Those of the Past
He struck the ball, ensuring he followed through with his driver, and watched as it sailed through the air, nodding as it landed on the neighbouring lawn with a dull thud.
Lining up another ball, he repeated the action, though this time, it landed on his side of the wall.
Releasing a deep breath and shaking his head, he leaned the club against the wall, unable to shake himself of his maudlin thoughts.
Ever since he’d spoken to the headmistress of Durmstrang, those thoughts had been troubling him, and Nicholas remained unsure on how to proceed.
For now, he had urged Albus to take a break from their efforts, take a little time to refresh before they would continue with their work, but if he was being honest with himself, it was Nicholas that needed a little time.
In good conscience, he wasn’t certain he could allow their work to continue given what he’d learned about Gellert Grindelwald and his apprentice\s relationship with the man.
Nicholas had spent centuries cultivating the reputation of being a bright, learned man who did not trouble himself with such things as politics, or involving himself with controversial figures, and now, he found himself in a rather compromising position.
Of course, nothing was set in stone, and there was no evidence that Grindelwald had done anything wrong since he’d been expelled from Durmstrang, but his delving into such troubling magic was not something Nicholas could so easily dismiss.
No, if he was willing to do such a thing a such a young age, there was no telling what he would be capable of now that he was older.
Was it possible he’d learned from his mistakes?
Indeed it was, but Nicholas was sceptical and had even become rather cynical in his old age.
He had seen many men walk a path that should not be set upon, and for all of them, it was their morbid curiosity and a taste of power that led them along the way in search of more.
From what little he knew of this Grindelwald, he fit that mould a little too snuggly for Nicholas’s liking, and though he knew that Albus was exceptionally ambitious, he did not believe he would follow suit.
Well, he would not have believed such a thing until he’d come to realise just how it was the young man felt for the other.
He was a fool in love, and fools in love did foolish things.
Whether or not he would be foolish enough to follow Grindelwald in whatever it was the man chose to do remained to be seen, but Nicholas was not sure he was willing to take such a risk.
“You’re still brooding.”
“I am.”
“Then why not put yourself out of your misery and speak to the boy. You are solving nothing by mulling it over as much as you are.”
“Because I am worried.”
“Worried?”
“That Albus will learn the truth and choose to remain blissfully ignorant of it.”
“And that is not your responsibility, Nicholas,” Perenelle said firmly. “He is a man with his own keen mind, and if he chooses not to listen to it, the consequences will be his to bear.”
Nicholas deflated as he nodded.
“Perhaps you are right,” he conceded.
“I am rarely wrong. Speak with him. Tell him what it is you have learned, and then the rest will be up to him, no?”
“I know, but there is a part of me that already knows what he will choose. Fools in love, my dear. They are the foolhardiest of men.”
“Even you.”
Nicholas smiled at his wife fondly.
“Even me, after all of these years together.”
Perenelle rolled her eyes at him.
“Stupid man,” she said fondly. “Come, your lunch is ready, and I think you have a letter to write.”
Nicholas nodded.
Maybe he had been avoiding discussing what was troubling him with Albus because he strongly suspected the outcome, but it was as Perenelle said. He would be free to make whatever choice he wished.
Nicholas just hoped he would make the right one now and not live to regret it if he didn’t because he would.
Men like Gellert Grindelwald were never satisfied with their lot, and Nicholas would not see Albus be dragged down with him when his ambitions and actions inevitably caught up with him.
(Break)
To Lord Henry Potter,
I would first like to apologise for the delay in responding to you. I am often away from my home for extended periods of time and would not like for you to think I have ignored or slighted you.
Of course, I would be honoured to accept your invitation to dine with you and your family and look forward to doing so.
As things are, I am available for the next week, so, whenever is convenient for you will be acceptable for me.
Warmest regards,
Harry Peverell
“Do you understand the importance of this, William?”
The young man nodded cautiously.
“The Peverells,” he mused aloud. “Their family was absorbed into ours when Iolanthe married Hardwin some eight hundred or so years ago.”
“Or so we believed,” Henry pointed out. “It appears that is not entirely so, which makes this a rather delicate situation. If this Peverell wishes to stake a claim for anything we inherited from them, we would be hard-pressed to deny him.”
“Would he do that?”
Henry frowned thoughtfully.
“I do not know, but he has already claimed the ancestral home, which proves who he is. It remains to be seen what reception we can expect from him, if he is aware of his family history.”
“Well, he seems amiable enough,” William pointed out, gesturing to the letter. “There’s no sign of any hostility.”
Henry nodded.
“We must still be cautious as I expect he will be. He’s already garnered attention from the Notts and Blacks. People will take an interest in him simply because of the tales of the Peverells of old.”
“Do you believe them?”
Henry nodded solemnly.
“There is no reason not to. Iolanthe Peverell herself spoke of their magic, their relationship with things not of this world, and even how it affected her son.”
William nodded.
“Well, I suppose all we can do is see what happens when we meet him.”
“Exactly,” William concurred. “Now, have you given any further thought to Lord Fawley’s offer to marry his daughter? It is a good match for you both.”
“I have, and I think you’re right. I remember her from Hogwarts. She was in Hufflepuff, two years above me.”
“And Lord Fawley has made it clear he was eager to wait until you were of age to see his daughter married to you. From what he has said, she is quite keen on it.”
William rolled his eyes as he stood.
“I would like to court her first, Father. We know of each other, but don’t know each other. I wouldn’t want either of us to rush into anything.”
“I think that is an excellent idea. Will you write to her, or would you like for me to make the arrangements?”
“I will write to her and to Lord Fawley to make my intentions clear. He will respect me more if I approach him.”
Henry nodded encouragingly, and he read the letter he’d received from Harry Peverell once more, removing his quill and some parchment to send a reply.
(Break)
His work with Ariana was the one thing he could categorically say had been a success. It had not been easy getting through to the girl or even finding a way to help her control and accept her magic, but already, she had lived longer than she had previously and was thriving.
If only everything else could’ve been as successful. If that was so, Voldemort would already be dead, and Grindelwald would not be an impending threat here.
Still, he was happy that Ariana’s fate had not remained the same, and dealing with everything else was softened by her progress.
“I think I would like a pet, Harry, some kind of companion.”
She had mentioned it previously, and given that it was still on her mind, it wasn’t a passing fancy.
“Well, what would you like?”
Ariana frowned thoughtfully.
“I’m not sure.”
“You strike me as a cat person.”
She grimaced.
“You don’t have a pet cat, you become a servant of one. Well, that’s what my Dad said.”
“A friend of mine has a cat. He’s half-kneazle, and a miserable little git. Looks as though he’s been smacked in the face with a frying pan.”
Ariana giggled amusedly.
“No, I wouldn’t say I’m a cat person, and I’m not ready for a dog.”
“Well, the only thing I can suggest is for you to go somewhere they sell animals so you can see for yourself, and even if there is something that will want to bond with you.”
“Oh, well, I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“I know, but when you are, we can go, and I will even buy your first pet for you.”
“You don’t have to do that, Harry.”
“No, but I want to. Think of it as a reward for doing so well with everything I’ve asked of you. In the few years we’ve known each other, you’ve come so far.”
“But I’m not fully better.”
“No, and you might never be entirely comfortable in some situations, but as things are, you are coping really well. You’re even outside now, and your mother says you are just as talented as Abe and Albie.”
Ariana smiled as she drew her wand and created the very same light Harry had the night they’d first met.
“You managed to replicate it.”
“It wasn’t easy. You must be brilliant with charms to create this. Well, I already know you are. I still can’t do a patronus. Mum can, and so can Albie. I think Abe is working on it.”
“It’s a very difficult spell to master, but I think you will get there. It will be harder for you than most, but with everything I’ve seen from you, I won’t doubt you. Have you heard from Albie?”
Ariana deflated.
“He doesn’t write much, but he’s in America at the moment. He said something about having some time off from his work with Flamel and preparing to submit his work to be given his Transfiguration mastery. Grindelwald has somehow gotten a job working at MACUSA, but Albie didn’t say exactly what he was doing.”
Harry frowned at the revelation.
Whatever it was, he did not doubt the man was up to no good.
Here, it would be problematic to discover what he was doing without raising suspicion, but it certainly gave him a lead to follow back home. He would need to find someone who’d been around during the time Grindelwald was overseas.
It was no easy feat, but there had to be someone who could tell him something of use.
It was something he would need to look into as a priority if he was going to stop the man in his tracks from attempting to subjugate the world to his whims.
If he could manage such a thing.
With Riddle, he’d become familiar with the way he fought and even his unpredictably, but Harry did not doubt that Grindelwald was different. Dumbledore had told him as much, had explained that Grindelwald was much more calculated than Voldemort, not so readily led by his emotions, and much cleverer and creative with his magic.
He presented an entirely different set of problems for Harry, a challenge he’d never expected to face, and yet, through the oddest and most unbelievable of circumstances, here he was.
“Maybe I should write to him for what good it would do.”
“It wouldn’t,” Ariana sighed. “I wrote to him and told him to stop being an idiot, but he didn’t listen. Mum is worried about him, and Dad hasn’t taken the news well. Do you think I’d be able to visit him?”
“Albus?”
“No, my Dad. I haven’t spoken to mother about it, but, I thought that maybe…”
She broke off with a shrug, and Harry frowned.
Truthfully, he’d been far too occupied with Ariana and everything else going on in his life to give Percival Dumbledore much consideration. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could do for the man given what he’d been locked away for.
Of course, his sentencing had been rather harsh, but without considerable backing from some key members of society, there was no chance of it being reduced or overturned.
Maybe it was something else for him to look into.
“Well, I expect you’d have to write to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to request a visit. I’m not sure how these things work, but I can look into it for you.”
Ariana offered him an appreciative smile.
“Thank you.”
“I wouldn’t be thanking me. Azkaban is not a very pleasant place and the dementors, well, they have a way of making you relive your most unpleasant memories. You must be strong to be around them…”
“And I’m not.”
“Not yet, but I do not doubt that you will be. I’ll tell you what, I will look into the process of arranging a visit, and the two of us can start working on casting the patronus. I think you might just be ready for that.”
“Really?”
Harry smiled sincerely.
“Really, but that does mean we will have to do things to push you further out of your comfort zone. We will need to be able to start leaving the house, and maybe even going other places. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’ll be with me.”
Ariana seemed worried by the very thought, but nodded, nonetheless.
“If it will help me get to see my Dad again, I’ll do it.”
“Then there’s no reason to delay. We can either start with the charm, or we can go for a walk. It’s up to you.”
Her gaze drifted towards the gate, which was only a dozen feet away, and Harry saw her visibly pale.
“How about the charm, for now,? he suggested. “The walk can wait.”
Ariana breathed a sigh of relief and frowned at him questioningly.
“May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about.”
“You can.”
“Well, we’ve known each other for a few years now. I was only eleven, and now I’m nearly fourteen. I’ve grown a lot, Harry, and not just up here,” she said, pointing to her head. “In all this time, you don’t look like you’ve aged a day.”
This was something he’d expected to be noticed, though perhaps not so soon. He hadn’t figured out how he would explain it, and now the question had been asked, he was no surer.
“It’s… complicated,” he sighed.
Ariana eyed him for a moment before nodding.
“You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” she decided. “Now, where do we begin with the charm?”
She was so self-assured that he would indeed tell her, or maybe she had just come to trust him so implicitly that she didn’t think he would keep things from her, but as things were, it was undoubtedly for her own good.
Besides, there were many other things Harry needed to navigate before he could even consider such a thing.
Only a few hours prior, he’d received a reply from Henry Potter inviting him to dinner with his family, but it was Cantankerus Nott who’d been the most eager to make his acquaintance.
Still, it wasn’t as though his was wholly unprepared to meet with the man.
He’d had the foresight to look into him a little and even familiarise himself with some of his. Harry wanted to know the calibre of the person who’d taken such an interest in him, especially given the name he carried.
No, Cantankerus Nott was not like the rest of his family. He was a proud pureblood and was likely at least a little bigoted in his ways, but not so much that he would follow someone like Riddle.
If anything, he’d trodden on more than a few toes when compiling his list of the sacred pureblood families in Britain, having dug up and published things about several of them they would not be pleased with.
Even so, Nott may be a scholar for the most part, but Harry was not taking any chances and would be cautious when he met the overly curious man in the coming days.
(Break)
She’d never enjoyed the warmer climes of certain parts of the continent, which was why she’d only ever visited her aunt once when she’d been a little girl, but it had certainly been a memorable one.
Her grandfather and Aunt Cassie had not gotten along, but the woman had visited a few times, most likely to irritate the man, though she’d taken an interest in getting to know her great nieces and nephews.
Bellatrix in particular had taken a shine to her.
She’d never married, was an incredibly talented witch, and even years after the war on the continent, the mere mention of her name was enough to elicit a fearful shudder within most.
Bellatrix had wanted to be just like her, and Cassiopeia had taken her under her wing briefly, had shown her how to use the family magic to its full potential, and even shown her a few other tricks she’d picked up along the way.
She remembered her aunt regaling her with tales of her time on the continent, of how she’d spent years at Grindelwald’s side, and just what an amazing wizard he’d been.
Cassiopeia had told her about the blue fire Potter had wielded it, though she’d been unable to teach her it, or any other spell Grindelwald had created himself.
The man, according to her aunt, had been incredibly protective of his creations, and had not even shared them with his most devoted.
Bellatrix wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand before casting a cooling charm on herself.
Why her aunt had chosen to live in Spain of all places, she did not know.
“The last I heard of you was that you’d been locked away for the rest of your life.”
She froze as she felt the tip of a wand pressed into her back, but the familiarity of the voice prevented her from reacting.
“Things have changed.”
“I can see that.”
Bellatrix turned slowly to be greeted by her smiling aunt. The woman did not look to be more than the hundred years she was, but she had noticeably aged since she’d seen her last.
“Hello, Aunt Cass.”
The woman frowned at her and merely gestured for her to follow.
Bellatrix did so, and only a few moments later, the two of them entered a nearby cottage in the north of the village.
“Why do you live among the filth?”
“The muggles? Well, for several reasons. Firstly, none of them know who I am. There’s barely a place in the magical world I can go without being recognised, and that is the second reason. I would rather live among the mundane than the damned fools who hold power in our world.”
Bellatrix nodded thoughtfully.
“So, you don’t know anything about what is happening at home?”
Cassiopeia shook her head as she tapped a kettle on the stove with her wand.
“The last piece of news I received was that of Arcturus’s death. With you locked up, Narcissa married to the pompous prat, Andromeda absconding with the mudblood, and Regulus missing, I stopped paying attention. I did hear a rumour of a Black escaping Azkaban a few years ago. I assume that was you.”
Bellatrix grinned as she shook her head.
“No, that was Sirius.”
“Sirius? What was the damned fool doing in Azkaban?”
Bellatrix’s smile widened as she explained what had happened, and her aunt merely shook her head when she was done.
“He always was a damned fool. Your grandfather believed he had potential to be a great lord.”
Bellatrix scoffed at the thought.
“Well, rather him than Narcissa’s stupid son. The boy is just like the rest of the Malfoys. A coward and a braggart. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from her?”
“Why would I have?”
“Because she fled with the boy. The Dark Lord gave him an opportunity to prove his worth, and he failed. Instead of allowing him to face up to his mistakes, Narcissa took him and ran. Lucius is still looking for them.”
Cassiopeia shook her head disappointedly.
“And so the Blacks have come to a rather bitter end,” she chuckled humourlessly. “I did warn Arcturus. I told him he needed to take a firmer hand with his idiot sons. Instead, he allowed you all to be married off to the scum of society. Look at you, Bella. You could’ve been so much more.”
“I am the Dark Lord’s right hand.”
Cassiopeia stared at her for a moment before positively cackling.
“I was the right hand of the most brilliant and powerful of men, and it is no secret what happened to him,” she said bitterly. “My Gellert was the most exceptional of wizards, girl.”
“Which is why I am here,” Bellatrix replied, ignoring the poorly veiled jab.
Cassiopeia had never met the Dark Lord. If she had, that same reverence she spoke of Grindelwald with would pale in comparison to how in awe of her master she would be.
“Is that so?”
Bellatrix nodded.
“You once told me of a piece of magic he was so proud of, a blue flame that destroyed everything in its path.”
“Ah, it was marvellous,” Cassiopeia declared. “I saw him wield it once, and it took the power of dozens of others to quash it. Gellert was especially proud of that one.”
“And he did not show anyone how to use it?”
“Not even me.”
Bellatrix hummed thoughtfully.
“Then maybe you will be able to tell me why Harry Potter is able to use it.”
Cassiopeia frowned.
“The boy who survived the killing curse from your master?”
Bellatrix’s jaw clenched at the mention of that unfortunate incident.
“Yes,” she ground out.
Cassiopeia’s frowned deepened.
“Are you certain?”
“It is as exactly as you described it to me. He even took down a fully grown giant with it. It took the form of a thestral.”
Cassiopeia mumbled incoherently under her breath.
“Gellert,” she whispered. “The only place he could’ve learned it is from Gellert himself.”
“Grindelwald is dead!”
“No, no,” Cassiopeia denied. “Albus would not have had the guts to kill him. No, Gellert is not dead, especially if the Potter boy is wielding his magic. He must be alive. I thought…”
Bellatrix watched as her aunt began pacing back and forth, wondering if the woman had taken leave of her senses. She seemed to be rather unhinged as she pondered what she’d learned.
If Grindelwald was alive, and had been all these decades since he’d been defeated, where had he been?
That was the pertinent question, yet, before Bellatrix could begin to consider it, her aunt summoned her cloak.
“I should’ve known,” she said irritably. “I should’ve known Dumbledore would not have killed him. Why did I not know?”
“Where are you going?” Bellatrix asked.
“To see the old fool! I will have the truth from him!”
“Well, you won’t get much luck. Dumbledore is dead.”
Cassiopeia paused, her eyes widening as she met Bellatrix’s gaze.
“Dead? How…when?”
“Several months ago. He got sick, and he died,” Bellatrix answered with a shrug. “Why do you think it has been so easy for the Dark lord to take control of Britain the way he has? Even Hogwarts is in his hands.”
Cassiopeia seemed uncharacteristically lost.
She’d always been a self-assured woman, but at the very thought that Grindelwald was out there, still alive, she had lost all composure.
Bellatrix understood.
When she had been in Azkaban and feeling her mark growing stronger, she had been in a similar state of anticipation and had impatiently waited for her master to come to her. He had, but Grindelwald, it seemed, would not be coming for her aunt.
What would it mean if the man was still alive?
It was something the Dark lord would be interested in, even if only to rid himself of a potential threat.
How much of a threat would Grindelwald even be?
The man was well over a century old and had been seemingly living in exile for several decades, if he was indeed alive. The more she pondered it, the more Bellatrix believed that might be so.
Her aunt was utterly convinced that Potter could not wield such magic without being taught directly by Grindelwald, which was yet another concerning revelation.
Grindelwald’s reputation as not for nothing.
Many had attempted to confront the man during his uprising, and only a young, exceedingly talented and powerful Dumbledore had gotten the better of him.
Still, Bellatrix was not so concerned about the fate of Gellert Grindelwald as much as she was about what he may or may not have taught Potter.
“I told you, Dumbledore is dead. You won’t get any answers from him.”
“No, but there is somewhere else I will get them,” Cassiopeia returned as she began packing a trunk. “Dumbledore may not be able to speak with me, but Potter can.”
Bellatrix scoffed at the revelation.
“The coward is in hiding! He is not going to speak with you.”
“Oh, he will speak with me. I’m sure there is something I can use to entice him out. I will have my answers!”
Bellatrix shook her head.
“The Dark Lord wants him dead more than anyone. If you have a way of getting to him…”
Her eyes widened as she found herself staring down the length of her aunt’s wand.
“You will not interfere in my business, girl. I do not care what your master wants. I now have business with Potter, and until it is concluded, you and your master can hang for all I care. Now, where can I find the boy?”
Bellatrix shook her head.
“I don’t know, but Sirius left everything to him, the gold, and all the properties.”
Cassiopeia nodded and chuckled humourlessly.
“Then I will make myself known at every last one of them until he speaks with me,” she declared. “If Gellert is alive, I will know the truth of the matter.”
With a gentle pop, she vanished, and Bellatrix remained where she was for several moments, wondering if she had made a mistake coming here.
She’d only come to gather information about some magic that Potter had used, and now, the woman had seen fit to interject herself into the Dark Lord’s affairs.
It was a most unexpected outcome, and one her master would not be pleased with, especially as Bellatrix had come away with nothing of use.
(Break)
“I would rather not be recognisable.”
“Then make a few minor changes. Your eye colour is rather distinct, but add few others, and you’ll look like a new man.”
Harry nodded as he began experimenting, nodding to himself when he was satisfied with his efforts.
He had never been to a fancy restaurant.
Whenever the Dursleys had decided to eat out for dinner, he’d either been left with Mrs Figg to enjoy some of her homemade cakes, or simply hurled into his cupboard, and left with a few scraps of bread to see him through.
Not that he remained there.
When alone in the house, he would take the rare opportunity to eat whatever food he could lay his hands on.
It wasn’t as though it would be noticed, not with how much Dudley ate each passing day.
Despite never dining anywhere like the place he found himself being greeted in now, he knew that he needed to dress the part, and having donned a subtle yet noticeable disguise, he’d dressed in a formal set of robes before making his way to Diagon Alley.
Cantankerus Nott was not so difficult to pick out of the crowd.
He was seated at a table by himself, sipping a glass of wine, and though he did not look as rat-like as his great-great nephew that Harry was familiar with, there was still a noteworthy resemblance between the two.
“Ah, you must be the elusive, Harry Peverell,” Nott greeted him, offering a hand as he stood.
Harry accepted the proffered limb as he nodded.
“Cantankerus Nott,” he acknowledged.
“Not the most apt of names,” the man chuckled. “Please, join me.”
Harry did so, and the man poured him a cup of wine, pausing as he took in his appearance.
“You are much younger than I expected.”
“Of age in just a few weeks,” Harry informed the man who added the wine to his own glass, sliding a glass of water towards him instead.
“Well, I can imagine that you are not so familiar with my established work. Why would you be? History is rather dull until you are old enough to appreciate it.”
“I’ve read your thoughts on the goblin rebellions of the fifteenth century,” Harry replied, “and even your thoughts on magical genealogy. I found both fascinating.”
Nott was taken aback and raised his glass in response.
“A keen mind,’ he praised. “My, this may well prove to be more interesting than I’d anticipated. I do not tolerate dullards well, Mr Peverell, but in my line of work, I often find myself conversing with them. Now, let us talk whilst we mull over this fine menu. Why has your family been absent for so long?”
Harry had discussed what questions might be raised with the Peverells, and how he could explain away that the Peverells had been missing for so many centuries.
The tale he had spun with the three brothers was convoluted at best, but given so much time had passed, it would be all but impossible to disprove.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much,” he offered apologetically, “but what I do know is that my ancestor was a bastard child of Antioch Peverell. He died when he was young with no one knowing that he had a son. After what happened to him, my family fled Britain for their safety. I’m the first one to come back. I intended only to see if there was anything I could learn about my heritage. I had no idea that my family name had such a reputation.”
Cantankerus nodded interestedly.
“Indeed,” he murmured. “Your family is steeped in mystery. To those of Godric’s Hollow, and even the entirety of Wales, your ancestors were protectors of the land, a protection which has grown stronger since you returned, Mr Peverell. I have felt the magic for myself. It is quite something.”
“It is all still new to me. It surprised me when Bathilda showed me the home and it welcomed me.”
Nott leaned back in his chair.
“For the magic to survive so long in the line is truly exceptional, well, your family magic in itself is like nothing else I have ever experienced, but for it to still be so potent is quite incredible.”
“I can’t say I understand it much. All I had growing up was a name. Both of my parents died when I was a baby.”
“Ah, I am sorry to hear that,” Nott offered sincerely. “So, you came home to get answers to the many questions you have. Well, I’m afraid the official records on the Peverells are rather sparse, and anything else you might find is mostly rumours and personal accounts of experiences with your ancestors. They were a rather secretive bunch, but I am happy to provide copies of what little I have uncovered.”
“For a price?”
Nott chuckled amusedly.
“You are sharp, Peverell. That will serve you well given that many have and will continue to take an interest in you. All I ask in return is that you share anything with me that you may discover, nothing personal, of course, but things that will be of interest to the wider world.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
At the very least, Cantankerus Nott was being honest with him.
The minor manipulation, he’d expected, but also so much more.
No, it appeared that Cantankerus Nott was here merely to satisfy his curiosity as a scholar and a man interested in the history that consumed much of his life.
It was rare to meet such a man, especially one from a prominent pureblood family who did nothing without trying to improve their standing, or perhaps Harry had gotten the wrong measure of him.
Only time would tell, but for now, it would be much more beneficial to have a resourceful man like Nott on his side rather than working against him.
It could certainly prove to be useful, after all.
“That seems fair,” he agreed, offering his hand once more.
Nott smiled as he accepted it.
“Excellent,” he declared. “Now, in honour of our coming together, Mr Peverell, I feel it would be most useful to you to know of those I am certain have taken an interest in you. Have you heard of Orion Black?”
(Break)
“Another great arrest, Graves. You’re beginning to get quite the reputation for your successes.”
“It’s a team effort,” Gellert said dismissively a he finished his report on the serial burglar he’d caught.
The man was responsible for no less than thirty crimes in the space of a year, and his methods had left the aurors scratching their heads. It turned out that the man himself was not personally committing the crimes but was employing a rather impressive group of creatures to do his bidding.
It wasn’t until Gellert had investigated one of the scenes for himself that he found just the slightest trace Niffler excrement that he’d set upon the one lead they’d gotten.
The man responsible was a well-known animal trader, and having matched the excrement to a Niffler belonging to the man, it took only a dose of Veritaserum to have the truth of what had happened.
He’d confessed to all of the crimes, and much of his takings had even been recovered.
In all, it had been a resounding success, and Gellert was once more credited with his efforts.
“Amazing work, Percival,” Nina Chambers, a woman he was often partnered with praised.
She had certainly been rather fond of Graves even before Gellert had assumed his identity, and that had only seemed to grow, despite his best efforts to deter her.
Perhaps that was where he was going wrong.
He was appearing to be unobtainable, and she seemed to like the challenge of it. Maybe it was something he could use to his advantage. An infatuation with him could certainly serve his ambitions in some way.
Gellert simply needed to figure out how.
“Thanks, Chambers,” he replied, placing his finished report on the pile of other paperwork on his desk before turning off the lamp, not lingering any longer than necessary before apparating away.
Percival Graves had not been one to socialise with his colleagues, which was one of the reasons Gellert had chosen him to be rid of.
“Albie?”
Gellert frowned as he entered the living room to find it empty.
In place of the man he shared the apartment with was a note waiting for him on the table, and his frown deepened as he read it.
Gellert,
I have gone to visit with Nicholas but should be no more than a few hours. I think he might be eager for us to continue our work.
Great news, I managed to finish and submit my work to be considered for my mastery in transfiguration, so, it is now a matter of waiting for a reply from the board.
Albus
He nodded approvingly, though released a deep breath as he reread the first half of the note.
Although he’d never met Flamel, he did not like the man.
He had a hold over Albus that Gellert did not appreciate, a hold that could be exploited should the alchemist choose. No, it didn’t sit right with Gellert, and should the man attempt to subvert his invaluable companion, he might just have to act against him or not.
Famed and revered figure across the magical world or not, Gellert would allow none to interfere with his ambitions.