared with the flick of a fin. 

          The floor slowly sank beneath their feet to reveal a coral reef that stretched as far as the eye could see. A ray of light rested briefly on a nearby section, highlighting the oysters, scallops, and other colourful shells nestled within the beautiful formations. A pygmy kraken revealed itself for a moment before shrinking back into its crevasse home, eyeing them cautiously. Next to it, bioluminescent muskrills and dugbogs flickered on and off in a beautiful dance of lights within the shadow of a large boulder.

          A team of hippocampi glided effortlessly, neighing and tossing back their heads as they propelled their sleek bodies upwards. They broke the clear sapphire waves and dove back into the water with an elegant twist of their bodies before heading towards the island.

          However, the pristine conditions deteriorated rapidly. By the end of the meal, the waters had turned into a turbid swirl of sediment. Returning to the surface, they were blasted by strong gusts of wind and the briny taste of sea foam whipped into the air. Suddenly, several hippocampi leapt out of the surging waves and created a glistening veil of water from which a tribe of sirens emerged. 

         They were one of the most beautiful creatures Turais had ever encountered, rivalling the veelas, and were a far cry from the merpeople who dwelled in the Black Lake. Both the females and males had long blonde hair that fanned out alluringly in the water. Other than their pointed ears and their shimmering green tails below their waist, they were completely identical to humans in appearance. 

          Apollon hurried up to the railing and crouched near the water. The siren with a coral crown spoke - a dialect of Mermish - and her voice was as sweet as the murmur of the brooks and the sigh of the waves. However, her troubled expression told a different tale. By the end of the conversation, Apollon's expression had turned grave. He gave her a deep bow, and the sirens disappeared beneath the surface.

          "What is it?" Orion shouted over the wind.

          "The Merchieftainness informed me that the storm is headed straight for us," Apollon shouted back. "And several hours ahead of our forecast." 

          "You said we would outsail the storm," Orion hissed. 

          "I do not presume to dictate Poseidon's whims -"

          An unearthly sound, unlike any creature, reverberated around them as a dark chasm formed in the eyewall of the Maelstrom. Clusters of deadly lightning fizzled and sparked in a magical kaleidoscope of colours, followed by out-stretching tendrils of swirling dark mist.

         "Head back to your rooms, now," Apollon commanded. "Turais, make sure you lock the windows and keep Lux safe."

          The boat fought against the heaving waves to reach a small inlet surrounded by cliffs on three sides. On one of the narrow pebble beaches was a small shack with a wooden jetty that served as a port of refuge.

          The moment they entered the cove, the wind and the waters instantly calmed. However, the reprieve was only temporary as any change in wind conditions would cause their sheltered areas to quickly become exposed.

          "Bizarre to imagine that the weather could change so quickly," Alex remarked. 

          Suddenly, a series of loud rattles filled the room as the wooden shutters strained at the hinges against the challenge of the tempest. Turais immediately checked that the latch was locked properly before hovering over the fireplace. 

           Watching Lux curled up snugly in the flames, Turais muttered, "It's a big storm. We better get some rest while we still can."

 

***

 

          Wind. Lightning. The Maelstrom. Lux. 

          Turais jolted awake with his heart pounding in his ears. Gasping for breath, he reached up to wipe the sweat off his forehead when he felt a sudden burst of water against his cheeks.

          He squinted at the blurry outline of the windows, where the open shutters were swinging wildly with a broken latch on the floor. Magical lightning seared the sky with a flash of white, as bright as day, followed by a roar of thunder that split his eardrum. Next was a green flash and another clap of thunder. Then a scarlet bolt arced across the entire sky, dyeing the green clouds in a blood-red hue. In the fireplace, there was only a cooling pile of embers.

          An angry trill pierced through the roars of the Maelstrom. Turais ran out to the balcony and quickly spotted a speck of red circling outside the window of a lower deck cabin.

         Seizing his wand, Turais ran out onto the promenade as the skies lit up in bursts of purple and blue. Immediately, he was slapped by the frenzied torrent of rain. He fought to stay upright on the violently swaying ship and tumbled towards Lux's location. When he was halfway down the length of the boat, a green bolt streaked sideways and struck Lux. 

          "No!" Turais shouted as he watched the limp phoenix plummet through the air.

          He jabbed his wand forward and called out a desperate, "Arresto Momentum."

          His wand shuddered as the spell fought for control of Lux against the elements. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as he guided the limp bird onto the jetty. Lifting the spell, he immediately darted over in the other direction.

         Along the promenade, he saw Alex running towards him. The boat lurched and sent both boys scrambling to hang onto the railings.

          "Turais, what's happening?!" Alex yelled over the howling winds.

          Turais ignored the question and ran up to the Weavers' cabin. He slammed his fist against the cabin door and shouted for Gresham.

          Alex caught up to him just as the door swung open.

          "What are you two doing out here?" Gresham gasped. "It's dangerous -" 

          "Lux was struck by lightning. He's on the jetty right now!"

          Gresham looked out over the railing and sent forth an orb of light. On the jetty was an unmistakable silhouette of a fallen bird.

         "We will need to be quick," Gresham said. He aimed his wand at the curtains and severed a large piece of fabric. Then, he summoned a lamp from his cabin and tipped it over to douse the fabric in oil. "Follow me!"

         They ran down the stairs onto the lower deck and across the flooded floorboards. Gresham waved his wand at the passerelle and levitated one end across the choppy waves onto the jetty.

         "Auxilia! You know this spell?" Gresham demanded. Turais nodded and immediately cast the Stabilization Charm. He dug his heels into the floorboards and battled against the wind in a lethal game of tug-of-war. Gresham leapt onto the passerelle without hesitation and vanished under the cascade of torrential rain. 

         It was impossible to see what was happening except for the movement of a tiny flickering flame. Then there was a second, much larger flare that erupted next to the first before they combined as one. After several agonising minutes, Gresham returned to view with the flaming cocoon in his arms.

         They rushed into the saloon, where Gresham immediately ignited the log burner and tossed the entire bundle inside. The cloth burnt away to reveal a pile of wet ashes, and Turais held his breath as he waited to see the slightest movement.

          "Come on, Lux. Come on."

          He repeated his murmurs like a prayer while Gresham began casting a slew of diagnostic charms.

          After what seemed like an eternity, the head of a featherless, blind chick emerged. A wave of relief swept over Turais as he finally exhaled.

          "That was too close," Gresham said, slumping to the ground bonelessly. "Lux burnt up just as I reached him. If I arrived a moment too late, I wouldn't have been able to collect his ashes, then…."

          He fell silent, shuddering at the thought of what could have happened.

          "Why were you out there, Lux…?" Turais whispered shakily with tears gathering in his eyes.

          The phoenix rotated his head towards Turais, stumbling on wobbly feet to rest his soft beak against Turais's finger. Lux let out a tired cry before quickly falling asleep.

          "W…will he be alright?" Turais asked worriedly. 

          Gresham furrowed his brows. "He should be, but the next hours will be critical. It is best if I took care of him tonight."

          "Of course." Turais gave one last parting glance at Lux for reassurance before leaving.

          "But why was Lux out in the storm?" Alex asked as they walked back to their cabin. "It was not an accident."

          "He must have sensed something. A disturbance, perhaps," Turais said, taking a left turn instead of the usual right. "And I am going to figure out what it is."

          When they arrived at the approximate junction Lux had been circling outside, Turais realised they were in the corridor near the music room. Suddenly, he caught a slight ripple in the air and stopped mid-stride, causing Alex to walk into him.

          "What is -"

          Turais shushed Alex and pointed out a silk thread only discernible from a certain angle.

          "Intruder Charm," Turais whispered. Just then, there was a soft ping as the charm was disarmed.

          Instinctively, Turais hurried them into the music room and closed the door, leaving only a sliver to peek through. The door to Mr Thorne's room opened, and Ms Irvine stepped out. Her slick hair was plastered to her face, and her dress dripped with water. Glancing up and down the hallway cautiously, she headed off in the opposite direction.

          Once Turais made certain she was gone, he ran up to the door.

          "Mr Thorne, are you there?" Turais asked as he knocked on the door. He reached for the handle and noticed the chipped wood on the door frame near the lock. 

          "Stay back," Turais whispered to Alex as he readied his wand. He gave the handle a slight twist, and the door slowly creaked open.

          The room was an utter mess. Items were knocked over and littered across the carpet, and the curtains thrashed around like a violent ghost. However, Mr Thorne was nowhere to be seen.

          The door leading to the balcony was knocked askew. Stepping outside, Turais was instantly assaulted by the chaotic storm. He took a glance at the overturned furniture and noticed a flicker of red in a puddle of water.

           It was a single feather in the most lustrous hue of ruby-red, bisected by a single, jet-black streak. Turais picked up the feather, still warm to the touch, and headed back inside. 

           The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. A few seconds later, Apollon and Mr Thorne entered the room.

          "Why are you two in here?" Mr Thorne demanded.

          "It was Ms Irvine," Turais said quickly. "We saw her leaving, and I noticed the lock on the door was tampered with. I was worried that you were in trouble. That's the only reason we entered."

          Mr Thorne adjusted the collar of his crumpled dress shirt uncomfortably.

          "Well… I invited her back to my cabin for a drink. But then the balcony door was blasted open by the storm. I suppose she left while I was looking for the staff."

          Apollon held up his wrist to display a thick, golden bracelet. 

          "Ms Irvine did not merely leave the room. She activated her Portkey a few minutes ago. As with the Melchors." 

          "What?" Turais asked.

          Apollon shrugged. "I've seen people activate their Portkeys for lesser problems than a violent storm."

          Giving the room a final glance, Turais sighed, "I do apologise for trespassing." 

          "No harm done," Mr Thorne replied. However, he sent Turais a sharp, penetrating glare that disquieted him greatly.

          "We'll be on our way," Alex said as he dragged Turais away. Once they were out of earshot, he asked, "What was that all about, Turais?" 

          "You saw how suspicious Ms Irvine was when she left the room. The Intruder Charm? The marks on the door frame? I thought she had some ill intention towards Mr Thorne," Turais explained as they made their way to their cabins. "Also, did you notice any goblets, wine bottles, or decanters in the room?"

          Alex shook his head. "I don't recall seeing one."

          "Because there weren't any," Turais affirmed.

          "But why would Mr Thorne lie about this?"

          "That's what I don't understand." 

          Later that night, in the darkness, Turais twirled Lux's feather in his fingers mindlessly and watched as it gleamed in red and gold. Tucking it safely under his pillow, he muttered, "Lux, why were you out there?" 

 

***

 

           Turais did not manage much rest that night. Only when the winds died down, and the seas turned calmer did he manage to fall into a fitful sleep. By the time he woke up, the storm had dissipated, and the island of Ithaca appeared as a dark speck on the horizon.

          The entire Black family headed up to the top deck, where Gresham was watching Lux stumble along the bar table. When Lux noticed Turais's arrival, he let out an excited chirp.

          "Lux!" Turais greeted. "How are you feeling?" 

          Lux flapped his wings, showing that he was perfectly fine, and Turais noticed a thin, zig-zag streak of black across his torso. "Is that from the lightning strike?" 

          Lux preened at the darker parts of his feathers and whined sadly.

          "Don't worry, it looks chic," Turais placated. Lux chirped doubtfully, and Turais laughed. "You're still the most handsome bird I've ever laid my eyes on."

          Turais then crouched down and pressed his voice low. "About last night… did you see anything suspicious -?" 

          Suddenly, Lux's entire demeanour shifted as he started to flap his unfledged wings aggressively. Turning around, Turais saw Mr Thorne passing by. There was a loud screech, and Lux scrambled into Mr Thorne's path in a flurry of feathers and talons.

          "Urgh!" Mr Thorne grunted as Lux nipped at his ankles relentlessly. "Bloody bird!"

          He kicked Lux hard, sending the phoenix across the deck with a painful squawk.

          "Lux!" Turais cried out. Picking him up, Turais growled at the man, "How dare you?!"

          "If you don't want your pet injured, keep it in line, Master Turais Black," Mr Thorne said coldly as he smoothed out his robes. With that, he walked away.

          "What was that about?" Sirius said angrily.

          "I'm not sure," Gresham replied, eyes narrowing at Mr Thorne's departing figure. "But I would never trust anyone that a phoenix doesn't."

          While Gresham checked Lux for injuries, the bird suddenly peered upwards and let out a loud trill. Several bursts of flames erupted midair, and three phoenixes soared over the boat. One of the phoenixes landed on the deck floor and nipped at Lux fondly. Then she looked up at Turais and gave a low, musical cry. Turais was instantly awash with gratitude, but when the feeling subsided, Turais's heart dropped to his stomach.

          "You are here to bring Lux home," Turais said. She nodded as Lux crawled forward to nuzzle his fingers.

          "I'll miss you too," Turais whispered. Giving Lux a final stroke on the plume, he nudged the baby bird on his way.

           Once Lux was firmly tucked under her wings, the phoenix let out a chirrup. The other two phoenixes landed next to them, and they disappeared in one large flash of flames.

          "I thought Lux would be coming home with us," Regulus pouted.

          "This is his home, and we are just visitors… very lucky visitors," Turais said. He tried to keep his voice steady but could not keep the melancholy from leaking through. They had formed such a strong connection over the past few days that, for a moment, Turais thought… for a split moment, perhaps…

          "I thought you had Bonded with the phoenix," Apollon said, walking up to Turais with a rueful expression.  "To hear his song when others couldn't, to be able to understand his feelings, his thoughts -"

          Suddenly, a short, melodious tune - Lux's - entered Turais's mind. It carried the promise that they would meet again someday. The thought loosened something in Turais's heart, and he smiled. Apollon's eyes sparkled knowingly as he patted Turais on the shoulder.

         "You still have the feather, don't you?"

         Turais nodded.

         "Keep an eye on it."

 

***

 

          Arriving at the harbour, the gangway lowered as the passengers stepped off the boat and back into their mundane lives.

          "Well, Turais, I don't think I will ever be on a more eventful cruise," Gresham said.

          "You know me, I'm a natural trouble-niffler," Turais replied as Orion said goodbye to Martus nearby. "Thank you for making this all possible, Gresham. And give my regards to Natalia and Noel!"

          Following the Weavers' movement down the gangway, Turais spotted several stern-looking wizards in brown trench coats walking up towards the boat. Leading the group was none other than -

          "Charlus," Turais breathed.

          "What is the meaning of this?" Orion said as his expression turned hostile.

          "Master Black," Charlus Potter greeted. Then his gaze landed on Turais, and he nodded in acknowledgement. "I am here on behalf of the British Auror Forces to notify -"

         "Consider the news delivered," Orion hissed caustically as he gestured for the children to follow.

          Charlus shot an arm out to stop him. Orion thrust his wand at Charlus's chest and immediately found four wand tips aimed at his face. 

         "Easy." Charlus motioned for his colleagues to stand down. Meeting Orion's stern gaze, Charlus said, "Master Black, this concerns the safety of your eldest son."

          Orion flitted his eyes at Turais and fell silent. Charlus pulled out a battered feather duster and said, "May we discuss this further at your house?"

         Orion's eyes narrowed at the Auror before ordering the children to each put a finger on the Portkey. With a hard lurch, the sunny harbour swirled out of view and was quickly replaced by the grey, cloud-laden skies of central London.

         The front door of 12 Grimmauld Place flew open, and Kreacher bowed deeply, "Master Orion. Welcome home."

         "We have visitors," Orion said stiffly. "They will not be needing anything."

         Kreacher stepped aside to let them pass. When the Aurors walked by, he gave them the most loathing glare he could muster.

         "Since the matter concerns you, Turais, you have a right to be notified," Charlus said. Gesturing at the sitting room door, he said, "But the rest must leave."

         Turais and Orion shared a look before they entered the room. The Aurors were standing in the centre of the room with no intention of sitting down. Orion closed the door behind him and demanded, "What is this matter of great significance that compelled the eminent Deputy Head Auror to grace us with his presence?"

         A woman beside him stepped forward.

         "Hello, Master Black. I am Jemima Atticus, Senior Auror. We do apologise for intruding. However, we are here to notify your family that there has been a recent development in your son's poisoning case."

         "The matter is settled," Orion countered. "The murderers were sentenced, and their appeal suit has been dismissed. The only thing left was -"

         Orion paused as realisation dawned on him. The grim expression of the Aurors confirmed his suspicion.

         "Last night, when Antonin Dolohov, Cyrus Montague, and Brutus Nott were in transit to Azkaban, their transport was attacked by an unknown number of assailants. This was brought to our attention when the transport did not arrive at Azkaban at its scheduled time. All… all the accompanying Aurors were killed in action."

         "The Auror Office is a joke!" Orion spat. "How did you let three highly-dangerous criminals escape your watch?!"

         Jemima bit her lower lip. "We will be conducting a thorough investigation on the matter. I understand your frustration -"

         "Don't say you understand my frustration," Orion interrupted. "You're not the one whose family is endangered by your incompetency. My son has done far more work and put himself in far more danger to apprehend your criminals than your entire office! Spare me the excuses."

         "Master Black," Charlus stepped in and said, "I know this is very upsetting news. But I assure you that we will be doing all we can -"

         "It seems as though your best is severely lacking," Orion bit out, his eyes filled with rage.

         "With your permission," Jemima said firmly as Orion glared at her. "We will be stationing a team of Aurors outside your residence until further notice. They will not unnecessarily enter your house and will accompany you whenever you leave. It is out of an abundance of caution for your children's safety."

         Orion narrowed his eyes at the Aurors before giving a curt nod.

         Charlus signalled for all the Aurors to leave the room. After they filed out, Charlus turned back to Orion and Turais and took off his hat. Holding it in his folded hands, Charlus said softly, "This will likely be the last time I speak to you both in this official capacity, but I would like to offer my sincerest apology for all the distress we have caused due to our mistake."

         Orion nodded, but his expression remained stony as ever. Charlus turned to Turais. "I would also like to offer a personal apology for the accusations I have made against you in haste. I… I still fail to comprehend your actions, but your intentions were not malicious. That much is clear."

          "Noted with care," Orion said, enunciating every syllable forcefully.

          Turais merely jerked his head in acknowledgement, relieved that Charlus had finally let go of his suspicion but still trying to process the rest of the news.

          Charlus waited a moment longer but soon realised he would not receive a different response. He gave Orion and Turais a final nod before walking out of the room.

         Once the door closed, Orion fell into the armchair and buried his face into his palms. Anxiety exuded from every inch of his skin.

         "Father..."

         Orion suddenly snapped his attention back to Turais as though he had just remembered that he was there. Then Orion left his seat and knelt before him as he brought Turais into a crushing hug. 

         "Son... it will be alright. Everything will be fine..." Orion said softly as he patted Turais's back. "They'll recapture them very soon..."

         Turais wondered whether the words were meant for him to hear or for Orion to convince himself.

Notes:

Lux. Piano. Ms Irvine. Charlus.

Secrets were revealed, and plots were hatched.

I hope you all enjoy it and I would really love to hear your thoughts! See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-08-20

Chapter 72: Assumption of Identity

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you for your continual support for this story!

- ravenclawblues 2022-09-17

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

ASSUMPTION OF IDENTITY


 

August 12, 1973 (Sunday)

 

CONVICTS ESCAPE PRISON TRANSPORT, EIGHT DEAD

By Andy Smudgley

Deputy Head Auror Charlus Potter Dismissed

 

During the transport of Antonin Dolohov, Cyrus Montague, and Brutus Nott from the Ministry holding cells to Azkaban yesterday evening, contact was lost with the Incarceration Carriages midway through the journey.

A search party was sent to the last known location two miles south of Newcastle upon Tyne, where they discovered the wreckage and the bodies of all eight escorting Aurors. The three convicted criminals were nowhere to be found.

"We believe this was a coordinated attack by an outside group," said Head Auror Desmond Shafiq during the press briefing. When asked about the potential involvement of the criminals' families, Shafiq stressed that "no stones would be left unturned, and no family is untouchable by the rule of law." 

We have reached out to Lord Montague and Lord Nott for comment but received no responses before print.

Shafiq also confirmed the rumours that Charlus Potter, Deputy Head Auror, has been relieved of his duties. An insider who spoke on the basis of anonymity revealed that it was originally Shafiq who was meant to spearhead the operations. However, the responsibility for overseeing the transport of these high-profile prisoners was abruptly transferred to Potter a week prior to the incident…

 

***

 

          "What is the likelihood Father would sign my Hogsmeade permission slip?" Sirius asked.

          "You'd have a higher chance asking for a pet dragon," Turais said.

          Sirius groaned. "Why couldn't they have broken out after summer? I blame you for this."

          "I'm deeply touched by your concern for my safety," Turais replied sarcastically.

          Sirius crumpled the parchment into a ball and lobbed it at Turais, who caught it without taking his eyes off the pages of Advanced Potion-Making.

          "I don't understand why you are studying for N.E.W.T.s now," Sirius said. "Don't you have O.W.L.s to worry about first?"

          As a result of Orion's heightened anxiety, Turais was not allowed to travel to Harper's home for Quidditch practice. However, he did manage to ask for the boy's seventh-year book list and ordered a set for his studies. Seeing how he had not attended Hogwarts for his final year, he might as well start preparing for the materials now.

          "As you've constantly been reminding us for the past week, there's not much to do."

          Sirius made a sound of disgust. "And your answer is studying ahead?"

          The door creaked open, and Regulus slumped into a chair, dejected.

          "Father still said no?" Sirius asked, and Regulus nodded. Turais gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder.

          Regulus's piano lessons were collateral damage to the Auror debacle as Orion forbade the boys from leaving the house, and the Aurors banned any unnecessary visitation.

          "I'm sure they will be caught soon," said Turais.

          "Not soon enough for it to matter," Sirius muttered. "School starts in two weeks."

          Alex walked into the kitchen and saw Regulus's crestfallen state. 

          "What's wrong?"

          "Bye-bye, piano lessons," Sirius said, flapping his hands like a pair of wings.

          Alex grimaced and sat down next to Turais. A raven sailed through the window and deposited a black square envelope letter in front of him. Alex took out the letter. After a few seconds, his breath hitched. 

          "It's official," he whispered shakily. 

Dear Mr Alexander Fawley,

This letter is to inform you that the Coroner's Court has formally recognised and declared the death of Mr Howard Fawley… 

          "I'm sorry," Turais said as the younger brothers sat up in concern.

          "It's been a long time coming, but to see it… and know that it's truly over..."

          Before Turais could offer more comforting words, an important-looking owl landed in front of Alex and lifted its leg. Attached was a purple envelope stamped with a golden wax seal bearing the Ministry of Magic symbol on a pair of scales.

          It was a letter from the Wizengamot.

          When Alex did not respond, the owl started nipping at the boy's fingers incessantly.

          "Hey, cut it out," Turas hissed as he shooed off the unruly bird. However, it hopped backwards and started screeching loudly. 

          "I'll take it," Alex muttered. With trembling fingers, he untied the envelope and tried to snap the wax, but to no avail.

          "You need to tap your wand against this," Turais explained, pointing out the circle of runes over the seal.

          Alex gulped and did as told. The runes conglomerated around the wand tip and probed it before flashing in an approving green. Suddenly, the seal rotated like a vault lock, and the envelope sprung open.

WHEREAS the late Lord Howard the Second of House Fawley, by whose Decease the Title and Seat are solely and rightfully come to the Heir Apparent Alexander: The Wizengamot, therefore, do now hereby publish and proclaim that the Heir Apparent Alexander is now become Lord Alexander the First of House Fawley.

 

Given at Whitehall this Fifteenth Day of August in the year of one thousand nine hundred and seventy-three.

          "Two Galleons for anyone who guessed I'd be the first to become Lord," Alex joked weakly, but Turais could not even muster a fake smile.

          Over the next several days, Alex received several Gringotts documents relating to the transfer of monies under his name, as well as other official documents outlining his newly-assumed role. The most important one was from Mr Flack, the Wizengamot Parliamentarian. He stipulated that, as an underage wizard, Alex was barred from taking his seat in the Wizengamot, amongst other restrictions.

          "You are allowed to appoint a proxy," Orion counselled. "He or she can attend meetings on your behalf, and you will have a say on all the matters considered before the Wizengamot." 

          "I haven't thought much about this," Alex muttered. 

          "Of course," Orion said. "But remember, you now hold one of seventy-seven votes in an evenly-divided chamber. I'm afraid you must make a decision soon, or else you will be constantly hounded by the press and your peers. I have a list of recommendations should you wish to see them." 

          "Actually… would you like to act as my proxy, Mr Black?"

          Orion blinked.

          "That… would be acceptable."

          "Then let's consider this matter settled, shall we?"

          Turais watched the entire exchange unfold with a frown. When they returned to their rooms, Turais asked, "Are you certain you want my father to represent you?" 

          "Should I not trust him?"

          Turais hesitated.

          "You can trust him. I only worry that he might not represent you and your… flavour of politics."

          "I don't even know what my flavour of politics is," Alex replied. "He will do the job right. He's trained his entire life for it. That ought to be enough."

          "Of course." 

          Alex glanced at Turais and said, "I know what you are worried about, Turais, but remember when you were the British Youth Representative? I… I don't want to… deal with that. Not now. Besides, this would give your father something to do when we are gone, and when he is left with an empty house." 

          "You are probably right," Turais said with a sigh. 

          Then, the deluge of condolence letters arrived. While some were genuine, most were from strangers posing as long-lost relatives asking for gold. A particularly brazen man even sent a Howler with an outrageous demand that Alex's mother owed him a debt from twenty years ago.

          "I don't know you! Any of you! What do you want from me?" Alex shouted as the bright red envelope ripped itself into bits. Realising that the entire household was looking at him warily, he gulped, "I… excuse me."

          He fled the kitchen.

          "I'll check on him," Turais muttered as he followed the boy to his room. There, he saw Alex lying flat on his bed. Turais sat down beside him, silent, as Alex took in several ragged breaths.

          "My mother…" Alex whispered. "She was too proud to accept anyone's charity. So, she worked day and night to provide for us, and we… We rarely had a chance to see her. But she would always tell us: 'If you ever felt lonely, look up. You can always find your family in the stars.' They were words of comfort. I understood that very well, except… every time, I would throw a tantrum, demanding why she was never around. Ashleigh, being the nicer twin, would comfort her and tell me he would always be there for me..."

          There was a quiet sniff as Alex turned his face away. 

          "I suppose they both got it wrong..." Alex gasped, wiping his eyes roughly with his sleeves. "I'm sorry. I know I should learn to grow up and… to stop bringing up this sob story -"

          "No…" Turais said. "This is not something to be ashamed of."

          Alex turned to look at Turais, his eyes sparkling with tears. "What if I never get over this?"

          "Then you don't," Turais said simply. 

          And that was the truth.

          Even after all these years, he was still trying to understand and reckon with all the deaths he had witnessed. While he had considerable breakthroughs on that front, there was always more progress to be made.

          Alex's trembling lips twisted into a brave smile.

 

***

 

          "How's Alex doing?" Sirius asked one morning as Turais sorted through his stacks of photographs from Parádeisos.

          Turais let out a heavy sigh. "As well as one can hope."

          Sirius looked up from the newspaper and said hesitantly, "I… I'm not sure what to do or say around him. I'm worried that I'll make him sad by accident."

          "That's thoughtful of you, Siri. But just treat him as you normally would. He is not some delicate vase that will break at the slightest touch," Turais said. "And most importantly, be a good listener."

          "I'll try," Sirius promised.

          Turais smiled. "So, what's in the news?" 

          "Nothing much," Sirius replied as he flipped through the pages. "Lufkin was convicted of manslaughter, and…."

          "Yes?"

          "Read this!" Sirius thrust the newspaper under Turais's nose and pointed at a tiny portrait tucked in the corner of the last page. "They said that Ms Irvine went missing in Ithaca. Wasn't she on the cruise with us?"

          Turais peered down and found a familiar face looking back. 

TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

 

… an interview conducted with the captain of the Argo, Apollon Beaulieu, indicated that Ms Wisteria Irvine remained on the cruise for six days before activating her personal Portkey. A Brazilian family which returned to Ithaca at around the same time claimed they did not see Ms Irvine in the receiving hall. 

According to the Greek authorities, there was no record of Ms Irvine entering the city through its sole border checkpoint. The British Aurors have since discovered that Ms Irvine had never left her British residency, citing a mysterious bout of sickness…

          The kitchen door opened, and Turais scrambled to hide the newspaper.

          "What?" Regulus asked, scanning their faces suspiciously.

          "I thought you were Father," Turais sighed in relief as he handed Regulus the newspaper. The boy's eyebrows were furrowed by the end of the article.

          "If the real Ms Irvine never travelled to Ithaca, who did we meet on the cruise?" asked Regulus.

          "Her twin!" Sirius immediately shouted.

          "No," Turais replied. "It was Polyjuice! Someone must have pretended to be her on the cruise."

          Sirius frowned. "That sounds like an awful lot of effort just for a holiday at Parádeisos." 

          "Of course it isn't for a holiday," Regulus said. "That person was scheming -" 

          Suddenly, Turais snapped his fingers.

          "I knew it!"

          "Knew what?" his brothers asked simultaneously.

          Gesturing for them to lean forward, Turais whispered, "Do you remember our final night on the cruise? The storm that Lux was caught in? Well, there was something that I neglected to mention…." 

          Turais described his run-in with Mr Thorne and concluded, "If the 'Ms Irvine' Alex and I saw was an imposter, then the person has gone to great lengths to conceal their identity. They must've been trying to find something in Thorne's cabin or even to cause him serious harm." 

          "But what were they attempting to steal? And why?" Regulus asked, to which Turais had no response. "Also, Mr Thorne didn't report a stolen item."

          "Not if it was something illegal," Sirius suggested.

          "That doesn't make sense," Regulus said. "Also, why would anyone bring a potentially invaluable item aboard the cruise? It's not the safest place, based on our own experiences." 

          "Well, I brought my gold Ptolemy chocolate frog card..." Sirius muttered, and Regulus rolled his eyes. "Here's another idea. What if he was in cahoots with this fake Irvine? Perhaps it was all a ruse for them to steal from someone else!" 

          "But why would only one of them escape?" Regulus replied.

          "We don't know whether the imposter escaped or not," Turais hummed. "Irvine's Portkey was activated at the same time as the Melchors'. However, the family did not see anyone with them back in Ithaca."

          "If Mr Thorne was part of the ruse, why would he stay behind on the cruise?"

          "I don't know," Turais admitted as he packed away his photographs and cleared the table for breakfast. "Something about this isn't adding up."

          The mystery promptly took a darker turn when another article appeared in the Prophet on the last day of summer. This time, it took up half of the second page, sharing it with the news of Lord Thorne's passing. 

ALOYSIUS THORNE DECLARED MISSING

 

… during the investigation of Ms Wisteria Irvine's whereabouts, Greek authorities discovered that a fellow British traveller on the same cruise, Mr Aloysius Thorne, had not left Ithaca. After three days of searching in the city, they declared him missing.

According to port entry records, Mr Thorne was seen disembarking the cruise. However, given the discovery of trace Polyjuice - a highly restricted substance - in Ms Irvine's cabin, the local law enforcement has not ruled out any possibilities…

          "I told you it must have been Polyjuice!" Turais said victoriously.

          "So the imposter kidnapped Thorne after we returned to Ithaca?" Sirius asked.

          "No. If the imposter wanted to kidnap him, there'd be no need to board the cruise," Turais reasoned. "It must be something on the cruise itself, or the cruise must be a cover for something. But what?"

          "Murder?" Sirius suggested. Two pairs of eyes suddenly snapped towards him. "Uh… maybe?"

          "Sirius, we saw him on the final day," Regulus said blandly. "He was very much alive then." 

          "I know that. I'm not stupid," Sirius huffed. "Turais asked what a safari cruise was good for as a cover. If I want to kill someone and keep it relatively low-profile, doing it in the middle of an archipelago teeming with dangerous creatures doesn't sound like the worst idea ever."

          "And a second-page reporting in the Prophet is the very definition of low-profile," Regulus quipped.

          "Well… clearly something went wrong for the imposter!" Sirius defended. His eyes lit up as an idea sprung into his mind. "What if… they planned to murder him and vanish his body, but Lux swooped in and interfered with their plan, and… and… then Turais and Alex arrived, so they had to flee!"

          "According to Mr Thorne, he invited the imposter into his room. The balcony door became damaged, prompting him to find Apollon," Regulus said. "What you suggested does not corroborate with his words -" 

          "Unless he was lying," Turais muttered as he reread the article. Then, he pulled out his stack of photographs and scanned them systematically for ones containing the man in question. "All the circumstantial evidence points towards the imposter committing a crime against Mr Thorne on the cruise except Thorne's own words. If we simply take out his testimony, everything fits -" 

          Turais's breath hitched as his eyes flitted between several images in rapid succession. 

          "The bracelet, of course! How could I have missed this?!" 

          He held the photograph of Mr Thorne sitting beside them during the chimaera viewing session. Behind the flustered Orion, the man clapped his hands with the silver bracelet clearly visible on his left wrist. Then, Turais lifted the photograph taken during their last breakfast aboard the Argo. In the background of their family portrait, there was a split moment when Mr Thorne's sleeves hiked up and revealed his unadorned wrists.

          "Maybe he forgot to wear it that day?" Sirius asked despite sounding unconvinced by his own explanation.

          "Not likely," Turais replied as he laid out a series of photographs. "He wore the Portkey every day without fail… except on the last day. And do you remember how Mr Thorne was fascinated by Lux at first? But then he kicked him on the final day."

          "That could explain why Lux acted the way he did," Regulus added. "He wasn't attacking Mr Thorne. He was attacking the imposter posing as him." 

          "So the plan could actually be to murder Mr Thorne! After killing him, the imposter could have taken strands of his hair before vanishing the body!" Sirius gasped. 

          "And then they activated Ms Irvine's Portkey to disguise the fact that they couldn't Polyjuice as two people simultaneously," Regulus concluded. "When, in fact, the imposter was hiding in plain sight all along." 

          "By Merlin, this all fits! It's a perfect crime!" Sirius exclaimed. "Am I the only one getting goosebumps?"

          "Let's calm down for a moment," Regulus said. "Assuming we are correct, what is the motive behind the murder?" 

          Turais stared at the portrait of the man before his eyes flitted to another article on the same page.

          "It can't be for inheritance. They are skint. Perhaps a jealous scion trying to secure the family seat?" Turais suggested, pointing at the article titled LORD FRANCIS THORNE PASSES AWAY AT AGE 112.

          "Well, all I know is that when Father finds out that we spent a week sitting two tables away from a murderer, we'll never do anything fun again," Sirius mumbled. "He's already been grumbling about how the cruise was completely suicidal."

          "I think you need to get your priorities sorted," Regulus said. "We were talking to a killer. A killer! We could have been murdered in our sleep!" 

          The stairs creaked, and Turais shushed them. Peeking out the door, he saw Alex making his way down to the kitchen. 

          "I'll be heading up to my room to write an anonymous tip-off to the Aurors," Turais said as he gathered the photographs quickly. "There's no need to mention anything about this to Alex. He has enough on his plate. Understood?" 

 

***

 

          The next morning, Turais woke up to the loud activities from the ground level. Climbing down the stairs, he saw the Aurors walking hurriedly to and fro in the hallway as they made final preparations for the family's journey to King's Cross. 

          Plates of breakfast had already been prepared on the table when Turais walked into the kitchen. Regulus was quietly eating while Alex had a letter in his hand.

          "Gringotts again?" Turais asked, eyeing the letterhead.

          Alex handed the letter to Turais. "Something about estate transfer verifications…."

          Turais skimmed the notice.

          … currently unable to verify the indicated familial relations between the deceased, or settlor, and the beneficiary….

          The magic of inheritance was designed to eliminate the chaos that might arise from competing claims to the family estate. The laws surrounding succession between a Lord and his Heir Apparent were particularly unambiguous to ensure the prompt transfer of estate and secure continuation of the family line. Such a long delay was… unusual.

          Alex fidgeted. "Is something wrong?" 

          "I'm not an expert on these banking matters either." Turais smiled and slid the letter back inside the envelope. "But you should let Father handle it."

          As Alex returned upstairs, Turais's brows slowly furrowed.

          When it was time to leave, Turais said a quick goodbye to Kreacher before they were all escorted out by Aurors into the weak September sunlight.

          "Are these necessary?" Turais frowned at the four old-fashioned dark green cars lining the pavement, each driven by a valet in an emerald velvet suit. 

          "I told them a simple Portkey would serve our purpose well," Orion said. "But the Ministry insisted on this… pageantry. Most likely to distract from their incompetency." 

          As the valets loaded their luggage into the trunk, Alex's face had turned into a sickly shade of green.

          "Will you be alright?" Turais asked.

          Alex whispered shakily, "How long is the ride?"

          "Ten-odd minutes. Twenty if traffic's heavy."

          Alex nodded.

          "I should manage..."

          The journey was short and quite uneventful. While Sirius marvelled at everything ranging from the bikers to double-deckers to the giant banners on the side of buildings, Alex had his eyes shut and his fists clenched. When they arrived at King's Cross, Alex immediately dashed out of the car and hunched over the rubbish bin.

          "Car sickness," Turais explained to the others. 

          Once Alex rejoined them, faint colour returning to his cheeks, the Aurors marched them through the busy train station in a protective circle formation, scattering travellers in their wake, both Muggle and magical. Under their watchful gazes, Turais casually strolled through the barrier.

          Their arrival on the platform elicited great interest. Several people stared and broke out in whispers about the escaped convicts and their connection to Turais.

          "I am supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Turais muttered. "Alex, would you mind searching for a compartment? I should be able to join in an hour."

          "Of course," Alex said as he took Turais's trunk and balanced it on top of his.

          "Siri, Reggie, stick together until the train starts, alright?" Turais said.

          "Just leave, will you?" Sirius huffed. At Turais's scowl, he smiled sweetly and cooed, "I don't want you to be late, Turais. First impressions matter."

          Turais snorted.

          "Let me walk you," Orion said. The father and son pushed through the crowded platform towards the steam engine with a pair of Aurors.

          "Alex mentioned that you know about the Gringotts matter," Orion murmured into his ear, barely audible above the crowd. Turais nodded. "You must exercise the utmost discretion. And do impart on him the perils of acting otherwise. I am under the impression that he has not made that realisation yet."

          "I understand," Turais said as they reached the front of the train. Orion looked as if he had something to add but hesitated. "What is it, Father?"

          "Just… keep an eye on Alex, alright?"

          Turais felt there was something important that was left unsaid, but he nodded.

          "Then, it's goodbye for now," Orion said. He stepped forward for a hug but stopped himself. Turais grinned and wrapped his arms around his father instead. "I was worried you've grown too old for this." 

          "Never."

          With a final wave, Turais boarded the train and entered the prefect compartment. Several older students were already chatting animatedly amongst each other. Turais recognized several familiar faces, such as Emma Blishwick and Sigmund Notley. The fellow Slytherin in his year was Stefanie Smethwyck.

          "Turais!" He was quickly enveloped in a tight hug from Alice. "You've been made a prefect as well!"

          Frank walked up beside Alice and shook his hand.

          "I had a feeling you would show up, Turais. Welcome to the team." Pointing at the shiny Quidditch captain badge next to his prefect pin, Frank said, "You're not about to lose this again, are you?" 

          "If the will of our Headmaster allows it," Turais said with a shrug. Frank grimaced and patted him on the back.

          The door slammed open, and Lysander Chesterfield, a fifth-year Gryffindor, stumbled through. Seizing a fistful of his curled, ginger hair, he wheezed, "It's Pearson and Featherswallow. They're Head Girl and Boy this year."

          "No way," Frank gasped as the carriage filled with the sounds of shock and disappointment.

          "What's wrong?" Turais asked.

          "You'll see," Frank groaned into his hands.

          The rest of the prefects slowly filtered in. Exactly one minute before eleven o'clock, Clelia Pearson entered with a determined stroll. She scanned the carriage, narrowing her eyes briefly at Turais, before asking, "Where is Featherswallow?" 

          "It would be easier to answer where he isn't," Frank replied to an uneasy smattering of chuckles.

          "Very enlightening, Longbottom," Pearson quipped. She tapped her foot impatiently and waited until the train started. Then she hissed, "If he ever decides to show up, we will deal with him then!" 

          She started reciting their duties and responsibilities with a monotony that rivalled Professor Binn. Soon, Turais distracted himself by observing the rampant note-passing beneath the tables.

         "Every night from nine to midnight, two pairs of students will patrol the corridors, particularly those around the four common rooms and the 'snogging hotspots,' and this knowledge should not be abused." Pearson glared at those in romantic relationships as she handed out a timetable. "A pair will consist of one boy and one girl, each from a different year and house. I have already arranged the pairings and the patrol timetable."

          Frank immediately searched for Pearson's name and pointed at the name beside it. 

          "Pierricoeur is paired with Pearson. Poor lad -"

          "What's that, Longbottom?" Pearson said sharply.

          Frank cleared his throat hastily and turned to Turais. "And you, my friend, are paired up with -"

          "Me," said a sixth-year Ravenclaw as she glanced up with obvious disinterest. 

          "Hi, I'm Turais -"

          "I know," she interrupted. "Eleanor Dorrance."      

          "Pleasure -" 

          "Likewise. I will see you on our first shift," she said before standing up.

          "Dorrance, we are not finished," Pearson growled. "I need to brief you on the train alighting procedure -"

          "When we arrive at Hogwarts, all prefects will escort the students up to Hogwarts and check for contrabands. After the feast, I will bring the students up to the Ravenclaw Tower. My first patrol is Tuesday evening," Dorrance rattled off.  "And I don't care for the password to the Prefect bathroom. Did I miss anything?"

          "Well..." 

          Dorrance harrumphed and walked out.

          Lysander Chesterfield, who was evidently feeling a bit gutsy, raised his hand and asked, "Can I leave as well?" 

          "What for?!" Pearson snapped. She looked positively apoplectic, and Chesterfield cowered back. 

          Turais saw an opportunity and took it. "What Chesterfield meant is that there's a Slug Club meeting. Isn't that right?" 

          "Oh, yes, definitely," Chesterfield replied.

          "Doesn't Slughorn reserve lunch for first-years only?"          

          "Slughorn is trying to implement a mentor system," Turais lied.

          "A mentor system," Pearson repeated.

          Chesterfield quickly nodded along. "Yeah, an older student is paired with a younger student -"

          "I know what a mentor system is!" Pearson narrowed her eyes dangerously before hissing, "Fine! You two can leave, but everyone else must stay!"

          Turais saw Frank give him a secret thumbs-up under the table as the two boys walked out. 

          "I can't believe we pulled that off," the Gryffindor laughed once they were a safe distance away. "Thanks for the save, Black! So, are you headed back to your compartment?"

          "I'll stop by Slughorn's compartment to give myself an alibi."

          "See you around then."

          Parting ways, Turais headed to the back of the train and knocked on the door to Slughorn's compartment. 

          "Turais, m'boy! What brings you here today?" Slughorn asked.

          "I skived off the Prefect meeting and cited you as the reason," Turais said.

          "Ah, Ms Pearson tends to have that effect on people. And I always welcome help from a model student such as yourself," Slughorn chuckled as he gave Turais a wink. "While I have you here, would you like to meet Hogwarts's latest talents?"

          Two first-years were sitting in the compartment. One was a girl with a short bob and cheery disposition. Next to her was a boy with straw blond hair who was doodling on a piece of napkin.

          "This lovely lady is Ms Amelia Bones from the prominent Auror family," Slughorn said, and the two students exchanged greetings. "Her brother is Edgar Bones, a sixth-year Hufflepuff."

          "He's a Prefect as well!" the girl added. "Did you see him at the meeting?"

          "I did, but I haven't had the chance to speak with him extensively yet."

          "You will cross paths regularly from now, I'm sure," Slughorn chuckled. He turned to the other first-year in the room and said, "This charming young man is Mr Bartemius Crouch Junior -"

          Turais flinched back before he could catch himself as memories from his past life surfaced in his mind.

          This boy will become one of the most dangerous Death Eaters. He deceived everyone, even Dumbledore, and successfully brought about the second rise of Voldemort.

          Crouch looked at him with a pair of wide, ingenuous eyes. Turais forced himself to take a deep breath before he twisted his lips into a tight smile.

          "Pleasure," Turais said curtly. Crouch's smile faltered briefly before returning to full force. Turais turned to leave and said, "Well, Professor, I mustn't impose -"

          "Nonsense, m'boy," Slughorn said, pressing Turais into the seat beside Crouch. "You joined us at the perfect time. We were just about to start dessert, and it happens to be your favourite!"

          "Do you like treacle tart?" Crouch asked. Turais shrugged noncommittally and sipped at a goblet of water.

          "Turais's love for baked confections rivals even my own," Slughorn answered with a grin. "And here is an extra large slice for the captain of the reigning Quidditch Cup champions. Be sure to bring it home again this year, hmm?" 

          Turais picked at his food, on edge from being in such close proximity to the unknown factor that was Crouch. There was a tap on his shoulder, and Turais turned to see Slughorn's concerned expression.

          "M'boy, you look a bit pale -"

          "I'm fine," Turais replied. He reached for his goblet and found it empty. From the corner of his eyes, Turais noticed Crouch reaching out towards him. He blocked the hand instinctively, causing the proffered goblet to be knocked sideways. 

          Turais watched the water splash across the table with little remorse as Crouch apologised, "I'm sorry."

          "No. It was my fault," Turais said mechanically. He took his wand out and gave a wave, drying the spill. Crouch largely kept to himself after that as though sensing Turais's wariness of him.

          "So, what House do you think you'll be Sorted in, Bartemius?" asked Amelia Bones. "I think I'd like Hufflepuff, seeing how most of my family has been Sorted there."

          "I haven't given it much thought."

          Turais recalled that Barty Crouch Jr. would be Sorted into Hufflepuff, which had augmented the general uproar when he was revealed to be a Death Eater.

          "Well, the Crouches have traditionally been split between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Perhaps we'll be in the same house!" 

          "What an interesting idea," Crouch replied half-heartedly.

          "Now, I would be terribly disappointed if neither of you ended up in Slytherin," Slughorn teased.

          "Well, this cannot be helped," Bones replied matter-of-factly, to which Slughorn laughed.

          After they were dismissed, Crouch thanked Slughorn politely and headed through the door without a backward glance. The moment Crouch left, Turais felt the tension roll off his body. A sense of guilt slowly crept into his mind, but he managed to shake it off.

          Turais said his goodbye, but Slughorn motioned for him to stay behind.

          "Your friend, Alexander, he is faring well?" Slughorn inquired.

          Turais started. Slughorn had never shown interest in Alex after the initial carriage lunch back in first year.

          "Yes, Professor."

          "Good, good," Slughorn replied. "He's a bright student. I've always thought so."

          Turais nodded, clueing into Slughorn's intentions. "He consistently places among the top of the class."

          "Well, you mustn't hide him away from me any longer," Slughorn admonished jokingly. "Bring him to the next Slug Club party, won’t you?"

          "Of course." 

          Turais bowed politely and left the compartment. As he searched for Alex's compartment, Stefanie ran up to him.

          "Turais! Where were you?"

          "The Slug Club lunch."

          "There was an actual lunch?" Stefanie gaped. "But no matter, Pearson wants all of us back in the prefects' carriage to go over final preparations when we reach Hogsmeade Station."

          "Again?" Turais asked. 

          Stefanie grimaced.

          "And unfortunately, no one is getting out of it this time."

 

***

 

          Escorting the students to Hogwarts proved to be a messy affair.

          "No, you need to board the carriages, which are that way. Only first-years travel by boat," Turais explained as he directed a trio of second-years away from the pier.

          Suddenly, Turais spotted Hilary Hawthorne handing a small vial to her friend in exchange for a Sickle. Descending upon them, he plucked the vial from her hand and took a whiff.

          "It… it's just a cough potion," she protested weakly when Turais promptly discarded it into the bin.

          "It's a love potion. And brewed incorrectly, might I add," Turais sighed. "Did you add doxy eggs instead of ashwinder eggs?" 

          "They said it would increase potency," Hilary stammered.

          "It will only give the drinker severe constipation," Turais said blandly. "Now, please hand me all the vials in your possession."

          After numerous confiscations, which included a crate of firewhiskey, three Fanged Frisbees, several auto-answering quills, and a bag of suspect white powder, the crowd of students slowly trickled to a stop. By the time they rounded off the stragglers, the skies had turned completely dark, and Turais couldn't believe he was ever jealous of this role. 

          Finally, Pearson dismissed the prefects. They immediately piled onto the last carriages, eager to reach the warmth of the castle. Passing by the nervously awaiting first-years, he made his way to where Alex and Jonty were seated.

          "Look at these," Jonty said, standing up to greet him and pointing at the gleaming badges. "At the rate you're going, you'll become a proper pincushion by the time we graduate." 

          "It's good to see you," Turais laughed as he gave the other boy a pat on the back. Sizing Jonty, who seemed to have shot up a foot over summer, Turais said, "It seems that everyone is growing taller but me."

          "No one's perfect," Jonty shrugged. 

          When Jonty turned his attention to start a conversation with Lowe, Turais whispered into Alex's ear, "My father wants me to remind you not to mention your Gringotts situation to anyone."

          Alex blinked.

          "But I told Jonty about it already," he whispered back. "Is it something serious? If so, you can tell me, Turais."

          "No, no. It's just… people like to misconstrue facts and blow them out of proportion," Turais explained hastily. "Let's avoid it from happening in the first place -"

          The doors swung open as Professor McGonagall led the first-years into the Great Hall. The Sorting ceremony started with Arnold Atkinson, a Gryffindor, and was followed by Amelia Bones, who was promptly declared a proud Hufflepuff.

          "Crouch, Bartemius."

          The boy walked up the steps, and McGonagall rested the Hat over his head. Soon, the students discovered that his Sorting would not be resolved quickly and started to mutter amongst themselves.

          "Wherever he ends up, don't cross him," someone whispered. "His father's top dog in the D.M.L.E.. Reckon he'll be made Minister for Magic after next year's election."

          "Crouch Senior owes his promotion to Black. Black was the one who told him to raid the house of his own boss," another voice hissed.

          "Where do you think he'll end up?" Alex asked.

          "There's only one place he wouldn't be," Jonty replied. "Slytherin."

          "Why is that?"

          "His father is famously outspoken against anything remotely Dark. Can you imagine the controversy if he hears his son palling around with so-called 'dark wizard hatchlings'?"

          "It's officially a Hat-stall," a Ravenclaw muttered at the five-minute mark.

          An impatient murmur simmered in the Hall when the Hat suddenly shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

          Turais sat up in shock as the boy made his way to their table. 

          How in Salazar's name did Crouch end up in Slytherin?

 

***

 

          After the feast, the students returned to their dormitories. Turais took up the rear of the Slytherin pack as Stefanie led the front. Crouch paused when they arrived at the intersection where the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins headed in opposite directions. 

          "Crouch," Turais said. "Our common room is this way."

          The boy did not respond and watched the Hufflepuffs with an inscrutable gaze until they all disappeared around the corner.

          "It might not have been," Crouch whispered. Without looking at Turais, he jogged off to rejoin the rest of his housemates.

          Later that evening, Turais spotted Jonty when he was posting a notice for the upcoming Quidditch trials. He quickly pulled him out of the dungeons and into an unused classroom.

          "I think you know what I'm about to say," Turais began without pretence. "I need you to promise not to tell another soul about Alex's situation."

          "I know what is at stake here," Jonty said, sounding a bit wounded. "He's my friend too."

          Turais sagged in relief. "Thank you. I'm sorry for sounding accusatory. Things have been… concerning. On multiple fronts."

          Jonty grimaced. 

          "But you agree that something is off about Alex's situation. I didn't want to raise the subject in front of him, and I presume that you are well aware of the inheritance laws and its technicalities -"

          "Alex is the rightful heir to the Fawley estate," Turais said forcefully. "The Wizengamot acknowledged his accession as the new Lord Fawley. That is indisputable."

          "It is his lineage that is in question, Turais. It has always been. The Wizengamot's proclamation only reaffirms that Alex is the last male descendant of House Fawley. What it cannot prove is how the seat ended up with him."

          "Are you suggesting that Howard Fawley is not Alex's father?"

          Jonty shifted uncomfortably before nodding.

          "Do you recall the news article I showed you about Howard Fawley's disappearance? At the time, there was something that struck me as odd. It said that the house elves suffered from Servitude Withdrawal Syndrome until Alex re-established the bonds of servitude. Servitude Withdrawal Syndrome would never occur between a father and his son."

          "You cannot possibly believe everything the Prophet writes."

          "While I question their journalistic integrity, those reporters would not know to alter such details that only we recognize to be of importance."

          "But Howard Fawley was the previous Lord Fawley. If he is not Alex's father, then who is?" Turais asked, and Jonty fell silent. "There is nothing we can do but let the process play out. Discreetly."

          "And I sincerely hope that my worries are misplaced." 

          On their way back to the common room, they spotted Jane pacing in a neighbouring corridor. 

          "Hi, Jane. What brings you here?" Turais asked.

          Her eyes darted toward the direction of the common room before saying, "Oh, I was just waiting for someone -"

          "Who?" Jonty asked sharply. "And at this hour?"

          "Mind your own business, Jonty," Jane huffed defensively.

          Jonty's expression turned sour.

          "I don't care to know either," he replied before storming off.

          "What was that about?" Turais asked Jane.

          "Can you stop asking me questions and leave?" Jane snapped, looking increasingly frazzled.

          "Jane? Turais?" 

          Jane's eyes grew impossibly wide as Turais turned to find Regulus walking towards them.

          "Turais," Jane chuckled nervously. "Why don't you check on Jonty -"

          "It's alright," Regulus said. "Turais knows about me playing the piano."

          Relief flooded Jane's face as she gasped, "Thank God you told him! I hate lying. It makes me feel like a horrible person. Anyhow, Regulus, I told my tutor about you, and he is willing to meet you for an interview!"

          Regulus nodded.

          "Now, there are several issues. First, he is a Muggle. Since he cannot come to Hogwarts, you will need to go to him."

          "But even if we get special permission from Professor Slughorn to use the Floo, my father won't allow us to travel outside Hogwarts," said Regulus. "He didn't even let us out of the house this summer."

          "There is a second problem as well," Jane said. "If he does take you in as a student, you will need to set up weekly classes -" 

          "Then there is no answer," Regulus replied glumly.

          "There are public Floos in Hogsmeade," Turais suggested.

          "I've considered this as well. But Hogsmeade weekends are too infrequent," Jane said. "And Regulus is only in his second year."

          "Travelling to Hogsmeade is not an issue," Turais said.

          "It's not?" Jane asked in surprise. At Turais's nod, she continued, "Well, then what about… Nott and the others?"

          "They wouldn't dare remain so close to Hogwarts and Dumbledore," Turais replied. "And there is no reason for them to expect that we would appear in Hogsmeade either."

          "Are you sure?"

          "Absolutely. Can you help Reggie set up the interview?" Turais asked. "Preferably on Saturdays since we don't have Quidditch training. We can discuss arrangements for weekly classes once Reggie gets accepted."

          "Jane," Regulus said with forced calm. "May I have a word with Turais, if possible?"

          Jane glanced between the two brothers and said, "I will let you know when I've arranged something."

          "Thank you," Turais replied.

          Once she left, Regulus growled, "Turais. Why are we discussing this as if this is a viable course of action? You're suggesting that we break several dozen school rules worthy of expulsion! And also, the convicts! If they find you, they might try to kill you again!"

          "Then we just need to ensure we don't get caught," said Turais.

          Regulus shook his head.

          "This is absolutely bonkers."   

          "I know you have your reservations," Turais said consolingly. "But don't worry about getting me in trouble. My only question is whether this is a risk you are willing to take?"

          "I… I…" Regulus looked completely torn. After a long while, he whispered, "How?"

          "I've sneaked out of Hogwarts more times than I can count. There's a secret passageway to Hogsmeade, and I can borrow an Invisibility Cloak. It is perfectly feasible." 

          "What?!" 

          Regulus looked like he was about to collapse from the revelation. Turais sighed. He forgot that Regulus did not know about his clandestine activities.

          Then Regulus mumbled, "I don't want you to risk your life or get in trouble because of me."

          "Silly boy. They're wanted criminals. We won't happen upon them on a leisurely stroll down High Street," Turais said. "And if breaking the rules is what it takes for you to do what you want, so be it."

          "Turais…"

          "Just say yes, Reggie. I know you want to."

          Regulus glared at Turais. Then, he crossed his arms and huffed, "Fine."

Notes:

I hope you all enjoy it and I would really love to hear your thoughts! See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-09-17

Chapter 73: The Memory Fortress

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update. I hope you all enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you for your continual support for this story!

- ravenclawblues 2022-10-08

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***


Appendix VI -
The Memory Fortress excerpt

 

          The concept of thought, memory, emotions, and related subjects has always captured the fascination of wizardkind since the days of old. Despite immense effort, it remains one of the most elusive and least understood branches of magic.

          Our understanding of memory and its functionality can be broadly divided into four distinct periods: 1) the Classical era, 2) the Renaissance era, 3) the Enlightenment era, and 4) the Post-Enlightenment era. Each era had its own approach towards this field of study, contributing in key aspects that enriched our knowledge of one of the few known limits of magical understanding.

          The Classical era encompasses the beginning of Wizarding history until the invention of the Doubling Charm by the Hyslop sisters in the 14th century. It was a time when communication between magical communities was difficult and time-consuming. The exchange of information was also minimal, as books were scarcely available, and the general population was illiterate. Therefore, knowledge and conventional wisdom were retained and passed down the generations within isolated communities primarily through oral tradition. 

          This period was notable for its focus on memorisation techniques that relied upon spatial relationships to recollect memorial content. This technique would later come to be known as "the method of loci." The practice originated from storytellers who discovered that orating while travelling a familiar path, usually around a village well or town hall, improved their ability to recall their stories. 

          The discipline was further refined throughout the centuries. It is said that master practitioners of this art would be able to imagine themselves walking down the empty streets of their mentally constructed villages as a corporeal similitude and retain the precise detail of everything they had encountered throughout their lifetime.

          The invention of the Doubling Charm marked the end of the Classical era and ushered in a new era: the Renaissance. Books and scrolls became numerous and readily available to the populace. As the spell's prevalence spread across the European continent, there was no longer an active need to memorise information in its entirety, causing the practice of oral tradition to recede into oblivion.

          This era marked three significant departures in the memorial pedagogy compared to the Classical era: 1) the decline of architectural mnemonics, 2) the rise of abstract memory compartmentalisation, and 3) the invention of Occlumency defence.

          While the Classical method allowed the recall of large amounts of information, it required specific spatial-memorial "cues", such as the beginning of an epic poem or particular introductory phrases. However, in an era where entire fields of knowledge were readily accessible by the flip of a page, Renaissance practitioners no longer needed to memorise everything in exact detail. Instead, the challenge became how to quickly recall key names, locations, and signposts that would allow them to situate the desired reading material for further perusal.

          The mode of memory retrieval of the Classical era was ill-suited to their needs. As such, Renaissance practitioners devised the study of compartmentalisation, epitomised in the famed system known as the "bibliothèque de souvenirs" or memory library. This method sought to organise memories in a series of abstract imagined spaces, with each space containing a specific piece of information arranged logically to allow for easy access. It quickly gained popularity throughout Wizarding communities due to its efficacy. However, an unexpected but severe drawback soon arose. 

           While Legilimency had existed for centuries before the Renaissance, it had never been widely used due to the inherent difficulty of interpreting information in an unorganised mind. The cultural shift to systematic, logical arrangements of memories had also inadvertently made it much easier for invaders to interpret their findings. Hence, practitioners found their minds were increasingly vulnerable to such mental attacks. 

           The noble art of Occlumency was thus born from the necessity of defending against the rise of Legilimency.

           Nonetheless, the beginnings of Occlumency were fraught with false starts and mishaps. Academic discourse at the time was strife with competing schools of thought on how to best protect the mind. The typical approach was to test every method through trial and error, which often led to disastrous effects. A notorious example was the witches of Konotop in the 16th century, who inadvertently caused mass impotency in the male population while attempting a mental-blocking technique. It took centuries and many generations of pioneers until the community coalesced around the central dogmas of the field. These tenets remain the foundational bedrock of our current understanding of this discipline...

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

THE MEMORY FORTRESS


 

          "We have arrived at a bit of a conundrum," Professor Mather said as they ended the first duelling session of the school year. Turais dipped his head sheepishly. "Yes, Mr Black. Occlumency is a challenge that you must overcome. My offer still stands, should you wish to take it."

          "I… I appreciate it, Professor. But I would feel more at ease if I could train with a peer," Turais admitted.

          "Very well," Mather said with a nod. "For now, your duelling skills have hit a plateau. To advance to a higher calibre, you must be able to defend your mind."    

          Turais returned to the dormitory and pulled out The Memory Fortress from his trunk. He sat down, cross-legged, and flipped open to the section on active meditation. After fidgeting for a long while, Turais could feel his mind starting to quieten. 

          However, before he could reach a meditative state, the door swung open, and his concentration broke. With a regretful sigh, Turais re-opened his eyes. 

          "Sorry," Alex whispered. He glanced at the book and asked, "Are you practising Occlumency again?" 

          "Indeed, but I don't think it is yielding as many results as I had hoped…."

          Alex bit down on his lip before muttering, "Perhaps I can help?" Faced with Turais's silence, he rambled on. "I trust you, and I have nothing to hide. So if you want to... I... I don't mind…."

          Alex's words trailed off, and a loaded pause settled between them. 

          Could Turais risk Alex catching glimpses of his past life as Harry Potter, his knowledge of Voldemort and the Horcruxes, or any of his future plans?

          Then Turais thought back to one drunken evening a lifetime ago when he divulged his second death to a stranger… the same man who gave his life in the attack on Hogsmeade….

          Alex was to be trusted, wasn't he?

          However, it seemed like Turais hesitated for a moment too long as Alex mumbled a quick "never mind" and turned away.

          "Alex," Turais called out. "Wait." 

          The boy paused. 

          "It's alright, Turais. I understand… It should be mutual…." 

          "Alex, I trust you," Turais said immediately. "It's just… Please give me some time to consider this carefully."

          Alex jerked his head and walked out of the room, leaving Turais with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

 

***

 

          Alex was conspicuously absent when Turais rose from bed the following day. Taking his stack of posters advertising the new study club, Turais stuck them on the walls at major intersections around the castle before heading for breakfast. 

          Turais pulled out the master list for the Quidditch try-outs and perused it while he ate. He immediately spotted Jonty's name as it appeared under the column for Chaser. Turais saw Jonty handing off a sign-up sheet to his neighbour and asked, "Are you trying out for Chaser again?" 

          "Do you reckon I have a shot?"

          Turais hesitated.

          "Barring any hidden talents that have somehow evaded my notice, Riley and Harper are likely to stay on. I also have a likely candidate for the third Chaser," Turais said as Jonty's face fell slightly. "Have you considered the other positions? I need two new Beaters and a Keeper."

          "I've played as a Beater several times during summer camp…." 

          "Then you have a leg up over the others. You should consider it," Turais encouraged.

          Jonty made a noncommittal grunt before doing a double take when he saw the ever-growing list of names on Turais's sheet.

          "Is there a Protean Charm on this?" 

          The question garnered a few curious gazes from around the table.

         "Not quite," Turais explained. "A standard Protean Charm alters several objects simultaneously based on changes to the master object. My list uses a modified version that shows the compiled list from all the other sign-up sheets." 

          Pointing at the ugly blotches of ink that obscured specific names, he said, "I've even managed to charm it to automatically blot out duplicate names…." Then he noticed the ink had bled through the parchment and stained the cover of his Quintessence: A Quest. "Well, sort of…."

          "Isn't the Protean Charm supposed to be really advanced?" Stefanie asked. 

          Jonty snatched the Charms textbook and flipped through it. "Yeah, as in seventh-year N.E.W.T.s level difficulty," he muttered.

          "But seriously, this is ridiculous!" Turais grumbled. "Look at the number of names! It's like the entire Slytherin House signed up, and then some."

          "Well, Quidditch is not the only thing they're looking out for," Jonty replied, flexing his arm with a wink. "In all seriousness, who in their right mind would pass on a chance to join your team?"

          "News alert. I've been on the House team since my second year."

          "Well, 'I've played Quidditch with Black' doesn't quite have the same ring to it as 'Black chose me to join his Quidditch team', does it?"

          Turais snorted when Jonty suddenly sat up tall and started adjusting his robes. Looking down the table, he saw Jane approaching.

          "Hi, Turais," Jane greeted. Glancing at Jonty's haughty expression, she winced. "Hi, Jonty. I'm sorry about yesterday evening."

          "It's alright," Jonty grunted dismissively.

          Jane gave him a puzzled look before handing Turais a slip that contained the time of Regulus's interview and the location of the instructor's residency.

          "What is that?" Jonty asked.

          "Turais, are you sure you don't need instructions?" Jane said, ignoring Jonty. 

          "Yes, thank you so much," Turais said before leaving the Great Hall to find Regulus.

          Despite his initial reluctance to the plan, Regulus was positively bursting with energy when Turais brought the news. The younger boy promptly declared that he had to practice and disappeared in a swirl of robes.

          Two days later, Turais and Regulus were huddled together under the Invisibility Cloak as they made their way to the third-floor corridor.

          "I need you to promise never to use this passageway without me and an Invisibility Cloak," Turais whispered as they stopped in front of the statue of the one-eyed witch. 

          Regulus nodded.

          After scanning up and down the hallway one final time, Turais whispered, " Dissendium ." 

          A gasp escaped Regulus's lips as the back of the statue slid open. Turais squeezed through the narrow opening and helped Regulus inside.

          " Lumos ," said Regulus, illuminating the dark tunnel with a faint white light. "There's only one way, right?" 

          Turais nodded, and Regulus started walking. After half an hour, they reached the trapdoor leading to the cellar of Honeydukes. They quickly changed into Muggle clothing, and Turais swung the Invisibility Cloak over their bodies.

          "Follow me closely, and try not to bump into anyone," whispered Turais.

          "Why don't we use a Disillusionment Charm instead?" Regulus asked.

          "Because of the Trace," Turais explained. "I want to avoid using any wand magic if possible." 

          Soon, they arrived at the empty Hog's Head. Turais lifted the Cloak to reveal his face. Aberforth spared them a glance before grunting, "Floo's out back." 

          Turais fished around his pocket for some coins when Aberforth snorted, "Keep it, boy." Turais thanked the man before directing Regulus to the back room.

          "Do you think the barkeeper is related to the Headmaster?" Regulus whispered.

          Turais started. 

          "What makes you think that?"

          "They look similar." Regulus shrugged. "Particularly the eyes and nose."

          "Huh, I never considered that," Turais said, marvelling at how Regulus made the connection after only one brief encounter. They hurried to the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green flames. Taking two additional hops through the Floo, they emerged in a Wizarding pub in Wimbledon.

          With the Cloak wrapped tightly around them, Turais and Regulus quickly slipped out the front door as the confused barkeeper inspected the empty fireplace.

          "This way," Turais whispered as they ducked into a nearby alley. He stowed the Cloak into his messenger bag as Regulus peeked out at the street worriedly.

          "Why can't we use the Cloak until we've reached the house?"

          "There are too many people on the streets. They'll just run into us if we're invisible. Since no one is looking for us, we might as well try to blend in," Turais explained. He took Regulus's hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "It will be fine. Now, come."

          Wimbledon was a semi-rural village with a bustling high street lined with cafés and an abundance of green spaces, which was in stark contrast to the dense clutter of housing in Islington.

          Turais quickly found the correct house in the row of semi-detached houses. He rummaged through his bag and handed Regulus the sheet music. As he reached out to press the doorbell, Regulus stopped him.

          "I'm scared, Turais," Regulus whispered. "I don't want to disappoint you or Jane."

          "You won't."

          "But you've put so much effort into making this meeting happen. I don't want all of this to be for nought." 

          "Just give it your best," Turais said. "Everything else… That's up to Mr Haskil to decide. Alright?"

          Regulus gnawed on his lips and nodded. Then, he took a step forward and pressed the doorbell.

          A bright chime sounded, and a middle-aged man with hair that resembled a wild clutch of spiral pasta opened the door. 

          "Hello, are you Mr Haskil?" asked Turais.

          "Yes," the man peered at them through his thick-rimmed glasses. "And you are…?"

          "I am Turais Black, and this is my brother, Regulus. I was told that you are expecting us?"

          "Ah, yes!" Mr Haskil greeted them warmly. "Please come in!"

         The first thing Turais saw was the shiny, black grand piano in the foyer as he stepped inside. However, Mr Haskil guided them past it into the sunlight-filled screened porch with large windows that looked out into the park. In the corner were boxes of sheet music and concert pamphlets. Next to that was a shelf filled with photographs of Mr Haskil in formal attire at various competitions, posing with other musicians. 

          "Please make yourselves comfortable," Mr Haskil said as they sat on the couch. "Any tea or water?"

          Regulus shook his head.

          The man smiled understandingly and inquired, "So, Regulus. Can you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

          "I'm twelve years old," Regulus said, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I started to play the piano nine months ago and I enjoy it a lot."

          "What inspired you to play?"

          "Jane did. I happened upon her at school when she was practising. I was intrigued and asked whether she could teach me how to play."

          "I see." Mr Haskil smiled. He picked up a folder from the table and read its content. "According to her, you are quite a fast learner. The repertoire is impressive for someone without any prior musical training. You must have put in a lot of effort."

          Regulus's cheeks coloured pink.

          "Whenever I have time," he said slowly. "But we don't have a piano at home, so I only have the chance to practise during school term."

          "I will bear that in mind," Mr Haskil said with a smile. Standing up, he gestured at the foyer and asked, "If you are ready, let us hear what you have prepared. Turais, would you like to join us?"

          Regulus looked at Turais pleadingly.

          "I'll come along."

          "Very well."

          Regulus sat in front of the grand piano while Mr Haskil and Turais took up the armchairs across the room. The man readied his pen and paper and gestured for Regulus to start.

          Regulus's hands were trembling as he placed them onto the keys and started playing Schumann's Träumerei . His fingers kept tripping over one another, and he struggled through every note and chord. Eventually, he paused and asked, "May I start again?"

          Mr Haskil nodded. Regulus managed to make it through the entire piece on the second attempt, but it was a poor reflection of his usual performance. When he was finished, Regulus retracted his hands and fixed his gaze on his lap wordlessly.

          Mr Haskil walked across the room and sat down next to Regulus. 

          "Before we continue, let me tell you a funny story. Long ago when I was a soloist, I was booked to perform a certain piano sonata. However, the promoter had made an error and advertised a different one."

          Regulus's eyes widened. "What happened?"

          "They insisted that I play the other sonata. Fortunately, I had played the other piece before, and it went fairly well until the final six or seven pages," Mr Haskil said. "But my mind suddenly turned blank, and I didn't know which keys to play next. So, I improvised until I remembered the end of the piece."

          "Did you get in trouble?" 

          "The critics panned my performance, but I doubt the rest of the audience knew any differently. And now, here I am, teaching future generations of pianists," Mr Haskil chuckled. Regulus also cracked a tiny smile. "So, deep breaths. Then, let's start from the beginning, shall we? Let me count you in."

          This time, Regulus's playing felt much more relaxed. In the midst of it, Mr Haskil reached for his notepad and started scribbling down notes, but Regulus didn't notice, eyes closed and deeply immersed in the music.

          When he finished playing for the third time, Regulus looked up at Mr Haskil as nervousness gripped his face.

          "Clear expression and melody in both hands." Mr Haskil nodded encouragingly. "Why did you choose this tempo?" 

          "Jane told me that people tend to play this a bit slower," Regulus acknowledged. "But I disagree. It is titled 'daydreaming', not 'melancholy'. So I chose to play it faster and with more levity." 

          "And your left-hand accompaniment was slightly lagging. Was that deliberate?" 

          "I thought it sounded better compared to everything being perfectly synchronised. Is that wrong?" 

          "There is no such thing as 'wrong interpretation' in music."

          The second piece - a piano sonata by Beethoven - went without a hitch. In Turais's opinion, it was Regulus's best rendition of the piece yet. For the final piece, a Debussy, Mr Haskil did not even bother with his pen. He merely closed his eyes and enjoyed the music as if listening to a live performance. He asked Regulus a few more follow-up questions before rising from his seat.

          "You have given me a lot to think about," Mr Haskil said as he walked the boys to the front door. "I will notify Jane of my decision within a week."

          "He seemed kind," Turais commented on their way back to the town centre. 

          Regulus nodded absently, lost in his thoughts. When they reached the alleyway, Regulus abruptly turned to ask, "He kept saying that my interpretation was 'interesting'. I'm not sure whether he meant it in a good way or not...."

          "Well, you've done your best, and I'm proud of you," Turais said as he swung the Cloak over his brother.

          "You say that for just about everything I do," Regulus grumbled but, nonetheless, sounded pleased.

 

***

 

          "Where have you been?" Alex asked softly when Turais slipped into the dormitory.

          "I… I was with Regulus," Turais said, relieved that Alex was speaking with him again. "He seems to have a knack for playing the piano. What's up with you?" 

          The boy squared his shoulders as if anticipating a confrontation and asked, "Turais… can you pretend that I never offered to become your Occlumency partner?"

          "Is that why you have been avoiding me?" Turais asked gently. "Because it wasn't your fault. The problem lies with me. I trust you to be my partner, but I want to protect you from my thoughts."

          "What do you mean?" Alex asked.

          "They can be… overwhelming," Turais replied. "And if we practice together, I'm worried that they might adversely affect you." 

          "Turais," Alex said. "I don't understand what you are so worried about, but you've always encouraged me to share my troubles with you. I want to do the same for you."

          Turais gulped before twisting his lips into an encouraging smile.

          "Alright, let's try," Turais said. He grabbed a quill and some parchment from his bag and started writing notes.

          "Before we practise Legilimency on each other, you must first learn how to arrange your thoughts and compartmentalise them properly," Turais said as he drew several boxes on the parchment. "I tend to group my thoughts and memories temporally. First year, second year, and so on and so forth. Within each box, I further arrange them based on broad topics — for example, classes, Quidditch matches, exams, and holidays. Important events, such as my Sorting, will also have their separate compartment. Inside these compartments, I further arrange everything in chronological order. Memories, thoughts, sensations, feelings… absolutely everything. Does this make sense?"

          Alex nodded. "But is this the only way to organise my thoughts?"

          "No, everyone needs to create a system that works best for them, as long as you can sort every memory and access them easily."  

          Alex furrowed his brows in consideration and started taking notes of his own.

 

***

 

          The Slytherin Quidditch trials started in the grey-laden morning skies. As Turais predicted, the Slytherin section was filled out as if it was a regular match.

          "And I bet half the people here cannot even hover an inch above ground without falling off," Turais commented to Harper.

          "You can start with a warm-up lap around the pitch. That'll weed out the weak flyers," Harper suggested.

          "I'll probably start with something more basic..."

          Pointing his wand at his throat, Turais said with a magically magnified voice, "Welcome to the Slytherin trials. Due to the sheer number of participants, all of you will be required to pass a basic flight aptitude test before proceeding to the individual evaluations."

          After instructing everyone to stand beside their brooms, a simple command of "summon your brooms" resulted in a chorus of frustrated growls punctuated by a few thwacks of broomsticks against foreheads. A subsequent call to hover a few feet in the air caused a dozen second-years to tumble onto the ground.

          By the time Turais ordered them to fly a lap around the pitch, more than half the original group had been eliminated. 

          Then, he started with the Beater trials. After two hours and three head injuries, one of which involved a pulverised Bludger, Turais settled on Drestan Spelborne, a soft-spoken fourth-year boy with deadly aim, and Jonty, who missed two of his targets but was good enough to claim second place. After a final test for compatibility between the pair, Turais deemed them suitable to join the team.

          Jonty was vibrating with excitement as he landed on the pitch.

          "You did great," Turais praised. 

          Jonty beamed.

          "This was not how I envisioned it would happen, but I made it onto the team!" 

          The Keeper trial was a relatively pedestrian affair. Turais quickly decided on a willowy fifth-year named Freya Wiccroft, who demonstrated surprisingly quick reflexes. 

           Riley and Harper earned their spots back on the team after a pair of brilliant performances during the Chaser trials. When he announced the start of the Seeker trials, there was a considerable swell of confusion from the rejected players. Turais immediately added, "I will be playing as the third and final Chaser. Now, Seekers, get in the air!"

          Turais tried his best to ignore the growing murmurs around the pitch and focused on Regulus's performance. Once again, his brother out-flew the rest of the competition and netted the most Snitch catches.

          "Regulus, masterfully done, as per usual."

          "Is that what we use to describe mediocrity these days?" Rookwood, a third-year, said snidely as he bumped his shoulder into Regulus.

          "Then, by your own admission, your bungling performance was… what is the word?" Turais hummed thoughtfully before enunciating, "Lamentable."

          Regulus didn't bother to hide his smirk as Rookwood fumed.

          "You're only Seeker because your brother pulled out all the stops to make you one," Rookwood snapped at Regulus, who turned stone-faced. "I would feel ashamed if I were you."

          Rookwood stormed off the pitch. 

          Turais turned to his brother and said, "Ignore him. He's just a sore loser."

          "But he's not wrong, is he?" Regulus muttered with a terse expression.

          Before Turais could respond, Jane ran up towards them with a letter in her hands.

          "Great flying, Regulus!" Jane gasped with a beaming smile. "And I also have some excellent news!" 

          "Mr Haskil said yes?" Regulus asked hopefully. Jane nodded, and Regulus seized the letter. "He said I can start next week!"

          Turais looked at Jane and said, "Thank you for everything, truly." 

          Jane waved off the thanks, looking both embarrassed and pleased. Turais laughed.

 

***

 

          The Gryffindor try-outs were on the following day, and Sirius had reached the final round of the Chaser trial again, along with James Potter. This time, it went on without any incident.

          "Come on… come on!!" Turais gritted as he watched Sirius dart through the air with the Quaffle in his arms. Sirius twirled around the Keeper deftly and sank the scarlet ball through the centre hoop.

          "He scored all five of his goals," Regulus said happily as Sirius pumped his fist in the air. "That should be enough to clinch the position." 

          They quieted momentarily as Walters, the new Gryffindor captain, announced the results. 

          "The two new Chasers are Potter and Black -" 

          "Sirius's done it!" Turais shouted as he hugged Regulus, who was equally ecstatic. "He's actually done it!" 

          The two rushed to the pitch, where Sirius was surrounded by his peers, receiving their congratulations. Spotting his brothers, Sirius immediately extracted himself from the group and leapt into Turais's arms.

          "Did you see me?" 

          "Of course! You had me at the edge of my seat on the fourth goal." 

          Sirius wiped his sweat-slick forehead sheepishly. "I should've dove down left instead of right…." 

          "But you've made it. That's what matters," Regulus said.

          "That's right," Sirius grinned before placing a light punch in Turais's shoulder. "Go easy on me, alright?" 

          Turais huffed incredulously. 

          "Don't count on it." 

           At a boisterous roar, they turned to see James surfing over the heads of Gryffindor students until he reached the stands. 

          "Let's celebrate afterwards," Sirius said. Pressing his voice down, he added, "James and I managed to get our hands on a crate of butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks." 

          "Are you sure this is something I should hear about? Being a prefect and all," Turais teased. Then, Mister Williams called for all four captains to gather by the goalposts.

          "We'll talk more later," said Turais before heading off.

          Two captains had already arrived. Geoffrey Macmillan, Gerald's older brother, was the Hufflepuff captain in his final year. Next to him was a short, freckled girl called Vidal, a Ravenclaw Chaser. They were soon joined by Walters, the Gryffindor Keeper with a perpetually sunny disposition and a genuine, charming smile on her face.

          "Great team you have there, Walters," Geoffrey said. "Although I do worry about Potter. He seems… unruly."

          "He's a bit full of himself, but he's gotten better," Walters replied. "And he's got talent -"

          "Look!" Vidal gasped as they all turned towards the stands.

          James had climbed atop the commentator's box and was now igniting an animated firework. It took the shape of a giant Quaffle and erupted amidst the cheering crowd. Then, it transformed into a Bludger and started to twirl out of control. The bright ball of fire and light crashed into the stands amidst a thunderous bang as several benches were set ablaze.

          "For Merlin's sake! Can he go a week without causing a scene?!" Walters groaned as several students screamed in terror. Fortunately, Mister Williams managed to contain the fire with several well-placed Freezing Charm. He gave Potter a dressing down before escorting everyone off of the pitch.

          "Defective fireworks," the man said as he showed the captains an ordinary Quidditch-themed firework from Zonko's. "Modified by Potter to make it larger and… more explosive. I gave him detention for the rest of September."

          "I'm not sure how effective that is," Walters muttered. "He boasted how he only spent two weeks without detention last year."

          The flight instructor untied the velvet pouch at his wrist and said, "Let us draw lots for the Quidditch match-ups. Ladies first."

          Vidal pulled out a ball with the number three, and Walters drew the number one.

          "Gryffindor will be playing the first match…." Mister Williams muttered.

          "For the fourth year in a row," Walters noted as she handed Turais the pouch. "And against Slytherin for all of them."

          "Here's to hoping for a different draw," Turais chuckled as he reached his hand inside the pouch and twirled the two remaining balls around.

          "Afraid, Black?"

          "I just want to ramp up the anticipation… by leaving our match last."

          "Whatever makes you sleep better," Walters teased.

          Vidal nudged Geoffrey and said in a mock whisper, "The smug bastard doesn't even treat us as competition." 

          "Four," Turais announced as Geoffrey confirmed the final ball was a two. 

          "Seems like you have gotten your wish, Mr Black," Mister Williams said. Then, he readied the camera as they posed for the group photograph.

          "One, two, three. Quidditch!"

          

***

 

          "Where are we going?" Alex asked as they hiked up the staircase to the seventh floor.

          "You'll see."

          Turais walked past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy three times, all the while picturing a warm, cosy room that ensured total privacy. When Alex called out in surprise, Turais opened his eyes to find a door had appeared. He pulled it open, revealing a spacious room with a crackling fireplace and a large pile of cushions in the centre.

          "The Room of Requirement. A room that changes its appearance at will." Turais grinned at Alex's gobsmacked expression. "This will have to be a little secret between us."

          Turais then shook his sleeve to awaken a slender, green snake coiled around his arm. Alex jumped at the sight.

          "You're a Slytherin, Alex," Turais sighed exasperatedly.

          "I appreciate the symbolism of a serpent, but that's different from wanting to share the same space with the creature," Alex argued. "I doubt many Gryffindors would be thrilled to confront an actual lion." 

          "I suppose not," Turais conceded. "But this is a grass snake. Very docile. Not venomous." 

          " I was… promis...ed food... "

          "What did it say?" Alex asked nervously.

          "I promised him food. Here you go," Turais replied as he pulled out a newt from his pouch and fed it to the snake. The snake swallowed it quickly, looking sated.

          "Why did you bring a snake?"

          “For Legilimency practice. It would be best if you learnt the technique before you make an attempt on another person. So, I made a recruitment. In exchange for food, I have gained permission for us to practise Legilimency on our guest. Remember, the point of this exercise is not to master Legilimency but to make sure you are in control when navigating someone's mind. We are using Legilimency to help train each other in Occlumency. Nothing more."

          Alex nodded. "Will I harm him?" 

          "The chances are slim. Serpents are natural Occlumens. If you manage to enter their minds, it is because they allowed you to."

          In the first several unsuccessful attempts, the snake flicked his tongue lazily as Alex jabbed his wand to no avail. 

          However, after half an hour and a particularly forceful " Legilimens! ", the snake suddenly went unnaturally still and taut with tension. Alex's eyes also glazed over momentarily before he blinked and sucked in a lungful of air.

          "I saw something!" Alex gasped excitedly. "Something… green..."

          "That's very good..." Turais said encouragingly. "Remember, do not focus solely on visual cues. Reach out with all your senses, feel the ebbs of emotions… Each clue offers only an impression… but they are pieces to the puzzle you are trying to solve."

          "It feels wet… and tastes like dirt," Alex said after a second dive into the snake's mind. "But there is something else… something musky… but I can't quite make it out… There are vibrations on the ground… must be something quick… and it smells good…" Alex muttered as the snake's movement turned languid.

          "Could it be an animal?" Turais suggested.        

          Alex snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "A prey. It was stalking a prey. A toad or a rodent or something similar!" 

          "Let's try one final time before we completely wear down our guest," Turais said. "This time, I'll join you."

          After casting Legilimens , Turais found himself looking out across a pond hidden amongst blades of grass. There was the slightest vibration in the earth. With a flick of a bifid tongue, he could taste the overwhelming earthy scents. However, underlying it was the most subtle flavour of a small mammal. A wave of contentment filled his body as he could sense his stomach stretching. Yet, something about the scenery was odd. The grasses were coloured in the most beautiful array of green, the soil was as soft as silk, and the air was warm and toasty.

           Sensing a warning from the snake's subconsciousness, he nudged Alex as they both resurfaced —

          "A field mouse," Alex gasped immediately. "You were recalling a hunt?"

          Turais translated Alex's words. The snake tilted his head and considered before ultimately shaking his head.

          "Not quite," Turais said. "It was not a memory. Rather, it was a less-than-subtle reminder that the snake has a craving for mice."

          The snake flicked his tongue approvingly, and Turais set down the pouch on the ground. The snake immediately burrowed his head inside and started feasting in earnest.

          Noticing Alex's confused expression, Turais explained, "You missed an obscure but critical point in your observations. Everything was too idealistic. That should've been your first hint that it was not a memory."

          "Oh, that makes sense," Alex nodded. "But how do you tell the difference between memories, thoughts, and dreams?" 

          "There are certain clues. For example, thoughts tend to be short and end abruptly. Dreams lack distinct beginnings. Memories are often more concrete and filled with details and tied with strong emotional upheavals," Turais said. "However, there is no way to tell definitively. A patient suffering from memory loss can have fragmented memories without details. Thoughts on certain subjects can elicit intense emotional reactions from some individuals. Lucid dreams can be as realistic as any memory, if not more."

          "I see."

          "And how is your compartmentalisation coming along?" 

          "I'm having trouble," Alex admitted. "The concepts are a little abstract." 

          "Would it help if you saw an example?" Turais asked, and Alex nodded. "I can show you my mental layout."

          "Is it safe?"

          "The textbook says so," Turais replied. He wished for an alarm clock and immediately found one lying face down next to him. He picked it up and set a time. "We may spend no more than thirty minutes inside our minds. After that, we must resurface. Understood?" 

          "What would happen if we remained there for too long?" 

          "In mild cases, fatigue and headaches. In the worst case, we may be unable to regain consciousness and be forever trapped in our minds," Turais replied as Alex paled. "But if we stay within the time limit, we will be fine."

          He directed Alex to sit across from him. "Now close your eyes and clear your mind. Also, try not to fight against the sensation once I cast the spell."

          Alex did as told, and once his breathing smoothed out, Turais muttered, " Comitamens.

          There was a forceful tug in Turais's mind. He heard Alex gasp as the Room of Requirement faded from his senses. Then, he slowly descended into the murky depths of his consciousness —

           Alex appeared at a park under sunny, cloudless skies. The trees and grasses were all painted in hues of vivid greens with sharp, ink-black shadows beneath. In the distance, children were shouting and screaming as they chased after one another, circling the swings and roundabout. Beyond the train tracks were rows upon rows of semi-detached houses stretching out as far as the eye could see.

          'Little Whinging Play Park,' a nearby sign said.

          There was a clap of thunder in the distance, and the mild breeze transformed into a hair-whipping gale. The sun disappeared, and the skies were now dark and heavy with swirling grey clouds. Leaves and debris flew in all directions as jet-black streaks raced across the gathering storm towards them.

          The playful screams from the children turned into nightmarish howls of fear as they scattered in all directions. Empty swing seats whipped around mid-air, and the chain rattled against the metal beams. 

          Through Alex's barely-opened eyes, dark columns of clouds plummeted to the ground to reveal several masked assailants. They stalked towards him with a murderous glint in their eyes.

          Alex scrambled away frightfully. As he made his way to the exit, he bumped into another person.

          "Turais!" Alex gasped in relief as the other boy stepped forward.

          "He is with me," Turais announced. With a snap of his fingers, the assailants turned into smoke and dissipated along with the stormy weather. In an instant, everything returned to its initial state.

          Looking around, Alex asked, "What was that?"

          "My defences. They recognised that you were a foreign presence and attacked," Turais said. "Sorry for the fright."

          "So… we are in your mind?" At Turais's nod, Alex asked, "And where are we?"

          "Surrey," Turais replied just as a white Vauxhall Cavalier rolled past them. Sensing Alex's curious gaze, Turais quickly turned away and said, "Come. Let me show you around." 

          Turais waved his hand, and they were immediately enveloped in a swirl of opaque fog. Dissipating, they found themselves inside a compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express. However, a quick glimpse into the corridor revealed the interiors of a Muggle train.

          An automated female voice sounded, "This train is for… London Waterloo…! The n…next… st…tation is… Asc-"

          The announcement turned into static as the lights in the carriage flickered off. The train stalled, and Alex felt the temperature plunge. He watched a thin layer of frost form on the window when a hooded, disfigured creature floated past.

          Turais snapped his fingers again, and the train was now pulling into a bustling station.

          "This is London Waterloo," the conductor announced. "This train is at its final stop. Please remember to take all your personal items with you when you leave the train."

          "Come on," Turais said as they disembarked and emerged under the radiant sun of central London. Cars and pedestrians milled around them, paying them no attention. "Instead of drawers, I have these buildings, which are further divided into floors and rooms, each containing a different memory," Turais explained as they strolled down the busy streets. 

          "But if any one of these buildings contains memories, won't you risk someone accidentally stumbling across important secrets?" Alex said. 

          "Good question. Some buildings are empty and merely used as fronts to confuse intruders. In addition, my most important memories are stored in Gringotts, which is the innermost layer of secrecy here," Turais said.

          "Your memory fortress is massive," Alex muttered worriedly.

          "I've practised for a much longer time," Turais said. "Perhaps start with something smaller, like a house. Or a room." 

          "And who are these people?" Alex asked.

          "Projections of my subconsciousness. The mind naturally fills in the details. A city has people, cars, shops, trains…. They tether your mind to reality, and the elements can reveal much about the individual. In some cases, perhaps more than memories themselves, which can be modified." 

          Suddenly, a Snitch circled their heads before shooting off into the distance. A few moments later, another one darted across their view. Turais furrowed his brows in concentration, and the Snitch slowed as if it was moving through thick molasses. Turais reached out his hand and plucked the metallic ball out of the air. Instead of turning idle, the Snitch flapped its wings even more frantically.

          "Why are there so many Snitches?" Alex asked.

          Turais pressed the Snitch to his lips. It slid open, and an indecipherable echo of a voice drifted out.

          "Thoughts. Notoriously difficult to control and contain," Turais explained as he released the Snitch. "There are dozens of them darting across the city, escaping through my barriers and reaching the surface of my mind."

          "But didn't you manage to stop and catch one?" 

          "I was doing so consciously. And it was one Snitch," Turais replied. "Now imagine trying to catch all of them fluttering around at any given moment whilst not paying attention." 

          "That sounds impossible," Alex blanched.

          "Which is why it is important to clear the mind," Turais said. "Makes the task easier from the onset."

          "What Seeker can catch multiple Snitches at a time?"

          "A very good one." Turais grinned. They fell into a companionable silence, observing the imaginary city as it continued around them.

          "But why do you need me to help you?" Alex asked after a while. "Your memory fortress already seems secure to me."

          "That's because I'm consciously guarding my mind," Turais said. "Ask me something." 

          "Anything?"

          "Surprise me. Something that will catch me off guard."

          Alex considered for a moment.

          "What are nargles?"

          There was a deep rumble under their feet as the ground shook. The windows of a nearby building exploded and showered the streets with shards of glass before being swallowed by the ground.

          Turais squeezed his eyes shut in concentration as a large pit opened up, and an Underground train rumbled into a half-destroyed station. Beneath it, the hole seemed to extend downwards endlessly in the darkness.

          Turais tried to reinforce his defences. However, his mind leapt from tangent to tangent before a memory was dredged up like a trawl as an inverted Gringotts vault slowly rose into the sunlight —

          Alex was inside a room lined with various duelling equipment. 

          There was a couple standing nearby, looking at each other intently. The girl, a Ravenclaw, had jet-black hair that slid off her shoulders like a sequin curtain, shimmering and flawless. However, the boy's appearance was shrouded by a veil of fog except for the unmistakable pair of green eyes. Soon, it lifted to reveal Turais's dumbfounded and uncharacteristically coy expression.

          "Mistletoe," the girl breathed as she glanced up at the drooping branch that materialised above their heads. 

           "Yeah," Turais's voice rasped unevenly as he stared into the girl's eyes. "It's probably full of nargles, though."

          "What are nargles?"

          "No idea." Turais's breath hitched as the girl moved closer. "You'd have to ask Loony. Luna, I mean."

          Their noses were almost touching now. 

          "I really like you."

          The fluttering of a pounding heart echoed as the room fell away in the darkness. There was a soft press of lips, a hint of saltiness as teardrops splattered —

          Suddenly, there was the muffled sound of an alarm ringing in the distance.

          Turais forcefully ripped them from his memory. The ground sealed together, and the building reconstructed itself as the scene faded.

          Turais opened his eyes to the Room of Requirement and slapped his hand on the snooze button.

          "Sorry," Alex whispered, averting his eyes. "I just saw the word in a random magazine, but I didn't…."

          Clearing his throat, Turais said, "Well, that was to be expected… Now, do you see how much I have to work on?"

          Alex nodded wordlessly, and they ended the session there. 

Notes:

I hope you all enjoy it and I would really love to hear your thoughts! See you all and until next time!

- ravenclawblues 2022-10-08

Chapter 74: The Depths of the Mind

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

THE DEPTHS OF THE MIND


 

 

SUMMER AVIAN PHOTOGRAPHY

Photographer Marco Shuttermeyer shares his expert opinion on rare picture of multiple wild phoenixes and how to capture them

 

An amateur British photographer has captured jaw-dropping pictures of three phoenixes bursting into flames.

Mary Barrington, 74, was on a Greek safari earlier this month when a newborn phoenix appeared on their cruise ship. 

"We were surprised when the eldest Black child entered the restaurant with the hours-old male phoenix in his arms. Though, he did claim to have heard its song several nights prior when no one else did. The magizoologists reckoned they were bonded, but that was until the phoenix's brood mates arrived."

Sighting of wild phoenixes is extremely rare as they tend to avoid wizardkind. This was the first time anyone had captured these elusive birds in such close proximity.

The technical bit…

Light in summer is in much greater supply than in winter, but summer light is a lot harsher than the other times of the year because the position of the sun is much higher in the sky. In addition, the subject itself emits a lot of light and contains high levels of magical properties, so one must carefully adjust light focus and dampeners to avoid light and magic overexposure.

The camera Ms Barrington used was an Illuminator NOX, magical focus with motion capture …

 

***

 

          Turais arrived at the Great Hall for the start of his first night patrol. However, he paused at the sight of Frank, Alice, and Edgar Bones.

          "Evening," Frank greeted cheerily. Glancing at Turais's confused expression, he explained, "Don't worry, you've got the right shift, mate." 

          Turais consulted his timetable. "Then where's Dorrance?"

          "You will learn to ignore that very soon, despite Pearson's intentions," Edgar replied with a coarse, gravelly voice. "Dorrance and I swapped duties, Perelman is studying, and Featherswallow is probably lying in an alcove somewhere, drunk." 

          "Remind me why he was made Head Boy again?" Frank asked, to which Edgar shrugged. Taking a pair of lamps, he said, "Alice and I will cover the dungeons. See you both in a couple of hours." 

          "Enjoy your evening," Edgar called out as the two left. "That leaves us to patrol the towers."

          As they walked up to the posters advertising the O.W.L. study club, Edgar asked, "When is this starting up?"

          "After Christmas," Turais replied. "I doubt anyone has half a mind on studying before then."

          Suddenly, the texts and illustrations on the posters rearranged themselves to reveal several students on brooms.

          "Monthly Quidditch friendlies," Edgar read. "I didn't know the posters could change."

          "Targeted advertising. It's a nifty charm, really. Depending on the person, they'll change into what interests them most," Turais said. "Do you want to join?"

          "You're heading this as well?" At Turais's nod, Edgar said, "I'm not good enough to make the House team, so it would be nice to play instead of spectating from afar."

          Turais pulled out a form from his bag and handed it to the Hufflepuff.

          "All four captains agreed to release the pitch once a month and host some friendly matches. You simply need to submit a team name and a roster of seven players. There are no restrictions on house affiliations, but you are limited to three House team members per team."

          "I already have several names off the top of my mind," Edgar grinned. "But aren't you stretching yourself thin with all your responsibilities?"

          "Reckon I'll regret it come Easter."

          When they reached the Gryffindor landing, he saw Sirius pacing near the portrait of the Fat Lady.

          "Turais!" Sirius shouted excitedly. "There you are."

          "Sirius, why are you outside of your common room? It’s almost curfew —"

          "You have Lux's feather on you, right? Can you show it to my mates?"

          Even since Apollon told him to keep an eye on the feather, Turais had carried it on him everywhere as a memento. 

          "I'm on patrol —"

          "Please!" Sirius begged whilst tugging at Turais's arm insistently. "They don't believe that we almost brought home a phoenix!"

          Turais shot Edgar an apologetic look before allowing himself to be dragged off. After entertaining a crowd of awe-inspired Gryffindors for several minutes, the prefects continued on their way.

          "The column was true, then? The one that suggested you are bonded with a phoenix."

          "I wasn't aware of that."

          "It was in an amateur photography magazine. It's a hobby of mine," Edgar said.

          "I see. Well, I'm not quite bonded with a phoenix, seeing that I don't have one flying around me. It's… complicated."

          "But it does make for an improbable story."

          "You've distilled my life into a single sentence," Turais replied, which elicited a small chuckle from the other prefect.

 

***

 

          "Elephant," Alex said with an amused quaver in his voice.

          The pair of Slytherins were under the vaulted ceilings of the Room of Requirement for their next Occlumency session.

           In hindsight, Turais had made a terrible blunder by allowing Alex inside his mind with his mental defences being actively suppressed. Turais was now practising passive Occlumency with his defences lowered, enough for the other boy to graze his mind, but nothing more.

           The snitches in Turais's mind were duplicating out-of-control as if they were struck by a Gemino Curse. Meanwhile, vivid images of elephants reached the surface of his mind and Alex's gaze.

          "A pink elephant with yellow spots juggling a beach ball — Wait! It's just a large man in a gaudy polka dot tutu —"

          Alex snorted in laughter, and Turais opened his eyes, unimpressed.

          "Stop with the ridiculous impromptu stories!"

          "Not until you manage to render them ineffective," Alex replied with a cheeky grin.

          "Well, I'm spent. It's your turn in the hot seat," Turais said. "How is your compartmentalisation? Enough for me to take a peek at your mind?"

          Alex's smile faded.

          "I suppose we will find out."

          "It will be alright," Turais nodded encouragingly as he set the alarm. "I'll try my best to control my Legilimency. But I would like to apologise in advance if -"

          "Just cast the spell." 

          Turais adjusted the grip on his wand again and took a deep breath. " Legilimens. "

          Alex's face froze as Turais tumbled through the cold darkness —

          Blinking his eyes, Turais looked up at the familiar exterior of 12 Grimmauld Place. A pair of mechanical, copper-plated birds flew past him and perched on the power lines. The entire street and the neighbouring park were visible. However, just beyond the corner was an unnatural swirl of fog, obscuring everything beyond.

          Suddenly, the front door swung open, and Alex descended the worn stone steps. 

          "I was wondering where you were until I sensed something out on the street."

          "I doubt my Legilimency is good enough to enter your mind undetected," Turais replied as he glanced around. "You reconstructed our home?"

          Alex scratched his neck and nodded. 

          "It's not much… Just a row of terraced houses..." 

          "Quite the contrary. This is rather impressive," Turais said, running his fingers against the brick wall and feeling the thrum of energy lying within. "On my first… proper attempt, I was floating in a giant pensieve with memories swirling around me. Now, let's take a look inside. Shall we?"

          The 12 Grimmauld Place of Alex's mind had elongated hallways lined with numerous doors. 

          "Each floor contains memories I associate with a specific person," Alex explained as he opened a door on his left. The rooms were stripped of all furniture and replaced with rows of bookshelves filled to the brim with books. "And the shelves are arranged in a chronological order with every book containing an individual memory —"

           Turais brushed against a stack of books haphazardly placed on a narrow stool. As they tumbled onto the floor, flashes of images suddenly flitted across his eyes —

          He was inside Alex's room at Grimmauld Place. The boy was lying in bed with his eyebrows furrowed. A fitful series of coughs seized him just as there was a knock at the door.

          "Come in," Alex rasped.

          The door opened, and Orion entered.

          "How are you feeling?" Orion said. "Turais said your fever broke."

          "I'm much better. Thank you, Mr Black."

          "Well, let's take a look at the diagnostics," Orion said as he performed the standard battery of charms. "And it seems like that is indeed the case. There is also one additional test I would like to perform. But for that, I will need some of your blood. Is that alright?" 

           At Alex's nod, Orion made a small cut on the crook of his arm and swiftly conjured a vial to collect several droplets of blood. After a wave of his wand, the wound healed instantly without a hint of injury.

           There was a moment of hesitation on Orion's face as he corked the vial. Then, the man turned to face Alex once more.

          "There is also something I wish to ask you —" 

           Alex gasped as the books hit the carpet with a series of dull thuds.

          "How are you feeling?" Turais asked worriedly.

          "That felt… odd." 

          "It was the sensation of your mind being breached," Turais explained. "Sorry about that…." 

          Alex shook his head.

          "We both knew the risks. I suppose this is what happens with unsorted memories?" 

           Turais nodded and pointed out the other flaws in Alex's mental defences, including cracks in the wall and packed shelves straining against their confines. But otherwise, the memories were surprisingly well-secured for a first attempt.

         The top floor had a seemingly endless hallway. The doors closest to them were styled similarly to those found in 12 Grimmauld Place, but there was an abrupt change halfway down. It was as if they had stumbled into a different house entirely. Instead of familiar dark green and silver surroundings, everything was in a muted shade of yellow and brown. 

           Turais examined the faded crest of two Abraxans supporting a shield on the wallpaper.

           It was the Fawley crest.

          "This part of the house needs to be more secure. May I enter?" 

          Alex shifted uncomfortably as the house trembled.

          "If you are not certain, I don't need to -"

          "It's alright," Alex whispered.

          Turais stepped into the first room, and the most prominent object was a broken bookshelf leaning heavily against the peeling, yellow-stained wall. There was also a table with several books next to a small window. Just outside, a towering pine blocked most of the light from filtering through the moth-infested curtains.

          Turais walked closer to inspect the bookshelf, and his fingers brushed against one of the books —

           He was sitting on the bed in a nearly identical room. The only difference was that a broken wardrobe, instead of a bookshelf, stood in the corner.

          The door creaked open, and the wrinkly forehead of a house-elf peeked out from behind. She scanned the room with her quivering eyes before opening the door completely to reveal a nine-year-old Alex.

           There was a crash of a heavy object falling down the stairs in a distant part of the house.

          "What was that?" Alex asked in a hushed whisper.

          The house-elf, looking terrified, gave Alex's sleeve a hard tug and urged him forward.

          "The young Master must listen to Tully. He must stay in his room and not make a single sound."

          "But why? And where is my father -"

           A long, tortured cry echoed throughout the house. 

          With a horrified squeak, Tully snapped her fingers. The door slammed shut, and a low, magical hum filled the room.

          "Tully will tend to the young Master's every need, but he must not leave this room!"

          The house-elf said the words so quickly that Turais barely managed to catch them all before she disappeared with a small pop.

          The young Alex set down his bag against the bed and immediately tried the door handle, only to find that it was locked. The other door opened, but it only led to a small bathroom. 

          With nothing else to do, Alex sat down on the bed and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. He reached down for his bag, which contained a set of clothes and a small journal.

          Alex took the book and hugged it close to his chest as a tiny sob escaped his lips.

          A church bell tolled in the distance, growing in intensity with each passing second.

          Turais resurfaced from the memory and exited Alex's mind as quickly as he could. Back in the Room of Requirement, he turned off the alarm and handed Alex a goblet of chilled pumpkin juice, which he drained immediately.

          "Chocolate?" Turais offered.

          "I'm fine," Alex muttered. He took in several more gulps of air before saying, "It was my first day at Fawley House."

          "The screams… What were they?" 

          "They were my father's," Alex whispered. "He was always taken ill and in terrible pain."

          Turais already knew that, but the harrowing experience of the memory still caught him by surprise. Now, he truly understood why Alex was adamant about not returning to Fawley House.

          "Do you know what his illness was?"

          Alex shook his head. "I never managed to get an answer from the house-elves."  

          Turais nodded. After suggesting ways to better secure his memories, they collected their belongings and headed for supper.

          "Black," a seventh-year boy greeted as Turais and Alex entered the Great Hall. "Good going, Fawley."

          Alex blinked in confusion.

          "That was… Piquery, right? The one who always gives me the stink eye?"

          Another student walked by and gave Alex an approving nod. Alex narrowed his eyes at Turais's grin.

          "You know something."

          "Nothing you don't. I think the news finally broke that you've chosen my father as your proxy." 

          The evening post confirmed his suspicion. However, Regulus tapped Turais's shoulder urgently and directed his attention to another article.

DEATH AT PARADEISOS RULED AS A HOMICIDE

The death of Aloysius Thorne, 41, that occurred in August on a cruise at Paradeisos has been ruled a homicide, according to the British Auror Office. Currently, no suspect has been identified in connection with the crime, and the authorities are still searching for the body of the missing man…

          "So, it was a murder!" Sirius sat down beside them, waving his own newspaper. "We should consider setting up a private eye business…."

          "What is this all about?" asked Alex. The brothers looked at each other hesitantly before Turais explained everything. "So, you all knew about this?"

          "We had our suspicions," Turais said quickly as Alex pursed his lips. "But nothing was confirmed until today."

          "And we still haven't figured out why he was murdered," Regulus said. "Who stands to gain the most from his death?"

          "I only know who will lose the most: Malfoy," Turais muttered. "Remember the fight between Lord Prince and Master Lufkin earlier this year? They lost the Prince seat with Lord Prince's death, and since a person who committed egregious crimes is barred from inheriting a Wizengamot seat, the Lufkin seat is as good as gone. Lord Mothersille and his son died in a hunting accident earlier this year. And now, with Thorne's death… that's four seats in this year alone."

          "That's good news for us, right?" asked Regulus.

          Turais nodded, but his eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty. 

 

***

 

          "Diadem: Two hundred and thirty points. Shots and Chasers: One hundred and fifty points," Geoffrey, the officiant of the day, announced as the students cheered.  

          Down on one end of the Quidditch pitch, Turais and Regulus were sitting at the entrance.

          "Why am I here again?" Regulus grumbled as he handed Turais a stack of parchments.

          "Because you're my brother, which means free labour."

          Turais spotted a group of third-years approaching the table. James was prancing in the front, followed by Remus, Peter, and one of their roommates, Thomas O'Brien. Trailing behind them was Sirius, who was dragging along a reluctant Severus. 

          James slammed a piece of parchment onto the table.

          "Aaaand… the winners have arrived!"

          "Please tell me you came up with an acceptable team name," Turais muttered.

          "You'll like this one."

          "For Fawkes's Sake," Turais read. "Really?"

          Sirius and James snickered, and Turais smacked them on the head. 

          "Please let us use this one," Sirius said as he rubbed his head. "You've already vetoed all the good ones."

          "Moan like Myrtle. Whomp my Willow. Flitwick's Nitwits," Turais listed as Sirius and James descended into another fit of laughter. "I can't believe that you're trying to present this as the most reasonable choice."

          "You're welcome," James grinned. "So, you'll accept it?"

          "Fine," Turais sighed, and the two boys cheered loudly. "Regulus, can you check the roster -" 

          "Why is my name on here?" demanded Regulus. His eyes fell on the Nimbus 1701 in Sirius's arms. "And why do you have my broom?! I stored it under my bed!" 

          "Oh, our previous Seeker is unavailable at the last moment," Sirius shrugged. "We need you on the team."

          "What if I don't want to join?" 

          "Come on! It will be fun!" 

          "You can either play Quidditch or continue to help with paperwork here," Turais added.

          Regulus thought for a moment before turning to Sirius.

          "I want all the chocolate you receive for Christmas." 

          "No way!"

          "You can always find someone else."

          "Fine. Half."

          "Four-fifths."

          "Six-tenths."

          "Half of Uncle Gareth's and three-quarters of the rest."

          "You drive a hard bargain, little brother," Sirius said as the brothers shook hands.

          "What about Severus?" Turais eyed the struggling boy with a frown. "Did you force him to come?"

          Sirius clasped his hand over the Slytherin's mouth and said, "He has cold feet, but he really loves to play Quidditch!"  

          Severus shoved Sirius's hand away and muttered, "No, I don't. And this is a terrible idea." 

          "But we are already here," Sirius said brightly.

          Turais decided that this was not worth getting a headache over. He promptly declared, "You will be playing in the next match against…The Bloody Superior."

          James frowned. "Sounds like a bunch of stuck-up snobs."  

          "Well, you're not wrong…." 

          Turais handed them the opponent team's roster.

          "Carrow, Grimditch, Jauncey, Rookwood…" Regulus muttered. "That explains it."

          "We'll show them their place," James huffed, his eyes falling on the all-Pureblood team nearby. Sensing their gazes, the other team started making taunting gestures. 

          "Are the teams ready?" Geoffrey asked as he landed on the ground. At Turais's nod, Geoffrey motioned for both teams to get up in the air. However, Severus's foot slipped from the foothold as he ascended, causing the broomstick to bank sideways. Regulus managed to hold him upright, and the other team started to hoot and jeer.

          "Feeling faint, seaweed head?" Rookwood shouted. "Or is it a bad case of sea legs?"

          "Shut your gob, Rookwood," James growled.

          Rookwood waved his hand in front of James's face. "Oh, you can see?"

          "That's enough, Rookwood," Geoffrey said as he separated the two. "Now, I want a nice, clean match between the two teams. Am I understood?"

          "As you wish," Rookwood bared his teeth viciously.

          "Yes," James returned with a determined glint in his eyes.

          The whistle sounded and the match began. What followed was some of the dirtiest and most chaotic minutes of Quidditch ever played.

          Jauncey immediately pounced on James in an attempt to shove him off his broom, to which the other responded with a vicious headbutt. Severus was chased around the pitch by Grimditch, who waved his Beater bat menacingly with no intention of hitting a Bludger. On the other end of the pitch, Carrow seized Remus's hair and tried to force his broom into the wall.

           While most of the players were either busy committing or avoiding fouls, an industrious Sirius managed to fly above the fray and help secure a large lead.

          Then came a painful shout that alarmed the audience and startled a snoring Slughorn, who was supposedly acting as their supervising professor.

          By the time Turais realised what had happened, Rookwood was already lying on the ground and moaning in pain. Above him was an unapologetic Sirius with his wand out as Thomas looked on in shock.

          "I'm dying!" Rookwood cried out as Turais and Slughorn rushed to the site. "Everything hurts."

          "Don't be dramatic, boy," Slughorn said. "You were five feet above the ground. And nothing is broken or bruised… except your ego, perhaps."

          "What happened?" Turais demanded. However, Sirius remained resolute in his silence.

          Under Rookwood's incessant complaining, Slughorn directed Sirius to the commentator's podium to make a public apology.

          "Hello," Sirius said after clearing his throat. "I stand here before you all because I hexed someone off a broom.

          "The person in question caught the Quaffle with his fat nose and let the ball fall right through his arms. It was hilarious, which is a fact, and I commented that his arms were made of cheese and filled with holes, which is also a fact. The daft git hadn't an ounce of humour within him and proceeded to call my teammate and me a Mudblood and an inbred. Therefore, I politely asked him to brace himself before hexing him off his broom." Turning around to face the stone-faced Rookwood, Sirius continued, "With that in mind, I would like to, from the bottom of my heart, apologise for calling you a moronic, bigoted baby. I should have also called you an absolute wanker."

         A chuckle rippled through the crowd as Sirius walked past an incensed Rookwood with a smirk.

          "That was… interesting…" 

          Turais thought Regulus sounded rather impressed.

          "Professor!" Rookwood growled, "He —"

          "Is that true?" Slughorn interrupted. Rookwood's eyes darted around frantically as he tried to formulate a sentence.

          Meanwhile, Turais walked towards Sirius, who was surrounded by his excited friends. 

          "You were ruddy brilliant!" James gushed.

          "So brave," Marlene agreed.

          "You shouldn't have done that," Peter whispered anxiously. "You'll get in loads of trouble. Rookwood isn't worth it."

          "We cannot let him get away with this —" 

          Sirius stopped when he saw Turais. He immediately jutted his chin out and said, "Everything I said was true."

          "Five points from Gryffindor for coarse language," Turais shouted loudly. Then, he pressed his voice down to a whisper, "Try to make less of a spectacle next time, hmm?"

          Sirius beamed.

 

***

 

          Soon, it was the first Hogsmeade Weekend of the year, and Turais was sitting with his cousins at the Hog's Head. The sisters pored over a stack of brochures ranging from selections of bouquets to centrepieces to various enchantment services. 

          "The gown looks exquisite. And Cissy, you look radiant," Andromeda said as she studied the picture of the smiling bride-to-be in a spectacular, ivory silk taffeta wedding dress. With a wistful sigh, she handed back the photograph. "I wish I could see you in that dress." 

         Narcissa's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered and opened a book. A posy of baby blue and pink flowers sprung from the page.

          "I'm considering these floral arrangements," Narcissa said. "But Lucius insists everything should be in white."

          "These smell wonderful, and they will complement your dress nicely. I think Malfoy Manor can use some more colours besides green and white," Andromeda replied. "Don't let him win this argument."

          "I knew you'd agree with me." Narcissa smiled, but the corners of her lips slowly drew down. "But I don't even know if the wedding will be held at the Manor after all."

          Turais glanced up from his cup as Andromeda asked, "What do you mean?" 

          "Bella and Rodolphus are trying to persuade Lucius to hold the wedding reception at the Lestrange ancestral home," Narcissa said quietly. "After the whole legal squabble with the French Ministry, they believe that hosting a wedding reception would be a good way to… rejuvenate the site."

          "Ancestral home?" Andromeda frowned. "You mean the Mausoleum? That is absurd!"

          "It's not a mausoleum... It was built before the Muggles built a cemetery around it."

          "The French Lestranges had a perverse obsession with death. They used to lure their enemies into their home, murder them, and bury them inside their crypts. And that's where Grindlewald held his Paris rally! That place must be infested with malevolent spirits! Cissy, do you really want your wedding to be held there?" 

          Narcissa looked down at her lap and muttered, "They assured us there are no redcaps or ghosts -"

          "You are not answering my question."  

          "I… I think Lucius needs to secure his allies. He has lost too many as of late." 

          "It's your wedding -"

          "No, Andy," Narcissa whispered shakily. "It is our wedding."

          The sisters fell silent. After a while, Andromeda reached over the table and took Narcissa's hand into hers. With a brave smile, she said, "I think we should look at wedding cakes next." 

          Narcissa nodded. 

          "I prefer something sweeter."

          When the meeting ended, Turais rushed back to Hogwarts and found Regulus waiting impatiently outside the Slytherin common room.

          "Where were you?"

          "I was busy with something and forgot the time," Turais explained hastily as he swung the Cloak of Invisibility over them. "Let's go."

 

***

 

          As they were walking back to the wizarding pub after the lesson, Turais said, "You played very well today. I can hear the improvement."

          "Mr Haskil said so as well," Regulus grinned. "He thinks I can start learning more advanced pieces soon. An entire concerto, even!"

          "That sounds amazing."

          As they passed by the Three Broomsticks, they saw a trio of students exiting the pub.

          It was James, Remus, and Peter. Several leaves fluttered through the air in an odd pattern behind them as though stirred up by an invisible force.

           Sirius

          Turais steered Regulus away forcefully and did not let go until they were in the cellar of Honeydukes.

          "What are you doing?" Regulus hissed, rubbing his wrists. Then he stopped abruptly at the bottom of the staircase. 

          The column of boxes that kept the trapdoor hidden was now leaning against the wall. The latch was also opened, and Turais had a good idea who the culprits were.

          "It was locked. I double-checked!" Regulus hissed. "Someone definitely knows about the passageway beside the two of us -" 

          The door above them creaked open, and they immediately scrambled into the passageway.

          "You know the way back?" 

          "It's a straight tunnel, James." 

          Regulus mouthed incredulously, "Sirius?"

          "And keep my cloak in one piece -" 

          "I promise not to eat or shred it."

          "You better not."

          After a few more exchanges, the door creaked open once more, and James left. The trapdoor swung open as Sirius climbed down the ladder. The moment he closed the latch, he was greeted by two glowing wand tips. 

          Sirius's eyes widened comically before he choked out a "Well, hello there." 

          "You knew?" Regulus accused. 

          "Wow, you took the words right out of my mouth, little brother -"

          "You have an Invisibility Cloak as well?" Regulus gasped. "Is this how you snuck into my room and took my broom?!"

          "Technically, it's James's. And… yes —?"

          "And he told you about this passageway?"

          Sirius sighed. 

          "Turns out he was onto something with the whole Dissendium business — Wait, when did you two know about this place?"

          "Turais told me at the beginning of this year."

          Sirius turned to Turais with a questioning gaze.

          "I discovered this last year," replied Turais.

          Sirius whistled.

          "James is going to explode when he finds out that you knew of this place before he did. He was so proud." He placed a punch on Turais's arm. "And you didn't think to tell your favourite Gryffindor brother —?" 

          They heard a Honeydukes employee descending the stairs, which prompted them to start making their way toward the castle.

          "Why are the two of you here anyways?" Sirius asked after a while.

          Turais looked at Regulus, who muttered reluctantly, "Piano lessons…."

          "Wicked," Sirius laughed. "I didn't know you had it in you to defy Father's explicit orders."

          "Don't you dare tell Father about this. Or Potter. Or anyone, for that matter," Regulus warned. 

          Sirius looked affronted. 

          "Do I look like a snitch?"

          "No," Regulus replied. "But between the three of us, you're the one who can't keep a secret."

          Sirius opened his mouth before snapping it shut again. 

          "Whatever," he grumbled. 

          "You still haven't promised."

          "I thought it was implicit —"

          "SIRIUS!"

          "Alright, alright! I promise! Sheesh, Reggie."

 

***

 

          It was well into October when Turais and Alex met up again for the purpose of training for Occlumency. Turais resumed his journey in Alex's mentally-constructed 12 Grimmauld Place and stopped in front of a visibly worn door that looked as if a sheet of cotton was spread over the cracked wood. 

          It screamed of importance, and Turais pressed a finger against it to test its strength, only for it to crumble before his eyes.

          "May I?"

          Alex nodded, and they stepped over the pile of splintered wood into the room.

          "If I were an intruder in your mind, this would be the first place where I searched for secrets -" 

          Upon the last word, the room contracted and a roped-off section shifted to the foreground. A deep rumble, much greater than anything Turais had experienced before, reverberated beneath their feet. The floorboards started to fall apart.

          Turais looked at Alex's stricken expression and said urgently, "Alex, calm down. Clear your mind, secure your memories -"

          "I'm trying…" Alex gritted out as the incessant fluttering of metallic wings overwhelmed them —

          Alex was pacing around the study when Arcturus swept through the door. 

          "Lord Black," Alex greeted. However, Arcturus did not spare the boy a glance as he made his way to the tea trolley. The man leisurely made his beverage before sitting down in his armchair. All the while, Alex fidgeted in the corner nervously.

          "Sit down," Arcturus said after taking a small sip of tea. "I was informed that you wish to remain at our residency until your graduation."

          "Y...yes, sir." 

          "Why?"

          "I… I enjoy spending my time here."

          "We are not a gentlemen's club, Alexander. Nor a charity."

          The boy's eyes snapped up in worry.

          "I meant no disrespect, sir. I am prepared to pay whatever I owe for your continued hospitality. Mr Black said -"

          "I am the Head of House," Arcturus interrupted. "I, not he, dictate the terms. And I have no need for your coins."

          "Then what else can I offer as payment?"

          Arcturus knotted his fingers together and leaned back. 

          "I am sure you can figure this out if you are half as clever as Turais claims."

          Alex gulped nervously before his eyes widened in realisation. 

          "I… I shall appoint Mr Black as my proxy."

          "Of course, you shall," Arcturus scoffed. "However, that is not the full answer. What I need is someone who shares our vision and remains steadfast in our goals. Someone whom the Lord of House Black, both present… and future… can rely on. I trust this is not a difficult request?"

          Alex nodded silently, and Arcturus's smile grew —

          Turais was expelled from Alex's mind just as he felt a hard shove that sent him sprawling onto the carpet floor of the Room of Requirement. Anger and hurt flared up in his chest from the revelation.

          "When did this happen?" demanded Turais.

          Alex winced. 

          "Beginning of summer. When you had training with Harper."

          "Your decision to select my father as your proxy — it was all just for show? And I assume Grandfather asked you to hide this from me?"

          Alex hung his head and nodded.

          "I'm sorry…."

          "Why are you apologising? My grandfather extorted my best mate!"

          "He was just looking out for your interest."

          "What about your interests?" Turais retorted. "You had nowhere to go. You were under duress! And my grandfather knew that very well! —"  

          "If it's just the vote he wants, then so be it!"

          "Don't you understand, Alex? He doesn't simply want your vote for a few years until you are of age. He is trying to emotionally manipulate you and your sense of obligation —"

           "It's my choice!" Turais whipped around, and Alex flinched. "It's… it's my vote to give away. Not… not yours. Also, he doesn't need to try…."

          "What do you mean?"

          "He already has it. My obligation." Turais rolled his eyes as Alex started to list, "The Malfoy Ball. First year at Hogwarts -"

          "Alex —"

          "— Allowing me to live here —"

          "You don't need to repay me!" 

          "— Making sure I'm not sent to foster care —" 

          "You don't owe us anything! Any decent person would do what I do."

          "Then what about Castelobruxo?" Alex asked softly. "You can't explain that away with decency."

          Turais sucked in a breath before gritting out, "Regulus." 

          "It wasn't him. At Castelobruxo, they told me that a Turais Black withdrew his application, and I connected the dots," Alex revealed. "Don't you see? Instead of receiving help, I can finally be useful for once —"

          Turais let out a frustrated growl and sat down on the couch.

          "You promised," Alex said shakily. "We promised not to be angry at each other no matter what we saw."

          Turais closed his eyes and thumped his fists against the armrest.

          "I agreed to the arrangement, Turais," Alex continued. "And you were fine before you saw the memory. Perhaps, you can… pretend that you never saw it? To undo everything would cause even more damage."

          Turais looked up tiredly and asked, "Is this what you want?"

          "Yes."

          "Fine. Let's do it your way."

          Alex nodded eagerly. 

          "Are we good then?"

          "Yes," Turais replied with a tight smile. He reached out to turn off the alarm, but Alex stopped him.

          "We still have time. I want to try again." At Turais's hesitation, Alex added, "Please. I need to learn."

          Turais relented, and they returned to the disorderly room inside Alex's mind.

          "Now, focus on clearing your mind," Turais instructed. "You have your compartmentalisation system in place. Reinforce that, and make sure everything is well-secured."  

          Alex furrowed his brows as the furniture flew back to its original location: broken bookshelves righted themselves; torn books repaired themselves and fluttered back to their shelves; cracks sealed over, and the walls wiped themselves clean.

          "Good. Very good," Turais breathed. "Now, maintain that focus…." 

          Turais inspected the nearest bookshelf when his gaze fell on a small, battered journal.

          Suddenly, the window beside him exploded, and a cold draft roared throughout the room. He heard Alex stammer an apology.

          "Alex, deep breaths -"

          The floorboards around Turais collapsed. He focused on extracting himself from Alex's mind, but he was quickly engulfed in a chaotic whirl of ripped pages. The bookshelf crashed through the collapsing floor with a thunderous bang. Something hard slammed into Turais’s chest. He stumbled backwards and realised that he was stepping on nothing but air. His body twisted, and he suddenly found himself peering down a dark vortex. 

          Then, he was falling —

          Turais was sitting in the front passenger seat of a car that was travelling along a winding, deserted road. Turning his head, he noticed a grey-haired woman with silvery eyes in the driver's seat. However, he was unable to discern any other facial features as the rest of her face was covered by an odd veil of mist. Peering out of the window, he saw the dark, moonless sky, but the faint glimmer of the sun peeking out over the horizon suggested that the breaking dawn would soon be upon them. There was a light shuffling sound behind him, and Turais saw two boys huddled together under a thin blanket, sleeping soundly. With matching outfits and similar haircuts, they looked almost identical.

           With a jolt, Turais realised what was about to happen. 

           Turais whipped around just in time to see two blinding lights blazing up ahead like the shining eyes of a predator. 

          An approaching lorry was in their lane, and it showed no sign of slowing down. Dread pooled in Turais's stomach as the woman slammed on the brakes and turned the car, so the passenger's side was to the oncoming vehicle.

         The sound of skidding tires shattered the silence as the car spun out of control. The last thing Turais saw was a deadly cascade of broken glass.

          Distress coursed through Alex's mind, threatening to spill over their shared connection. However, Turais held the barrier in place and kept the ferocious storm at bay.

          The scene blurred for a brief moment before coming into sharp focus once more…

         Suddenly, the world righted itself, and Turais found himself sitting on the pavement of an intersection as a lorry slammed into the car. 

         The car tumbled down the road in a trail of flames —

         "Mum?" the boy wondered aloud, confusion and fear seeping into his voice. "Ashleigh?"

          Turais tried to abort the memory when he was seized by an unnatural coldness. Looking around, he realised he was immobilised in a thick column of ice.

         The car burst into a giant fireball —

          The final scene repeated, then repeated again, stuck in a never-ending loop. Turais resurfaced for a moment and saw a giant wave crash over 12 Grimmauld Place. He was dragged under once more as a crippling sense of dread permeated from the frigid confines. 

          Turais reached out through the mental connection, casting a feeble ray of light in the void. Alex's mind lunged desperately toward the connection. The ice split and Turais yanked on the memory tethers forcefully. 

         This time, Alex allowed it to unravel.

         The pair plunged into a strange darkness until the world burst into a kaleidoscope of colours. Images and light elongated, warped, and flashed across Alex's eyes as they continued their frenzied descent.

          The tunnel opened up into a large cavern where rocks were suspended in mid-air like a hanging mobile. One of them collided against the pair, and Alex heard Turais grunt painfully before they spun out of control. Everywhere Alex looked was a swirl of brown and grey when suddenly, he spilt onto the solid, cobblestone ground. 

           He stood up with a grunt and observed the strange landscape.        

           Under a ceiling of stalactites stood a replica of Diagon Alley. However, the street was desolate and dark, with only the street lamps standing vigil. The dust-covered storefronts were devoid of displays, which was just as well because no one else was there to enjoy them. 

          Alex suddenly realised that his companion was nowhere in sight.

          "Turais?" Alex's voice echoed hollowly, but there was no response.

          He was completely alone.

          With the silence pressed deep into his ears, Alex inched towards the most prominent structure he could see. He entered the marble antechamber with tall columns and magnificent chandeliers that were covered by a fine layer of dust.

          By the door was a solitary brass lamp, itself half lost in darkness. Alex took it from its hanger, and the light within flickered on.

          "Turais?" Alex called out again as he passed the long rows of empty desks.

          The floor beneath his feet suddenly gave way —

          Alex was standing in front of the Black family tree tapestry, but something was different. Turais's name and face were missing as if he never existed, while a black, burnt mark stained where Sirius's face was supposed to be. Only Regulus's portrait remained unchanged, and Alex frowned at the banner, which read: 1961 - 1979. 

           He quickly searched for other discrepancies and saw Orion's portrait stated 1929 - 1979 —

          Alex landed painfully in a minecart, which jolted alive. He sat up just in time to see vaults flit by faster and faster as the cart tumbled into new depths. The track twisted around towering stalagmites and over underground rivers when it plunged towards a cascading waterfall.

          "No!" 

          That was all Alex could gasp out before he was completely submerged in icy water —

          Alex was sitting on a wooden boat in an unnaturally still subterranean lake. 

           A shimmer of light flashed in the distance, and Alex turned to look. It was a small crystal island surrounded by an eerie green glow. There was a light bump against the boat, and he cast a wand light over the disturbed patch of water to see the numerous gaunt, skeletal corpses floating idly beneath the surface.

          His eyes focused on the face of a dead man. 

          Something about him felt oddly familiar…

           Regulus.

           Alex immediately scrambled away in fear. However, an Inferius broke through the still surface and clawed up the sides of the violently rocking boat. A hand seized him by the collar, and with a violent yank, it dragged him into the watery depths with insatiable bloodlust in its misty, cobwebbed eyes —

           The cart erupted from behind the veil of water and continued its frenzied descent. It jerked left abruptly and ran along the edge of a cliff next to an abyss. Alex quickly realised that the cart had reached the end of its track and was speeding into a wall. He braced for impact just as he heard the sickening crack of the collision —

          A conglomeration of materials collapsed in front of Alex's eyes. Glancing around, he noticed he was standing in the middle of a High Street. Everything around him was smouldering and burning.

          At his feet was a bloodied man lying in a pile of rubble.

          An involuntary gasp left Alex's lips.

          It was an older version of himself.

          "Shh... It's alright," Alex heard his older self say as his body turned frighteningly still. Alex shook his head minutely at the words. His lips started to move soundlessly before he breathed for the last time —

          Alex found himself plummeting into the unknown depths of the abyss. He turned to look up at the cliff and the destroyed cart —

          Alex tumbled to the bottom of a cavernous, rectangular room with a great sunken stone pit. In the centre stood a strange-looking archway with air rippling like an invisible veil. Shouts of a distant battle echoed from beyond the wall of fog as a rugged man with wavy black hair climbed onto a large boulder. 

          Sirius.

          There was a jet of green light that struck his chest. Sirius's smile froze, and his eyes glazed over. He stumbled backward, arms spread, and through the veil like a fallen angel.         

          An unearthly scream reverberated throughout the chamber.

          "SIRIUS!" —

          "Turais… TURAIS…!" 

          There was an incessant shaking of his shoulders as Turais opened his eyes to see Alex hovering over him. 

          "I'm sorry!" Alex gasped in horror. "I didn't know how to break the connection. Nothing worked!"

          Turais gulped for air greedily until his lungs no longer burnt. His throat felt raw, dry, and scratchy.

          "What was that —"

          "Nightmares," Turais rasped. 

          "But they were so vivid," Alex said. "It felt like a memory —"

          "A recurrent nightmare," Turais insisted. "I… I dream… of the future sometimes… possible futures… In some of them, I see my family dying, and I can do nothing but watch."

          Alex wanted to argue that it couldn't possibly be mere nightmares… that even by his limited knowledge of Occlumency, nightmares did not manifest themselves in this manner… that the visceral pain and heartache he sensed from Turais was genuine…

          However, no other explanation made sense.

         "It will never happen," Alex said immediately. "We'll make sure of it."

          Turais nodded shakily. 

          But what Alex didn't know was that everything had happened once before.

Chapter 75: The Last Fawley

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

THE LAST FAWLEY


 

- Alexander Fawley -

 

***

 

 No. 3117 — November 30th, 1973

ON THE RISE: FIVE OF QUIDDITCH LEAGUE'S BIGGEST BREAKOUT STARS

By Sparrow Plunkett

 

 5. Carmichael Wilkins (Appleby Arrows)

The first on the Quidditch Times' 'Players to Watch' list is the 19-year-old fresh graduate and former Slytherin captain from Hogwarts. Carmichael Wilkins, whose one-year deal with the team was signed without much fanfare, has turned out to be one of the greatest picks in the Q.L.

The Appleby Arrows wouldn't be in the race for a first-round bye in the League Cup without their breakout star Beater, who is charting a course towards a fourth M.V.P. in the same number of games played.

"Preparation creates opportunity," Wilkins, who is known to his teammates as Michael, said by way of explanation. 

One-half of the starting Beater pair, Clyde Flutterwings, was injured in a collision in the team's third game of the season, forcing the team manager to put the reserve Beater in play. That decision has since provided Wilkins access to the spotlight and extended the team's winning streak to five…

 

***

 

 

          "So… are you some sort of Seer?" Alex asked as they headed back to the common room.

          "No. The images in my dreams have been contradictory. Inconsistent. Not like the visions of a true Seer," Turais replied calmly.

          "Like the glimpse of the family tree tapestry that I saw," Alex said immediately. "You weren't on it, which is impossible. And there's no way that… that —"

          The bravado fled him as he bit his lips and fell into a troubled silence.

          "They are merely overactive imaginations of the mind," Turais said firmly. "I won’t be taking them seriously, and neither should you."

          Turais knew Alex had no other option but to accept his explanation. At the boy's reluctant nod, Turais breathed a sigh of relief. 

          "As for the Occlumency sessions," Alex murmured as Turais tensed once more. "I can still help you train, but I was wondering whether I could take a break."

          "If that is what you want," Turais replied, to which Alex nodded. "Let me know when you are ready."

 

***

 

          Turais and Regulus were making their way to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match and, more importantly, Sirius's first game. In a show of support, Turais sported the Gryffindor colours on his robes. A pair of students looked at him, confused, as Regulus hissed, "People are staring."

          "I do look rather dashing in red and gold." 

          Regulus rolled his eyes. 

          "Are you sure I can't convince you to agree to a slight change of style? It's just a wave of the wand." 

          "I'll manage." 

          The brothers managed to secure seats in the front row next to a group of girls muttering furiously amongst themselves. Suddenly, they leapt to their feet and started waving flags high in the air.

          "SIRIUS!" they shrieked. Two girls pulled out a long banner from a magically expanded handbag and draped it over the wall of the stands. 

          YOU'RE THE BEST! SIRIUS-LY! , it read.

          Sirius's confrontation with Rookwood seemed to have earned him many adoring fans.

          "How original," muttered Regulus.

          Sirius noticed the decorations and waved, causing the screams to reach a deafening level. It was only until Marlene McKinnon, the new commentator since Winston Hawthorne's graduation, announced the start of the match that they finally settled down.

          "Doesn't he just look divine in his Quidditch uniform?" one of the girls said. The others let out a collective, dreamy sigh while Regulus struggled to keep his composure. 

          After his first goal, Sirius made a beeline towards their section and winked at his fawning fans.

          "Focus on the Quaffle, will you?" Regulus shouted at the smug Chaser. "Your team is twenty points behind!"  

          "On it!" Sirius patted Regulus on the head before flying off.

          Regulus rearranged his hair with a dark scowl. One of the girls, Belinda, eyed Regulus and said, "Isn't your brother such a sweetheart? Do you think I'm his type?"

          "Might I suggest you ask him yourself?" Regulus said through clenched jaws as Turais suppressed a grin.

          "I should… but I'm just so nervous," she hummed. "Do you think he'd agree to a Hogsmeade date? Madam Puddifoot's is always a good place for a first date…." 

          The Gryffindors ultimately fell to the technically superior Hufflepuff team, and the girls discussed whether they should find Sirius to console him for the loss. Turais started to leave, but Regulus hung back and turned to the girl beside him.

          "Actually… I just remembered something," Regulus said. Belinda immediately leaned in as Regulus whispered something into her ears.

          "Are you sure?" She frowned. "He never showed interest in them during class." 

          "He just hides it very well. Remember. The bigger and more colourful, the better." 

          The girl immediately turned to her neighbour and started muttering furiously, Gryffindor's defeat all but forgotten. 

 

***

 

          Turais and Regulus were walking past a busy intersection when the older boy paused and stared at the empty wall marked by remnants of torn Spellotape. After a quick detour around the castle, he realised that many posters, his included, had mysteriously vanished.

          "Who would go around stealing posters?" Turais wondered aloud, but his thoughts were cut short when Sirius ran out of the Great Hall screaming profanities as he was pursued by a herd of rainbow-coloured unicorn plushies. Turais waved off the lingering cloud of glitter as Regulus sighed happily.

          "What did you do?" Turais asked as they sat down next to Jonty.

          "I might have let slip to certain… parties of interest that Sirius loves unicorns." 

          "Was that necessary?" 

          "For what his fangirls put me through yesterday? Absolutely."

          Turais shook his head and reached for a plate of sausages when he noticed a giant pile of pamphlets in the centre of the table.

CAREER ADVICE

All fifth years in Slytherin House will be required to attend a short meeting with Professor Slughorn during the last week of October, in which they will be given the opportunity to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below.

          "I thought this happened later in the year," Turais said with a frown.

          Jonty looked up. "What do you mean? It's always been in October."

          Turais read through the list of names and found that he was expected in Professor Slughorn's office at half-past three on Wednesday, meaning he would miss most of his History of Magic class.

          There was a distinct lack of interest regarding the upcoming career advice session amongst their Slytherin peers. Many of them were set to join their family businesses upon graduation, while Turais was similarly nonchalant because he already knew his intentions of becoming an Auror. Thus, he spent most of his time helping Alex sift through the batch of brochures and leaflets. Jonty, on the other hand, busied himself by charming the parchments and testing which ones made the best paper aeroplanes.

          "You don't need many qualifications for wand-making…." Turais said, reviewing the neon-green leaflet. "They recommend N.E.W.T. levels in Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Magical Theory, but the most important part is securing an apprenticeship under an experienced Master…."

          Turais trailed off when he noticed Alex staring at an elegant purple-and-white pamphlet.

          "Are you interested in Healing as well? I thought you always wanted to become a wandmaker." 

          "I'm just weighing my options," Alex said hastily. Meanwhile, one of Jonty's paper aeroplanes made several vertical loops before crashing into a unicorn's horn on a wall tapestry. 

          "Score!" Jonty cheered loudly as the unicorn flicked its ears irritatedly. 

          "Well, Healing requires N.E.W.T.s of either 'Outstanding' or 'Exceeds Expectations' in Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Turais.

          Jonty whistled.

          "That's the same as becoming an Auror. Might I just add that I can never fathom why anyone would study so hard in order to throw themselves in harm's way...."

          "There is a combat healer path in the Auror program," Turais noted. "One year at the Auror Academy followed by two years at St. Mungo's with a specialisation in field healing."

           Alex stared at both pamphlets for a moment longer before shifting them to the side.

           "Oh, this one is interesting. Listen: Are you seeking a rewarding career that involves the occasional breaking and entering (legally)? Ward Architects are responsible for designing and maintaining protective enchantments, ranging from state-of-the-art security systems found in Gringotts to simple baby access wards and everything in between! If you are a detail-oriented, analytical individual with a collaborative mindset and the ability to improvise, this is the perfect career for you. Didn't Professor Mather suggest this to you once, Turais?"

          Turais hummed noncommittally.

          On the day of the career appointment, Turais did not bother making his way to History of Magic and waited until it was time to appear in front of Professor Slughorn's office.

          "My boy!" Slughorn greeted jovially in his pyjamas. "Is there something you wish to discuss?" 

          "Sir? I thought it was our meeting for career advice." 

          Slughorn furrowed his brow briefly before chuckling as if Turais had made a particularly funny joke. 

          "The appointment is a mere formality. Now, go enjoy the rest of your afternoon. Unless I can convince you to join me for a cup of tea." 

          Turais closed the door behind him and took a seat by the fireplace. He searched through his pocket and pulled out a crumpled page. "Professor… while I was perusing the pamphlets, I found this."

          "Ward Architect?" Slughorn glanced at the page briefly before handing Turais his cup of tea. "You'd need top grades for that, but I daresay Lord Black already has something planned for when you graduate."

          "I do not intend to focus solely on building a political career, regardless of my grandfather's wishes."

          Slughorn coughed. After searching Turais's expression, the professor straightened himself and summoned a folder from across the room.

          "Well, they ask for at least five N.E.W.T.s, with nothing less than 'Exceeds Expectations' in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts," Slughorn explained. "According to Professor Vector, you are averaging 'Acceptable' in Arithmancy at the moment. For the other subjects, you have been consistently graded at 'Outstanding'. Therefore, I would advise you to concentrate your efforts on Arithmancy, but I have every confidence in you to succeed."

          "You flatter me, Professor."

          "It is only flattery when untrue," Slughorn replied easily. "And while Potions is not a requirement, I can surely count on you to take the N.E.W.T. level course?"

          "I would not dream of doing otherwise, sir."

          "Excellent! Ah, while I have you here, I would like to notify you that the Slug Club dinner will be held next Saturday at seven. I know it is very short notice, but it is just a casual gathering amongst the Slytherin students."

          Turais nodded. "I look forward to it, Professor."

          "And make sure to bring your guest," Slughorn said with a wink.

          "I will."

 

***

 

         It was the second meeting of the Monthly Quidditch Friendlies, and everyone was focused on the Rookwood-led team, the Bloody Superiors, as they darted around the pitch on seven golden and gleaming brooms - the special edition Nimbus 1750s. There had been rumours that Rookwood and his pals had received top-of-the-line equipment and clothes, but this was the first time Turais saw evidence of that.

          "The bloody wankers actually have new brooms," Sirius said begrudgingly.

          "Look at those dragonhide gloves! The boots as well! Those are from Draconique." James squinted through his Omnioculars. "And the Cosmos watch! Goblin-cast gold and ruby-encrusted. Merlin, it looks gaudy, but it costs a fortune. Even I wouldn't be able to convince my parents to buy me those." 

          "Is this the standard now?" Regulus said tartly. "Whether Potter can whine his way to something or not?"

          "Is that a compliment?" James asked with a cheeky grin. 

          "It is for your parents if anything," said Severus.

          "I've decided that it's a compliment!" 

          "Then I must have said it wrong," replied Regulus.

          James narrowed his eyes at the two Slytherins. 

          "I don't like where this is going. Sirius, back me up. Sirius!"

          The other Gryffindor continued looking through his Omnioculars and said, "So they've called you a rich, spoiled brat. Did that stop being true?" 

          James smacked Sirius on the head while Severus and Regulus shared a smirk.

 

***

 

          The end of November brought the highly anticipated battle between Ravenclaw and the reigning champions, Slytherin.

          "This is Black's first match as captain," said Marlene McKinnon. "His decision to play as Chaser has turned many heads. Along with the departure of veteran flyers such as the Cornfoot-Wilkins duo, we must wonder whether Black's controversial line-up will be able to maintain Slytherin's success after such a dramatic reshuffling of the team."

         The Slytherin team initially vaulted into an early lead with a strong performance from the Chasers. However, a Snitch catch by Ravenclaw's newest Seeker, Cynthia Edevane, reversed fortunes and ended the game in Ravenclaw's favour.

          After the match, Regulus stormed off the pitch with a dark scowl amidst a smattering of boos from the closest stands, an effort from a few selected individuals spearheaded by Rookwood.

          "We played a good game," Turais said to the dejected faces around him. "We only need to iron out a few creases in our strategy and win the next two matches. Alright?" 

          There was a chorus of half-hearted 'Yes, Captain's before they retreated to their individual corners. 

          "I'm sorry," Regulus muttered when the two brothers were walking up to the castle.

          "It's Quidditch. We win some, and we lose some."

          Regulus glanced around before huffing frustratedly, "This one is different… It's your first match as captain and the chance to prove you made the right choices. But we lost."

          "We've won two Cups in three years. There's nothing left to prove."

          "Maybe that's true for you —"

          Rookwood slammed his shoulder into Regulus from behind, causing the Seeker to stumble.

          "If your father had known you would be such a disappointment, he would've stopped at two children!" Rookwood sneered. When he turned to walk away, there was a loud squelch of mud as he sank knee-deep into a small swamp. He tried to pull himself free but ended up falling over.

          Turais made a show of putting away his wand and hummed, "I swear that wasn't there a moment ago."

          "Get me out," Rookwood shouted in panic, now half-buried in the quagmire with only his head and shoulders visible. The rest of his gang was too busy struggling with their own muddy situation to help. "Someone get me out!"

          Turais turned to Regulus, but the younger boy had already marched off. Turais caught up to him and remained silent for the rest of their walk to the kitchen, where Sirius was waiting with several plates of food.

          "What do you want to drink?" Sirius asked earnestly.

          "Why do you say it like that?" Regulus grumbled.

          "How did I say it?"

          "Like I am in need of one."

          Turais shot a placating look at Sirius before placing a chilled pumpkin juice in front of Regulus. The youngest boy eyed the goblet for a long moment before sipping at it. 

          "There's always the next match," Turais consoled.

          "I know... I'm fine."

          "And the Probity Probe determined that was a lie," Sirius muttered. Regulus glared before snatching his broom off the table and stomping off. "Oi! I was joking! Come back!"

          The door swung shut, and Sirius sat down dejectedly.

          "How do you do it? Talking to him. I don't think I know how."

          "He values his privacy," Turais sighed. "And I try to give him plenty of space." 

          "He does that well enough without our help…."

          Turais shrugged. "Some people just need a bit more of it than others."

          "But how would you know if he's in trouble?" 

          "I have to trust that he'll find me if he needs help," Turais said. 

          "Do you think he'll do that?"

          "I trust you to tell me if you run into trouble, and there is no reason for me to think differently in his case."

          "I hope you're right."

 

***

 

          "Does Slughorn even know I exist?" Alex asked as he adjusted his tie. "Did you mishear him?"

          "He practically told me to bring you along on the train ride here and reminded me again during career talks."

          "You went?" Jonty looked at Turais in the mirror while combing his hair.

          "We had a nice chat over tea."

          "I suppose there is a reason why you are his favourite." 

          When it was time to leave, Turais went up to Regulus's dormitory only to find his brother was missing.

          "He might have gone ahead with his friends," Alex suggested weakly. Unsurprisingly, Regulus was nowhere to be seen in Slughorn's office, and Turais had to make up an excuse when asked. Fortunately, the professor accepted it and immediately started introducing him to the younger students.

          "And I will make sure you get to know him well," Slughorn said as he dragged Turais in front of none other than Barty Crouch. "You've met Bartemius on the Hogwarts Express."

          "Ah, yes. I remember."

          "He is extremely bright. Reminds me of you. Would have given you a run for your Galleons if he were a few years older," Slughorn chuckled. "Of course, you would still edge him out as my top student. Have a chat and get to know each other!"

          Crouch watched Slughorn leave before letting his gaze fall to the ground. He whispered, "Have you noticed anything odd with Rookwood lately?"

          "What do you mean?"

          "Rookwood is plotting something. I don't know what, but it's related to all the expensive gifts he's been receiving. And the missing posters as well."

          Turais frowned. "How is it that I haven't heard about this?" 

          "Rookwood has kept an extremely tight lid on things. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time to overhear them."

           Turais narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

          "I am curious. Why did you come to me with this information?"

          "You dislike me," Crouch said suddenly. "Ever since we first met on the train."

          "I don't."

           Crouch met Turais's eyes for the first time. An odd expression crossed his face before he let out a sigh and left. 

          "I'd watch that one." Jonty sidled up next to Turais and watched the boy's departing figure. "Overheard his father's Howler ordering him to make peace with you. Mind you, he opens them in the dungeons to avoid making a scene in the Great Hall, but you can hear it through the pipes if you know where to stand."

          "We haven't quarrelled," said Turais.

          Jonty arched his brow in disbelief. 

          "Could've fooled me. You treat him differently. Polite but distant. Don't bother denying it. Same with that mousy boy who clings onto Sirius. What's he called again?"

          "Pettigrew?"

          "Ah yes, that's the name. Is there something I should know about?" 

          "You know I'm not answering that, Jonty."

          Jonty shrugged before pressing his voice low and asking, "How about Alex?"

          Turais glanced at the boy in question, who was nodding along to whatever Slughorn was saying, and shook his head.

          "Nothing? It's taking an awfully long time to resolve, isn't it?"

          "I'm worried," Turais admitted.

          "Surely your father is looking into the matter."

          "He has not mentioned anything of such in his letters." Turais paused before saying, "But I don't know if he's been completely truthful about what he knows." 

          "How do you mean?"

          "On the one hand, he's been treating Alex differently ever since last year. More attentive. More affectionate. On the other hand, he's been ill at ease whenever I bring up Alex's situation."

          "That's indeed odd," Jonty said. "Are you sure Alex is not his illegitimate —"

          "Do not speak so recklessly. My father is an honourable man," Turais said sternly.

          "Sorry," Jonty muttered. "But how else would you explain the abrupt shift in attitude?"

          "That is the question of the day, isn't it?"

          Jonty hummed. "Well, I'll let you know if I hear anything."

          "Thank you."

 

***

 

          For the next several weeks, Turais paid extra attention to Rookwood and his circle of friends, but he didn't find anything beyond their usual blatant animosity. 

          "Everything I said was true," Crouch hissed when Turais cornered him on the way to the carriages departing Hogwarts. "But they've been laying low recently. After Christmas. I think you'll discover something useful then."

          "Why after Christmas?" Turais asked sharply.

          "Well, the term is over, isn't it?"

          "Are you making a fool out of me? Or is this some sort of personal vendetta against Rookwood —?"

          "Turais!" Sirius shouted from the courtyard. "It's time to leave." 

          "Enjoy your holiday, Black," Crouch sighed before ascending the Grand Staircase.

          The cold was bitter, and snow lay in heavy masses over the grounds. The students sprinted onto the carriages, then again onto the scarlet train, desperately avoiding exposure to the biting wind. With a welcoming blare of the horn, the Hogwarts Express started its southward journey.

          "I didn't know you knit," Regulus said when Sirius whipped out a pair of needles.

          "Lily taught me. I find it quite therapeutic."

          Regulus peered inside the bag and picked up a small, tube-shaped piece of fabric. 

          "And what are these?"

          "Leg warmers for birds."

          "What? Birds? "

          "These are for ducks. The larger ones are for geese and swans —"

          "That's not what I meant," Regulus retorted. "Why are you trying to put leg warmers on a bird?!"

          "They are very unhappy with the cold —"

          "And how exactly would you know that?"

          "They told me so, of course."

          "Of course," Regulus said sardonically. "Because you speak codswallop?"

          "It's actually called Flapdoodle. Codswallop is for freshwater fishes," Sirius replied earnestly, leaving Regulus flummoxed and silent. Alex glanced at Turais in confusion, who merely rolled his eyes. 

           Soon, they arrived at King's Cross, where Orion was awaiting. After a quick trip through the Floo, they were back home.

          "Welcome back," Kreacher greeted as they climbed out of the fireplace. "Master Orion,  representatives from Gringotts have just arrived. They are waiting for Master Orion in the study."

          "Help the boys unpack," Orion said before walking towards the door.

          "The goblins would also like to speak to Master Turais's friend," Kreacher called out.

          Orion's forehead creased as he turned to Alex.

          "Well, come on then."

          Turais gave his anxious friend an encouraging squeeze and watched them disappear into the study. The conversation continued past supper and well into the night. Finally, the goblins left, and Alex emerged from the study, looking exhausted and perturbed.

          "Are you alright?" Turais asked, but the boy merely shook his head and climbed the stairs. Upon hearing their footsteps, Sirius poked his head out of his room and peppered them with questions. 

          "Later," Turais said firmly. He locked the door and cast an Imperturbable Charm over it. "Alex, why were the goblins here?" 

          "They were here to discuss the estate transfer. It's completed, but…."

          "But what?"

          "I am not his son," Alex whispered shakily. 

          "What do you mean?" 

          "Howard Fawley… He was not my father." 

          Turais slumped into a chair as he tried to process the information.

          "H… How is that possible?"

          Alex wrung his arms helplessly. "No one knows. Your father doesn't understand it either."

          "Can the goblins help you find your real father?"

          "If they can, they are not willing to help. All they care about is that I am confirmed to be Howard Fawley's next of kin and the sole heir of the family estate."

          Turais searched for something to say and found none. Ultimately, he settled with a regretful, "I'm sorry."

          Alex sniffed. "Me too."

 

***

 

          "I would like to return to Fawley House," Alex said during breakfast the following morning.

          "Kreacher," Orion folded the newspaper and said, "Sirius and Regulus will be having their breakfast upstairs today."

         Sirius started complaining, but a sharp look from Orion quelled all dissent. Under Kreacher's watchful gaze, the two boys dragged their feet up the stairs.

         "Alexander," Orion started. "Take this from a man who has walked this earth for several more years than you. There are some stones better left unturned."

          "I understand, Mr Black, but I want to find out —"

          "What you want is not a concern of mine," Orion said sharply. Alex snapped his gaze up at the severe tone, and Orion continued, "What you should note is that as long as you are an underaged wizard residing at my house, you shall abide by my rules —"

         "It's my birth father. I have the right to know." 

         "If you would rather stay at another foster home, I will not stop you from leaving," Orion said coldly. "However, if you take a single step outside of this house, do not expect to be welcomed back. The choice is yours to make. You are dismissed!" 

          Alex rubbed his eyes furiously and left. 

          Turais glared at his father.

          "Why are you so desperate to prevent him from seeking the truth? Are you trying to hide the identity of Alex's father?"

          "No, I am not. But Alex is a Fawley. The magic of Wizengamot and Gringotts both attest to that. That should be the end of the matter." 

          "Is it because our family was complicit in their demise?"

          "We have never had dealings with the Fawleys in the past. Not until you brought Alex here." 

          "If we have nothing to hide, then why would you forbid him from leaving?" Turais demanded. "He has a right to know!"

          "Because I am trying to protect him from the possible truths," Orion breathed harshly. "From the suspicious decline of his House to the circumstances surrounding Howard Fawley's disappearance to Alex's paternity mystery, it is evident that something extraordinary has occurred."

          "But rather than investigate it, you are determined to ignore it and force us to do the same."

          "Yes. Because the truth costs. One pays whilst in search of it and, upon its uncovering, may be exacted an even greater price. I fear for what Alex shall discover at the expense of his innocence and peace of mind."

          "I doubt he has much of that left."

          "And I endeavour to safeguard what remains. Turais, do not enable him," warned Orion.

          "As you wish," Turais muttered. He walked out of the room and found Alex standing around the corner dejectedly. "Come on."

          Returning to Alex's bedroom, Turais said, "Fawley House likely holds all the answers. We just need to figure out a way to get there."

          "I thought you promised your father."

          Turais shifted uncomfortably. 

          "Well, I lied."

          "But what if he follows through with his threat? I don't want to risk ending up in foster care."

          "You won't," Turais promised. "Father doesn't have it in him to do such a thing. Also, my grandfather will never allow it because he needs your vote." 

          Alex nodded. 

          "Then what's the plan?"

          "I propose we take a slight… excursion during the family Christmas Party. Father will be busy attending to guests, and we can slip away like we always do. No one will bat an eyelash."

          Later that day, Turais crept into the sitting room and tapped his wand on the fireplace mantel. The controls for the Floo network appeared, and Turais searched for the thread that led to Fawley House, but the connection was non-existent. 

          Disappointed, he returned to his room and found Orion standing in front of his desk.

          "Did you find what you were looking for?" Orion asked unceremoniously. A look at Turais's stunned expression was all he needed as he continued, "The Floo will remain closed until you return to Hogwarts. And do not even think about Apparating. This nonsense stops here and now."

          "Slytherin parents!" Turais groaned when he broke the news to Alex.

          "What do we do now?" Alex asked.

          "We'll just have to do it the old-fashioned way." 

 

***

 

          For the rest of the week, Turais and Alex plotted their escape plan while playing up the roles of two defeated teenage boys in front of Orion. Finally, the day of the family Christmas Party arrived. While decidedly less lavish than the events hosted by the Malfoys, the guest list was no less extensive. Malfoy and the Lestranges were both in attendance, and the upcoming wedding was the favoured topic of discussion.

          Narcissa and Lucius smiled tightly and nodded along.

          "Some might characterise the choice as… adventurous," said Arcturus.

          "And you are the judge for the passions of love?" Pollux asked as his son, Cygnus, leered. He turned to Orion and said, "That reminds me… Walburga will be in attendance for her favourite niece's wedding. I trust it will not be an issue?"

          "Of course not," Orion replied through clenched teeth.

          "And you, Turais?"  

          "I look forward to watching her brazen out her misdeeds," Turais replied coolly. Cygnus's smug grin disappeared. "Now, if you would excuse me…."

          Turais made eye contact with Alex, who was standing by the drinks table, and they scurried out of the room. After quickly changing into less restrictive clothes, Turais opened the window and asked, "Ready?"

          Alex nodded, and Turais swung one leg over the window sill when there was a loud pop.

          "Master Orion commanded Kreacher to ensure Master Turais and his friend do not leave unannounced," Kreacher said shakily. With a snap of his bony fingers, Turais was knocked back as the window slammed shut. "K… Kreacher will do what he m… must —"

          "Kreacher, please!" Alex pleaded.

          "Master Orion commanded —"

          "Three hours, Kreacher," Turais said quickly. "Three hours is all we need. We will be back before the Ball is over."

          Kreacher stared at Turais before twisting his ears in a deathly vice grip. With a pained whimper, he repeated, "Master Turais and his friend cannot leave unannounced ."

          Turais immediately understood.

          "Kreacher, Alex and I will be leaving home for a short time. I command you not to tell Father of our absence until we return."

          Kreacher nodded, relief clear in his eyes.

          "Thank you, Kreacher," Turais whispered. He slid the window open once more and climbed out. He and Alex tip-toed through the back garden and over the fence, then ran out of the alleyway. Turais immediately raised his right hand.

          There was a deafening "BANG!" as a violently purple triple-decker screeched to a full stop in front of them. A young, pimpled man with mussy hair hopped out and did a flourishing bow. Then he leaned against the engine and grinned, revealing his crooked and tobacco-stained teeth.

          "Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Lee Bytheway, and I will be your conductor this evening."

          Turais pressed two Galleons into Lee's palm and waved at his flabbergasted friend to climb aboard. "Keep the change."

          The man squinted at the two golden coins under the lamp before tucking them safely into his coin pouch. Then he guided them up the staircase and past half a dozen brass bedsteads. Turais looked over the railing and recognised the middle-aged driver, Ernie Prang, whose black, voluminous hair was waxed upward into two pointy horns.

          "These two're yers," Lee said. "Where are you lads 'eaded?"

          "Fawley House," Turais said.

          "You 'eard 'im, Ern," shouted Lee.

          "Next stop: Fawley House!" Ernie repeated as he cranked the brake.

          Turais managed to fix the beds in place with a wandless Auxilia just before a second "BANG!" sounded. In a flash, everything else piled up at the back of the bus while streetlights and cars leapt out of the bus's path.

         "You two want chocolate?" Lee asked, balancing two paper cups on the back of his hand.

          "No."

          "Toofbrushes an' water bottles?" 

          Turais shook his head. 

          " Prophet ?"

          Turais pulled out another Galleon and flicked it at Lee, who caught it deftly with one hand. "Can you leave us?"

          With a tip of his cap and a toothy grin, Lee walked away, whistling.

          "Are we making a mistake?" Alex asked as he watched the dark streets of London flit past the windows.

          "If you want to go back, just say the word," Turais said gently. "However, I have discovered that the past always catches up to us in the end. The best we can do is determine when and how it happens." 

          "But what if your father was right? What if I find something I don't like?"

          "Then we'll face it together. Whatever it may be." 

 

***

 

          The boys stepped off the Knight Bus and onto a deserted road swirling in a thick soup of fog. Just as Turais turned to ask where they were, the door slammed shut, and the vehicle vanished with a loud toot of its horn. 

          The fog parted to reveal a pair of iron-wrought gates, which creaked open with a groan.

          "Is this the place?" Turais asked, and Alex nodded.

          The pale moonlight filtered through the branches as they walked up the long avenue of trees to a white-limestone Renaissance chateau choked by twisting vines.

          Just as they reached the front step of the Manor, there was a loud crack, and an elderly house-elf with a pair of sharp, calculating eyes appeared.

          "Master Fawley has returned to his home," the house-elf muttered as he led them inside.

          The hallway was pitch black, and Turais lit his wand. Alex hissed, "The Trace!"

          "They can't tell in magical households with registered house-elves," Turais replied. 

          They turned into a dark gallery of framed pictures of men and women in deep slumber and into the drawing room. Every piece of furniture was covered by a thin layer of white, like snow, turning the brightest colours in a dull, muted shade. Turais brushed a finger over it and realised it was all dust.

          Alex sneezed violently, and the house-elf said, "Master Fawley should have notified Gimkey of his return. Gimkey would have had the time to clean properly…."  

          There was a series of clinks as chipped cups and broken jars floated through the door.

          "Does Master require tea?"

          Alex looked at the mouldy biscuits and shook his head. 

          "Gimkey," Turais said. "We are here for answers. Who is Alex's father?"

          "Gimkey need not answer questions from a stranger."

          "Gimkey," Alex ordered. "You must answer everything Turais asks. Truthfully."

          Gimkey bowed deeply.

          "Gimkey does not know."

          "I command you to speak the truth!" Alex shouted, and the house-elf repeated his words. "Impossible!"

          "Who is Alex related to?" Turais asked.

          "Gimkey wonders as well."

          No matter how they worded their questions, the house-elf repeated his claim of ignorance.

          "He's lying!" Alex hissed after Turais pulled him aside. "There is no way he doesn't know anything." 

          "He's telling the truth, Alex," Turais replied. He looked at Gimkey and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But merely choosing the parts he wishes to tell. And we simply don't have enough information to force an unambiguous answer."

          "But I am his Master. Why would he do such a thing?" 

          "Because his loyalty lies elsewhere. A past Lord, perhaps…."

          Returning to the gallery, Turais examined the portraits until he came across one that stood out amongst the rest. Unlike the others, it was well-kept and dust-free, with the golden placard gleaming brightly under the light of his wand.

          "Hansel Fawley…. " Turais breathed. "We must wake him up. He is the only one who can convince Gimkey to tell us the truth."

          However, unlike the portraits at Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, no amount of prodding or shouting roused the snoring figure. It was as if he was under an enchanted sleep.

          "Gimkey!" Alex shouted, and the house-elf scuttled over. "Wake the portraits."

          Gimkey snapped his fingers, and the boys looked up expectantly. However, nothing happened.

          "The portraits will not respond to Gimkey."

          "Then try harder," Alex growled.

          "Gimkey is an old house-elf. He is trying his best, but it may take time —" 

          "Leave us!" Alex shouted. The house-elf obliged and disappeared with a pop. "We are wasting time. This is no use! We are better off searching this Manor for the genealogy books ourselves." 

          "I suspect Gimkey has hidden them away as well."

          "Then what can we do? I don't even know how long it will take to earn his loyalty or if that is even possible —"

          "Wasn't there another house-elf?" Turais asked abruptly. "In your memory, when you first came to Fawley House?"

          Alex nodded and shouted, "Tully!"

          A few seconds later, there was a light thud behind them as a small, swaying figure stumbled into view.

          Tully was sipping at a bottle of butterbeer before she leaned against Alex's leg. Letting out a loud burp, she muttered, "Did someone call for Tully?"

          " Evigilante, " Turais muttered, and Tully was bathed in an orange glow. The house-elf's eyes grew impossibly large, and she made a loud retching sound. Tully dropped the bottle and stood alert, now completely sober.

          "Master!" she cried out. "Master has returned —"

          "Tully," Alex said urgently. "I need you to listen to me carefully. Who is my birth father?" 

          Tully froze. Her eyes darted upwards to Hansel Fawley's portrait in fear.

          "Old Master commanded Tully to never utter it —"

          "He is dead. Everyone in this family is dead. I am the last Fawley," Alex said fiercely. "As your only Master, answer me!"

          Tully wailed and fell to her knees. Large beads of tears streamed down her wrinkled face as she sobbed.

          "What are you hiding from me?!"

          Tully squeezed her eyes shut as though she could not bear to see their reactions.

          "Tully is a bad elf," she hiccuped. "Tully could not save poor Master Henry —"

          "Henry? Was my father called Henry?" 

          Tully gave a trembling nod, and Alex's breath hitched.

          "But there has never been a Henry in the Fawley family," said Turais.

          Tully shook her head ferociously. "The old Master had two sons."

          "But —" Turais gasped in realisation. "Henry Fawley was a Squib." 

          "Master Henry had brought shame to the family. Poor Master was forced to live separately, in the village ...."

          "What happened to him?"

          "Tully was responsible for keeping Master safe and well, but Tully failed," she sobbed. "It is all Tully's fault. It is all Tully's fault —"

           Alex seized Tully by her tea cosy, but Turais immediately broke his grip.

           "Let me handle this," Turais said calmly as the terrified house-elf immediately crawled under a table. Alex flung Turais's hand away roughly, but he took a step back. Turais knelt down and said, "Tully, it's alright. We just want to know the truth. We won't hurt you —" 

         "Hurt Tully? Master Howard hurt Tully," she muttered frantically, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. "He threw knives at her… ordered her to stay underwater for hours… set snakes after her…  causing Tully pain as his illness did to him. Only the old Master could control him… Poor old Master. He was kind to Tully, but he grew old. One day, he slept and never woke up again. That day, Tully was cleaning up the old Master's bedroom when she sensed a terrible scream. She went to Master Henry's house at once and saw… and saw…." 

          "What did you see?" 

          "Blood…" Tully whispered with a haunted expression. "Blood… everywhere… Master Henry was lying on the floor, and Master Howard was standing over him  — " 

          Turais could imagine the terrified eyes of a defenceless man, Howard's sallow face as it twisted into a malicious grin, and those insane, slit-like eyes flashing with glee as he slashed his wand downwards again and again…

          There was a whimper next to him as Alex sprinted outside. Turais chased after him until the boy collapsed onto the lawn. Then, he let out a near-hysterical sob that was choked with tears.

          "Your father was right," Alex gasped brokenly. "We should have never come here."

 

***

 

          "No, three-quarters means I get seven-and-a-half out of ten," Regulus said as he counted the chocolate pieces and separated them into two clusters.

          "But you chose all the chocolate frogs!" Sirius argued. "Those are the largest pieces."

          "You should be more careful next time you make a deal." 

          "I say we go by weight instead!"

          "Alright. Then I'll take a three-quarter's worth of bite out of every piece," Regulus said as he tore the wrapping.

          "No, that's not what I mean - Hey! " Regulus bagged all the chocolate in one fluid motion and darted out of the room. Sirius immediately chased after him, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Give them back, you little thief!"

          On the other side of the room, Alex and Turais were sitting silently by the fireplace as the Gringotts letter burned to ashes.

          "I'm never going back again," Alex whispered with glistening eyes. "Never."

Chapter 76: Three Ravens in a Crow Roost

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***


CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

THREE RAVENS IN A CROW ROOST


  

          That night, Turais woke up from Alex's mechanical bird tapping on his door.

          "What are you doing here?" Turais whispered. The bird tilted its head and fluttered off. Turais followed it down the stairs back to Alex's bedroom and saw the door was slightly ajar. He knocked and stepped inside.

          Alex stirred. 

          "Turais, is that you?" he croaked. Beads of sweat had gathered on his temple. "I don't feel so good."

          Turais pressed his hand against Alex's forehead and felt his skin burning like a furnace.

          "I'll get help."

          Turais immediately alerted Orion of the situation, and their private Healer, Sybil Quinn, arrived through the Floo a short while later.    

          "How is he?" Turais asked after she finished the diagnostics.

          "He has a serious fever, but it is not life-threatening. I will prescribe the standard set of potions."

          "Thank you, Sybil," Orion said. "Let us discuss more in the study."

          Turais sat down on the chair beside Alex's bed as the door closed behind him. 

          "How are you feeling?"

          "Mostly tired," Alex yawned.

          "The potions will do that. Are you warm enough?" 

          "Yes..." Alex's eyes drooped closed. 

          "Well, you better get well soon. I suspect Sirius will be raiding your stash of Christmas chocolates before long…." 

          However, Alex didn't hear him as he had already drifted back to his potion-induced sleep. Turais quietly left the room and descended the stairs when he heard a door open below him.

          Orion and Sybil walked out, engaged in a whispered conversation that was too soft to overhear. When the Healer left, Turais followed Orion to the study and saw his father looking inside a wooden cabinet leaning over a stone basin. Inside the rising mist was an image of Orion reaching for a shelf in the records room of the French Ministry of Magic. 

          At the sound of the creaking door, Orion immediately tapped on the cabinet doors, which rattled shut.

          "Turais," Orion said, flustered. "How is Alex?"

          "He's asleep," Turais replied. "What did Sybil say?" 

          "She thinks it is a common cold."

          "Is there nothing else –"

          "No," Orion said quickly. "Why were you awake at such an uncommon hour anyway? You should return to sleep. Good night."

          Turais looked at Orion strangely. "Good night, Father."

 

***

 

          For the next two days, Alex remained bedridden as the usual remedies proved ineffective. On the fourth morning, Alex's fever finally broke, and Turais was allowed to sit by his bed and share a simple breakfast of porridge and tea.

          "How are you feeling?" asked Turais.

          Alex grimaced as he lifted the spoon to his lips. 

          "Your father administered a new potion, and its effect was almost instantaneous."

          "I'm glad. But I was referring to something else." 

          Alex set his spoon down and said, "I don't know how I feel or should feel. My father was murdered by my uncle, who is now dead. What can I even do with this knowledge…?" 

          Turais lowered his gaze.

          "I'm sorry."

          "I don't blame you," Alex said quickly. "I… I would have discovered this secret one way or another. Of all the ways it could have unfolded, I am simply glad you were there with me when it did."

          Turais felt the gnawing sensation of guilt in his chest loosen a little.

          "I think it would be best to keep this a secret from everyone else," Alex said. "Especially when everything is already settled."

          Turais nodded. "We don't want to stir up any more attention either —"

          Suddenly, Alex was overcome by a fit of coughs that lasted for over a minute. He fell back on his pillow and whispered, "There must be something wrong with me."

          "What do you mean?" asked Turais worriedly.

          "Three colds in as many years. Neither you nor your brothers fall ill this often."

          "It's bad luck —"

          "There must be an explanation for this. Bad aura. Voodoo. Any reason…."

          Turais managed to assuage Alex's fears with much difficulty. Leaving him to rest, Turais carried the tray of empty bowls and cups down the stairs when he heard a voice speak.

          "That boy's blood is tarnished."

          Turais paused and saw Elladora peering down.

          "What have I said about portraits who fail to keep their thoughts on blood purity private?" replied Turais.

          "You misunderstand," said Belvina, the lady in the adjacent portrait. "Elladora supposes the boy is accursed."

          "Yet no unusual physiognomy indicating vulgarity or degradation in his constitution, how curious…" muttered Elladora.

          "Alex isn't cursed. And take care not to repeat this to anyone else."

          "As you wish," Elladora replied. "But your father deemed it fit to collect a vial of blood. Why would he do so otherwise?" 

          As Turais thought back to his father's strange behaviour, doubt began to creep into his mind.

          Troubled, he entered the kitchen as Sirius asked, "How's Alex?"

          "He's getting better, I think."

          "You think? — Ow! "

          Regulus stomped on Sirius's foot and said, "That's encouraging news."

          "Where's Father?" Turais asked Kreacher as his brothers started to kick each other under the table ferociously.

          "Master Orion is visiting the Townsends."

          The Townsends were not closely associated with the Blacks, nor were they a prominent Wizarding family. The only thing that immediately came to mind was the whirlwind romance the late Hector Fawley had in his youth with the potioneer Miriam Townsend. It was poised for a fairytale ending, but the groom-to-be failed to appear at his own wedding. Their relationship ended soon after, but to the surprise of many, they remained good friends. The man remained unattached until his death.

          Turais furrowed his brows. 

          With Orion out of the house, a plan started formulating in his mind. He turned to the unassuming house-elf and said, "Kreacher, would you mind cleaning out my room? I noticed an odd stench under the floorboards, and I'm worried it could be a bundimun —"

          Before he could finish the sentence, Kreacher had already summoned his pest sprayer and vacuum can. His twitching eyeballs threatened to pop out of their sockets as he vanished with a pop.

          "Sorry for that," Turais muttered as he extracted himself from his squabbling brothers and crept into the study. Circling the desk, he saw a handwritten note that contained brewing instructions for a type of Healing potion that he had never seen before. There was a footnote that said:

Do not consume with alihotsy. - M.T.

          Turais walked over to the cabinet and swung it out. There was a pensieve and numerous vials containing thin strands of memory inside. Multiple rows were dedicated to each of the brothers, two reserved for his Hogwarts days, and one was for Parádeisos. There were also several other miscellaneous sections, including one containing only six vials labelled with a date and a question mark. 

          Upon discovering that a security ward protected all the racks, Turais resorted to reading the labels.

          "December 26, 1973," Turais read from the rightmost vial, with the one labelled December 21, 1973, next to it. "What happened last Friday? We returned from Hogwarts, and there was the Gringotts visit…."

          The four other vials were all from the previous year. 

          "March 25, 1972… that was the day Howard Fawley visited," Turais whispered to himself. "November 18, 1972, was around the time the news of Howard Fawley's disappearance broke… and about a month after Nymphadora was born —"  

          Turais gasped. 

          "I met with Andy and Narcissa during Hogsmeade Weekend, which was on the 19th. And the day before was Regulus's first Quidditch match! Against Gryffindor. We had a fight, and Father wasn't there. But where was he —?"

          The cabinet doors suddenly slammed shut before his eyes. Turais whipped around and saw Orion standing at the doorway, simmering with rage.

          "What are you doing here?" Orion growled.

          Turais drew himself tall and demanded, "The vials. They're all related to Alex's illness, aren't they?"

          "They are my private affairs. I don't need to explain myself to you —"

          "The brewing instructions on your desk… are they from Miriam Townsend?"

          Orion's eyes widened in surprise.

          "How did you —"

          "The ingredients are not found in common Healing potions. What does it do?"

          "I spoke with her about Alex's condition, and she suggested a modified recipe that would aid his recovery. It appears to have worked wonderfully."

          "And the day of Regulus's first Quidditch match, you were at the French Ministry Records Room, weren't you? What does that have to do with Alex –" 

          "If conspiracy is what you seek, then it is what you shall find," Orion hissed as he stepped forward. "I was merely searching through my memories to find a cure for Alex's ailment. There is nothing more to this story."

          Orion was hiding something, and Turais could see it clearly on his father's face.

          With a final glare, he threw the door open and stormed out.

 

***

 

          Miraculously, Alex's symptoms had vanished by moonrise, just in time for the New Year's celebration and his sixteenth birthday. 

          Turais could not shake off the sense that something was amiss. The dates coincided too perfectly. However, all potential paths of investigation ran through Alex and accessing Fawley House. He hesitated at the thought of making his friend suffer needlessly due to a baseless fear that now seemed irrelevant.

          The escorting motorcade of cars on the first day of school quickly reminded them that Nott and the others remained at large, with efforts to recapture them falling short. 

          "Stay out of trouble," Orion said as he hugged Regulus and Sirius. Turais stood with his arms crossed, and Orion elected to give him a quick squeeze on the shoulder instead. "I'll see you all for Narcissa's wedding in a few weeks."

          On the train, Turais was cornered by Jonty, who had somehow gotten wind of the successful estate transfer and wanted confirmation.

          "Does Jonty know about my father?" Alex asked when Turais broke the news.

          "No," Turais said. "He knew about Gringotts, but I managed to convince him that nothing was amiss regarding your parentage."

          "Thank you," Alex whispered. After a long pause, he added, "I was thinking perhaps we should resume Occlumency training."

          "Are you sure?"

          "I'm not. But if I want this to remain a secret, then I must first be able to keep it."

          Turais nodded. 

          "We'll figure this out."

 

***

 

          Between perfect duties, Occlumency sessions, the O.W.L. study club, and Quidditch, January flew by in the blink of an eye. The last week of January saw the return of Hogsmeade Weekend, and Turais snuck out to meet with Narcissa at the Hog's Head once more.

          There was a nervous energy surrounding Narcissa as she sipped at her glass. She sent frequent glances at the window, and when Andromeda appeared through the door, she marched forward.

          Andromeda moved in for a hug, but Narcissa reached for a golden envelope that materialised over her shoulder and handed it to her sister.

          On the envelope were three embossed black ravens, the symbol of the Black family, suspended in mid-flight. Andromeda flipped over the envelope and found there was no seal. Instead, there was the bolded "M" of the Malfoy family crest between two crossed wands. 

          "What is this?" asked Andromeda as one of the ravens from the flip side flew into view and landed atop the "M."

          "Look at the raven," Narcissa instructed. The bird's single eye stared at Andromeda in scrutiny before it let out a loud croak.

          The envelope disappeared and was replaced by a letter.

Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Miss Narcissa Violetta Black request the pleasure of the magical company of Miss Andromeda Irma Black and Mr Edward "Ted" Tonks to celebrate their Marriage at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, on Sunday, February 17, 1974, at 11 a.m. followed by a Reception at Lestrange Manor, Ménilmontant.

          "Cissy…" Andromeda said as she stared at the letter in disbelief. "What is the meaning of this?"  

          "It's your wedding invitation. I would love for you to come… as my bridesmaid. That is, only if you would like to…." 

          "Of course I do! But Lucius allowed this?"

          Narcissa nodded. 

          "I made certain concessions." 

          "What about our parents? Do they know?" 

          "They will. On the day of the wedding."

          The excitement dimmed in Andromeda's eyes as she whispered, "I… I'm not sure if I should go then. I appreciate this gesture, Cissy. I truly do. But I don't want to make your life any more difficult than it already is —"

          "It is Lucius's and my wedding, and I very well have the right to invite my sister, disowned or not," replied Narcissa fiercely. 

          "Oh, Cissy…" Andromeda choked as tears began to stream down her face.

          "You can't cry now," Narcissa said with ever-reddening eyes. "You have to save it for my wedding day."

          The sisters shared a crushing embrace.

          "Oh no," Andromeda suddenly gasped in horror. "I don't have enough time to shop for a dress —"

          Narcissa chuckled wetly. 

          "I've already ordered a dress for you. And a suit for your husband. All you need to do is go for a final fitting."

          Andromeda stared at her sister for a long while before they shared another hug.

 

***

 

          The day before Narcissa and Lucius's wedding, most of the students in Slytherin left Hogwarts for the weekend, having obtained special permission from their Head of House to attend the event.

          After returning home, Turais was cornered by his father for a private conversation.

          "You have not written to me once since we last saw each other," said Orion.

          "I've been told that the first thing a Black learns is how to hold a grudge," replied Turais.

          Orion sighed.

          "Please let me explain. You were correct. I had doubts about Alex being affected by a family curse or blood malediction. That is why I tested his blood. I ran several tests for unusual ailments, and they all returned negative, so I deemed it unnecessary to report this non-issue. That is also why I went to the French Ministry. I was searching for evidence to prove or disprove my suspicions."

          "And?"

          "And I was wrong. There is no curse," Orion explained. "Son, I know you might think what I did was wrong —"

          "It is wrong," Turais gritted out. "And a complete disregard for Alex's privacy and boundaries."

          "— but everything that I ever do is to protect our family and you," Orion continued. "You may question my means, but never doubt my intentions."

          "What does Alex's illness have to do with protecting me?" Turais asked sharply.

          Orion wrung his hands in frustration. 

          "Must you seize on every syllable and find fault?"

          Turais stared hard at Orion before finally saying, "I hope you are telling the truth." 

          The following day, the entire household woke early in preparation for the wedding. 

          Turais wore a set of long, charcoal-grey dress robes with a golden lapel pin of the Black family crest. His pocket square, tie, and trousers were in a muted shade of sky blue, the colour theme of the wedding.

          The boys gathered around the sitting room, awaiting Orion, when Turais took everyone's pin and cast a tracking charm.

          For the past few weeks, Turais had been fretting about travelling to Lestrange Manor. Given the outward animosity of the hosts towards the Blacks and his brothers' bizarre predisposition for trouble, he had come up with this less-than-ideal plan.

          "You're serious about this," said Regulus reprovingly. "There will be security, Ministry officials, and Aurors abound there." 

          "It's just a precaution," replied Turais as he handed back the pins.

          "And how is it that I'm known as the rule breaker in the family when you're the one who keeps breaking the law?" Sirius huffed in annoyance.

          "Unlike you, I'm discreet about it."

          Sirius stuck out his tongue as Orion marched in.

          After a quick Portkey trip, they appeared in a glistening winter wonderland filled with evergreens, golden magnolia topiaries, floral urns, and dusted with fresh-fallen snow. There was a soft crunch inside a snowbank as a pair of pure-white rabbits emerged with their noses twitching in the air.

          Under the honey-yellow glow of the streetlamps, they followed the winding path through the gates toward the seating area. Many of their friends had already arrived and were mingling amongst the crowd. They walked up to the Stewards, who were talking with several Ministry officials, including Hamish McFarlan, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

          "So many important people," Jonty whispered excitedly as the adults conversed nearby. "I heard Crouch Sr is here somewhere, but I've yet to lay eyes on him."

          Turais frowned. 

          "Isn't he famously averse to such social events?" 

          "I reckon he's testing the waters before tossing his hat in the ring for Minister," replied Jonty.

          "Minister? But the election isn't until next year."  

          "The worst-kept secret in Whitehall is that Jenkins will resign before then. She simply does not have the power to govern anymore." Jonty gasped and motioned for Turais to look as Bartemius Crouch and Harold Minchum walked in together, deep in conversation. "Those two are the likeliest candidates to become the next Minister! I'd pay a mountain of gold to hear what they're saying."

          Catching sight of the boys, Harold waved and strolled over to exchange pleasantries with Turais. All the while, Jonty was a bundle of nervous energy from being in the presence of someone so influential. After several minutes of chatting, Harold excused himself. 

          "I will see you at the reception," the man said. "And it was nice meeting you, Jonty."

          Not a second after Harold left, Crouch Sr appeared.

          "Master Turais Black, I see that you are well," he said. "I hope my son has not been causing you any trouble."

          "No, he has not."  

          "Good."

          There was an awkward pause before Jonty started chatting about nogtail hunting, which the man apparently excelled in. 

          "Turais and I are headed for our first hunt at Glenfaelad this summer," Jonty said proudly. "Will we have the pleasure of sharing a hunt with you?"

          Crouch contemplated for a long while before finally saying, "If we happen to be there at the same time."

          "I'm sure my father will be able to arrange something," Jonty said with a grin before subtly encouraging Crouch to start a conversation with his father. Turning back to Turais, Jonty grimaced and muttered, "He's not a great conversationalist, is he?"

          "I didn't know we were going hunting." 

          "I overheard your grandfather mentioning it earlier," Jonty replied. "I don't fancy hunting. Imagine standing around in the woods for hours trying to look for nogtails…."

          Jonty shuddered.

          After parting with the Stewards, the Black family continued to make their way around the crowd when they were approached by a woman they hadn't seen in years.

          "Walburga," Orion greeted stiffly.

          Gone were the embroidered corsets and layered petticoats she once wore to vie for attention. Now, she only sported a plain woven dress with a modest piece of lace around her neckline. She had become a bit more rounded, and the creases on her face had also grown in prominence. 

          Walburga twisted her lips into a warm but nervous smile and said, "Orion. How have you been?"

          "I've been well. And you?"

          "I, as well."

          Walburga studied Turais's face with a soft, tender gaze and said, "Turais, son, look at you. A handsome, strapping young man —" 

          Turais turned away as she reached out to touch his cheek. Walburga smiled wistfully and retracted her hand. 

          "I hear that you are excelling in school. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you." 

          Turais nodded curtly.

          His mother walked up to Alex. Glancing at the pin with the Fawley crest, she said, "And you must be his friend from school, Alexander Fawley. Continue to keep an eye on Turais for me, won't you, dear?"

          "I will, ma'am."

          She moved on to Sirius, who took a step back and crossed his arms defiantly. Walburga's eyes hardened for a split moment before they crinkled once more at the youngest child.

          "Regulus," she said gently. "You've grown so much since I've last seen you."

          Regulus nodded silently.

          "I heard you made the House team as the youngest Seeker in a century. How wonderful."

          "You heard about that?" Regulus asked in surprise.

          Walburga's smile grew fonder. "Why yes, of course. I do pay attention to any news regarding my children."

          Regulus's cheeks pinked. "Thank you."

          Orion cleared his throat pointedly and said, "Have you seen Cygnus?"

          "Ah, yes," Walburga said. "Let me walk you over."

          She gave Regulus a quick pat on the shoulder before allowing herself to be guided away by Orion.

          Turais immediately picked up a bottle of red wine from the nearby table and uncorked it. Meanwhile, Sirius glowered at his younger brother.

          "What is wrong with you?!"

          " What? " Regulus returned.

          "You were acting all chummy, and what have you —"

          "She was being polite, and I simply reciprocated the gesture," said Regulus. "Unlike you and your infantile behaviour."

          "She doesn't deserve anything. It was all clearly an act, and I don't trust her as far as I can throw her." 

          "And you know all about throwing mothers."

          "I wish I did," mumbled Sirius.

          Turais was pouring the wine when a waitress walked past them. She stopped and frowned.

          "Sir, are you old enough to drink?"

          Turais mustered his most charming smile and said, "I'm sixteen, and my father is over there with my cousin, the bride ." 

          "Of course, Mr Black. Do excuse my interruption," she said before retreating hastily.

          When she was out of earshot, Sirius hissed, "Give me some."

          "You're fourteen," said Turais half-heartedly.

          "And you're fifteen," Sirius replied. He snatched the glass and took a sip. " Bleh — this is disgusting…."

          Turais took back the glass and drained it.

          "Are you alright?" Alex asked worriedly after Turais finished a second glass.

          "Absolutely brilliant," he muttered.

          Suddenly, a hush descended over the venue. As one, the crowd turned to look towards the gates. 

          Andromeda had walked in, dressed in a stunning, pastel blue gown flecked with white. The ruffled tiers of satin seemed to have a life of their own, undulating without the aid of her movements. She linked arms with her husband, Ted, who had a sharp set of robes in matching colours and a cravat adorned with sapphires.

          They made polite conversation with the other guests, looking both radiant and proud while pointedly ignoring Andromeda's estranged family.

          Spotting Turais, they walked over with a pair of beaming smiles.

          "You look enchanting today, Andy," Turais said. "You as well, Ted."

          "That's so kind of you to say, Turais," Andromeda smiled. "And it is so nice to see you again, Sirius. You too, Regulus."

          Ted squeezed his wife's hand gently and asked, "Aren't you going to find your sister?" 

          "I must warn you, your mother and Bellatrix are inside," reminded Turais.

          "I've dealt with them my entire life. I'll survive," Andromeda said wryly. 

          Turais and Ted watched as she walked through the crowd and entered the room with her head held high.

          "Being able to see her sister get married and doing so as her bridesmaid… it means the world to her," Ted said sincerely. "Thank you for doing this."

          Turais shook his head.

          "I only helped create the conditions. It was ultimately their choices that led to this result."

          There was a fluttering sound as a crow that was perched on a nearby tree flew off into the distance. 

          Ted cleared his throat and said, "Now, please tell me you have a couple of brooms and a Snitch. You're one of the few I can stand out of this lot." 

          Turais chuckled, "I'm afraid you're out of luck."

          "In that case, hurry up and pass the wine."

 

***

 

          It was an intimate and moving ceremony, and Andromeda was in tears from the moment Narcissa walked down the aisle. After vows were exchanged and a kiss was shared between the newlyweds, Narcissa immediately turned to hug Andromeda as Bellatrix watched on with a cold fury that was plain for all to see.

         The Tonkses left shortly afterwards, and the rest of the guests were transported to the wedding reception.

           In a flash of a Portkey, Orion and the four boys appeared outside the looming, black gates of Cimetière du Père-Lachaise. Turais felt his boots squish against the slippery, dew-covered grass as a damp gust of wind blew across the empty path, causing him to shiver involuntarily. At that moment, a murder of crows flew over the marbled necropolis with their caws daring them to enter the ancient grounds of the Lestranges.

          "What a lovely venue," Sirius grumbled.

          "This place looks more depressing than Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party," Turais agreed.

          "You've been to one as well?" asked Sirius, impressed.

          "Never mind that now," Orion said. Their invitation letter glowed, and the gate rails slowly rearranged themselves to form a doorway.

          Passing through the magical boundary, they were teleported into a narrow alley surrounded by towering mausoleums that nearly blocked out all the light from the setting sun. 

          The only path in front of them was a set of stairs that led to a pair of closed doors. There was a sonorous groan of metal against metal as the doors slowly opened to reveal a long, dark tunnel.

          "I can hear Bellatrix cackling at my discomfort," grumbled Sirius.

          Orion nudged his son warningly. 

          "Hush now. Your voice carries great distances within these halls."

          After a short walk, they entered a bright, oval-shaped antechamber several stories high and held up by vaulting arches. The air was filled with a sweet, warm scent and the soft, floating strains of classical music. They descended the stairs and were greeted by a magnificent magnolia with elegantly twisting branches lined with broad leaves and creamy, white blossoms. Behind the tree was a doorway leading to the Portkey lobby, where they were supposed to arrive.

          "Master Black! We were just about to worry about where you went." 

          Rabastan Lestrange stood on the balcony above them, empty not a moment ago, and peered down over his sharp, beak-like nose. 

          "Master Lestrange," Orion greeted coldly. "Our Portkey left us beyond the gates of the cemetery."

          "Please accept my deepest apologies," Rabastan said as he descended the staircase. "There must've been a mix-up." 

          "Then I find myself wondering who the intended recipient of the Portkey was," Turais replied.

          "Please excuse us, Master Turais Black. I will see that the house-elves involved are punished most severely."

          Orion rested a hand on Turais's shoulder placatingly as they started to walk into the ballroom. They made their way down the receiving line: Rodolphus, the younger brother of Rabastan, leered at Turais with his crooked, yellow teeth on full display as they shook hands; Cygnus and Pollux seemed loathed even to make eye contact; Lucius shook Turais's hand with a stiff smile; and finally, Narcissa hugged Turais, much to everyone's surprise.

          The banquet hall was lined with tastefully decorated tables. In the centre was a giant circular water fountain with marble hippocampi and mermaids leaping elegantly in and out of the water.

          "You knew." Turais whipped around and found Bellatrix staring at him with a malevolent sneer. "You knew about my sister and the blood traitor ."

          "I have no idea what you're talking about," Turais returned icily.

          "Oh, don't you now?" Bellatrix leaned forward and brushed her sharp, manicured nails over Turais’s chest. Glancing at his brothers, both unaware of the conversation, she whispered, "You will pay dearly for this treachery —"

          Turais gripped Bellatrix's hand and swung it away roughly.

          "If you lay a finger on them, it will be me that you deal with," Turais warned before rejoining his family.

          Despite the obvious hostility from some attendees, the banquet was quite enjoyable. That was the case until Turais and Alex were forced to accompany Arcturus and mingle with other dignitaries.

          During a rare lull, Turais glanced at their table and found that Sirius and Regulus had wandered off at some point. After a quick scan around the room, he spotted Regulus standing next to Walburga in an alcove. Sirius, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

          "I'll be right back," Turais whispered to Alex before melting into the crowd. Fortunately, Arcturus was too busy conversing with various politicians to notice.

          "Regulus," Turais said tersely as he approached the pair. "Grandfather is looking for you."

          Without acknowledging Walburga, he took his brother's hand and dragged him away. Once they were back at their table, Turais let go, and Regulus rubbed his wrist gingerly.

          "What is wrong with you?" Regulus asked angrily.

          "Where is Sirius?"

          "How am I supposed to know? Aren't you the one who put a tracking charm on our pins —"

          "Of course!" Turais exclaimed as Regulus let out a suffering sigh.

          According to the charm, Sirius wasn't inside the ballroom. In fact, he wasn't inside the Manor at all.

          "Where are you going?" asked Regulus as he watched Turais shrug on his cloak.

          "To find our idiot brother. He's in the cemetery for some reason."

          Turais traced his steps back out of the tunnel and climbed the nearest hill. Past the numerous mausoleums and gravestones beneath the low, crescent moon, a small light flickered weakly far in the distance. 

          There was a rustle, and Turais spun around to find Regulus hiking up to him with a fierce scowl on his face.

          "Don't ask," he said. "I'm coming with you." 

          Following Turais's pin, which glowed brighter with every step, they finally spotted a familiar silhouette up ahead calling out Regulus's name. 

          "Sirius! Why in Merlin's name are you out here?!" shouted Regulus.

          "Reggie?" Sirius turned around, a lamp swaying in his hand. "Turais! You found him!"

          "What do you mean I found him?" Turais asked. "Regulus was in the ballroom the entire time talking to… that woman –"

          "That woman is our mother," Regulus gritted out.

          Sirius frowned. "But Rodolphus said you came out here!" 

          "Why would I do that, dimwit?" asked Regulus.

          "How was I supposed to know?"

          "You have a brain. Use it!"

          "Before you two continue arguing, let's head back to the Manor," said Turais.

          As they were about to leave, the frightened yip of a creature suddenly sounded out from nearby.

          "I hear a puppy!" said Sirius. He clambered towards a nearby mausoleum and pressed his ear against the stone. "There must be a puppy trapped inside. We have to rescue it!"

          With a sigh, Turais crouched next to Sirius and placed his hands on the wall.

          "There's a… spirit banishing ward?" Turais muttered as the frightened whimpers of the puppy continued to echo from within.

          "Whatever it is, can you disable it?" asked Sirius.

          Turais dragged his wand across the surface and tapped on the four corners. The ward sprung apart, and a tiny, translucent dog with glowing eyes and a long mane leapt out of the stone surface.

          "What kind of dog are you?" Sirius cooed. He tried to pet it, but his hand passed through its wispy body.

          "A gytrash." Turais realised. 

          "What's a guy-trash ?" asked Regulus.

          "Canine spirits. Potentially dangerous and afraid of bright lights." 

          "Grimmie is just a pup," Sirius said as the gytrash sniffed his hand curiously. "See, it's so friendly!"

          "You named it already?" Regulus scoffed while shooing the excitable spirit away. "Unbelievable."

          As Turais stood up, the gytrash bumped into his calf and fell over on its bottom. It shook its head in confusion, whined at Turais, then jumped into the nearest patch of shadow, where it vanished without a trace. 

          Feeling a sinister gaze upon them, Turais looked around at the crooked trees and found nothing. A burst of heat suddenly erupted above Turais's chest. He pulled out the phoenix feather, which was glowing brilliantly.

          Unnerved, he adjusted the grip of his wand and said, "We best get going."

          "I don't understand why Rodolphus lied to me," said Sirius as they traversed the uneven landscape.

          "He was clearly trying to get you in trouble!" Regulus said. Then he pointed out an enormous crow that was following them with its beady eyes in an uncanny, almost human-like manner. There was a strange symbol etched into its torso. "Is it just me, or is something off about that bird —?" 

          A quiet ping sounded. The ground beneath their feet abruptly vanished, and they fell through a layer of earth into a deep well. 

          Sirius and Regulus screamed as Turais pulled out his wand and shouted, " Arresto Momentum!

          Their descent immediately slowed, but after a series of sudden lurches, they quickly returned to free fall.

          "Why are we still falling?!" shouted Sirius. 

          Seconds later, they landed in a large heap of sticks and dry leaves. Sirius's lamp shattered next to them, plunging them into obsidian darkness.

          The first thing Turais noticed was the dusty, foul scent. It had an underlying malaise that could only be attributed to the contents of the cemetery. There was also something else in the air – something damp and heavy with a thrum of inexplicable energy. It smothered Turais like a blanket, making him feel indescribably cut off from an integral part of himself.

          " Lumos. Lumos! " Sirius shouted somewhere to his right. "I don't think my wand is working properly. Turais, can you give us some light?"

          Turais was surprised that he could not manage the simple spell either. He reached out into the darkness and summoned the Elder Wand. Feeling the coarse grain of the wood in his hand, he channelled all his energy into the Lumos charm, and the most feeble glow appeared. No matter how hard he tried to strengthen the charm, it was to no avail. 

          "That's the best I can do."

          He turned to examine their surroundings and was immediately confronted by a horrifying sight. Human skulls and bones carved with untranslatable runic symbols were piled into towers and rows, which formed the sides of the narrow, winding tunnel.

          "Where are we?" Sirius whispered.

          "Some sort of catacomb," Turais replied.

          "I've heard about this," Regulus whispered shakily. "This is the Void — where magic ceases to operate." 

          "What do you mean?" asked Turais.

          "According to a book I read, deep beneath the city of Paris lies a labyrinth made of bones where magic is smothered by a mysterious force."

          "You're not being very funny," Sirius growled.

          "I'm not joking," Regulus snapped as a faint ticking sound started echoing around them. "We're currently experiencing it. There's even a religion based on this called Vacuism, and the local sect is called the Brotherhood of Theseus —"

          Regulus's words were drowned out by a roar of grinding stone that grew louder by the second.

          "Oh, please don't tell me we're about to end up as a Minotaur's snack," Sirius whined as Turais caught a glimpse of something rippling in the distance.

          "Run!"

          They sprinted off just as an incoming avalanche of bone and dirt collapsed onto their original positions. The ground beneath their feet started to dip and shift as they reached a junction of two paths.

          "Go left!" 

          They leapt sideways as the advancing pile of rubble crashed against the wall, stirring up a thick plume of dust. Then, the junction caved in entirely, blocking their return path.

          "Did I mention that the tunnels change every hour?" Regulus wheezed. 

          "Great. We're in a sentient death trap!" Sirius groaned.

          "This is all your fault —"

          "Okay, the both of you listen up," Turais interrupted. "These tunnels were built for a reason, which means someone must be able to access them. If there's an entrance, there must be an exit. All we need to do is find it." 

          "And how will we do that?" Regulus asked doubtfully.

          "We better start searching then," said Turais. "I'll lead. Regulus, you're second. Sirius, you take up the rear —"

          "Why am I last?" asked Sirius.

          "Brains before ugly," replied Regulus.

          "I think you've mixed up the two —"

          "Enough," Turais said in a firm voice. "Regulus, one hand on my shoulder at all times and your wand in the other. Sirius, same thing. Keep your eyes peeled and speak up if you see anything. Understood?"

          As his brothers nodded, Turais heard a disembodied voice whispering in his ear. He shook his head, and the voice disappeared, leaving him to wonder if he had imagined the sound.    

          Under the faint glow of his wand, they walked along the seemingly endless tunnel. At the narrower parts, they had to crawl on their elbows and knees with their faces mere inches from the remains of mediaeval Parisians. Eventually, a tiny dot of light appeared in the distance, and the bones gradually gave way to limestone. 

          Following it, they entered a large, cylindrical space that extended beyond the reach of his wandlight. In the centre of the room was a sole burning torch in front of a statue of a man sitting on a marble throne. His pupil-less eyes were bulging from their sockets, and his mouth was gaping open as if he was letting out a soundless, desperate wail.

          A sudden series of crisp taps reverberated through the room, and a small stone rolled into view. There was a flash of light atop the statue as a bear-sized gytrash materialised in front of them. Dozens more appeared, lighting up the room in an eerie blue glow, and it was then that Turais could see they were standing at the bottom of a large oval-shaped amphitheatre.

          Turais seized the torch and pushed his brothers behind him. 

          "Want to hear the good news?" he asked.

          "Are we not about to die?" squeaked Regulus.

          "No, but we found our way to the Lestrange crypts." 

          "Well, I suppose we don't need to worry about digging then," Sirius laughed nervously.

          "I shouldn't have chased after you two," Regulus bemoaned. "I could've been sampling hors d'oeuvre, sipping on butterbeer floats —"

          "There are butterbeer floats?" gasped Sirius. "I love those —" 

          "That's not the point!" cried Regulus. 

          The gytrashes stalked forward with a menacing growl. Turais brandished the torch warningly and shouted, "Stay back!" 

          The creatures immediately sat down and bowed their heads as if responding to a command. The ones closest to Turais avoided his gaze and dipped their heads further in deference. Turais tentatively relaxed his stance, and the gytrashes remained in their positions.

          "That… worked?" Sirius asked, bewildered.

          The voice crept into Turais's mind once more, louder this time. He ignored it and said, "Whatever it is, we better leave before they change their minds." 

          They climbed to the top of the chamber, but all the tunnels had collapsed, and there was no way out.

          "Now what?" Regulus groaned.

          A tiny dog spirit appeared through the floor below their feet.

          "Grimmie!" Sirius greeted. "Why are you here? Is this your home?"

          Turais looked at the gytrash when a thought occurred to him. He crouched down and asked, "Can you lead us back to the Manor ballroom?"

          The gytrash barked affirmatively and gestured at them to follow.

          "We're not following it, surely," Regulus hissed. "Its pack tried to attack us!"

          "We don't have much of a choice, do we?" replied Turais.

          Following Grimmie's lead, they returned to the labyrinth. Slowly, they made their ascent toward the surface. At certain points, they could even hear the faint echoes of conversations or footsteps through the metres of stone and soil above them.

          "Still no magic," Sirius muttered as he twisted his wand at various angles above his head.

          Meanwhile, Turais became increasingly distracted by the loud hisses that seemingly originated from within the walls themselves. Just as it reached a critical point, Regulus's voice broke through the haze.

          "Turais, what's wrong?" 

          It was then that Turais realised he was leaning against a pillar, panting heavily.  

          "I… I'm not sure…"

          Then, his eyes focused on a pulsating green light at the end of the tunnel to his right.

         "Wait," Sirius said. "That's the wrong way –"

          Turais walked down the tunnel and stopped in front of a stone archway ensnared by a thick veil of dead vines. 

          "Wait here," he said distractedly before pushing through. 

          On the other side of the veil was a small library with rows of square compartments carved into the stone walls, each containing a wooden box. All were beautifully carved and encrusted with jewels and precious metals, except for one tucked away in the corner of the room. 

          Unlike the others, this one was simple and undecorated. Its surface was marked with deep scratches and stained with splatters of black and red. The voice Turais had been hearing originated from within, and he leaned in closer to listen. Suddenly, the cover flipped open to reveal a book, which started to turn its pages on its own accord, and the whispers became an overwhelming chorus of chants.  

          "- Dec…eitful foes…, Archenemies... of old, –"

          "- For he who yearns… to s…ee their blood turn'd cold, –"

          "- He s…creams… of words… mos…t foul, with vengeful breath, –"

          "- A curse…, one bought with life and paid with death."

          The first few pages each depicted a black-and-white illustration of a gruesome death with a single word below it. Turais did not recognise any of them until he saw a name – Gaunt , with a picture of a deranged man with eyes staring in opposite directions, cackling madly.

          The page turned again, and it was a coloured image of a young woman in bridal white suddenly collapsing onto a bed. Her looks turned frail and sallow as she writhed in agony. Finally, Death descended by her bedside and carried her lifeless, bony figure away.

          The word below was inked in blood red with vicious crows hacking at it.

Grenegræs.

          The book reached its last page, which contained a horrific portrait of a pale man transforming painfully into a giant, emerald serpent. He alternated between the two forms until only the serpent persisted.

          Turais looked down the page, and a single damning word stared back mercilessly.

Fawleah.

          Before he could process what he saw, the book slammed shut and vanished. 

          There was a rustle behind him as Sirius's voice called out nervously, "Turais, are you still there —?" 

          "I'm fine!" Turais shouted shakily as he tried to quell the panic in his mind. "Stay outside!"

          "Uh… the ticking noise is back… And Grimmie looks anxious."

          Turais closed his eyes and committed every detail to his memory. As he exited the room, Sirius grabbed his hand. They sprinted towards where Grimmie and Regulus were waiting, and the tunnel behind them disappeared.

          "What were you doing, running off by yourself like that?" Regulus demanded as they continued on their way. "You could have died!"

          Turais shook his head in response, and Regulus let out an angry huff. They followed Grimmie for a few more minutes until it stopped in front of a staircase leading up to a pair of steel doors on the ceiling.

          "Is this it?" Regulus asked, and the gytrash nodded.

          "I'll miss you a lot, Grimmie," Sirius said. Grimmie wagged its tail happily and gave a final yip before vanishing in a swirl of mist.

          "Thank you, Grimmie," Regulus whispered into the shadows.

          When they reached the top of the staircase, Turais felt the return of his magic for the first time in hours. He motioned for his brothers to stand behind him and pointed his wand at the doors.

         " Bombarda! "

         The doors flew apart with a bang, and water cascaded down like a miniature waterfall until finally trickling to a stop. Drenched and covered with dirt, the three emerged into the open air and suddenly felt the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes upon them.

          They had blasted their way through the water fountain in the centre of the Lestrange Manor ballroom!

          Everyone was frozen in place, and Sirius asked with a nervous chuckle, "Uh, did we miss the cake cutting?"

          Orion broke out of his stupor and rushed forward. He pulled them into a suffocating hug and exclaimed, "Thank Hecate, Circe, and all the gods!"

          "We were desperately worried —"

          At the sound of Rodolphus's voice, Turais extracted himself from Orion's grip and confronted him angrily.

          "You attempted to murder my brother by directing him to the cemetery and placing a trap that would send him straight to a gytrash lair. He could have died!"

          "A ridiculous accusation," hissed Rodolphus.

          Sirius fumed. 

          "We were in the crypts surrounded by giant dog spirits ready to attack us. It was lucky that Turais managed to calm them down and ask one to lead us out."

          Rodolphus scoffed. "Do you all hear this? Gytrashes following a wizard's orders like dogs! That's the biggest load of drivel I've ever heard."

          "It's true! How else could we find our way around the crypt?!" Regulus shouted. "And you were spying on us with that freakishly large crow. It had a tattoo that was an inverted triangle with an 'R' —"

          "Slander! All of it!"

          Arcturus stepped forward and said, "I have powerful friends in both Ministries, and I will see to it that you are held accountable for the crimes you've committed against my grandsons."

          "I would like to see you try," hissed Rodolphus.

          Narcissa squeezed her way to the centre. She said placatingly, "The most important thing is that everyone is safe. Isn't that right, Lucius?"

          Lucius choked on the flute of champagne and replied hastily, "Of course, my love." 

          Turais sent a deadly glare at the Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix as the adults continued to wrangle bitterly.

          Sirius could have ended up in the catacombs on his own if Turais and Regulus had not found him in time. The image of his brother sitting alone in the darkness, frightened, as the tunnel collapsed around him —

          Turais felt his blood turn into ice.

          Alex was trying desperately to make his way through the crowd, and another wave of chaotic emotions crashed over Turais. His friend looked full of life, so unlike the horrid image depicted in the book. Alex couldn't possibly be cursed by —

           The Lestranges. They had to pay for everything they'd done —

          Turais felt a tap on his shoulder.

          "Turais." It was Harold Minchum. "I am so glad to see that you have returned unscathed. We were all so worried —"

          "Thank you for your concern," Turais said tonelessly.

          "I know you probably have a lot on your mind, but I couldn't help but wonder about what your brother just said." 

          The man shoved a napkin into Turais's hand. On it was a hastily scribbled symbol:

🜆

          Turais seized Harold by the lapel. 

          "How did you know —" 

          Harold motioned for him to remain silent and whispered, "This is the alchemical symbol for Aqua Regia, but more importantly, Rabastan Lestrange has it tattooed under his ribs. It was one of the characteristics we catalogued when he spent his last stint in Azkaban…."

          Turais felt Rodolphus's gaze on him from across the room. The man was smirking, knowing fully that the Blacks would never be able to pin the crime onto him. 

          Raw anger coursed through his veins in an instant.

          "Is he registered?" Turais hissed dangerously.

          "What do you have in mind —"

          "Answer me, Harold," Turais snarled. "Is he registered or not?"

          "No, his name is not on the list —"

          Turais ignored the rest of Harold's words as he marched towards the Lestrange brothers. Rodolphus whipped out his wand instinctively, but Turais quickly sent a nonverbal Expelliarmus at him. 

          Before Rabastan could react, Turais pressed the tip of his wand into his chest.

          "What is the meaning of this —?"

          " Bestia se revelet. "

          A ring of blue light enveloped Rabastan. 

          His mouth elongated while his limbs shrunk into his chest. The next moment, there was a crow where the man had been standing.

          Turais transfigured a fork into a net and caught the escaping crow. The bird flapped its wings frantically, and he petrified it before performing the Animagus Reversal Spell. There was an audible gasp throughout the ballroom as Rabastan reappeared with a frozen expression of utter panic.

         "Brother!" Rodolphus roared as he crouched beside the man.

         "Mr Crouch, please alert your Aurors," Turais said unsympathetically. "I believe we've found ourselves an unregistered Animagus."

Chapter 77: The Shadow Phoenix

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

THE SHADOW PHOENIX


 

          In one of the side rooms of the Lestrange Manor, Turais gave his account, omitting the parts about the curse book, to Crouch Sr and the French Head Auror Gustave Desortilege. All the while, Orion gripped his forearm tightly as if he would disappear into thin air at any moment.

          "You must believe me. Je sais, ça paraît dingue, mais… il faut me croire. Vraiment. (I know how this must sound… but it is the truth.)"

          Desortilege smiled kindly.

          "Turais, je te crois. Allez, essayez d’aller vous reposer un peu. (Turais, I believe you. Now, try and get some rest.)"

          The French Auror left to file his report, and the rest returned to the banquet hall.

          "What will happen to the Lestranges now?" Turais asked Crouch Sr.

          "Our office will be pressing charges against Rabastan for his crimes as an unregistered Animagus. All three Lestranges will be investigated for attempted assault and murder against minors."

          The banquet hall was largely empty now. The moment they entered, Harold and Arcturus strolled towards them with the editor-in-chief of The Daily Prophet, Barnabas Cuffe, following quickly behind.

          "Mr Crouch, I hope the interview proved fruitful," said Harold, to which the older man gave a curt nod.

           A faint, scratching sound filled the air as Cuffe's swan quill scribbled furiously on a levitating notebook.

          "My office will be expecting a full report of the incident by Monday," Arcturus said with a clipped tone. "I trust this will not be a problem, given the severity of the matter?"

          "Of course not, Lord Black," Crouch replied with a glare.

          "Additionally, I have already expressed to Mr Minchum my views on the legal usage of underaged magic tonight," Arcturus said. 

          "I wholeheartedly agree with Lord Black that this situation qualifies as a series of extenuating circumstances," Harold replied quickly. "I assured him that the Wizengamot will not be entertaining any calls to press charges against Master Turais Black. I'm sure you agree, Mr Crouch?" 

          Annoyance streaked across Crouch's face before he quickly covered it up. Then, he gritted out a reluctant "Yes, of course."

          "Master Turais Black, is there anything you wish to comment on?" Cuffe asked Turais.

          "As this is an ongoing investigation, Mr Black will not be able to comment on the matter," Crouch said immediately. However, Cuffe pointedly ignored the man and focused all his attention on Turais.

          "Actually, I do," Turais said. "Please let it be known that if anyone wishes to harm my family, friends, or loved ones, I will not hesitate to turn their lives into a living nightmare. And may this incident serve as a cautionary tale."

          Arcturus's brow ticked up before he turned to Cuffe and said, "We shall agree on an appropriate narrative for this story before it leaves the press."

          "Of course, Lord Black."

          Turais looked around the hall and noticed Narcissa and Lucius conversing with a pair of Aurors next to the destroyed fountain.

          "Where are Sirius and Regulus?" he asked.

          "With your grandmother. They are being interviewed as well," replied Arcturus. 

          Eyeing an opportunity, Turais faked a stifled yawn.

          "You must rest, Turais," Harold said quickly. "Mr Crouch, do you have a Portkey bound for the Black residence?"

          "Yes, though it intended for use by the entire family –"

          "My dearest colleague, we shall simply prepare more!" Harold said with an exasperated shake of his head.

          Turais asked Orion, "Father, would you accompany me? I'm sure Grandfather won't mind waiting a little longer." 

          "Of course."

          "Then I shall take my leave from our hosts."

          Before Orion could protest, Turais had already walked off whilst secretly charming a message on a piece of parchment.

Arrange for a private room at the Three Broomsticks. Upcoming Saturday at noon. Tell Cetus to come alone.

          As he walked towards the newlyweds, he heard Lucius snap, "We had nothing to do with their disappearance. Do you have the slightest idea how much preparation went into this? Why would we deliberately ruin what was supposed to be our most joyous occasion?" 

          Upon seeing Turais, Narcissa immediately abandoned her conversation and asked worriedly, "How are you?"

          "I'm well. Don't worry." Discreetly, he pressed the note into Narcissa's hand. "Thank you for hosting us, Narcissa. I wish you and your husband a wonderful marriage."

          "Thank you," Narcissa replied without betraying a hint of surprise as she pocketed it.

 

***

 

          After a chaotic swirl of colours, Orion and Turais appeared in the sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place. Immediately, Turais dragged Orion into the study.

          "What in Salazar's name —" 

          "There is something I need to show you."

          Noticing the tension in his son's voice, Orion asked worriedly, "What is it?" 

          Turais bit down on his lip and debated his decision for one final time. Then, he looked up and said, "I saw something in the crypt. Something that I neglected to mention to the Aurors. I will need access to the pensieve." 

          Orion unlocked the cabinet with a tap of his wand, and Turais rummaged through the vials and bottles. 

          Finding an emerald potion, Turais poured its content into the basin before adding a drop of molten gold liquid from a tiny, tear-shaped phial. Then he plucked a metallic leaf from the potted plant tucked away in the back corner of the cabinet and set it alight. Instantly, the room was filled with aromatic fumes that calmed his mind. He focused on the mental image of the curse book and gently extracted a strand of memory from his temple. 

          "Where did you learn to do this?" asked Orion as Turais stirred the memory around.

          In place of answering, Turais submerged his face in the silvery substance, and Orion quickly followed —

          Orion found himself in a tunnel in near-total darkness as a dim light approached him. His eldest son appeared, trailed by his brothers and a glowing, translucent puppy. 

          Everything was tinted green, as though filtered through a coloured lens.

          "Wait here," Turais said before pushing through the veil of deadened vines. The vines crumbled into fragments, scattering shadows as they crashed to the floor.

          Inside the alcove, the floor was covered by an untouched layer of fine dust. Every step Turais took left the outline of a footprint on the floor.

          "The vines, the dust," the present Turais noted as he appeared beside his father. "No one has been here in decades." 

          "The Lestranges mentioned they never set foot in the crypts due to the gytrash infestation and the inability to use magic," added Orion. 

          Turais walked up to the unassuming box tucked in one of the corners when an involuntary hiss escaped his lips. A tiny snake etched at the base of the box slithered to the back, and it opened with a gentle click.

          "What did you say?" asked Orion.

          "'Show me.' I didn't even realise I spoke Parseltongue at the time."

          A leather-bound book materialised from thin air. The pages began to turn, displaying gruesome black-and-white illustrations and extinct family names.

          "What is this?" asked Orion, eyes widened in horror.

          "I believe it's the record of all the blood curses ever cast by the Lestrange family through the years."

          Orion stared at Turais incredulously.

          The page on the Greengrasses appeared, followed by the Fawleys.

          "Impossible," Orion muttered as he rewound the memory and took a closer look. Upon the second viewing, Turais detected a faint echo in the background that he strained to hear.

          "There's something else," said Turais. Everything faded into a hazy green as he focused on bringing the ambient hissing noise onto the foreground. He translated:

          "The heir,

          No less… than two spawns… in his… care.

          The eldes…t shall in time decay

          To s…caled green under marbled grey,

          The thread of pois…on s…lyly thrums

          In veins… of young, des...pairing s...ons....

          Until the s…pare becomes…"

          They resurfaced from the memory. Shocked, Turais turned to Orion only to find the man gripping the rim of the pensieve tightly, his grim expression taut with tension. 

          "What is it?"

          "There is something else you ought to know," Orion whispered. He reached for the vial labelled "November 18, 1972" and poured out the memory. "After you."

           Turais took a deep breath before submerging his face into the luminescent swirl once more –

          Orion entered a circular room that was devoid of any objects except for a wooden podium. He tapped it with his wand, and suddenly, dozens of shelves sprung up from the floor and shuffled around in a synchronised dance. 

          A box of records deposited itself on the stand before the stacks sank back into the floor. Orion sent it to the highest point of the domed glass ceiling, where it disappeared in a flash of blue. 

           A pair of tiny leaves sprouted in its place. Over the next few seconds, the seedling grew into a magnificent willow tree with branches extending downwards to form a cascading veil. 

          However, lesions started appearing on its newest branches and deforming the tree until one side withered away. It slowly whittled down until only a single, delicate branch remained. It continued to zigzag towards the ground until it stopped growing as well.

         Orion gently prodded at a blade that hung precariously from the tip of the forked branch. A name was written in golden ink.

          Alexander Fawley (1958 - )

         Turning over the brown leaf adjacent to it, it read:

          Ashleigh Fawley (1958 - 1967)

         Tracing the branch upwards led to the name Henry Fawley (1925 - 1958). Beside it was a diseased, shrivelled-up leaf that belonged to Howard Fawley, then Hansel Fawley —

           Turais stumbled backwards as his eyes flitted between Orion and the hazy images in the pensieve. Confusion quickly turned into horrified comprehension before finally transforming into anger. He jabbed a finger at Orion and hissed, "You knew all this time, and you never said a thing!" 

          "I suspected," Orion defended. "And what good would it do to tell you? You cannot break a blood curse. Nobody can."

          "Is that why you were adamant about never adopting Alex? Surely you must know that blood curses cannot be transferred in this manner!"

          "Magic is fickle. I will never endanger your lives, no matter how small the risks are."

          Turais waved the argument away and started pacing around the room anxiously.

          "Alex must be told —"

          "No!" Orion said, suddenly fearful. "He is still young. It will bring him nothing but pain. Besides, his twin is the one who would've bore the full brunt of the curse, not him."

          "Are you suggesting we hide this from him?" Turais said with incredulity. "Would you hide the Greengrass curse from Uncle Gareth as well?"

          "That is a different matter altogether."

          "No, it's not," Turais said firmly. He continued, this time gentler, "I understand that you are trying to protect Alex from the harsh reality of the truth. But this is his life. He has a right to know. Please don't deprive him of this. Not when life has taken so much away from him already."

          Orion closed his eyes and whispered, "We will likely never find a viable countercurse."

          "Then we shall face whatever obstacles are ahead together," replied Turais. "I'll write to Professor Mather. He's an expert on curses. He must have some ideas."

          "I'll Floo-call him directly," Orion offered. "However, blood curses and their rituals are closely guarded secrets. They are also intended to be irreversible. I doubt he, nor anyone, will have much to offer in ways of solutions."

          "We must try," Turais said simply.

 

***

 

          That night, Turais lay in his bed and stared at the dark ceiling, unable to fall asleep. 

          He called out for Death and registered his presence a few moments later.

          "Did you lead me to the book?" Turais asked.

          'The past informs the future, young Master. Your decisions led you down this divergent path, and your powers revealed what would otherwise have remained hidden.'

          "Do I have the power to break these curses?" 

          'Yes.'

          "A viable solution that would destroy the curse whilst leaving Alex unharmed?" Turais pressed on.

          'Yes.'

          "Show me." 

          'You know the rules, young Master.'

          "Then what purpose does this discovery serve if I am unable to do anything about it?" Turais asked in frustration.

          Death remained resolutely silent. However, Turais gained a renewed sense of resolve as he now knew for certain that a cure was waiting to be found. 

          Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Sirius peeked into the room.

          "Turais, are you awake?" 

          Turais sat up and lit the lamp as Death faded away.

          "Yes." 

          Sirius stopped in front of Turais's wall of photographs. He pointed at one where Turais was pretending to strangle his brother and said, "I remember that was the day you received your Hogwarts letter." 

          "You were a menace." Turais smiled, recalling the memory at Shuttermeyer's studio. 

          "Still am."

          Sirius flashed Turais a grin, but it looked rather strained. Then he walked over to the desk and picked up a bottle of cologne. Spraying some on his wrist, he took a sniff and nodded approvingly.

          "Do you like it? I can order another bottle for you."

          "Don't reckon I'll be using it much." 

          "You need it," Turais replied as Sirius made a face. Patting the space beside him, he asked, "But what is the matter? I doubt you're only here to investigate my room."

          Sirius sat down and muttered, "Nothing… Just wanted to chat, I suppose."

          "Well, I'm all ears."

          "I… I know it's stupid… but every time I close my eyes, I picture myself back in the cemetery, alone, with the skin-crawling sensation of someone lurking in the shadows. And they're just watching me and waiting to attack. It's like a numbing sense of dread and helplessness in my stomach…." Sirius's shoulders slumped as he muttered, "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

          Turais put his arms around Sirius and gave him the biggest hug he could offer.

          "You are, Siri. And it's not stupid," Turais replied. 

          "I always thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave," Sirius mumbled into his chest. "But right now, I don't feel much like one."

          "Remember that what happened at Lestrange Manor was not normal. It's alright to feel scared, Gryffindor or not. I was scared too."

          "You were?"

          "Of course I was! I was just so focused on getting us out that it didn't show."

          "That's because you always know what to do…."

          Suddenly, an idea came to Turais's mind. It was not a novel one, but the circumstances forced him to push it ahead of schedule.

          "Do you reckon it would help if you learnt how to defend yourself?"

          Sirius perked up.

          "Like, extra defence lessons? I think so."

          "I'll arrange something," Turais promised. They settled into a comfortable silence, but soon, he noticed that Sirius had no intention of leaving. "Do you want to stay with me tonight?" 

          "Can I?"

          "Of course," Turais said. Then, there was a soft knock on the door, and they saw Regulus standing by the doorway. "Reggie, do you want to join us?" 

          Regulus nodded. 

          "Come on, then. I don't think we've had a proper sleepover for a long time."

          Unlike their younger selves, they now barely fit onto his bed, Turais noted with a twinge of nostalgia. Shuffling into a comfortable position, Turais gave Regulus a nudge. "What's bothering you?" 

          Regulus bit down on his lip before asking, "You don't think the Lestranges were actually trying to kill Sirius, do you?"

          "If not to kill, they intended to cause serious harm," said Turais. "Both are unforgivable."

          "But why would they do that?" Sirius asked. "I never did anything to them!"

          "I believe they were trying to hurt me by hurting you," said Turais.

          Regulus's eyes went wide. 

          "Surely they aren't so cruel…." 

          "They are," Sirius said darkly. "No wonder they're close with our dear mother. Like attracts like. I wouldn't put it past her to be involved. She always hated me." 

          "Don't say that —"

          Sirius interrupted Regulus with a rude noise. 

          "She tortured Turais, in case you forgot!"

          Subconsciously, Turais tugged at his undershirt and found the faded scar on his chest where the curse made contact.

          "Perhaps she's changed?" Regulus said, sounding incredibly small.

          "Well, she can change into her prison uniform and swing by Azkaban to pay for what she did to Turais. How's that for change?"

          Regulus hung his head. Then, Turais asked softly, "Do you miss her? You can be honest."

          "I… I guess so —"

          "What?!" Sirius hissed.

          "Let him speak," Turais admonished. Sirius crossed his arms and huffed but otherwise remained silent. 

          Regulus swallowed heavily before starting, "I know I shouldn't, but sometimes I find myself wondering where she is… how she is faring… whether she still cares about us…." Feeling Sirius's critical gaze boring down on him, Regulus hastened to add, "Never mind. It's a silly thing for me to say."

          "No, it's natural to be curious about these things," Turais replied. Regulus looked up in surprise. "Just because Sirius and I don't feel for her the same way you do doesn't mean what you feel is unjustified. However, five years ago, she was a violent person capable of torturing her child. It is rare for a person's character to change so drastically in such a short period of time. I worry there is more to her than what meets the eye."

          Regulus gave a jerky nod before muttering, "It doesn't matter since we won't see her again soon."

          "Thank Merlin for small mercies," said Sirius between yawns.

          "It's getting late. Let's all try and get some sleep." Turais reached up to dim the lamp.

          "Can you leave it on, please?" Sirius mumbled drowsily. 

          Not a minute later, the room was filled with Sirius's snores. As Turais slowly drifted off, Regulus tucked himself under his chin, his hair tickling his nostrils. 

          "I'm sorry for talking to her. I didn't mean to disregard what happened to you," Regulus whispered.

          "It's alright. I'm sorry for dragging you away as well. I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

          "I know," said Regulus. After a brief pause, he added, "Love you."

          "Love you too," Turais said, pressing a kiss on Regulus's head.

 

***

 

          The following day, Turais brought Alex to the study and broke the news. 

          "So… my entire family is cursed," Alex muttered. "And I currently carry the curse in my blood." 

          "I'm sorry."

          Alex nodded and gave Turais a brave smile.

          "Thank you for telling me, Turais. I… I feel… fine, surprisingly…."

          "Alex… You don't have to pretend…"  

          "No, I'm fine." Alex took in a long, shuddering breath. "Oddly, I feel relieved. Because for the first time, my life finally makes sense."

          Turais caught a glimpse of those tired, despondent eyes and was instantly transported back to when he saw the adult Alex at the Hog's Head.

          "No, it doesn't make sense, Alex," Turais said fiercely. "And it doesn't have to remain this way. Professor Mather will be coming for a visit later. We'll find a way to break the curse, I promise you." 

          When the Ancient Runes professor finally arrived, Turais, Alex, and Orion joined him in the study, where they pored over the transcript of the Fawley curse and the Fawley family tree.

          "Where did you come upon this text?" Mather asked.

          "The Lestrange Manor crypts," Orion replied. "There was an incident during the Malfoy wedding reception, and my son accidentally stumbled across it." 

          "Was it transcribed from Parseltongue?" Mather asked Turais, who nodded. "And was it written on vellum or parchment?" 

          "Vellum," Orion answered in Turais's stead. Mather proceeded to ask questions about every detail regarding the manuscript, from the type of gilding used to the shades of paints of the illustrations.

          "The Fawley curse is written in a form known as a funeral wreath, also called an ouroboric sonnet, first used in the late 18th century. This coincides with the first victims of the curse observed on the family tree."

          "I didn't find any information regarding the rituals or materials used for the blood curse in the book," said Turais.

          "The book you saw was merely a record," Mather replied. "In line with the practice of the time, the instructions specific to this ritual would have been contained in a separate book and destroyed upon the ritual's completion."

          "But why would they destroy the instructions?" 

          "Knowing the ritual instructions would have made it far easier to find a countercurse. Furthermore, all instructions can only be used once, as no caster has managed to perform more than one ritual in their lifetime." 

          "Why is that?" 

          "Because the ritual draws power from the life force of the caster. It is a perversion of the natural order, and the caster suffers from immense magical backlash. Individuals who have acquired such knowledge invariably die soon after utilising it." 

          "Bought with life and paid with death," Turais recalled.

          "Precisely. The costly nature practically ensures that anyone who attempts it seeks the complete destruction of an enemy's bloodline. The onset of the curse is quick to ensure the caster is able to witness their enemy's downfall before succumbing to the tolls of the ritual. However, this curse is nothing like its predecessors. What surprises me most is this." Mather pointed at the first two lines of the text and continued, "Here, it explicitly stipulates the ensured propagation of the bloodline. This goes against everything we have come to understand about blood curses."

          "But what about potential countercurses?" 

          "There have been proposed mechanisms. Most are theoretical, and none have enjoyed much success," Mather said.

          "What do you suggest we do? Where do we start our search?" 

          "I would suggest you do nothing." 

          Alex looked stunned by the admission as Turais growled, "What?!

          "If the text is to be interpreted correctly, Mr Fawley does not bear the brunt of the curse. And as long as the curse cannot propagate itself, the cycle will be broken —" 

          "Then his bloodline will die with him, and the Lestranges still get their way in the end!" 

          "To undo magic of such magnitude always involves an invasive and potentially lethal procedure. The countercurse must never be worse than the curse itself, Mr Black," Mather replied sternly. "Take care to remember that."

          Casting a worried glance at his silent friend, Turais pleaded, "I know a solution is out there somewhere, sir. We simply need to find it, and I need your help." 

          "I will continue my research, but I cannot promise success."

          "Thank you," Turais said earnestly. "I will conduct my own research as well."

          A tense silence befell them. Then, Orion said, "Professor, Lord Greengrass has been notified of our findings, and he seeks an audience with you."

          "Very well. I shall meet with him."

          As Kreacher led Mather to the Floo, Alex muttered, "I will head up to my room…."

          "I'll come with you," Turais replied, but Orion stopped him.

          "Turais, may I have a word?" Once Alex left, Orion closed the door and turned to face his son. "I won't pretend I have any control over what you do, but I must warn you again that your search will likely be a futile endeavour. And there might come a time when you realise you have exhausted all your options. Try not to take the failure personally."

          "I understand," Turais said with a tingling nose. "It's just that… Alex deserves so much more than this… this cursed life." 

          Turais choked out the last few words as a sense of despair that he had desperately kept at bay suddenly overcame him. The back of his eyes started prickling, and Orion pulled his son into a hug.

          "I know, son. I know."

          "I'm sorry for lashing out at you yesterday. You must've had an immensely difficult time as well. And I do understand you were only trying to protect us, even if I disagree with your approach."

          Orion gave Turais a tight squeeze, and the boy returned it.

          "And one final thing. Your search might lead you to very dark places, but promise me never to seek answers from the Dark Arts. It offers no solution and will only lead to more pain and suffering."

          "I promise," Turais sniffed. Wiping his misty eyes, he checked his appearance in the cabinet mirror to ensure a brave smile was plastered on his face. Turning around, he said, "We need to stay strong for him." 

          Orion walked up and smoothed out the wrinkled collar of Turais's robes.

          "Perfect." 

          "Thank you, Father." 

          Turais found Alex at his usual spot in the alcove.

          "Do you believe there is even a countercurse?" Alex asked quietly.

          "I do."

          "How can you be certain? And even if one exists, how do you know if we'll ever find it?"

          "No one believed a cure for werewolves was possible until Damocles discovered the Wolfsbane Potion," Turais said as he saw a tiny flame of hope flicker back to life in Alex's eyes. "All I know is that the moment we give up is when we have truly lost. I won't give up, and I hope you won't either."

 

***

 

          The train ride back to Hogwarts was blessedly quiet. Except for a few questions about what transpired in the crypts, which Turais declined to answer, everyone onboard had the sense not to dog him with questions. It was likely aided by the fact that they were at the reception and witnessed the events unfold themselves.

          That night, Turais woke up to an incessant shaking on his shoulder. Creaking his eyes open to the pitch-darkness, he muttered groggily, "Go away —" 

          A hand covered his mouth, and Turais's eyes flew open. Then, he saw Sirius's floating head peering over him with a hopeful expression.

          "Hey, Turais," Sirius whispered.

          "Siri? I think you took a wrong turn. This is not the Gryffindor common room." 

          "I know… I couldn't fall asleep again. I… I was wondering whether I could stay with you tonight as well..." 

          "Of course," Turais muttered before casting an Imperturbable Charm and a Light-Shade Charm around his bed. "Do you want the lamp on?" 

          Sirius nodded as he snuggled into the nook of Turais's neck.

          "Night."  

          Turais lay awake the entire night, feeling Sirius's every toss and turn as his arm slowly numbed. Before daybreak, he woke his brother up and smuggled him out of the common room. He managed two hours of undisturbed sleep before forcefully dragging his body out of bed for class.

          "Morning," Turais yawned as he plopped down on his seat at the Slytherin table. He reached for the toast and winced at the dull pain in the shoulder which Sirius slept on. 

          "Didn't get much rest last night?" Jonty asked, waggling his eyebrows as the other boys snickered.

          "Jonty," said Turais warningly. "Banish that thought —"

          "I heard you sneaking someone out of the room. Who was it?" Rivers probed. "Alex, you must know. Tell us." 

          Alex was nonplussed by the sudden attention.

          "I… I…."

          "Merlin, please give me strength," Turais muttered as he dragged Alex out of the Great Hall. "Let's eat in the kitchen."

          "Someone used an Imperturbable," Jonty sang gleefully. 

          The rumour spread through Hogwarts at record speed. After class, Sirius caught up with Turais and said, "It might be better for me to stay in my own bed." 

          "I don't care about the rumours," Turais said, ignoring the whispers and stares as they travelled down the corridor.

          "I know you don't, but I think I can handle being alone."

          "Only if you're sure," Turais said, to which Sirius nodded.

          They turned the corner and crossed paths with a group of Hufflepuffs, including Hilary Hawthorne. The moment she saw Turais, she burst into tears. Her friends quickly ushered her in the opposite direction whilst staring daggers at Turais.

          "It looks like you've broken her heart."

          "I might as well have," Turais sighed tiredly.

          "You're certain you don't need me to clarify things?" asked Sirius worriedly.

          "They won't believe you even if you do, so don't bother."

          Sirius frowned.

          "If you say so…."

 

***

 

          On Wednesday evening, Turais brought Alex and his brothers to the Room of Requirement, which was organised in a layout similar to when he held the secret meetings for Dumbledore's Army. The walls were lined with bookcases and various anti-Dark Arts instruments. In the centre of the room stood several mechanical dummies for target practice.

          "How do you discover all these places?" Sirius gasped in awe. "You truly put me and James to shame."

          "And here I thought you knew no shame," quipped Regulus.

          "Listen up," Turais said with a clap of his hands. "In light of recent events, we would all benefit from having a few crucial defensive spells in our arsenal."

          "You mean like our private little duelling club?" Sirius asked as he waved his wand around excitedly and mimicked various stances. 

          "I'm not teaching you how to duel. Only how to defend yourselves." Tapping his wand on the chalkboard, he said, "This is the standard protocol outlined in the Auror manual for how civilians should act in the face of a potential threat. If possible, never engage with the threat and leave the site. If you are forced to defend yourself, first cast the Shield Charm, Protego, as it can protect you from most spells and curses."

          "Then we disarm them with Expelliarmus," added Sirius.

          "Precisely," replied Turais. "However, just because an enemy is disarmed doesn't mean they are no longer a threat. Stupefy, the Stunning Spell, and Petrificus Totalus, the Full-Body Bind Curse, will strip the enemy of all mobility and ensure your safety as you seek help."

          Regulus raised his hand.

          "But why don't we cast the Stunning Spell or Full-Body Bind Curse directly? The Disarming Spell seems redundant."

          "Because the Disarming Spell requires less concentration and power," Turais replied. "Furthermore, the intrinsic properties of the Disarming Spell make it harder to parry, which means the enemy is forced to either block or dodge. That will buy you additional time to escape or prepare for the other spells."

          "Lastly, Expugnatio, which is the Auror distress signal charm," Turais said as everyone nodded.

          "There's one more spell on the list," Sirius pointed out. 

          "Expecto Patronum, or the Patronus Charm, is not part of the usual protocol," Turais answered. "It is immensely difficult to cast and more difficult to conjure up a corporeal form. However, should you master it, you can do something that is most useful…."

          Thinking back to a few nights ago, cuddled together with his brothers, Turais shouted, "Expecto Patronum.

          A white stag erupted from his wand and flooded the room with light.

          "Prongs!" Sirius laughed. 

          Turais turned around in surprise. "You remember."

          "Of course, I remember you," Sirius cooed as the stag nuzzled his hair playfully. "Do you remember me?"

          Turais muttered into his wand discreetly. The stag opened its mouth, and Turais's voice said, "Of course." 

          Sirius yelped and fell on the floor as Regulus gasped out in shock. 

          "The Patronus Charm is an efficient messenger as it is not hindered by physical barriers," Turais continued to explain. "Given that each individual has a unique patronus, there is no risk of impersonation or having false messages passed on."

          "But… but how did you do it, Turais?" demanded Regulus after the stag faded away.

          Turais frowned. "What do you mean?"

          "How did you make it talk? It's never been done!"

          "Let up, Reggie," Sirius said, unbothered. "I, for one, am more interested in learning how to summon a talking Patronus. I can't wait to see my mates react to it!" 

          "Not until you've mastered the other spells," said Turais. "Today, we will be starting with the most important spell, Protego. Everyone, wands out!"

          After several attempts, Alex was already able to cast the spell consistently. However, it was Regulus's performance that surprised him the most.

          "Protego!" Regulus shouted as a shimmering blue shield appeared in front of him. He stared in disbelief until it dissipated.

          "That is incredible!" Sirius cried delightfully.

          "Brilliant work, Reggie!" Turais said. "You've managed a fifth-year spell on your first day!"

          "I suppose…." Regulus muttered, not sounding particularly pleased. However, Turais did not have time to dwell on it as he checked his watch.

          "I have a meeting in ten minutes! Alex, do you mind helping me clean up? I'll see you all later," he shouted before darting out the door. 

          He ran to the Ravenclaw tower and knocked on Professor Mather's office door.

          The moment the man appeared, Turais handed him a note and a quill.

          "Can you sign this permission slip for me, sir? I have written down a list of books I wish to borrow from the Restricted Section."

          Mather glanced at the list and said, "You won't find anything useful beyond the basics."

          "I have to start my search somewhere, and I will need the basic knowledge before moving on to more advanced materials."

          "Mr Fawley is very fortunate to have you as a friend," Mather said, signing the note.

          Not trusting himself to speak, Turais gave a curt nod and left for the library. After successfully borrowing the books from the suspicious Madam Pince, he headed back to the Slytherin common room and crossed paths with Jonty and several of their classmates.

          "Hey, Turais, do you want to come to the library with us?" asked Stefanie.

          "Perhaps next time," said Turais, gesturing at the levitating stack of books beside him. "I just came back from there and wanted to do a bit of reading."

          Jonty's jaw slacked.

          "Please don't tell me these are required readings that I've somehow missed?"

          "Don't worry. It's not O.W.L.s-related."

          "Have you conveniently forgotten that our O.W.L.s are in less than three months?" Flint said incredulously. 

          "I haven't." Turais cleared his throat and said, "Good luck with your revisions. I'll head back to the dormitory first." 

          As he left, he could feel his peers' gazes boring on the back of his head.

 

***

 

         On Saturday at noon, Turais donned his Cloak and sneaked into The Three Broomsticks. The pub was quiet, with only a few customers chatting with Madam Rosmerta at the bar.

          "Hello?" Rosmerta said upon hearing the doorbell. Once she saw the door had swung open and shut seemingly on its own, she yelled, "If you're looking for trouble, the Shrieking Shack is down the other end of High Street!"

          "You know how windy it gets in February, Rosmerta," one of the customers chuckled.

          "And guess what it blew into town? Unsavoury characters, that's what," Rosmerta grumbled. "Not a good soul in them. Not one!"

          Turais walked into the corridor of private rooms; all were vacant except for one. Narcissa and Andromeda rushed forward when he entered.

          "What took you so long —" Andromeda greeted when she suddenly found a wand pointed at her chest. 

          "The first time you spoke with me privately in Hogwarts, what did you warn me about?" Turais asked.

          "What are you doing?"

          "Answer the question."

          "Uh… it was four years ago. You discovered my affair with Ted, and… I wanted to thank you for not ratting us out. Then… I warned you about Malfoy and Nott for your blatant disregard for their authority!"      

          Satisfied, Turais turned to face Narcissa, "At your engagement party, you asked me to deliver some items to your sister. Where did you hide them?"  

          "In a magically-extended purse, hidden under table seventeen."

          Turais put his wand away and apologised, "Sorry, I had to confirm your identities."

          "Why did you change the time and location?" Narcissa asked. 

          "Bellatrix confronted me at the start of the banquet. She knows about our secret rendezvous." Turais replied.

          Narcissa gasped in shock. "Bella knows? How is that possible?" 

          "That question is no longer relevant," said Turais. "We mustn't meet again until we can find another secure location. Pardon me, Narcissa, but I do not trust Bellatrix in the slightest."

          "I… I agree with you," Narcissa admitted quietly, much to the others' surprise. "I thought I knew my sister, but after these past few months, I wonder if I ever knew her at all."     

          Andromeda reached out to hug Narcissa as Turais pulled out two fake Galleons.

          "Andy, I'm sure you recognise these —"

          He felt a flash of heat over his heart.

          A warning.

          Turais immediately pointed his wand at the fireplace, igniting it. 

          "You two need to leave through the Floo now!"

          "What? Why?"

          Turais pulled out the brilliantly-glowing phoenix feather and explained, "The last time this feather glowed was moments before my brothers and I fell into the Lestrange crypt. Something dangerous is about to happen, and you must leave."

          "Turais." Narcissa gripped his arm tightly. "I would never try to cause you harm —"

          "I believe you," Turais said. "Now, go."

          "But what about you?"

          "Andy will show you how to use the coin. I'll be in touch once I return to Hogwarts —" 

          Narcissa suddenly pulled Turais into a quick hug. Releasing him, she said, "Stay safe."

          "I will," Turais replied with a smile. 

          The sisters left in a blaze of green flame. Moments later, the front door opened with a loud bang. 

          Turais heard Madam Rosmerta shout. "Sir, how dare —"

          Turais swung his Cloak over his head and cast a nonverbal Disillusionment Charm over himself for good measure before creeping out of the room. Rosmerta was visibly shaking as she was held at wandpoint by a hooded man clad in green robes. Behind him stood two other men that Turais didn't recognise. 

          "Where is Black?" the leader barked.

          "W… Who…?"

          Turais immediately shot a silent Expelliarmus at the leader, causing his wand to sail through the air and land behind the bar counter. While the men whirled around in panic, Turais cast a Mobilicorpus on Madam Rosmerta, who shrieked as she was sent flying into the back room where the other customers were hiding. Then he erected a powerful shield charm over the doorway.

          The leader locked onto Turais's position. He wrested the wand away from his companion and shot a string of curses in his direction.

          Turais darted out of the way as the windows behind him exploded. 

          The man jeered with a prominent lisp, "You think you can run away from me?"

          Turais Disapparated and reappeared next to the trio. Silently, he cast a Full Body-Bind curse on one of the men, whose limbs instantly snapped together. Turais plucked the wand from the petrified man's taut grip as he fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

          The leader whipped around, seething with rage. Up close, Turais could see the gnarled web of dark, mottled scars that crisscrossed the man's face and over the socket where his left eye once was. Something about him felt familiar —

          Turais could barely suppress a surprised gasp. 

          It was Brutus Nott.

          Turais snapped out of his daze as Nott shot another curse in his direction. Turais dodged and responded with a silent Stunner. However, Nott seized his wandless companion by the scruff of his neck and threw him into the spell's path. The man made a tiny, surprised gasp before collapsing onto the floor at Nott's feet, unmoving.

          At the same time, Nott jabbed his wand at the liquor cabinet and hurled all the bottles toward Turais. 

          "Bombarda!

          Turais registered the moment the glass shattered and a flicker of fire ignited. He watched as if everything was in slow motion. The tiny flames leapt from one droplet of alcohol to the next, multiplying until they surrounded him in a burning inferno. 

          Rather than avoid the blaze, Turais instinctively welcomed it like an extension of his body. His invisible form was quickly engulfed by curling flames that writhed and twisted like dancers in smoky, black dresses. When he moved his arms, the fire twirled and rose like a pair of fiery wings.

          It was a fearsome sight to behold, yet Turais found comfort in it.

          He sent forth a ferocious column of fire at Nott.

          "Protego!" Nott shouted as he raised a domed shield around him. The flames crashed against the defences and instantly surrounded the man in a ring of fire. With immense hatred, Nott spat, "We will meet again!" 

          Turais responded by clenching his fist, instantly shattering the shield. However, Nott Disapparated just before the flames reached him. 

          After ensuring that the man would not return, Turais inspected the two unconscious companions under magical disguises. He lifted the charm and found himself staring down at the familiar faces of Montague and Dolohov.

         Turais extinguished the flames and walked up to the half-destroyed bar table. Emptying the contents of his coin pouch, he picked up a napkin and wrote:

Sorry for all the trouble.

          Suddenly, the front door opened, and a half dozen villagers poured in with wands at hand.

          "Rosmerta!" Ambrosius Flume, the owner of Honeydukes, gasped as he ran up to help the barmaid to her feet. 

          "Nott was here…. In this shop," she said stammeringly.

          "And you fended them off, you brave witch….." 

          Turais slipped out of the pub and started running. 

          Everything became a blur afterwards. He only remembered how the thunderous pounding of his heart filled his ears and how his lungs burnt as he ran and ran and ran… 

          Finally, his legs gave out, and he fell to the ground. Looking around, he realised he was somewhere near the Slytherin common room, still cloaked and Disillusioned.

          Turais cancelled the spell and took a few minutes to calm his breathing before seeking out his brothers.

          "What is it?" demanded Regulus as Turais brought them to an unused classroom.

          "I was just at the Three Broomsticks and saw Brutus Nott."

          His brothers gasped in shock. 

          "Nott was in Hogsmeade?" asked Sirius.

          "Yes. He somehow caught wind that I frequented Hogsmeade and ambushed me." 

          "But… didn't you have your Cloak?" asked Regulus worriedly.

          Turais nodded. 

          "But he was holding Madam Rosmerta hostage. I was forced to duel him —" 

          "What?!" Regulus shouted worriedly. "Are you injured?"

          "Don't worry, I'm fine, though Nott managed to escape," Turais continued. "I need you two to promise not to sneak out to Hogsmeade under any circumstance."

          Sirius immediately gave Turais a comforting hug.

          "It's alright. There's not much to see in Hogsmeade anyway."

          Turais turned to the youngest brother, who hung his head in disappointment.

          "I'm sorry, Reggie."

          Regulus shook his head fiercely and threw himself onto Turais.

          "Your safety comes first. Always."

          Turais pulled them into a tight, wordless embrace. 

 

***

 

          The sighting of Brutus Nott in Hogsmeade caused a mild panic amongst the students, and Turais found himself thrust into the spotlight once more. This time, however, he shared it with the mysterious vigilante…

           "They call her the Shadow Phoenix — at least I think it's a 'she,'" James read the newspaper article excitedly. Sirius choked on his juice, for which he received a searing glare from Regulus. "The vigilante must be a Gryffindor!"

           "Why? Because only Gryffindors get to be the hero in every story?" Severus asked in a bored voice.

           "Well… not exactly, but we're brave! And what she did was nothing short of that!" 

           "To successfully counter an ambush and leave undiscovered is the mark of a true Slytherin." 

           Severus and James continued to argue as Jonty asked, "Why do you think Nott and the others showed up in Hogsmeade? They were never the brightest wands in school, but it takes a special kind of stupid to show up in public when you're a wanted criminal." 

           "Not if they were seeking revenge," Alex said softly.

           "You don't reckon they were trying to infiltrate Hogwarts to reach Turais?" Jonty said with a frown. "That's impossible. And not worth the risk." 

           "It is if you want it badly enough," Alex said as he gave Turais a penetrative look. "Also, who said anything about infiltrating Hogwarts?" 

           "Well, no matter what, Turais should thank the Shadow Phoenix for recapturing Montague and Dolohov. That must be a huge relief for you."

           Turais gave a perfunctory nod.

           A ruffled-looking school owl suddenly swooped over their heads and dropped a tiny scroll into Turais's hand. 

Behind Greenhouse Seven. Tonight at nine o'clock. - B.C.

          "What is it?" asked Jonty.

          "Just something about Study Club," Turais lied smoothly.

          After breakfast, Alex dragged Turais to an unused classroom.

          "Please tell me you weren't in Hogsmeade," he hissed. Turais gave a helpless shrug, which was all the confirmation Alex needed. "You're the Shadow Phoenix!" 

          "It was an accident. I had to meet with someone, and Nott somehow found out and ambushed me —"

          "How does one accidentally become a vigilante?!" 

          "Same as how one nearly dies and uncovers a centuries-old blood curse concerning his best mate during a wedding reception, I suppose." 

          The absurdity of it all struck them both, and they burst out in laughter. But Alex's chuckles quickly turned into hiccups and then wrecked sobs. After a few minutes, that, too, subsided.

          "I hate the Lestranges," Alex mumbled. 

          "Me too," said Turais. "We'll make sure they won't win." 

          "And Turais, I heard from Jonty that you have been borrowing a lot of books from the library lately," Alex said hesitantly. "You shouldn't spend all your time researching countercurses —"

          "Don't worry about me. I have it all figured out."

          "But —"

          "I will let you know if I find something. You focus on your O.W.L.s, alright?"

          Alex looked like he wanted to argue but ultimately allowed the topic to drop.

Chapter 78: Crouch's Confession

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

CROUCH'S CONFESSION


 

 

February 21, 1974 (Thursday)

 

RABASTAN LESTRANGE, ILLEGAL ANIMAGUS, CONVICTED AND INCARCERATED

By R. Almeidus

 

After the physical examination and an overwhelming array of eyewitness accounts that left no room for the defence, the Wizengamot expedited the trial proceedings and swiftly reached a guilty verdict for Rabastan Lestrange, who was found to be an unregistered crow Animagus.

When the verdict was pronounced, Lestrange became aggressive, which prompted the accompanying Aurors to subdue him with several stunning spells. The condemned wizard was promptly transported to Azkaban, where he will serve a sentence of five years without the possibility of parole.

Lord Arcturus Black thanked the Aurors' expedience and extended special commendation to Bartemius Crouch, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, for his efforts. 

Lestrange faces additional charges of attempted murder alongside his brother and sister-in-law, who are currently being held in the Ministry holding cells awaiting formal trial. Experts warn that this legal battle will be more drawn out than Lestrange’s conviction as an unregistered Animagus, as the case will be heard in the Grand Jury Court rather than the High Court…

 

***

 

           After breakfast, the students went down to the Quidditch Pitch for the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match. It quickly became apparent that Sirius was not performing at his usual skill level. His movements were sluggish, and he seemed to lack the usual finesse while handling the Quaffle. However, the Gryffindor Seeker made a decisive Snitch catch, keeping their hopes of reaching the finals.

          Throughout the match, Turais found his mind drifting back to the mysterious note. As the day progressed, Barty Crouch's noticeable absence further fuelled Turais's curiosity. When the clock struck half past eight that evening, Turais concealed himself under his Cloak and set out for the greenhouses under the waning moon. 

         A series of dark silhouettes lurked just beyond the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. They were engaged in hushed whispers, too quiet for Turais to overhear. He waved his wand in a circle around his head and pointed it toward the source.

          ' Vox Amplio, ' he cast nonverbally.

          Static filled his ears as Turais twisted his wrist delicately to focus the Aural Surveillance Charm. Gradually, the background noises tapered off, and a distorted voice came into the foreground.

          "... found a secret passageway to Hogsmeade," said Rookwood. "Follow me."

          The target shifted, and the surveillance charm broke. In the darkness, four figures emerged from the forest and approached the castle's front door, where Filch was locking up for the night. 

          "What do you think you're doing outside at this hour?" Filch said with his usual surliness. 

          "What is it to you, squib?" Rookwood sneered. 

          "Watch your tongue, brat! Do you think trying to steal books from the Restricted Section is not enough? There are worse punishments than detention —" 

          Filch cried out in pain as Rookwood struck him with a Stinging Hex.

          "You filthy liar. I've never been near the Restricted Section." Then the boy summoned the keys from Filch's grasp and flung them into the distance. "You better learn your place, squib. When the time comes, you're no better than a mudblood."

          Turais waited until the group had left before hurrying through the entrance after them, but not before first summoning the keys back to the caretaker.

          "Who's there?" he heard Filch roar as he ran into the courtyard undetected. There, he immediately cast a Tracking Spell.

          " Appare Vestigium. "

          A fine layer of golden dust settled onto the ground, revealing several trails of fresh footprints. They all headed in the same direction and ended abruptly in front of a large concave mirror that spanned an entire wall on the fourth floor.  

          It was one of the secret passageways to Hogsmeade, but having never used it before, Turais didn't know how to enter the room. Fortunately, he remembered he knew someone who did. He sprinted to the Gryffindor tower nearby and shouted the password at the Fat Lady.

          "Can't a lady have her beauty sleep?" she grumbled as the portrait hole swung open.

          A wave of noise and laughter crashed over Turais. Multicoloured fairy lights danced in the air as loud music pulsated throughout the space. Several students were huddled by the entrance, engaging in a lively game of Exploding Snap. Next to them were tables displaying an assortment of magical delicacies, including an escaped Chocolate Frog that was leaping across floating bowls of Butterbeer. 

          Turais spotted someone waving at him.

          "Hey, Turais!" Remus shouted excitedly as the others eyed the Slytherin in confusion. "Looking for Sirius? I think he went upstairs."

          "Thanks," Turais said, manoeuvring through the joyful chaos to the third-year dormitory. 

          The door was slightly ajar. After a single knock, Turais entered the dimly lit room and spotted Sirius sitting beside Marlene McKinnon on his bed, engrossed in conversation.

          "Turais?" Sirius looked up in surprise as Marlene withdrew her hand from his shoulder.

          "Hi, Marlene," greeted Turais. "Sirius, I need your assistance with something."

          "We can talk more later," said Marlene to Sirius. 

          Once she left the room, Turais asked worriedly, "Are you alright?"

          "Just needed a break from all the chaos." 

          "It can get overwhelming, especially when they expect you to be the life of the party." 

          Sirius nodded. Smiling brighter now, he asked, "So, how can I help?"

          "Do you know how to access the secret room behind the mirror on the fourth floor?"

          "Of course."

          They returned to the corridor, where Turais cast another Tracking Charm. Noticing no footprints leading away from the mirror, he steered Sirius into a nearby alcove.

          "We have to wait," whispered Turais. "I followed Rookwood's gang here. They're still inside."

          "Rookwood?! How did they discover this place?" Sirius hissed angrily. "James, Remus, Peter, and I spend most of our time here when we're not in class! This is our secret hideout —"

          Turais quickly covered Sirius's mouth as the mirror started to shimmer. Rookwood emerged, followed by Carrow, Scabior, and Travers.

          Once they disappeared around the corner, the two brothers approached the mirror. 

          "Do you see the suits of armour in the reflection?" Sirius asked, pointing out the image on the silvery surface. Then he directed Turais's attention to the actual suits of armour lining the wall. "Note the difference."

          "The shadows," Turais realised.

          "Exactly." Sirius lit some of the candles while leaving the others untouched. "You have to recreate the shadows as they appear in the reflection. This should do it…."

          The mirror rippled like water, and they stepped through. On the other side was a hidden pavilion with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the glass ceiling and onto the twisted limbs of a majestic tree. Deep inside the tree was a stone archway framed by cascading leaves and delicate tendrils.

          Another Tracking Spell showed numerous footprints encircling the base of the tree. Turais ran his wand over weathered stones and felt a deep thrum of magic emanating from within. Finding the central node embedded within the ward, he tapped it.

          Suddenly, Turais was standing in a narrow gap between a brick wall and a tree. He shuffled sideways until he emerged in a dark alleyway near a distinctive skyline of crooked chimneys.

          Hogsmeade.

          "Where did you go?" Sirius asked when Turais reappeared in the pavilion.

          "The tree is a secret passageway to Hogsmeade."

          "No way!" Sirius shouted in alarm. "And Rookwood found it before us? Nott and the others were just spotted in Hogsmeade. Rookwood is of the same crowd. He can't be trusted with this."

          "Indeed," Turais said grimly. "I will inform the professors —"

          "Why don't I find Professor McGonagall?" Sirius offered. "It's best if you don't draw any more attention to yourself."

          "You'd do that?"

          "What kind of question is that?" Sirius huffed.

          "Thank you," Turais said with a grateful smile. "But please, don't mention anything about me or Rookwood. There's something I wish to investigate further."

          The brothers parted ways. When Turais arrived outside the Slytherin common room, a boy stepped out from behind a suit of armour.

          It was Barty Crouch.

          "Did you go?" he asked at once. "What did you overhear?"

          "They've found a secret passageway to Hogsmeade," Turais replied as Crouch's eyes widened in shock. "But don't worry, the professors are already being notified. The passageway will be sealed permanently by tomorrow."

          "Is there nothing else?" Crouch asked.

          "What do you mean?" Turais frowned.

          "N…Nothing," Crouch replied quickly. "I just wanted to make sure that was all." 

          "Well, I owe you my thanks and an apology," Turais said slowly as Crouch looked up in surprise. "Thank you for entrusting me with this information, and I'm sorry for the suspicion. I was wary that you were trying to befriend me on your father's orders."

          Crouch swallowed heavily and averted his eyes.

          "It's alright," he whispered weakly. "And I'll let you know if I find out anything more with Rookwood and his lot."

          As Turais watched the boy leave, he could not help but feel something was amiss about the boy. 

          The following morning, Sirius updated him with the latest.

          "I showed McGonagall the passageway," Sirius explained as they walked to the Great Hall. "Professor Dumbledore came to inspect it as well. He said the only way to sever the connection was to cut down both trees simultaneously. They're working on that now."

          Turais nodded. When they entered the Great Hall, Sirius followed him to the Slytherin table instead of joining the Gryffindors. Meanwhile, James was scowling at them from across the room. 

          "What happened?" asked Turais. 

          "We had an argument," Sirius said with a shrug. "He said I should have kept the passageway a secret and demanded an apology for telling Professor McGonagall. I told him we could always find another secret hideout, but he didn't like that answer very much."

          "Are you sure —"

          "We did the right thing," Sirius interrupted. "James will have to learn to deal with minor inconveniences in his life." 

          Turais's heart swelled with pride.

          "When did you become so wise?" 

          "Wise?" Sirius asked in mock confusion. "Is that some sort of contagious condition? Must've caught it from all the years I've spent with you."

          Turais grinned. 

          "It's the cologne."

          Sirius sniffed at his own collar. 

          "Yeah, probably."

 

***

 

          Several days later, Alex received a note from Professor Mather asking for a visit. Turais immediately picked up their bags and sprinted towards the Ravenclaw tower. As Turais opened the office door, he asked, "Did you find something?"

          "No," Mather replied. He drew the boys' attention to the row of self-stirring cauldrons inside a giant bubble. It was a decontamination ward like the ones Damocles used in his laboratory. "After searching through several obscure texts, I have brewed several potions to test for different properties in your blood. It will help focus my research further. Mr Fawley, with your permission, I would like to obtain some of your blood. A few drops will suffice."

          After collecting Alex's blood, Mather placed a single drop into one solution at a time and observed each reaction. However, all the results either returned negative or inconclusive.

          "There is another set of brews I wish to attempt," Mather said. "I will let you know when it is ready."

          Despite the disappointment weighing heavily on his shoulders, Turais forced himself to wear a bright smile as he turned to his crestfallen companion.

          "Don't worry. It's all a part of the process." 

          "Indeed," Mather said. "There is another matter I wish to discuss with you. The holidays are approaching, and I would strongly suggest you take the opportunity to search Fawley House thoroughly."

          Alex froze predictably.

          "Chronicles, personal journals, and letters will be especially useful. Furthermore, if there is a greenhouse or laboratory, locate the experimental records," Mather continued. "You must handle these items with care as they will likely be protected by blood magic, which only allows access by a family member."

          "Professor Mather is right," Turais said softly after they left the office. "If there's any useful information pertaining to the curse, Fawley House is where you will find it —" 

          "Can we talk about this later?" Alex interrupted. "Are you hungry? I'm starving. Let's find something to eat."

          Turais hesitated but decided to let the conversation slide.

 

***

 

          The end of February saw the fiercely-contested Slytherin-Hufflepuff match in which the Slytherins managed to eke out a narrow victory. With all the teams having secured one victory each, the finalists would be determined by the winners of the last two regular matches of the year. However, none of the fifth-years had time to dwell on the results as they frantically prepared for the upcoming mock exams while completing their ever-growing pile of assignments. 

          "Are you writing your Potions essay as you are walking to your lesson?" Jonty asked as they descended the stairs.

          "I might be," Turais said, scribbling frantically.

          Despite his best efforts, there were simply not enough hours in a day to research countercurses on top of his long list of duties. Therefore, he made the conscious decision to forgo spending effort on his classwork as it did not count towards his O.W.L. grades.

          Lost in his work, Turais completely forgot about the trick step until his foot suddenly sank through it. He lurched forward, sending the pile of books in his hands, flying down the stairs. Fortunately, Jonty managed to steady him before he went sprawling.

          " Accio ," Turais muttered, gathering the items back in his arms.

          "If only you'd spend less time with your 'supplementary readings,'" said Jonty with a suggestive smirk.

          As the number of students studying in the Slytherin common room increased, Turais found himself seeking privacy in the Room of Requirement, which had been transformed into a library with shelves filled with books dedicated to the topic of blood curses. However, Turais would occasionally lose track of time or succumb to exhaustion, only to realise it was already the next morning.

          Unfortunately, his nocturnal activities did not go unnoticed by his fellow Slytherins and quickly became a new source of intrigue for the rumour mill.

          "Mr Black," Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly boomed. Turais turned to see the Transfiguration professor observing them from the floor above. "May I have a word with you?"

          "I'll tell Slughorn you'll be late," Jonty said.

          Turais muttered his thanks before following McGonagall to her office.

          "Have a seat, Mr Black," she said before offering him some ginger biscuits, which he declined. "How are you?"

          "I'm fine, Professor."

          "Anything that might be causing you distress?"

          "No," Turais replied, becoming increasingly confused. "What's the matter?"

          McGonagall scrutinised Turais's expression before handing him a piece of parchment, which he recognised as his latest Transfiguration essay.

          "I would like you to attempt the assignment again, Mr Black."

          Turais frowned.

          "I don't see anything wrong with this, Professor." 

          "That makes it all the more worrying," she replied. "I will be frank. Your recent performance in my class has been far below your usual standards. If you wish to perform well in your O.W.L.s, I suggest you delegate some of your responsibilities and focus on your studies. I want the rewritten essay by Friday."

          "Please, I don't have time to redo this assignment," Turais replied. "I know what I wrote is worth an 'Acceptable.'"

          McGonagall's expression turned positively chilling.

          "Mr Black, am I to understand correctly that you've knowingly submitted subpar work?" 

          Turais managed to suppress a flinch. Calmly, he replied, "With all due respect, only the exam will be reflected in my O.W.L. grade." 

          With a firm push, he slid the essay back across the desk towards McGonagall.

          The vein on her forehead threatened to burst as she said, "I shall drop your father a line. Perhaps he will talk some sense into you."

          "Professor, please wait until you see my mock exam results. You won't be disappointed," Turais said confidently.

          McGonagall peered at Turais through her thin spectacles with disapproval and intrigue in equal measure.

          "Very well. We shall reconvene in one week."

          During Potions class, Professor Slughorn allowed his students to brew any potion of their choice for revision. While everyone else was busily working on various fifth-year concoctions, Turais brewed a simple third-year recipe used for enhancing endurance and pocketed several flasks before working on his Arithmancy homework.

          "A beautiful brew, m'boy," Slughorn hummed appreciatively at the end of class. "However, the Girding Potion has never appeared in past O.W.L. exams." 

          "I wished to do something straightforward in class," replied Turais.

          "Personally, I wouldn't describe Arithmancy problems in such terms," Slughorn said with a wink. Turais flushed in embarrassment as the bell rang, then he made his way to Arithmancy class. 

          Just as he settled into his seat, the classroom door swung open as a group of students stumbled in, looking dishevelled. Their robes were splattered with mud, and some of them had scratches and bruises across their arms.

          "Merlin's beard, what happened?" Turais asked as Alex sat down and shot an unimpressed look at him.

          "Several students tried to capture a unicorn during class." 

          "What for?"

          "To find your mystery lover."

          "They clearly should spend more time worrying about their O.W.L.s than on my private business," Turais muttered frustratedly. "Unicorns prefer the company of younger females, not virgins!"

          "Virgin s ?" the boy in front of them turned around and gasped. "I knew there couldn't be just one!"

          "What? No! That's not —" 

          However, the boy was already writing notes and spreading the news to the others. Turais dragged his hands over his face and bit down a despairing groan.

          After enduring an hour of unnerving side glances and hushed whispers, Turais dragged Alex out of the classroom at the sound of the bell only to come face-to-face with his father. 

          "Father, why are you here?"

          "There is an extraordinary board meeting this evening to discuss Hogwarts's security in light of the recent incident in Hogsmeade," replied Orion as the students filed past while whispering and pointing at them.

          "Doesn't it require at least six school governors to call for an extraordinary meeting?"

          "I circulated a request to convene the board. Six joined, including Carrow and Travers," Orion revealed. Turais frowned at the mention of those two names. "I find their support puzzling as well, but in this particular case, it is helpful. Now, Alex, would you please fetch Regulus as well? I was hoping to spend the afternoon and supper with my boys."

          "Of course, Mr Black," Alex muttered, disappearing down the corridor.

          Orion waited until all the students had left before nudging a clothed object into Turais's hand.

          "What is this?"

          "Unwrap it, quickly now," hissed Orion, his cheeks turning into a faint pink flush.

          It was a plain leather-bound pocketbook. Orion tapped the cover with his wand, and a curious title appeared.

          Healer Hornsby's Most Delightful Pocket Companion

          The pages were hollowed out, and inside the cavity was a miniature portrait of two men and two women covered with scant, strategically-placed leaves. Realising they had an audience, they paired up randomly and started intertwining their bodies while sharing smouldering glances of desire.

          Orion cleared his throat noisily and started fiddling with his collar. 

          "S… study it at your leisure," he stammered. "And you might… um… wish to discuss things with Madam Duff. She teaches all the charms."

          Turais found himself biting down an exasperated laugh. 

          "I explained in my letters that the rumours are false."

          "Still, it's time for you to learn… certain adult functions. Please do not get anyone pregnant." 

          "I won't." Turais tucked the book safely in his bag before patting Orion on the shoulder. "You did well."

          "I did?" Orion asked, sounding hopeful.

          "But consider letting me deliver this talk to Sirius and Regulus when the time comes."

          Orion scowled as Alex and Regulus appeared around the corner. 

          When Alex turned to leave, Orion called out after him.

          "Alex, aren't you joining us?"

          "I am?" Alex asked.

          "Of course," Orion said, placing an arm around Alex's shoulder. "Now, who knows the fastest way to the Gryffindor common room —" 

          There was a loud hoot as an owl flew down the corridor and deposited a note in Turais's hands.

           Tonight. Same place, same time.

          "Who's this from?" Orion asked at once.

          "Just an acquaintance," Turais replied hastily.

          "Didn't you hear, Father? Ordinary acquaintances send each other coded messages and requests for secret rendezvous," said Regulus, and Turais gave him a hard smack on the head.

 

***

         

          After dinner, Turais made up an excuse not to follow Alex and Regulus back to the common room and headed down to the greenhouses. Just as he was about to move closer, he caught an unnatural shimmer in the air as if there was a transparent veil fluttering in the breeze.

          A Caterwauling Charm. 

          Rather than dismantling the charm, a time-consuming and risky endeavour, Turais crouched behind the hedges and wordlessly cast a Nebulus . The air around the greenhouses gradually turned opaque as a layer of dense, milky fog rolled in and hid him within it. 

          Once again, he cast the Aural Surveillance Charm.

          "... each responsible for your list of candidates. Approach them only when you are absolutely certain no one is around," said Rookwood.

          The voice stopped, and Turais pointed his wand in a different direction to catch the conversation. 

          The voice of Barty Crouch suddenly spoke up. "But Black is watching us closely."

          "Even the all-seeing eye must occasionally blink. We cannot let him or his allies catch wind of this," Rookwood hissed dangerously. "Remember, secrecy is of the essence."

          Another voice that of Sykes whispered shakily, "I don't want to do this —" 

          "Then I will hand you over to the professors," Rookwood growled. "And you will rot in Azkaban and leave your family name in utter ruins. Would you like that?"

          "N… no —"

          "We have been chosen to complete the Dark Lord's work. When we succeed, we will have the honour of joining his ranks with all the riches and glory we desire," Rookwood said forcefully.

          His voice was soon replaced by static as Turais reeled from the revelation.

          He remained at his hiding spot for several minutes more to ensure that everyone was gone when there was a warning rustle behind him. Turning around with his wand ready, Turais saw the faint outline of a person searching through the haze.

          "Black. Are you here?" Crouch called out nervously. 

          Turais shed his Cloak, and the younger boy gasped in surprise.

          "You were working with Rookwood all this time," Turais breathed harshly.

          "I'm not!" Crouch protested immediately. "I'll show you!"       

          Rummaging through his bag, he pulled out a list of names and a pile of scorched posters. Turais first checked the list and found that it mainly consisted of Slytherin purebloods. The posters were the ones that had gone missing around the school, and they had a series of burnt marks in a recurrent rhombus pattern.

          "These posters have been tampered with," Turais said as Crouch shifted uncomfortably. "The marks are signs of spell damage from improperly cast modifying charms."

          Noticing how Crouch was rubbing his forearm, Turais seized his hand and raised it. The sleeve fell back and revealed several diamond-shaped blemishes on his pale skin. 

          "Rookwood made me do it!" Crouch said immediately.

          With a restrained tone, Turais demanded, "Explain yourself. And this time, without any tricks, lies, or omissions."

          Crouch swallowed heavily before whispering, "Everything I said before was true. At the start of the term, I was alone in an unused classroom when I heard someone enter. I didn't want anyone to know I was inventing new spells, so I hid in the broom closet. That's how I overheard Rookwood and his gang talking about setting up an underground society to recruit new members for their Dark Lord."

          "How many have they recruited? Tell me everything you know," Turais asked urgently.

          "I don't know! This is the first time I went to one of their meetings," Crouch replied shakily. "But things aren't going well for them. They said nobody was interested in joining them, even less so after the incident at the Lestrange Manor. No one wants to join a side that's always losing, you see…."

          Turais breathed a little easier, but he pressed on, "What is your role in all this? How did you get involved?"

          "They somehow figured out that I knew of their plan and threatened to implicate me. My father… He wants to run for Minister of Magic. This would be a huge embarrassment for him. So I kept my silence.

          "But then, a few weeks later, they came to me with some posters and a demand. They somehow knew I liked to experiment with spells. They wanted me to modify your posters to advertise their group to those who were ideologically aligned while concealing it from everyone else. But I... I'm just a first-year. If they couldn't manage it, how would I?!" Crouch cried out.  "And then they demanded more and more from me. I knew I had to get out of this mess…."   

          "But notifying the professors would mean implicating yourself," Turais realised. "So you wanted someone other than yourself to uncover their plans. Someone who'd be willing to confront them. Me ."

          Crouch looked away and nodded.

          "You have considered everything, haven't you?" asked Turais.

          "Apparently not," Crouch muttered. "But you believe me?"

          "Yes," Turais said. "However, we must involve the Headmaster —"

          Panic and fear seized Crouch's face. 

          "You don't get it," Crouch said desperately. "It's not just about the professors. My father, he won't understand. He cannot know! —"

          "This is too big for us to handle ourselves," Turais said firmly. He placed a hand on Crouch's shoulder. "You will not be in trouble. I swear on my magic."

          Reluctantly, Crouch nodded.

 

***

 

          "State your business," said the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office.

          "We have to see the Headmaster," Turais said.

          "He is currently in a meeting. Please wait."

          "It's an emergency!" shouted Turais. To his surprise, the gargoyle jumped aside, allowing access to the hidden spiral staircase.

          They burst into the circular office and found all four Heads of House and twelve school governors looking at them in utter surprise. Turais deliberately avoided Orion's gaze as he approached the Headmaster's desk.

          "Good evening, Mr Black," Dumbledore greeted. "I see that Mr Crouch is here as well. I hope you have a good reason to be outside your common room after curfew?"

          "Seeing that the meeting concerns the school's security, I cannot imagine a more appropriate setting for this," Turais said. Meanwhile, Crouch glanced at the stern faces around them and nervously tugged at Turais's robe. "In between all your frequent absences from the school, I hope you have not forgotten that your duty as headmaster is to protect and uphold the students' welfare."

          "Mr Black, I assure you that I understand the roles and functions of my office." 

          "The fact that this has escaped your notice suggests otherwise," Turais said as he set down a glass vial containing a long strand of memory on Dumbledore's desk. "Check for alterations if you wish, but the content is indisputable. We will be waiting outside."

          "Hecate, save me!" Crouch hissed after the door closed behind them. "You can't speak to the headmaster like that!"

          "I will gladly sacrifice manners if it means resolving the situation sooner." 

          Minutes later, the door opened as all the professors and school governors slowly filed out, revealing nothing in their stoic expressions.

          Finally, Orion appeared. Clutching his son's shoulders, he demanded, "What happened, Turais?"

          "Did he see the memory?" asked Turais.

          "Yes, and he wishes to speak with the both of you in private." Orion glared at Crouch distrustingly.

          "Father, I will explain everything after." 

          "I will be waiting for you here." 

          The boys found Dumbledore standing over his pensieve. He turned around, his expression grave, and said, "Tell me everything."

 

***

 

          After the meeting, Turais and Crouch waited with Orion at the base of the stairwell while Slughorn and Mather brought in the implicated students for interviews. 

          "This was a mistake. This was a mistake," Crouch muttered repeatedly. Then, hurried footsteps approached them as Crouch's parents appeared. The senior Crouch marched forward with a murderous scowl.

          "Fraternising with criminals?!" the man barked as the younger Crouch flinched. "Where did you learn this putrid behaviour? Haven't you brought enough shame to the family?"

          "Bartemius," Mrs Crouch warned. She relaxed her husband's grip, and their son immediately retreated behind her. "Let's hear what the headmaster has to say first —"

          "This is what happens when you are too lenient with him. He goes on to become a criminal!"

          "That's not what happened," Turais interjected. "Your son —"

          He was interrupted when the staircase behind them suddenly rotated to reveal the Headmaster.

          "Everyone, please follow me. We have much to discuss."

          Turais, Crouch, and the adults followed Dumbledore into his office, where Slughorn and Mather were already waiting.

          Dumbledore cleared his throat and began, "Mr and Mrs Crouch, Mr Black. Please rest assured that your sons are not in trouble. Rather, they have done our school a great service.

          "As you may know, the self-proclaimed political figure known as Voldemort and his group of loyal followers, the Knights of Walpurgis, have been linked to several terrorist attacks over the past few years. Recently, the group has been struggling to increase its membership, and it seems that they have become sufficiently desperate to lure our students with false promises of riches and prestige. They have also undergone a rebranding. They now call themselves… the Death Eaters."

          Dumbledore looked at Mr Crouch, who returned a nod. Meanwhile, Turais's breath hitched at the name.

          Mrs Crouch clutched her son tightly and asked, "What does my Barty have to do with them?"

          "Your son overheard their recruitment plans and was discovered. They forced him to do their bidding under duress," Dumbledore explained. "He warned young Mr Black, who recognised the severity of the situation and brought the matter to my attention. Due to their act of bravery, we will be able to eliminate Voldemort's influence on our school before the group gains a proper foothold. As such, Mr Black and Mr Crouch, I will award you both one hundred points apiece for Slytherin.

          "Now, Horace, would you mind escorting the students back to their common room?" Dumbledore said. "Bartemius, please stay. You as well, School Governor. I would like to continue our discussion on strengthening the school's defences."

          "Turais," Orion whispered worriedly, but Turais gave him a reassuring smile.

          "I will be alright, Father."

          Slughorn seemed distracted on their way to the dungeons. After arriving in front of the common room, he quickly muttered an excuse and hurried away. Then, Crouch pulled Turais into an unused classroom nearby and closed the door.

          "What is it?" asked Turais.

          Crouch dipped his head and said, "I have one last confession to make. You asked before why I decided to come to you with the information. There was one more reason. I was trying to curry your favour — not because of my father's orders, but because I… I wanted you not to hate me."

          Turais thought back to the interaction on the train and winced internally.

          "Why are you telling me this now?" 

          "Because you kept your word and deserved the complete truth," Crouch answered. "Long before I arrived at Hogwarts, I heard many things about you from my father. He's always despised everything associated with Dark families and Slytherin, yet he had no complaints about this Turais Black fellow. So I became curious and followed you in the news. You were exactly what I wanted to be. Successful. Confident. Savvy…  The Sorting Hat also knew that and wanted to sort me into Slytherin. But you know how much my father cares about his reputation. I knew he wouldn't be able to tolerate me being a Slytherin, so I asked to be Sorted into Hufflepuff —"

          "But you're a Slytherin now." 

          "The Hat convinced me that this is where I should be," Crouch said. Finally meeting Turais's eyes, he said, "I guess what I'm saying is that I wanted to follow your example. My father always worries I'll be led astray in Slytherin, and I want to prove to him that I won't." 

          Crouch's admission struck Turais deeply, stirring up mixed emotions.

          Cedric's death. The rebirth of Voldemort. The fake Moody who first inspired him to become an Auror. 

          These memories of betrayal and pain resurfaced in Turais's mind. However, it also reminded him that things were different now and that Crouch deserved the chance to choose a different path.

          Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Turais met Crouch's gaze. 

          "I confess that you reminded me of someone who has wronged me…" he began, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "But that is no excuse for treating you the way I did. I was unfair to you, and I am sorry, too."

          "So, is there still a chance for us to be friends?" Crouch asked, his voice trembling.

          Turais stared at his tightly-held fist before slowly uncurling his fingers and raising his hand.

          "I'm Turais. Pleased to make your acquaintance." 

          Crouch hesitated for a moment before grasping it firmly.

          "Please call me Barty. Bartemius is my father," the boy said as a grin formed on his lips.

Chapter 79: A Visitor from the North

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

A VISITOR FROM THE NORTH


 

March 5, 1974 (Tuesday)

 

KENNETH MACANDRUAIDH, CHIEFTAIN OF CAIRNGORMS, PASSES AWAY AT 125 

by R. A. Limus, Wizengamot Correspondent

 

          Kenneth MacAndruaidh has passed away at the age of 125 following complications from a dragon pox infection.

          His funeral will be held tomorrow evening at Ardsheal House in Glenfaelad followed by a private open-air cremation, his family announced.

          Elected in 1935, MacAndruaidh was a fierce traditionalist who expanded Cairngorms's policy of isolationism favoured by his predecessors. As a result, diplomatic ties between Wizarding Britain and the Cairngorms Hunting Clan were often strained under his administration . Most famously, MacAndruaidh denied Minister Leonard Spencer-Moon’s request for military aid at the peak of the Global Wizarding War, stating that their "hunters [were] not potion ingredients to be thrown into an exploding cauldron that [was] the European continent."

          MacAndruaidh's passing has triggered the search for a new Chieftain. Elected for life, the next Chieftain will undoubtedly play an outsized role in British politics, given the increasing political turmoil and upcoming ministerial elections. The two front-runners are Diane Swindon, who favours more cooperation with the British Ministry of Magic, and Egbert Glencraft, a staunch proponent of continued isolationism…

 

*** 

 

           Sharp-eyed students were quick to notice an overnight increase of emeralds in the Slytherin hourglass. Speculation and rumours ran rampant as they tried to decipher the cause, and they were partially answered later that day when Dumbledore announced that Aurors were to be stationed in the school when they returned from the holidays. 

           In the ensuing week, as the fifth-years were busy writing their mock exams, news broke that Rookwood and his accomplices faced indefinite suspension, suggesting that the Aurors had successfully linked Rookwood's activities to the Death Eaters. 

          Turais finally told his friends about the incident one day during Potions class after their mock exams were finished.

          "I knew there was something off about that Crouch boy," Jonty growled.

          "Why are you only telling us now?" demanded Alex.

          "I didn't want to distract you during revisions," Turais explained, and his friend gave a disgruntled huff. "Alone, Voldemort is no different from any other petty dark wizard. The true danger lies in his ability to aggregate an army of supporters and the damage he will cause when he unleashes it. Rookwood is only one part of a much larger recruitment effort, but if Voldemort has turned his sight onto Hogwarts students, it means he is getting desperate."

          "But many of them, like Rookwood, have been indoctrinated by their parents since birth. They won't ever be convinced to abandon their cause," Jonty pointed out. "And if recruitment occurs within their own homes, there isn't much you can do." 

          "That may be true, but there are many who are wary of him despite agreeing with his ideologies. They might be persuaded to remain neutral," Turais said as he thought back to Draco Malfoy with a pang of regret. "There could also be those who wish to leave but feel they have no recourse. If we offer protection and support, perhaps they will make the leap of faith."

          "Forgive my cynicism, but I'm familiar with their circles," Jonty said. "Amongst those who have not yet publicly denounced Voldemort, few fit your descriptions."

          "I must try," Turais replied firmly. "Every person who can be convinced to turn away from Voldemort is one less person he can use to further his cause."

          "In that case, focus on Malfoy," Jonty said. "He remains uncommitted to their cause for now, but I have caught whispers that Voldemort is pushing for an answer, and his patience is running thin."

          "I can handle Malfoy," Turais said, to which Jonty arched a brow curiously. "What I need is someone who can contact those beyond my reach and can navigate those connections discreetly. Someone… familiar with their circles —"

          "Hold your hippogriffs!" Jonty protested loudly before looking around in alarm. Whispering this time, he said, "I never agreed to this!"

          "I'm not asking you to do anything dangerous, Jonty." Turais pulled out the list of names Barty provided. "These are all the students targeted for recruitment, most of whom I cannot contact without raising suspicion. I need someone to monitor them, and you are the only one I trust for this task."

          Jonty rubbed his hands together nervously. "My father has managed to tread a fine line so far and is keen on keeping it that way." 

          "I understand," Turais said. "All I ask is that you maintain those relations and monitor them for any signs of further recruitment from Voldemort or if anyone shows promising signs of defiance." 

          Jonty stared at the proffered list for a long moment before stuffing it into his robes.

           "I'll think about it."

           

***

 

          The next morning, Turais hurried out of the Slytherin dungeons and made his way to the One-Eyed Witch statue. As he turned around the corner, he crashed into a pair of prefects and tumbled onto the floor.

          "Someone's in a hurry," Edgar Bones said with a grin, pulling Turais onto his feet. Eleanor Dorrance brushed herself off and gazed at him scrutinisingly.

          "Excuse me, I have somewhere to be," Turais muttered.

          "Of course you do, with that fiendish workload of yours. Study Club? Or meeting up with your secret lover?" 

          Just as Turais was about to protest, he caught a glimpse of an incredible blue glow from the stone on Eleanor's pendant, which had swung into view from their collision. It was so brilliant that the surrounding torches seemed dim in comparison.

          "What's that?" he asked, squinting at the light. 

          All the blood drained from Eleanor's face. Without warning, she turned and fled.

          "What? What did I say?" Turais asked with a worried frown.

          "It's not you," Edgar said immediately.

          "Are you sure? She's my assigned patrol partner but has swapped duties every week. I can't help but feel like she's avoiding me."

          Edgar sighed. 

          "She's not been herself this year. I suspect something must've happened at home, but she refuses to tell anyone."

          Parting with Edgar, Turais navigated the secret passage and crept out of Honeydukes. 

          The security presence in Hogsmeade had intensified after the skirmish with Nott. Turais had to evade two teams of patrolling Aurors on his way out of the village before continuing down a long, winding path northward.

          Just before he reached the neighbouring hamlet of Upper Hogsfield, he stopped in front of an abandoned structure. Next to the gate was an odd pile of bricks topped by a white narcissus flower. Once inside, he ventured to the attic, where a woman emerged from the shadows.

          "Apologies for the short notice, Narcissa." 

          "Once I heard the news of the recent incident in Hogwarts, I knew you would contact me," she replied. "I am glad to see you well, but if you've come to talk politics, I must disappoint you. I have no interest in engaging in such matters."

          "Then I will skip the pleasantries. Cousin, this is far greater than a political feud between two houses," said Turais. "Initially, everyone thought Voldemort wished to accrue power by gaining key Wizengamot allies and dismissed the terrorist attacks as isolated events. However, this incident has revealed his true ambitions. Those attacks were merely a prelude for what is to come: Voldemort seeks war and is not above sacrificing children to achieve his goals."

          Turais paused, but Narcissa remained silent. 

          "Bellatrix has chosen to take her place beside Voldemort, and I will not hesitate to oppose them every step of the way. But there are no victors in war, only survivors. As for those who have yet to choose their fate…" Turais said. "You must surely recognise that neutrality is the best course of action —"

          "You think I don't know that?" Narcissa interrupted harshly. Regaining composure, she looked out the window and said, "Ever since the passing of his father, Lucius has been keen to make a name for himself. His mind is set."

          "Do not underestimate your influence," said Turais. "Remind him that no matter what, family always comes first." 

          "I can make no promises," said Narcissa before Disapparating in a swirl of dust. 

 

***

 

          When Turais and Alex arrived outside the Room of Requirement for defence practice on Wednesday, they were faced with an unexpected guest.

          "Hi, Turais." Remus waved his hand sheepishly between an excited Sirius and a fuming Regulus.

          Regulus immediately pulled his brothers to the other end of the corridor and hissed, "This was supposed to be between the four of us!"

          "Remus, Peter, and I were discussing the recent string of incidents last night, and I thought it would be good for them to learn how to defend themselves, too!" Sirius protested.

          "Turais doesn't have time," Regulus replied immediately. "He's busy enough as it is." 

          "It's only two more," said Sirius.

          "What about James?" asked Turais.

          "He's still ignoring me," Sirius replied simply. "So, you don't mind them joining, do you, Turais?"

          Before Turais could answer, laughter came echoing down the hallway. Peter came into view, followed by two dozen Gryffindors. Alarmed, Sirius rushed over to stop the crowd and dragged Peter over.

          "Pete, I told you not to tell anyone else about this!"

          "I'm sorry," Peter squeaked. "I ran into Mirabel during lunch, and she asked where I was headed, and I… I panicked…."

          Sirius groaned. "I know you fancy her, Pete. But you've got to be more sensible than this!" 

          "That's rich coming from you," Regulus said snidely as Peter muttered another apology. "Send them off, Turais. We never promised to train them."

          The prospect of hosting another club was daunting, but the benefits of teaching the students proper self-defence were indisputable. Then, a single glance at Remus's hopeful expression all but made up his mind.

          "It's alright," Turais said with a sigh. A severe scowl came over Regulus's face, and he looked moments away from stomping off. "Sirius, Alex, please tell them that today's session is cancelled. However, they are all invited to join the Defence Club next week."

          Turais then slung an arm around his youngest brother. "Reggie, come with me. Let's find Professor Slughorn and make this club official." 

          When they turned the corner, Turais dropped his voice and said, "Please don't be upset." 

          "I'm not upset," said Regulus, throwing off the arm. Met with Turais's unconvinced stare, Regulus looked away and whispered, "I thought this would stay between the four of us. You're already overcommitted as things stand. I just… I just wished you knew how to say no to… people ."

          "But Reggie, this could save lives," Turais explained. "What if I promise that this is the final commitment I take on this year?"

          After a long moment, Regulus replied with a forceful "Fine." 

          "Are we alright, then?" Turais motioned for a hug, which Regulus accepted while rolling his eyes.

          Professor Slughorn rubber-stamped Turais's request to start a Defence Club, and the news seemed to spread in mere minutes throughout the school. The following week, Turais stood in the Great Hall in front of more than one hundred students, including several Slytherins with whom he had been at odds since his first year.

          After Turais introduced them to the basics of self-defence and told them to pair up, an older Ravenclaw girl walked up to approach him. Her wisp, blonde hair was adorned with a striking crown of red peonies, and her robe had colourful runic patches sewn along the sleeves.

          "Hello, would you like to be my training partner today?"

          "Urm… alright," Turais said, bemused. "I don't believe we've met." 

          "I don't believe we have. My name is Pandora Anstey. It's nice to meet you." She took a few steps back and held her wand in a standard defensive stance. "I'd like to practise my Shield Charm if that's alright with you."

          "Of course," said Turais, sending a quick Disarming Spell her way. She parried it with a graceful, almost dance-like motion as something clicked into place inside Turais's mind.      

          Pandora. Luna's mother.

          Turais barely managed to deflect the returning spell. Pandora crossed her arms and smirked. "It's inadvisable to be distracted during a duel."

          "Indeed so," Turais said before readying his second spell.

          Surprisingly, the session did not descend into utter chaos, considering the numerous younger students in the mix. And when Turais announced the end of the session, it was met with a chorus of groans. 

          "That was fun. Regulus did mention you were a good teacher," Pandora said before walking away.

          As Turais and Regulus returned to the Slytherin common room, he asked, "How do you know Pandora Anstey?"

          "How did you know?" said Regulus.

          "She told me during Defense Club."

          Regulus groaned. "No one knows about this, but I recently joined the Hogwarts Spellmasonry Club, and… well… she manages it."

          The Spellmasonry Club was dedicated to exploring spellcraft and runecraft, but it was quite obscure as its members had an unfortunate reputation of being extremely aloof or eccentric — or both.

          "Are Severus and Barty part of this?"

          "Considering that they're the ones who dragged me into it, yes," muttered Regulus. "But please don't tell anyone. We'll be teased to no end! The last thing I need is to be called an anorak!"

          "I really don't see a problem," Turais said with a frown. "But I'll keep quiet if you want me to."

 

***

 

           The week before the Easter holidays saw the return of their mock exam results, and the tension amongst the students was such that even Turais was swept up in a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

          "Please let it be an 'Acceptable'," Jonty whispered repeatedly as McGonagall strolled up to his desk. The moment he received the marked paper, he stood up and cheered, "I passed! I can't believe I passed!"

          The professor turned to Turais and Alex, and a familiar hush descended upon the class.

          "Congratulations on achieving top marks, Mr Black," she announced to a chorus of groans around the room. "Two points were deducted on the final question, Mr Fawley, but overall, an excellent effort."

          Turais nudged Alex. "Told you not to worry about me."

          "This is only the theory component," Alex said. "The practical component is a completely different matter —"

          Turais leaned back and smirked. "Just admit you worry too much."

          "I will when I see the same marks written on your official O.W.L.s results come August," Alex replied stubbornly.

          At the final bell, McGonagall called Turais up to her desk and said, "I must admit, I'm rather befuddled as to how you've achieved these marks given your extensive extracurricular commitments —"

          "Aren't we all?" Chesterfield shouted nearby to a smattering of laughter. McGonagall gave the Gryffindor boy a stern glance, who promptly fled from the classroom.

          "I still have my reservations, Mr Black, but I cannot argue with the results."

          Turais nodded.

          "If that's all, please have a wonderful holiday!"

          Turais had predictably gained top marks in all his subjects, with the notable exception of History of Magic, which he managed to scrape by with an "Acceptable" without even bothering to study. 

          On the day they were to head back home, Turais and Alex received an urgent owl from Professor Mather. They found the professor standing by the front entrance, surrounded by several trunks.

          "Professor, are you headed somewhere?" asked Turais.

          "Indeed," Mather replied and handed them an old brochure from decades ago.

Circus Arcanus: Museum of Human Oddities

See with your own eyes… The unheard of MALEDICTUS…

          Below the slogan was an image of a woman whose torso was merged with a large, green snake.

          "Circus Arcanus?" asked Turais. "Maledictus?"

          "This circus once had a performer who could transform into a snake at will. I spoke with the owner, Skender. He confirmed that the ability stemmed from a rare blood curse only found in the Andaman Archipelago off the coast of India," Mather explained. "Let us hope this journey proves fruitful."

          After bidding farewell to the Professor, they made their way to the carriages. Alex said, "I can't believe he's travelling halfway across the globe for me."

          Turais eyed his friend carefully and asked, "So, have you given Professor Mather's suggestion any thought?"

          "I… I know we should visit," Alex mumbled quietly. "But the house-elves… I don't want them…." 

          "I understand, but they know all of your family's secrets. If you don't wish to interact with them, simply order them to obey me. I can handle the rest unless something calls for your attention." Alex gave a small nod, and Turais squeezed him on the shoulder. "Everything will be alright."

 

***

 

          They arrived at Fawley House in a swirl of green flames. Turais stumbled slightly as he climbed out of the fireplace, which elicited a small snort from his companion.

          The main hall, once a picture of neglect, now basked in the gentle embrace of sunlight. The dust and cobwebs that had once held dominion over every corner had been banished, revealing the intricate details and vibrant hues of the ornate furnishings. There was also a faint hint of lemon and polish in the air as a diligent army of charmed brooms, cloths, and feather dusters continued to work silently throughout the manor.

          The pair of Fawley house-elves appeared with a loud crack.

          "Master Fawley has returned with his… guest," Gimkey said the last word with undisguised distaste.

          Turais gave Alex an encouraging nod.

          "Gimkey, Tully," Alex said with authority. "From now on, you will obey Turais as you would obey me. His words are my words. Do you understand?"

          "Yes, Master Fawley," the elves croaked in unison. 

          They dismissed the elves and headed to the family library to begin their search in earnest.

          However, as they delved deeper and deeper into the contents of the library, their excitement waned and was replaced by a growing sense of disappointment. Page upon page detailed various family members across the generations attempting to break the curse. However, all journals ended with abrupt blank pages, signalling their untimely demise.

          "'... will head to Glenfaelad in search of the cure….' and then, nothing!" Alex shouted in frustration.

          "There has to be something in here," Turais murmured.

          "What are we even doing? Of course, the cure isn't here! If any of them were successful, we would be talking to them instead of flipping through their useless diaries!" Alex threw the journal into the pile and stood up. "Let's just head home. We've read enough for today."

           Emerging from the fireplace in 12 Grimmauld Place, they came to an abrupt halt as they saw Arcturus seated on the couch.

          "There you are," said Arcturus, setting down his cup of tea.

          "Grandfather," greeted Turais. "I wasn't aware that you were looking for me." 

          "Evidently not," Arcturus said coolly. "Now that the both of you have finally arrived, I wish to discuss something. You will be coming of age next year, and it is time you learn how to manage the estate you stand to inherit." Two identical sets of books appeared on the table. "For the rest of the holidays, I will be holding daily lessons —"

          "But, Grandfather, we have our O.W.L.s to study for —"

          "Yet you have time to explore Fawley House," Arcturus said icily. "Read these thoroughly. I will see you in the study at nine. Do not be late."

          "There won't be time to research in the Fawley library," Turais hissed when Arcturus disappeared through the Floo. 

          "We won't find anything useful, Turais," Alex sighed. "Frankly, I prefer this, and I'm glad your grandfather cares enough to teach me as well."

          "I'm sure the goblins are doing an admirable job managing the estate. But Alex, this is your future at stake —" 

          "So is yours! You are the heir, and this is your job. You cannot neglect your duty to your family!" argued Alex. He sighed, and the fight left him. "Sorry, I know you only mean to help."

          "No, you're right," said Turais, reminded of his original purpose for returning to this timeline. "Can you imagine if it was Sirius in my place?"

          Alex cracked a grin.

          "Yeah, that definitely wouldn't be ideal."

 

***

 

          The rest of the week passed with Turais and Alex sitting in the study for hours while Arcturus lectured them on various aspects of estate management. At the end of Thursday's session, he announced that Turais would accompany him for a meeting at Gringotts the following morning. Recognising it as a potential test and determined to make an impression, Turais woke up in the middle of the night to conduct a final review of their investment portfolio.

          As Turais entered the dark kitchen, a silhouette climbed out of the cellar. Lighting the lamps, he saw a boy crouching by the cabinet. 

          "Morning…" Regulus said weakly.

          Turais eyed the armful of sweets and said, "Grandfather is coming down at six today. You should tell your friends to leave before then."

          At daybreak, Severus and Barty crept past him and muttered their thanks before disappearing in dual flashes of green. A few minutes later, Sirius lazily strolled in and sat beside him.

          "You're up early," said Turais, not looking up from his work.

          "Remus is coming by, and he's a morning owl. He said he had something to tell me." Peering down at the book, Sirius asked, "Are you still studying these?"

          " Someone has to in order for you to focus on your mischief," Turais replied. Sensing Sirius's gaze, he finally glanced up and asked, "What is it?"

          "I'm just thinking about how much I don't fancy being you." Sirius placed a hand on Turais's shoulder and said solemnly, "Please don't die."

          Turais shook his head with a fond smile.

          "I'll do my best."

          After breakfast, Turais walked into the study where Arcturus was waiting.

          "Did you manage to read through the portfolio?" 

          "Yes, Grandfather," Turais said. "Actually, there were some aspects of how things are being done that I had questions about."

          "You shall have the opportunity to ask the goblins yourself," Arcturus said. He held up a silver key adorned with intricate engravings of three ravens. "Place your hand on my arm." 

          The room around them began to warp and twist. Just as Turais felt on the verge of toppling over, the spinning ceased, and he found himself standing in the shadow of a magnificent tree. Sweet scents of heather and pine wafted through his nostrils.

          The valley stretched out before them like a canvas. Rolling hills, adorned with splashes of blue and purple wildflowers, descended gracefully to the shores of a serene lake. On either side of the valley, rugged mountains reached skyward, with their peaks concealed behind swirling mists.

          Arcturus drew Turais's attention away from the view and pointed at the dense, milky fog behind them.

          "Watch closely."

          With a wave of his wand, a gust of wind parted the dense fog and revealed the familiar silhouette of a ruined castle. 

          Turais sucked in a breath. It was Raafenhyll, the home of the first Blacks.

          "This castle contains many secrets of generations past," said Arcturus. "But more on that later. Follow me."

          The weight of centuries had left its indelible mark on the ancient structure. Moss clung tenaciously to the stone surfaces while sinuous tendrils of ivy wound their way up the crumbling walls and arches. They ventured further into the heart of the structure and stopped in front of the east-facing wall, where a resplendent stained glass once stood. Only several fragments still clung to the weathered stone, refracting the muted sunlight to form a sentence on the floor.

          Fortius Quo Fidelius.

          Suddenly, Turais's ring glowed, and the clouds gathered above them in a tempestuous swirl. As the room dimmed, the cracked, moss-covered floor transformed into polished marble. Moments later, they were transported to a magnificent subterranean antechamber beneath a grandiose chandelier. 

           They were in Gringotts.

           However, unlike the Diagon Alley entrance, only a singular teller's desk stood in the centre of the room, and no other customers were in sight.

          There was a smattering of footsteps as an elderly goblin appeared. His skin bore a faint yellowish hue that contrasted the patches of silver hair above each ear. Stopping a short distance away, he inclined his head in a deep bow and said, "Lord Black, welcome back to Gringotts Wizarding Bank. We have been awaiting your arrival." 

          "This is my eldest grandson, Turais," Arcturus said. "He will be joining us in our meeting today."

          The goblin's eyes studied Turais with a sharp shrewdness before bowing again.

          "It is my pleasure to greet the future steward of your great House. Please follow me this way."

          "I didn't know there were private entrances to Gringotts," said Turais.

          "Only Houses with great wealth or great power — in your case, both — can arrange for such a service," Grindok said with another bow.

          Once they settled into a pair of plush chairs, a team of stern-faced goblins filed into the room.

          "Today, we will review the family's investment portfolio," Grindok said. "Earlier this year, we strategically allocated a portion of your investments to the spellcraft sector, and it has yielded impressive returns due to the rising interest in magically enhanced muggle appliances. In the broomcraft sector, we saw a significant decline in the stock price for Cleansweep. However, we believe it to be a mild correction and maintain a positive outlook on their growth. As for the —"

          "Excuse me," interrupted Turais. "Why aren't we investing in Nimbus?" 

          "Excellent question, Master Turais Black," said Grindok. "Cleansweep may be experiencing a slower growth rate, but it possesses a large customer base and a proven track record. On the contrary, Nimbus carries a much higher level of risk and volatility."

          "But Nimbus is superior to its competitors across all metrics," argued Turais. "Many decade-long broom manufacturing deals are set to expire at the end of this year's Quidditch season. While Nimbus was unavailable during the last renewal, multiple teams have already signed partnership deals with the company, and more are keen to follow."

          "We do not believe the current growth is sustainable," said Grindok. "Nimbus is merely a fad, and its novelty will soon disappear. Additionally, recent success masks its underlying vulnerabilities, especially in their developing spellcrafts." 

          Suddenly, Turais realised the issue. He leaned over and whispered to Arcturus.

          "Grandfather, unlike the other companies, goblin magics are not involved in manufacturing Nimbus brooms. If Grindok's hesitation is shared amongst all goblins, that means the market is significantly undervaluing Nimbus." Arcturus thumbed through the relevant pages as Turais continued, "Cleansweep's stock price will crater once Quidditch season ends and the sponsorship deals expire. Even if we don't invest in Nimbus, we must divest from Cleansweep."

          After a long moment of consideration, Arcturus said, "Clearly, you've given this considerable thought. But are you willing to put your galleons where your mouth is?"

          "Yes," Turais replied without hesitation.

          Immediately, Arcturus turned to Grindok and said, "Sell all our holdings in Cleansweep and increase our stake in Nimbus."

          "Yes, Lord Black," Grindok muttered.

          At the stunned look on Turais's face, Arcturus said, "One day, you will oversee the entire family estate. May this serve as a test of your judgement. Unless you are having second thoughts?"

          "No. I merely thought you would need more convincing than this," said Turais. "And as you mentioned, all of this will belong to me eventually. I am equally, if not more, determined to see myself be correct."

          Arcturus's lips curled into a rare, approving smile.

          After the meeting concluded, Arcturus handed Turais two dossiers. The first was of a woman in her early forties. Her sharp eyes glinted with intelligence, and her posture was regal and commanding. The second was of a teenage girl with similar features but lacked the austere disposition of the former.

          "I'm sure you've heard that the Hunting Clan has elected a new Chieftain," said Arcturus.

          "Lady Diane Swindon," said Turais. A hint of disgust crossed Arcturus's face as if hearing the name had left a bad taste in his mouth.

          "Indeed, she now commands the largest defensive force across the British Isles. And whilst they've traditionally pledged neutrality on all Wizengamot affairs, I believe they would use their eight votes if given the right incentives. And this —" Arcturus pointed at the second profile. "— is her niece, Imogen Galdorwin. Fifteen years ago, her parents died in a skirmish with poachers. Her aunt, who is childless, took her in and raised her as her own. By all accounts, Miss Galdorwin is groomed to become her successor. They will be arriving in London tomorrow, and I have arranged for the two of you to meet."

          A hard knot formed in Turais's throat.

          "You wish for me to court her."

          "I did not realise you were open to that idea," Arcturus said dryly. "And try as you may, it is unlikely that you will succeed given the… history between our houses. Her aunt will not allow a match for as long as she lives, which is why I was surprised to receive this letter in the first place. Regardless of her intentions, it will do us well for you to get acquainted with Miss Galdorwin. Fortunately, Miss Galdorwin is rather keen on meeting you. It seems that news of your heroics has made its way to Glenfaelad...." 

          Glenfaelad.

          That was the place mentioned in the Fawley diaries.

          "... But harbour no illusions. In less than two years' time, you will become the most eligible bachelor in all of Britain. Girls will be throwing themselves at you and whispering false promises of true love for the slightest chance of becoming the future Lady Black. An arranged marriage is borne out of necessity not only to ensure the family's continued prosperity but also to stave off opportunistic leeches and fortune hunters —" 

          "When is the meeting?" Turais interjected.

          "Tomorrow afternoon."

          "Excellent," said Turais. "I will be ready then."

 

***

 

          The next morning, Turais was escorted by four bodyguards to a restaurant in Optim Alley. The private dining room was a secluded space on the top floor, tucked away from prying eyes. Once seated, Turais noticed that the guards had no intention of leaving, so he shot a Confundus at each of them when their backs were turned. The effect was instantaneous as they looked at each other blankly. 

          "Shouldn't you be guarding the door?" Turais said, prompting the guards to stagger drunkenly out of the room. 

          A few minutes later, the door opened again.

          The first thing Turais noticed about Imogen Galdorwin was her iridescent dress robes that fluttered delicately with every step as if they were entirely composed of ethereal butterflies.

          Imogen curtsied, and her rich, chestnut-brown eyes caught him with a subtle twinkle.

          "Master Turais Black, I presume."

          "You presume correctly, Miss Galdorwin." Turais lifted her gloved hand and kissed it. Then he gestured at their seats, and he asked, "Shall we?" 

          As Imogen sat down, she waved the waiter over and instructed, "Moonflower and chamomile for me. Darjeeling for the gentleman. And we will have the scones and cakes now."

          Once the waiter left with the orders, Turais started, "Miss Galdorwin. I'm —" 

          "It's Imogen," the girl interrupted with a hushed whisper, and her coquettish demeanour disappeared in the blink of an eye. "May I say something first? Whatever you read from my letter was a load of rubbish. I've heard of you and follow your work on the Wolfsbane Potion, but I don't fancy you. I wrote the letter and forged my aunt's signature, so she was forced to bring me along. Sorry for the deception."

          Imogen dipped her head apologetically, and Turais immediately heaved a sigh of relief. "That's great — I mean, no worries." 

          "Are you sure?" Imogen asked, looking uncertain. "Do you need a hug? That's what Southerners do, right?"

          "You don't know half the things my brothers and I get up to." Turais crossed his arms and smirked. "This is tame in comparison."

          "I would love to hear all about it, but I'm in a bit of a hurry," said Imogen as she rummaged through her clutch purse, which elicited a dull metallic clang that sounded suspiciously heavy. "You see, I've never been to Muggle London, and I was meaning to take a look around."

          "You mean now ?" asked Turais.

          Before Imogen could answer, there was a knock on the door. She immediately reached across the table for Turais's hand and let out a high-pitched giggle.

          "You've read The Midnight Princess ?" Imogen said as the waiter walked in. "Oh… To watch Louis slowly fall in love with Charlotte, knowing fully that she was a ghost and they could never be together, is so romantic and utterly tragic. I'm so glad he managed to find the Resurrection Stone and bring her back to life. Don't you think so?"

          At Imogen's prompting glance, Turais quickly eased into an indulgent smile and said, "Of course. I enjoyed her other books as well. Have you read The Warlock of Alnwick Garden ?"

          "Another masterpiece. I cried in the final chapter when Sebastian rejected Countess Beatrice's advances because he realised he had fallen in love with his herbologist."

          After the waiter placed their tea and cake stand on the table, Imogen pressed something into the man's palm and asked sweetly, "Would you be so kind as to ensure we are not disturbed?"

          The man smiled politely and left. Immediately, Imogen pulled out a body-length mirror from her clutch purse and stood it on the floor. She stepped through the silvery surface and emerged with an utterly bizarre outfit that consisted of a neon-green sundress stretched haphazardly over an oversized pink jumper, leopard print leggings, and a pair of cowboy boots with spurs.

          Turais's jaw dropped. "What is that?"

          "My Muggle outfit," replied Imogen. "Is there something wrong with it?"

          "Not if you're auditioning as a circus performer."

          "I knew the colour coordination was off…" Imogen muttered as she pulled out several sticks of gum. "Here. Take one. They're laced with a Daydreaming Draught —"

          She was interrupted by several loud thuds outside. Opening the door, they found all the guards lying on the floor, unconscious and snoring loudly.

          "Did you give them these?" asked Turais, inspecting the gum in their mouths.

          "Yes, but I used gum specifically to induce an incremental release of the Daydreaming Draught," said Imogen. "They should only be distracted, not unconscious!"

          "Ah, I Confunded them when I came in. Reckon there must be an augmentation effect."

          Imogen gave Turais an odd look before clearing her throat.

          "Well, that explains why they ate the gum so easily," she said. "I was fancying myself as a master of persuasion." 

          Imogen reached into her sleeve and pulled out a long baton that reached the length of her arm. Twirling it methodically, a constellation of runes appeared in the air, and the slumbering bodies slowly levitated off the ground. 

         Once the bodies were properly hidden, she turned to Turais and said, "Now, without a Confundus, a gum stick should give you a couple of hours of blissful wool-gathering. But before that, would you mind pointing me in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron?"

          "I'll come with you," said Turais, shrugging on his jacket.

          "That is terribly kind of you, but it won't be necessary —"

          "I know Muggle London very well, and you clearly need a guide," Turais said. "In return, I would like to ask you for a favour… as a guide fee."

          "What sort of favour?"

          "A research project to cure a blood curse. I believe the Hunting Clan has knowledge that could help."

          "I see you're not stopping at the Wolfsbane Potion then," said Imogen. "Very well, let's get moving."

          Instead of strolling through the Leaky Cauldron, Turais took Imogen down a narrow alleyway that led to the backroom of a tiny Muggle clothing store. Searching through the racks of second-hand clothes, he quickly picked out several pieces and steered Imogen into the changing room. 

          Tugging awkwardly at the fringe of her suede mini-skirt, Imogen asked, "How do I look?"

          Turais gave a glance before placing a wad of notes at the till. 

          "Muggle enough."

          "You're supposed to compliment the lady on a first date, you know," Imogen said as they re-emerged under the London skies. "Especially when you picked out her dress."

          "And you're the one who decided this was not a date," Turais replied easily. "So, what do you want to do?" 

          "I want to ride the Underground," said Imogen excitedly.

          Turais managed to stop her from walking in front of a double-decker. Pointing at the traffic light, he said, "Red means stop. Green means walk. And after that?"

          "I haven't thought that far ahead," she admitted.

          "Not much of a planner, are you?" Turais said dryly.

          "That's why I hired you," she said with a grin. "Go on. Lead the way." 

          Consciously avoiding any areas frequented by wizardkind, Turais took Imogen on a trip across the city and watched as she marvelled at the bustling city life. Ending the tour at a public square, Turais suddenly spotted a green van with a simple sign that proudly announced its offerings: "Traditional Fish & Chips - Freshly Hand Battered!"

          "Have you ever had fish and chips before?"

          "Fish and what?" Imogen asked.

          "Wait here. I'll buy us some," Turais said before strolling up to the small serving hatch. 

          Behind the counter, two men standing next to the fryers as they sizzled and crisped up the golden chips to perfection. At the chime of the bell, one of them leaned over the counter and asked, "What can I get for you, lad?"

          "Two portions of fish and chips," said Turais, consulting the menu. "You don't have halibut, do you?"

          "Halibut?" he repeated as the other chef laughed. "Oi, Dave. Do we have truffle oil and caviar to serve with the mushy peas for Mr Posh?"

          Turais scratched his head sheepishly.          

          "Alright, alright. Give me two haddocks."

          When Turais reached up to get the newspaper-wrapped parcels, the man leaned in and whispered, "She's been looking this way the entire time." 

          Turais turned around and saw Imogen staring intently into a display case filled with television screens.

          "Oh, no, we're not —"

          But then the man shouted, "Enjoy!" and shooed him away.

          When Turais returned, Imogen commented, "Smells good. But is this truly what Muggles eat?"

          "Of course. Have I led you astray yet?"

          They found a bench nearby and enjoyed their food in companionable silence. Turais felt Imogen's gaze glancing towards him from time to time, and when he finally looked back questioningly, Imogen stammered hastily, "So… are you prepared for your O.W.L.s?" 

          Turais nodded.

          "I'm looking forward to it because the whinging and moaning around me will finally stop."

          "Well, I sat mine last year and found it utterly terrifying."  

          "I thought the Cairngorms operated independently from the British Ministry?"

          "We do, but attitudes are slowly changing. While many families favour isolationism, some believe closer ties with the Ministry are the way forward. My aunt's views fall somewhere in the middle. She insisted I be homeschooled but encouraged me to sit my O.W.L.s.," replied Imogen. "Have you met Eleanor Dorrance? She's a sixth-year student in Ravenclaw who lives across the river from me. Her family is one of several that sends their children to Hogwarts for education." 

           "We know of one another," Turais said carefully. "But it's a rather large school, and we haven't had the chance to speak properly."

          "I'm sure you'll have a chance to do so this summer," Imogen said. "I heard from my aunt that you'll be at the Litha festival. It'll be an amazing experience."

           "What happens then? I've not read much on it," said Turais.

           "Well, the summer solstice is the most important day in our culture. During the day, there are a series of grand celebrations, and at nightfall, those who turned seventeen in the previous year will participate in a coming-of-age ceremony. Every child receives a crystal at birth, which they can use to transform – or shift – into any creature they desire. The ceremony is when they will prove themselves worthy by shifting into their primary creature form for the first time." Imogen pulled out a seemingly plain, silver chain. "My crystal is mounted on a necklace. Unfortunately, you won't be able to see it, as only the stone-wielder can see their own crystal."

          Turais recalled the shining piece of moonstone dangling from Eleanor's necklace. 

          "What does it mean if someone else sees your stone?" 

          "Well, that would mean that I am a stone-keeper instead of a stone-wielder. While a stone-wielder can harness the stone's transformative powers, a stone-keeper is destined to carry and protect it until its true owner is revealed," Imogen replied. "Do you, by any chance, see my stone?" 

          Turais shook his head.

          "You worried me for a moment there," she said, relief clearly written on her face. "Eleanor and I are the initiates this year, and I was rather looking forward to the occasion." 

          A sense of dread settled in Turais's stomach as he tried to convince himself that what he saw was a mere trick of the light. However, Imogen interrupted his turbulent thoughts when she suddenly gasped, "Cailleach have mercy!"

          She thrust a stack of parchment into Turais's hands. There was a note attached to the first page.

Don't forget to give him this! And tell him to message me! – Eoghan

          Imogen tore it away hastily and asked, "Have you heard of the Order of Mona?"

          "The band of healers who provide care for lycanthropic patients?" 

          Imogen nodded and said, "A friend of mine is a healer in the Order. And since your discovery of the Wolfsbane Potion, he's been attempting to integrate it into existing treatments in hopes of finding a way to prevent newly infected patients from becoming lycanthropes. These are some of his clinical findings." 

          Turais flipped through the pages. 

          "It seems that the Wolfsbane Potion can suppress the spread of the pathogens to the magical core…" he gasped excitedly. However, creases slowly formed on his forehead. "... But he wants to use it in conjugation with a magic suppression ritual? Wouldn't that interfere with the potion's efficacy?"

          Turais looked up at Imogen, who raised her hands in defeat. "I'm only the messenger."

          "Is it possible to meet with him?" Turais asked immediately. "These discussions are best had in person."

          Imogen hesitated.

          "As you may know, the land border between us and Wizarding Britain is closely monitored. It might be easiest to wait until Litha." Turais's face fell, and Imogen added quickly, "I do know of a way, but the journey is a bit… treacherous ."

          "Where do I need to go?" Turais asked, pulling out a quill. 

          Imogen gave him another odd look before saying, "Upon the next new moon, head north to Korrow Ruins. I will wait for you there."

          "Thank you," said Turais gratefully. "Which reminds me, I also have something to give you." 

          He put the parchments aside and pulled out his and Alex's notes.

          "Oh, right. The favour?" said Imogen.

          "Yes." Turais paused. "What I am about to say is a matter of grave importance. I would appreciate your prudence and confidentiality."

          Imogen nodded solemnly. 

          "Your secret is safe with me. Whatever it is."

          "A close friend of mine is afflicted with a terrible blood curse. And while we were searching for the cure in the family library, we found something interesting." Turais handed over the notes, and Imogen's breath hitched. "Two of the diaries mentioned a planned visit to Glenfaelad. It is imperative that we know what happened to them in order to consider our next steps. And for that, we will need your help."

          "Of course," Imogen said at once. "Glenfaelad is the only entry point to Cairngorms. I can check the records for any Fawley visitors."

          "Thank you," Turais said, his voice wavering slightly. 

          "Uh… do you need a hug?"

          Turais couldn't help but chuckle.

Chapter 80: A Dire Situation

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER EIGHTY

A DIRE SITUATION


 

March 9, 1974 (Saturday)

Puddlemere United 390 - 230 Putney Aerobatic

 

Patrick Gerard's deflected goal and Hoshour's catch sees Puddlemere United claim a derby day victory at home. This means the Mers will enter the Split atop the table for a fourth consecutive season while condemning the Pixies to a six-way battle against relegation.

While the Mers held the home advantage, the Pixies set the initial pace for the game.

A deluge of well-placed strikes from the Putney Beaters saw much of the Mers' possession held across the backline, with progression through the midfield stalled.

This meant that chances for Patrick Gerard were drastically limited, and the star chaser often found himself isolated up front.

The Mers' shooting was also particularly damaging, with only two out of nine shots on target in the first twenty minutes. During the same period, the Pixies converted all twelve of their shots and led by eight goals entering the half-hour mark.

Amidst Putney's dominance, Puddlemere United did have a crucial ten-minute spell after a tactical substitution saw Beatrice Weald return to the pitch — her first since the arm injury last December.

Her impact on the match was felt instantaneously. Simon Quigley scored five goals within two minutes due to a comedic and bizarre series of errors from the opposing Keeper. Then Patrick Gerard secured his century against a now out-of-sorts Putney defence when a deflected shot flew into the right hoop and saw the home team ahead in the match for the first time.

The crucial goal proved the difference as Margaret Hoshour caught the snitch ten seconds later and sent the 7,457 Puddlemere fans into delirium.

The team claimed a much-deserved three points and rose to the top of the league table. Meanwhile, their rivals left Down Lane Bowl empty-handed — one league point shy of sixth place Holyhead Harpies.

With the conclusion of the first phase, the league is now split into two sections. The top six teams will enter the Champion Conference and vie for the League Cup and two qualification berths in the European League; the bottom six teams will enter the Plate Conference and fight to avoid relegation.

 

Note: In accordance with the adopted rule change by the Quidditch Association, league points in the 1973/1974 Premier League season are awarded as follows: 1 point for the team with higher chaser points, 1 point for a successful snitch catch, and 1 point for the team with higher total match points and overall win.

 

***

 

          "I can't find my Hebridean Black chocolate frog card!" shouted Sirius as Turais entered an overturned room.

          It was the day of their return to Hogwarts, and packing once again proved to be a harried affair for the middle child. Eyeing the trail of clothes that led to a messy pile of books and accessories, Turais shook his head and sighed.

          "Never mind, I found it!" Sirius cried, waving the card in the air. "Now, I need my Standard Book of Spells — "

          "Can you shut up?!" Regulus shouted from the other room.

          "I can ! But I won't —"

          A door slammed shut. 

          "SIRIUS!" Orion bellowed from downstairs.

          "THAT WASN'T ME!" shouted Sirius.

          After several minutes of fruitless searching, Sirius asked Turais to Summon the book for him. There was the sound of shattering pottery as it shot through the door and into Turais's hands.

          "SIRIUS!" 

          "STILL NOT ME!" shouted Sirius. At Turais's unimpressed glare, Sirius managed to look sheepish. "Well, technically —"  

          "Are you finished packing yet?" asked Orion as footsteps echoed up the staircase.

          Sirius froze. He turned towards Turais with a silent, doe-eyed plea. 

          Pinching his brows, Turais asked, "Do you need help —?" 

          "Yes, please!"

          Turais waved his wand and sent Sirius's items flying into the open trunk. The flurry of movement stopped just before Orion appeared through the doorway. He squinted at the two boys suspiciously before walking towards Regulus's room.

          " Phew, that was close," Sirius gasped. Looking at the jumble in his trunk, he muttered. "Well, I've seen a tidier Packing Charm —"

          Turais made a threatening gesture, and Sirius wisely stopped talking.

 

***

 

          Before they crossed through the King's Cross barrier, Turais took a quick detour to the newsstand to buy snacks. Sirius followed behind him and peered at the newspapers. 

          "Oh, A-B-B-A won Eurovision." 

          "It's pronounced ABBA, and how do you know them?" asked Turais.

          "I don't. The name seemed curious, that's all," replied Sirius with a shrug.

           Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was jam-packed with people in a way that couldn't be explained by the crowd of students returning to Hogwarts. Even after several minutes of waiting, it seemed that no one could move an inch closer to the train.

          "A group of activists have attached themselves to the side of the train with Sticking Charms," an accompanying Auror reported after scouting around the crowd.

          "What for?" asked Turais.

          The Auror hesitated. "They are members of the Wizengamot Abolition Movement —"

          A woman nearby suddenly turned around and hurled herself towards Turais. The Aurors promptly disarmed her, but a stack of pamphlets and Howlers spilt from her dropped purse.

          Immediately, a cacophony of roars erupted. "SHAME! SHAME! SHAME —"

          " SILENCIO! " Orion shouted as the woman was dragged away, kicking and screaming. 

          "ABOLISH FAMILY SEATS! DEATH TO THE WIZENGAMOT!" 

          The crowd finally started to move, and Turais picked up a fallen pamphlet:

TIME IS UP FOR THE WIZENGAMOT

Tacenda Guise

The Wizengamot is a corrupt and nepotistic plutocracy masquerading as a democracy. Its members, most of whom are unelected and unaccountable, wield influence without merit or mandate. The idea that individuals should inherit positions of authority simply by virtue of birth is an affront to the principles of equality. Calls for reforms are futile, as an unelected chamber of privileged elites cannot be relied upon to create a representative and accountable government. We must abolish the Wizengamot and replace it with a system where power is distributed where it belongs – THE PEOPLE!

          " Evanesco, " Orion said, and the pamphlet disappeared between Turais's fingers. "Board the train. Now, quickly."

          After a lengthy delay, the remaining Aurors removed the other protestors from the platform, and the Hogwarts Express finally started to pull out of the station. Aboard the train, Jonty pulled Turais aside.

          "Those people have gone mad!" Jonty exclaimed. "Don't they have better things to do than blocking a train?"

          "They're frustrated," replied Turais.

          "Aren't we all? Anyhow, I heard about Imogen Galdorwin," Jonty whispered, changing the subject. Turais nodded, and the other boy let out a heavy sigh. "So it begins… How did you find her?" 

          "Decent, I suppose."

          "It will likely amount to nothing if it's any consolation. Lady Swindon held a meeting with several Lords in Whitehall, and my father mentioned that the tension between her and Lord Black was alive and well…. What do you know of that summer ?"

          For centuries, the Black family had attended the summer Hunt in the Cairngorms. However, that tradition abruptly stopped twenty years ago, causing much intrigue and speculation.

          "Little more than you," said Turais, shaking his head.  "My grandfather has not told me anything."

          "But whatever it was ensured your family's absence from Glenfaelad ever since."

          "Until now."

          Suddenly, there were sounds of an altercation from the neighbouring car. Through the window, they saw Rookwood crawling away from a group of students. His lips were split and his face was bruised. Maintaining a defiant sneer, he shouted, "How dare you point that wand at me, filthy mud —"

          Instantly, Rookwood's lips were sealed shut. Pierricoeur approached the whimpering boy and said, "It's a pity you didn't learn anything during your suspension, Rookwood. Now how about a taste of your own Potion?"

          "That's enough," Turais announced as he disarmed Pierricoeur and released Rookwood from the spell. "Pierricoeur, you are a Perfect. You should know better than this."

          Pierricoeur clenched his jaw and growled, "He's a Death Eater-wannabe who would happily do the same if the positions were reversed. You know what he's like." 

          "Then don't stoop to his level."

          "Why are you defending him, Black? We're on your side!" Pierricoeur asked indignantly, jabbing a finger at Rookwood. "He won't thank you for this."

          Turais ignored them and escorted Rookwood to his compartment. Sliding the door closed, he held out a vial of Murtlap Essence. The younger boy slapped it out of his hand, and the potion spilt across the floor.

          "I don't need your pity, Black!" Rookwood snarled.

          Turais vanished the broken glass and sighed, "Suit yourself —"

          "You helped me for a reason! You had your photo-op, but you must want something else from me, don't you?! Information? Gold? A favour? Tell me!"

          "I don't want anything from you, but if you are willing to share, I would like an honest account of what you've done and why you've done it," said Turais. The younger boy stared incredulously. "However, you are clearly not prepared to do so at this moment."

          "That can't be it." Rookwood shook his head in denial. "Quit pretending!"

          "I did it because it's the right thing to do," Turais simply said.

          "No." Rookwood stumbled to his feet and whispered with a quiver in his voice, "You should've listened to Pierricoeur. I won't thank you for this. I don't owe you anything."

          He wrenched open the door and left the compartment.

 

***

 

           That evening at dinner, the students were quick to voice their grievances against the new security checks. However, the Headmaster stepped up to the lectern, and the entire hall quieted immediately.

           "Welcome back, students!" said Dumbledore, acknowledging the pair of Aurors that entered with a nod. "As you have undoubtedly noticed, our school is presently hosting several Aurors. They will be stationed at various locations throughout the castle, Hogsmeade, and the nearby hamlets to bolster our school's security. Please do not hesitate to contact them if you have any concerns…." 

           "Aurors in Hogwarts? What's next, bloody Dementors?" Flint hissed as a smattering of dissent erupted around the hall. "Are we supposed to go about our day with them breathing down our necks?" 

           "Don't be obvious when you're breaking a rule, then," Jonty replied with a shrug.

            After their meal, Turais spotted Alastor Moody wading through the crowd towards him.

          "Black. Fawley. I'm to deliver you to Professor Mather," announced Moody. "In trouble again, are we?" 

          "Not as much as the Lestranges, I hope," replied Turais.

          "Rabastan has been transferred to Azkaban, and we're working hard on the other two to ensure they have a nice little family reunion. Now, I heard about your Defence Club and the incident on the train. Do you aspire to become an Auror?" said Moody. Aware of his company, Turais replied with a noncommittal shrug. "We need people like you, Black."

          "I'm flattered, Auror Moody, but it's much too soon for this discussion," said Turais before moving the conversation onto more trivial matters. Arriving at the door to Mather's office, Moody secured an invitation to join one of his Defence Club meetings before he left. 

          Turais burst into the room, and Alex followed cautiously behind him.

          "Do you have any news?" asked Turais.

          "You should sit down for this," Mather said, handing them both large mugs of tea. With a tired sigh, he began, "With much difficulty, I managed to find the location provided by Skender. The jungle had long reclaimed the village — or whatever remained of it. Seeking out the neighbouring tribes, I discovered that the locals had viewed the maledicti as an abomination to their gods. Several years after Skender left the island, they banded together to purge the village, killing all of its inhabitants and any traces of their existence."

           "So it was a dead end?" asked Alex quietly.

           "I'm afraid so," Mather responded sympathetically.

           Noticing Alex's downcast eyes and blank expression, Turais thanked the professor and quickly excused themselves.

          "It was all for naught," Alex muttered bitterly.

          "It was a long shot anyway," Turais said with a false cheery voice. 

          Alex paused in his steps and turned towards Turais.

          "I don't think we should waste more time searching for the countercurse." 

          "I will be meeting with Imogen tonight. Perhaps we will have some good news on that front." Alex wanted to argue, so Turais quickly added, "Let's hear from her first. We can consider our next steps then, alright?"

          Alex pressed his lips tightly, but after a long while, he nodded.

 

***

 

          Just before curfew, Turais slipped out of the common room. Under the moonless skies, Turais flew off on his Nimbus over the school wall and along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The rugged mountains rose before him, and he soon landed by the crumbled walls of a ruined castle. Venturing into the courtyard of faceless stone statues, he found a girl clad wholly in white.

          "Turais," Imogen greeted excitedly. "How have you been?"

          "I've been well," Turais replied. "Did you manage to search the visitor log?"

          Imogen's face fell a little as she nodded.

          "I did. Ardsheal House is the only public entry point into the Cairngorms, and all visitors are automatically registered in the logbook. I've searched through the registry, but no one from the Fawley family has visited in the last century."

          "Is it possible that someone altered the records?" Turais asked with a frown.

          "Only the chieftain has the ability to do so, and MacAndruaidh was not one who would do an outsider such a favour."

          Suppressing his disappointment, Turais thanked Imogen for her help and asked, "So, where are we meeting your friend?"

          "At the Eyrie. You will be needing this."

          Imogen took a step towards him, then another, until the tips of their boots barely touched. She stood on her toes and reached her hands towards his head, and Turais's breath hitched as she threw the cool, metal chain of her pendant around his neck.

          "Do you see it?" she asked, sounding slightly breathless.

          Turais stared at Imogen for a long moment before realising a writhing string of white light was now visible on the eastern face of the mountain.

           "Oh, yes," Turais managed to say. "We can ride on my broom."

           "Any form of magical travel is impossible due to the anti-poaching wards along the border," Imogen said. "We will have to climb with our own strength."

          After hiding his broom in a large shrub, they followed a well-trodden footpath to a gently sloping plateau. Then, Imogen guided Turais off the trail until they reached a blank stretch of wall. She tapped her staff against it to reveal a dark tunnel. With a wave of her hand, a flickering blue flame erupted from the tip of her staff.

          "You mentioned Ardsheal House is the only public entry," said Turais as they ventured into the near-darkness. "Could they have entered by any other means, such as this secret path?"

          "These paths can only be navigated by those who wield a stone," said Imogen. "Even if they managed to convince one of our members, the knowledge they sought would be contained in the libraries at Ardsheal House. It is unlikely that they would have completely evaded our detection." 

         Emerging on the other side of the mountain, they were faced with a long set of stairs that was cut into the cliff face with the narrowest section at a mere two feet in width. To their left was a trail of glowing moonstones that marked the edge, which dropped precipitously to the dark valley below.

          "I forgot to mention that I'm deathly afraid of heights," Turais deadpanned.

          Imogen chuckled in response. "I did warn you." 

         She extended her hand to Turais, and they began the perilous climb, which was made more difficult by the chain of her pendant connecting them. The steps were unevenly spaced, and some crumbled beneath their feet. Turais's shoulder was pressed firmly into the rough, granite wall as the cold wind whipped past with ferocity. Imogen ascended with practised ease, her firm hand guiding him steadily forward. They climbed over the saddle of the mountain and soon came upon a white tower that overlooked the steep banks of a treacherous river.

          They boarded a wooden, lift-like contraption and ascended to the tower's top. Imogen reached out slowly so Turais could duck his head under the loop of her necklace. As he did so, the stone became invisible again, and she tucked it back under her robes.

          The walls of the circular room were lined with terrariums, each housing rare, exotic plants under exacting conditions. In the centre was a long granite table covered with a mountain of scrolls. 

          "I'll be with you in a moment!" a man shouted from behind a bookshelf.

          "He'll take a while," Imogen said, waving Turais onto the balcony. Compared to the more densely-populated Hogsmeade Valley, the Glenfaelad Valley was without a single dot of light or flame. "Care for some mallowsweet tea? It's my favourite."

          She summoned over a cup, and Turais took a sip, savouring the sharp taste of citrus and pine. "I thought you enjoyed moonflower and chamomile." 

          "I was trying not to seem like a country bumpkin," said Imogen. "Is it not the most fashionable choice of tea?" 

          Turais snorted. "Whichever book you're getting your information from, I'd suggest you burn it —"

          Imogen punched Turais in the shoulder, causing him to spill tea over the front of his robes.  

          "Oh, please excuse me!" She gasped, immediately waving her staff to clear the stain.

          "Am I interrupting something?" 

          A man in his late thirties limped towards them, his left leg leaning heavily against his staff.

          "Of course not," Imogen said, flustered. "This is my friend and mentor, Eoghan Biggerstaff. Eoghan, this is Turais Black."

          "It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Turais Black," Eoghan said, shaking Turais's hand. Then, he glanced at the girl with a hint of mirth. "Imogen has been very complimentary about you."

          "Then she must've mistaken me for someone else," Turais quipped as he noted the three deep, parallel scars on the back of Eoghan's hand that extended up to his jaw.

          "Well, thank you for making the difficult journey here on my behalf. Stairs have been a particularly bitter foe for many years. Now, Imogen tells me there is something you wish to discuss?"

          "I'll leave you boys to it then," Imogen said, stepping aside. "If you need me, I'll be in the garden."

          "Imogen is excellent with herbs and Healing," Eoghan commented as she disappeared down the tower. "Yet she has shown no interest in the field of Potions whatsoever."

          "She strikes me as a person who would rather spend her time outside than being sat behind a desk."

          "How about you?" Eoghan asked.

          "I'd like to think I maintain a healthy balance of both," Turais said. "Now, let's discuss your proposed post-bite prophylaxis. Before I begin, I was wondering whether you’ve contacted Damocles Belby for his opinion?"

           A dark shadow crossed Eoghan's face. "I have. However, Belby and I do not see eye to eye on our approaches to healing. The narrow-minded fool is too caught up in his books and procedures. He refuses to see ritualistic healing as anything more than quackery and wishful thinking!"

          "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. While I’m unfamiliar with ritualistic healing, I'm interested in learning more about the effects you've observed," Turais said. Eoghan nodded curtly. "You've mentioned that the usage of powdered silver and dittany is contraindicated. How so?"

          "The pathogenesis of lycanthropy is well-understood. The pathogens enter the body via the bite wound and circulate through the bloodstream. Upon reaching the heart, it then invades the magical core. No potions, spells, or rituals can reverse the infection after it takes root. By sealing the wound with powdered silver and dittany, we are trapping the pathogens within the body and condemning the patient to lycanthropy. To truly cure lycanthropy, we must keep the wound open to allow the possibility of reversing the infection."

          "But then you risk the patient bleeding to death."

          "They will be provided a constant supply of blood-replenishing potions."

          "You mentioned these procedures would be performed while the patient's magic is suppressed. However, I'm unconvinced that a magic suppression ritual has a place in the treatment —"

          "You sound just like Belby!" huffed Eoghan.

          "No, I am simply engaging with the merits of your treatment," Turais countered. "With reduced magic, not only would the potion's efficacy decrease, the patient would also have lowered tolerance to wolfsbane and the Blood-Boiling Curse. That is counterproductive to what you wish to achieve."

          "Magic provides directionality to the pathogens. It is how they seek out the magical core. Suppressing the patient's magic enables us to sequester the pathogens in the bloodstream and provides us time to remove them from the body."

          "Didn't you demonstrate that the Wolfsbane Potion can delay the onset of the first transformation?"

          "But the administration of the Potion alone is insufficient to halt the spread."

          "It could be a matter of finding the correct dosage," Turais said thoughtfully. "But suppressing the patient's magic as they fight off the infection is akin to tying their hands behind their back in a duel. You are stripping them of their only chance of recovery."

           "I am convinced we can strike a balance between the two sides —" 

          "But they will die if you get it wrong!" 

          "My patients and I know that very well," Eoghan said quietly. "Why do they still agree to partake in these remedial trials? Because most would rather die as a human than live to become a werewolf." 

          An uneasy silence befell them as the wooden cogs behind them started turning.

          "Eoghan, I picked some nettle from your garden," Imogen said as she entered with two jars of leaves in her arms.

          "Stealing from my garden again?" Eoghan asked. "When will you learn to grow your herbs?"

          "But yours is of the best quality," Imogen said sweetly. "This jar is yours. I'll put it away for you."

          When Imogen walked away, Turais conceded, "If you have their informed consent, it is their prerogative."

          "I will admit that this mode of treatment is not ideal. But until we can find a way to weaken the pathogen itself, we can only rely on external factors to halt the disease progression, which remains the only available measurement of success," said Eoghan.

          "Please keep me informed on any future breakthroughs."

          "Of course," Eoghan said. "But you will need to pay —" 

          "Eoghan, I'm warning you," Imogen shouted from the other room.

          "— by having a drink with me," Eoghan finished with a sly grin. 

          "Please ignore him," Imogen said when she returned. "He always tries to force people to drink with him." 

          "I don't mind," said Turais. "Besides, I had brought you some snacks, which would be perfect to share over some drinks."

          He laid out several packets of Walkers crisps on the table.

          "Prawn cocktail? Vinegar and salt?" Imogen asked.

          "They’re flavoured crisps," explained Turais. "You enjoyed the chips last time, so I thought you'd like to try these as well."

          Imogen's cheeks pinked. "You didn't have to…."

          "That's so thoughtful of you," said Eoghan. "But I wasn't aware of a chip shop in Diagon Alley."

          "Oh, it wasn't —"

          "It wasn't a regular menu item," Imogen interjected quickly. "It was seasonal, and they have removed it since. Haven't they, Turais?" 

          Turais glanced between the pair. "Oh, uh… right."

          "Is that so?" Eoghan said with a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. "Well, Imogen, it's all thanks to Turais that you've managed to try such a variety of Muggle delicacies —"

          "It's getting late. We ought to leave now," Imogen said, hurrying Turais out of the room. 

          "You're always welcome to visit!" Eoghan shouted before the door slammed shut behind them.

          Imogen was unusually quiet until they climbed over the mountain pass. As they descended into the Hogsmeade valley again, she said, "Please don't mind Eoghan. He becomes a blathering fool when he's not busy offending someone."

          "I found him quite insightful," said Turais, to which Imogen grumbled under her breath.

          "Well, I've always found him to be a —"

          Imogen suddenly froze and silently raised her staff defensively. 

           A massive creature leapt out from the shadows. It was a wolf with fur as white as snow and the size of a grown bear.

          Turais aimed a spell at the beast, but Imogen pushed his arm upwards at the last moment, causing the Stunning spell to sail harmlessly overhead.

          "Its hide is spell-resistant. All you'll do is agitate it," she whispered as four more wolves leapt into view. Imogen twirled her staff and started chanting in an unfamiliar tongue, " Madaidhean-allaidh eireachdail, na bi luath gu fearg. Chan eil sinn a' ciallachadh cron sam bith dhut. (Magnificent wolves, do not be quick to anger. We mean you no harm.)"

          A wave of calmness radiated throughout the pack and they stopped baring their fangs. However, they continued to advance, and Turais and Imogen were forced to the edge of a cascading waterfall filled with floating log pieces.

          " Tha sinn nar luchd-siubhail sgìth. Dean tròcair oirnn, agus deònaich dhuinn slighe shàbhailte, (We are weary travellers. Have mercy on us, and grant us a safe passage.)" Imogen whispered.

          Finally, the wolves halted in their strides. 

          Just as Turais was about to let out a sigh of relief, he heard a loud splash. From the corner of his eye, a massive, log-shaped creature burst out of the water towards Imogen.

          Turais pulled her away from the snapping jaws of a giant dugbog and sent forth a powerful Depulso . The dugbog crashed into the water when he suddenly felt a horrible pain like several barbed lashes erupt across his back. He collapsed onto the ground, his body alternating between feeling like it was being plunged into molten lava or a frozen lake.

         Faintly, he heard Imogen shout, followed by a chorus of wounded howls. Then, he felt a pair of hands cupping his face.

          "How bad is it?" Turais said through chattering teeth. 

          "I've seen worse," Imogen replied before letting out a high-pitched whistle. Turais attempted to sit up, but the movement caused such intense pain that his vision went black. "Stop moving. I'll get you somewhere safe." 

          Turais felt himself being hoisted onto the back of a large, feathered creature. There was a vague sensation of cool, crisp air whipping around him for several minutes before he was placed on a hard, uneven surface.

          "I'll vanish your clothes now. They're ruined anyway." Imogen's voice sounded distant. " Cuirim an seun air do chom, an t-eolas a rinn Cailleach; Chuir i cnamh ri cnamh, chuir i feoil ri feoil, chuir i feithe ri feithe, chuir i cuisle ri cuisle; Mar a leighis ise sin, gun leighis mise seo. "

          (I will put the charm on your body, the knowledge made by Cailleach; She put bone to bone, She put flesh to flesh, She put muscle to muscle, She put vein to vein; How she healed that, may I heal this.)

          The pain and heat of inflamed skin slowly ebbed away. Turais opened his eyes and found himself hovering several inches above a slab of granite inside a treehouse. The entire space was awash with a dazzling myriad of colours as a constellation of crystals rotated around him like moons to a planet. Beside him, Imogen's brows were knitted in concentration as she continued to wave her glowing staff over his body. Finally, she lowered him onto his side and pulled out two large jars of leeches from her bag.

          "I will be letting your blood out now," she said before covering his back with a pulsating, black carpet of leeches. She then handed him several vials. "These are Blood-replenishing Potions. Take one every two minutes or when you start feeling faint."

          Turais nodded as Imogen continued to replace the blood-filled leeches with new ones. After what seemed like hours, she announced the procedure was completed.

          "I will be applying a paste for the wound now," Imogen said. "The skin will heal in an hour — no scarring — but the muscles will take longer to mend. Avoid strenuous exercise or sudden movements for at least two weeks, or the wounds will reopen."  

          Noting the exhaustion in her eyes, Turais said, "I feel better now. I can do this by myself —" 

          "Don't be silly." 

          "I insist —"

          Imogen set the vial on the table and crossed her arms. 

          "Fine, I'll watch you do it then."

          Ladened with pain, Turais barely managed to levitate the vial with his wand when Imogen snatched it mid-air.

          "You're exasperating, you know," Imogen said as she angled his back towards her. This time, he did not resist. "This will sting."  

          A sharp, eye-watering pain shot up his spine. Turais clenched his jaw until the pain faded away and was replaced by a soothing coolness.

          After Imogen finished applying the ointment, she said quietly, "Thank you for saving me from the dugbog." 

          "You were preoccupied with fending off those… what were they?"

          "Direwolves." 

          "I thought they went extinct," gasped Turais.

          Imogen shook her head.

          "We have three packs in the Cairngorms, but they are not public knowledge in order to protect them from poachers. I'm sorry. I should have recognised the dugbogs were a potential threat. I overestimated my abilities."

          Turais smiled at her. "You healed me. Consider us even."

          "Not exactly," she said, unscrewing the vial for him to take a sniff. Hidden beneath the thistle, elecampane, and willow was the unmistakable scent of wolfsbane. "Only a few years ago, a direwolf wound could very well prove fatal, but your invention enabled us to develop an effective cure."

          Rendered speechless, Turais dipped his head and saw a thin mat of black hair forming over his body, steadily growing coarser. 

          "That’s a side effect of a direwolf bite," Imogen sniffed, wiping her eyes free of tears.

          Caught between shock and embarrassment, Turais asked, "You don't happen to have a grooming kit lying around, do you?"

          Imogen reached atop the drawer and handed Turais a box.

          "There is a spare set of robes in the second drawer. I’ll wait outside." 

          Once she disappeared down the ladder, Turais unwrapped the box. The scissors and razors immediately sprung out of the box and started snipping in a frenzy. When he looked like a regular schoolboy once more, Turais changed into the spare robes and climbed down.

          At the base of the tree, he saw a name etched faintly into the trunk.

          Finlay Galdorwin's Safehouse.

          Imogen was standing inside a gently swirling vortex of petals under the starry skies. 

          "What were you doing?" Turais asked curiously as the petals dispersed with the wind.

          "Thanking the forest and the gods for their aid," she said.

          "I would like to pay my respects as well. Can you show me how?"

          Imogen's eyes softened.

          "Of course. Close your eyes and feel the energy around you. Then simply speak your thoughts unto it."

          Turais immersed himself in the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of blackbirds. Whispering his thanks, a light breeze caressed his cheeks and brought forth the sweet scents of primroses and bluebells as if the forest was expressing its gratitude.

          As Turais reopened his eyes, Imogen let out a loud whistle. Moments later, a brown, winged stallion landed next to Turais and nuzzled him gently.

          "Cedalion is wondering if you're alright," Imogen supplied.

          "I'm fine," Turais said, running his hand over the soft coat of fur. "So, you're the one who flew me here. Thank you."

          The stallion responded with a snort before trotting over to Imogen.

          "Have you ridden a flying horse before?" she asked, mounting with one graceful hop and helping Turais behind her.

          "Sure," Turais said with a shrug. "Not one hour ago."

          "I meant while conscious. "

          "Do thestrals or hippogriffs count?"

          "I wasn't aware they taught that at Hogwarts."

          "Well, not exactly. It's part of my… extracurricular activities ." 

          Turais received another odd stare that Imogen often gave.

          "Well, riding an aethonan is much easier compared, and Cedalion is a proper gentleman. Put your arms around my waist, and hold on —" 

          Imogen's body tensed, and Turais flustered. 

          "Sorry!"

          "No! No," Imogen said immediately, "You… you surprised me, that's all —"

         She snapped the reins hastily, and Cedalion took off with a strong kick. The next moment, they were soaring through the air as the treehouse disappeared into the large swath of darkness.

          "About the grooming kit…" Turais started awkwardly. "I didn't realise it was your father's."

          "Don't worry about it. He originally built the treehouse as a refuge for anyone who got into a spot of trouble. He would've been glad to know it helped someone," Imogen said. "But why don't you use grooming charms? Unlike a staff, I'd imagine a wand is quite suitable for the task."

          "I prefer not to have a wand pointed at my face for any reason," said Turais. "And it's not only a matter of safety, but hygiene. How often do you think I polish my wand?"

          Imogen looked affronted. "It is not proper to ask a lady such questions…."

          Turais's eyes widened in horror.

          "T… That's not what I meant —" 

          Her face split into a wide grin, and Turais felt his cheeks flare up.

          "Your expression was priceless —" 

          A roar interrupted them. On the ground below, several dugbogs were chasing after an escaping deer. 

          "Do dugbogs normally behave this violently?" asked Turais.

          "Many beasts have been more aggressive as of late," Imogen replied with a frown. "And direwolves are not known to venture this far south. I suspect this is the work of poachers, but I have yet to find proof of their existence."

          "Poachers?"

          "Yes, but it is a Cairngorms matter and not something you should concern yourself with."

          Dismounting at the mouth of the tunnel, they walked through the near-darkness and returned to Hogsmeade Valley. The castle and neighbouring hamlets looked like flickering candle lights floating in a sea of darkness.

          As Turais took in the spectacular view, he came to a sudden realisation.  

          This plateau was where Voldemort's forces gathered when he launched his attack against Hogwarts. 

          "Suppose the British Ministry were to fall in a coup tomorrow, and an army attacked Hogwarts from this location. How would the Chieftain react?" Turais asked.

          Imogen furrowed her brows. "You don't mean to suggest that… Voldemort and his Death Eaters are capable of overthrowing your Ministry."

          "Humour me." 

          "Well, while the Cairngorms have a long-standing policy of isolationism, Hogwarts is a school where children reside and is adjacent to our border," Imogen said. "I am certain that my aunt, or any future Chieftain, would come to your aid if only to treat it as a matter of self-defence."

          "And under what circumstances would you not respond?"

          Imogen thought for a long while before answering, "I can't fathom such a scenario unless we were physically unable to do so… But these thoughts lead to very dark places. Why do you ask?"

          "Morbid curiosity, I suppose," Turais replied with an easy smile. Nonetheless, his mind lingered on why the Hunting families — the largest defensive force across the Isles — were not involved in a battle of that magnitude occurring at their doorsteps.

 

***

 

           Was a catastrophe about to befall the Cairngorms?

          Turais turned that thought over as he entered the dormitory to find his roommates huddled around Jonty's bed. 

          Recognising the book in Jonty's hands, Turais asked, "What are you doing with my book?" 

          "It's a Hornsby . What do you think we're doing?" Flint shot back.

          Turais lunged for the book, but the sudden pain in his back left him immobilised.

          "Give it back," Turais gritted out.

          "No way!" Jonty shouted, dangling the book out of reach. "It's your fault all our magazines were confiscated. You owe us this."

          "Now, you're an interesting one…." a voice said from inside the book. It was Madam Duff, a woman dressed in exaggerated clothing and make-up. "Quite experienced, aren't you? More than I can say for anyone else here... In a bit of a dry spell, though… That is perfectly justified, given the circumstances… Still, a self-inflicted wound no less…." 

          Flustered, Turais immediately strengthened his mental defences. 

          "Don't be a spoilsport, love… I was about to get to the interesting bits —" 

          Turais summoned the book and threw it inside his trunk. Turning around, he saw the other boys staring at him incredulously. 

          " A dry spell ?!" Jonty sputtered. "That's ludicrous!"

          Fortunately, the other boys were soon preoccupied with Urquhart.

          "It seems that none of your stories with dear Tiffany are true," Rivers sneered.

          "We've reached the midfield line!" Urquhart insisted weakly, his cheeks aflame.

          "No, you said you've reached the scoring pot with her!" said Flint. "Not the starting line. Not the midfield line. Not the quod line. Scoring pot ."

          Meanwhile, Turais hobbled to his bed, his back aching terribly. Alex sat down beside him, concern etched on his features. 

          "Are you alright?" he whispered.

          "Just a twinge. Nothing to worry about…."

          "What did Imogen say?"

          "She searched through the visitor log, but no one named Fawley had ever visited," Turais began, but his words dissolved into a sharp intake of breath as Alex's hand grazed over his back. Alarmed, Alex lifted Turais's robe and saw faint streaks of blood soaking through his shirt.

          "You're bleeding," Alex said shakily. "We need to get you to the Hospital Wing —" 

          "There's no need for that. I have the ointment for it. Help me to the Room of Requirement —" 

          "The only place you'll be going is the Hospital Wing," Alex said unyieldingly. 

          The pair navigated the dimly lit corridors, each step accompanied by a grimace of pain from Turais until they finally arrived before Madam Pomfrey's office. After several knocks, the matron opened the door and said, "I hope you two have an excellent reason for being out of bed." 

          Alex lifted Turais's blood-stained shirt, and Madam Pomfrey immediately said, "Mr Fawley, please step outside. Mr Black, onto the bed, now ."

          Once Alex left the room, Madam Pomfrey locked the door and cast multiple protection and anti-surveillance charms. Then, she walked up to the window and observed the skies. 

          "Mr Black, did you travel to the Cairngorms this evening?" 

          "How did you know?"

          "A direwolf caused your wounds," she explained, pulling out an identical vial to the one that Imogen provided him. "The paste on your back is a unique formulation, accessible only to the Hunting families and the Order of Mona."

          "And you're a member of the Order?" 

          "The Headmaster hired me with this particular skill set in mind," Madam Pomfrey said while applying the stinging paste onto his back. "And yes, I have been made aware that you know of Mr Lupin's condition. This is the only reason you will not end up in the Headmaster's office tonight."

          "Thank you," Turias muttered when she finished. "And thank you for taking care of Remus."

          Madam Pomfrey's gaze softened.

          "While this visit is off the record, I will be communicating with Mister Williams to ensure that you remain grounded for the balance of this term. As for what excuse to use, I will leave it up to you. And lastly, do not reopen your wounds again, for Merlin's sake!"

          When Madam Pomfrey opened the door, Alex asked, "How is he?"

          "Mr Black is all patched up," Madam Pomfrey said. "Now leave so I can get some sleep."

          "See, I told you. Nothing to worry about." Turais said weakly.

          However, Alex shook his head and muttered, "This is all my fault…." before taking off toward the West Tower.

          Unable to chase after him, Turais guessed where Alex was headed and walked as quickly as his injuries would allow him. He entered the Room of Requirement just in time to see his friend throw the last of their research notes into the fireplace. 

          Hurt and loss overwhelmed Turais as he seized the front of Alex's robe. "Why?! Why did you do this?" 

          "Because you need to stop searching for a countercurse —"

          "I know it's out there, Alex! We'll find it —"

          "But at what cost?!" Alex shouted back. "Mather already travelled halfway across the world only to hit a dead end. You got injured researching this!"

          "I wasn't injured because of the curse, but because I wanted to meet with a Healer friend of Imogen's —"

          "But you wouldn't have met her tonight if you didn't need her help with the curse."

         Turais took a deep breath and said, "Alex, listen to me. No one said this would be easy. Everything that happened is just a natural part of the process —"

          "We're at the end of the trail! There's nowhere else to go!"

          "Then we'll forge a new path —"

          "You still don't see it, do you?!" Alex asked. "In our blind pursuit of the countercurse, the curse has already consumed our lives! I don't want to waste my life chasing down every false hope like my ancestors did, and I don't want you to either, Turais. Please, stop. I beg of you ."

          Alex's words struck deep into Turais's heart, and he steadied himself against the desk. He slammed his fist against the surface. "Then why did the gods let me learn of the curse, only for me to be unable to change a damn thing?"

          "They have a morbid sense of humour. In my instance, this is par for the course, I'd say," Alex said with a shaky grin.

          Turais let out a strangled laugh. "How can you joke about this?" 

          "Because I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself," Alex said with a sad smile. "Promise me, please. Stop searching for the cure."

          Turais looked away. Finally, with a heavy heart, he nodded.

 

Chapter 81: The Rookwood Quandary

Notes:

Hey everybody,

It’s been a while, but the new update is finally here. I hope you all enjoy it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

For the past year, I have been trying to finish my PhD, which is why my updates were few and far between. Now that I have submitted my thesis, my updates should become more frequent and regular.

Thank you for your continual support for this story throughout all these years!

- ravenclawblues 2024-07-26

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

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Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

THE ROOKWOOD QUANDARY


 

Appendix VII - Tales of the Hunting Clan excerpt

 

II. The Legend of Bríg and Nuckelavee 

At the dawn of creation, before the world was fully formed, Alba was a flat, featureless land. Every month, when the sun and moon took their joint rests, a fearsome monster named Nuckelavee would emerge from its shadowy lair, devouring everything its gaze fell upon and leaving only destruction in its wake.

Driven to desperation, the hunters turned their prayers to the heavens. Their pleas awakened the goddess Bríg, who was determined to end the monster's reign of terror. Aware of Nuckelavee's hunger for swine, she forged a celestial spear and transformed into a giant hog that matched the monster's insatiable appetite. 

Upon the next moonless night, Nuckelavee emerged from its lair to the sight of its ultimate feast. As it opened its jaws, Bríg summoned her spear from the sky, piercing the monster's treacherous heart. Nuckelavee let out a thunderous roar, shattering the spear into countless fragments. And as it fell, deep valleys formed, and rugged mountains rose. 

It is said that each shard of the shattered spear carries traces of Bríg's transformative magic, and those who are worthy may wield her power to ensure harmony and vitality of the lands they inhabit…

 

***

 

          "Why is everyone staring at us?" Turais asked Jonty as they walked down the busy corridor toward their tutorial session.

          "Not us, you ," replied Jonty. "The rumour of the day is that your secret lover is a ghost. That's why we've never seen them, and it also explains how you're somehow experiencing a 'dry spell.'"

          "Pray tell, which departed soul have I supposedly fallen for?" Turais asked dryly.

          "There are several candidates. First, the Grey Lady. A class choice. Then, Moaning Myrtle — Don't worry, no one is terribly convinced with that. There's also the Bloody Baron, for obvious reasons —"

          "How is that obvious ?"

          "Well, proximity for one. And you two share a flair for dramatics —"

          "Please stop," Turais interrupted, feeling ill. "I'm not a spectrophiliac, and I am most certainly not pining after Moaning Myrtle or the bloody Baron."

          "Grey Lady it is!" Jonty teased before ducking a strike from the other boy. "Speaking of ghosts, we haven't seen much of them, have we? There are supposedly hundreds of them roaming this castle, but I can count the number of times we've come across one. I wonder if they're avoiding us for a reason."

          Suddenly, Turais spotted Rookwood disappearing into a side corridor.

          "Come on!"

          "What are we —" Turais dragged Jonty out of sight just as Rookwood performed another surveilling scan of his surroundings. After the boy continued down another set of spiral staircases, Jonty hissed, "Why are we following Rookwood?"

          "None of the others in his little gang returned after their suspension. Aren't you curious why he's done so?"

          "No."

          "I've been keeping an eye on him," Turais said as they descended further and further into the bowels of the castle. "But I have yet to discover his secret."

          Gradually, the air thickened with the scent of dirt and mildew. Thick veins of algae and moss crept along the stone surface, and shallow pools of moisture glistened under the faint glow of Turais's wand tip. However, after several more turns, all traces of Rookwood had disappeared, leaving them stranded in the dark, dilapidated corridor.

          "Where did he go?" Turais growled in frustration. From somewhere nearby, there was a muffled bang followed by echoes of an inhuman groan.

          Jonty let out a whimper. "What was that noise?"

          "Someone probably disturbed a Venomous Tentacula," Turais explained. "I reckon it's from the sapling that escaped the greenhouses last year. It's been growing in the dungeons ever since." 

          "Hopefully, Rookwood is being strangled to death," Jonty whispered, tugging at Turais's sleeve incessantly. "Now, can we please leave?"

          After a final glance around, Turais allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs.

          "Have I ever told you that you're scary? Remind me never to cross you…" Jonty said as they rejoined the throngs of students. Hurrying past Pierricoeur, who was sitting on a bench with his nose buried deep in a pile of textbooks, Jonty whispered, "Rumour has it that he's registered for twelve O.W.Ls." 

          " Twelve ? Is he mad? Where's the point in that?"

          "He's trying to show you up —" 

          They rounded a corner, and Regulus ran to Turais with a dark scowl.

          "There you are! I was speaking with Mister Williams. What did he mean by you being unfit to fly?"

          "What's this all about?" Jonty asked Turais concernedly.

          "I've been experiencing twinges in my back," Turais recited his practised lie. "I tried to sort it out with Madam Pomfrey, but she couldn't pinpoint the cause and insisted that I rest from flying."

          "And you're going along with it?" Regulus asked suspiciously.

          "I thought I could use the time to focus on my O.W.L.s as well," Turais added. "Besides, Elffire has been training well all year. He'll do well as a starting Chaser." 

          Regulus scrutinised Turais for a long moment before sighing, "You should have told us earlier that you were feeling unwell. Don't worry, I'll win the Cup for us."

          The news of Turais's injury quickly spread throughout the school, and Sirius promptly declared that Turais needed a pick-me-up.

          "Let's watch a film!" Sirius announced as the brothers were taking a stroll on the school grounds. "In Muggles Studies yesterday, Professor Fraser showed us The Sting ."

          Turais frowned. "You're not in Muggle Studies —" 

          "Ah yes, the wonders of Muggle cinema," Regulus interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How are we supposed to suspend our disbelief when they can't even physically look like their characters?" 

          "Surely you don't prefer the Dolus Theatre productions. Their actors look like discoloured corpses shuffling across the stage in stuffy costumes!" Sirius said with utter disgust. 

          "It's authentic! They use a special form of Polyjuice which allows them to transform into historical figures —"  

          "I think you're simply too scared to acknowledge that Muggle cinema is superior —" 

          "I'm not scared!"

          "Then watch the film!" 

          "Fine!" Regulus huffed.

          Sirius nicked the film reel and a projector from the Muggle Studies classroom, and they met inside the Room of Requirement, which had been transformed into a dim, smoke-choked cinema.

          "I want to be closer to the screen!" Sirius said when Turais steered them into the middle rows.

          "Trust me, these are the best seats." 

          Regulus sat at the edge of his seat for the entire film, eyes wide, as Paul Newman and Robert Redford's characters — master con artists — partnered up and sought revenge against the antagonist by performing the ultimate con. However, in the final scene, Paul Newman seemingly killed his partner-in-crime and was, in turn, shot dead by the incoming detectives. 

          Regulus gasped in shock and horror, only to shout in delight a minute later.

          "Merlin! They faked their own deaths! And the Muggle Aurors were also part of the con! That was brilliant." 

          "Told you you'd enjoy it," Sirius said with a smirk.

          Regulus hastily suppressed his grin.

          "I suppose it wasn't that bad." 

          "Would you be interested in watching another one?"

          The younger boy shrugged. "Only if it's as good as this one." 

          Sirius dug his knuckles into Regulus's hair.  "Of course, only the best for my baby brother —" 

          Regulus slapped Sirius's hand away as Turais looked on amusedly.

 

***

 

          For the rest of the week, Turais could not further investigate Rookwood's secret hideaway due to his various commitments, which included overseeing Quidditch training leading up to the Slytherin-Gryffindor match. 

          Before then, there was another highly anticipated clash between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to determine who would advance to the finals. Geoffrey Macmillan, the captain of the Hufflepuff team, had never lifted the Inter-House Quidditch Cup and was determined to do so in his final year.

          As Turais enjoyed the animated, pre-match breakfast scene, a green, finch-like bird descended from the ceiling and landed in front of Turais.

          "One guess for who the Scottish crossbill belongs to!" Chesterfield shouted from across the hall to a tide of teasing hoots and whistles.

          Flustered, Turais hurried into the courtyard and read the letter.

Dear Turais,

I hope you are recovering well. There is something I wish to discuss with you in person. If you are available to meet me at Korrow Ruins today at three o'clock in the afternoon, please send three green sparks into the sky. If not, please send three blue sparks.

Yours truly,

Imogen

          Turais stored the letter safely in his pocket and pointed his wand at the sky.

          " Verdimillious Tria, " he muttered, and three green sparks shot into the sky. Seconds later, three additional green sparks appeared just over the eastern mountains.

          "What's got you smiling like this?" Jonty asked as he walked up next to Turais.

          "Nothing," Turais replied, hastily schooling his expression as the other boy smirked knowingly.

           Turais climbed up to the Gryffindor viewing stands and quickly spotted Remus and Peter amongst the crowd. After the incident with Barty, Turais realised there was someone else he was letting future actions cloud his judgement of. Therefore, he strolled over and squeezed between the two boys as the starting whistle sounded.

          "Hey, Remus, Peter. Do you mind if I join you here?"

          Peter looked up in surprise. 

          "N…no. Not at all!" he stammered.

          "Where's Sirius?" Turais asked casually.

          "Oh, he and James went off to do some mapping —" Peter gasped and covered his mouth. "Oh no… that was supposed to be a secret…."

          "Don't worry, I won't tell a soul," Turais said with a wink. Peter relaxed slightly. "So, they're back on terms again?"

          "Thank Merlin, they figured it out. The past two months were a complete nightmare."

          Meanwhile, Remus was not following the match. Instead, his eyes were squeezed shut, and his nose was twitching in the air. Gradually, he leaned towards Turais.

          "Er… Remus?" Turais whispered as the crowd around them cheered a Hufflepuff goal. "Why are you smelling me?"

          Remus flushed red and moved away, pointedly ignoring Turais for the rest of the match, in which the dominant Hufflepuff team handed Ravenclaw a resounding defeat. Once the match ended, Remus held Turais back until they were alone in the viewing tower.

          "Were you attacked by a werewolf?" Remus said worriedly. 

          "No. Why?"

          The younger boy heaved a sigh of relief.

          "This might sound odd, but you smell… different ."

          Turais sniffed at his robes and detected nothing. "What do you mean?"

          "It's a particular scent only people with my furry little problem can smell," Remus explained. "It allows us to identify one another in human form. I had to concentrate to catch a whiff of it on you, but it's unmistakable."

          After reassuring Remus that he would know whether a werewolf bit him, they returned to the castle. Turais split off when he saw Rookwood lurking suspiciously in the shadows again. This time, Turais followed the boy with a Tracking Spell, but the trail of footsteps ended abruptly at the same intersection. As Turais pondered his next move, he heard a series of low whispers from a room nearby.

          The air in the unused classroom was stale and choked with dust. Broken furniture and miscellaneous items were piled in an enormous, disorganised heap, and within it was the source of the voice. With a wave of his wand, Turais uttered, " Locomotor ," and the pieces of furniture hobbled off to the wayside with their remaining limbs to reveal a ghostly figure.

          "Where is it? It must be here somewhere," the ghost muttered frantically to himself.

          "Excuse me, sir —"

          "I'm busy ," the ghost mumbled before diving into a wooden chest. "I last saw it in the dungeons, or was it the Hufflepuff basement…." 

          "Sir, if you can just spare me a minute," Turais said. "Have you seen —"

          "Have you any ears? I said I am busy —" The moment the ghost saw Turais, his entire body went so pale that it appeared near-invisible. He prodded at Turais's shoulders with a trembling finger and realised he made physical contact. He immediately sank into the floor and performed a deep bow. "M—Master… my deepest apologies… To w…what does Menderes… owe the pleasure?"

          Turais frowned at the title.

          "Turais will do."

          "O…Of course," Menderes stammered at once. "Master Turais , w… what brings you to this part of the castle?"

          "It's not…." Turais heaved a sigh. "Never mind. I am in search of a third-year Slytherin boy. Curly hair, brown eyes. I believe he passed by here moments ago."

          "Oh… yes!" the ghost replied enthusiastically. "Augustus Rookwood is the boy your Mastership seeks. He often frequents these parts at the most peculiar of times."

          "Do you know where he went?" 

          "The detention chambers, and if your Mastership pleases, Menderes can show the way." They arrived at the intersection, and under the ghost's eerie glow, Turais could make out the faint outline of a snake engraved on the stone floor. "If your Mastership would be so kind as to tap the snake with your wand thrice." 

          Immediately, the snake slithered deeper into the floor, revealing a hidden circular staircase that led to a damp hallway blocked by a tangle of creeping vines.

          " Lumos maxima ," said Turais. Under the bright glow of his wand, the Venomous Tentacula groaned before its deadly tendrils receded into the dark crevices.

          At the end of the hallway was a single door. Venturing inside, he was immediately bathed in soft sunlight streaming from a large artificial window. Delicate curtains, almost translucent, swayed gently in a non-existent breeze. The walls were adorned with a collage of sketches in various stages of completion, ranging from majestic landscapes to photorealistic drawings of people. 

          "Caretaker Carpe locked unruly students in these rooms as punishment. How things have changed in a few years' time," remarked Menderes.

          In the far corner a wooden easel draped with a piece of fabric beside it. Turais moved to reveal the artwork when he spotted a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. He shot a Disarming Charm, and Rookwood dropped a silver palette knife onto the floor. 

          Rookwood's eyes widened at something behind him.

          Turais turned around to find the easel cover had fallen off, revealing a half-finished portrait of his image surrounded by newspaper clippings of his profile.

          Rookwood seized Turais's robe and shouted, "GET OUT!"

          Turais shoved the boy away roughly. 

          "What's going on here —?"

          "It's none of your business!" Rookwood turned to leave, but Turais immediately spelled the door shut.

          "You're not going anywhere until you explain yourself."

          Rookwood clawed at the door handle to no avail. In a bitter voice, he said, "The Dark Lord does not take kindly to failure. He has decided to make an example of my family. We have been stripped of our house, our fortune —  we have become outcasts, and it's all your fault!"

          "That doesn't explain my portrait," Turais pressed on. "Is it part of a ritual, or —"

          "There is no evil plot!" spat Rookwood. "I've simply been reduced to taking commissions from your secret admirers to afford school supplies! Did you think I would stare at your hex-able face for hours on end if it weren't absolutely necessary? Now, will you let me go?! "

          Caught off-guard by the admission, Turais cancelled the spell. Rookwood scrambled away as quickly as he could. Turais renewed his attention on the artworks around him when Menderes's head popped out from behind the canvas.

          "I have been well-versed in the realm of arts since my corporeal days," he said. "I can assure your Mastership that the boy's skill with charcoal and paintbrush is nothing short of exquisite craftsmanship. It would be a lamentable loss should he be compelled to cease his artistry."

          "Menderes, may I request your silence on today's affair?" asked Turais. "I need some time to decide on how to proceed."

          "Of course," the ghost said with a bow. "And if your Mastership requires no further assistance, I shall take my leave."

          "Thank you, Menderes. And please stop referring to me as 'your Mastership' —" 

          However, the ghost disappeared through the wall before he finished his sentence. 

          Checking his watch, Turais immediately set off to meet Imogen.

          The satin-green hills and gentle breeze distracted Turais from the turbulent thoughts regarding Rookwood's situation. Imogen was sitting atop the weathered remnants of Korrow Ruins, and when she spotted him from afar, she gave an energetic wave before floating down to meet him.

          "Hello, Turais," she greeted. "I hope you didn't have too much trouble on your journey here."

          "It was dreadfully mundane, which I cannot say for our previous two meetings," Turais replied. 

          "The day's still young."

          "But before we discuss anything further, I would like to return something of yours." Imogen tilted her head as Turais pulled the robes from his magically-extended bag. "Also, there is something you should know. Alex and I… we have decided to halt our search for the cure."

          Imogen studied him carefully. "You disagree with his decision."

          "I do," said Turais. "But I will respect his choice."

          Imogen frowned slightly before handing Turais a letter.

          "After the last full moon, Eoghan wanted to provide an update on his treatment plan."

          "Thank you," Turais said, slightly confused. "Is that all? Why didn't you send this with your previous message?"  

          Imogen's cheeks blotted with embarrassment.

          "I was also planning to ask whether you would like to learn staff-wielding, but if you're in a rush, you can head back and wait for my crossbill —"

          "My apologies, Imogen," Turais said immediately. "Thank you for your kind offer. I am very much interested, but my injuries…." 

          "Two weeks is sufficient to mend the muscles."

          "But Madam Pomfrey, the school matron —" 

          "Erred on the side of caution," Imogen said quickly. "Might I remind you that I was the one who healed you initially? I'd be keen to believe that I know my craft. Besides, exercise is known to improve the rate of recovery. If you have time, shall we start now?" 

          Imogen led him to a small clearing inside the forest. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the canopy above and cast dappled patterns on the soft carpet of grass. Imogen walked over to a large tree and tapped her staff against it. Suddenly, a large leather case fell from the branches and sprung open, revealing an assortment of staves.

          "Staves are favoured over wands in hunts for four main reasons," Imogen explained. "Firstly, they have superior aim and stability. Secondly, staves possess a more subdued magical aura, which minimises the risk of startling the creatures we stalk. Thirdly, they can serve as close-range weapons for self-defence. And lastly, of course, they make for a splendid walking stick!" she said with a chuckle. "As you can see, there are different types of staves, each serving a different purpose. The longest one is called a full-staff and is twelve feet long." 

          Imogen then gestured at her own staff.

          "This is a quarter-staff, which is one-quarter the length of a full-staff, and is for daily use. The shortest staff we make is an eighth-staff for children, which is still several inches longer than a typical wand. We Hunters tend to joke that wands belong in a toddler's toy box. 

          "Generally, longer staves allow for more powerful spellcasting, but more power doesn't necessarily mean better. Shoot down a jobberknoll with a full-staff, and you will pulverise it. Conversely, hunt a mature nogtail with an eighth-staff, and you will find an angry nogtail that is very much alive and exceedingly determined to pursue you to the end of the world."

          Turais thought it all sounded rather like golfing and choosing the right clubs.

          "What types of wood and cores are used?" he asked.

          "I'm afraid it is far less poetic than the stories your wandmakers have for their wands," Imogen replied. "Oak and ash are used for their flexibility and durability. As for the core, we use whatever hair our stables can provide, given the sheer amount required to craft a staff." 

          Turais nodded.

          "So, what will I be learning first?"

          "I usually prefer to start off with some staff-duelling as it helps wand users overcome their belief of wand superiority." Imogen handed a half-staff to Turais. "However, given your circumstances, we shall start with shooting practices." 

          The half-staff was deceptively heavy and required two hands to wield properly. Turais gave it an experimental twirl and nearly smacked himself in the face.

          "You will find me the most recent convert to staff superiority," said Turais.

          "How recently?"

          "I'm known to be stubborn, so about two and a half seconds ago."

          Over the next hour, Imogen taught him the basic stances and techniques of using a staff for shooting. Then she set up various targets around the clearing to aim at. The exercise proved more challenging than Turais had anticipated as he found himself unlearning everything about aiming with a wand and adapting to a staff.

          "No, place your arms like this," Imogen said, her voice close to Turais's ear as she held his shoulders in place. "Much like a wand, let the staff become an extension of your body."

          Turais nodded. He took a deep, steadying breath and caught a faint whiff of wildflowers and cedar. 

          Then, he took the shot. 

          The spell soared through the air and struck the jobberknoll-shaped target, which burst into flames.

          "Well done," she commended.

          Turais cleared his throat. Imogen seemed to snap out of a daze and stepped away to put some distance between them. She looked up at the rosy-hued sky that matched the colour of her cheeks.

          "Oh dear, I can't believe the time," she said. "Will you be available to meet again? Tomorrow morning, perhaps?"

          Turais shook his head apologetically. "I have Quidditch practice."

          "How about Monday?"

          "I have Prefect duties and then Study Club on Tuesday. I won't have another opening in my schedule until after my O.W.L.s," replied Turais. Imogen's face fell, and he quickly amended, "But I think I can rearrange my timetable. Why don't we meet again next week at the same time?"

          Imogen nodded. Then, suddenly, Turais spotted something moving beyond the bushes.

          Turais raised his lit staff and wand. Venturing forward, the twin beams fell upon a thestral with solid, white eyes and a coat so dark that it seemed to absorb all the light around it. Two severely scarred wings hung limply at the thestral's sides. Half of the left wing was completely severed, while the right wing was twisted into an unnatural angle.

          When they were several metres away from the creature, it reared up with its hooves, kicking up dirt and dust, before it galloped into the shadows of the forest.

          "Don't bother chasing after him," Imogen called out behind him.

          "You recognise this thestral?" asked Turais. 

          Imogen nodded. "Erebus is a rescue from our stables. Poachers often capture thestrals by breaking their wings. After shearing their hair, they leave them to die. Thestrals don't generally survive without their wings, but Erebus did." 

          "Then why do you not chase after him?"

          "He is known to disappear for long periods of time and has a strong distrust for humans. Even after so many years, he's only learnt to tolerate our stablemaster. We would not be able to catch him without doing much more harm."

          "But how do you ensure Erebus always returns?"

          "We prepare his favourite food and dim the lights in his stall. He never wanders into sunlit areas, so we built a covered path between his stall and the forest," explained Imogen. "Instead of chasing after him, we make him want to return to us."

          An idea occurred to Turais, and he gave Imogen a big hug.

          "You've been very helpful, Imogen. Thank you, and I'll see you next week!" Turais exclaimed, leaving the stunned girl as he sprinted towards the castle.

          Finding Rookwood in his dormitory, Turais locked the door and sat down.

          "Why are you here?" Rookwood growled. "Do you wish to humiliate me further?"

          "I don't want anything from you," Turais said brightly. "On the contrary, there is something you need from me —"

          "Are you barking mad —"

          "Gold. And I can help you with that —" 

          "I don't need your coins," spat Rookwood. "Even if I must sing for my supplies, it is less shameful than being in debt to you ."

          "Who said anything about charity?" said Turais. "I have decided to sit for your portraits."

          Rookwood stared at Turais, bug-eyed. "What?!"

          "A true enchanted portrait, painted when the subject is physically present, can easily fetch more than fifty times the price of a regular portrait. While I do not intend for unknown strangers to acquire enchanted portraits of me, I am willing to sit for you until the slightest imitations take hold, which should significantly increase the value of your work," Turais said. "Ultimately, you are still earning gold with your skills. You will just happen to be working with better source material."

          A shocked silence settled between them, but as Turais turned to leave, Rookwood immediately shouted, "I don't know what you're playing at, Black, but you won't get anything from me!"

          "Of course not," Turais replied with a grin. "I'll see you tomorrow night after dinner."

          The next time Turais ventured into the detention chambers, the door swung open, and Rookwood growled, "I don't want to hear a word out of you. Go sit on that stool." 

          Turais did as instructed. Rookwood donned his smock and started painting in earnest.

          "Rookwood, aren't you going to pose me?" There was no response. After a while, he asked again, "Can you emphasise the left half of my face? I've been told that's my good side, or in your case, more hex-able —"

          "Black?" Rookwood interrupted.

          "Yes?"

          "Shut up, or I will actually hex you."

          "I have it on good authority that you are second-to-last in your year in Defence —"

          "SHUT! UP!"

 

***

 

          April quickly melted into May, which meant that exams were fast approaching. A feverish atmosphere had taken hold over the fifth-years as they devoted every waking moment towards their O.W.L. revisions. Meanwhile, attendance for Defense Club plummeted to such an extent that no one was particularly bothered when Turais cancelled one of their weekly sessions, allowing him to dedicate that time to training with Imogen instead.

          "Today, we are moving on to close-quarter combat. I've taught you the basic stances, so let's see what you've got." Imogen assumed her position while Turais fumbled to do the same. "Ready."

          "Wait. What do I —"

          Imogen lunged forward, magic crackling from the tip of her quarter-staff, and swung at his head. Their staves clashed violently, purple sparks setting against green flames. Turais immediately tried to counter, but Imogen deftly evaded the attempt and dealt a blow against his thigh.

          Turais hissed at the sting as Imogen said, "Never step backward. It will leave you at a disadvantage." 

          They restarted, and Imogen launched a relentless assault, each blow precise and unerring. Turais slowly picked up on the technique, but for each successful block, he was punished with several well-placed strikes on his body. Then came a rare moment of success as Turais managed to parry one of her attacks and retaliate with a Stunning Spell. 

          Imogen deftly dissipated the attack with a twirl of her staff.

          "Better," she said. "Remember. Move forward when attacking and sideways when parrying." 

          Determined, Turais swung his staff with a flurry of strikes and spellcasting. Imogen effortlessly evaded his every move, her movements graceful and efficient. Then, she countered with a spell of her own.

          Turais raised his staff and conjured a shimmering shield in time to deflect the incoming spell. However, Imogen aimed her staff low and found the gap between his shield and the ground. Turais's feet were swept out from under him, and he fell with a heavy thud.

          "Not bad for a first-timer," Imogen said, towering over him with her arms crossed.

          "You're obligated to say that. I was absolutely rubbish."

          "You can be both at the same time," she said as Turais rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "We'll do another bout, but you can take a minute to rest."

          Imogen plopped down beside Turais, and he said, "Do you mind if I ask a personal question?" Imogen shook her head. "Everyone says you are next in line to become Chieftain as if it is a foregone conclusion. But isn't your leader democratically elected?"

          "Remember what I told you about every newborn child receiving a stone at birth?" she said, fiddling with the invisible stone on her necklace. "It is a ritual where parents bring their child to a stone circle where a stone will reveal itself to be claimed. According to legend, these standing stones — known as the Shards — are what remained of the spear that Bríg used to slay the ancient monster Nuckelavee. Unlike most others, my stone was harvested directly from the tallest, most sacred stone of all — the Spear itself. And by tradition, a Hunter who bears a Spearstone shall be chosen as the next Chieftain."

          "Didn't your aunt win the most recent election?"

          "Yes, since I have not taken part in the coming-of-age ceremony, she argued that I am not a Hunter and therefore ineligible to stand for the election," Imogen said. "I am grateful for her. I am still young and have yet to acquire the qualities that will enable me to lead my people."

          Later that night, Turais further asked Jonty about the issue.

          "The details are a bit murky, as is to be expected for any news originating from the Cairngorms," explained Jonty while Alex listened intently. "But I heard Lady Swindon cited an obscure technicality that ensured her ascendancy to chiefdom. However, the matter created a stark divide within the Hunting Clan. Her opponents denounced the legitimacy of her rule and claimed she seized power unscrupulously."

          "But from our conv— correspondence, Imogen doesn't seem to have any qualms about her aunt becoming Chieftain." Turais noticed Jonty eyeing him with a sly grin. "What?"

          "Just pleased for you, mate. Look at you two, already conv– I mean — corresponding at such great depths."

          "It's not like that —"

          "Then please enlighten us as to where you have been disappearing every Saturday afternoon?" Jonty asked smugly. He cupped his ears and gasped, "Wait —  Are those wedding bells I hear —"

          Turais lunged at the cackling boy, who darted out of the room. Slamming the door shut, Turais found Alex with his eyes narrowed.

          "Is that where you were after you cancelled Defense Club today?" Alex asked. "I thought we agreed to stop obsessing over the curse."

          "It's not about the curse, and I've already told her to stop her search," Turais explained. "Now, she's teaching me how to fight with a staff."

          "What about your injuries?" Alex said in alarm.

          "Imogen said moderate exercise would aid in my recovery —"

          "And why would you listen to her over Madam Pomfrey, a proper Healer?" 

          "You know fully well that Imogen saved me that night. She's a Healer in her own right," Turais said, frowning at his friend's harsh tone. "Did something happen today? You sound unlike your usual self."

          "What I thought was the last time you sneaked out of the castle, you sustained a potentially life-threatening injury!" Alex retorted. "Now I learn you've been leaving every week without telling me. But evidently, I worry too much!"

          "I didn't mean it that way," Turais said hastily. "Sorry, Alex. You're right. I failed to consider your side of things —"

          "But you'll continue to sneak out, won't you?" Alex interrupted, and at Turais's silent admission, he stormed out of the room.

          For the week after their argument, Alex ignored Turais, much to their friends' annoyance. However, tempers were running high everywhere in the castle due to the piling pressures from the impending exams and Quidditch finals.

          Ultimately, Turais elected to give Alex some space, hoping the other boy would soon come around.

          "I hate it when you quarrel with Alex. It makes the dormitory feel like a morgue," Jonty said as they headed to breakfast the following Saturday. "What was it you said that angered him?"

          "Why do you just assume it's my fault?" Turais protested. "Besides, I already told you. We didn't quarrel!" 

          Jonty let out a dismissive snort. "Send Galdorwin my regards." 

          That request was impossible as Imogen was also in a foul mood. They skipped over the usual banter and immediately launched into the most intense staff-duelling that Turais had ever experienced in their lessons. After conceding six defeats in rapid succession, Turais saw Imogen readying for a seventh bout when he signalled for a rest.

          "So… would you like to share what is bothering you?" Turais asked after regaining his breath.

          "Not particularly, no," Imogen replied as she ripped out a fistful of grass and scattered it in the air.

          "Alright, then." Turais reached for his staff and stood up. "Watch out, I'm winning this next match. Seven is the magic number. I can feel it." 

          However, Imogen stayed put. 

         "No, you're not," she said with a shadow of a smile. After a long moment, she whispered, "Thank you for being my training dummy today… Before I came here, I… I had another argument with my aunt about leaving the Cairngorms."

          "You wish to leave?"

          Imogen nodded.

          "There is so much of the world I have yet to see, but every time I raise the question, my aunt gives me the same old answer: 'One day, but not now.' I have spent most of my life in the Cairngorms, trying to learn how to become a leader. But how am I supposed to lead when I don't have any idea what the world looks like on the other side of the border?! It makes no sense!" Imogen let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to burden you with this."

          Turais reached for Imogen's shoulder and squeezed it. "It's alright. I'm here to lend an ear."

          "Thank you," she said. "You should head back first. I… would like to sit here for a while longer."

          Turais was halfway to the castle when he noticed the trees and the birds falling silent. Slowly, an eerie shadow descended across the land as a piercing coldness gripped his body and seeped into his very core. He looked up, and the sun was muted, veiled by a carpet of rolling darkness.

         Then, Turais spotted the sea of cloaked figures gliding towards the castle. Several broke off from the group and headed towards the forest. 

          "Imogen," Turais gasped. By the time he sprinted back to the clearing, the girl was locked in a losing battle against the unnatural creatures. 

          " Expecto Patronum! " Turais shouted. A silvery thestral erupted from his wand and charged towards the Dementors, driving them out of sight. Turais knelt before the violently shivering girl and said, "Take my Patronus. It will protect you on your journey home."

          Imogen gripped his arm and pulled him into a tight hug. With chattering teeth, she whispered, "Take care of yourself, alright?"

          The words were innocent, yet it sounded like a farewell.

          "I will," Turais said quietly. "See you next week?"

          "See you next week," Imogen repeated with a sad smile. After a long moment, she finally let go of Turais's hand and ran into the forest.

          Once he could no longer see the light from his Patronus, Turais sprinted back to the castle and arrived outside the Slytherin common room just as his friends walked out.

          Alex immediately enveloped him with a tight hug.

          "Thank God you're safe!" gasped Alex. "I… we were so worried."

          "I'm fine," said Turais. "I saw the Dementors approaching Hogwarts. What happened?"

          Releasing Turais, Alex explained, "Nott has been spotted in Hogsmeade again. The Aurors are on high alert, and Dumbledore has been searching the school grounds for you." 

          "He knew about you and Galdorwin," Jonty added quickly.

          Turais winced.

          "I better go see him," he said as his stomach sank in resignation.

          When Turais stepped into the Headmaster’s office, Dumbledore's voice immediately boomed, "It was foolish of you to wander beyond these castle walls, Mr Black." 

          Turais met his gaze. "I understand, sir."

          "And I must insist that you not do it again, especially when the Ministry has requested to station Dementors along the school boundaries. These vicious creatures do not distinguish between the ones they hunt and those they ought to protect. Am I understood?"

          "Yes, sir." There was a pause. Then, Turais asked, "Is that all?"

          "Lady Swindon expresses her gratitude and compliments for your impeccably sustained Patronus. But yes, that is all."

          Turais looked up in surprise. With a strained smile, he replied, "I'm glad to hear Miss Galdorwin made it home safely."

          Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled.

          "Now off to bed, you go."

 

***

 

          While Turais was surprised by the lack of punishment for his rule-breaking, he had anticipated the sight of an Auror awaiting him when he left the Slytherin common room the following day.

          "The Headmaster has granted your father's request for extra protection," Moody explained. "You will be personally escorted throughout the castle by me until further notice. I have also been provided a timetable of all your sanctioned activities, and we will be following it strictly."

          "Of course," Turais muttered. "I apologise for causing you to be stuck with such a mundane task." 

          "Nonsense, I volunteered my services. Besides, if the rumours hold any truth, I will be severely disappointed if our time spent together is anything less than eventful."

          The teachers were no longer setting them homework, and all lessons were devoted to reviewing for the upcoming exams. Meanwhile, Turais busied himself by interpreting Eoghan's latest findings and offering suggestions.

          After being trapped in a classroom for the entire day, Turais was relieved when he arrived at the scheduled Defense Club meeting. Compared to previous sessions, the Great Hall was packed with students. There was also a sense of restless anticipation that permeated the crowd. 

         Before he could speak, Lily raised her arm and asked, "Is it true that you can produce corporeal Patronuses in multiple forms?"

          "Yes." 

          A murmur of interest rippled throughout the room.

          "And sustained simultaneously?" she added.

          "It's true," Gerald piped up from the back of the room. "I've seen him do it. A stag, a dog, a werewolf —"

          "I've never heard of such a thing as a werewolf Patronus," said Pierricoeur. 

          "No one asked you," quipped Regulus.

          "Listen," Turais said, and everyone fell silent at once. "I understand you are all concerned about the Dementors stationed around Hogwarts. In light of this, I have decided to teach the Patronus Charm today.

          "A Patronus is a kind of positive force made purely of hope, happiness, and the desire to survive. Therefore, you need to draw upon a very happy memory — a very powerful memory. Your first ride on a broom will not be enough." Turais looked at Sirius, whose shoulders immediately slumped. "Once you've selected your memory, stay focused, and say the incantation: Expecto Patronum. "

          Four Patronuses soared from his wand tip, and gasps erupted around the room.

          "I've never seen the rat before!" Sirius whispered excitedly. "Is it new?"

          Turais studied Peter's awed expression and muttered, "Something like that."

          Everyone eagerly split off into groups and started practising. However, little progress was made, and by the end of the session, only two seventh-year students managed to produce a few faint wisps of light.

          "Great work, everyone, and keep practising," Turais said as the students left. "It is extremely difficult to produce a corporeal Patronus. I don't expect any of you to master the charm any time soon. And remember, even a shield will repel Dementors."

          "I know my Patronus is going to be a dog," declared Sirius while Turais tidied the hall.

          "And how would you know that?" asked Regulus.

          "A Patronus is supposed to reflect your innermost personality, and I have the soul of a pooch."

          "Well, that helps explain why you wetted your bed last month—"

          Sirius hastily covered Regulus's mouth as Moody approached.

          "A brilliant display of magic, Mr Black," said the Auror. "However, it pales in comparison to your ability to manage a room full of wand-waving teenagers."

          "I assure you it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with your presence, Auror Moody," replied Turais. "Since you're here, I was wondering if you are interested in hosting a lesson. It feels like a missed opportunity otherwise."

          "I will accept your invitation in exchange for a duel."

          Sirius and Regulus stopped their tussling, and their jaws dropped.

          "What are your terms?" Turais asked.

          "Until one of us yields. And by any means possible, except for the Unforgivables," Moody said. "Do you accept, Mr Black?"

 

***

 

          "What were you thinking?!" Regulus shouted when they returned to the Slytherin common room. "Agreeing to duel against an Auror!"

          "It will be an interesting challenge. Senior Aurors do not randomly challenge students to duels, and I would like to see how I fare against a seasoned duellist."

          "What for?" Regulus asked frustratedly. "It's not as if you will become an Auror!"

          Turais stopped in front of his dormitory and said, "Reggie, don't write to Father about this. There’s no need for him to worry."

          Regulus harrumphed. 

          "If this sets back your recovery time, or affects your O.W.L.s in any way, trust that I will personally deliver that letter to Father myself."

          "You should have more faith in me," said Turais. "Who says I won’t win?"

          "I hope you recognise how deluded you sound," Regulus said before stomping off. 

          The moment Regulus disappeared up the stairs, Turais slipped out of the common room under the Cloak of Invisibility. Arriving in the detention chambers, he watched Rookwood pacing nervously in front of the room. 

          After several sessions, this was the first time Rookwood expressed anything but utter contempt in front of him. 

          The moment Turais stepped into view, Rookwood stopped rubbing his hands and fixed a dark scowl on his face.

          "You're late," Rookwood said gruffly. Turais shrugged and settled into his usual spot. Opening his Charms textbook, he noticed Rookwood staring at him questioningly. "How did you evade your bodyguard?"

          "I have my ways," Turais said mysteriously. "I do treat my job as a model very seriously."

          Rookwood scoffed and started painting. After a while, Turais asked, "If you are so inclined, can you finally reveal which half of my face is more hex-able? I can handle the truth."

          There was a long silence, but then, Rookwood muttered, "Left."

          Turais looked up in surprise.

          "And why is that?"

          There was another pause, followed by a sigh.

          "It's lumpier, so there's more to aim at."

          Turais chuckled, and he could have sworn that Rookwood cracked a smile.

Notes:

This is not a drill! Turais finally gets to meet a ghost in Hogwarts!

Also, Team Wand or Team Staff?

See you soon!

- ravenclawblues 2024-07-26

Chapter 82: The Brightest Darkness

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update! Don’t get used to this update frequency yet as I still have a thesis to defend (date TBD). Thank you for continuing to support this story!

- ravenclawblues 2024-08-21

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

THE BRIGHTEST DARKNESS


 

June 2, 1974 (Sunday)

 

PREMIER LEAGUE TITLE RACE:

Puddlemere United beats back Ballycastle Bats to keep within touching distance of Appleby Arrows 

by A. Carnierus, Quidditch Correspondent

 

Puddlemere United kept their title hopes alive by securing a crucial 440-130 victory over Ballycastle Bats on Saturday. Talismanic Chaser Simon Quigley scored two centuries — an effective partnership with Beatrice Weald that saw 201/235 accurate passes — before Margaret Hoshour secured the victory in front of nearly eight thousand fans at the Down Lane Bowl.

Appleby Arrows remain in pole position for the title with an easy victory over Wigtown Wanderers at home earlier that day. At the same time, Puddlemere are two points behind the league leader entering the final fixture of the season. Now, all eyes now turn to final-day drama when Puddlemere travels to Appleby for the title-deciding match…

 

***

 

          The day of the Slytherin-Gryffindor match had arrived. After the pre-match talk, Turais donned a scarf that combined the colours of both houses and sat beside Marlene and Lily in the commentator's box.

          ".... and Regulus Black is the Seeker," Marlene said at the end of the team introductions. "There is one change in the Slytherin line-up for today's match, with Nathaniel Elffire replacing Turais Black as Chaser. Let us take this opportunity to extend our very best wishes to Black for a swift and full recovery!"

          The stadium erupted in ovation, and a familiar chant began to rise, loud and clear:

Turais Black, our shining star, 

Greatest Seeker, near and far. 

That's the reason we all sing,

Turais Black — our Quidditch King! 

          "Come on!" Lily shouted, urging him forward. Turais rose in acknowledgement, and the cheers reached a thunderous crescendo.

          "It's rather embarrassing when I'm not the Seeker anymore," Turais said when the applause finally petered out.

          "But it must feel nice to hear everyone sing your praises," Lily replied.

          The match began, and both teams played with the determination of knowing the winner earned the last berth to the finals. The Slytherin and Gryffindor teams were evenly matched, and the lead was constantly traded between them.

          Sirius also enjoyed his best match performance yet, scoring his tenth goal in under twenty minutes. As the Slytherin Keeper retrieved the Quaffle, Sirius drifted lazily by the commentator's box.

          "Hey Marlene, how's the show from up here?" 

          Marlene grinned and announced, "Both teams are currently at one hundred and thirty points. Sirius Black also scored his first century and is now the leading goalscorer for this season."

          "Oh my," Sirius gasped theatrically. "I didn't know you kept count —" 

          The whistle sounded, and Mister Williams shouted, "Black, get down here!" 

          "Hold that thought. I have a match to win!" Sirius performed a pirouette with his broom before flying off.

          "What a daft git," Turais groaned.

          "Someone seems to be enjoying it," Lily whispered, pointing out Marlene's amused expression.

          After a few more minutes of back and forth, it was clear that the match would come down to a Seekers game. Regulus emerged victorious from his showdown against Birdwhistle, catching the Snitch and settling the match in Slytherin's favour. Amidst the jubilant roars from the Slytherin section, Turais headed to the Gryffindor dressing room, where the players filed out with disappointment etched deeply on their faces.

          Spotting Sirius, Turais swung an arm around his brother's shoulder and said, "Hey, join me for a walk." 

          They walked along the pebbled banks of the Black Lake in silence. Eventually, Sirius tugged at Turais's half and half scarf and asked, "No one hexed you for this abomination?"

          "No. I was secretly hoping someone would try, though." 

          "You don't have to do this…" Sirius said quietly. "I'm fine." 

          Turais studied his brother for a moment before picking up a random pebble.

          "I know. I wanted to skip stones, but it felt silly to come here alone." 

          He threw the pebble, which made a heavy splash and sank immediately.

          "You're doing it all wrong," muttered Sirius. He bent down, carefully selected a flat, smooth stone, and turned it over in his palm a few times to find the perfect balance. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the stone skipping effortlessly across the water. Just when it seemed the stone would continue indefinitely, a massive tentacle erupted from beneath the surface and dragged the skipping stone out of sight. "Aw, shucks. That was such a perfect throw as well…" 

          "Well, that's just how it goes sometimes. If it's not the Giant Squid, then it's those pesky grindylows." Turais handed his brother a second stone. "Try again?"

          Sirius stared at the stone for a long while. "You know what, you're right. Some champions wait five years to compete in the Hecatean Games. We'll try for the Cup again next year!"

          Turais grinned. "That's the spirit."

          By the time they returned to the castle, Sirius was in much better spirits. Turais returned to the Slytherin common room, where a party was in full swing. Stepping through the portrait hole, he was immediately confronted by an irritated Regulus.

          "We've been waiting for you for nearly half an hour!"

          Turais frowned. "Why?" 

          "Because you're our captain, of course! Where were you?" 

          "With Sirius. I wanted to make sure he was fine."

          "Oh, right…," muttered Regulus. "How is he doing?"

          "He's alright now. I didn't mean to make you wait, but I'm here now!"

          Regulus mustered a half-hearted grin when Jonty appeared between them.

          "Turais, may I have a word?" Jonty asked, his expression serious.

          "But —" Regulus protested.

          "I'll be right back, Reggie," Turais said as Jonty dragged him into a hidden alcove. 

          "There is something you ought to know —" 

          Jonty stopped abruptly at the sound of footsteps. Rookwood paused at the sight of the two fifth-years, nodded curtly, and walked away.

          Jonty's eyes narrowed at the interaction, and Turais prompted, "You were saying?"

          "Rumours have been circulating through the portraits this week that Malfoy turned down a meeting with Voldemort," Jonty said. "Whatever you're doing, it seems to be working."

          "If that's true, then it's great news indeed," Turais replied. "And what of the others on that list?"

          "Nothing. But there was something else that I found interesting. It is the faintest of whispers and impossible to verify…." Jonty said hesitantly. "They claim that the propaganda writer, Tacenda Guise, is amongst us."

          "Tacenda Guise is a Hogwarts student?"

          "More specifically, a Slytherin pureblood." Turais scanned the many faces in the common room as Jonty warned, "It's just a whisper." 

          "There's no smoke without fire. Tacenda Guise has succeeded in keeping their identity a secret for years without the slightest suspicion. Something must have changed," Turais said as Jonty shifted awkwardly. "But I agree with you. It shall remain a whisper. For now."

          After Jonty rejoined the party, Turais felt an urgent tap on his shoulder. He turned around to face a blank stretch of wall when the ghostly head of a young lady suddenly emerged.

          "Master Turais ?" she whispered nervously, eyes averted.

          "Yes?"

          The ghost emerged fully, revealing a unique set of Hunting robes similar to those Imogen wore to training.

          "I am here to deliver a message. Miss Galdorwin wishes to notify your Mastership that she is no longer allowed to communicate with anyone outside of the Cairngorms. She also asks that you climb to the top of the Astronomy Tower at midnight today," she muttered and immediately turned to leave.

          "Wait!" Turais said, and the ghost stilled. "Thank you for the message. May I know your name?"

          Her translucent figure started flickering frantically. Then she whispered shakily, "If it pleases your Mastership, I should prefer to remain nameless." 

          "Of course," Turais said, and the flickering stopped. "You may leave."

          "Thank you," she gasped gratefully before floating through the wall.

 

***

 

          At midnight, Turais climbed to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Searching the skies, a brilliant, violet flame flared to life between the mountain peaks. 

          It was the top of the Eyrie. 

          The flame turned into a shower of azure sparks, followed by a brilliant column of scarlet red, then a spiralling disc of amber, emerald, and pink. 

          Turais raised his wand, and a herd of thestral Patronuses surged forth. They sailed toward the tower as their silvery forms weaved and twisted through the air in a dance which mirrored the pulsing lights Imogen had conjured.

          As the final light faded, one of the thestrals landed on the distant platform to deliver a message: See you at the Litha festival.

          When Turais returned to the base of the tower, he found Edgar standing by the door with a knowing smirk on his face. 

          "Did you enjoy your little date —?"

          Turais immediately protested. "It's not a date —"

          "— Because you should, seeing that the Aurors reassigned all your patrol duties to me," Edgar continued good-naturedly. "But if you don't want to get caught, try not to cast bright lights from the top of the Astronomy Tower at night."

          Turais grimaced. "I saw no other alternative, seeing that she's grounded with no access to reliable communication across the border while I have a senior Auror as my shadow."

          "You should consider yourselves fortunate. Your joint disappearance almost caused a diplomatic crisis between Britain and the Cairngorms," Edgar replied dryly. "Dumbledore and Lady Swindon managed to keep things under wraps, but think about that before you try anything next time —"

          The tell-tale sound of recognisable footsteps came echoing from around the corner.

          "Sorry to cut this conversation short, but I have to run," Turais hissed. 

          He swung the Cloak of Invisibility over his head and ducked past a determined Moody before hurrying back to the Slytherin common room. He changed into his pyjamas and hopped into his bed just before Moody charged in. 

          The Auror scrutinised Turais carefully before he said, "Clever. But there won't be a second time."

          For the following days, Turais did not dare do anything remotely suspicious under Moody's near-constant surveillance. Finally, it was the night of the duel, and Moody brought Turais to the Great Hall, where they were greeted by three Aurors, Professor Mather, and a small, wispy wizard.

          "Master Turais Black, my name is Wilkie Twycross, and I am the Ministry Apparition instructor. It's a pleasure to meet you finally," the man said, shaking Turais's hand vigorously. "I have heard many great things about you."

          Before Turais could respond, Professor Mather checked his watch and said, "The wards are now lifted. Auror Moody, you have exactly five minutes."

          Gesturing at the others, Moody asked, "You don't mind if my colleagues observe our duel, Mr Black?"

          "Er… I suppose not —" 

          "Excellent!" Moody pulled out his wand. "We don't have time to waste, Mr Black. Ready yourself!"

          Turais barely lifted his wand before the Auror tapped his wand to his head.

          Recognising the Disillusionment Charm, Turais painted the entire Hall in dizzying patches of stripes, checkers, and chintz. Against the conflicting patterns, Turais quickly spotted the outline of Moody's figure by the stained glass windows. He shot a non-verbal Finite that landed and lifted the Auror's disillusionment.

          Revealed in full, Moody thrust his wand at the sea of floating candles and extinguished all the flames, plunging the Great Hall into darkness.

          Turais pointed at the ceiling and shouted, " Caelum Revelio ."

          The clouds parted to reveal the waxing moon. An enchanted fog rolled in as light returned to the room and concealed Moody within it. Undeterred, Turais summoned several Patronuses, who darted around the Hall and dispelled the fog with their luminous bodies. They rushed towards Moody's position, but the man quickly Disapparated to the opposite corner.

          Moody immediately shot a curse at Turais, who conjured a series of shifting mirrors. The curse ricocheted between the silvery surfaces until it hurtled back at Moody, who shot a Bombarda at the final mirror. 

          The shockwave shattered all the mirrors simultaneously, and Turais transfigured the broken shards into dozens of faceless mannequins. 

          They crawled towards Moody like a wooden army of Inferi. Just before Moody was surrounded, he Disapparated to the other end of the Hall and muttered, " Homenum Geminio. "

          Exact copies of the Auror budded from his body until the replicates filled the room. Confounded, the mannequins pounded on each illusion indiscriminately while Moody melted into the background. 

          Positioning himself for the next attack, Turais suddenly felt a presence probing his surface thoughts. He immediately sank into a deeper layer of his mind and reinforced his mental fortress.

          The invading force immediately morphed into a chaotic swirl of ever-multiplying tendrils. They curled around every turret and burrowed into every crevice, eager to exploit any weakness. However, no matter how much Moody tore away at his defences, Turais continually rebuilt and refortified from within. Once the tendrils were stretched thin across his defensive wall, Turais expanded the fortification outward.

          "You'll have to try harder than that!" Turais thought loudly.

           The tendrils snapped and crumbled. Sensing the offensive was in full retreat, Turais pressed the counterattack when a violent slam cut off the connection.

          Turais resurfaced in the physical world and threw a small, black object onto the ground. Seconds later, the Hall was engulfed in a loud, high-pitched bang. Spotting the crouching Auror amongst the unaffected copies, Turais directed his mannequins to charge.

          " Confringo! " shouted Moody, destroying the mannequins in a fell swoop. Then he summoned the four long tables and the silverware atop them. The materials coalesced to form a mechanical puppet with goblets as joints and silver plates as the armoured underside.

          Uncorking a vial from his robe, Moody dropped a single hair inside and threw it at his creation.

          Purple smoke poured from the broken vial and covered the puppet. Suddenly, it sprang to life and honed in on Turais's location. Mirroring Moody's motions, the monster swung its left arm — a portion of the Gryffindor table — at Turais.

          Turais rolled out of the way and aimed at where the arm was about to strike.

          "Liquo! Duro!" he shouted in rapid succession. The arm sank into the liquified stone before the floor rehardened around it.

          Turais immediately climbed onto the monster's back and shot a Blasting Curse at its right knee, destroying its leg. Enraged, it seized Turais by the robe and hurled him at the high windows. However, Turais Disapparated just before he hit the glass and reappeared atop the monster's head.

          Nearby, Twycross released a shocked gasp.

          The monster immediately tried to shake him off, but Turais shouted, " Impedimenta !" 

          Its movements turned sluggish, and Turais aimed several more Blasting Curses at its joints, dismantling it limb by limb. As the monster crumbled, Turais was hit by a shimmering cloud of golden powder.

          The world suddenly turned upside down, and Turais found himself falling away from the floor towards the enchanted ceiling. He grasped a beam and climbed onto it, quickly realising he was standing on the underside of the timber trusses that formed the ceiling. After reorienting himself, Turais leapt across beams and braces as a deluge of spells descended from the floor above. 

          " Oppugno! " Moody shouted, and the floating candles shot towards Turais like arrows. 

          Turais threw himself upwards vertically. At the peak of his jump, he cast the counter-curse, and the world righted itself. Turais tumbled onto the floor and rolled away just as the pursuing candles crashed into the floor, becoming a pile of molten wax. He summoned the school banners without pause, transfiguring them into vines as they streamed towards Moody.

          The grizzled Auror swiftly sliced the sentient plant into harmless tendrils. However, each segment multiplied like a hydra, morphing into serpents that continued to slither towards the man. Despite Moody's valiant effort to repel them, one managed to sneak past his defence and wrapped it around his left ankle, where it transformed into a heavy metal cuff that anchored the man to the spot.

          Unable to move and distracted by the remaining snakes, Moody did not block the Expelliarmus that Turais sent.

          "Do you yield?" Turais asked as he caught the Auror's wand out of the air.

          "Not quite," Moody said. A staff shot out from his sleeve and knocked the wands out of Turais's hand. "Now, do you yield?"

          Recalling a defensive manoeuvre from Imogen, Turais seized Moody's staff with both hands, twisted his body inwards, and swiftly disarmed the man. 

          As Turais wondered why the staff felt strangely light, the oak doors creaked open. Professor McGonagall walked in, followed by a large group of sixth-years. At the same time, Turais noticed Pandora slipping out of the room.

          "Bodrick, why were the sixth-years standing outside —" McGonagall paused at the sight of the half-destroyed Great Hall, then at the gathered Aurors. Finally, she turned to the pair at the centre of the mess and demanded, "Explain yourselves at once!" 

          "Professor McGonagall, Mr Black, and I were merely engaging in a friendly duel," said Moody as he tried to wrest his foot from the metallic confines. "I've sought permission from Professor Mather —" 

          "I am most certain that Professor Mather did not agree to the destruction of the Great Hall! Mr Moody, I understand that you've always had a certain disregard for the rules since your schoolyard days. Still, you are a senior Auror now, and I expect you to behave like one —" McGonagall's eyes fell upon the metal cuff around Moody's ankle. "Is this —?"

          "Mr Black's handiwork," said Moody. "Non-verbal triply-nested transfiguration."

          The corner of McGonagall's eyebrow twitched. After a long moment, she waved her wand around the Hall and restored everything to their original position.

          "See to it that your duels do not get out of hand again, and ten points to Slytherin for sheer magical brilliance," she said before instructing the sixth-years to assume their positions for the Apparition lesson.

          Turais handed the staff back to Moody. "This isn't a proper staff." 

          "It's not," Moody agreed, grinning slyly. With a tap of his wand, he un-transfigured the long stick into a handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. "But I was correct in assuming you knew how to fight against one."

          "So… what will become of our duel?" asked Turais.

          "It's done," replied Moody. "Besides, I've seen enough."

 

***

 

          When Turais arrived at the next Defence Club meeting, every head turned to look at him with an awestruck expression. He promptly discovered the reason when Jonty dragged him off to a corner.

          "I happened upon a conversation in the staffroom. Is it true that you won the duel against Auror Moody?" asked Jonty.

          "We didn't discuss it, but I suppose I did."

          There were gasps behind them, and Turais turned to see the students had formed a ring around them, all pretence of practising the Patronus Charm abandoned.

          "Ignore the others. Attention on me," Jonty said, turning Turais's face towards him. "I heard that you performed a triply-nested transfiguration on the school banners non-verbally —"

          "That is far beyond what is required of N.E.W.T. levels," interrupted Pearson.

          "Well, what did you expect?" Flint answered. "Black reads seventh-year textbooks for fun."

          "That's not even the most impressive bit," said Jonty. "Apparently, Turais knows Dynamic Apparition!"

          "What's that?" asked James.

          "In Sixth year, the Ministry teaches Apparition from one stationary position to another stationary position, or Static Apparition," Frank explained to the captivated audience. At the same time, Turais shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "However, the ability to Apparate whilst in motion is a highly specialised skill that is only taught in a handful of institutions, such as the Auror Academy —"

          "Listen, everyone!" Turais shouted. "Can we please focus our attention back on the Patronus Charm —"

          "On the subject of Patronuses, no one has been known to conjure multiple Patronus forms simultaneously," said Lily. "The closest thing I've heard of is Professor McGonagall conjuring three cat Patronuses at once."

          "This is the reason why Turais is teaching us!"

          Everyone turned to the owner of the Sonorus -amplified voice, Pandora, who continued, "And also why we should stop the chit-chat and follow his instructions."

          Gradually, the lesson was steered back on track. Turais wandered amongst the students, and despite some of them managing faint wisps of light, there was a growing sense of frustration. Arriving next to Pandora, he said, "Thank you for what you did back there." 

          "I wish to master the Patronus Charm," said Pandora. "And I'm not about to let some gossip about your duel detract me from my goals."

          "Speaking of which, I am curious about the Limbo Mist Powder you provided to Auror Moody."

          Pandora looked around in surprise. "How did you know it was me?" 

          "You're the president of the Spellmasonry Club, and I saw you examining the aftermath of our duel. I connected the dots."

          "I was running the final safety test on the powder when Auror Moody visited. You see, he was a previous president of the club, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to see it used in an actual duel… but it worked well, didn't it?"

          "Perhaps too well, seeing that you almost cost me that duel," Turais said good-naturedly.

          "I can't say I'm sorry," she replied with a shrug. "But you recovered brilliantly! Also, what spellcraft did you use to generate the loud noise?"

          "A time-delayed Caterwauling Charm, or a rather crude prototype," said Turais, describing the Decoy Detonator. Fred and George Weasley had disclosed the production process to him, and he had managed to recreate it from memory to a satisfactory result.

          "It's ingenious!" Pandora said excitedly. "In fact, would you like to visit the laboratory? We can work to improve it together!"

          After setting a day to meet, a collective gasp erupted around the Hall. A silvery Golden Retriever leapt into Turais's arms and wagged its tail excitedly.

          "I did it!" Sirius shouted.

          "Excellent work, Sirius!" Turais said. "Everyone, I know some of you may be frustrated, but believe me, you have already made significant progress. Don't give up practising."

          "He's your brother. Of course, he masters the charm before the rest of us!" snapped a frustrated Pierricoeur. "This is a complete waste of my time!"

          Pierricoeur turned in a huff, accidentally ramming into Regulus as he left.

          "Reggie —"

          "I'm fine!" Regulus glowered at Turais before staring at the third-year group gathered around Sirius.

          "How are you so cute ?" Marlene cooed while the dog Patronus gambolled around her. 

          "It's just part of my charm," Sirius winked.

          Marlene's cheek blotted pink as she tugged Lily's arm and walked away wordlessly. Once she walked out of earshot, James shook Sirius excitedly and said, "Marlene's sooooo into you."

          "Shut it, James."

          Turais cleared his throat and called an end to the session. Everyone else scattered, leaving the brothers alone in the room.

          "What do you reckon he should be called?" asked Sirius as the dog Patronus let out a sneeze and fell on its bottom, looking confused.

          "Why don't you name him after that gytrash? Grimy or what's-its-name?" snapped Regulus.

          "No way! Grimmie is a one-of-a-kind pup," replied Sirius. "Do you think he looks like a Woofus? Or a Barkley?"

          Regulus growled, "I am not going through this again —"

          "I've got it! You're Snuffles!" shouted Sirius, and Turais turned his head so quickly that he almost dazed himself. "Wait, Reggie! I'm planning to take Snuffles out on a walk! Do you want to join —"

          "And watch you show off your pet to your friends?" 

          " Regulus ," Turais said warningly.

          "What? No!" Sirius protested. "I thought spending more time with Snuffles would help you conjure your own Patronus. He's pure positive energy, after all."

          "Oh." Regulus looked away awkwardly. "I… I… just remembered that I have to find my friends. I'll head off then."

          "He's really worried about the Quidditch final, isn't he?" Sirius said as the youngest brother disappeared from view.

          Turais knew something else was amiss with Regulus, but he merely nodded in agreement.

          Accompanied by Moody, they took a stroll around the school grounds. The sun was bright, the spring flowers were in full bloom, and the Whomping Willow swatted at unassuming birds in mid-flight. However, a lingering frostiness in the air originated from the Dementors standing guard just beyond the school boundary.

          "I always imagined Snuffles would be rough and shaggy-looking like Padfoot," Sirius said as their two dog Patronuses chased each other and sniffed at everything they could find. "But he's nothing of the sort."

          Turais liked to think that Sirius's Patronus form meant his brother would never feel like a homeless stray abandoned by his family.

          "Out of curiosity, which memory did you use for the Patronus Charm?"

          "Do you remember the first winter after you started school, and we had a snowball fight in the park?" 

          "I do," Turais breathed. "You three banded together to attack me."

          "Yeah, we did," Sirius said. "That was the memory I chose. Does it surprise you?"

          Turais fell silent for a while before saying, "I remember we had loads of fun. I just didn't realise that we were creating your happiest memory…."

          "It was the best day ever…" Sirius whispered, smiling softly. "I want to do it again someday."

          "Perhaps, once Father deigns to let us out of the house again. And hope that it snows this year, unlike the past few winters."

          "Are you a wizard or not?" Sirius snapped playfully. "If you can perform a triply-nested transfiguration, surely you can conjure up some snow."

          "I'm not of age yet."

          "Like you ever let that stop you. Or Alex can do the honours —" Sirius gasped. "Merlin's beard, he's turning seventeen, isn't he? I wonder if Father has found him a watch yet! And a painter for his portrait!"

          Professor Slughorn hurried to them as they approached the castle doors and said, "Turais, my boy, you'd better follow me to the Headmaster's Office. You, as well, Sirius."

          "What's happened, sir?" asked Turais.

          "I ought to let the Headmaster relay the information… but I suppose it doesn't hurt to tell you now," Slughorn said. "Brutus Nott has been recaptured."

          "Are they certain?" Turais pressed.

          "After the arrest, Dumbledore himself identified Nott and saw to his immediate transfer to Azkaban," Slughorn replied. "I daresay it is as certain a confirmation as one could hope for."

 

***

 

          "You're late," Rookwood said off-handedly when Turais arrived for the portrait session.

          "I was summoned to the Headmaster's Office. Nott has been recaptured and sent to Azkaban." 

          Rookwood furrowed his brow slightly but otherwise remained silent.

          "I know you have thoughts about this. Go ahead," Turais said casually.

          After a long pause, Rookwood set down his paintbrush and said, "Our families were close, and Brutus… he was like a brother to me… Someone I've always greatly respected and admired." 

          Turais looked at the other boy gravely. "Are you aware that he tried to kill me twice when I was in my second year?"

          "What transpired between the two of you was regrettable," said Rookwood. "But if given the opportunity, wouldn't you try to take down the Dark Lord?"

          "That's a false equivalency. Voldemort is the initial aggressor, achieving his goals through violence and bloodshed. All of this is based on his perceived superiority of wizardkind over Muggles —"

          "But we are superior to Muggles," Rookwood said forcefully. "They relinquished their place as our equals when they turned their backs to Hecate and the old cults!"

          "If you're referring to the Fall of Muggle, that has no historical or factual basis," Turais countered. "There is also no evidence that all humans before the time of Emperor Constantine were magical."

          The Fall of Muggle was a theological doctrine perpetuated by some fringe religious groups. Believers claimed that the willful impiety of Roman Emperor Constantine and his people — the Original Apostasy —  led to their fall from divine magical favour and condemned their descendants to a loss of magic in an event known as the Eternal Mundanity. Only those who remained faithful to Hecate retained their magical powers, and all purebloods could purportedly trace their pedigree back to them.

          "The Pyramids of Duat, the Hanging Gardens of Laodicea ad astra, the Viae Romanae Milliarium network…. These are all evidence of an ancient world with advanced magic far beyond our comprehension and impossible to replicate," replied Rookwood. "The Original Apostasy did not merely affect Muggles. Their impiety obliterated two millennia of magical advancement and held us back for another millennium!"

          "Even if this were true, it still wouldn't justify their enslavement," argued Turais. 

          "Hecate granted us dominion over all non-magical beings. She knew that, without magic, Muggles lacked the essential component to access the highest orders of intelligence. Their inferior morality is evident in their uncontrolled breeding and destruction of our shared world. And since they are innately corrupt, they must be tightly controlled. Our rule over them is merely the inevitable outcome."

          Knowing Rookwood would not listen to reason on this topic, Turais changed tack. "Voldemort also wishes to segregate the wizarding population based on blood purity, an arbitrary standard determined by a single person." 

          "You may argue the details with that determination, but mixing Muggle blood with magic corrupts the mind," Rookwood replied. "It's no coincidence that the increased mixing of magical and non-magical blood has accompanied the rise of violence. Segregation is the only solution."

          "What about Muggleborns? They came into magic despite their supposed Eternal Mundanity. None of them have become violent." 

          "Those freaks originate from perverse experiments they conducted on their own kind. For those who haven't turned violent, the malediction simply hasn't manifested yet."

          Turais sat silently for a while before saying, "Then what of the blood curse that drives purebloods to commit mass murder?"

          Rookwood frowned. "What do you mean?"

          "Well, name me three Muggleborn mass murderers." When the other boy failed, Turais continued, "Emeric the Evil, Egbert the Egregious, Barnabas Deverill, Loxias, Gellert Grindelwald. All purebloods. I'm sorry to say, but we will all succumb to our curses and become mass murderers."

          "That's a ludicrous notion."

          "Of course, but it's not any more ludicrous than your claim about Muggleborns."

          Rookwood fell silent, visibly unsettled. After a long while, he pointed his wand in Turais's direction only to open the door behind him.

          "I think we're finished for today. You should leave."

          Turais knew there was no use pushing Rookwood further at this moment. He stood up solemnly and stepped out of the room. Reaching the top of the hidden staircase, he discovered that Moody awaited him.

          "Didn't expect me to know that you spent hours in painting classes with Rookwood?" asked Moody. "I take my job seriously. I am also bloody good at it."

          "Why did you let me come down here? I highly doubt this was on your list of sanctioned activities."

          "Well, I didn't say who sanctioned them," replied Moody. "Listen, Black. Now that Nott has been recaptured, I'm here to say goodbye… and to give you this."

          He handed Turais an application form titled "1974 Munich Combined Venti European Cup. Regional Qualifiers — Caurus." 

          "The practical component of the Auror entrance exams is modelled after this sport, but you didn't hear this information from me," Moody said with a wink. "Your father is also due to meet with the Headmaster tomorrow at noon if you want that permission slip signed… not that you are in any way interested, of course. Oh, and one last thing: Professor Mather and I had a chat with Madam Pomfrey. You are cleared to compete in the Quidditch final." 

          The Auror gave Turais a pat on the shoulder before walking away. 

          Later that night, as Turais patrolled the hallways with Alice, he asked her about the competition.

          "The Munich Combined Venti Qualifiers?" she asked. "I didn't know you were interested."

          "Now that Nott is recaptured, I am reconsidering my decision," Turais said by way of explanation. "Do you have the official rulebook?"

          "You're in luck," said Alice as she pulled a stack of parchments from her bag. "Frank and I were just studying up on it earlier today. We will be competing in both the Individual and Pairs events. If you decide to participate, you're welcome to train with us over the summer!"  

          "Thanks for the invitation, but I'll be in Glenfaelad for the Summer Hunt."

          "Oh! We'll be there as well!" Alice said excitedly. "Not for the Hunt, but Glenfaelad is home to one of Europe's most pristine training grounds."

          Recalling his previous conversations with Jonty and Imogen, Turais asked, "When will you travel there? I reckon I'll arrive in time for the Litha festival."

          Alice frowned. "Are you sure you didn't mistake the date?" 

          "What do you mean?"

          "Outsiders are only allowed into the Cairngorms after the Litha festival has concluded," Alice explained. "That's why you won't come across much information on it, because no outsiders have ever observed it."

          "I must have misremembered," Turais said with an easy smile. However, he was certain that the Black family annals mentioned past members observing the festival.

          "In any case, you best make up your mind soon since the application deadline is in three days," said Alice.

          The following day, Turais paced in front of the gargoyle statue, waiting for his father to finish meeting with the Headmaster. When Orion came into view, he looked at Turais knowingly and said, "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

          "There is a permission slip I need you to sign," Turais said, handing Orion the piece of parchment. 

          "Munich combined —" Orion's eyes widened. "— Why are you suddenly interested in this?"

          "Now that Nott has been recaptured, there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to participate," Turais pointed out. "I can't be confined indoors forever."

          "I know that you've flagrantly violated my orders countless times already...." muttered Orion. After another moment of hesitation, he signed the form and handed it to Turais. "Don't make me regret this." 

          "You won't," Turais promised. "By the way, Alice and Frank will be training in Glenfaelad this summer as well, and they have invited me to join them when I'm available."

          "So you've heard of your grandfather's plan then?" Orion asked wryly.

          "I've known for a while," Turais admitted. "Jonty told me at Narcissa's wedding." 

          "Ah, of course. No rumour manages to escape the Stewards, it seems."

          "There's something I've been meaning to ask," said Turais. "What happened in Glenfaelad twenty years ago?" 

          Orion turned unnaturally rigid for a split second, and his eyes looked haunted. Then, he relaxed into a smile and said, "Nothing happened. Whatever rumours you may have heard are merely an amateurish effort to incite division between our House and the Cairngorms. Turais, I really must get going now. Good luck on the Quidditch final." 

          Orion strolled off in a hurry, leaving Turais to stare at his departing father in suspicion.

 

***

 

          The students welcomed the departure of the Aurors and Dementors. However, despite the impetus to master Patronus Charm disappearing, most members of the Defence Club continued to practise it in earnest.

          "Brilliant work, Lily," Turais said when a silvery doe form erupted from her wand.

          "Thanks, Turais!" Lily replied excitedly. "I wouldn't have achieved it so quickly without your instructions, though —"

          "Gorgeous doe you've got there, Evans," a smug voice called out from behind. James strutted to them and said, "I caught a glimpse of mine earlier. It was something massive —" Lily rolled her eyes and walked away. "Evans, where are you going? Evans!"

          Turais turned his attention to Alex, who had been struggling uncharacteristically with the charm.

          " Expecto Patronum! " Alex shouted, but his wand failed to produce even the faintest wisps of vapour. "I can't do it." 

          "You're more than capable of producing the charm," Turais consoled. "It might just take more practice —"

          "Or I don't have a memory happy enough to power the spell," muttered Alex. "It's hopeless ."

          "Don't be silly," Turais said as a thought occurred to him. "I have an idea. Wait for me here at the end of the session."

          Tidying up quickly, Turais brought Alex to the Room of Requirement.

          "Can I take a look inside your mind? There's something I want to show you," Turais asked. Alex nodded. " Legilimens. "

          Sleet and frost were battering against the 12 Grimmauld Place of Alex's mind. 

          Once they found refuge inside the house, Turais focused his mind and a silver cigarette lighter materialised in his hand. With a single click, the light and walls around them started to diffuse and disintegrate until everything turned dark. 

          Suddenly, a single spark ignited, then a second, and a third…. until a scintillating galaxy of light appeared.

          Alex took an illuminated book from the nearest shelf and opened it. A ball of light floated into the air, showcasing the memory of their journey on the Knight Bus.

          Alex whispered, "I didn't realise I felt happiness even then…." 

          "It's something much more powerful than happiness," breathed Turais. "Hope — it shines even in the darkest of places. Sometimes, one simply needs to extinguish the brightest flames to be reminded of it."

          A distant light exploded like a supernova.

          "I think we have found your memory," said Turais, nudging his friend towards it. 

          While Alex examined his memory, Turais stepped out on the pavement. The skies had calmed with the sun peeking behind passing clouds. A large flock of mechanical birds had also returned to roost, chirping merrily amongst themselves.

          The front door opened behind him, and Turais asked, "Ready?" 

          His friend replied with a smile.

          Returning to the physical world, Alex attempted the charm again. This time, a stream of light erupted from his wand and slowly coalesced into a long, pointed appendage.

          "I think it's a scorpion! You should be able to conjure a fully corporeal form soon!" Turais gasped as the partially-formed Patronus dissipated. However, Alex's face fell. "What's wrong?"

          "I… I've been reading up on Patronus forms. They said that the scorpion is a symbol of treachery and deceit…." 

          "It also famously stung Orion to death," Turais said, pretending to conduct a pat-down search on his friend. "Do you have plans to murder my father?"

          Alex gave Turais a shove. "Don't laugh about it. I'm serious!"

          "I wouldn't put too much stock in those books," Turais said, turning sombre. "They're less reliable than my tasseomancy."

          "But isn't a Patronus's form supposed to reflect who we are?"

          "We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters most is the part we choose to act on," said Turais. "If you're not planning on becoming a Dark wizard, then you have nothing to worry about."

 

***

 

          Meeting Pandora at the Entrance Hall, Turais followed her to the base of the Clock Tower and into a dark, narrow corridor. As she brushed away the dangling vines and opened the door, Turais was immediately greeted by a pungent smell of saltpetre.

          "Welcome to the Spellmansonry laboratory," Pandora said. "It may be small, but it has everything we need."

          Shelves lining the walls were crammed with an array of peculiar objects - glowing crystals, tarnished metal instruments, and jars filled with curious substances that bubbled and shimmered. Workbenches were littered with half-finished experiments and piles of parchment covered in scribbled notes and complex diagrams. In the centre of the room stood a large, sturdy table. Its surface was littered with burn marks. 

          Suddenly, there was a spark, and the entire table was engulfed in flames.

          " Finite! " Pandora shouted, and the flames disappeared at once. She summoned a pot of cleaning potions and scrubbed the surface. "Sorry about that. Someone didn't clean the table thoroughly before leaving…. So, let's take a look at your spellcraft."

          Turais set the Decoy Detonator on the table, and Pandora pulled down a series of magnifying glasses from the ceiling and inspected it from behind a Shield Charm.

          "Runa Revelio," Pandora muttered while carefully dismantling the object. Runic symbols emerged in bundles and strands interwoven in an intricate pattern. "FascinatingPressure-activated… and the trigger leads to the three coiled springs, each delaying the effects by one second —"

          The door opened again as Regulus, Severus, and Barty walked in.

          "What are you doing here?" Regulus asked Turais.

          "Turais is my guest," Pandora said. "What did I tell you three about clearing all remnant spellcasting before leaving the room?! This is the last warning before your access is revoked!"

          The three boys quickly mumbled their apologies before surrounding the table.

          "What are you two looking at —?" Barty's eyes lit up at the Decoy Detonator. "I've never seen a ward like this! It's arranged in a concave disc and linked to an embedded… what charm is that?"

          "A Caterwauling Charm," Severus muttered quietly.

          "The concave ward acts as a release ward, which means the detonation is directionally focused!" Barty exclaimed. "Sev, this is the mandrake Whizz-Bangs we've been trying to make all this time!"

          "It's decent, but significant improvements can be made on the time-delay mechanism and range capability," Severus said. He turned to Pandora and asked, "How did you come up with this?"

          "Don't look at me," said Pandora, pointing at Turais. "This is all his work."

          While Severus and Barty pelted him with questions, Turais saw Regulus slip out of the room wordlessly.

          "Excuse me," Turais said before chasing after his brother. "Regulus, wait!"

          "What is it?" Regulus hissed without stopping.

          "Are you feeling —?"

          "I'm fine! Why do you keep asking me this?"

          "Because I don't think you are."

          "Then you thought wrong! And stop following me!" Regulus said before storming off.

 

***

 

          On the morning of the Quidditch Cup final, a rather dishevelled owl deposited a thick letter in Turais's hands just outside the pitch.

          It was from Carmichael Wilkins.

          "Go ahead first," Turais instructed the team before opening the envelope. It contained thirteen Quidditch match tickets and a crumpled piece of parchment.

Dear Turais, 

I hope this owl finds you well.

I was delighted when I received news that the Aurors have recaptured Nott. It must be a huge relief for you and your family to have this persistent threat neutralised. 

Per our previous correspondence, I have secured thirteen box seat tickets for the Appleby Arrows v Puddlemere United fixture on the 15th of June. I am certain this is something you can look forward to after completing your O.W.L.s.

As several of our family members and closest friends will be in attendance that day, Kaiden and I will also take the opportunity to share some exciting news. We look forward to seeing you soon, and best wishes on your O.W.L.s. We have every confidence in your success.

Regards, 

Michael

          There was a hard slap on his back as Sirius's head appeared over his shoulder.

          "Why are you standing out here —?" Then, Sirius gasped at the tickets. "Wait, are those —"

          "Turais!" Regulus walked out of the changing room. "Aren't you going to give us a pre-match briefing —"

          "It can wait!" Sirius shouted as he dragged Regulus over. "We've got tickets for Appleby away! They're only the hottest tickets in the land!"

          "I never asked him for tickets," Turais said with a frown.

          "Well, we have them, and the match is after our exams!  There's simply no excuse not to attend!" Sirius said excitedly as he counted the tickets. "Let's see… I'll bring James, Remus, and Pete along. Reggie can invite Severus, Barty, and… what's her name, Emmeline —?"

          Sirius wriggled his eyebrows, and Regulus growled, "How dare you presume who I'd —"

          "— And Turais can invite Jonty and Gerald!" said Sirius.

          "Why does Turais only get to invite two people?" demanded Regulus. "And what about Alex?"

          "I've already accounted for him," replied Sirius, waving the five tickets reserved for the family. "I know Alex shouldn't be counted as one of Turais's guests, but there's only so many tickets to go around —"

          "Then why don't you give up one of your tickets?! Why does Turais always have to accommodate your wants?" Regulus asked heatedly. Sirius's mouth gobbed like a fish. " Precisely! "

          " Regulus ," Turais warned. The younger boy glared as though daring him to refute. "Siri, we can discuss this later. Reggie and I have a game to play."

 

***

 

          To say that the Hufflepuffs outplayed the Slytherin team on every possible metric was a colossal understatement. Thirty minutes into the match, the Slytherin team was already staring at the possibility of this match being their worst defeat.

          "AND HUFFLEPUFF SCORES AGAIN! They are now one hundred and fifty points ahead of Slytherin!" Marlene announced.

          With no time to waste, Turais recovered the Quaffle and sped towards the Hufflepuff end. Spotting Harper, he lobbed the ball forward before sparing a glance at his brother, who was darting across the field with desperation displayed fully on his face.

          "Harper twirls past a Bludger. Passes to Riley. Riley back to Harp —  Macmillan intercepts!"

          Turais swore under his breath before moving in to challenge Geoffrey. However, the Hufflepuff captain swerved out of the way expertly and tossed the ball to his awaiting teammate, Rabnott. Turais immediately gave chase when a Bludger slammed into his side and sent him spiralling.

          "The shot from Murray leaves Black spinning! Rabnott. Feldcroft. Brilliant dodge! Back to Rabnott."

          As Turais chased after the Quaffle, he suddenly noticed a golden shimmer in the air. Regulus also seemed to have spotted the Snitch since he sped towards it.

          "Regulus Black has spotted the Snitch! And Nightjar has joined the chase! Meanwhile, Murray sends a Bludger that leaves Harper spinning! Quaffle back in Hufflepuff's possession! If Hufflepuff scores before Black catches the Snitch, Hufflepuff will win —" 

          "Come on, Reggie!" Turais whispered before rejoining the fray. 

          Meanwhile, the pair of Seekers climbed higher and higher into the sky until they were mere specks.

          "Macmillan dodges a Bludger from Steward. Now, only Wiccroft stands in the way!" Marlene shouted. "Wiccroft moves left, AND SHE BETS WRONG! Hufflepuff: 260. Slytherin: 100. HUFFLEPUFF LEADS BY 160 POINTS!"

          A minute later, both Seekers descended into view empty-handed. Noticing that Regulus was clutching at his stomach, Turais flew up and asked, "Reggie, are you injured —?" 

          "I'm fine!" Regulus said before shooting off into the distance.

          The match resumed, and everyone was preparing to celebrate the long-overdue Hufflepuff victory. However, Marlene shouted warningly, "Don't get ahead of yourselves! Slytherin is only behind by ten points, and I needn't remind you that the team who catches the Snitch wins in case of a draw. However, Regulus Black, Slytherin's final hope, seems to be flying around like a headless Augerey."

          Laughter rippled throughout the stadium as Regulus's flight pattern became even more erratic.

          Meanwhile, Turais chased down Geoffrey, who immediately passed the Quaffle to Rabnott. Then, a Bludger from the Hufflepuff Beater slammed into his side.

          "Rabnott readies her shot, and Wiccroft goes in for the block!"

          All eyes were following the Quaffle as it sailed towards the centre loop. Meanwhile, Turais managed to get his broom under control just in time to see Regulus crash into Geoffrey. A glint of gold shot out from beneath Regulus's robe, and immediately, the Slytherin Seeker gestured for Mister William's attention.

          "Rabnott makes it two hundred and seventy points!" Marlene shouted. "Slytherin will need a miracle to win now —" 

          "You despicable cheat!" Geoffrey screamed as Turais flew between the two and gave the Hufflepuff a hard shove. 

          "Back off, Geoffrey!" Turais roared. "What do you think you are doing —"

          Turais spotted the Snitch in Geoffrey's hand. Then he turned to see Regulus's panic-stricken expression.

          "WAIT!" Marlene shouted frightfully. "Macmillan is holding an idle Snitch!"

          The cheers were quickly replaced with uneasy murmurs as Mister Williams ordered the players to land. Both teams stood in separate huddles as they watched the referee cast a complex charm on the Snitch.

          Meanwhile, Turais's entire body felt numb as his mind replayed the moment Regulus crashed into Geoffrey in excruciating detail.

          Suddenly, a dense, blue shadow split from the Snitch and flew towards Geoffrey, landing at a particular spot on the ball of his thumb. Mister Williams pointed his wand to his throat and announced, "It's a Snitchnip."

          There was a stunned silence. 

          Then, an angry buzzing mixed with a smattering of cheers erupted in the Slytherin stands. The Slytherin team immediately huddled around Regulus in relief while the Hufflepuffs surrounded Mister Williams.

          "We were winning!" Geoffrey shouted angrily. "Why would I commit the foul?!"

          Mister Williams raised his arms and said, "The laws of the game clearly state that the team committing the Snitchnip forfeits the match, regardless of intent —" 

          "I demand a rematch!" Geoffrey said immediately.

          Both teams started shouting profanities and insults at each other, and Mister Williams blew his whistle. Pointing at the two captains, he roared, "Black. Macmillan. In my office. NOW!" 

          Once behind closed doors, Mister Williams said, "I did not see what transpired between Mr Black and Mr Macmillan. However, both captains must agree to a rematch for it to occur. Otherwise, the current decision stands. I will give you five minutes to discuss."

          "That's not necessary," Turais said slowly, desperately trying not to let his panic show. "I agree to a rematch."

          Mister Williams looked surprised. "Mr Black, are you certain?"

          "Yes." 

          After Mister Williams left the room to deliver the verdict, Geoffrey said, "Thank you, Turais. But I think you ought to know what your brother did —"

          "I saw what he did," Turais whispered shakily. "But Geoffrey, there is something I wish to ask of you —"

          "I know," Geoffrey said quietly. "I will not repeat what happened to anyone else. You have my word."

          Turais gave him a pinched smile before returning to the pitch. As he walked towards the team, he could feel the weight of hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him. His legs felt like blocks of lead, and each step felt like walking through molasses. There was an incessant buzz pressed against his eardrums, and his entire body shook at each pounding of his heart.

          However, when he saw Regulus, the panic was replaced with a numbing calmness.

          "Regulus, follow me. The rest of you, please stay here."

          The two brothers entered the changing room, and a heavy silence settled between them. Regulus looked up at Turais, nervousness flickering in his eyes. "Turais? What's the matter? We need to find Mister Williams and cancel the rematch —"

          "Regulus, why did you do it?" Turais whispered.

          "What's wrong?" Regulus said, his voice trembling. "You're scaring me —" 

          "You had the Snitch since Hufflepuff took the 160-point lead. You tricked Geoffrey into a Snitchnip," Turais said, his voice rising with anger. "Do you deny any of it?"

          Regulus sucked in a shuddering breath. "Listen, Turais. I —"

          "Why did you do it?" demanded Turais. "Answer me! WHY?"

          Regulus met his brother's gaze. The avoidant eyes were now flashing with defiance. "I don't understand why any of this pertains to the matter at hand —"

          "It has everything to do with this!" Turais interrupted. "You are a Seeker. Your job is to catch the Snitch —"  

          "You're wrong!" Regulus said, growing angrier as well. "My job is to win us the match, and I'm not afraid to think outside the box!" 

          "Do you hear yourself?!" Turais shouted, his fists trembling with rage and disappointment. "This is Quidditch! There is no need for such foul deception. And victory must never be prioritised above character and integrity —"

          "I didn't force Geoffrey to take the Snitch! What I did was not against the laws of the game! I DID NOTHING WRONG!"

          "If you truly believe that, get the megaphone and tell everyone what you did!" 

          Regulus scoffed, his eyes narrowing.

          "I know what this conversation is truly about. You think that I stole their win. You think they deserve the Cup more than we do. But we reached the finals as well! We deserve to win as much as they do! I DESERVE TO WIN IT FOR THE TEAM!"

          Turais stumbled backwards, stunned by his brother's words.

          "When did you become like this?" 

          "You're the one who's changed!" Regulus screamed. "You always said you wanted to watch me succeed! This was my moment to shine, and you took it away from me!" 

          "I want you to succeed, but in the proper way!"

          Regulus sneered, "Faultless Turais always needs everything done his way ."

          Turais shook his head in disgust. "Until you realise your mistake, you are no longer the Seeker nor part of the House team —" 

          "It is because you are not the hero this time, isn't it?" Regulus interrupted.

          Each word was a knife twisting into Turais's chest. He felt the air leave his lungs, and the sting of betrayal penetrated his very core.

          "What?" Turais gasped incredulously. 

          "Ever since I was born, everything has been about you!" Regulus spat bitterly.

          "Get out!"

          "Name something, and he can do it better! I hate it! I hate all of it!" screamed Regulus.

          Turais felt the hot rush of rage surge through him, and he let out a thunderous roar: "GET OUT!"

          The door of Regulus's locker ripped apart, and its contents spilt out at his younger brother's feet. Regulus's eyes flickered with fear before he steeled his expression once more.

          " Accio! " Regulus summoned all the items into his bag and left. Pausing at the doorway, he said, "I wish you would act like my brother sometimes, not just Sirius's."

Notes:

‘Oof ouch owie my brotherly fluff’ — initial reaction from my beta reader.

Quidditch. Non-date. Exciting duel. Dog Patronus walking. Wizarding Religion. Occlumency. Wizarding Sports besides Quidditch. Spellcrafting. More Quidditch. Promises of even more Quidditch. Fight.

This chapter literally has everything.

By the way, anyone know where can I work as a Dog Patronus walker? Asking for a friend…

See you soon!

- ravenclawblues 2024-08-21

Chapter 83: Interlude - Fifth Year in Review

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Here is a new update, and with this, Year 5 comes to a close! I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, and thank you for all the support!

- ravenclawblues 2024-09-20

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

INTERLUDE – FIFTH YEAR IN REVIEW


 

           Despite both captains' concerted efforts to downplay the incident, the Snitchnip controversy sparked a maelstrom of speculation in the week leading up to the rematch. The most prominent theories emerging from the rumour mill were uncomfortably close to the truth.

          "I'm already trying my best to steer opinions in the other direction," Jonty whispered as the trio hurried down the hall, surrounded by inquisitive stares. 

           Suddenly, Turais's nose twitched, and he spotted Regulus from afar. Without a second thought, he dragged Jonty and Alex to a secluded courtyard, where he plopped onto the ground.

          "That's why everyone can guess what happened, when you keep reacting like that!" Jonty exclaimed. 

          "Will you let up?" Alex asked, wrapping his arm around Turais protectively.

          Jonty sighed heavily. "Look, mate, I get it — this whole situation is a bloody mess, and Regulus can be a right git sometimes, truth be told. But surely you can sit down with him and talk things through?"

         Turais let out a humourless laugh. 

         "He's talked plenty, alright. Accused me of being jealous of his success and… and…." He shook his head in frustration. "And I lied to Sirius yesterday. He still believes Regulus is innocent, and I hadn't the heart to tell him the truth."

         "Regulus crossed the line this time," Alex added. "Turais shouldn't be the one to make amends."

         Jonty frowned, his gaze shifting between the two.

         "Alex, I understand you're trying to look out for Turais, but Regulus is young. This incident occurred in front of the entire school. He was probably scared and defensive —"

          "But that doesn't excuse what he said!" Alex interjected. "Turais is not at fault here, and he most certainly is not responsible for his brother's feelings of inadequacy."

          "I'm not excusing Regulus's behaviour. But they've always been close," said Jonty. "You saw him just now. He looked remorseful. Perhaps a little concession from Turais could go a long way —"

          "He didn't appear remorseful to me," said Alex. "And he has consistently refused to communicate with Turais when given the opportunity. I don't see why he would change now." 

          "You don't know that for certain."

          "And you do?" Alex asked sharply. "I know him better than you do, considering I live with them."

          Jonty narrowed his eyes at Alex. "I think Turais should decide."

          After a long moment, Turais said, "I… I'll wait until he approaches me —" The clock tower chimed. Turais stood up and rubbed his face tiredly. "Let's go. We're late for the tutorial."

          As Alex moved to follow after Turais, Jonty reached out to stop him.

          "What?" snapped Alex.

          "I…" Jonty took a glance at Turais's departing figure and shook his head. "It's nothing."

          

***

 

           The Quidditch final rematch opened to a muted atmosphere, as many spectators viewed it more as a belated coronation ceremony for Hufflepuff, who had convincingly defeated Slytherin the previous week before the Snitchnip. Therefore, when Turais caught the Snitch just fifteen minutes into the match, some boos emerged from the Hufflepuff section. However, their Quidditch team quickly flew over to urge calm, and the dissent faded. 

           Turais's teammates embraced him in jubilation, but Turais merely stared at the idle Snitch with a bitter taste in his mouth. He quickly extracted himself from the celebratory huddle, only to be stopped by Geoffrey. 

         "Good game, Turais," said the Hufflepuff captain. In a lower tone, he said, "And never play as Chaser ever again. I mean it."

         Turais could only muster a strained smile.

         After the Cup presentation, the boisterous Slytherin team chattered about their plans for celebration as Turais headed for the showers.

          "Where are you going?" Harper asked. "Aren't you coming to the party?" 

          "You go ahead first. I'll be there in a minute."

          Turais shrugged off his clothes and turned on the water, hot steam quickly filling the small space. As he began to lather his hair with shampoo, the door rattled open behind him. Turais didn't spare the intruder a single glance as he continued scrubbing, already knowing who it was instinctively.

          After a long pause, Regulus said, "Congratulations on the win."

          "You shouldn't be here," Turais said impassively.

          Regulus let out a frustrated sound. "I'm part of the team —"

          "You were ."

          " I'm sorry ," Regulus gritted out.

          Turais studied his brother for a long moment before looking away in disappointment. "Are you?"

          "Do you have any idea what the others are saying behind my back? Do you not even care?" asked Regulus. At Turais's silence, he aimed his wand at the tap and turned it off. "You're right, I'm not sorry. I did what was necessary for us to win, and I don't care what others think!"

          "If you're finished, leave," Turais said, turning the water on again.

          "Do you have nothing to say to me?" demanded Regulus. 

          "You don't care what others think. Have you already forgotten?" asked Turais.

          Stung by the remark, Regulus's features tightened into a sneer. "That's fine. Besides, I've heard all I needed since you were the one behind those rumours —"

          Turais strode forward and growled, " How dare you. "

          A swirl of emotions flickered across Regulus's face — fear, anger, and, strangely, relief. "Well… I… I mean… everyone heard the rumours from —"

          However, Turais cut him off with a dangerously low voice.

          " Leave. "

          There were a series of hurried footsteps, and Jonty appeared at the doorway, eyeing them warily.

          "Please escort him outside," Turais growled at Jonty. " Now! "

          "Come on." Jonty dragged Regulus away, but not before the younger boy threw something on the floor with a splatter. 

          It was a torn Quidditch league ticket. 

          Once they left, Turais stumbled back under the cascading water, allowing it to hide his frustrated tears.

 

***

 

          For the next two weeks, Turais went numbly through the motions of his O.W.L.s. Fortunately, no one thought much of it, as most assumed the stress had finally taken its toll on their brightest member.

          "Poor Thistlewood completely lost her head," Jonty said as they left their final O.W.L. exam. "She pointed her wand at the box, and it exploded. If it were a real dark artefact, we would all be dead…."

          As they ascended the stairs, Turais noticed Severus and Barty in a nearby corridor, casting tentative glances his way. He excused himself and approached them.

          "What's the matter?"

          The boys exchanged hesitant looks. 

          Then, Severus nudged Barty, who bit his lip and pressed two Quidditch tickets into Turais's hands. 

          "Sev and I have decided not to go to the match." 

          "Are you sure?" Turais asked, frowning. 

          The boys averted their gazes, and Severus mumbled, "Barty invited us — I mean — me to his house that day to search for albino Chizpurfles…." 

          Turais sighed. "I know you two are trying to be supportive, but simply because my brother decided against attending the match doesn't mean —" 

           "Please don't make us choose," Barty pleaded.

           At Turais's resigned nod, they breathed a sigh of relief. As they turned to leave, Turais added, "Keep him out of trouble for me, will you?" 

          The two boys nodded.

 

***

 

          After several weeks of absence, Turais entered the detention chamber for the usual portrait-sitting session. Unlike previous sessions, he noticed the easel was covered.

          Rookwood stood up in shock. "You're back." 

          "I was busy with my exams, but I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it," Turais replied. 

          "Even after all that was said last time?" Rookwood asked, and Turais nodded. "Why?" 

          "For the same reason why I stopped Pierricoeur from attacking you on the train, why I helped Crouch avoid being forced to do your bidding, and why I oppose Voldemort's plans," Turais explained.

           As he sat down in his usual spot, Rookwood said, "Actually, I've finished all my commissions already." 

          "Oh?" 

          Just as Turais wondered what to say, Rookwood added, "Would you like to see it? The portrait, I mean…." 

          A glimmer of anticipation shone in Rookwood's eyes as he lifted the cloth. Turais marvelled at the familiar face Rookwood had painted in painstaking detail: rebellious strands of jet-black hair swaying slightly over his right eyebrow, the clenching of his jaw as if he was biting down a grin, and eyes in the exact shades of emerald green.

          It was a true enchanted portrait.

          "Have I been sitting for this the entire time?" Turais asked. Rookwood nodded. "What about your commissions?" 

          "I completed them when you weren't here. You may not care for pureblood traditions, but I do. It's bad luck not to own your first portrait," Rookwood said. Turais turned in surprise. "It's yours if you want it."

          "But… why?"

          "Everyone else had turned their backs on me, and I thought it would be preferable to have some company for a change…." Rookwood's gaze fell to the floor, his voice barely a whisper. "I know your intentions, but you're wasting your time."

          "Rookwood, I approached you because everyone deserves a second chance, and I saw past the persona you've constructed."

           "You don't understand. Even if you're right, they're my friends. My family! I can't abandon them, even if I see cracks in their beliefs."

          "Sometimes, family isn't about blood or loyalty," Turais argued. "It's about who supports you and allows you to be yourself. Do they truly support you or wish to control you?"

          Rookwood clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger surfacing. "You don't know them! They've always been there for me, even if it's not in the way you think." 

          "They persuaded you and your friends to become criminals. You've already committed theft and extorted your fellow schoolmates," Turais countered. "What's next? Murder? Do you wish to end up in Azkaban like Brutus Nott?"

          "But if I walk away, they'll see me as a traitor! I'll lose everything I've ever known." Rookwood's voice trembled. "I'll be left with nothing."

          "Or maybe you'll find something far more valuable: your own freedom." 

          "You make it sound so simple," Rookwood huffed mirthlessly. "Walk away, and everything will be fine!"

          "You don't have to rush the process. Take small steps, and soon, you'll find people who truly care about you and want you to grow. You will realise then that those are the relationships worth fighting for."

          "You truly believe that?"

          "I do," Turais said unwaveringly. "And you have my support. You're not in this alone."

          Rookwood fell silent for a long while. Then, he whispered, "I… I'll think about it."

          Turais saw a spark of resolve in Rookwood's gaze, and he hoped it indicated a slow change of heart had taken root.

 

***

 

          During the end-of-term feast, Turais offered the Quidditch match tickets to his fellow House captains. Geoffrey, a devoted Appleby Arrows fan, was beyond ecstatic, exclaiming that it felt almost as good as winning the Inter-House Quidditch Cup. 

          As the group made their way to Hogsmeade Station, Turais breathed in the refreshing scents of blooming heather carried on the crisp, cool air. However, there was also a subtle earthy scent reminiscent of petrichor which created a sense of unease he could not quite place.

          Suddenly, Remus and Peter whipped past him on brooms, followed closely by Sirius and James.

          "No flying on school grounds!" shouted Pearson, flashing her polished badge, but no one was listening.

          Kreacher was already at the station when they arrived. They kept their brooms and handed over their remaining belongings to the house-elf, who vanished with a snap of his fingers.

          Instead of boarding the Hogwarts Express, they entered the waiting room. A group of students had already gathered, Edgar among them, dressed as archers in matching pale blue robes — the home colours of the Appleby Arrows.

          When Turais entered, they shot a barrage of silver arrows into the air, which transformed into a string of words: "Appleby Arrows, shooting for the win!" 

          A customary round of boos quickly followed. Edgar gestured at Turais's plain robes and asked, "Where's your Puddlemere pride?" 

          "Left it behind in Portree, apparently," Turais replied with a tired grin. "We've got box seat tickets in the home stands, so I figured I should try to blend in at least." 

          Edgar let out a whistle. "How did you manage that?"

          "Gifts from Carmichael Wilkins himself!" shouted Sirius proudly.

          "Ah, you are forgiven if the tickets are from the man himself," Edgar said dramatically. "Wilkins has been such a revelation this season. Best Beater for us in a long time." 

          As the students chattered excitedly amongst themselves, Turais wandered over to Alex, who was studying the departure board intently.

 

10:00 — London King's Cross

Hogwarts Express

Calling at: London King's Cross only

*Hogwarts Students and Staff only

 

10:17 — Dubris/Dover 

Via Britannia

Calling at: Veluniate/Carriden, Luguvalium/Carlisle, Brovacum/Penrith, Eboracum/York, Lindum Colonia/Lincoln, Duroliponte/Cambridge, Londinium/London (King's Cross), Durovernum/Canterbury, Dubris/Dover

 

10:24 — Cragcroft

Hogsmeade Valley Railway

Calling at: Keenbridge, Bainburgh, Cragcroft

 


          "What has you so mesmerised?" asked Turais.

          "I was merely wondering why these stations are written in Latin," Alex said.

          "It's because their names are based on the location of Roman forts along the Milliarium network," explained Turais. 

          " Milliarium… as in milestones?"

          "Yes. When Gringotts started building its London branch about two centuries ago, their curse breakers uncovered sites containing intricate, long-forgotten magic. They discovered that when the ancient Romans built their road network, the magical community embedded transportation wards within the mile markers to form a parallel network of passages that ran alongside the major Muggle roads."

          "So… one can use the network and travel all the way to… say, Istanbul?" asked Alex.

          "You mean Constantinopolis," Turais corrected jokingly. "And you can travel much further than that. They're expanding service into Egypt next year, and as the curse breakers at InterVia continue to excavate new routes, anywhere that was once under ancient Roman control should become accessible."

          "Excavate? Can't they simply expand the network?"

          "Well, no one has quite managed to recreate the wards used."

          The door swung open once more. Mrs Crouch entered while Severus, Barty, and Regulus remained rooted outside awkwardly. 

          "Come on in, boys. Now, don't be shy." Mrs Crouch said as she looked around. "I didn't expect so many of you here —"

          She blinked at the sight of Turais, then at Regulus, as confusion took hold.

          "Regulus was a plonker and misplaced his ticket. That’s why he’s in a bit of a state," Sirius whispered loudly into her ear, and neither brother corrected him.

          "Ah, that’s most unfortunate," Mrs Crouch gave Regulus a consoling pat. "You can catch the game on the wireless while we head down south." 

          "Where do you live, Mrs Crouch?" asked Turais casually.

          "Broomfield. We’re interchanging at Cambridge for Via Devana to Colchester —" Just then, the sound of an approaching train cut through the air. "Ah, the train is here! Let's get ready to board, shall we?"

          For the entire train ride, Turais tried to push aside his worries about his youngest brother, which was made easier by the large group of match-goers who boarded at the next station. The rugged Scottish landscape gradually gave way to expansive green fields and gently rolling hills. After a delay at Carlisle station, where the conductor had to magically extend the carriages to accommodate the crowd, the train continued to steam alongside the busy motorway (its presence undetected by the Muggle drivers) until they rumbled into a dark tunnel.

          "Attention, ladies and gentlemen. We are now approaching Brovacum — Penrith," the train conductor announced. "Please ensure you have all your belongings and be ready to disembark. To minimise Muggle's attention, form small groups of no more than four and allow several seconds between groups when exiting through the barriers. For those exiting on brooms, please proceed to the well barrier. Thank you."

          Moments later, the train crawled to a stop in a dimly lit subterranean station that resembled an excavation site, with exposed stone walls and flickering lanterns casting eerie shadows across the uneven floor. 

          Orion was waiting at the station when they disembarked, scowling at a stumbling group of intoxicated men.

          "Where's Regulus?" Orion asked as Turais approached him.

          Turais nodded towards the train, and Orion strode briskly forward to exchange words with his son through the window until the train departed. By then, the line for the exit barriers had largely dissipated.

          They walked into a small, circular chamber that was the bottom of an abandoned well. Far above them was a view of the sky through a rusted metal mesh.

          Turais mounted his broom and helped Alex climb on behind him.

          "Hold on!" Turais said. With Alex's arms wrapped tightly around him, he kicked off, passing through the metal mesh as if it were non-existent, then into the open air. From above, Brougham Castle stood majestically against the lush green landscape, its weathered stone towers and fortifications rising proudly amidst sprawling fields and winding rivers.

          "Let's head for the clouds," Walters shouted, clasping on her flight goggles as she flew by.

          To their right, James was dangling beneath his broom and doing one-handed pull-ups with a challenging smirk.

          "Well, watch this!" Sirius replied, standing on his broomstick and executing a perfect backflip.

          As he basked in the enthusiastic applause, Orion bellowed angrily from below, "Sirius! Sit down!" Sirius made a face and shot off into the distance, but Orion swiftly caught up and pulled his son into a headlock. "It would be wise to be on your best behaviour, young man, or you will find yourself walking back to London!" 

          After a few rounds of energetic chants, Geoffrey announced their arrival. Moments later, their brooms shuddered as they passed through the protective enchantments around the stadium.

          The Appleby Arrows Stadium was shaped like a giant archery target. Multiple concentric blue rings of stands encircled the oval Quidditch pitch. Narrow shafts of silver viewing towers jutted from the lower stands and were topped with rows of colourful, plush viewing boxes that resembled fletchings on arrows.

          They descended onto the landing platform beside their box as the Puddlemere United fans began a roaring rendition of their main fan chant.

Puds are going up the league,

We're P.U.Q.C.

We're gonna win the league!

          The Appleby Arrows fans immediately answered with a competing chant:

Go drown in your bowl! 

Puddlemere's a total stink,

Down Lane's where you'll sink.

          "That's a strange retort," Alex said, frantically taming his wind-swept hair.

          "It's because our home stadium is built on marshes and called Down Lane Bowl. Drowning Bowl," explained Turais as the waiters came over with drinks and refreshments.

          "Anything for you, sir?" the waiter asked Orion, gesturing at his tray. "I have meads from Pommel and Bungbarrel —" 

          Orion looked visibly ill at the offerings, prompting Turais to interrupt, "Perhaps later."

          "Thank you, Turais," Orion whispered. "I will be back in a moment."

          Seeing their father's departure, Sirius immediately sidled towards a pair of wizards in purple robes standing nearby.

          "Wendelin, I'm a big fan of yours!" Sirius gasped excitedly, unbuttoning his robes to reveal the Puddlemere United shirt beneath. "Are you airing right now? May I join?"

          "Well, I don't see why not," Wendelin grinned, signalling his partner to start recording. He held a candlestick phone transmitter to his mouth and placed the receiver to his ear. In a boisterous, over-enthusiastic tone, he announced, "Welcome back to Boggy Pitches, the top-rated fan wireless program for Puddlemere United. We are joined today by a young Pud. Please tell us your name."

          Sirius wrestled the mouthpiece towards him and shouted excitedly, "Sirius Black! I'm so excited to be here, Wendelin. Up the shaggin' Puds!"

          "Indeed! So Sirius, are you ready to play a game?" asked the host.

          "I was afraid you wouldn't ask!"

          "Since you're an avid follower of the program, you must know the following segment, Puddle Prattle —, "

          " Mud and Drizzle! " Sirius finished.

          "Ten seconds on the clock. Three correct answers for the win. The theme is cockney rhymes. Ready?" An hourglass appeared above Sirius, who was rubbing his palms together eagerly. "Apples and pears —"

          "Stairs!"

          "Correct! Bubble and squeak."

          "Er… speak?"

          "Correct! Last one, Tit for tat —"

          "Er… Erm…." 

          "Come on, Sirius, don't leave us hanging —" 

          Suddenly, the hourglass blared out a klaxon noise as it transfigured into a bucket, which flipped over and covered Sirius in mud. Then, it morphed into a tiny, enchanted cloud and doused him in a cascade of freezing water.

          "Ah… so close!" said Wendelin with an exaggerated tone of sympathy. "As a consolation, here's an Appleby scarf to wipe off the mud. Better luck next time! But before I let you go. Score predictions?"

          "Puds win seven hundred to four! Jauncey scores three centuries, Hammond with a screamer from the midfield line, and Worlidge with the catch at the fortieth minute! You heard it here first!"

          "Can't argue with that!" Wendelin chuckled. "It's been a pleasure, Sirius."

          Wendelin and his partner returned to their regularly scheduled program. A few moments later, Orion returned to the sight of his mud-covered son.

          "I — What happened to you?" Orion thundered. "I've left you for one minute!"

          As Orion fussed over Sirius, Turais was suddenly enveloped in a tight, one-armed hug from behind.

         "Rais! Have you missed me?"

         "Kaiden —!" Turais exclaimed as the other man waved his hand in front of his face with intent. Noticing the gleaming knot of silver lines twisted around Kaiden's ring finger — a Betrothal Vow — he added, "Congratulations!"

         "Thank you!" Kaiden replied, a broad smile lighting up his face. "How have you been?"

         "Busy," replied Turais. 

         "I bet you have. Now, I have an important question." Kaiden leaned in with a smirk. "Will you be coming to our wedding with a guest —?" Turais pretended to reach for his wand. "Alright, alright! Message received. Listen, Michael and I would love for you to be one of our ushers." 

          Turais's eyes widened in surprise. "Of course! I'd be honoured!"

          After catching up and chatting longer, Kaiden's expression suddenly turned serious.

          "There is another matter I would like to discuss. You may not be aware of this, but Michael suffered from a lot of abuse when his father's crimes came to light. He worries that his sister Gratiana will be in a similar situation once she starts school at Hogwarts this September. We've considered enrolling her in Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny, but Michael couldn't bear the thought of her being so far away from home...."

          Turais nodded solemnly. "I promise to watch over her. Don't worry."

          "Thank you, Turais. It means a lot to us."

          Just then, Charlus approached them, a friendly grin on his face. 

          "Turais! It's so good to see you."

          "Aren't you supposed to greet your son first?" Kaiden huffed in annoyance.

          "We see each other almost every day," Charlus replied dryly. "By the way, your mum said Coit Alley is a hard no —"

          "Dad, for the last time, we're not doing anything like that!" Kaiden groaned. "And you're still not invited to my stag do!"

          "Why not? I could give you lads a tip or two on how to have a proper night out —"

          "I'm not listening!" Kaiden shouted, plugging his ears and marching off. 

          "Where are you going?" Charlus called out, laughter in his voice. 

          A raucous swell of cheers erupted around them as the Puddlemere United team took to the skies amidst their new anthem, "Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here." The Appleby Arrows followed closely with their competing anthem, "A Silver Sky Where Arrows Soar ," to the familiar tune of "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love."

          Amidst the noise of the match starting, Charlus took on a sober expression, leaned in, and whispered, "We need to talk." He steered Turais towards the winding staircase, descending to the lower stands as everyone else headed onto the balcony.

          "I have spoken with Alastor recently," said Charlus casually. "He believes you are a future Head Auror in the making."

          "I'm afraid I have no such ambitions," Turais replied.

          "Yet your actions would suggest otherwise," Charlus said. "According to my sources, a mutiny is brewing within Voldemort's ranks over his continued failure to secure an alliance with Lucius Malfoy. And your name was mentioned as a potential cause for the breakdown of those negotiations."

          Turais weighed his words carefully.

          "I've always been vocal in my opposition to Voldemort and his brand of terrorism, but I'm afraid I have no involvement in this particular instance."

          "Is that so?" Charlus said, guiding them towards where the fan chants were loudest. "Listen, I asked Michael to send you those tickets."

          "What do you mean —"

          "Act natural," Charlus hissed, keeping an effortless smile on his face. Stopping just before the noise became overwhelming, Charlus discreetly cast a Muffliato with its buzzing sound masked by the cacophony. "What I'm about to tell you will require utmost discretion. Am I understood?"

          Turais nodded, and Charlus held out a Potions textbook with various brewing instructions. The moment he handed it over, the letters rearranged to become copies of internal Auror documents — materials that were likely obtained without proper authorisation.

          "Ever since I took on the investigation of the murders surrounding the Chief Warlock election, I've drawn the attention of those eager to keep their misdeeds hidden. That's why they've attempted to dispose of me, not once, but twice," said Charlus, glancing at the pitch as the match unfolded. "Do you remember the day of the warehouse explosion?" 

          "Difficult not to." Turais flipped to an old newspaper clipping with a timeline titled "DEADLY EXPLOSION IN HOGSMEADE: 10 Minutes of Terror Ends With 3 Deaths and Multiple Injuries." 

          "There were not one, but two Auror distress signals sent that day," explained Charlus as the crowd erupted in cheers for an Appleby goal. "Turais, you cast the second signal, but my team mobilised in response to the first signal."

          Turais recalled the report caused ample confusion at the time, but he had soon been caught up in the controversy surrounding Minchum's memory and had subsequently forgotten the issue. 

          "I stand by my testimony. No one cast a distress signal prior to my arrival," said Turais.

          "And you would be correct. The Auror distress signal was generated from within the Auror dispatch centre —"

          Turais frowned. "You don't mean to suggest…."  

          "That someone deliberately sabotaged my team by sending us to the site of an imminent explosion? Yes, I do," said Charlus grimly. "Soon after this discovery, I was accused of insurrection and sedition. And after the entire rigmarole, all the blame was placed squarely at Wilkins's feet, who was found dead in his home. Convenient, don't you think? It was then that I knew this plot ran far deeper than my greatest imagination. Even if Wilkins was involved, he could not have achieved all this alone. I grew cautious and bid my time, hoping to catch the true perpetrator when they struck again."  

          Charlus flipped to the next case report. 

          "The murder of Lord Hardwin Prince," breathed Turais.

          "I oversaw the investigation of this case. Eyewitness accounts from the Cackling Stump pub reported that a heavily intoxicated Lord Prince instigated a verbal altercation with Master Lufkin. Lord Prince was subsequently expelled from the premises and later found dead in the back alley of a neighbouring pub, the Galloping Horse. Lufkin was the primary suspect as thaumaturgical analysis revealed the lethal Cutting Curse cast on the victim was an exact match with Lufkin's magical signature and the wand found at the crime scene. However, the origin of that wand was unknown, and Master Lufkin's own wand had never been recovered. We also extracted the memory from Master Lufkin's mind. His memory was completely intact until he entered the Cackling Stump, which is when it went blank. As he did not show any signs of being placed under the influence of the Imperius Curse or memory-altering spell, the forensic team was forced to conclude that it was due to severe drunkenness."

          "Drunkenness does not result in such a clean break in one's memory," said Turais.

          "I agree. And stranger still, close acquaintances of Lord Prince disclosed that he had abstained from alcohol consumption for nearly two years, and the autopsy found no evidence that he ingested alcohol that day. If that is true, why would Lord Prince appear intoxicated at the Cackling Stump? But with overwhelming evidence and as the lone viable suspect, Master Lufkin was found guilty without much fanfare," continued Charlus. "Then came the hunting incident in Snowdonia."

          "I remember that well," Turais said immediately. "Lord Mothersille and his son died in an attack by Welsh Greens because they were carrying scented bait. It was very odd, considering they were both seasoned hunters."

          "Precisely. They must have known the risks of carrying this type of bait through dragon territory. If they were unaware, where did they acquire those baits? The brand found at the site stopped manufacturing baits two decades ago. But without any potential leads, their deaths were deemed an unfortunate accident." Charlus flipped to the final case report. "Two months after that incident was a case that you are intimately familiar with…." 

          "Master Thorne. Parádeisos…" Turais whispered as realisation dawned upon him. "You believe someone has been systematically eliminating families with hereditary seats in the Wizengamot?"

          Charlus nodded.

          "But most of these victims were closely aligned with Voldemort. It is unlikely that he was behind these murders," said Turais.

          "These plots run too deep and sophisticated to be the work of that madman." Charlus paused, lowering his voice further. "Whoever this person is, they are entrenched within the very fabric of the Ministry and able to sow their deeds in plain sight. It makes them a great deal more dangerous than the threat posed by Voldemort."

          "But who else could it be?" asked Turais.

          "Who stands to benefit the most from their demise?"

          Turais's mind raced through the recent deaths. All lords and heirs connected to Malfoy's coalition. The apparent benefactor of this diminishing faction would be… 

          "You suspect my grandfather has a hand in this!" When Charlus did not protest the assertion, Turais continued angrily, "Lord Selwyn was my grandfather's greatest ally in the Wizengamot. Why in Merlin's name would he have him killed?"

          "I do not have all the answers, and I took no pleasure in reaching this conclusion," Charlus said. "However, the evidence seems to point in that direction. And the truth is few are capable of orchestrating such a complex and well-concealed plot. Your grandfather is a powerful and influential man —"

          "No, you are mistaken," Turais retorted. "My grandfather is many things, but a murderer? I won't accept this. Not without any concrete proof."

          "Which is why I am asking for your help," said Charlus.

          Turais's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

          "You wish for me to spy on my own grandfather."

          "Not spy, Turais. Investigate. If he is innocent, we must find the real culprit. The Ministry is ill-equipped to counter two threats at once," Charlus said. "You are my best chance at uncovering the truth behind these murders. Please consider my proposition carefully."

          They fell into an awkward silence as another wave of cheers erupted around them. This time, the sounds were markedly different — the shouts and triumphant chants were sustained and intertwined, creating a cacophony of pure, unbridled euphoria that shook the very foundations of the stadium.

          Then, a singular chant for Catherine Westermont, Appleby Arrows's Seeker, emerged.

          "I suppose this means goodbye," Charlus sighed, and the book pages reverted to potions recipes. "Before I leave, there is one more thing you should know. I have received credible information that Voldemort plans to infiltrate the Cairngorms. I do not know the details of his plot or intentions, but the devils may already be within their borders by the time you arrive. Dark times lie ahead. Stay vigilant, and keep your friends close."

          Turais returned to the box alone and spotted Jonty standing at the doorway with his ear pressed against the wireless. 

          "Why are you out here —?" Turais began, but Jonty immediately shushed him. 

          It was then that Turais recognised Arcturus's voice emanating from the speaker.

          "— After months of extensive discussions and careful deliberation, it has become apparent that Minister Jenkins no longer holds the confidence of this esteemed chamber. It is with great regret that I move for a vote of no confidence in the Minister for Magic."

 

Notes:

Hope you were paying close attention to current events like Turais was... (hint: 41, 43, 44, 48, 49, 55, 56, 72, 74)

InterVia Milliarium network is my Roman Empire.

See you soon!

- ravenclawblues 2024-09-20

Chapter 84: A Midsummer's Dream

Notes:

Hey everybody,

This update took longer than anticipated as things have been a bit hectic (I have defended my thesis, graduated, and started a new job)! Thank you for all the wonderful comments and for continuing to support this story!

And a big thank you to my beta reader for their hard work! Aeroway, I couldn't have done it without you!

- ravenclawblues 2024-12-22

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

A MIDSUMMER'S DREAM


 

Appendix VIII - Excerpt from Gentle Musings of Phineas Licorus Black: A Summer Reverie, 1894

          "How refreshing!" thought I, as my carriage flew over the last bit of London rooftop, headed due north, to be allowed to breathe the fresh air with the future laying all before me. The past, with some few exceptions, about which I shall remain silent, was a dull and dreary reminiscence. In every sense of the word (I confess it with shame), I was bored. I was weary of the House and all those in it. My friendships had become tiresome, my love had grown cold, and the goblins were overdrawn — what was to be done?

          "O rus, quando te aspiciam! [1] " had long been the desire of my heart. I looked forward to the bracing breeze playing over the wild mountains of Scotland, whither I was bound; and my thoughts were of the unrivalled feats to be performed at the expense of sundry enormous nogtails and innumerable jobberknolls. I was armed at all points. Two of Acajor's hunting staves were only my principal weapons. Another pair of staves, boxes of wadding, traps, a game suitcase for trophy creatures, and all the varied implements of destruction, filled up every nook and cranny of my carriage.

          Then, She rose before me. Scotland, with her witching scenes, her crags and burns; her rugged hills, and heathery knolls; her black game, mokes, and jarveys; but, above all, her nogtails. It was too much for me! I could barely resist the impulse to abandon my carriage in favour of my Oakshaft or Moontrimmer.

          The smokestacks of Clagmar and Feldcroft powdered me with dust, but anything was better than the inked wells of Whitehall. I was in capital humour; I found everything agreeable; nature was gay, so was I; Wandsworth was the monster I was running away from, and every cloud I passed in my flight was a new source of pleasure. I reached Ardsheal House like a hunchback relieved of his hump by Circe, having lost my hump — ennui — somewhere along the way.

          Never did I feel happier than at four the next morning, when I mounted my aethonan to ride to the forester. To let you into a secret, I was going to shoot — no, to try and shoot — nogtail. To shoot a nogtail! What a world is there in those words. Never was a schoolboy with his first wand keener than I when I arrived at the hills and found the lady of the woods standing at her door…

[1]  Latin phrase roughly translated into: 'O country, when shall I look upon thee?'

 

***

 

          When the family returned home from the match, Arcturus was enjoying a bottle of champagne in the sitting room. As they walked past, the boys muttered their greetings, but then Arcturus called out, "Turais! Come here!" 

          Shooting Alex and Sirius a look of grimace, Turais fixed a smile on his face and entered the room. 

          "What's the occasion, Grandfather?" he asked.

          "Feigning ignorance is not a becoming trait," Arcturus admonished lightly. "Minister Jenkins resigned before the first vote was cast. And now, I shall be able to install a candidate who will be amenable to our cause. But enough about that. First, we shall pay a visit to Gringotts."

          A quick Portkey jump later, they arrived at the private entrance. Arcturus strode past the teller's desk, and Grindok scurried after him. 

          "Lord Black, I was not expecting you —" 

          "We wish to visit the family vault," Arcturus said as they reached a secluded platform. Once aboard the mine cart, Grindok pushed down on the lever, and they glided smoothly along the tracks that snaked through the labyrinthine underground tunnels. Not a moment later, they burst through a waterfall before rumbling into the darkest bowels of Gringotts. 

          The tracks grew wilder, the air became chillier, and the vault entrances became increasingly majestic. Nearby, a dragon let out an agonising roar. Then, the cart came to an abrupt halt, and the sound of rushing water filled the air. Under the warm glow of the swaying lanterns, Turais saw they were directly above a crystal-clear lake with no platform in sight.

          "Make sure to take a breath," Arcturus told Turais before vanishing into the water. Curiously, the water's surface remained devoid of any signs of disturbance.

          "After you, Mr Black," Grindok said.

          Turais took the plunge. Immediately, he felt like a boulder was chained to his ankles, pulling him deeper and deeper until the water gave way to air. He floated gently onto a podium in the centre of a circular antechamber lined with a dozen vault doors. Once Grindok landed beside him, the ceiling transformed into marble, revealing the intricate frescoes adorning it. 

          "The vaults within these halls will become yours in due time, but for today, you shall settle with this," Arcturus said, handing a silver key to the goblin. Grindok approached the door and opened it. Inside was a standard-sized Gringotts vault, filled to the brim with galleons.

          "Vault seventy-nine," Grindok announced.

          "This is the sum you've earned from your investments in Nimbus," Arcturus said. "It is yours to use as you see fit."

          Eyeing the mountain of gold, Turais wondered if his grandfather had posed yet another test and a plan formulated in his mind. He asked, "May I exchange the contents of this vault for our holdings in Nimbus?"

          Arcturus arched an eyebrow and nodded. "What do you intend to do?"

          Turais turned to Grindok and said, "I would like to take out a loan."

 

***

 

          "It is sheer folly to use your Nimbus shares as collateral for a loan only to reinvest in the same company!" Arcturus said, his voice ringing around the ancient halls of Raafenhyll Castle.

          "This is an exceptional investment opportunity," Turais replied calmly. "By the time I return to Hogwarts, I shall have enough gold to fill ten of the vaults you have offered me today."

          "To stake your entire fortune on a singular venture is no investment; it is gambling!" 

          "Yet you are keen to witness the outcome, Grandfather," challenged Turais. "Particularly since you had every opportunity to intervene and chose not to."

          Arcturus's lips curled up dangerously, then he let out an amused chuckle. 

          "What you lack in tact, you more than compensate for with boldness," he replied. "I shall await to see whether these risks you have calculated are indeed sound."

          Thinking back to Charlus's words, Turais added, "Grandfather, since you mentioned gambling, there is indeed a wager I wish to propose."

          "Go on."

          "Should my decision prove correct, will you agree to involve me in your plans for the Ministry?"

          "We have never seen eye to eye on politics. What has prompted this sudden change of heart?"

          Turais met his grandfather's gaze squarely. 

          "I oppose your views, and that shall always remain true. However, I have come to realise that involvement in the affairs of the state is not a mere matter of opinion. It is also about survival. The world is shifting, and we must shape a future that secures both our legacy and our place within it. Don't you agree, Grandfather?"

          Arcturus eyed Turais's extended hand for a long moment before clasping it firmly, a slight smile creeping into his stern demeanour.

          They stepped beyond the castle boundaries, and a thick swirl of fog immediately concealed the ruins. Moments later, they were surrounded by the sound of powerful flaps of wings as an abraxan-drawn carriage skidded to a halt before them.

          "Eponius," Arcturus greeted the elderly man who climbed from the box seat.

          "Lord Withers," Turais said, firmly shaking the man's hand. "We met when I served as the Youth Representative. It's a pleasure to see you again, sir."

          "Ah, yes, I remember," the man replied. "It was dreadful business. One must hope the upcoming Ministerial elections conclude with considerably less turmoil."

          Once they settled inside the carriage, there was a sudden jolt as they ascended into the skies and headed north. 

          "Aren't we returning home?" asked Turais, alarmed.

          "No, you are to begin your training at once, and Alexander will join you after the Litha festival has concluded," replied Arcturus.

          "What of my belongings?" 

          "They are on their way to Glenfaelad —" 

          "But —"

          "I will not have you compared unfavourably to your peers in the upcoming Hunt," Arcturus replied sternly. "There is also another matter. I have heard Miss Galdorwin has grown rather fond of you. She will be a suitable wife, should you manage to persuade her aunt for her hand in marriage —" 

          Turais reared up in anger. "We are friends —" 

          "Then you are in a most fortunate position, as many marriages begin with far less. She is also two years your senior, which you should find agreeable as it seems you prefer those who are mature beyond their years —"

          "Actually, it's the 'floating through walls' bit that I find most appealing —"

          "This is no laughing matter!" Arcturus retorted sharply. "You are the heir to one of the most prominent families in the British Isles and in line to inherit the family fortune. To bear such a title is to carry its weight. Such is the way of our House, and you will do well to remember it!"

          "And should I refuse to cooperate?" Turais replied testily.

          "You may be our family's brightest hope, but you are not our only future." 

          Turais narrowed his eyes.

          "Is this a threat?" 

          Arcturus looked at his grandson with a cold smile. 

          "Oh, no. I hold great disdain for threats. Fear is a most fickle motivator. Consider this my wager to you. Only, it is one you are ill-prepared to accept, let alone lose."

          Turais looked away in disdain.

          "And should either of them refuse?" 

          "Then you shall be matched with the daughter of another family of equal stature, though lacking the good rapport you enjoy with Miss Galdorwin." At Turais's silence, Arcturus continued, "Now, it will be in our mutual interests — and those of your brothers' — to ensure this union succeeds. Wouldn't you agree?"

          The abraxans snorted loudly to announce their arrival.

          Ardsheal House was a three-storey structure with walls of richly hued logs and granite stones, a steep, slated roof, and thirteen crooked chimneys jutting out from various angles. Lord Withers pulled back on the reins, causing the horses to arch their wings as they came to a slow, graceful halt on the wide balcony.

          A woman approached them with stately elegance, her posture straight and composed. She scanned the vacant carriage, and a shadow crossed her features. Then, she placed her hands on her shoulders and performed a deep bow. 

          "Lord Black, allow me to welcome you back to Ardsheal House after such a long absence," she said, her voice lacking warmth.

          Arcturus half-heartedly mimicked the gesture and said, equally distantly, "Lady Swindon, I would like to introduce you to my eldest grandson, Turais."

          "It is my honour to meet with you, Lady Swindon," Turais said, returning her bow. When he looked up, he caught a glimpse of sorrow on her face. However, that moment quickly faded as she led them into the main hall.

          Rich leather couches and chairs were scattered about. Chandeliers hung from the high, vaulted ceilings, and the walls were lined with woven tapestries and trophies from various hunts. 

          "There have been marked improvements since I last walked these halls," Arcturus commented.

          "It was a labour of love by my husband and me," she replied curtly.

          "Turais's father has also intended to refurbish our ancestral home. Unfortunately, one tends to have less time when they need to parent a child, let alone three energetic sons."

          Lady Swindon's jaw clenched before she turned her gaze onto Turais.

          "Mr Black, your work on the Wolfsbane Potion is most impressive," she said.           

          "Mr Belby is far too generous with his praises. He is the one who deserves the credit," replied Turais.

          "Your reputation of humility precedes you," she replied. And for the first time, Turais thought Lady Swindon's smile was genuine.

          "Humility is a virtue only if one also learns to promote their achievements," Arcturus admonished his grandson. "A confident display of one's accomplishments is a testament of one's expertise and ambition, not a vice."

          "I find true greatness speaks for itself without the need for self-promotion," said Lady Swindon.

          Arcturus scoffed. "We must let our light shine if only to inspire others to reach similar greatness."

          "You presume others are in need of unsolicited advice." 

          "A self-assured individual would have no issue accepting sage advice. It is often those who are lacking in certain… qualities who experience such qualms."

          "And I took your advice very well, didn't I?" Lady Swindon said icily, to which Arcturus responded with a penetrating glare. As the tension reached a breaking point, Imogen entered through the large double oak doors, auburn hair bouncing on her shoulders, and bowed to Arcturus.

          "I'm sure you two are familiar with each other," Lady Swindon said. "Imogen will oversee your training for your first hunt." 

          "Your grandson is in capable hands, Lord Black," Imogen replied, taking Turais's hand. "This is your official first day in the Cairngorms. You must allow me to be a proper host. Training can wait until tomorrow."

          "I shall take my leave as well," Arcturus said, gripping Turais's shoulder painfully. "I trust that you will remember our conversation?"

          Turais replied with a silent glare before allowing Imogen to lead him down the winding path towards the village. Along the way, she pointed out the various landmarks that dotted the valley. During a lull, he asked, "Have you encountered any strangers recently?"

          "Like yourself?" she replied with a wry smile. "There are none, as the Cairngorms are not open to the public until after Litha."

          "And what of the strange occurrences?" he pressed.

          "There's nothing worthy of note beyond reports of odd behaviours from certain creatures. Unfortunately, it remains unclear what is causing it." She leaned in and whispered, "Speaking of oddities, did you feel the animosity between my aunt and your grandfather? You don't reckon they were estranged lovers —?"

          Turais gasped in horror. "They are more than thirty years apart in age!"

          "I suppose you are right," Imogen hummed thoughtfully. "Anyway, we ought to corroborate our stories should my aunt corner you and inquire about what happened last month."

          "What would you have me say?" 

          "That we met only twice," Imogen instructed. "Once in Diagon Alley and once outside Hogwarts when you returned my cloak only to be ambushed by an army of Dementors." 

          "Surely she doesn't believe that," Turais scoffed in disbelief.

          "No, but if you repeat my story, she has no means of refuting it —" Imogen punched him on the shoulder. "Did you roll your eyes at me?!"

          "Yes," Turais replied, deftly blocking her second strike by gripping her wrist. 

          His gaze locked onto her rich, brown eyes, and his heart suddenly lurched.

          A rustle broke the spell, and Turais released his hold hastily. 

          It was a crup. The front half of the dog's body was covered in a pristine, snow-white fur coat that contrasted sharply against its jet-black hind legs.

          Imogen cleared her throat.

          "Skel, this is Turais." The crup paced around Turais, sniffing suspiciously, before signalling its approval with a happy wag of its forked tail. Imogen tossed Turais a treat, and Skel immediately gobbled it up from his hand. "I suppose you pass muster."

          "What if I didn't?" 

          "I would have been forced to set my army of gnomes on you," she replied with a grin.

          "I excel at de-gnoming, I'll have you know," Turais said, returning the grin as he scratched Skel in the back of its ear. "Does Skel stand for something?"

          Imogen ordered the crup to roll onto its back, revealing the distinctive streaks of black fur on its belly that resembled a ribcage. 

          "Well, that's certainly a fitting name," he chuckled before summoning Padfoot. Skel barked excitedly at the new companion, and soon they were chasing each other in a playful romp. 

          "Turais, you must teach me the charm," she whispered, staring at the Patronus. "That day… I heard my parents shouting in fear… It was one of the worst experiences in my life… I must overcome it."

          Turais clasped a hand on her shoulder. "Of course."

 

***

 

          The village of Glenfaelad was located at the base of a grassy knoll surrounded by a ring of triangular-shaped rocks — the Shards. At its peak was the Spearstone — a tall, slanted stone that rose majestically above the rest. A giant human-shaped wicker statue stood in its long shadow.

          "What is that?" asked Turais.

          "It is for Litha. During the festival, it will be lit in flames. Eleanor and I will take turns walking beneath it and transforming into our primary creature form, should we be proven worthy of it."

          Suddenly, the aroma of freshly baked goods wafted into Turais's nostrils, and his stomach let out a rumbling growl.

          "Where are my manners?" Imogen said immediately. "You must be starving. Let's head to Mrs Berryfrost's bakery. Her scones are an absolute delight."

          Entering the tearoom, they were greeted by a plump, grandmotherly figure. "Imogen! Back so soon?" 

          "Yes, Mrs Berryfrost, but I'm here with a guest," Imogen said.           

          "Ah, yes. I was just about to wonder when you'd appear at my doorstep, Mr Black."

          "I wasn't aware that my visit here was so highly anticipated."

          Mrs Berryfrost’s eyes twinkled mischievously. 

          "More so for some than others, I'm sure —" 

          "We would like two blueberry scones and two teas, thank you," Imogen interrupted hastily, dragging Turais away from the counter. "Please ignore her."

          They found a cosy nook by the shop windows and settled in. Mrs Berryfrost soon returned with their order. With hands wrapped around warm mugs of tea, they looked out of the tearoom window at the bustling town square. 

          Turais suddenly noticed Imogen's gaze fixed upon his face. She blinked, and a slight flush crept up her cheeks.

          "Sorry. It's just… your eyes... they're quite green."

          "Oh, yes…" Turais said, scratching his neck sheepishly. "I'm the only one in my family with green eyes. Everyone else's are grey." 

          "That's extraordinary." 

          Turais let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle.

          "You'll soon discover that nothing about me is quite normal, despite my attempt for it to remain as such."

          "Life is too short to settle for normal, don't you reckon?" said Imogen. "And I've always meant to ask: what is the story behind your name? Turais is an important star, but one which never graces our skies."

          "It is an ancient family superstition to name a newborn after a southern star following a difficult pregnancy or serious illness," explained Turais. "They believed that such obscurity would placate the gods and spare the child from their wrath, ensuring their survival to adulthood."

          "You Southerners place a lot of faith in your stars."

          Turais shrugged. "They've done alright by me until now." 

          "Have they? Multiple attempts on your life, and… and…" Imogen's voice trailed off into hushed whispers. "I saw the scar on your chest. It is the mark of a terrible curse..."

          "It was a Cruciatus." A pained whimper escaped from Imogen's lips, and Turais put on a brave smile. "But it's all in the past. No?" 

          Imogen returned a shaky smile. After a while, Turais cleared his throat and returned to their previous conversation. "Do Hunters not study the heavens?"

          "Only when it pertains to night-time navigation. We believe our surroundings hold far greater influence on our lives than mere specks of light visible for only half the time, however beautiful they are. Many of your other practices are equally baffling. There's the matter of land ownership —" Imogen paused abruptly with a sheepish expression. "But I doubt you would like to hear me lecture on it." 

          "Quite the contrary, I am intrigued," Turais replied. "If I'm not mistaken, the Cairngorms do not believe in the ownership of land, yet your lands are marked as privately owned in the Ministry land registry."

          "Indeed, we don't. But your Ministry does. It was a necessary evil due to historical circumstances, which I'm sure you are familiar with…."

          Turais nodded. "The War of Inheritance."

          "In the Cairngorms, everyone is allowed equal access to all lands. It is unfathomable that someone can stake a claim on any field or blade of grass, let alone cast an Unplottable to prevent others from entering a place," Imogen said, gesturing around them. "These forests, rivers, and mountains will endure long after our last descendant passes. We must recognise we are but a small part of nature and our role as custodians of this land."

          "It's a beautiful perspective," breathed Turais. "Unfortunately, one that is not shared by many."

          "It is also losing favour amongst our people," Imogen sighed, the corners of her eyes crinkling sadly. "One of my aunt's main political rival proposed to levy exorbitant fees for the use of the hunting grounds to deter foreigners. The very idea of monetising land access goes against everything we stand for. The Council defeated the proposition, but I fear this is just the beginning of a long fight…"

          Mrs Berryfrost approached their table and said, "I don't mean to interrupt your conversation. But Imogen, dear, didn't you wish to show your friend the stables? The day is growing late."

          "Oh, yes!" Imogen gasped, glancing out the window. "Turais, follow me!"  

          Hooves and whinnies filled the air as they approached the stables. Near the pens, Lord Withers was magicking several barrels of single malt whiskey with his staff. As if on cue, a herd of abraxans descended from the clouds and crowded around the troughs as the whiskey poured. 

          "Eponius," Imogen shouted. "We are here to find Turais's ride." 

          "Ah, nice to see you again, Turais." Lord Withers smiled warmly and shook Turais's hand. "Now that your grandfather is not around, do call me Eponius. None of that Lord Withers nonsense." 

          "Of course, Eponius." 

          "There's a good lad." Eponius grinned as they walked along the open field where the winged horses roamed freely. "Welcome to the largest stable in Scotland. Do you know your breeds?" 

          Turais nodded. "Aethonans have brown coats, granians are those in grey and white, and abraxans are the largest ones." His gaze was then drawn to several skeletal-looking horses huddled at the edge of the forest. "I see you have thestrals as well."

          The usual awkwardness he anticipated did not materialise. Instead, Imogen explained without pause, "Well, it's not only about appearances. Winged horses are highly spiritual creatures. I've heard it's almost like choosing a wand. You'll know when you find the right one." 

          Eponius covered his mouth and let out a loud whistle. All the winged horses turned their heads and slowly strolled over. However, Turais noticed a thestral with broken wings retreating further into the forest. 

          It was Erebus. 

          "We can start with the granians," said Imogen as they walked through the herd, but Turais's eyes kept wandering back to Erebus. "They are more docile and less suspicious by nature, which allows them to bond easily with novice riders."

          "What about thestrals?"

          "They are quite challenging to handle…." However, it was as if an invisible force was guiding Turais's feet towards the cover of the forest. Imogen hissed urgently, "Turais, this is not a good idea —" 

          Erebus flared his nostrils and let out a loud shriek. Imogen cried for Eponius, but Turais remained undeterred. He sensed a deep, unspoken sadness beneath the anger and rage. 

          "You are in pain," Turais spoke, his voice gentle and soothing as he reached out a steady hand. As if understanding him, the thestral snorted and remained in place. The wild eyes once filled with fury, now betrayed a glimmer of curiosity. Turais took another step forward and whispered, "You are safe now." 

          Fingers trembling, he closed the distance. The thestral nudged Turais's hand with his draconic muzzle and gave a low, melancholic shrill.

          Turning to his shocked companions, he said, "I choose Erebus." 

 

***

 

          Over the following days, Turais established a routine. He trained with Imogen in the mornings and devoted his afternoons to grooming Erebus. Gradually, the thestral ceased to flinch at his touch and started to linger by the barn doors, anticipating his daily arrival.

          One afternoon, Erebus led Turais to his favourite spot, a tranquil glade in the woods. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, creating a tapestry of dappled patterns on the forest floor. At the heart of the glade stood a small mound with three great slabs of stone protruding from its side, forming a narrow archway into the earth. A profound sense of serenity wrapped around them like a soft embrace, as if the very air held its breath in reverence.

          As they rested at the edge of the sunlit patch, Turais read the latest letter from Alex.

Turais,

I hope this letter finds you well, though I imagine you must be at your wit's end trying to gather news of the happenings at home. 

I must confess that I have yet to forgive you for your abrupt departure without so much as a warning. The house feels rather empty without you, and I catch myself wondering how I survived my stint at Castelobruxo all those summers ago.

Your father is doing quite well. He and your grandfather are always in meetings with some notable figures. I gathered they are all lobbying for the upcoming election, and the atmosphere here is charged with discussing alliances and strategies.

Meanwhile, Sirius has his eyes and nose firmly buried in an intricate map project. I have never seen such determination in him before, and I daresay he'd fill you in on all the details if he could ever tear himself away from it for long enough!

Regulus, however, has taken every opportunity to make himself scarce around me. He always claims to be off visiting Severus or Barty, but I can't be certain of his whereabouts. 

I am looking forward to our reunion in the Cairngorms. Before then, take care of yourself and try not to get into too much trouble.

Yours truly,  

Alex

          Feeling Erebus nuzzling at his feet, Turais peered down to see the contents of his satchel all strewn over the grass.

          "Hey, that's my lunch!"

          In response, Erebus took a bite of the apple and snorted, a mischievous glint in his milky eyes. 

          Suddenly, Turais's nose twitched at the familiar scent of wildflowers and cedar. He turned to find Imogen crouching in mid-stride, her attempt to surprise him thwarted. 

          She straightened her back and leapt over the gnarled root to sit beside him. Ignoring Turais's questioning gaze, she said, "It is curious you have chosen here to rest."

          "How so? Erebus brought me here, and I find it quite peaceful as well."

          "Because most would find this place unsettling," said Imogen, gesturing toward the stone structure, "Much like the thestral, only those who have witnessed death can see the dolmen — and according to legend, it is a portal that connects our world to the Otherworld."

          "As in… the afterlife?" asked Turais.

          "It has many names. The Land of Heroes, The Land of Eternal Youth, Paradise… and yes, the afterlife. It is a place all souls venture to after death, never to return. No one knows what lies beyond, and ghosts are forbidden from entering."

          "The messenger you sent — she was a ghost from the Cairngorms, wasn't she?" Imogen nodded. "She was not keen to linger and seemed terribly sad."

          "In our culture, becoming a ghost is seen as a most dishonourable act," Imogen replied with a sigh. "We believe a person's true legacy is measured by the memories and tales shared after their passing, not by clinging to the mortal realm. As such, our ghosts tend to keep to themselves and out of sight. I befriended her through a chance encounter and may be her only living friend."

          "Send her my gratitude, would you? And if she ever wants another living friend, I am available."

          "I will," Imogen promised before a teasing smile graced her lips. "So, does it mean the rumours are true? You do seek the hand of a ghostly bride!"

          "Currently, I have no desire greater than that of seducing a giantess," Turais deadpanned. "That is only until I return to Hogwarts — mind you — when the Prophet will determine that my one true love is the merprincess of the Black Lake."

          "Of course." Imogen chuckled softly. "Do merpeople even have princesses?"

          "I sincerely hope so if I am to wed her," Turais laughed. "Now, would you like to explain why you were stalking me like prey?"

          "I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," Imogen said, shrugging her shoulders. "I simply thought I had stumbled across a warlock in a fairytale. Surely that merits a thorough investigation, no?"

          "Well, I do not possess a hairy heart. You, of all people, should be able to attest to that."

          "Pity," she whispered, leaning in with a smirk. "If you did, I would stake my claim as the maiden of unparalleled beauty and magical abilities."

          "Who says you aren't already?"  

          Imogen's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, and her gaze drifted to his lips. A tightness blossomed in Turais's chest, and an exhilarating thrill coursed through his veins, quickening his breath. In that charged moment, a wordless anticipation hung between them, and the air crackled with the yearning for something more.

          It would be so simple to lean in and seal the distance with a press of the lips…

          But the words of Arcturus echoed in Turais's mind, and he hesitated. 

          Suddenly, Erebus let out a loud screech and charged towards them. Imogen pulled them both onto the ground as the thestral leapt overhead into the dense shrubbery.

          "Erebus!" Turais gasped before giving chase.

          He only took a few steps before noticing the familiar sounds of the forest had faded into a muffled silence. 

          The trees had grown denser, their branches intertwining overhead like twisted fingers, and the path he arrived from had vanished, replaced by a thicket tangled with wild thorns.

          "Erebus? Imogen?" Turais called out, but there was nothing but the echo of his voice reverberating. 

          When Turais looked forward again, he found himself standing beneath a tree on the bank of a murmuring brook.

          "You're stepping on me." Startled, Turais looked up at the tree only to hear a heavy sigh floating through the glade. "Why must every soul hear my voice and immediately think — Tree! Look down!" 

          A sharp jab at Turais's ankle prompted him to leap away and discover a small stick-like creature stretching its slender limbs.

          "Didn't expect a bowtruckle to talk, yes, yes. No, I'm not a threat," it grumbled, anticipating Turais's every question. "And yes, I can lead you back to where you came from."

          "Did you bring me here?" asked Turais.

          "The Forest did," replied the creature. "Now, be a dear and walk me over to that yew tree."

          Despite his bewilderment, Turais lifted the creature to his shoulder and followed its directions.

          "You're not from these parts of the woods," the bowtruckle noted. "What has brought you here?"

          "The Forest did? — Ouch!

          The bowtruckle gave his nose a painful stab and huffed in annoyance, "Why are you in the Cairngorms?"

          Somehow, Turais knew the bowtruckle wasn't referring to hunting.

          "I'm here on my grandfather's orders," he admitted.

          "Ah, orders…. They are weighty things, but what you have here is far heavier…." The bowtruckle tapped his shoulder with its root-like limb. "Obligation. Not that to your grandfather or your family. But to the world. That's a great burden to carry, my child. Far greater than a small bowtruckle like me." 

          Turais squinted at the tiny creature curiously.

          "For a bowtruckle, you have some very big thoughts."

          "When one ponders the world, one's thoughts are the size of the world," the bowtruckle replied sagely. "But when one's thoughts are upon woodlice… Well, it's the exact size of a hearty bowtruckle snack. Also, you haven’t a clue where you are going, have you?" 

          Turais shook his head.

          "Can't even find a yew tree…." the bowtruckle grumbled. "What are children taught in schools these days?" 

          The light around Turais shifted, and he suddenly found himself before a magnificent tree, its gnarled trunk twisting skyward and beyond the clouds. The bark was a tapestry of deep browns and greys etched by the hand of time. Beneath its sprawling canopy, vibrant green leaves danced gently in the breeze, each shimmering with a life of its own. At the base, clusters of flowers glowed with an ethereal light, surrounding a narrow opening formed by stones.

          "This way."

          The bowtruckle hopped off his shoulder and guided him through the stone arch into a dark, winding tunnel until they emerged at the edge of a large pool of crystal-clear water. Three streams poured into the pool, gentle cascades surrounded by immense roots that seemed to cradle the earth. Beams of light filtered through narrow gaps above, casting ethereal patterns upon the water's surface.

          "Where are we?"

          Turais's voice echoed softly, but then he realised the bowtruckle had vanished. The light dimmed to absolute darkness. Just as a sense of unease crept over him, a ball of light emerged from the depths of the lake to his left, illuminating the cavernous space with a soft yellow glow.

          The ball of light began its ecliptic path overhead, and images shimmered into existence in the water. Turais found himself staring into the once-familiar face of Harry Potter with memories of Privet Drive and Hogwarts unfolding vividly before him. As the light passed the zenith, he saw a glimpse of his reflection. Then, the images shifted a final time. It was his family, friends, and loved ones, all smiling back at him whilst growing old, their carefree expressions filled Turais with warmth. But as the light sank beneath the surface and the images faded, he realised there was someone missing.

          Himself.

          "Is this my future?" Turais asked when the bowtruckle returned.

          "There are many futures. But should you stay your course, it will become your reality," the creature replied. "Yet, for a future you have so ardently pursued, you do not see a place for yourself within it. Curious, isn't it?"

          Turais looked away, a tightness constricting his heart and throat.

          "The darkness always recedes… just as winter yields to spring, and night reverts to day," it continued. "When the last wand is drawn and the final spell is cast, what shall become of Turais Black?"

          "I do not know, and I will not spare this question any thought. Dark forces threaten us on all sides. I must further weaken Voldemort, secure our alliances, and prepare for a war that looms ever closer upon the horizon. Even after the war, the arduous task of rebuilding awaits. There is also a plot within the Ministry which could undermine us all," Turais whispered shakily. "I cannot afford to think upon my future until I have secured that of my friends and family." 

          "And what of your heart? Scarred and shadowed as it may be — it continues to yearn for more."

          "Perhaps so, but I have already suffered too many losses. Even now, I fear I have risked too much. I cannot allow my affections to become an even greater vulnerability — for my sake and that of my loved ones — not while the world around us teeters on the brink of destruction."

          The bowtruckle's delicate frame sagged under his words. 

          "You must seek balance, my child. Otherwise, you shall become lost in the shadows of your past. And when your light extinguishes, who remains to stand against the encroaching darkness?"

          "I will not let that come to pass," Turais said, a bittersweet smile on his lips. "I am no ordinary boy, just as you are no mere bowtruckle."

          "No, you are not," the bowtruckle agreed as the colours around them started swirling like leaves caught in a storm. "But, tell me, who are you ?"

          Moments later, Turais found himself standing at the edge of the clearing where he had first met the bowtruckle as if he was emerging from a lucid dream.

          There was a nudge on his back. He turned around to find a pair of white, milky eyes staring back at him.

          "Erebus! You cheeky bugger!" Turais breathed, hugging the thestral around the neck. "I was so worried about you." 

          When he released him, Erebus trotted away. Just then, a loud shout of his name resounded through the air. A crup erupted from the leafy shrub, followed by Imogen, who embraced him tightly. 

          "Turais Orion Black! Where have you been?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.  "You've been missing since yesterday!"

          "What do you mean —?" Turais glanced at the date dial on his watch and frowned.

          A day had passed. It was Litha. 

          There was a loud snort, and a boy with short, cropped hair appeared around the bend of the path.

          "Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Some of us have more important tasks than to chase after children." 

          Turais began, "I was —" 

          "Being an attention seeker," the boy interrupted. "Pray tell, townie , was it fun playing hide and seek with the shadows —" 

          "Enough, Athelstan. Turais is back safe, and that's what matters," said Imogen, striding ahead without a backward glance. 

          They spent the entire journey home in silence, and Turais could feel the weight of the other boy's constant gaze boring into the back of his head.

          Imogen had not revealed his disappearance beyond her closest friends. After apologising profusely and expressing gratitude to them for their search efforts, Turais noticed Imogen had also disappeared.

          Ignoring Athelstan's deathly glare from afar, Turais approached two girls, Niamh and Ailsa. He leaned closer and whispered, "Do you know where Imogen is?"

          They exchanged glances, and Ailsa giggled, "Oh, you should know where she is." 

          After consideration, Turais made his way to the treehouse and found Imogen perched on a branch in a swirling cocoon of leaves. Quietly, he climbed up and settled beside her. When her meditation ended, she opened her eyes and said softly, "You found me." 

          "I did," Turais muttered, reaching his hand out before putting it down once more. "I'm sorry for any worry I caused you with my disappearance." 

          "I searched all the trails nearby," she said in a hushed whisper. "But you simply vanished without a trace. What happened?" 

          "I ran after Erebus and suddenly realised I was alone in a different part of the forest. There, I met… someone — something , rather — and it led me to a magnificent yew tree adorned with the most wondrous flora —" 

          Imogen gasped. 

          "I know now what happened. And here I thought you ran away because…" she trailed off. "Never mind. You visited our most sacred tree — the Crann Bethadh . But it is not a place one can simply wander to; you must be summoned."

          "Summoned?" asked Turais, befuddled.

          "Before each stone-wielder becomes a Hunter, they must face a trial set forth by the Forest. These trials are deeply personal. A prideful heart will learn a lesson in humility, while one lacking courage may find themselves confronting their greatest fear. It is intended to challenge us to face our most formidable foe: the darkness within . But rarely does one receive the honour of meeting a god…."

          "Why would one of your gods summon me?" Turais asked.

          "I don't know… and for it to occur on Litha… this is no coincidence," Imogen whispered. "But you don't even wield a stone…" 

          "Imogen… there is something you should know… something I ought to have told you sooner," Turais said as the magnitude of the situation dawned upon him. "I can see Eleanor's stone." 

          Imogen gasped in shock. "That… that cannot be!"

          "It's a moonstone fragment which glowed so brightly that all the torches dimmed in comparison."

          "Oh gods! Does she know?" 

          Turais nodded.

          "And she has been avoiding me ever since."

          "Why didn't you mention this before?"

          "Because I hoped I was mistaken," Turais said. "I don't wish or seek to become a stone-wielder, especially not at her expense." 

          "But if she is indeed a stone-keeper, she cannot participate in the ceremony, or there will be grave consequences."

          "What can we do?"

          Imogen leapt to her feet. 

          "We need to speak with my aunt. If anyone has a solution, it would be her," she said as the blare of a horn sounded from the Shards. "The festival is about to begin. Come on!"      

          They found Lady Swindon at the edge of the village, and Imogen started, "Aunt Diane, we have something urgent to tell you. Turais can see Eleanor's stone. She is… she may be a stone-keeper."

          Lady Swindon's eyes widened at Turais. Then her expression turned grim. 

          "I know what you seek, but I cannot interfere," Lady Swindon stated firmly. "Eleanor knows our tenets well. Should she appear at the ceremony despite the warnings, she must accept the consequences of her choice."

          Turais started to protest. "But —"

          "This is the way," replied Lady Swindon.

 

***

 

          The air was thick with anticipation as the village gathered around the towering human-shaped wicker statue under the Spearstone. Once the last rays of sunlight dipped beneath the horizon, Lady Swindon ignited her staff and touched it to the statue.

          The flames danced higher and higher until the entire statue smoked and cackled. Fiery beasts emerged, changing forms at will, and Lady Swindon turned to face her niece.

          "The time has come for the Initiates to prove themselves worthy of wielding the stone."

          Imogen shone with determination as she walked through the statue's legs. Suddenly, her eyes lit up in a pair of brilliant blue lights which mirrored the stone's radiance. She spread her arms wide, and feathers sprouted from them. Her body grew leaner and sleeker as her torso shrank, reshaping into a majestic golden eagle before taking flight.

          "Imogen, daughter of House Galdorwin," Lady Swindon declared, her voice filled with pride. "As a stone-bearer, you now hold the responsibility to protect your family's legacy and use your newfound abilities for the betterment of our people. May your wings carry you to great heights, and your spirit remain untamed and free."

          The eagle landed next to Turais, and Imogen reappeared in human form in the blink of an eye.

          "Congratulations," whispered Turais, but Imogen's frown only deepened.

          "I'm worried about Eleanor…." 

          From across the circle, Athelstan was glaring at them, and Turais's arm around Imogen tightened. 

          Next, Lady Swindon announced, "Eleanor, daughter of House Dorrance, you may proceed."

          All eyes turned to the girl as she stepped towards the wicker statue. 

          Suddenly, the wind shifted, and the crackling flames turned into a blazing inferno. Murmurs of concern rippled through the onlookers. A moment's hesitation flitted across Eleanor's expression, but she forged ahead. When she reached the base of the statue, there was a loud crack as one of the burning arms of the wicker statue crashed down next to her, sending sparks and embers flying into the night skies.

          "Something is wrong," Imogen muttered worriedly.

          Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and twisted her face in concentration. However, the stone remained lifeless. The fire around her burned higher and higher, and then a deafening bang echoed across the hill.

          Turais sprinted into the heart of the inferno.

          "No!" shouted Imogen as the statue collapsed. With a wave of his arm, Turais immediately suspended the falling debris in mid-air and pushed Eleanor to safety just as the burning logs crashed down. 

          "Are you injured?" Turais asked Eleanor, who could only shake her head, trembling violently. His gaze fell upon the glistening moonstone that hung around her neck, now split with one half missing. "Your stone…" 

          Eleanor immediately began to search the ground blindly when Turais spotted a bright shard glimmering at her feet. 

          "Here," he said, offering her the broken piece. 

          However, Eleanor shoved him away, her voice rising in distress. "I don't need your help!"

          Clutching her half of the stone desperately, she pushed through the crowd and disappeared into the darkness. 

          Lady Swindon directed two of her guards to follow Eleanor before setting her gaze upon the smouldering remnants of the wicker statue.

          After a long moment, she turned to Turais and said solemnly, "There is a reason for all things, even if we may not fully grasp its significance. You are the rightful bearer of this stone. Whether its power is yours to wield remains unclear. However, one thing is certain: by our tenets, you will train to become an Initiate —"

          "My Lady — respectfully — I cannot hold this stone," Turais protested. "I am neither a Hunter nor a member of your Clans." 

          "How can you be so certain?" asked Lady Swindon.

          Turais cast his mind back, drifting through the years of family history until the truth dawned upon him. 

          Raafenhyll Castle stood at the head of the Glenfaelad Valley — the very heart of the Cairngorms. 

          "The Forest remembers her children, even if your family has chosen to forget," Lady Swindon said. "Your training shall begin at first light. For now, you must rest."

Notes:

Will they? Won't they?

Happy holidays, and see you all next year!

- ravenclawblues 2024-12-22

Chapter 85: Hidden Intentions

Notes:

Hey everybody,

Happy Lunar New Year! Here's a new update, and thank you for all the wonderful comments and your continual support!

- ravenclawblues 2025-01-31

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

HIDDEN INTENTIONS


 

Appendix IX — Excerpt from The Cairngorms: A History

Unlike most British Wizarding families, whose ancestors arrived in Great Britain with the invading Norman army in the 11th century, the Hunting Clans can trace their roots in Scotland back to the Ancient Roman period. Although culturally distinct, they frequently interacted with their southern neighbours and participated in the Wizard's Council since its inception. However, with the establishment of the British Ministry of Magic in 1707, the membership of the Wizard's Council transitioned into the newly formed Wizengamot. The seats occupied by members of the Hunting Clans were similarly absorbed into this new assembly, placing them under English rule for the first time in history, despite the lack of any de facto governance over the region.

Feeling betrayed by this duplicity, the Hunting Clans opted to boycott the Wizengamot, leading to heightened tensions that culminated in 1790 when Minister Unctuous Osbert declared war on the Cairngorms in a bid to forcibly unify the British Isles. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the Hunting Clans successfully repelled the invading forces. The significant casualties sustained by the Ministry and the resulting instability were major factors which led to the War of Inheritance in 1799 — an internecine conflict between a faction of rogue families known as the 'Notorious Nine,' who sought to establish a Wizarding monarchy, and the opposing coalition led by Lord Canopus Black and Lord Hardwin Potter.

In search of a breakthrough, the coalition approached the Hunting Clans, offering them sovereignty and mutual non-interference in return for their assistance in the conflict. During the negotiations, Lord Canopus Black also agreed to cede Raafenhyll, the ancestral lands of the Blacks within the disputed territory claimed by both nations, to the Cairngorms. The Hunting Clans accepted the terms, and the Grand Coalition emerged victorious. Since the conclusion of the War, the Hunting Clans have continued to send their representatives to the Wizengamot and have consistently split their eight votes evenly on all matters — a symbol of goodwill and steadfast commitment to their policy of non-interference in Wizengamot affairs…

 

***

 

          The following day, while the sky still lay shrouded in darkness, Turais arrived at the stables to find Imogen waiting. 

          "Madainn mhath, (Good morning,)" he greeted.

          Imogen's eyes sparkled with delight. "Madainn mhath. Is that how you plan to be in my good graces?" 

          "Is it working?"

          She smirked without answering and handed him a saddle. "I think it's time you try mounting Erebus."

          For the past two weeks, Turais had been familiarising Erebus with the saddle, allowing him to see and sniff it, adjusting it for a proper fit while offering reassuring words. 

          Now, under Imogen's watchful gaze, he moved slowly to mount the thestral. However, Erebus heeled, and Turais was unceremoniously thrown to the ground. Nursing his shoulder, he watched the thestral retreat into the shadows, his ears flicking in fear and annoyance.

          "I suppose we aren't quite ready yet," Turais muttered as Athelstan announced his arrival with a loud snort.

          Imogen shot Turais an apologetic look before calling out, "Did my aunt send for me?" 

          "Am I not allowed to be worried about you?" Athelstan demanded, his amber eyes flashing dangerously. "Hop on. We're flying to Loch Lomond. There's been a report of a Quintaped spotted on the north shore." 

          "We're not going anywhere near a Quintaped. Besides, Turais isn't ready —" 

          "Of course the townie isn't ready. He's spent his days far from the Cairngorms, much like the generations before him. Despite what your aunt would have us believe, he is no Hunter," Athelstan hissed. "Why must you spend so much time with him?" 

          "He's under my tutelage," Imogen reminded, pulling Turais into the forest. "It's my duty to train him —" 

          "My father said you volunteered —"

          "And what difference does that make?" snapped Imogen, "Turais, let's get Erebus —"

          "What about our trip?"

          "Go by yourself if you must!" 

          Once Erebus was safely returned to the stables, they took a flight on Cedalion. Imogen noticed Turais contemplating the stone in his hand and asked, "A knut for your thoughts?"

          "How's Eleanor?"

          Imogen sighed. "She's at home resting, but refuses to part with her stone, claiming that she can also see it. As neither of you transformed during the ceremony, until one of you succeeds, we remain at an impasse."

          "Is it possible she hasn't passed her trial?"

          "I wondered the same. Eleanor has always been driven by her ambition and fierce stubbornness. It might explain her eagerness to participate in the ceremony, even if she wasn't ready…."

          "But why have your gods bestowed this stone upon me in such a manner?" Turais asked. "And as Athelstan pointed out —"

          "Please excuse him," Imogen interjected. "He's not a bad person — simply arrogant… and quick to anger."

          "His insults do not bother me. But it is indisputable that my family has long since turned away from your way of life. I am an outsider in every sense but name."

          "Your family's past doesn't define you."

          "Perhaps…" Turais looked away, wrestling with his thoughts. "During my trial, I faced a question of such weight that I may never answer it adequately."

          Imogen fell silent for a moment before whispering, "In my trial, I encountered things which challenged every belief I held dear. It demanded strengths I do not possess — strengths I still lack…."

          For a brief moment, Turais detected an inexplicable sadness in her eyes. 

          "Yet you prevailed in the ceremony." 

          "I did. That's why I believe neither the stone nor the trial holds true significance. It is the journey which you undertake that matters most."

          "But how would I know if I've succeeded in my trial?" 

          "That's the thing, isn't it? You won't know until you do."

          Soon, the land fell away to reveal the shimmering Atlantic Ocean. Waves crashed against the jagged rocks and tumbling cliffs, sending up frothy sprays that glistened in the air. Seabirds wheeled in graceful arcs beside them, their calls echoing in the briny air.

          Imogen breathed, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

          Turais turned to face her, captivated by how the sunlight danced upon her flowing hair. A dryness crept into his throat as he managed to whisper, "Indeed."

          A solitary sea stack rose boldly above the waves. Its ancient stones, weathered by time and tides, formed a natural arch above a whirlpool where the ocean's waters seemingly disappeared into the swirling abyss. Imogen beckoned for Cedalion to descend, and the winged steed emitted a startled snort, shifting his body restlessly. After a few moments of whispered assurances, they finally landed upon the flat summit of the rock.

          Cedalion immediately took to the skies after they dismounted. As the powerful beats of wings faded into the distance, Turais felt an irresistible pull towards the edge. The water churned with a mesmerizing, almost hypnotic rhythm, and a profound sense of tranquillity wrapped around him like a gentle cloak. 

          From beneath the shadowy waters, whispers seemed to call to him, beckoning him closer….

          "Turais?"

          He tore his gaze away, and the sound of winds and waves surged back into his awareness.

          "Yes, I'm listening," he replied hastily.

          "Up until now, the staves I have provided you lacked character, loyalty, and potential," Imogen explained. "They are mere conduits for your magic — elongated wands with a singular purpose. To truly master the staff, you must carve your own. And to earn that honour, you must first show you can wield our magic. Do you recall what I said about your magic?"

          "That while our spells have offered us literacy, they have paradoxically kept us from true comprehension," Turais recited with a hint of a smile. "And compared to staff magic, it is severely lacking —"

          Imogen rolled her eyes and interrupted, "The important bit, please."

          "That magic is not about the clever use of words and subtle turns of phrase; it is the ability to shape the very world according to one's will."

          "Precisely. And magic is not simply a tool; it is a force that envelops us. It courses through all things — both living and non-living — and is woven into the very fabric of our reality," Imogen continued. "Just as the seagull harnesses the fierce winds of the sky, you must learn to attune yourself to the currents of magic and wield its power."

          She knelt and closed her eyes in concentration, holding her staff with one hand and placing the other on the stone surface. After several heartbeats, a spurt of water erupted from the depths of the crevice. More water began to trickle forth until it blossomed into a small spring.

          "This shall serve as your first test," said Imogen, handing him her staff.

          Turais gathered his energy as if calling upon the ancient Hallows, only with much greater intensity. His mind sharpened, and the air around him shifted as he reached into the flowing ebbs of magic around him.

          The gentle breeze intensified, and a heavy drop of water struck his face, followed by another, until he was engulfed in a relentless downpour. He opened his eyes to see the moonstone had transformed into a shard of volcanic glass bathed in a mysterious black glow, like onyx melting into mist. Looking up at Imogen, he found her staring back with an odd expression as a cascading storm churned around them. 

          He extracted himself from the magic. The stone dimmed, the wind fell silent, and the clouds parted to reveal the sun once more.

          "Something like that?" Turais asked, slipping the obsidian into his pocket.

          Imogen nodded, her eyes lingering on him as she reclaimed her staff. Her voice dropped to a low, slightly breathless whisper. "You are ready to craft your first staff. But that will have to wait for another day since your friends are arriving as we speak."

          On the return flight, she insisted that Turais sit before her, keeping a careful distance and remaining strictly silent. Yet, throughout the journey, he could still sense the fleeting glances she stole in his direction.

 

***

 

          Turais dismounted in the courtyard of Ardsheal House. When he turned around, Imogen was already flying off towards the stables. Feeling slightly off-kilter, he wandered to the landing balcony and spotted several familiar figures by the parked carriages.

          "Turais!" exclaimed Alex, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

          "Good to see you!" Turais said, returning the hug. 

          Alex stepped back to assess him, smiling broadly. "Still managing to stay out of trouble, I hope?"

          "Me? I'm practically a model citizen —" Alex tossed a golden ball at Turais, who caught it deftly. "My practice Snitch! How did you know to bring it?"

          "I've never seen you go a day without fiddling with it."

          Turais grinned sheepishly. "I thought it was too trivial to mention in my letters…."

          "Of course you'd think that. I also brought you a treat."

          He held out a bag, and Turais peered inside to find a generous slice of treacle tart. 

          "You're a godsend! What would I do without you?" exclaimed Turais.

          "Probably starve or bore yourself to death."

          "Or both," Turais said as he turned to greet Jonty, who was watching them with a furrowed eyebrow. As their eyes met, Jonty's expression instantly shifted to a casual grin. "And how in Circe's name have you grown taller again?"

          "Reckon the elf's been sneaking Skele-Gro into my morning porridge," replied Jonty. "You should give it a go." 

          Turais stuck two fingers up at Jonty as the air filled with gentle chimes. A winged carriage, crafted from silver and adorned with intricate floral designs, gracefully floated down. With a soft thud, the wings folded neatly against its sides, forming a staircase as its passengers disembarked. Amongst the many faces, Turais caught sight of Pierricoeur muttering rapidly in French with a witch.

          "Isn't that Lavinia Swire?" whispered Alex.

          Jonty nodded. "She works as a fashion editor for Varnish. "

          Turais frowned, recalling the countless cover stories filled with baseless speculation about his romantic pursuits. "That posh gossip rag?"

          "It happens to cater to a more affluent readership," Jonty huffed. "The owl delivering my subscription got lost somewhere in the Baltics. I wonder if she has one I could borrow…."

          As Turais listened on, Pierricoeur approached. "How confident are you at becoming the top scorer in the O.W.L. exams, Black?" 

          "Good to see you too, Pierricoeur," Turais replied flatly. "And I haven't spared it much thought. It's just an exam —"

          "Just an exam?! This is your future," Pierricoeur exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "It could affect everything —"

          His rant was interrupted by a loud bang. 

          A wagon, crowned with an eagle figurehead, burst through the clouds as sounds of raucous music echoed.

          "Oh, look, the Americans," grunted Pierricoeur.

          The canvas top was a striking display of bold red, white, and blue stripes, while the wooden wheels spun violently, leaving a trail of golden stars as it skidded to a screeching halt in front of them.

          "I hear they have peculiar naming trends — the Greek alphabet, imagine that!" Jonty remarked as the passengers piled out. "Care to wager a galleon that an Epsilon or a Zeta is lurking around?"

          "It would take a braver man than me to bet against you on this —" Turais yelped as Jonty suddenly began undoing his cloak buttons. "What in Circe's name are you doing?!" 

          "I heard bodybuilding is all the rage in America. You're fit —"

          "Take your hands off me!" Turais hissed, prying his friend's fingers away.

          "Why else would you train so hard if not to show off —"

          "Excuse me." Lauren — the girl he and Alex had met in Parádeisos last summer — stopped before them. "Turais, isn't it? This is —"

          "Zeta Mayflower!" her friend greeted enthusiastically with a distinct southern American drawl. It was then Turais realised Alex was missing, and a quick glance around found his friend hiding behind a column nervously. "It's great to meet you in person finally! But listen, I'm looking for someone, and Lauren says he resembles your friend." 

          "Is he tall, dark, and devilishly handsome? Because you've found him," Jonty chimed in with a charming grin, earning delightful laughter from both girls. "My name is Jonathan Steward, but please call me Jonty."

          "Well, Jonty , do you happen to know him?" Zeta carefully pulled out a magazine from her purse and showed an image of Alex on the front cover. "He should be a Hogwarts student —"

          Her gaze fell on something behind them. With a loud squeal, she dashed towards where Alex was hiding.

          "Oh my gods! It's really you!" 

          Alex shrank back. "Er… do I know you?"

          "No, but I know you," Zeta exclaimed, rushing to Alex's side with a long, swan quill in her hand, gazing up adoringly. "Will you sign this photograph, please? Write, 'Dearest Zeta' with a heart beside it."

          Zeta managed to slip away just before a crowd of fans closed in on Alex, all eager with their quills and shouting for his autograph.

          "May I borrow this for a moment?" asked Turais, snatching the signed magazine from Zeta's grasp.

 

TEEN VARNISH

July 1974

 

Broadstrokes: Britain's Next Generation of Most Eligible Bachelors

 

My darlings, blue and gray are positively in vogue!

Submitted by the ever-so-talented Rho Picquery — a veritable gem among Teen Varnish's contributors (and yes, the granddaughter of former President Picquery, not to be mistaken for the Manhattan's Upper East Side Picquery family) — during the British and Irish Quidditch league finals, her photograph features a dashing young man with striking gray hair. His piercing blue eyes gazed at something just beyond the frame with a hint of melancholy, or a wistful longing for that which remains just out of reach….

Is it the newest Nimbus 1702? Or a secret crush? Or a ticket to the Mayfair Teen Varnish Ton on March 24th? 

The questions are endless, and so is the intrigue! This captivating figure has already sent young American witches and wizards into a delightful tizzy.

Who is this mysterious gentleman? What secrets lie behind his enchanting yet guarded demeanor? All will be unveiled in next month's edition!

 

          Turais plunged into the crowd to rescue Alex as Zeta shrieked, "My autograph!"

          Ignoring her, Turais managed to escape with Alex to a secluded nook on the second floor of the manor.

          "What happened?" Alex gasped. Turais handed him the magazine, and Alex's eyes widened in panic. "What do I do? I'll be stuck here with them for the rest of summer…." 

          "It's just a fad, and they'll soon find someone else to obsess over…."

          "You reckon?"

          "Yes, and if all else fails, feel free to send that rag a topless photograph of me. It should whip everyone into a proper frenzy and throw them off your scent," Turais said, and Alex coughed in surprise. "By the way, how's Regulus?"

          "Truth be told, I haven't seen much of him at all. He gets up before dawn and only comes back just before midnight. I confronted him once, and he snapped at me, saying it was none of my business."

          "My father hasn't noticed?"

          "He's been too busy to notice," replied Alex. "And Kreacher covers for Regulus. He's always been his favourite."

          "Have you been able to confirm where he disappears to?"

          "Severus and Barty's, I suppose, according to the Floo records —"

          Turais motioned for silence at the sudden sound of a distant, muffled argument and whispered, "Do you hear that?" 

          Alex shook his head. 

          Turais pressed his ear against the floorboards and heard the vibration of footsteps drawing nearer. Lux's feather grew warm in his pocket. Turais immediately drew the curtains around them and slid open the window. Looking down, he saw a leafy bush several feet below.

          "Jump!" Turais whispered urgently, casting a non-verbal Silencing Charm around them. 

          Alex leapt out without hesitation as two men rounded the corner. Suddenly, Turais caught a scent in the air, reminiscent of something he had noticed while leaving Hogwarts for the Quidditch league match. However, this was a twisted, decayed version of it — a thick, suffocating odour with a burning acidity that clawed at the back of his throat.

          "— I told you to stay away from here," the first man hissed. 

          "You left me with no choice by ignoring my owls," the second man replied, his voice low and menacing.

          "There is nothing more to discuss. We had an agreement —" 

          A low, feral breath cut him off as the second man snarled, "We're not alone."

          Turais leapt out the window and summoned the Cloak of Invisibility to drape over their bodies. Once they were safe, Alex asked, "Where did this cloak come from?"

          "Well, there's this thing called magic." Turais donned a guileless expression as Alex shot him a withering glare. "And I'm sorry for the surprise. Lux's feather flared up."

          "What do you think it was trying to warn you of?" asked Alex, concerned.

          "It must be linked to those men, but I couldn't get a look at them," Turais said, furrowing his brows. "And how did they know I was there without using Homenum Revelio ?" 

          Alex stopped Turais. "Promise that you won't investigate this further. We leave in a few weeks, and it won't be our concern anymore."

          "Believe it or not, I've never been one to search for trouble —" 

          "And we mustn't make a habit of jumping out of buildings." 

          "It's rather unfair to place the blame on me. After all, you were the one who instigated it last time!" Turais's grin widened at Alex's pointed silence. "Besides, I know you miss the thrill."

          "After two blissful weeks away from you and your antics, I've come to realise that one must ration one's excitement —"

          "Admit it!"

          Alex rolled his eyes, failing to suppress a smile. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

 

***

 

          The following day, everyone awoke to a loud horn for their first joint training session.

          "I didn't even know there was a five o'clock in the morning until today," Jonty grumbled as they made their way to the stables. "Sweet Avalon, what is this horrid smell?!" 

          "This is a stable! What did you expect, Hoorah Henry?" snapped Pierricoeur, who was pinching his nose shut as well.

          "Not being here, frankly. And that's rich coming from you, Champagne Charlie."

          "Our château produces red wine!" Pierricoeur retorted. "Not that you would know the difference." 

          Jonty jabbed Turais painfully with his elbow when he noticed Imogen. "Oi, it's your girlfriend!"

          "She's not my —" 

          "That's Imogen?" Alex interjected.

          Turais frowned at the tone. "Yes, why?"

          "Simply pleased to put a face to the name finally," Alex said coolly.

          "You've done well for yourself, mate," Jonty said, giving Turais a hearty slap on the back.

          "Welcome, everyone!" Imogen shouted as they gathered in a circle around her. "Please quiet down —"

          "Are these the new crop of townies ?" Athelstan interjected as he strode into view. "And is Eleanor still hiding? I don't blame her, though. After what happened, I'd hole up in shame as well —" 

          "She's feeling unwell —" Imogen shot Athelstan a warning glare when he snorted derisively, before turning back to the gathered group. "Today, you will be choosing your ride —"

          Jonty suddenly let out a string of curses. "I just stepped in bloody horse muck!" 

          Imogen's eyes met Turais's, but she swiftly looked away and avoided looking his way for the remainder of the speech. Yet, as the others selected their rides, she approached him and beckoned him to follow her outside.

          "Hey," she whispered.

          "Hey," Turais whispered back.

          A charged silence enveloped them. Finally, Turais ventured, "About yesterday morning… Did I do something to offend you?"

          "No, quite the contrary…." Imogen replied. "You were brilliant. Extraordinarily so, in fact…. I suppose I'm just starting to grasp what you meant earlier, how nothing is truly normal. It took me years to finally produce a spring, but upon your first try, you summoned a storm…."

          "Oh… I see," Turais felt a warmth spread across his cheeks. "And, what was it you wished to discuss in private?"

          Imogen blinked, and then her eyes flitted nervously. "Oh! Eoghan told me that you are due to pay him a visit!"

          "Ah." Turais nodded. "Is that all?"

          "And… and you should bring him some mead from the village… and be prepared to say no if he asks you to drink with him."

          "Of course."

          There was another pause before Imogen asked, "So, what have you been up to —?"

          "Imogen!" Athelstan's voice called out. They sprang apart, suddenly aware of how close they had been. "What are you doing outside? Eponius is looking for you." 

          Imogen's gaze lingered on Turais for a moment longer before she stepped back inside, leaving Athelstan to glare at him with utter loathing.

 

***

 

          In the afternoon, Imogen guided the group into the woods and demonstrated various survival skills for when they might be separated from their group without a wand or staff.

          "Now, form groups of three. One person will forage for food, another will construct the shelter, and the third will start the fire," she announced.

          Turais and Alex swiftly constructed the shelter, creating a frame with branches and insulating it with leaves and moss. By the time Jonty returned from foraging, a fire was crackling merrily beneath a bubbling cauldron.

          "Splendid work! Seems like we're the only ones who've managed!" Jonty cried excitedly as he sat down beside them. "Well, look what I've found!" 

          He opened the basket and revealed a wide selection of fresh produce, some meat, eggs, and a knob of butter.

          "That's a funny way to say you nicked from the kitchen," replied Alex wryly.

          "She didn't specify where to look," said Jonty with faux innocence. "Besides, Hogwarts chose to teach us twelve ways to defang a fanged geranium instead of something practical like where vegetables grow. For all we know, aubergines could be found in the Scottish wilderness."

          Feeling quite hungry, Turais decided to overlook the flawed logic and began preparing their meal. Before long, the air was filled with the enticing scents of bacon and eggs, drawing in their hungry peers.

          Soon, Imogen came along to inspect their work.

          "No magic detected in the construction of the shelter or the fire… However, I see that you have completely lost sight of the object of foraging," Imogen said with a wry smile. "That said, I must admit this is quite a beautiful spread. So I'll let it slide this once."

          "It was all thanks to him," said Jonty, who sent Turais stumbling toward Imogen with a playful shove.

          "It's quite impressive," said Imogen, covering up a grin.

          "That's only because I had an equally impressive instructor."

          Imogen blushed. "I was wondering… if you have time to visit Eoghan with me after this…."

          "I promised to meet with my schoolmates," Turais said regrettably. "They're showing me around the grounds for Munich Combined."

          "Don't tell me you'll be competing in that as well!" Jonty interjected. "Where do you find the time?"

          "Oh, would you mind if I joined you?" Imogen asked.

          "Of course not," Turais said quickly. "But what about Eoghan?" 

          "He can manage a day or two without some mead; it might even do his health some good."

          After the lesson was concluded, Turais and Imogen made their way south down the valley, where Alice and Frank were waiting by the gates. 

          "Hey, Turais!" Alice greeted them with a warm smile. "And I see you've brought a friend." 

          "Imogen, this is Alice and Frank," Turais said. "They're my schoolmates." 

          "Pleasure to meet you both," Imogen replied.

          "Are you familiar with the rules?" asked Alice as they entered one of the training arenas.

          Imogen shook her head sheepishly. "I should…. considering the premier training grounds are located in Glenfaelad." 

          "No worries! Munich Combined is a sport that emerged from the witch-hunting traditions of 17th-century Bavaria. Mischievous witches and wizards would pretend to flee from their Muggle persecutors before ambushing them with jinxes and confusing riddles. The modern competition evaluates a champion's combined skills of wayfinding, duelling, and ciphering. It's typically held in a forest and consists of two stages. In the first stage, four champions compete along a circuit of twelve landmarks. Once you collect at least six tokens, you will be transported to the second stage. There are two ways to gain tokens: for each landmark you reach, you earn a token. If you encounter another champion and best them in a duel, you claim all of their tokens. In the second stage, also known as 'The Vault,' you claim victory by either reaching the trophy or defeating all your opponents."

          "Does it mean you can advance to the second stage without duelling anyone?" asked Imogen.

          "Yes, but collecting six tokens that way usually takes longer, putting you at a disadvantage upon entering the second stage. Additionally, many arenas are designed to increase the likelihood of champions crossing paths to encourage duelling," answered Frank, holding up a metallic wand. "Also, personal wands are prohibited; competitors must use a competition wand which allows only a limited set of spells. Are the rules clear?" 

          Imogen nodded as they reached a clearing marked by a ring of flags suspended mid-air.

          "Here, since you'll be training with us, this is for you," said Frank, handing a competition wand to Turais.

          Alice announced, "So, this is one of the starting positions in the arena. When the round begins, the clue to your first landmark will appear."

          An envelope materialised before Turais. He tore it open and read:

Head east to the path where the sunlight looms, 

With flittering bulbs and bouncing blooms; 

Seek out the stone pillars, curve left, then right; 

The next task is waiting, just out of sight.

          "The clue is typically presented as a riddle," explained Frank as they continued on their way. "In certain rounds, the match organisers design the arena with a particular theme. If you can identify the pattern, it will help you look out for specific clues." 

          At the end of the trail was a herb garden brimming with various plants. Amid the many scents, Turais detected a faint hint of wormwood and asphodel, even though those plants were not seen in the garden.

          "Is someone brewing a Sleeping Draught?" Turais asked idly as his gaze fell on a flobberworm climbing from a tendril of a flitterbloom onto the neighbouring stem of a bouncing bulb. Looking ahead, he noticed a row of stone pillars. "Over that way. We must be getting close."

          As they neared the first landmark, the scent of the Sleeping Draught intensified. When he cast Revelio , he discovered a golden token and a bubbling cauldron containing an unfinished potion.

          A corked vial and the next clue appeared. Alice explained to Imogen: "At certain landmarks, you must solve a task before proceeding. When completed, it may also provide an item which may be crucial for future tasks."

In the cauldron stirs a potion of dreams, 

But one last touch is needed, it seems;

Once perfected with care, fill a vial with haste, 

For your next task awaits, with no time to waste.

          "That's where the smell came from," Turais confirmed with a quick sniff. "And the flobberworm mucus is missing. Let's head back to the herb garden." 

          "But Turais, you must have an exceptional sense of smell to detect a Sleeping Draught hidden under a suppression ward from so far away," Frank said as they retraced their steps.

          Turais's ear perked up at the slightest tremor in the ground beneath his feet. A ring of flags suddenly materialised above as he spun around and shouted, " Expelliarmus! "

          The other boy's wand fell to the ground with a dull thud. 

          "Eustace?" Turais blinked in surprise.

          "Turais?"

          "I thought you were summering in the Caribbean this year!" Turais laughed, hugging the other boy. "What brought you here?"

          "I only found out a few days ago! My parents have some last-minute business to attend to nearby," replied Eustace. "Emma is also in the arena somewhere, if only I can track her down…."

          "Unfortunately, my brothers aren't around to find her," Turais joked, prompting a chuckle from the other boy.

          "We do have an emergency Portus charm," said Alice. After a flick of her wand, Emma appeared beside them with a pop.

          "That's rude! I was in the middle of something!" she shouted, punching Eustace until she realised there was company. "Turais! It's been so long!" 

          "How do you three know each other?" Frank asked curiously.

          "We met during the last World Cup," answered Eustace.

          "Well, Frank and I had arranged for Eustace to surprise you and demonstrate what happens when two champions come into close proximity," Alice explained. "As you saw, it creates a duelling circle which prevents either champion from leaving until one of you is eliminated. Naturally, the person who initiates the ambush has a significant advantage, but not this time."

          "Are we done here?" asked Emma. "Turais, we should catch up —" 

          Alice glanced between Turais and Imogen and interjected, "Did you forget that you promised to join a friendly with us and the others? You too, Eustace."

          "We did?" Emma replied, looking puzzled.

          Alice continued, "Imogen, it wouldn't be too much trouble if I asked you to show Turais around, would it?" 

          "Not at all," Imogen answered quickly.

          "Brilliant! See you around, Turais!" Alice said before herding the others away.

          "I'm not sure why they were in such a rush to leave," Turais said.

          "Don't worry about it," Imogen replied with a smile. 

          "So, do you know your way around this arena well?" 

          Imogen nodded eagerly. "I know it as a forest, not an arena. Would you like me to show you my favourite spot?"

          "I'd like that."

          Imogen took Turais's hand, and his heart raced as if it might leap right out of his chest. They continued their leisurely stroll through the forest until a sudden gasp from Imogen shook him out of his reverie.

          "Oh gods," she whispered, running up to the body of a direwolf lying across their path. Its chest was rising and falling weakly in laborious breaths.

          "How can we help it?" asked Turais.

          Imogen shook her head, sorrow etched in her face. "There is only one thing left to do." 

          She placed a gentle hand on the direwolf and reached into her bag to pull out several crystals. After carefully arranging them into a floating constellation, she closed her eyes and positioned the staff gently against the creature's forehead.

          "Bheir seo sìth dhuibh, (May this bring you peace,)" she murmured.

          The direwolf's eyes dimmed, and Turais gently closed its eyes. After a moment, Imogen whispered, "It's not safe here. We must leave."

          The return journey was sombre. After reporting the incident to Lady Swindon and Eponius, Turais said, "Tell me, what troubles you?"

          "Fifteen years ago, the Cairngorms endured a devastating poaching crisis, and my parents lost their lives," Imogen replied, her voice trembling. "What if the poachers have indeed returned? My parents' death would have been all for nought."

          Turais took a deep breath and squeezed her hand gently. "Their sacrifice wasn't for nothing. They fought to protect the lands you grew up on and learnt to love and cherish." 

          "What if I cannot safeguard these lands and their legacy?"

          "You won't face this alone. I will help you in any way I can," Turais promised. "But first, let's wait for news from Eponius. Only then can we plan our next steps —"

          Imogen suddenly stepped forward and enveloped him in a warm embrace.

          "Thank you," she whispered.

          Turais started to put his arms around her, but he remembered himself and lowered them once more.

          "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

          There was a loud, continuous horn, then purple smoke poured out of the many chimneys of Ardsheal House, taking the form of several eagles that shot off into different directions.

          Imogen wiped her eyes dry and said, "The Council is convening. Let's go." 

 

***

 

          In the dimly lit room, Lady Swindon sat at the head of a long, wooden table with Turais and Imogen standing behind her. One by one, the council members arrived in swirls of purple mist until only one seat remained.

         Just then, the door creaked open to reveal a man of imposing stature. He wore a dark cloak that swept the floor, its fabric shimmering subtly in the low light. His amber eyes scanned the room, until they landed on Turais, and he asked, "This is a council meeting. What is this boy doing here?"

          "Turais played an important role in uncovering the matter we will discuss today, Egbert," replied Lady Swindon.

          With a final glare, the man took his seat, and Lady Swindon started, "I have gathered you all at this late hour because I have received troubling news. Two of our young members have found a direwolf poisoned in the training arenas near the southern border."

          "What was the poison?" asked Mrs Berryfrost.

          "Acokanthera," replied Eponius. "As there were no external wounds, the direwolf likely ingested meat contaminated with the poison. However, its origin cannot be determined —"

          "Who else could it be?" Egbert retorted angrily. "This is a deliberate act against us and the integrity of our territory. I have always warned everyone in this room that the Southerners should never be trusted, with few exceptions…."

          "There is no evidence to suggest it was the work of our southern neighbours," Lady Swindon said calmly.

          "My Lady, you don't suggest that one of our people committed this treacherous act?"

          "I won't dismiss any possibilities until the evidence deems it appropriate." 

          "And yet you wonder why many question your loyalty to the Hunting Clans…" Egbert scoffed. Turning to the others, he asserted, "My fellow comrades, the evidence is clear that we must strengthen our defences along the border. I propose we begin by relocating our forces in the north to the south."

          "I trust you would also support the establishment of a special council to investigate the incident," said Lady Swindon. "After all, it's equally important to uncover all the facts, isn't it, Egbert?" 

          "As you wish, my Lady."

          Turais tuned out the heated discussion that followed, distracted by the faint but nauseating stench surrounding the man.

          When the meeting ended, the waxing moon was high in the night sky. Imogen and Turais took a stroll in the gardens.

          "Who was that man with amber eyes?" asked Turais. "The one who was last to arrive."

          "He's Athelstan's father, Egbert Glencraft, representative of the northern clans," Imogen replied. "Why?" 

          Turais recounted the strange encounter with the two men in the corridor.

          "You recognised his scent?" she asked.

          "I am aware of how absurd it sounds."

          "It is…. But it explains how you detected the Sleeping Draught from afar and how you noticed me approaching by the dolmen …." 

          "And I bet he is also behind the direwolf's death," Turais muttered darkly. "Perhaps we could return to the area and search for evidence?"

          Imogen shook her head in resignation.

          "Direwolves seldom hunt beyond their territory. We must have inadvertently wandered into their domain to find the body, and we were fortunate to have left unscathed. It is not wise to return and search that area blindly, particularly considering our circumstances…."

          "What do you mean?"

          "Direwolves have long memories and bear fierce grudges against their foes. Last time you were attacked, I wounded a few to fend them off. They likely took note of our scents. If they catch even the slightest sniff of us, they won't hesitate to strike with full force. It's not worth risking your life for this investigation," she said. "And as you heard in the council meeting, my aunt will station more forces in the area. Hopefully, it will be enough to deter them until we can uncover who is behind these strange occurrences."

 

***

 

          Returning to his shared room with Alex and Jonty, Turais's nose was immediately assaulted by the mixed scents of citrus and cedarwood.

          "What's this smell?" coughed Turais.

          "Finally decided to make an appearance, have you? You've been spending far too much time away from the rest of us," Jonty remarked, holding up a delicate bottle of eau de toilette for Turais to inspect. "'Pining.' Matches our surroundings, doesn't it? It almost allows one to overlook the ghastly lack of amenities here…."

          "And what is all this?" Turais gestured at the exorbitant trunk-turned-walk-in-closet that filled most of the room. Luxurious garments rested neatly on mannequins and shelves overflowed with designer shoes and accessories.

          "Jonty's emergency owl order," replied Alex, sounding surly. 

          "Barely fit it through the window. One does marvel at how I managed to survive two nights with only one type of shampoo and no hair oils. I can finally enjoy a good night's sleep with these new goose-down pillows. The ones filled with duck-down leave me with a crick in my neck." 

          There was a loud chirp as a Scottish crossbill landed on the windowsill. Turais took the note from its leg, which read: 

T,  I would like to have a chat tonight. You know where to find me. - I.

          Turais frowned, having spoken with Imogen not too long ago. However, concern took precedence as he quickly donned a cloak.

          "You're heading out again?" Jonty asked.

          Turais nodded, placing the note on his bed. "I'll be back late."

          When he arrived at the treehouse, Turais discovered Athelstan was waiting for him instead.

          "So, it is you," Athelstan growled. "You're the one Imogen has been secretly meeting this spring. She's my future bride —"

          "I daresay Imogen would have something to say about that —"

          "Keep her name out of your mouth!"

          Athelstan lunged forward with his staff. In one swift motion, Turais drew his wand and aimed it at the staff, freezing it mid-swing. Athelstan retaliated with a spell, but Turais blocked it with a shield charm and sent the boy tumbling onto his back with a Knockback Jinx .

          "Today has been quite an ordeal, and I don't need you to complicate it further. Walk away now while you are still able to," Turais warned.

          "She knows why you're here," Athelstan growled, and Turais froze. "Everyone can see through you and your grandfather's pathetic little scheme —"

          "I don't owe you an explanation, but I find myself giving one if only to let this conversation end," returned Turais. "I do not intend to pursue a romance with her."

          Athelstan scoffed as he retrieved his staff and mounted his aethonan. "You'd best keep your word. Otherwise, you'll have some trouble headed your way."

 

***

 

          As Turais returned to Ardsheal House, he saw a flicker of light between the bushes where three girls were sitting by a fire, unaware of his presence. 

          "— you know, for someone with the most charming smile, he really doesn't smile a lot," Zeta said. "I haven't seen him crack a grin even once! And he's way too shy."

          "I'd go further. He has the personality of a Flobberworm," said Lauren.

          "But you know what they say about the quiet ones between the sheets —"

          "Stop it, Cassidy!" Zeta giggled loudly.

          "You ought to know better than to speak ill of others behind their back," Turais announced angrily, much to the girls' chagrin, before continuing on his way. He climbed the stairs when a loud door slam echoed through the hallway. Alex's voice followed, laced with urgency.

          "— I don't know what you're talking about!"

          "I'm just looking out for you! The both of you!" Jonty shouted.

          Turais rounded the corner, and his friends stopped arguing.

          "What are you two discussing?" asked Turais.

          Alex brushed past Turais without a word. Turais started to follow, but Jonty held him back. "Give him some space."

          "What's going on?" Turais demanded.

          "It's been a bit of a circus around Alex lately, and he's not been handling it well. You know how it is…." 

          Remembering the girls sitting nearby, Turais gave chase. However, the campfire had already been extinguished. Searching around the village, he found Alex lying on the gentle banks of a serene lake.

          "May I?" Turais asked, gesturing to the spot next to him. 

          "You never need to ask," whispered Alex with a sniff.

          Turais lay down in the grass beside him and looked up at the starry sky. "You know, I've always dreamt of living in a cottage in the country… somewhere quiet… where I could watch the stars until they fade away…."

          "That sounds lovely," said Alex. "Is there anyone with you?" 

          Turais smiled and shook his head.

          "No. Does it sound a bit lonely?"

          "What about Imogen?" Alex said, bitterness lacing in his tone. Turais's smile disappeared, and Alex sat up, his brows knitted with concern. "I've noticed the way you look at each other. There's… something between you two, isn't there?"

          "Not quite, but in time, perhaps," breathed Turais. "It doesn't really matter, though. There's no future for us…."

          "What do you mean?"

          "There's more at stake than what happens between us. I may be tempted into romantic pursuits, but the potential repercussions are too severe to justify the risks…." Turais trailed off. "I'm not making much sense, am I?"

          "No, I understand," Alex whispered. "It's like finding someone who you're meant to be with, but you can't…."

          Turais nodded. 

          "Yeah… something like that.…"

          "Why won't you fight for it? As you've fought for everything else."

          "It's not always about fighting. Sometimes, it's about protecting, and this is the only way I know how…."

          "From what?"

          "From me . I find myself forever at the centre of a growing web of dark schemes. Should our lives become further entwined, this too will be her fate," said Turais. "I cannot allow this to happen, even if it means ignoring my desires."

          "But does she not deserve a choice?"

          "That is why I will deny her before our bond deepens and my actions become more indefensible…."

          A breeze swept across the landscape and rustled the leaves, as if the forest was letting out a deep sigh. 

          "What about us?" Alex asked shakily. Turais felt his throat tighten. "You've drawn me into your orbit and altered the path of my life. Will you one day sever ties with me for the same reason? Because I refuse. I won't allow you to cast me aside out of fear or some misguided act of self-sacrifice. Please ."

          Turais remained silent, unable to answer. For a long while, they sat there with the irreconcilable truths hung between them. 

          Then, Alex let out a sigh and whispered, "Are you truly determined to never fall in love with anyone?"

          "Only a fool would think he wields control over his heart. And yet, I suppose that is what I am…."

          "So you are resolved never to marry?"

          Turais nodded.

          "But what about your grandfather? Surely, he'll force a marriage upon you."

          "We shall see if his ambitions can outlast my resolve…."

          Another long pause ensued. 

          Finally, Alex said, "In that case, you'll find me in the neighbouring cottage. If you're ever in need of company, perhaps… we can be lonely together…."

          Turais turned to find Alex looking at him with a silent, desperate plea, imploring him to understand something beyond words. 

          He smiled and gave Alex a small flick on the forehead.

          "Don't be silly. You'll find someone before then. But you're always welcome to visit."

          Alex's shoulders sagged. Then he stood up abruptly, hiding his face in the shadows, as his voice quivered with frustration. "I'm no longer the terrified little boy you found in the rose garden."

          With that, he walked away, leaving Turais more confused than ever.

 

***

 

          The following morning, Imogen brought Turais to the edge of a cliff. Below it lay the wizarding hamlet of Feldcroft nestled in the shadow of the castle ruins, where a faint stream of smoke was rising gently. It was a magnificent view that Turais couldn't appreciate as yesterday's conversation echoed in his mind.

          He was startled by a tap on his shoulder.

          "Turais?" Imogen asked. "Are you ready?"

          "Yes, of course," he said with a tight grin.

          "Today, I will equip you with the skills necessary to craft your own staff," Imogen explained. "The carving of the staff is a most sacred act of creation — a metamorphosis of a mere object into a steadfast companion for all which lies ahead. From the selection of your branch to the inscription of runes, it is essential to maintain a strong connection with your innermost self, your stone, and the forest which surrounds you. Let your thoughts flow freely, yet be mindful, as each stroke of the knife must be measured and purposeful.  

          "A staff is not crafted in a single day. It took me three months to create mine," Imogen continued, displaying her quarter-staff adorned with intricate carvings that spanned most of its length. "Yours may take less time — or perhaps more. Only you will know when it is complete. However, I can sense you are not in the right state of mind to begin such an important task…."

          Mustering his courage, Turais nodded.

          "Imogen, there is something I wish to discuss. For the past weeks, I have noticed your affections towards me, but I'm sorry to say that they are misplaced."

          Imogen's smile faltered.

          "Is this about your grandfather's scheme?" she asked quietly. "If it is, I've known for quite some time — long before we first met at Diagon Alley."

          Turais looked away in shame. "Then why did you continue to train me?" 

          Imogen walked around, forcing him to face her. "Do you truly not know the answer to that?"

          Turais shut his eyes and whispered, "I'm flattered, but I cannot… I'm not seeking a relationship, and I don't wish to waste any more of your time."

          Imogen felt silent for a long while. "When will you be ready?"

          "I don't wish to make promises I cannot keep."

          Imogen searched Turais's face, and her disappointed gaze slowly gained a determined glint. She drew a steadying breath and straightened her posture.

          "Very well. Then let us be friends. But know this — I intend to win you over." 

          "Imogen —" 

          "Grant me one summer. This summer ," she implored. "Perhaps my passion will fade, but before that happens, I wish to follow my heart…. and if I fail to move you by summer's end, I will accept your decision, whatever it may be."

          "You deserve better than this ambiguous answer."

          "I will be the one to decide what is best for me," Imogen said firmly. Then, more gently, "Simply because you can control your heart doesn't mean I can do the same. And unlike you, I do not wish to live with regret."

          Turais opened his eyes, and Imogen's unwavering gaze filled with an earnestness that both comforted and terrified him. After what felt like an eternity, he acquiesced with a nod.

          Imogen's expression of relief and joy shifted instantly as a deer staggered through the nearby shrubbery and collapsed at their feet, motionless. She rushed to the fallen creature and offered a quiet prayer.

          "Sugarshrub leaves," she whispered, carefully prising open the creature's mouth. "But this plant is not endemic to these forests. Who would be so cruel?"

          Turais sniffed the leaf. Immediately, he noticed the same sickly sweet scent in the air, drawing his gaze westward.

          "This way," he said, tracking the scent until his wandlight fell upon an unusual plant with glistening leaves that sparkled like snowflakes hidden within a bush. He poked the plant with his wand. It toppled over easily, exposing metallic pegs in place of roots. A milky latex oozed from its stem.

          "Acokanthera sap. Their camp must be nearby," said Imogen as Turais spotted a pile of broken glass nearby. He cast a Reparo wordlessly, and shards seemingly appeared out of thin air as the bottle reassembled itself. 

          Turais immediately concealed them in a dense fog and directed a silent Revelio in front of them. 

          An empty campsite came into view as if an invisible curtain had been drawn back. Between the tents lay an extinguished fire pit surrounded by empty, rusty cages. Yet, there was no stench of faeces nor the metallic tang of blood typical of a poacher's camp. Instead, a foul, overpowering musk clung to the air, and Turais's eyes widened in familiarity.

           Egbert Glencraft .

          Beside him, Imogen's fists tightened with anger.

Notes:

Friendzoned x2

The scent thickens…

See you in the next update!

- ravenclawblues 2025-01-31

Chapter 86: XIII

Notes:

Hey everyone,

Contrary to my initial, naive assumptions, starting a new job actually gives you less time to write (Who knew?). Nonetheless, here's a new update. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for all lovely comments and ongoing support!

- ravenclawblues 2025-04-08

Chapter Text

***

 

Beta read by Aeroway

 

***

 


CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

XIII


 

          "This is troubling news," Lady Swindon remarked with a frown after Imogen and Turais reported their findings. 

          "Egbert and the northern clans are undoubtedly behind this!" Imogen exclaimed. "I simply didn't realise they had sunk so low as to ally with poachers!"

          "We must let the evidence speak for itself," Lady Swindon warned. "I will dispatch my most trusted guards to conduct the investigation —"

          "Allow me to accompany them," Imogen urged. "I am a Hunter now —"

          "Imogen, your primary responsibilities lie with your students."

          "But —"

          "I have made my decision," Lady Swindon stated firmly. Imogen's entire body trembled with frustration, but she bowed and left the room. 

          Lady Swindon walked to the window and watched her niece disappear into the forest. Turais walked beside her and said, "My Lady, Voldemort has a hand in all this." 

          "You may be correct. My scouts have been tracking Egbert's movements for quite some time now. There has been an increase in suspicious activities in the north, but nothing threatens Glenfaelad, at least not for the moment. I have already quietly bolstered the defences along the border, and key mountain passes are being monitored. However, I've refrained from taking further action, as there may be more to this situation than we've uncovered. For one, I still can't make sense of the absence of any influx of poached creatures in Knockturn Alley or any other black market."

          Turais pondered for a while.

          "At the encampment, there was an unusual absence of poaching activity. But if a poaching operation doesn't poach, what purpose does it serve?"

          "That's why, now more than ever, we must proceed with caution," said Lady Swindon. "And Turais, I would like to ask a favour. Has Imogen mentioned the crisis from fifteen years ago?"

          He nodded solemnly. "Her parents lost their lives as a result."

          "Then you must understand that this is a very sensitive subject for both her and me…."

          "I will keep an eye on her," Turais promised. 

          Lady Swindon smiled. "Thank you, Turais."

 

***

 

          The following morning, Turais arrived in the clearing where he trained with Imogen and found her cleaning Cedalion's hooves. A loud bark greeted him — Skel was wagging his forked tail and demanding to be petted.

          "Am I this predictable?" Imogen muttered as he made his way across.

          "I can leave if you wish to be alone —" Turais began, but she covered his mouth with her hand.

          "Spar with me."

          It was both a command and a plea. Turais swallowed heavily and nodded.

          After several bouts, Imogen's mood brightened considerably, and Turais saw a carefree smile on her face for the first time in a long while.

          "He was my aunt's steed once," Imogen revealed as they returned to grooming Cedalion. "But one day, he refused to let her ride and remained unbonded until he found me." 

          Turais stopped mid-brush, eliciting a disgruntled whine from the stallion.

          "Is it a common occurrence?"

          "It's rare, but not unheard of. It takes a profound emotional shift to break such a bond, much like a Patronus changing form," she replied. "Also… you may leave if you wish. I know my aunt requested you to make sure I don't get into trouble. I promise I won't." 

          "What am I, your family crossbill? To be sent about and dismissed like that?" Turais huffed good-naturedly. 

          Imogen rolled her eyes. "I apologise, you're no crossbill. For causing such an offence, let me make it up to you." 

          "What did you have in mind?" Turais replied curiously.

          Imogen stepped forward, and in a low voice, she said, "Let me be your guide for your first hunt." 

 

***

 

         The air was filled with the earthy undertone of damp moss and the crisp fragrance of pine and heather. As they headed deeper into the woods, due west, a subtle hint of salt lingered in the breeze along with the faint cries of seagulls.

          "Nogtails are pests. They sneak into pigsties, bringing with them the blight that ruins a farmer's livelihood," Imogen explained as Skel paced in front of them, sniffing the air in search of their target. "They're also swift and tricky to catch. However, their awareness only extends to about a hundred yards — even less in broken timber. We can use that to our advantage. But most importantly, you must always feel the wind in your face when stalking, as it means you're downwind of your target.

          "If you can smell a nogtail, you're close enough to take the shot. Aim lower than you might expect, as its spine doesn't run parallel to its back; it dips down even lower —"

          Turais hushed Imogen as a distinct scent pierced through the forest's natural aroma, heavy with warmth and vulnerability. It smelled like nutty molasses, almost sweet —

          "This way," he murmured absently, allowing his instincts to guide him forward. Each step was measured, the soles of his boots pressing softly against the forest floor, and he was careful to avoid the crackle of twigs and the whisper of dried leaves.

          A rustle among the foliage caught his attention, followed by a fleeting movement. His gaze sharpened upon a creature with a bristly coat and narrow black eyes that resembled a diminutive piglet as it snuffled along the roots of an ancient tree.

          Turais's muscles coiled with tension, like a bowstring drawn taut, as he rested his staff upon the crook of his shooting stick.

          The spell rang true, and the creature let out a startled squeal before collapsing upon the ground. Skel leapt out from the thicket in an instant, barking with delight. 

          A gentle hand rested upon Turais's shoulder, and he blinked, suddenly aware that Imogen was crouching by his side.

          "Well done," she said. "Now, we must honour the spirit of the fallen."

          She knelt by the nogtail and beckoned for Turais to join her in a moment of solemn reverence. 

          "I hope you're not put off by blood," she warned, drawing her blade and deftly slicing the creature open from chest to tail. Then she reached inside and pulled out its entrails with a loud grunt. A few droplets of blood splattered across her chin, and Turais felt his throat go dry.

          "T… there's some…," Turais gestured at her face.

          She hastily wiped her face with his proffered handkerchief. "All gone?"

          "You missed a spot," he said. Imogen froze as he brushed her jaw with his thumb. "There...."

          Imogen cleared her throat and crouched by the pile of entrails. 

          "Didn't we decide that I'm supposed to be the one charming you?" 

          "I didn't intend to —"

          "Keep pretending, won't you?" she grumbled. Locating the nogtail's heart, she dipped her fingers in the warm blood and reached for Turais's face. "Don't move. I'm not up to something. It is a tradition to bestow the mark of a Hunter upon one's first kill."

          Imogen traced a crimson line across Turais's cheek, over the bridge of his nose, and onto the other side. Her gaze lingered on his face for a considerable time, until she flourished her staff and dug a shallow hole in the earth. 

          "You must offer the heart to the forest, in gratitude for the bounty it has provided us today."

          Turais carefully placed the heart within and covered it with soil.

          "Good. Now I'll demonstrate how to skin and quarter a nogtail. Use your knife to carefully cut the skin around the hind feet, then make a long incision along the body down to the front shoulder, like this."

          "May I try?" asked Turais, and Imogen handed him the knife.

          "That's it." Imogen leaned in and guided his hand with hers until the entire hide was laid bare. "Now, do you see this bit? It's the leaf lard. Perfect for making candles."

          As they continued to cut the meat, she asked, "Has your sense of smell always been this keen?"

          "I've only become aware of it recently… and I didn't realise how pronounced it was until now…"

          "You detected the nogtail before Skel did," Imogen said, feeding the crup a piece of loin. "It's unheard of for a human…"

          "Would it be due to my stone?" Turais asked.

          "I don't suppose so. The stone does not grant you enhanced powers, nor characteristics of your primary creature form…"

          After packing up the meat and burying the rest of the carcass, they headed back to the village, stopping by the taxidermist and gamekeeper before returning to Ardsheal House. They stood there for a long moment in comfortable silence, neither in a hurry to leave. 

          "Thank you for accompanying me today," Imogen finally said. "During a hunt, I can escape from everything, even if it is only for a few hours…."   

          "Thank you for inviting me along," replied Turais. "I had a brilliant time, and you were very impressive." 

          Imogen's cheeks pinked. "Would you care to join me again next time?"

          "If you'll have me." 

          Imogen stepped forward. Hesitating for a moment, she pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

          "It's a date." 

          As Turais watched Imogen walk away, he touched where her lips had brushed against his skin, and a soft smile crept across his face as he returned to the room.

          Turais was changing out of his soiled robes when Alex and Jonty returned, brooms in hand. Alex's gaze flickered from Turais's wide grin to his bare chest before turning away wordlessly.

          "My, my…" Jonty announced, striding into the room with a flourish. "We have a guest — is that… blood on your face?"

          "Imogen and I went on a hunt today. She said it's the mark of a hunter —"

          "Don't tell me you've already hunted down a nogtail?!" Jonty said with a melodramatic groan. "This is absurd. You must be breaking some sort of record!"

          Turais turned to Alex expectantly. However, the other boy stared fixedly at the floor, leaving him oddly deflated.

          Jonty cleared his throat with a loud cough. 

          "Alex and I played Quidditch against the Munich Combined team today. With the training arenas closed indefinitely, they're keen to have something to pass the time, and we'd like to enlist your Seeking talent."

          "I'll make sure to join next time." Turais grinned as he sat down beside Alex. With a playful nudge, he asked, "So, how was it —"

          Alex leaned away and muttered, "It's Quidditch. You of all people should know how it goes."

          Turais frowned. "Well… yes. I'm just surprised you went, considering you've never cared much for it —"

          "People change," Alex replied tersely, rising to his feet with finality. "Wash up. I don't want blood staining my bed sheets."

          "Alex —" Turais started, but his friend had already left the room, leaving a heavy silence behind.

          Turais looked to Jonty, who made a show of arming himself with a bottle of cologne and pinching his nose.

          "You really could use a bath. You stink of swine."

          Turais rolled his eyes. "It didn't seem to bother you a minute ago."

          Jonty responded by spritzing him with cologne.

 

***

 

          The following day, Turais made his long-overdue visit to the Eyrie. He spotted Eoghan tending to his herbs from a fair distance away when a whiff of rich, fresh leather suddenly wafted through the air. At that exact moment, Eoghan turned around, his expression clouded by a frown.

          "Your scent has changed." 

          Turais's heart stopped in surprise as the implications of the words registered in his mind.

          Picking up on his reaction, Eoghan continued slowly, "And I see that you're aware of it…."

          Forcing himself to breathe calmly, Turais entered the main room, his gaze fixed on Eoghan's back as the man cleared the table. Each sound was amplified — the clink of glassware, the rustle of parchments, the beating of his heart — as if the very air held its breath.

          "You're a werewolf," Turais said bluntly.

          Eoghan straightened and turned slowly, a bemused expression on his face.

          "You think I'm a werewolf…" Eoghan muttered. "Yet here you are, sharing the same space with me willingly… I'm intrigued as to how you arrived at this conclusion."

          "You noticed a change in my scent," replied Turais. "I've been told this only by one other. A werewolf." 

          "I see…" Eoghan said. "Have you considered that you're the one who has changed?"

          "I'm not a werewolf, if that is what you are suggesting."

          "I did not say that," Eoghan exhaled, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. He summoned two chairs with his staff. "There is much to discuss, and I believe a spot of mead is in order to ease the nerves and loosen the tongue…."

          Turais considered the man for a long moment. "Very well." 

          He found several mugs behind a near-empty jar of mallowsweet leaves and retrieved the largest pair.

          "I see you know how to impress an old man," Eoghan said, pouring the mead generously into each mug. However, Turais remained standing. "I assure you that I am no werewolf. I was, however, attacked by a direwolf when I was a wee lad. It was what left me with this limp, and I suspect you've had a similar experience."

          "After our first meeting," Turais responded with a nod. "Imogen and I came across several direwolves later that evening, and one wounded me. Thanks to her, I was healed without lasting damage… You believe that the direwolf's attack can alter our scents and senses?"

          "Direwolves are closely related to werewolves. It stands to reason that they have a similar expression of pathology resulting from their bites," Eoghan explained. "So, yes, it's a possibility." 

          "Yet you're not certain," Turais said, curiosity creeping into his voice.

          "No, I am not," Eoghan admitted. "The direwolf population has been on the brink of extinction for centuries and has only recently begun to recover. Encounters with them are rare, and survivors of attacks are rarer still. I am the first in living memory, and you are now one of but a handful of survivors."

          "Who are the others? And is Egbert one of them?"

          "They are mostly Healers within the Order who adhere to Mithridatism — the principle that ingesting poison in small doses can build an immunity. They were the ones who successfully developed the direwolf cure. However, they tested the cure by deliberately exposing themselves to direwolf bites. Many lost their lives as a result… but it was their choice to make…."

          The Principle of Mithridates.  

          "It just occurred to me that we might be taking the wrong approach for our lycanthropy treatment," Turais said, sitting down. "For all this time, we've attempted to halt the disease's progression through external remedies to no avail. What if we could train the body by subjecting it to a milder, yet sufficiently similar form of pathogen?"

          "For instance, if someone was previously exposed to a direwolf bite?" Eoghan responded. "Then, when faced with the actual lycanthropic pathogen, the body might mount a strong defence while we administer the cure to eliminate it. Yes, similar ideas have been proposed before. But such a treatment would be impossible to test. Do we house a transformed werewolf and expose someone to its bite while placing everyone involved at risk of lycanthropic infection or death? It is untenable, both practically and morally."

          "But should such a situation arise, you know what must be done?"

          Eoghan frowned at Turais. 

          "In theory, yes. But there is a vast gulf between theory and practice…." The man cleared his throat uncomfortably. "But why did you mention Egbert Glencraft's name?"

          Turais recounted his encounter in the corridor.

          "If Egbert's senses were similarly enhanced, then it may explain how I was discovered."

          "The direwolf cure is now common knowledge among the Hunters. He may have been attacked by a direwolf and recovered beyond my knowledge," Eoghan reasoned. 

          "If that's true, he must have recognised my scent at the meeting, and possibly at the poacher's encampment —"

          "Egbert is behind the poaching operations?" Eoghan interrupted. "Then things are more serious than I initially thought…."

          "How do you mean?" 

          Eoghan sighed heavily. "Things in the Cairngorms are not as peaceful as they seem. Whilst there has never been proof, whispers are abound that Egbert seeks to build an army —" 

          "Egbert threatens war?" gasped Turais. "Is Lady Swindon aware?" 

          Eoghan nodded. 

          "But until now, no evidence suggests such an army exists, and opinions differ on the seriousness of his threat. However, running a poaching operation would be the fastest and most reliable method to amass the gold and allies required to match his ambitions."

          Turais shook his head.

          "Lady Swindon mentioned there has been no significant influx of poached creatures in the black markets. Also, why would he push for more guards deployed on the southern border if it risks exposing both the poaching operation and his involvement?" Then, realisation struck him. "Unless there were never any poachers. He intended for someone to discover the camp all along —"

          "And by orchestrating such a diversion, he draws the Council's attention to the south, allowing his operations in the north to go unnoticed," Eoghan concluded. He summoned a map of the Cairngorms, scrutinising the details. "However, it is impossible to conceal an army large enough to take Glenfaelad without our knowledge…."

          "Voldemort," Turais stated. "I'm now convinced I overheard Eoghan conversing with one of his cronies. His forces are probably stationed beyond these borders, and they are either planning to or have already secured a way to circumvent the wards and smuggle themselves into the Cairngorms."

           "Such entrances and plans, if they exist, will likely be located in the north at Glencraft Fort. Unfortunately, I can't be of much assistance in that regard," Eoghan said, hitting his thigh in frustration.

          "But if Egbert is already suspicious of me, I cannot be seen travelling north without cause." 

          "There is an opportunity," Eoghan said, etching a line on the map. "Your group will travel for your first hunt tomorrow. Once you leave Glenfaelad, it will be difficult for Egbert to track your movements. Head north and set up camp near Loch Lomond. From there, it is possible to conduct reconnaissance trips on Glencraft Fort. But beware of Athelstan. He will be part of your hunting party, and we have no idea how involved he is, or whether he will relay information back to his father."

          "I will discuss this with Imogen. We will find a way," Turais promised.

          Returning to Glenfaelad, Turais searched the small clearing and the stables before finally making his way to the treehouse, but there was no sign of Imogen anywhere. As he pondered his next move, a voice called out from above, "Were you looking for me?" 

          Startled, Turais looked up to see Imogen leaning against the window of the treehouse. "When did you arrive?" 

          "I saw you approaching and shifted into my eagle form," she replied with a grin. "I didn't want you to think I was too predictable." 

          Turais climbed up to join her in the treehouse. With a somber tone, he relayed his conversation with Eoghan.

          "What are we waiting for?" interjected Imogen angrily. "We must act now!"

          "As Lady Swindon's niece and future Chieftain, you are undoubtedly under close scrutiny," Turais explained. "We cannot raise Egbert's suspicion if we wish to expose these crimes —"

          "Meanwhile, they are preparing to strike whenever it suits them!"

          "But as Eoghan pointed out, the army is not presently in the Cairngorms —"

          "What if he's wrong?! What if their army is infiltrating Glenfaelad as we speak?" Imogen exclaimed, shaking off Turais's hand.

          "Then trust in your aunt's judgement. She has been monitoring Egbert's activities and is all too aware of the potential risks." Turais replied patiently. Imogen stared at him for a long while before her shoulders sank, the fight leaving her. "We will take action. But we must do so without hastening their plans or risk them erasing all evidence of their wrongdoings." 

          "You're right…" she muttered wearily. "I wish I could be as composed as you." 

          "Your home is under threat; it's hardly fair to expect you to remain completely unaffected," Turais replied. "But you should know that I, too, care deeply about this." 

          Imogen took a deep breath and nodded, her determination returning. "I'll inform my aunt of our plan and finish the preparations for tomorrow's hunt." 

          "Do you need any help?" 

          Imogen shook her head. "You should rest. We have daunting days ahead of us."

 

***

 

          Throughout the rest of the day, Turais remained in his room, adding the final touches to his collection of spellcrafts, including the enhancements to the Decoy Detonators suggested by Pandora. 

          The waxing moon was high in the sky when he finally finished, but Jonty and Alex had still not returned. Suddenly, the door swung open with a loud bang. Jonty burst in, stumbling slightly as he struggled to keep a firm hold on a clearly inebriated Alex.

          Before Turais could respond, Alex wobbled forward and collapsed into his arms, the smell of mead and whiskey surrounding him. Looking up with a lopsided grin, he mumbled, "Turais, I've missed you…." He wrapped his arms around Turais and leaned in closer. "You know… They've got it all wrong…."

          "Who's got it wrong?"

          "Varnish! " Alex shouted in frustration. "I'm… I'm just Alex… But you're…. You're you…."

          "Alright. I'm me —" 

          "Nonono, you don't understand…." Alex pressed a finger to Turais's lips, silencing him. Just inches apart, his unfocused gaze wandered over Turais's face. "You're… you're —"  

          "It's time for bed," Jonty interjected loudly.

          Alex slapped Jonty's hands away and nestled his head in the crook of Turais's neck. "I'm comfortable here…." 

          Before long, the room was filled with gentle snores.

          "What possessed him to drink so much?" asked Turais.

          "I overheard him and Lavinia Swire discussing Wilkins and Potter's engagement."

          "How is that relevant?"

          Jonty met Turais's frown with an accusatory gaze. "You will never grasp it, will you?" 

          "Grasp what, precisely?"

          Jonty looked at the slumbering boy, a smile tinted with sorrow gracing his lips. Without answering Turais's question, he said, "Don't cast the Sobering Charm now. Let him sleep; Hecate knows he needs it."

          Jonty's words echoed in Turais's mind throughout the night. An hour before they were to gather at the stables, Turais awoke and made his way over to Alex's bed. He regarded the boy's serene features, illuminated by the soft moonlight, and drew his wand.

          "You're going to loathe me for this," Turais murmured. " Evigilante. "

          In an instant, Alex's eyes flew wide open. Grasping his head, he dashed to the bathroom and retched into the toilet bowl as Turais gently rubbed his back.

          "Feeling any better?" Turais inquired once the retching finally stopped. Alex nodded absently and wiped his mouth. "Here. Drink some water."

          When their fingers brushed, Alex's gaze stiffened, as if recalling something, and he pushed the goblet away. 

          "I'm fine now," he said, avoiding Turais's gaze. 

          "Do you want to talk about —" 

          "No. And if you don't mind, I need to wash up." 

          Turais exited the bathroom and heard the door slam shut behind him.

          After finishing their morning preparations, the trio walked to the stables in a tense silence. Turais noticed that a small group of older youths had also gathered in addition to their regular members. 

          Eustace slung an arm around Turais and gave him a broad grin. "Good morning! A bunch of Munich Combined team members decided to come along since the arenas are shut. They're mainly students from Durmstrang, though, since they're trained to hunt as part of their school curriculum —"

          Suddenly, there were several loud flaps of wings, followed by a painful jab in Turais's shoulder.

          "Where did you come from?" Eustace exclaimed in horror, turning to find a severely scowling Imogen behind them.

          "Turais, I need to speak with you. Privately ," she insisted, pulling him away. She hissed once they were out of earshot, "What were you thinking? You were this close to becoming a notch on someone's bedpost!"

          Turais frowned.

          "What do you mean?"

          "That Pommel chap. I can't believe you fell for it!" Imogen hissed. "I heard he bedded a Beauxbatons girl last week. Then, yesterday, I saw him return from the forest with one of the Durmstrang lads, looking thoroughly… debauched ."

          Imogen's genuine expression of concern caused Turais to burst into laughter. 

         "Eustace is a friend. Besides, I prefer your company, but don't tell him I said that." Imogen's cheeks pinked in an adorable rosy hue as he continued, "Is this all you wished to discuss with me?"

          She blinked.

          "W… Well, no!" she stammered, discreetly pressing a neatly-packed pouch into his hands. "This! This is your set of emergency potions. In addition to the usual bezoar, Blood-Replenishing, Skele-Gro, and Wiggenweld, I also packed Thunderbrew and —" 

          Imogen picked up the vial of liquid that resembled mud.

          "Polyjuice?" he gasped. "How on earth did you get hold of that?"

          "It's from my aunt's private stores," Imogen whispered. "I thought it might come in handy."

          "Thank you. I've prepared something for you as well," Turais said, rummaging through his robe pockets.

          "Oh, you didn't have to…." she trailed off, looking pleased.

          Turais handed her two spellcrafts and a fake Galleon. "Decoy Detonator, if you need a loud distraction, Instant Darkness Powder for a quick escape, and the fake Galleon for instant communication." 

          "Did you make these?" she whispered in awe.

          "Yes. It's not that impressive, really…."

          However, Imogen clutched the items tightly to her chest and muttered, "Thank you…." 

          Just then, Erebus let out a mournful whine nearby. Turais entered the stall and patted his coat soothingly. "Hey, Erebus. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to bring you along this time. I promise we'll go together next time, alright?"

          As Turais turned to leave, he suddenly realised the thestral had clamped his teeth onto his ankle with no signs of letting go.

          "Hey, it'll be alright. I'll only be gone for a few days," Turais repeated, but Erebus grew increasingly agitated and started pulling him further into the stall. Turais attempted to back away, but the thestral dragged him onto the ground and blocked the exit. "Easy now!"

          However, Erebus's milky eyes shone with distress. In that moment, as the thestral made its way towards the darkest corner of the stall, Turais caught a glimpse of his wings — now whole and in full extension — shimmering in an ethereal and ghostly light.

          There was a shout, and the thestral's body instantly slackened.

          "Are you injured?" Imogen gasped worriedly as Eponius carefully placed the sedated thestral onto the ground.

          Turais shook his head, eyes wide with confusion.

          "I don't understand what had gotten into him. And did you see his wings?"

          "What about his wings?"

          Turais glanced back at Erebus, lying on the ground with his damaged wings in plain sight.

          "I... never mind —"

          Athelstan sauntered by, followed by Niamh, Ailsa, and a wan-looking Eleanor. She appeared paler and thinner than the last time he saw her. Turning to Imogen, Turais inquired, "Eleanor is joining us?"

          "She assured us that she's well enough for it. And it's good that she's finally resolved to move on from what transpired." Imogen pressed her voice low and murmured. "It would be advantageous for us, as I can delegate my tasks to her and free up time for our investigations."

          "What did Lady Swindon make of our plan?"

          "She's... not keen on the idea... but she understands the necessity," Imogen replied.

          "We'll make sure we have good news to bring back."

 

***

 

          "So, do you want me in the front or at the back?" Turais asked as they made their way towards the row of winged horses. Imogen let out a snort, and Turais knocked his shoulder into hers out of exasperation. "You know what I mean."

          "I don't —" 

          Turais covered Imogen's mouth, but she licked his palm.

          "Ugh!" he exclaimed, wiping his hand on her sleeve. "You'll get on brilliantly with Sirius —" 

          "Quit yapping and mount Cedalion! And you're going behind me," Imogen said, giving Turais a shove towards the aethonan. "Last time, all I got was a view of your backside."

          Turais leaned in and whispered, "So, are you giving me a proper view this time?" Imogen coughed in surprise. "You know, two can play this game."

          "I've created a monster," she muttered, but unable to hide her grin.

          A minute later, everyone was soaring through the morning skies on their winged steeds and flew westward until they reached the coast. Then, under Imogen's lead, they turned north. Almost immediately, Athelstan soared up beside them and demanded, "Where are we going?"

          "Loch Lomond," Imogen replied. "The direwolves have recently migrated south. I want us to be as far away from them as possible." 

          "When was this decided?"

          "Did I forget to mention it in the previous meeting? Well, now you know."

          Athelstan glared at Imogen, then at Turais, before veering off.

          "Is it wise to antagonise him?" Turais asked quietly.

          "I really shouldn't," replied Imogen. "But I can't help myself."

          "His face does look extremely hex-able," Turais hummed in agreement, and Imogen chuckled.

          After a few minutes, they descended beside a tranquil loch. Imogen promptly organised everyone into teams and started handing out tasks.

          "… Athelstan will oversee the construction of the campsite, while Eleanor's team will forage. Turais and I will hunt for tonight's meal —" 

          "Why are you taking him instead of a Hunter?" Athelstan hissed as Turais and Imogen remounted Cedalion.

          "If I recall, you fought to be in charge of the campsite," Imogen replied. "Besides, Turais has already hunted his first nogtail. I have complete faith in his abilities."

          They promptly set off into the forest and set up a few traps near the riverbanks.

          "Those are merely for show," Imogen explained as they trotted towards Glencraft Fort. "I brought the nogtail meat we hunted last time, along with a few hares I trapped yesterday. We should have more than enough to feed everyone. And we're getting close…" 

          A castle was just visible above the foliage when a scent suddenly wafted into Turais's nostrils. It was a blend of decay and something more primal.

          "What is it?" asked Imogen when Turais gestured to halt.

          "A mixture of scents… Similar to Egbert's, but not quite the same…." 

          "Follow it," Imogen urged, dismounting Cedalion.

          They soon found themselves crouching before a small clearing halfway up the mountain.

          "The trail ends here," whispered Turais.

          "I frequent these parts. There should be an abandoned cottage here."

          "Perhaps it was concealed with purpose," Turais replied grimly, pointing his wand at the seemingly empty space. " Revelio. "

          A shimmering light danced ominously around the clearing as the outline of a dilapidated cottage materialised before them. A crooked door hung from rusted hinges, creaking ominously as it swayed. Inside, every window was boarded up with planks of wood, while the walls were covered in a repeating pattern of crosses and parallel scratch marks. Half a dozen makeshift cots lay in the centre, their torn sheets stained with blood. The ground was covered with tufts of coarse fur and broken vials.

          Just as Turais was about to examine the scene closely, the air shifted. Then, Lux's feather flared up.

          "We need to leave!" he gasped.

          He grasped Imogen's hand and began sprinting towards the spot where they had left Cedalion. But upon sensing the vibrations of footsteps approaching from that direction, Turais stopped abruptly and led them in the opposite direction. Reaching a river, he cast Bubblehead Charms before they dove into the water.

           They remained underwater, drifting along the current, until Lux's feather finally stopped burning in his chest. After waiting a few moments longer, Turais glanced above the surface and discovered they had arrived in Loch Lomond with the campsite in view.

          "They must be allied with Egbert, seeing that they live so close to Glencraft Fort," said Imogen as they clambered ashore. Looking at the rapidly setting sun, she continued, "We'll be losing light soon. Moving camp will have to wait until tomorrow."

          "I'll cast the protective enchantments to keep us hidden," Turais offered.

          As he finished walking along the perimeter of the campsite, he noticed a golden bush shimmering nearby. He crouched down to collect its buds. 

          "Why are you collecting mallowsweet leaves?" asked Imogen.

          "It was meant to be a surprise… as a token of gratitude for teaching me how to duel and hunt," Turais explained, feeling coy. "Last time I was at the Eyrie, I saw your jar was nearly empty. I figured you've been too busy to collect more, and with everything that happened —"

          Imogen enveloped him in a tight embrace.

          "Thank you." 

          "Well, don't thank me yet. I've only filled up half of the jar so far —"

          Suddenly, the distant shouts of their names caught their attention. 

          "They're searching for us. How do we explain why we've been gone for so long…?" Turais's voice trailed off as he became intensely aware of how closely Imogen was pressed against him —

          "Turais? Where are you?" Alex's voice called out from nearby.

          "Oh, sod this —" Imogen leaned in and pressed her lips to his neck, nibbling softly. A wave of heat surged through Turais's stomach, spreading like fire downwards — 

          Suddenly, two beams of light fell upon them. They sprang apart, only to find Alex and Athelstan staring in disbelief. Turais quickly adjusted the tightness in his trousers, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

          "Him?!" Athelstan demanded. "What do you even see in him?!" 

          Imogen raised an eyebrow and replied with a smirk, "Well, I've seen all he has to offer. And I rather like what I've seen."

          Although she was merely taunting Athelstan, the words sent Turais's heart racing.

          Athelstan's face turned a dangerous shade of crimson, absolutely apoplectic. Immediately, he swung around to Turais and bellowed, "Black, I challenge you to a staff duel!"

          Imogen whipped around, fury flashing in her eyes.

          "Athelstan. Your quarrel is with me —"

          "Are you worried I'll lose to a townie who's been training for two weeks?" Athelstan said. "Draw your staff, Black — one single bout without spellwork. Whoever disarms the other shall be declared the victor. Do you accept my challenge?"

          Imogen grasped Turais's arm tightly. "You don't have to respond to his posturing —"

          Alex rushed to Turais's side and hissed, "Don't do it! He doesn't intend to fight fair and only plans to injure you."

          Turais declared loudly, "I accept."

          "T… Then I will be his second!" Alex shouted, stepping forward.

          "What do you think this is, your prissy duels with twigs?" Athelstan leered at Alex, who cowered slightly. "There are no seconds in a staff duel!"

          However, Athelstan's bravado faltered momentarily as Imogen handed Turais her staff.

          "Use it well," she muttered, her anger palpable. "It has not known defeat in many years, and you will not tarnish its record tonight."

          They moved to a small clearing in the forest under the dying rays of sunlight. Meanwhile, it seemed the rest of the group had received the news and gathered excitedly. Athelstan twirled his quarterstaff as Turais re-adjusted his grip on Imogen's staff.

          "Prepare to be humbled," Athelstan snarled.

          "Try not to trip over your arrogance before then," Turais replied with a steely gaze.

          "Enough with the chit-chat!" Imogen bellowed. "On my mark… Tòisich! (Begin!)"

          Athelstan instantly lunged forward with a series of aggressive strikes, each swing executed with precision. 

          ' Never step backward. It will leave you at a disadvantage. '

          Turais stood firm, adopting a defensive stance as he matched Athelstan blow for blow, absorbing the initial onslaught. Gradually, he began to discern the rhythm of Athelstan's attacks, noting the subtle patterns in his movements. Beads of sweat formed on Athelstan's brow as his strikes grew more frantic, frustration evident in his fierce determination to land a decisive blow.

          Turais's patience paid off when he baited Athelstan by leaving his left side exposed. Eager to press the offence, Athelstan unleashed a powerful swing, aiming to exploit what he perceived as Turais's vulnerability. However, Turais anticipated the move, and with a deft motion, he redirected Athelstan's staff aside. Athelstan stumbled, and in that fleeting instant, Turais launched a perfectly timed overhead strike.

           Just as the staff was poised to strike Athelstan's shoulder, it was parried away. To Turais's astonishment, Athelstan had blocked the blow with one half of his original staff. 

          Athelstan's quarter-staff was secretly two eighth-staves!

          With a deft twirl, Athelstan retrieved the other half from the ground, regaining his stance with a self-satisfied smirk.

          In an instant, Turais found himself on the defensive again as he struggled to defend against Athelstan's new attacking style. Then, with two quick blows to Turais's wrists and a powerful kick to his stomach, Turais was sent tumbling to the ground.

          Confident of victory, Athelstan approached with a strut.

          However, Turais timed Athelstan's stride and rolled his staff beneath Athelstan's left foot. The other boy slipped and fell with a startled yelp. Seizing the moment, Turais scrambled to his feet and quickly took both halves of Athlestan's staff.

          "I win," Turais gasped, facing Imogen with a mix of triumph and disbelief. 

          "Crìochnaich! (Finish!)" she announced before striding away in a huff.

          As the others gathered around Turais excitedly, he pushed through the throng and hastened to catch up with Imogen, who stood just beyond the clearing with her back turned to him.

          "Imogen —" 

          Imogen seized her staff and knocked Turais to the ground with a pained grunt. 

          "I may fancy you, but I don't need you to fight my battles for me!"

          Turais grimaced. "It was only a matter of time before he challenged me to a duel. This was merely the excuse he chose." 

          "What do you mean?" Imogen asked, her brow furrowing. 

          "A week ago, I received a letter from you summoning me to your father's treehouse. But when I arrived, I saw Athelstan —" 

          Imogen's anger dissipated at once. "You should have told me! I would have confronted him instead of taunting him today…."

          "That night, he also claimed you as his future bride."

          Imogen let out a weary sigh. Noting the gaze from their curious peers, she brought Turais further into the forest.

          "I never wished for you to become entangled in this.…" she muttered. "But Athelstan labours under the impression that our marriage would unite the realm, as if a simple exchange of vows could settle all disagreements —"

          "You intend to refuse, don't you?" Turais interjected.

          Imogen turned sharply. "Are you asking me, or asking this of me?"

          "Don't be so flippant," he replied, his voice low and serious. "This concerns your future."

          "I will refuse him," Imogen affirmed, stepping closer, as the fading light bounced off her lips most alluringly. "But if you asked this of me, I would do so without hesitation."

          The intensity in her eyes caused Turais's heart to quicken. He looked away and gulped, "You have not known me for long. Why do you place such trust in me?"

          Imogen gently lifted his chin.

          "What is trust but something to be given to those worthy of it?" she whispered, her fingers delicately tracing the mark she had left on his skin, gliding up his jaw before lingering at his slightly parted lips. "I see a nobility in your soul, one that outshines all the others..." 

          "You cannot have met that many souls."

          "And I don't need to in order to recognise that you are a phoenix among fowls." 

          Imogen leaned in ever closer, her breath warm against his skin. The sky deepened into an inky twilight, and her eyes also darkened with unspoken desire. Urge and want crescendoed to a roaring peak, but it also set off the warning bells in Turais's mind. He immediately took a step back, exhaling a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding. 

          Hurt immediately flickered in Imogen's eyes, and a sharp pang of regret pierced his heart. She started to turn away, and his heart was caught between uncertainty and a desperate need to reach out —

          Turais grasped her hand with fervor, pulling her back with an undeniable urgency.

          "What is it?" she asked softly, her searching gaze flickering between hope and sorrow.

          Turais opened his mouth to speak, but the words tangled in his throat. He glanced down at their hands, feeling her calloused palms against his, and fought to articulate the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. 

          "Sorry, I wasn't ready... but I… think I am now." 

          "Are you?" 

          Turais took a step forward, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest, and leaned in… 

          Imogen suddenly placed her hand against his mouth, and Turais blinked in confusion.

          "Now, we're even." 

          Turais nodded, murmuring, "I deserved that." 

          "You deserve much worse," Imogen said, turning on her heels. "You're fortunate I fancy you."

          The journey back was filled with unspoken words and stolen glances. Just before they arrived at the campsite, Imogen said, "I have something for you…."

          With a flourish, she handed him a slender branch adorned with delicate, shimmering golden flowers that resembled tiny snitches. He waved the stem, and a series of soft, metallic trills filled the air. But when he looked up, Imogen was already marching ahead without him.

          "How did you transfigure this?" he called out after her.

          Imogen looked over her shoulder, a grin on her face, and shouted, "It's a secret."

          "At least share its name?"

          "Seeker's Fancy!"

          As Imogen went out of sight, Turais sensed the weight of a gaze upon him. Turning around, he spotted Alex setting up their shared tent several yards away. He walked up beside him, watching silently for a while, before venturing, "So… where's Jonty?"

          "Probably charming the robes off some poor American," Alex muttered.

          Turais grinned, relieved that Alex was on speaking terms with him again. 

          "Here, let me help —"

          "I'll manage by myself —"

          "Don't be daft —" 

          "I don't need your help!" Alex shouted, leaping to his feet.

          Turais looked up in shock. The tense silence was punctuated only by the crackling fire and the murmurs of distant conversations. Calming himself, he asked, "Alex, are you upset with me —"

          "No, I'm not upset with you," Alex replied, frustration shimmering in his eyes. "By what right do I have to be upset? I'm just a hapless nobody who doesn't even know the rules of a staff duel and is a constant inconvenience —"

          "You're not an inconvenience!" Turais interjected, gripping Alex's shoulders tightly. "You're one of the most brilliant and loyal people I've ever known. I'm honoured to be your friend —"

          A chuckle escaped Alex's lips, but it was laced with resentment. A single tear escaped his eye, which he quickly blinked away.

          "Yes, I know. As you keep reminding me…."

          "Then, please tell me what's wrong —"

          "So you can solve it? Not everything can be solved!" Alex shouted before walking away.

          Confusion and hurt washed over Turais.

          "First, Regulus, and now you!" he shouted in response. "I don't know what's happened, but somehow, I can't shake the feeling that it's my fault…." 

          He leaned against a tree as a wave of exhaustion washed over him and closed his eyes. Moments later, he felt Alex wrapping his arms around him.

          "It's not your fault…." Alex murmured into Turais's shoulder.

          "Whatever I've done, I apologise. Alex… please tell me… and I promise I'll do better…." 

          Alex let out a shuddering breath.

          "No… I will do better... But this is something I need to figure out alone. Just… give me time, please…."

          Turais turned around in weary acceptance. "Promise?"

          Alex picked up the Seeker's Fancy, which had fallen to the ground unnoticed. With a melancholic smile, he gently folded Turais's fingers around it.

          "I'll always be there. Wherever you need me."

 

***

 

          The following morning, Turais was awakened by the forceful flap of the tent opening. Jonty gasped at the sight of Imogen and hastily wrapped himself in blankets. "Honestly, a bit of decorum wouldn't go amiss!" 

          She ignored him and strode over to Turais. "You need to come with me, now. And bring your bag." 

          Turais quickly followed her past the protective enchantments and further into the forest. After several minutes, they arrived at a clearing where Niamh and Ailsa were waiting, their expressions anxious.

          "Eleanor has gone missing since last night," Imogen explained urgently. 

          "Do you know where she might have gone?" Turais asked the others.

          "She kept mumbling something about the poachers and how this was her opportunity to prove herself..." Niamh revealed. "We thought she was searching for clues… or simply hunting, and it's not uncommon for her to spend a night or two alone in the wilderness.…"

          "But when we were fetching water this morning," Ailsa continued. "We stumbled upon this…." 

          She handed Turais a broken chain adorned with two pendants. The first was a jewelled butterfly, and beside it was a shard of moonstone that shimmered magnificently as though it held all the light of the night sky within its depths.

          Turais pulled Imogen aside and muttered, "The moonstone… Is this Eleanor's pendant?"

          Imogen's expression darkened with worry, confirming the worst.

          "This is exactly as I feared. She would have protected the stone with her life — something terrible must have happened…." Suddenly, Turais's nose twitched at the faint scents lingering on the pendant, and he closed his eyes to enhance his senses. Imogen asked immediately, "What is it? Can you trace Eleanor's scent?" 

          Turais shook his head.

          "Her scent is too weak, but there are others…." Turais's eyes flew open. "Egbert… It's his scent!"

          Imogen quickly turned to the other girls and instructed, "Keep an eye on the others. And most importantly, do everything you can to prevent Athelstan from leaving the camp or notifying others of our location."

          Once they disappeared, Imogen urged, "Follow the scent. We need to know where he took her."

          However, the trail did not lead towards Glencraft Fort as expected. Instead, they headed towards the coast until they reached a shallow cave with a crescent lake of still seawater. 

          Imogen struck her staff against the stone surface in frustration. "How does he vanish without a trace?!"

          Turais crouched by the water's edge and whispered, "Lumos maxima ."

          He carefully guided the radiant sphere of light into the water, illuminating its depths, when he spotted something below. 

          "Look, an underwater passage."

          They waded into the frigid water after casting two Bubblehead Charms. Following the light, they swam down a narrow tunnel until they emerged in a dungeon-like chamber. Clambering onto the stone platform, Turais removed the charm and was immediately overwhelmed by a dreadful stench.

          Suppressing a gag, he whispered, "The scents… Egbert passed through here."

          The metal gate, heavily rusted and pitted with age, swung open with a faint creak. They ascended a spiral staircase and entered a large, derelict chamber.

          The air was thick with dust, swirling in the shafts of light streaming through broken windows. Cobwebs clung to the rafters like tattered curtains, and the floor was littered with fragments of once-valued items — cracked vases, tarnished silverware, and remnants of ornate chairs, their upholstery faded and moth-eaten.

          Then, his wand light fell upon the Rookwood crest.

          "We're in Rookwood Castle ruins — their ancestral home in Feldcroft!" Turais realised. "These tunnels were constructed long before the Cairngorms's borders were established. That's why your border wards failed to defend against them." 

          "Egbert must intend to access these tunnels to infiltrate the Cairngorms," muttered Imogen.

          "You must find a way to destroy the tunnels. I'll search for Eleanor—"

          "Turais…." she whispered, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "Stay safe."

          "I will," he promised.

          Once Imogen disappeared into the shadows, Turais summoned his Cloak of Invisibility and swung it over his body as he crept through the darkened passages. 

          Navigating the twisting corridors and past patrolling guards, he approached the holding tower in the centre of a courtyard littered with large boulders and broken pillars. Turais slipped through the heavy door and climbed up the crumbling staircase to the top of the tower.

          There was a single guard, whom Turais subdued with a nonverbal Stupefy. He stole the keys and ventured into the farthest corner of the room, spotting a figure huddled in the shadows — there, imprisoned in a cold, dark cell, was Eleanor. 

          "Eleanor," Turais breathed, revealing his head. She looked up, a flicker of recognition lighting her features. "I'm here to rescue you —"

          "Turais," Eleanor hissed urgently as he unlocked the cell door. "They are planning to attack Glenfaelad tonight —" 

          "We will inform Lady Swindon once we get out of here. Imogen is preparing to destroy the tunnels as we speak. Once we pass through, no one else will be able to enter the Cairngorms after us." Turais pressed the pendant into her hands. "Here's your stone —"

          "No, the stone is yours. I've failed as your stone-keeper. Will you ever forgive me?"

          "It's already done," Turais replied, swinging the Cloak over both of them. "Let's discuss this once we leave this wretched place —"

          However, a high-pitched wail of the Caterwauling Charm echoed through the grounds the moment they stepped out of the cell. Almost immediately, hurried footsteps approached as the entire castle sprang into action.

          "In here, quickly," Turais whispered urgently as they slipped into a small room and quickly locked the door behind them.

          The footsteps thudded past them towards the cells when Turais felt a wand pressed against his back. Then, a tremulous voice demanded, "Who are you?"

          Turais turned around.

          It was Augustus Rookwood, but he was barely recognisable; his face was swollen, marred by cuts and dark bruises that extended beneath his robes to his arms and legs.

          Turais unveiled himself. Rookwood's eyes bulged in sheer panic and — to Turais's complete surprise — he lowered his wand.

          Suddenly, the door was being forced open.

          "The closet, now!" Rookwood hissed urgently. The moment they climbed into the closet, the door blasted open, and Rookwood was hurled backwards.

          Stepping over the pile of broken wood, Rookwood's father shouted, "Did you not hear the alarm?" 

          "Y…Yes, Father —" 

          "The prisoner is missing! We must locate her, or we risk losing the Dark Lord's favour for the final time! Do you wish for death upon the hands of those monsters, or worse ?!"

          After the man left, Rookwood grasped Turais by the sleeve, his eyes brimming with a desperate urgency and genuine concern. Then, Rookwood pulled down his collar to reveal a faint streak of red around his throat — a mark reminiscent of a searing whip, something Turais had seen on every Unspeakable. 

          A Curse of Silence. 

          "Leave," Rookwood whispered desperately.

          "Come with us —" Turais began.

          Rookwood shook his head with frustration and pointed at the door. 

          "Now!"

          Turais nodded at Rookwood gratefully and escaped down the spiral staircase with Eleanor towards the courtyard.

          "We're almost there —" 

          Turais was hit by a foul stench that he recognised from the abandoned cottage. He spun around to find a massive, beastly figure watching them, its predatory gaze piercing through the fabric of the Cloak as if it were merely a veil. The man sniffed the air and bared his teeth in a primal snarl, his features grotesque and wolflike —

          In an instant, everything clicked in Turais's mind. Crouching behind a column, he instructed Eleanor, "Use my Cloak and get to the cellar. Tell Imogen to leave without me, and destroy the tunnel."

          "But —"

          "There are werewolves here, and they can track my scent! If we go together, I'll only put you both in grave danger." Eleanor's eyes widened with realisation. "But I need a strand of your hair. With any luck, Polyjuice potion will be able to mask my scent." 

          Eleanor immediately yanked out a strand of her hair and gave it to Turais.

          "Now run!" Turais hissed. Eleanor cast him a final, grateful look before vanishing down the staircase.

          A low growl reverberated behind him, and Turais sprinted in the opposite direction, panic clawing at his chest. He glanced back to see a monstrous figure pouncing toward him, each thundering footfall echoing like a death knell. 

          Desperate to buy himself precious seconds, he hurled several Decoy Detonators over his shoulder, followed by a packet of Instant Darkness Powder. A thick plume of inky black smoke engulfed the corridor, mingled with a cacophony of clattering noise.

          Amidst the darkness and chaos, Turais plunged Eleanor's hair into the Polyjuice potion and forced the grey swill down his throat in one shuddering gulp. The taste was akin to stale bread, and a wave of nausea crashed over him. Immediately, he felt his body reshaping into a more feminine contour. With the transformation underway, he quickly cast the Disillusionment Charm and inched blindly towards the light.

          However, the moment he re-emerged in the sunlight, he was assaulted by the same thick, suffocating odour he had encountered numerous times before. But this time, it was overpowering, a nauseating intensity that squeezed his throat. Lux's feather, which had been burning constantly, became like molten lava plastered on his chest. 

          He looked up.

          Instead of Egbert, he found himself face-to-face with a towering, bestial-looking man with long, tangled grey hair that cascaded like wild fur around his shoulders. His mouth was a jagged maw, yellowing teeth gleaming ominously in the dim light, framing a grin that was far more feral than human. 

          Fenrir Greyback.

          "Interesting… My eyes tell me one thing, yet my nose tells me another —" 

          "Bombarda! " Turais immediately shouted, all but abandoning his Disillusionment. " Sectumsempra!

          Greyback deflected the first spell upwards, but the second curse collided with his face. The ceiling above buckled and caved in, crashing down in a terrifying avalanche of stone. Yet, to Turais's horror, the man remained standing amidst the wreckage, seemingly unfazed, with only a small cut in his neck. Greyback casually brushed the wound with his finger before licking it, smacking his lips in satisfaction.

          "I think yours will taste much better," Greyback chuckled sinisterly, a gleam of predatory delight in his eyes. 

          An earth-shattering explosion erupted from deep within the ground, sending shockwaves coursing through the earth like a violent heartbeat. A blinding plume of dust and debris engulfed the air, while fissures snaked menacingly across the surface. In an instant, a gaping chasm opened beneath Turais's feet.

          "Confringo! " he heard Greyback shout.

          An explosion detonated inches from Turais's face, the sheer force of it propelling him uncontrollably downwards.

          Then, everything turned dark.

 

***

 

          Turais awoke to a metallic scent and warm droplets falling intermittently on his cheeks. The left side of his face was aching and swollen, and a pervasive warmth radiated from his forehead, accompanied by an unsettling chill that seeped into his very bones.

          "Look who's finally waking up…." 

          Turais blinked open his eyes to find Fenrir Greyback staring at him with manic delight. The man traced his sharp, yellowing fingernails along his face and down his side. 

          "Turais. Orion. Black. What a handsome face… such a lovely body… rich… popular… exceptionally talented… perfect…. " Upon the last word, Greyback's smile contorted into a cold, seething sneer. "But that all comes to an end tonight."        

          Pushing through the nausea and pounding headache, Turais recognised the walls covered with scratch marks. Looking up, both of his wrists were shackled above his head, and his right forearm now sported an inflamed row of puncture wounds which oozed a mixture of blood and pus.

          "I couldn't resist having a little taste. You smell delectable, and taste just as exquisite," Greyback whispered in his ear, his breath heavy with rot and decay. "But don't worry, you're not a werewolf… yet ." 

          "I'm ever so appreciative," Turais growled before whipping his head into the man's face. 

          Blood burst from Greyback's nose, and he retaliated with a vicious punch, causing Turais to double over in pain. Then the man took a step back and blasted open the shutters. Moonlight flooded into the room, and instantly, Turais's wound felt like it was set aflame. Wave upon wave of fiery agony seared through his veins with every heartbeat. His mind was so overwhelmed with pain that he could barely focus on Greyback's next words.

          "Do you promise to be a good mutt for one more minute?" Greyback asked from somewhere in the shadows. "I do want to share my plan —"

          "Your plan has failed," Turais gritted out under the torturous full moon. "Eleanor would have reached Ardsheal House by now, and they will be ready for your attack —"

          "Oh, we never intended to attack Glenfaelad. We simply promised that old fool our support in order to get to you ," Greyback laughed. "What I didn't anticipate was that you would deliver yourself on a silver platter."

          "Well, you're quite incompetent then. Failing to kill me all this time —"

          "Oh, the Dark Lord doesn't want you dead," Greyback said with a leering smile. "He is furious. You've caused him great trouble and denied him his most valuable allies. Death would be far too easy. He wants to watch those you sought to protect turn their backs against you in revulsion, bask in the spectacle of your fall from grace, and relish as the hope in your eyes shrivels up and dies… and there's no escaping. I've saved you the trouble by already sending a letter to the Prophet announcing you've been bitten —"

          "I see," Turais sneered, mustering a bravado to hide the fear in his voice. "And instead of facing me himself, he's sent his rabid stray —"

          Greyback trained his wand at him. " Diffindo! "

          Blood spurted from Turais's chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible blade. Greyback tipped his head back, inhaling deeply, then looked at Turais with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

          "I like it when my prey fights back. It's all the more delicious when I watch you break —"

          "Then give me a proper fight, you scum!"

          "I promise we'll fight," Greyback said. " After you've transformed."

          "Try not to kill me when you go for the bite, then." 

          "Oh, I won't." Greyback pulled a vial from his robes and relished the shock on Turais's face. It was the Wolfsbane Potion. "After all, your hard work made that possible."

          Swallowing the content in one gulp, Greyback rolled up his sleeve and revealed a series of tally marks tattooed on his forearm. Then, he branded himself with a new line.

          Turais's eyes widened in horror as he finally realised what the scratch marks around the room meant.

          XIII.

          "Welcome to your new life, number thirteen."

          The moment Greyback stepped into the moonlight, his bones fractured into countless pieces in a sickening series of sharp pops and cracks. His joints twisted at grotesque angles, accompanied by a series of agonised howls. Tufts of coarse fur erupted through the tearing flesh as the mouth elongated into a large muzzle filled with pointed teeth.

          A monstrous werewolf stepped forth, snout pressed against an unblemished stretch of skin on Turais's arm, breathing in deeply. With one final lick, Greyback bared his fangs and bit down.

          All Turais felt was pain.

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