A Promise Kept - Chapter 11 - Family Legacies

Family Legacies

“Don’t allow yourself to become frustrated, Harry. The family magic is stubborn and difficult to master. The more you practice, the easier it will become. It is why I started teaching you the Mind Arts when I did. You will need them to stave off the unpleasantness that will linger. You need only look at Bellatrix or my Aunt Cassiopeia to see what will happen to those that allow themselves to be consumed by the Dark Arts, but with Bella, I suspect she was just born mad.”

Harry nodded as he made another attempt at the curse he was learning, only to find himself wiping the sweat from his brow after another failed effort.

“It’s okay,” Sirius comforted. “You will get there in your own time.”

Harry released a deep breath.

Each passing day, Sirius had insisted they spend time together learning about the Black magic and practicing spells.

It did not escape his notice that his godfather seemed to be doing so reluctantly, but doing it, nonetheless.

Harry understood.

Sirius wanted him prepared for all eventualities, for Harry’s, his own, and Lily Potter’s own good.

Neither had any faith in British Ministry of Magic, and even less so since some rather prominent Death Eaters had walked free from the repercussions of their crimes.

With what little he knew and understood, Harry felt much the same.

Cornelius Fudge seemed to be rather incompetent and according to Sirius, had surrounded himself with the very same people that would see Harry dead, perhaps more now than even when Voldemort had been at the peak of his powers a little more than a decade ago.

Lucius Malfoy in particular would see it so.

Were it not for Sirius naming Harry his heir, it would be his own son due to inherit the title and wealth of the Blacks; something Sirius would not allow to come to pass.

Nonetheless, Britain was far from his thoughts for the time being.

He had his schooling to focus, and only then could he shift his attention back to from where he hailed.

“I’m so sorry about your grandmother, Marisa,” Isabelle offered sincerely, pulling Harry from his thoughts.

He made a space for the girl next to him in the carriage and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He’d heard nothing from her in almost a fortnight during the summer break and had been worried until he’d received a letter informing him that her grandmother had died.

Of course, the others had rallied around her as best they could being so far away, and this was the first time any had seen her since the end of the school year.

Marisa smiled sadly.

“I miss her,” she murmured, “and thank you for the flowers, and for the donation to the church, Harry. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to. As long as she was given the send-off she deserved, that’s all that matters.”

“She did. She would’ve loved the service.”

Harry gave the girl a gentle squeeze.

“Would you like to go for a fly after the feast?” he asked.

Marisa nodded appreciatively.

“If I can remember how,” she replied, managing something resembling a smile.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry said dismissively. “It’s just like riding a bike.”

“Except that you’re hundreds of feet in the air,” Wendell pointed out.

“Thanks, Wendell,” Harry said dryly. “I needed to be reminded that I could fall to my death at any time.”

“You’re welcome,” the boy returned with a grin. “If you do fall, can I have your set of self-inking quills? It will save me a lot of time.”

Harry could only shake his head, but he thumped the other boy on the shoulder.

“Anyone else want to claim my belongings?” he asked.

“Can I have your broom?” Maggie requested.

“No, I get his broom!” Marisa protested.

And what would you like to take from my still-warm corpse?” Harry questioned Isabelle.

The girl shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure this lot will leave something for me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at his friends.

“Gits,” he muttered. “I’ll remember this.”

“It’s not like you’d need any of it anymore,” Wendell pointed out. “You wouldn’t let your friends be left without a reminder of you, would you?”

“And you’d need my self-inking quills for that?”

“It would help with the loss.”

Once more, Harry shook his head.

He knew his friends were only joking, but it wasn’t lost on him that his days could indeed be numbered if Voldemort had anything to say on the matter. Even so, he would not allow thoughts of the man to ruin his mood, though he evidently didn’t do much of a job of it.

“What’s the matter with him?” Adrian asked as the group left the carriage.

“Oh, we were just dividing his belongings between us if he dies,” Maggie explained.

“Well, I get his broom,” Adrian insisted.

“Then you’ll have to fight Maggie and Marisa for it,” Harry snorted. “Wait, you never said what you want,” he added to Olivia.

“I’ll just wait until this lot are arguing and take the lot,” she revealed with a smirk. “I’ll be long gone before they even know it.”

“I should’ve known you’d have the evillest plan of all of them.”

Olivia smiled at him innocently, and Adrian wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“You’re not planning on dying are you, Potter? Adams will be furious with you if you do.”

“He’s still trying to get me to play?”

Adrian nodded knowingly.

“The team lost six of their players, so he might well stick you to your broom and force you.”

“Great,” Harry huffed. “Between this lot wanting my stuff and Adams, I’ll be lucky if I survive the year.”

Adrian laughed heartily as he ruffled Harry’s hair.

“Lighten up, Potter. It’s the start of a new year.”

“Why are you so happy?” Harry asked. “Won’t you have more, little, nervous first years to deal with?”

“There is that,” Adrian conceded, “but they can’t be any worse than you lot. Anyway, fancy helping us with the initiation?”

“I will!” Olivia volunteered readily.

Adrian nodded.

“Then you’re both in,” he decided, waving as he walked ahead of them through the arch into the school.

“Trust you to want to be involved in torturing the first years,” Harry said amusedly.

It would be a little while before the new influx of students arrived.

Those in second year and above did so two hours before hand to allow them time to unpack their belongings and ready themselves for the feast, and as the group reached the foyer, they split up into their houses to do so.

It was good to be back.

As much as he had enjoyed his time at home, Harry had been unable to ignore the tension of his mother, and the insistence of his godfather that he be as prepared as possible for what the future held.

Harry understood it, better than either Sirius or his mother believed, but he could not deny that he was grateful for the unfettered freedom school provided him, so, it was with a sense of relief that he placed his schoolbooks on the shelf, hung his clothes in his wardrobe, and readied the rest of his room to resemble what it had been when he’d left a few months prior.

When he was done, he showered and changed into his robes before heading to the common room to wait for Olivia.

As ever, she took longer to get ready than him, but when she eventually emerged, the two of them made their way towards the Great Hall for the sorting and feast.

“Have you heard from Gabrielle?” he asked.

Olivia nodded.

“She’s been writing to me and Maggie quite regularly since Isabelle’s birthday, but probably not as much as she does you,” she added with a smirk.

Harry shook his head.

Gabrielle did write to him at least twice a week, and he had been pleased to finally meet the girl over the summer. The same, however, could not be said of others he had made the acquaintance of, and as Sabine Van Droombeeld offered him an almost apologetic wave, he returned it out of courtesy, but had not forgotten the last interaction the two of them had been a part of.

Flashback

“I can’t believe you have already outgrown your robes by so much.”

“It’s not that bad, Mum,” Harry protested as he was led towards the robe store just a short distance away from where Mr Wolfe sold his wands.

His mother hummed, frowning at him almost curiously whilst Sirius laughed.

“You don’t want to be walking around with your ankles showing. There are some weirdos out there who like that kind of thing a little too much.”

His mother rolled her eyes at him, and Harry continued to pout as he was all but dragged into the shop and in front of the seamstress.

Why his mother could not make the adjustments herself, Harry didn’t know, and here he was now being paraded in front of the keen-eyed woman that had fitted him for his robes only a year ago.

“No, that just will not do,” she declared. “Stand still, young man, we did not wish to inadvertently lengthen anything else, do we?”

Sirius snickered, and the seamstress glared at him.

“Sorry,” he offered insincerely, eliciting a tut from the woman before she set to work, lengthening the hem and sleeves of Harry’s robes until they fit a little more smartly.

“There,” she said proudly when she was done. “I expect I will be seeing you again next year, young man.”

“Thank you,” Harry said politely, following his mother from the shop after she had handed over some coins and he had stowed his robes away into his trunk.

“Where next?” Sirius asked.

“Just to the bookshop. There are a few extra ones I would like to get for Charms and Transfiguration,” Harry explained.

His mother nodded proudly, and he ignored the teasing barb from his godfather whilst making his way past Wolfe’s and into the shop only a few doors down, where he had to prevent himself from knocking into a rather keen reveller.

“You know, maybe it was your fault the first time we bumped into each other,” he chuckled.

Sabine shook her head.

“No, that one was yours,” she returned amusedly. “I suppose we are even now.”

“We can call it even,” Harry agreed. “Found anything useful?”

“Aren’t all books useful in their own way?”

Harry conceded the point with a nod, and the two of them were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Harry?” Sirius asked, his smile a little to mischievous for Harry’s liking.

“Sabine Van Droombeeld,” the girl declared, stepping forward and offering her hand confidently.

“Sirius Black,” the man responded, “and this is Harry’s mother, Lily Potter.”

Sabine smiled and offered her hand once more.

“It is nice to meet you, Lady Potter.”

“And you. Are you here alone?”

“No, my mother and father are around somewhere,” Sabine answered with a frown. “And here they come now,” she added almost worriedly.

“Come, Sabine, we are leaving,” a tall, broad-shouldered man announced as he approached, pausing at the sight of Harry, seemingly peering down his nose at him.

His dark brown hair was greying around the temples, but he still appeared to be young with sharp blue eyes, a rather pointed nose, and the robes he wore were of the finest quality.

His gaze shifted towards Sirius, and Harry did not miss the way his posture stiffened slightly.

“I had heard that the Lord Black had fled here,” he mused aloud.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow at the man.

“You are quite mistaken. I did not flee here but brought my godson and heir to be raised in the peace he deserves.”

His tone was quite challenging and were it not for the blonde woman who resembled her daughter placing a hand on his arm, Harry suspected that Mr Van Droombeeld would offer a rebuttal of his own.

“Irwin, we will be late for lunch with the Winthrops.”

The man nodded before slicking his hair backwards with both of his hands.

“You’re right,” he replied a little coldly. “Come, Sabine. We have other pressing matters to attend to other than the reasons Lord Black abandoned his own country.”

Before Sirius could respond, Van Droombeeld was gone, and Sabine offered Harry an apologetic wave, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she was pulled away by her father.

“What an absolute cun…”

“Sirius!”

Harry fought the urge to smirk at his godfather’s chastisement, but he did not disagree with the man’s assessment of Irwin Van Droombeeld. He’d been rude, provocative, and deeply unpleasant to a man at least on equal social footing.

He was threatened by Sirius, Harry did not doubt that, but he’d achieved nothing except for perhaps making the friendship between Harry and Sabine all the more awkward than when it had started.

“Could we speak after the feast?”

Harry had not seen the girl approach, but he nodded, eliciting a nervous smile from Sabine before she made her way back towards her waiting friends.

“What was that all about?”

“It’s a long story,” Harry sighed, making his way into the Great Hall to await the arrival of the first years, and to begin his second year of schooling himself.

(Break)

He vividly remembered his last visit here, where he had come face to face with the portrait of his irate mother, and even became reacquainted with the elf he’d despised growing up at Grimmauld Place.

Sirius had not expected much of Kreacher when he’d told him to fix the house, and the surly elf had not disappointed him.

The bare minimum had been done, and as he past the portrait adorning the wall in the hallway, he did not miss the smirk his mother sent in his direction.

Without even deigning her with a greeting, Sirius silenced her with a flick of his wand before making his way towards what perhaps would’ve been his study had things been different for him.

As much as he remembered the days here that still tormented him, he had not forgotten the times he’d spent n this very room with both his father and grandfather, learning of the history of the Blacks, and even of the businesses owned by his family.

For a young heir that did not expect to inherit the title until he was an old man himself, it had often been quite dull, and yet, his grandfather had insisted he listened, even more so than his father.

Arcturus Black had been a frightening man to most who crossed his path, and Sirius counted himself amongst them.

In truth, he knew little of his grandfather, but had learned he had ventured to the continent to fight against Grindelwald during his uprising along with Charlus Potter.

The two rarely mentioned their experiences there, but despite the differences of the family, had become close, so much so that Charlus had been allowed to marry Dorea.

Sirius smiled at the photo on the desk that showed the woman on her wedding day; much younger than he remembered, but with that same gentle smile she had for all of her grandchildren.

Even his grandfather was smiling brightly, and the two evidently could not have been more in love with one another.

It was odd to picture the man so fond of another.

Sirius’s memories of Arcturus Black consisted of the man voicing his disappointment in his children, scolding Walburga, and being at odds with Cygnus over his choices of who the three granddaughters would marry.

Andromeda had been the only one to escape her fate, and Sirius did not even wish to think about Bellatrix or Narcissa.

If there was any sense of justice left in the world, the former would spend the rest of her days in Azkaban, and the latter…

Sirius didn’t know to what extent Narcissa had involved herself in the war, but she had willingly married Lucius Malfoy and birthed his son.

The last time he had laid eyes on the woman had been the day her engagement had been announced some fifteen years prior, and in truth, he scarcely thought of her.

They’d never been close, none of the Blacks had save for the three sisters who had undeniably gone their separate ways.

Sirius shook his head of the thoughts of what few members of his family yet lived and frowned as he pulled the handle of the top drawer of the desk, only to find it locked.

With a muttered curse, he placed the hand adorned with the family ring onto the handle and nodded as the lock clicked.

Pulling it open, he found only a single book, and he frowned as he opened the first page to be greeted by a familiar scrawl.

Arcturus Orion Black

Journal

He almost laughed at the thought of such a man keeping a diary, but he could not pretend that he wasn’t curious to see what his grandfather had written, and as he took a seat in the plush captain’s chair behind the desk, he delved into the thoughts of the enigmatic man.

I would be the last man to expect me to find myself sharing my thoughts like this, but given the state of the family, and perhaps its impending end, I feel it is only right that a legacy of sorts that was not tainted by the world around us should exist.

Father is dead, likely murdered by Grindelwald himself. Perseus is dead in service to the Dark Lord, and Cassie serves him still, either ignorant or uncaring of what he has done to their family.

I remain, unmarried, and then there is Dorea, who is pursuing her dream of becoming a Healer. She will be most furious with me for what it is I am to do, as will Melania, who I hope can forgive me and wait for me to return so that I might make her my wife.

This was never supposed to be.

Perseus was the heir, and I was to be only a second son with a small holding and stakes in a few of the family businesses. My only hope had ever been that Dorea would be found a good husband, a man that would care for her. That is not so now, I have found myself thrust into the position of being the Lord Black, and although I know I should be tending to the responsibilities of my station, I find myself unable to.

Grindelwald continues to sweep across the continent, and none seems to be willing or able to stop him. Perhaps my own chances of doing so are not so good either, but I cannot remain here idle.

If he isn’t stopped, he will come to Britain.

Needless to say, it is my desire for vengeance that spurs me on, but more so, my need to protect Dorea.

Already, I have lost three members of my family to him, and I will not lose anymore.

Sirius nodded as he read along, understanding the man’s position and feeling quite clearly. He too felt that need to protect those he cared for, and even that same desire for vengeance against those that had wronged them.

He cared little for the likes of Bellatrix and any other who shared his blood that had brought their own fates upon themselves, but James, Lily, and Harry were not them.

James was nothing short of a brother to him, and the man had bestowed the responsibility of his son upon Sirius should he be unable to raise him.

To Sirius, there was nothing more important than keeping that promise, and that care carried over to his best friend’s widow.

Once more, Lily was back in Texas, fretting over Harry’s absence, and it would take a few days before she would begin to settle, and Sirius, in truth, did not even know why he had come here.

Even so, happening across his grandfather’s diary was quite the revelation, and was providing him with an insight into one Arcturus Orion Black.

Not having been raised at my father’s side, I was not provided with the same wisdom as Perseus, and attending my first meeting of the Wizengamot proved to be duller and more unfulfilling than I could’ve anticipated, but that one meeting taught me more about the political field than my father ever had.

There are those that have gold to spare and are unafraid to use it to get what they want. Abraxas Malfoy, Corbin Lestrange, and Titus Yaxley are among them, each lacking any respectability for what is supposed to be a democracy.

If gold fails, then threats and intimidation are implemented, usually the same ilk, but Nott, Selwyn, and many others are prone to using this.

There are those amongst my peers that cannot be bribed or quelled through fear, but these are few. The one advantage I have to outweigh my inexperience is the name I carry.

People remember the very worst of my kin, and I have found that the reputation precedes me; something I can use to my advantage. That coupled with my iron will, my inability to be intimidated, and the wariness of my peers will be my sword and shield.

He found it as fascinating as it was intrusive to read his grandfather’s observations, but before he took his leave of the house, he pocketed the journal with the intention of reading it more at his leisure.

For now, he wished only to get some sleep before the Wizengamot meeting in the morning, but one day, he would be back in Britain on a more permanent basis.

Sirius had learned long ago that it was not within his godson to merely keep his distance where he was safer, and though Harry was just a boy, that would not be so much sooner than he or Lily were ready for.

Oh, he was a Potter through and through, but there was already some Black in him, would be even more so if he continued his studies in the family magic.

Those that had been a part of Voldemort’s efforts would be in for quite the surprise when Harry Potter made his way to Britain in the coming years, and Sirius would be there right beside him, just as James, Charlus, and even Arcturus Black would want.

“Kreacher!”

The elf appeared in a filthier state than Sirius remembered and offered a reluctant bow.

“Master called for Kreacher.”

His tone lacked any respect expected from his kind, and Sirius fought the urge to curse his servant.

“I want this house restored to its former glory,” he instructed. “If when I return it is not, your existence as a servant of the House of Black will be erased from history. Your head will not be placed among the others in the hall, and I will kill you before throwing your corpse somewhere none will ever remember you. Do you understand?”

The elf glared at him balefully, but Sirius did not miss the hint of fear in his eyes as he nodded.

“Yes, Master Black,” he acquiesced before vanishing with a gentle pop.

Sirius could only shake his head.

He despised Kreacher. The elf had made his life miserable throughout his childhood, had always disliked Sirius, and even more so when Regulus had been born.

Perhaps it was at his mother’s behest Kreacher had treated him so terribly, but to Sirius, it didn’t matter.

He’d suffered a miserable upbringing here, and his life had only changed for the better when he had left.

He shook his head, not wishing to dwell on what had once been.

He couldn’t have envisioned he would find himself where he was now, but he was proud of what he’d achieved, and grateful for his grandfather’s intervention to see that he would inherit the family title.

Arcturus Black could not have foreseen what had come to pass, but Sirius could not deny what he’d done had proven to be invaluable. What had been done for Harry and Lily would not have been possible without it, and though he was still quite loath to admit it, he owed his grandfather a debt he could never repay, but he could certainly honour his memory.

Squeezing the journal he’d liberated from the drawer, he nodded to himself.

“Alright, you old git, you got me,” he murmured.

Of course, he’d been attending the meetings of the Wizengamot over the years, but he’d mostly done so to observe, to see what would become of the country after Voldemort’s apparent demise, but Sirius knew he had not done his position justice.

Perhaps that would change now.

Arcturus Black had been an active member of the Wizengamot, had fought for what he believed in, and Sirius would do the same, for the man that had, perhaps inadvertently, provided him with all he’d needed to keep the promise he’d made to his friend before his untimely end at the hands of the Dark Lord.

(Break)

He had not spent as much time in the grounds of Ilvermorny as he perhaps should. With it being September in the mountains, it was a brisk evening, and as he walked side by side with Sabine, Harry took a moment to enjoy the peace outside of the castle, and even watched a large thunderbird pass overheard.

“I’m sorry about my father, Harry. He should not have been rude to you.”

“No, he shouldn’t have,” Harry agreed, “but you are not your father.”

The blonde nodded appreciatively and shuddered within her robes.

Taking pity on her, Harry removed his coat and placed it over shoulders, eliciting an appreciative nod from her.

“So, what have you heard of my family?” Sabine asked.

“Nothing.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him before shaking her head.

“Since I’ve been here, I’ve just about everything you can imagine, and honestly, most of it is true. My family does not have a good reputation with others. Each eldest son has taken what is left to them, built on it, and made more and more enemies with each generation. It was hard realising it, and even harder to accept it, but I know the kind of man my father is. He is not very nice.”

“You’re not much like him.”

“Not much?”

Harry offered the girl a grin.

“Well, you do look like your mother.”

The girl swatted his shoulder, but managed to laugh with him, relaxing her somewhat.

“I don’t want to be like my father,” she sighed, “but I am a Van Droombeeld, and that will always follow me.”

“Until you’re married.”

Sabine grimaced at the mention of the word.

“Walton Winthrop,” she said with a shudder. “That is who my father will have me married to.”

“You don’t seem pleased.”

“He’s an idiot two years older than us and can barely spell his own name. He’s a fifth son of two members of his own family.”

“And I thought my lot were bad for inbreeding.”

“Your parents aren’t related?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, my mother is a muggleborn, and my father a pureblood.”

“Your mother is the daughter of no-maj’s? I didn’t know that. It must be quite fascinating.”

Harry smiled as he nodded.

“She is a witch, but there are certain muggle things she really likes. She reads literature and listens to the music. We have a vinyl player in the kitchen and she is working on getting cassette tapes to play in our house.”

Sabine stared at him as though he’d been speaking a foreign language.

“It’s like the wireless, but you can choose what song you want to listen to,” he explained. “She has stacks of records.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard no-maj music before.”

“It’s much better than what we have.”

Sabine could only shake her head.

“Maybe you could show me one day.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She smiled appreciatively, and the two of them fell silent as they continued on their way, taking a turn around the perimeter of the grounds before heading back towards the castle.

“Thank you, Harry, for not being like the others,” Sabine murmured as they reached the doors.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged before deflating.

“There aren’t many people here who want to be my friend. My family reputation isn’t a secret, so we don’t have much of a choice but to stick to our own. Van Droombeeld, Winthrop, Goode, and Abbott. The others only want to know us for what we can do for them, or just so that we do not become their enemies.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“I will have my own share of that to deal with one day,” he sighed. “I suppose that is how Britain will be, but I already know my enemies.”

“You’re going home?” Sabine asked, surprised by the revelation.

“I am, and when I make it back, I do not expect it will be so peaceful. I ruined many lives, and there are those that will think they can take revenge on me.”

“Think?” Sabine asked worriedly.

Harry nodded once more.

“When I return home, I will be ready for them, and it won’t be me that will suffer.”

He offered her a final smile before making his way back towards the Wampus common room, pausing as he entered.

“Are you ready, Potter?” Adrian asked a little too excitedly.

He shook his head amusedly.

“You know, I think you take a little too much joy in this.”

“I do,” Adrian replied unashamedly, “and so will you when you’re on the other side. Come on, it’s tradition.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the older boy, who placed a finger to his lips as he led the group of students towards the first-year rooms.

“You’re already enjoying this too much,” he murmured to Olivia.

She grinned as she nodded, and Harry could only shake his head in response, though he could not deny that a prank might just lift his mood a little.

(Break)

Albus was not one to lament on his woes in life, but he could not deny that they had become numerous most recently. With Tom undeniably roaming the world, though not as he would wish, and his latest appointment to the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts being a celebrity who was questionable at best, he had more than enough on his play to oversee.

What he didn’t need was another ploy by Lucius Malfoy to contend with in the chambers of the Wizengamot, and as Cornelius nodded along with the man, the Chief Warlock could not see how he would prevent it this time.

Over the years, he had attempted to tighten the purse strings of the Ministry, and his focus had primarily been on the Departments of Magical Law Enforcement, Health, and Education.

To what end, Albus could not be certain, but Lucius always had a reason, and it was no secret that the man had invested considerable amounts of gold into many private sectors.

“We simply do not have the gold to continue funding what we currently are. St Mungo’s and covering the shortfall of Hogwarts are draining the coffers, and the only way to retain a feasible treasury is to reduce the funding for each by around 30 percent, with a further twenty percent taken from other departments within the Ministry itself,” Lucius explained.

Although he had not mentioned the department specifically, Albus did not need to guess at what his intentions were.

“Shortfalls caused by the last war,” a voice spoke out, leaving Lucius taken aback.

Albus too was surprised as he spotted the usually silent Sirius Black standing, his hardened gaze resting on Lucius Malfoy.

“Britain was devastated by the war and is still recovering. Dozens of families were wiped out entirely, which means there are less students attending Hogwarts. St Mungo’s was attacked no less than three times by the Death Eaters and we lost several valuable Healers during each. You talk about cutting funding when what we need to do is offer more. There needs to be better incentives to inspire the young to become Healers, and even Aurors. Cutting funding would be damned foolish and would be a disservice to the people of Britain. If you vote to pass this bill, you are voting to plunge the country into more dark days.”

Albus cheered internally as Lucius’s nostrils flared and the gathered members of the Wizengamot began murmuring amongst themselves.

He could not have said what Sirius had better himself, and it was only more effective coming from one of the Lords.

Albus leaned back in his chair as he observed the man, and how uncomfortable Lucius had become in the last passing moments.

It had been Malfoy using his influence as a school governor that had seen Gilderoy appointed and given that he was advocating for less funding to the school from the Ministry, Albus now knew why.

If and when the OWL and NEWT results showed a significant drop in scores, it would only prove that the funding they currently received was not helping the students.

It was a shrewd move, and one Albus only now realised.

No, he could not allow that to come to pass, and as the members of the Wizengamot began deliberating under the watchful eye of Sirius Black, he knew he needed to act to prevent such a thing coming to pass.

Whilst Sirius watched the room, Albus’s gaze flittered between him and the nervous Lucius, and an idea formed.

Whether or not he could pull it off was another matter entirely, but he was certain he could convince the man if he could give him the right motivation, and as Sirius continued to glare at Lucius, he might just already have it.

(Break)

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Alexandra sighed. “Three of them haven’t stopped crying.”

Adrian nodded.

“Maybe we should get them out. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

With a flick of his wand, the door opened, and as Harry peered down into the pit below he could only shake his head sympathetically.

The first years had not fared as well as him and his peers, and some were indeed crying.

“Come on, you lot,” Adrian instructed, raising the floor. “Let’s get you all to bed.”

The boy shrugged as the group of almost thirty students passed them by.

“Well, they can’t all be as good as you were, but I expected something from them.”

He seemed disappointed, and Alexandra tutted.

“He expected too much from them after last year. This is what happens mostly. Maybe every few years or so one of them figures it out, but it doesn’t happen as often as you’d think.”

“They’re only eleven,” Olivia pointed out. “We probably would’ve done just as badly if it wasn’t for Harry.”

Alexandra nodded her agreement.

“Probably,” she murmured as she followed the end of the line of terrified first years.

“That will be all for today,” Professor Clarke announced. “Off you go. Not you, Potter. I would have a word.”

“Ohh, in trouble on the first day back.”

“Shut up, Wendell,” Harry grumbled, packing his books away before approaching the desk where Professor Clarke was scrawling a note.

“Here,” she said, pushing forward a stack of parchment. “I want it back by Friday next week.”

“What is it?”

“Additional work that should be challenging for you,” the woman explained. “I expect Professors Goode and Day will have the same for you.”

The smile she gave him was as encouraging as it was challenging, and Harry accepted the parchment feeling rather perplexed.

“Off you go,” Professor Clarke instructed, her smile widening. “You don’t want to be late for your next class.”

He did so, smiling himself as he left the room, relishing the challenge that lay ahead of him.

To what end he was being given the additional work, he couldn’t be certain, but Harry was not one to back down from a challenge, especially one that could only serve to benefit him now and in the future.