One Step at a Time
“Good. It is a useful spell to know for the summer months when it gets a little too hot, and there is also a warming charm that I will teach you that is good for the winter.”
Ariana beamed at him as she cast the charm once more, and Harry nodded as the room became cooler still.
“What is it?” he asked as she frowned.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I feel restless. It’s like I have lots of energy…”
“That you need to get rid of.”
Ariana nodded.
“Well, a way to do that is by using your magic, and even better is to get yourself moving. Even walking up and down the stairs will help.”
She swallowed nervously as she eyed the door.
“I’ve not…”
“I know,” Harry comforted, “but I think we can make it to the kitchen. It would be nice for you to be able to eat with the others, don’t you think?”
She nodded tentatively and accepted Harry’s offered hand.
He helped her to her feet and smiled encouragingly.
“One step at a time.”
“Like turning on the light?”
“Exactly.”
He could see that she was struggling, even within the four walls of her own home, but she managed to make it halfway down the stairs before pausing.
“I’m not sure that I can,” Ariana whispered.
“We can always turn around if you want to,” Harry assured her, “but you’re already almost there. You’ve done the hardest part.”
Ariana released a steadying breath and took another step, whispering incoherently to herself as she did so, and even made it to the bottom before she seemingly knew it.
“Oh,” she whispered in surprise.
“I didn’t doubt you for a second,” Harry praised. “Now, are we going back up or forward?”
She seemed less certain, but he saw a flicker of determination in her eyes and knew she would at least try to make it into the kitchen. Her legs began to tremble, and her grip around his hand tightened, but she pressed on, clinging onto Harry and the wand she held in her free hand until they found themselves being gawped at by the other three Dumbledores.
“Ariana,” Kendra greeted her when the shock wore off. “Would you like some dinner?”
It was likely from the shock they felt at seeing her outside of her room that they didn’t make such a fuss over it, and it seemed to help the girl relax somewhat, though her legs continued to shake long after Harry helped her into her seat.
“I did it,” she murmured.
“You did,” he said proudly, “and much sooner than I thought you might.”
Ariana nodded as she tucked into a plate of shepherd’s pie, still anxious, but what she’d achieved could not be underestimated. Already over the past days they had been working together, she was no longer stuck in her own mind so much, tormented by the memories that plagued her, and she was eating.
It truly was doing her the world of good, and yet, Harry knew they were not quite out of the woods yet. There was still much work ahead of her, but all he’d seen thus far was more encouraging than he could’ve hoped for.
What the future held for her, he didn’t know, nor could he be certain of the life she might live, but so long as he avoided her perishing in only a matter of a few years as she had back home, he was hopeful the fate of the entire family would be different.
“Won’t I get into trouble if I use these?” he asked curiously, holding the oddly shaped knife he’d finished cursing in his hand.
It was a long oval of sorts with an incredibly sharp tip and long handle.
“You’re at war, Harry,” Cadmus reminded him. “Getting into trouble is the least of your worries when the alternative is dying to leave those you care about at the mercy of your enemies. “Throw it. It is just another way of implementing your magic and when you are out experienced and facing someone powerful, you must become equally creative. Your defence work is good, but his will be equally so against the weapons he use. You need weapons he is not familiar with, as many as possible.”
Harry nodded his understanding, holding the knife by the tip of the blade before hurling it towards the wooden board he had transfigured from one of the old chairs.
With a dull thud, it sank into the hilt, and only a moment later, the board was a pile of ash on the ground.
“Dead,” Antioch declared. “They will be a most useful addition to your collection.”
The three brothers had been teaching him about different weapons he could use outside of his wand. Antioch in particular was quite the expert on the subject, and had pointed out that being bereft of it could happen easily enough if he as caught off guard or simply disarmed.
The thought alone was quite troubling, and although the Peverells had already taught him some most useful curses, it was the way they thought about things that was proving to be most beneficial to Harry.
They thought like men who’d needed to survive during a harsh period, men who others had looked to for protection when they’d needed it most, and men who had already lived the very experience that lie ahead of Harry.
It was the wisdom of experience they were passing on that was just as invaluable as the magic they wielded, and Harry was as grateful for it as he was aware of his own shortcomings.
“You will get there,” Ignotus assured him. “It took us many failings and more than a little luck to get to where we did, and we still proved to be quite foolish. No man is perfect, and no man is flawless, but all men can be at their very best.”
“I think I will have to be,” Harry sighed. “Not just for Voldemort, but whatever will happen here. For now, I have somewhere else I need to be.”
“While you can,” Ignotus said pointedly.
Harry nodded.
For the past few days, he had felt that his time to return would soon be upon him, that he would once more find himself without the peace of Godric’s Hollow and plunged back into the tension of the castle.
Before then, however, he had Christmas to attend to with the Weasleys, and a visit or two with the Dumbledores. Death would wait just a little longer for him, after all.
(Break)
It wasn’t often he visited the library in his childhood home. Cantankerus had exhausted it years prior in the pursuit of knowledge, and to satisfy his curiosity about the world he found himself in.
Being a second son, his father had not seen fit to groom him for a position of power, but Cantankerus had never wanted to be just a second son who lived off the family wealth. No, he wanted to build a lasting legacy of his own and do so differently to the Notts that came before him.
Oh, he was handy enough with his wand if he needed to be, but it was the academic pursuits that interested him so, and that was what he had dedicated his life to. Already, he’d published dozens of articles and even a few books over the years, carving himself quite the reputation as an authority on several subjects.
His latest undertaking however, would be his greatest triumph, though it was not strictly his investigation into the pureblood families of Britain that brought him here.
The Peverells.
Having grown up with the rather unpleasant stories of the extinct family, Cantankerus had always held something of a fascination for them but had not invested the time into looking into them so deeply.
Why would he when they were no longer around, and most had already forgotten about them?
Having discussed them with Bathilda, he could not deny that his curiosity had been piqued once more, but it was the absence of them and sudden re-emergence that Cantankerus could not even begin to explain.
It was indeed quite trifling.
“I thought I heard someone in here. Looking for something in particular, brother?” Octavius asked.
Octavius Nott, the older, more prominent of the four siblings of their generation, and with all the arrogance and ego that came with his lofty position.
Cantankerus was not envious.
If anything, he was granted the very best of both lives. If he so choose to, he could enjoy his share of the family wealth, but he was not bound to the same duties as Octavius, nor had he been forced to marry for the sake of political clout. Not that he had anything against Cassandra Nott. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman, but much like his brother, she harboured some rather unpleasant traits.
Cantankerus could see it in her eyes whenever they conversed, that spark of cruelty his own family possessed, the hatred she felt for those she believed lower than her.
He was no fool.
The muggle hunting expeditions were among the worst kept secrets in the upper circles of pureblood families, and Cantankerus knew his brother partook in them with his wife.
“Anything pertaining to the Peverells,” he answered, seeing no reason to hide it from the other man.
Octavius frowned.
“The Peverells,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Ah, those Peverells,” he chuckled. “Have you moved onto the writing fantasy, brother?”
Cantankerus shook his head as he examined another book on wizarding lineage.
“Nothing of the sort, but I have it on good authority that the Peverells are not all gone. One of them at least has emerged in Godric’s Hollow.”
“Preposterous,” Octavius scoffed. “Even if there are Peverells, you do realise that grandfather told us those stories to scare us into staying in bed.”
“Mayne,” Cantankerus conceded, “but I wouldn’t be so certain. Look at these.”
He removed the trunk he carried with him wherever he went before resizing it and placing it on a nearby table. Popping open the lid, he quickly found the stack of parchment he’d placed within and handed it to his frowning sibling.
“They may only be stories to scare us, but how do you explain all of these?” he pressed. “Dozens of accounts of those who encountered them from every corner of the country, and beyond. It seems that there were many attempts to take their lands from them. Haven’t you ever wondered why that, except for Hogsmeade, Godric’s Hollow is the only other place where muggles and magicals co-exist quite harmoniously? It is because it has always been that way. The lands were protected by the Peverells. They were never conquered.”
Octavius said nothing for several moments as he read through the accounts but shook his head the same way a horse would when bothered by a persistent fly.
“Whether these are true or not, it doesn’t matter. The Peverells never accepted a lordship from the Wizengamot. This Peverell, whoever they are, have no power, and the only influence is from stories like these. No one will pay them much heed.”
Cantankerus nodded.
“Perhaps,” he observed, “but from what I have learned, this boy is already proving himself to be a most exceptional wizard. Bathilda is not one to exaggerate, brother.”
“Bathilda?”
“She has met him, and certainly had her doubts about his claimed lineage, but he proved himself, and did so quite spectacularly. I intend on visiting the village to see it for myself. She says it feels different there now, that since he claimed the Peverell home as his own, Godric’s Hollow feels complete, almost as though it has been missing something for almost one thousand years.”
“You always did have a flair for the dramatics, brother,” Octavius chuckled, handing him back the stack of parchment, “but I know what you are like, you will pursue this until you get the answers you seek, and I wish you the best of luck. The Peverells,” he chortled as he left the library.
Cantankerus had not expected anything less than the response he’d received, but he’d never allowed Octavius to dampen his enthusiasm, and though he was passionate about his project in the pureblood families of Britain, he could not deny that the mysterious Peverells was a most exciting topic to look into, especially now that another had emerged after such a long absence.
What had happened to the family?
That was only one of countless questions Cantankerus had, and he would do his utmost to uncover the truth. Of course, he did not expect it would be an easy undertaking.
The family library was just the start of his investigation, and from here, he would visit Godric’s Hollow and discuss the matter with Bathilda once more. Between the two of them, he did not doubt that they would ascertain what had happened to the Peverells, and perhaps even substantiate the stories so many had told of them, dating back to the times of the Founders themselves.
(Break)
“You are doing really well,” her mother praised.
Ariana said nothing as she focused on levitating the feather, guiding it around the room and allowing it to land on her bed, releasing a laboured breath when she was done.
It was still tiring wielding her magic, and often, it did not fully cooperate with her. Although it was considerably more settled than it had been only a week prior before she’d gotten her wand, it remained chaotic at times, and even rebellious.
“It’s still hard.”
“But it is getting easier. One step at a time.”
Her mother had taken to repeating the mantra just as much as Ariana did for herself every time she left her bedroom to eat with her family. So far, she’d only missed two meals with them since Harry had helped her, and that had been during a couple of moments that she was feeling particularly unsettled when her magic had not been pleased with her.
They still came and went from time to time, but when she thought back to where she was almost a month ago, the changes within her were significant.
She couldn’t have even fathomed using magic or leaving her room for any length of time, and yet, here she was with a wand in hand, looking forward to having lunch with her two brothers.
“Hungry?” her mother asked amusedly as her stomach rumbled.
Ariana nodded and accepted the offered hand, taking a few breaths before allowing herself to be led from her room.
It was still a daunting prospect though much less troubling than the thought that all of this was only temporary, that her magic would once again flare uncontrollably.
No, she couldn’t allow herself to think like that. It only made her more anxious than she already was and would only serve to play on her mind when she was doing all she could to focus on other things.
“Would you like to hear another of your father’s letters after we’ve eaten?”
She would.
Although it still worried her that he might blame her for his predicament, of the five she’d heard thus far, that hadn’t been so. Much like the first, Percival Dumbledore had only written of his desire for her to understand why he had done what he had, and his wish that she did not allow it to consume her when she’d done nothing wrong.
“Yes,” she answered, eliciting a smile from her mother, who smiled warmly. “Harry will be here soon.”
“He will.”
All of them had grown rather fond of the boy.
Being of a similar age, he and Albus had become fast friends, and Aberforth simply like to latch onto the duo, admiring both of the older boys. Her mother undoubtedly appreciated everything Harry had done since he’d been visiting, and to Ariana, he was something of a saviour.
Without him, she knew she wouldn’t be where she was now.
Things were still difficult, and each day that came and went was a struggle, and yet, he had instilled within her a desire to get better, inspired her to not simply give up, and showed her just how it could be done.
Ariana was left in no doubt that he had saved her life, and for that, she did not even know where to begin showing just how grateful she was.
“What do you have there, Albus?” their mother asked as they entered the kitchen.
“I’ve been made Head Boy,” he declared dumbly, holding up a gold badge.
“Oh, that is wonderful news! We must celebrate. I’ll go into the square and get a cake, and…”
Ariana smiled at her brother, but she couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of sadness and even jealousy. She would never be a Prefect or Head Girl at Hogwarts, not even a student at the school.
Even so, it passed quickly when she realised that she was fortunate she found herself where she was now, that only a matter of weeks ago, she’d been isolated in her room, trembling at the very thought of leaving it, staring vacantly into a flickering candle in a bid to keep the worst of her thoughts, memories, and magic at bay.
Of course, the road ahead of her was a long one, but already, she was doing well, according to her mother and Harry.
No, she was pleased for Albus.
He truly was a brilliant wizard in his own right, and had earned everything he’d achieved, despite dealing with everything that had befallen the family these past years.
Tentatively, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing her oldest brother tightly.
“I’m happy for you, Albie,” she said sincerely, eliciting a beaming smile from him.
“Well, since we are getting a cake, what flavour would you like?” he asked.
Ariana frowned at the question.
“Strawberry, or maybe lemon.”
Albus chuckled as he nodded.
“Fine, strawberry or lemon it is.”
Ariana smiled as she took a seat at the table, still aware that she was not within the safety of her room, but being here had gotten easier, just as everything else she dealt with each day continued to do so.
“Then I will pop to bakery after lunch,” their mother declared. “Abe, would you like to come?”
“Can I come?” Harry asked as he entered the kitchen through the backdoor.
Her mother had all but insisted he stops knocking every time he visited each day, and he had taken to arriving around lunch time where they would eat before he and Ariana would work together on Occlumency, and even magic.
He was an excellent teacher in both, and every day, she was learning more and more from him.
“You can come if you’d like to, but you will get no say on the flavour of the cake. Ariana has chosen a strawberry or lemon one.”
“So, no chocolate or treacle?”
“Not this time.”
Harry frowned as he took a seat next to her.
“Strawberry or lemon,” he grumbled amusedly. “I suppose it will have to do.”
Ariana giggled before wrapping her arms around him, and Harry offered her a sad smile.
Why that was, she didn’t know but he returned the gesture, holding onto her a little longer and tighter than he usually would as her mother served them a lunch of sandwiches, ensuring Albus got a little extra as a reward for all of his hard work.
(Break)
It was only a few times a year that he visited the village his family hailed from, but to Henry Potter, Godric’s Hollow had always had something of a presence about it. Since his last visit a few months prior, however, that same presence seemed to have become only stronger, and more prominent.
Not that it was an unpleasant change. If anything, it was familiar to him, comforting even, and as he made his way up the path of the churchyard, it was stronger still.
“Ah, Henry, it is good to see you,” Reverend Seabrook greeted him warmly, taking him by the hand and shaking it enthusiastically.
“And you, Reverend. How are things?”
“Oh, as peaceful as ever,” the man said dismissively. “It does seem as though my son has decided to follow in my footsteps, but seeing that he is only nine, he might well decide to become a fireman after all.”
Henry chuckled.
“My own has just finished school, and I am waiting to see what troublesome career he will choose for himself. My wife is hoping he will marry soon, but I am not so certain he will.”
“This generation is not like ours, Henry,” Reverend Seabrook sighed. “The world is their oyster, and too many of them would like to see it.”
Henry nodded his agreement.
William was resistant to being married off so young, and Henry wasn’t inclined to push him into it so quickly. Alice, on the other hand, would see him married already.
“I expect the generation after will be even more restless,” he mused aloud.
“Indeed, as is the village at large. There has been quite the buzz around the place for some weeks now because of our newest arrival.”
“I did hear the Dumbledore family had moved here.”
He hadn’t met them himself, and by all accounts, the family tended to keep themselves to themselves after the controversial imprisonment of their patriarch.
“Oh, no, not the Dumbledores,” Reverend Seabrook denied. “The young Peverell man who has taken up residency in the family home. Oh yes, he has caused quite the stir. I have spoken to him myself. He has proven to be as polite as he is popular.”
Henry had stopped walking at the mention of the name, one he was of course familiar with, but not one he’d expected to be spoken of in such a way.
“Excuse me, did you say Peverell?”
“Indeed. Young Harry. He arrived some weeks ago.”
“Harry Peverell?”
“Unless I am very much mistaken, yes.”
Henry was lost for words.
The Peverells had merged with his own family several centuries prior when Iolanthe had married Hardwin Potter.
Surely this man could not be of the same line, and if he truly was, Henry could not fathom how that was so.
“Are you quite alright, Henry?” Reverend Seabrook asked.
“Surprised,” Henry answered honestly. “The Peverells…”
“Have been absent from here for almost one thousand years.”
“They have,” Henry murmured, his mind awash with how, after all this time and believing the family was extinct, one of them had suddenly emerged, seemingly from nowhere.
Was the young man aware of his ancestry, or that even they were kin of sorts?
Henry did not know, but it was something he would need to look into.
“Did you say he took possession of the Peverell home?”
Reverend Seabrook nodded.
“It was quite the spectacle according to those who witnessed it. From what little I know, none have been able to enter the property since the last of the Peverells vacated it, but Harry had no problem in doing so.”
Henry frowned thoughtfully.
He had made no attempt to claim what few assets remained of the Peverells, but he did not doubt that at least one of his own predecessors had and had been unsuccessful in doing so.
This Harry, however, seemed to have managed it when the Potters that came before him had not.
It was indeed a rather strange set of circumstances that would need to be treated delicately, but Henry Potter would be looking into it as a priority to establish the truth of the matter, and to see for himself if the young man truly was of his kin.
It was a rather bold claim to stake, and one that would certainly set the tongues wagging within certain circles in wizarding Britain when the knowledge inevitably spread across the country.
For Henry, he was simply in shock, and more questions than he could even begin to answer began assaulting his mind.
(Break)
“How is your cake, Harry?” Kendra asked.
“Well, it’s not treacle, but it’s not bad,” he answered.
It was a good cake, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it as much as he would like to. No, the feeling of an impending return was weighing heavily upon him, and in the last few hours alone, it had grown in urgency.
He’d been here almost a month now, and though he’d certainly made quite an impact on those around him, it felt too soon to leave, but perhaps the timing was perfect.
Ariana could not come to rely on him so wholeheartedly when it came to her recovery, and she had certainly reached a point that she needed to build on herself with the help of her family.
“You don’t seem yourself. Is something wrong?” Kendra asked.
“Not wrong, but something I’m not ready for,” he said apologetically. “I need to leave for a while.”
Immediately, he felt the mood around the table drop.
Kendra adopted a look of concern, both Albus and Aberforth were visibly disappointed that he would be going, and Ariana was nothing short of fearful.
“You’re leaving?” Abe asked. “Why?”
“Because there is somewhere else that I am needed,” Harry answered honestly. “There are things that I need to do that won’t wait forever.”
“Is this because of your parents?” Ariana asked quietly.
“Your parents?” Kendra pressed.
“It is,” Harry replied honestly.
“What about your parents?” Albus questioned.
Hary released a deep breath, but it was Ariana who spoke before him.
“Harry’s parents were murdered when he was a baby.”
“Merlin,” Kendra whispered, he eyes widening. “Harry, why didn’t you say?”
He shrugged.
“It’s just something I’ve lived with for as long as I can remember, but the man who did it…”
“Is still out there,” Albus broke in gravely.
“He is.”
“And you’re going to go after him?” Kendra scoffed.
“Not exactly,” Harry chuckled humourlessly. “He wants me dead, and us meeting each other is inevitable.”
“Inevitable? Harry, we both know that you are able to hide from him if you wanted to. Your house, he would never…”
She broke off, a deep frown creasing her brow.
“You don’t want to avoid him, or you can’t.”
“Both, I suppose,” Harry sighed.
“Magic,” Kendra murmured. “There is magic at play here.”
“Something like that, but like I said, it is not something I can avoid or hide from. One day, I will be free from it, one way or another.”
“Oh, Harry…”
He waved her off.
“I’ve always known it, and it is just a part of lots of things I need to handle, but I will be back. I’m just not sure when.”
“Well, I speak for all of us when I say that we will miss you, and that we are grateful for everything you have done for us. There is nothing that I can ever do to make up for it.”
“Knowing that I have been able to help in any way is more than I could ask for,” Harry replied sincerely, “and I have some gifts for you all.”
He removed the shrunken packages from within his robes, and handed each Albus, Aberforth, and Kendra one each, but held on to the last of them for now.
“Harry, you really shouldn’t have,” Kendra chided lightly, a warm smile cresting her lips as she opened an enormous stack of books.
“That is everything you will need to be able to teach Ariana to pass her OWLs, NEWTS, and everything in between,” Harry explained. “There is another book in there for you with some spells I thought you might find useful.”
He was taken aback when she swept him into her arms and placed a kiss on his cheek.
“It is a most thoughtful gift,” she said gratefully. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Aberforth added, beaming as he held his own books on Runes aloft. “These are brilliant.”
“And for mine,” Albus said sadly. “These will be quite challenging. Where did you find these?”
“Just something that was given to me by an old friend,” Harry replied coyly.
The books he had given Albus were a few of the very same his own Dumbledore had given him during their lessons together. The spells within were rather complex, but Hary already knew Albus would master them.
He truly was a once in a generation talent, perhaps in Albus’s case, several generations.
“Do you really have to go?” Ariana asked.
She was terrified, and Harry could feel her magic reacting to her fear, so he took her by the hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as he’d been wont to do during their time together.
“I do, but I saved the best gifts for you. This one is for you when you need just a little encouragement or comfort,” he explained, handing her a shrunken box.
Within were dozens of sealed envelopes he had painstakingly collated for when Ariana was having a particularly bad day, or just needed a few words from him.
“And there is this one.”
He handed her a much smaller box containing something he would be hard-pressed to explain, but with the help of the Peverells, he’d managed to create something quite exceptional.
“It is beautiful,” Ariana whispered as she removed the lid to reveal a necklace with a crystal pendant. “It has your magic in it!”
Harry nodded.
“It will feel like I am with you when you’re working on your Occlumency,” he explained, “and when you’re not feeling so good…”
She gasped as she took hold of the crystal, and it glowed brightly, visibly calming her.
“It is tied to the magic of the village,” Harry explained, “and because it is the same as mine, it will never stop working so long as you are here. It’s not perfect, but it is the best I could do, for now. Our work will continue when I am back.”
Ariana wiped away an errant tear, but smiled, nonetheless, and Harry stood.
“You are coming back?” Albus asked. “You’re not just leaving?”
“I’m coming back,” Harry promised, “as soon as I can.”
Once more, he was swept into Kendra’s arms, and she squeezed him tightly, not quite as suffocatingly as Mrs Weasley, but her effort was not lacking.
“Do be careful, Harry, with whatever it is you are doing.”
“I will.”
She placed another kiss on his cheek and shook her head.
“Thank you, for everything. We all really appreciate it.”
“I know,” Harry assured her, chuckling as the wind was almost torn from his lungs.
Ariana had taken Kendra’s place in attempting to squeeze the life out of him.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she whispered. “I…”
“You will be just fine,” Harry assured. “You have everything you need, so, when I am back, I expect to be having lunch with you again in here.”
Ariana nodded.
“Promise me,” Harry insisted.
She rolled her eyes at him but nodded.
“I promise.”
“Good. I will be back before you know it.”
With a final nod another sad smile, Harry reluctantly left the Dumbledore home for what would likely be a lengthy absence for them, but a much shorter one for him.
He only hoped that all of his work with Ariana would not be undone in the interim.
“Do you have everything you will need?” Ignotus asked as he arrived in the entrance hall of his own house.
“I just need to pack you three into my trunk and lock this place down.”
“Us three?”
“Death never said I couldn’t take you with me,” Harry pointed out.
The Peverell brothers chuckled as they were shrunk and placed into one of the trunks Harry carried with him, and with a wave of his wand, the protections around the home fell into place.
He wasn’t ready, but that time for him to leave had inevitably come upon him, and just as he finished pocketing his trunks, the familiar archway appeared in front of him along with the little thestral he was getting to know so well.
It was no longer favouring one of its forelegs and had seemed to have even grown a little bit, but it was still far from being the size it would one day be.
Much like Harry.
“Come Death, come,” he murmured, running his fingers along the leatherlike skin of his companion as he stepped through the archway once more, in no doubt of what awaited him on the other side, much unlike being here.
Still, Christmas was upon him, and Harry wouldn’t deny that he was looking forward to spending it with his friends at the Burrow.
(Break)
“I can only imagine the look on Malfoy’s face when he received that letter from your brother,” Marius snorted. “He does have a way of putting the shits up people without meaning to. Or he does mean to, but makes it look unintentional,” he added with a frown.
Octavius could only shake his head.
“I warned him,” he sighed. “I told him that the other families will not take kindly to having anyone prying into their histories, but you know what Cantankerus is like. His pig-headed, and stubborn.”
“I rather find him admirable,” Orion interjected. “I had no problem granting him access to our family archives. Only those that have something to hide will deny him, but we all know he will find a way.”
“He wrote to you?” Octavius choked. “The man is a damned fool!”
Orion waved him and even chuckled.
“It is as I said, we have nothing to hide. Our lineage dates back centuries, as pure as any other family could hope to be.”
Octavius shook his head once more, accepting another measure of whiskey as it was poured for him.
“I was hoping that we may have an idea who the boy who interrupted your hunt is by now,” Orion sighed, “but despite me putting the word out a few weeks ago now, I have gotten no answers.
“Nor me,” Octavius offered apologetically. “I had considered discussing it with Potter given the familiar description, but it is not as though Henry would either confirm or deny anything. Not that we need him to. He has only one son, and no other male relative of which to speak.”
“No, he does not,” Marius mused aloud, “so, I expect it is just a rather odd coincidence this boy was there. I can think of no other pureblood family he is a part of.”
“So, either a mudblood or a half-blood,” Orion broke in. “He will surface, and one of our own who is looking for him will recognise him. Those eyes are impossible to miss.”
They fell silent for several moments, each enjoying their whiskey and high-end cigars that Octavius had supplied them with.
“So, how far back do you think Malfoy’s line goes?” Marius asked amusedly, eliciting a snicker from his older brother.
“Well, Cantankerus says no more than five,” Octavius informed them, “but I doubt we will see his findings for a while yet. You know what he is like. He is as thorough as they come, and there will be those unwilling to cooperate. Not that he will give up. He will find whatever information he is looking for, even with the Peverell that arrived in Godric’s Hollow not so long ago.”
Orion Black choked on the whiskey he was sipping, and he wiped the dribble from his chin.
“Did you say Peverell, as in the Peverell family from Wales?”
“I did,” Octavius confirmed with a frown. “According to my brother, and Bathilda Bagshot, this boy really is a Peverell. He even managed to claim the ancestral home for himself.”
Orion and Marius shared a knowing look, both of them evidently rather troubled by the revelation.
“They’re just stories, Orion,” the latter said reassuringly. “You know what Uncle Sirius was like.”
“Stories or not, the return of the Peverell family is not exactly going to be welcomed. There are those families with long memories who would’ve been told similar stories, and if there is any truth in them, some rather ugly occurrences could come from it.”
“Why?” Octavius asked.
Orion frowned as he leaned forward, his expression troubled.
“The Peverells were once among the most feared families in the country, perhaps even more so than our own. The rumours about the magic they wielded were enough to turn most away from claiming a large part of the Welsh lands, but there were those that were not deterred. Those that survived those attempts were never the same again. Godric’s Hollow exists as it does because it was never taken over by any of the pureblood families, and the Peverells refused to accept an offered lordship from the Wizengamot when the Wizard’s Council formed the Ministry of Magic. Form what little we know, the situation became very ugly until the Peverells simply died out. Even then, the Ministry could lay no claim to the lands there. The magic protecting it would not allow them to, so it is something of an anomaly, a part of Britain that belongs to none. If the Peverells have indeed returned in any capacity…”
He broke off and shook his head, but the implications were not lost on Octavius.
“There will be those wanting to claim it for leverage over the Ministry, or the Ministry themselves will do so.”
“Maybe,” Orion murmured thoughtfully. “I do not think the Ministry of Magic would act with hostility, not how they may have once done. It will not be well-received by any, but that will not stop those families who bear a grudge from doing so, and with it not being officially recognised under the jurisdiction of the magical government…”
“There is no law preventing them from doing so,” Marius said knowingly.
“Exactly,” Orion sighed. “I think it may be best to meet with this Peverell sooner rather than later to get a measure of him, and at the very least, warn him of what he may be up against.”
“Why?” Octavius asked.
“Because if there is indeed any truth in the stories we have been told, I would much rather have him as neutral at worst towards me than a dangerous enemy.”
“But he is just a boy,” Octavius pointed out.
“One that may well become all but a king in time, just like those that came before him,” Orion replied, the troubled frown he wore becoming deeper with concern.