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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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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.

                           Hey, Siri 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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, I want a turn on that broom that I 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.

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 I 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…’

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, I  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 I  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.

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.

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 I  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.”

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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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. 

***

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 Text

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

POTTER-BLACK RELATIONS