Favours
The last and only other time she’d been inside a church had been the day her mother had been laid to rest. Luna had only been young, but she vividly remembered the sombre affair, how little of it she’d understood as she’d looked towards the doors waiting for the woman to appear for whatever it was that had brought them there.
Truthfully, it hadn’t been until several months later that she’d understood she would never see the woman again, or why her father had been so sad for the longest time after.
Even now, after all these years, that sadness lingered around Xenophilius Lovegood. He’d always tried to hide it from her, had thrown himself into his work to escape the thoughts of what had happened to his wife, and Luna could only imagine the torment he’d endured this past months since she’d been taken from him too.
“Hell, it is cold in here,” one of the other prisoners commented.
Luna did not recognise him, but his voice had become familiar.
For the most part, they’d been deprived of light, and it showed on all of them.
Most had not slept, but it was how unnaturally pale they’d all become during their imprisonment that spoke of the deprivation. All were undoubtedly thinner now than when they’d arrived, and many sported looks of wild animals who’d escaped an inevitable death by sheer fortune.
Wild gazes looked back at the man who spoke, all full of relief, but still questioning how it was they were here.
Harry.
He had come for them, and Luna could not even begin to find the words to show her gratitude.
For a moment, she thought that she might sob in relief, and perhaps she may have were it not for another beating her to it.
Daphne Greengrass had been incarcerated within Malfoy Manor than most here, and she’d been one of the prisoners who’d been taken away regularly to be questioned.
Luna could only imagine what misery she had endured.
The other girl had always been rather aloof at Hogwarts, kept herself to a very small circle of friends for the most part, but had always been friendly enough to people from other houses.
Like many others among those gathered in the cold church, she’d been broken by her ordeal, and would likely never be the same.
Luna wasn’t certain she would be, and she’d been one of the luckier ones. Oh, she’d been questioned by Voldemort himself, had been mistreated, but for the most part, she’d been left to rot and fester in the makeshift prison.
“Dobby!” she whispered in disbelief as the house elf appeared, levitating trays laden with food and drinks.
He offered her a bow before clearing his throat.
“Master Harry will arrive shortly to arrange for you to be returned to your families,” he spoke, clicking his fingers and lighting a most welcome fire in the hearth of the church. “He has a safe place for you if you don’t have anywhere else to go. You should all be eating now.”
It was as though a switch had gone off in their minds at the sight of food, drink, and warmth they’d all been without for so long, and none spoke as they gorged themselves until they were sated.
She looked towards the setting sun beyond the skyscrapers in the distance, shaking her head of the thoughts that continued to plague her.
Harry had indeed arrived within the church some time after Dobby had departed, had even brought a healer along who’d checked on each of them, and in rather emotional drips and drabs, they’d departed with those that had been sent to fetch them.
Luna had been among the last to leave Godric’s Hollow, eager to learn all she could about what had happened, and how Harry had come to know about her being missing.
He’d truly gone out of his way to get her and the others out of there, and even more so to see her and her father out of Britain.
For now, they were staying in a New York apartment that had belonged to the Blacks, which Harry insisted they make use of for as long as they like. It wasn’t home, but both Luna and her father would be eternally grateful for all Harry Potter had done for them.
How long they would remain here, Luna did not know. She was simply relieved to be out of the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, grateful for the friend who’d seen it so, and grateful that her father had not been forced to bury another loved one.
“It is quite pretty in its own way,” the man commented from behind her as he too watched the sunset.
“It is, but it isn’t home. There’s a lack of nargles here.”
Her father nodded solemnly.
“Yes, they don’t seem to like the cities so much,” he said knowingly, “and I’m afraid any hope of finding a snorcack here is very little,” he added with a frown, placing a kiss on the top of her head before he headed back inside.
Luna didn’t mind it here so much.
It was a place of safety, and though she’d wanted to stay in Britain to help Harry, he’d all but insisted she stay with her father, assuring her that he had everything in hand.
He did.
Despite all that had happened across Britain these past few years, Luna did not doubt that it would be Harry Potter who would come out on top.
It was simply what he did, even if his future after remained uncertain.
She frowned at the thought.
She’d always been somewhat gifted at seeing what life had in store for those she knew, and yet, when it came to Harry Potter, it was as though fate itself could not be certain of what lie ahead of him.
What Luna did know was that there was something beyond that of Voldemort, who would meet a most unpleasant end, but what would become of Harry Potter, she could not begin to fathom.
(Break)
He wanted nothing more than to tear Riddle limb from limb, to end whatever it was Fate had in store for them here and now, but as the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had obligations to the castle he could not ignore.
The protections had been left in tatters after Tom had torn through them, and it wasn’t as though he, the aurors, and professors were at any distinct advantage.
No, as frustrating as it was to simply repel the man and his followers from the grounds, Harry knew it was the right thing to do.
Besides, there was a part of him that could not help but relish in what he’d already achieved, and he wanted Riddle to know what he’d done, how big a blow he’d managed to strike against him, even if the Dark Lord would not realise that Harry knew exactly what he’d done.
Having managed to free the prisoners from within the Malfoy home and rid himself of yet another horcrux, Harry would deem the evening to be a victory for him, a significant loss for his enemies, and the perfect way to remind Riddle that he was not so invincible.
One left.
Although he didn’t know it yet, Tom was hanging onto life by a mere thread, and soon enough, it would be cut away.
Right now, however, the castle needed to be put back in order, beginning with the Slytherin students who’d been locked away for the duration of what had unfolded this evening.
With a wave of his wand, the door to the common room opened, and the gathered members of the house could only look at him dumbly as he entered.
“Potter?” Blaise Zabini questioned confusedly.
Harry nodded, his gaze sweeping across the room, pausing on certain students to see if they would act as foolishly as they once had. Without Malfoy’s influence, however, there was no sign they would, well, for now, at least.
“Before you are either allowed to remain here or return to your families, you will all be searched. We will begin by raising our left sleeves.”
Most complied without question, but a few hesitated, and Harry was not surprised.
Malfoy had undoubtedly been marked, and he’d suspected others had pledged themselves to Voldemort. Whether they had done so willingly remained to be seen, but he was taking no chances, not when the safety of the others within the castle was at stake.
“Nott,” he pressed.
The young man looked towards the door as though he might make a run for it, and Harry saw his hand twitch towards his wand. Before he could reach for it, however, he slumped forward courtesy of a stunning spell.
“Anyone else?” Harry asked.
Millicent Bulstrode stepped forward, lifting her sleeve to expose her own mark, as did a few sixth years Harry did not recognise along with Crabbe and Goyle, who both foolishly attempted to barge their way out of the common room.
They too were rendered unconscious.
“The rest of you will make your way to the Great Hall where Professor Slughorn is waiting for you,” Harry instructed, surprised that there had been no questions or demands for information.
Still, he suspected they were all rather taken aback by his appearance, especially as they believed up until only a few moments prior that the castle was under the control of the Dark Lord.
“What will you do with them, Harry?” Tonks asked.
“The sixth years are underage, so, the best I can do is have them expelled,” he said with a shrug. “The ministry won’t be any use, but the rest of them are adults, and for now, they will be taken somewhere they can’t play any further part in the war. Besides, it will serve to remind their parents of the risks they have taken by throwing their lot in with Riddle. I doubt it will do any good, but they won’t like their children being used as pawns against them.”
Nurmengard had welcomed another four inmates shortly after he’d taken his leave of the castle, though thus far, there had been no mention of them being missing.
Either Tom’s followers did not anticipate their children coming under such scrutiny, or their knew there was nothing he could do for them.
Regardless, Harry had gained something of an additional advantage from his escapades that night, even if he had lost something else in the process. What that was, he hadn’t yet decided, and that feeling of bittersweetness after he’d viewed the memories Snape had given him in his dying moments had only increased.
He was certain he still despised the man as much as he aways had, though perhaps it was more now, and yet, he could not deny that he had spent the remainder of his years trying to atone for what he’d done.
Nonetheless, he would get no absolution from Harry, who would undoubtedly kill him himself for his transgressions if he was still alive.
He claimed to have loved Lily Potter, claimed that she meant so much to him, but ultimately, it was his jealousy and hate for James Potter that had won out in the end, seeing him pledge himself to Voldemort.
He shook his head of his warring thoughts of the man.
There was no use pondering him, his actions, or his part in the death of Harry’s parents, not when none of it could be changed. Snape had done what he’d done, and James and Lily had trusted the wrong man with their safety.
Ultimately, it was still Riddle who’d murdered them both.
“I know,” Harry murmured tiredly as yet another urging washed over him.
It seemed to be a most inopportune time to be returning to the other world, and yet, the pull to do so had been growing and growing with each passing day.
Not that Riddle had been seen or heard of since he’d been forcibly removed from Hogwarts.
All was quiet on the war front once more, and would be for some time yet, which meant that Harry could no longer ignore what else was required of him, whatever that may be outside of putting an end to Grindelwald’s ambitions.
Fortunately, he’d already been busy ensuring all would be well enough whilst he was away. Dobby and Winky would continue watching over the prisoners within Nurmengard, and Filius would serve as the headmaster of the castle in his absence.
Dawlish and the rest of the aurors would be on high alert to anything transpiring across the country, and Hermione would be here to handle anything that required immediate attention.
Yes, all would be in hand, but Harry felt as though he was so close to putting an end to the Dark Lord that, in his mind, now was not the right time to pull back in his efforts. If anything, it should now be him pressing the advantage he had taken for himself.
Fate, however, seemed to have other ideas, and if nothing else, Harry had learned that he, and all others were merely tools for such beings.
What awaited him upon his return, he did not know. It had been more months than he cared to count that he’d last seen Ariana or anyone else on the other side.
Still, despite the frustration he was feeling, he was still looking forward to seeing them and inevitably ensuring that Grindelwald did not manage to get his claws into the magical world as deeply as he once had.
(Break)
It was a myriad of emotions that plagued him as he looked upon the remains of his most faithful companion. Nagini had been like no other serpent he’d ever come across. Truthfully, she’d only been a snake in body. He remembered her regaling him with the tale of her life before she’d fully succumbed to the disease she’d suffered from.
Once upon a time, she had been a young woman like any other, ambitious in her own way, but her rare, almost unheard-of disease had changed the trajectory of her fate.
For several years, she had travelled with a magical circus, and even made the acquaintance of Grindelwald before the man had fallen, and she had been all but forgotten about.
When the Dark Lord had come across her, he’d known she was like no other snake. She’d been highly conversational and had retained much of her human characteristics.
Having never met anyone she could speak with, she had latched onto him, given him a loyalty he had repaid with the most precious thing he could entrust her with, and now, she was gone.
Her final moments of life would undoubtedly have been spent in agony from the curses she’d endured, but it was the final one that had proven to be a mercy to her, yet quite the blow to the Dark Lord.
The killing curse.
He suspected there was something rather poetic for Potter to have used the curse against Nagini, even if he did not understand the significance of what it was he’d done.
Nonetheless, she was gone now, and though he was furious, saddened even, and vengeful, he knew he could not rush to strike back at his foe.
As much as he loathed to admit it, Potter had played a very clever hand, had managed to escape with his most valued visitors, killed his most loyal servant, destroying one of his horcruxes in the process, and had even taken Hogwarts out of his grasp in one masterful stroke.
“Potter,” he whispered, pondering what it was he would do to ensure the young man paid for these transgressions.
For three weeks now, he had been stewing in his anger, his thoughts shifting quickly from one to the next of how he would avenge Nagini, how he would take Hogwarts back, and ultimately, how he would rid himself of Harry Potter.
The boy had become more dangerous than the Dark Lord could’ve comprehended, had come closer to truly harming him than any other, and was undoubtedly still revelling in his victory.
Still, there were questions to be answered that had yet been.
Severus.
From what Pettigrew had revealed, the man had been within Malfoy Manor only moments before Potter had absconded with the prisoners, and neither hide nor hair had been seen of him since.
Either he had helped Potter, willingly or unwillingly and had fled, or something else had come of the man.
Regardless, the Dark Lord would have the truth of the matter from the man himself, but he could find nothing of him, not even through the mark he’d carried.
Either he’d found a way to hide himself well enough, which was not out of the question given just how talented a wizard he was, or he was dead.
Not that such a thought brought any comfort. No, the Dark Lord wanted the honour of tearing the final breath from his lungs for his treachery, whether or not his betrayal had been willing.
Unfortunately, it seemed that would not happen, there would be no definitive answer to what happened to Severus Snape and the part he’d played in Potter’s ploy, not unless the man could be found.
He drummed his fingers irritably on the arm of the chair he was sitting in within what had once been his muggle family’s home.
Nothing had been salvaged from that night; nothing gained, but so much lost, and until he could come up with a suitable course of retribution that would see him take control of the war, he knew he needed to stay his hand for a while.
The Ministry of Magic and media still belonged to him, and soon enough, he would find a way to take the castle back from the young man who’d managed to steal it.
(Break)
“Four hours discussing what should be the correct width of a vial opening,” Orion grumbled irritably, checking through the stack of mail that had arrived in his absence, pushing it aside to take a seat behind his desk.
“Still nothing?”
He shook his head at his wife, but before he could offer her an answer, there was a knock at the door to his study.
Orion did not need to guess who it was who’d come to visit him. She’d been doing so at least three times a day since they’d made their agreement some months prior now.
“Come in, Cassiopeia,” he called.
The young woman did so, and Orion, as he always did, questioned whether or not he’d done the right thing by agreeing to let her travel across the continent for the better part of three months.
His daughter was a young woman now who’d reached her majority. Still, without having received a response from Peverell on the matter, it seemed that the trip may not go ahead, after all, much to Cassiopeia’s consternation.
“He still hasn’t written back, has he?” she asked.
Orion shook his head almost apologetically, though he could not deny that not receiving word from Peverell was something of a relief.
She nodded her understanding, and he frowned at her.
“You know, you would usually question whether or not I had even written to him at all having not received a response this long, like the time you wanted me to write to the owner of Falcons when you were five because you wanted them to sell their Keeper.”
“He was dreadful,” Cassiopeia huffed, “and it doesn’t matter if you didn’t write to him father because I did.”
“You did?”
Cassiopeia nodded unashamedly.
“I didn’t ask him to escort me. I only made him aware of my desire to see the tournament.”
Orion chuckled amusedly at her shrewdness.
Yes, she was a Black through and through.
“I don’t understand why he would ignore both of us,” she murmured. “No one would have the audacity to ignore you, father.”
Orion chuckled once more.
“Harry Peverell is not like anyone else, my dear. He does not fear me, but I like to think I have earned his respect as he has mine.”
Cassiopeia appeared to be confused.
To her, the very idea of someone not being in awe by the name she carried was something she could not comprehend. She had spent her life on a pedestal because of it, protected by the deeds of others who’d come before her.
“Then he can’t be so bright,” she deduced.
Orion shook his head.
“I don’t expect the name Peverell means much to you,” he mused aloud. “You were not told the same stories we were growing up.”
“What stories?”
“Well, the Peverell name is an old name, Cassiopeia, even older than our own. There are tales of them told up and down the country of their deeds, of how making an enemy of one is not wise, and how they have a special relationship with Death itself.”
The young woman snorted, though sobered when she realised that he wasn’t jesting.
“With Death?”
Orion hummed.
“Much like us, they have their own magic they can call upon, and there are written accounts of what they were capable of. I cannot say for certain the truth of them, but there are dozens, and I have looked into Harry Peverell’s eyes, I have gotten a measure of him, and whether or not the stories about his family are true, I saw something in them that I have never seen in others, not even the boldest of braggarts. I cannot quite explain it, it is something you must see for yourself, but I do not believe finding yourself on the wrong side of him would be wise. No, he his affable enough, shrewd and exceptionally talented, but there is something about him that screams of danger, a coldness that seems to linger around him but it is his own.”
Instead of being troubled by what she’d heard, Cassiopeia’s eyes lit up in excitement, and she even grinned in response.
“I think I will send him another letter,” she declared, all but skipping from the room whilst her perplexed father watched her leave.
“Do you think it is wise to trust her with such a man?” his wife asked worriedly.
“I think Harry Peverell might just be the only one who can keep her out of trouble,” Orion sighed. “You know what she is like. She has a way of rubbing people up the wrong way, and in foreign lands surrounded by those who will not care for her name or see it as an accomplishment to best her in some way, she will inevitably get herself into trouble.”
“So, why are you letting her go?”
“Like I could stop her if I wanted to,” Orion chuckled humourlessly. “This way, I have a semblance of control over it, and she will be accompanied by someone who will protect her. Then again, it might just be Peverell who needs protecting from our Cass.”
His wife eyed him for a moment before shaking her head.
“Is this Peverell handsome?” she asked.
Orion frowned at the question.
“I don’t see what that has to do…”
“You know what she is like, Orion. As wonderful a witch she is, and as gifted, she is much too like others in our family who are drawn to powerful, handsome men. For how fiercely independent Cassie is, did you not consider that?”
“You have been married for me too long,” Orion grumbled. “Of course, I considered it.”
“And you do not see a problem with it?”
“Not so much,” Orion answered sombrely. “Cassiopeia will never allow herself to be tied down to one of the fools we choose for her, and already, the offers have been coming in.”
“They have?”
“Since the day she reached her majority. Peverell may not be a pureblood, but his name can and will carry more weight than any other in the years to come. I would feel more at ease with our daughter marrying someone she wishes to rather than the alternative. She is not some compliant mare who will do as she is told, even if that meant being cast out.”
“No, she is not.”
“And I am not saying that anything is promised, far from it, but if there is someone out there who can curb some of that rashness and urge to be a follower within her, I would prefer that to the alternative. Peverell comes from a storied family, he is a good man, and if anything was to come of it, I cannot say that I would be entirely opposed to our families being joined together, and I am not the only one. His name alone would make most forget anything else about him, and yes it may be selfish, but I would rather our two families being tied together than someone else getting their claws into him. He may not have a seat on the Wizengamot, but mark my words, he will be a man of note.”
His wife said nothing for several moments before she stood and placed a kiss on his cheek.
“You always were an ambitious fool,” she chided, “but now I have terms you will agree with.”
“Terms?”
She nodded firmly.
“Before I agree that he can accompany Cassiopeia, you will invite him here for dinner so that I may meet him for myself, and that is non-negotiable, Orion Black.”
She too left the study, and Orion released a deep breath.
Perhaps he had made an error in dragging Peverell into his family affairs, and yet, he could not deny there was something rather amusing about the thought of the young man being all but interrogated by his wife.
That would certainly show him, and yet, Orion was not truly worried for him, not where his wife or the rest of the family were concerned. No, his problems would only begin if he managed to convince the young man to escort his daughter across the continent.
There he would see for himself what it was like to be in the presence of a young, stubborn Black, who was not used to getting no for an answer.
(Break)
He was not a nervous person by nature, and the enormity of this meeting did not change that, though Gellert knew that perhaps it should.
Having spent so many months now living as Percival Graves, who’d been little more than a slightly above average auror before Gellert had assumed his identity, it felt strange to simply be himself, and even stranger that he was meeting such a prolific member of society.
Walton Abernathy was a man who’d climbed the ranks in the MACUSA, had cultivated a reputation of being a talented wizard in his own right, but more so, a politician through and through.
He certainly cut such a figure, and as he took a seat opposite Gellert, the two men said nothing whilst they got the measure of the other.
Evidently, Abernathy saw something intriguing within him, and not just what was, even in the magical world, an almost ethereal outer appearance.
“You have garnered my interest, so speak, Mr Grindelwald. Yes, I know who you are. When I hear of men with such lofty ambitions, I make it my business to know who it is I am meeting with. Of course, if you prove to be foolish, this conversation never happened. So, tell me, what is your vision for our world?”
His tone was almost mocking, and Gellert did not appreciate it.
Still, he expected nothing less from the man, and at the very least, Abernathy had the decency to hear him out rather than dismiss him out of hand.
When he was finished, the man nodded thoughtfully.
“You speak from the heart, and maybe you possess talent, but neither is enough to convince me to back you. I will not invest resources, time, and risk my reputation for such frivolities. No, I need proof that you can change the world, Gellert Grindelwald. I need to see for myself that you are worth what I can give to you.”
“What proof would you like?”
Abernathy leaned back in his chair.
“Action. I need to see action to show me just how dedicated to tis cause you are. If you impress me, you might just get my backing, but only if I am truly impressed. I expect to see something of the likes I never have before. Those are my terms. I look forward to seeing what you are capable of.”
Without another word or even waiting for Gellert to offer a response, Abernathy left, leaving Gellert to ponder just what he could do to prove that he and Albus were worth the investment.
“Are you looking forward to returning to Britain soon?” Gellert asked. “What’s wrong?”
Albus was sporting a thoughtful frown and holding a letter which he offered to Gellert.
He unfurled it to see an unfamiliar but distinctly feminine scrawl.
Dear Albus,
I hope this finds you well, and that life is treating you equally so.
Of course, I received the most wonderful and welcome news that you had been awarded your mastery in Transfiguration. Not that I was truly surprised.
I have been saying since you were in your second year that you could be the youngest ever to achieve it, and here we are only a few years later with you having done so.
I cannot put into words just how proud of you I am, but that does bring me to the reason I have written to you.
I have decided to retire from my post with immediate effect, as has Headmaster Black, who is to be replaced by Armando Dippet. We have discussed the matter, and Armando would be most agreeable if you were to replace me.
It would bring me considerable comfort knowing that it was you taking my place.
If it is of interest to you, I urge you to write to Armando, who is awaiting your response.
Perhaps you may even find time to visit me some time soon.
It truly was a pleasure to treat you, Albus, and hope that your own journey to find your own suitable replacement proves to be much easier than mine, though I have my doubts.
Yours,
Professor Matilda Weasley
Gellert smiled as he finished the letter and handed it back to Albus.
“You earned this,” he said excitedly. “This is incredible news, Albus! It is your dream!”
Albus returned the gesture as he nodded.
“It is, but it means that I will not be around so much.”
Gellert rolled his eyes at him.
“That doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “Our shared dream will still come true, but there is nothing wrong with you pursuing this. Have you written back yet?”
Albus shook his head.
“Then you’d best fetch some parchment and a quill,” Gellert urged. “We can certainly stop off in Britain before heading to watch the tournament.”
“So, you think I should accept the post?”
“You’d be a damned fool if you didn’t! You will be in one of the very best places to shape the minds of the next generation of students whilst doing what it is you love. This is the perfect opportunity for you, for us.”
Albus’s cheeks reddened at their closeness and he nodded.
“I’ll get a quill,” he declared.
Gellert smiled at his retreating form.
He’d begun to fear that Albus was feeling stagnant with merely tutoring children who had little to no passion for his brilliance, but now, he would undoubtedly thrive.
They would undoubtedly thrive, especially when Gellert figured out just how he would impress a certain highly touted member of the MACUSA with their dedication to their vision.
What that was, he wasn’t sure, but already, he had several ideas permeating, ideas that could not be ignored if put into action.
(Break)
“How does it feel being back, Harry?” Ignotus asked from his place on the wall within the Peverell home.
“Strange but not in a bad way,” Harry sighed. “It just feels like I’m here when everything was beginning to go my way with Riddle.”
“Yes, and often, it is better to wait than overstep your advantage. Doing so can be more damaging than beneficial.”
Harry nodded, though he wasn’t convinced.
Regardless, it had become impossible to ignore the pull to return here, and it wasn’t as though he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Ariana again. Right now, however, it seemed he had missed several missives in his absence, and he began sorting through them, recognising who had sent most from their writing.
Seeing that Henry and William Potter had written to him, the first to check in with him, and the latter to invite him to his upcoming wedding in September, he replied to both as a matter of importance before opening the two he’d received from Orion Black.
“What is it?” Cadmus asked curiously.
“Well, the first says there is something he wants to discuss with me of the utmost importance,” he explained. “That come quite a while ago now, and the second is an invite to have dinner with his family.”
It was strange given that the two of them had agreed that meeting on neutral ground in the odd bar come diner they’d played chess in shortly before he returned home.
“Then it must be something that directly affects his family,” Antioch broke in.
Harry nodded as he opened the next letter, this being one of two from the same person he’d not corresponded with.
To Mr Harry Peverell,
You do not know me, nor I you, but my father speaks highly of you and has written to ask a favour pertaining to me.
It is not my place to ask for such a favour, so please, do not accept this letter with any other intention except me sharing my desire with you.
I have dreamed of seeing the duelling tournaments since before I received my wand, and now that I am old enough, I plan on doing so. My father insists that I need a suitable chaperone and has chosen you above all others to serve in that position.
I cannot implore you to accept, but I would see it as a great favour to me if you would consider it.
Cassiopeia Black
“Well, shit,” Harry grumbled. “This cannot be good.”
“What is it, Harry?” Cadmus asked.
Harry held the letter up so that the three brothers could read it, and he did not miss the poorly veiled expressions of amusement when they were done.
“Well, you seem to get on well enough with her back home,” Antioch almost snorted.
“Can you just imagine how much worse she is now?”
The three brothers laughed uproariously, and Harry could only shake his head.
“You’d be doing the Lord Black of all people quite the turn if you were to accept,” Cadmus pointed out, “and being owed a favour from him would be most useful if you ever needed it, and Harry, you might just need it in the future.”
Harry frowned at the man’s reasoning, not because he was wrong, but because he was right.
“At the very least, it would be rude to refuse the invitation to dinner,” Antioch pointed out. “You should keep an open mind about the idea.”
“Open mind?” Harry scoffed. “Cassiopeia Black will one day be one of Grindelwald’s most notorious followers. She’d mad enough as an old woman. Bloody hell, it will be almost like being around a younger Bellatrix,” he added with a grimace.
The three brothers laughed once more, but Harry knew they were right. It would be seen as a slight against Orion Black if he refused to attend, and even more so if the man asked such a favour of him and he didn’t at least give it due consideration.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“It is always your choice, Harry,” Ignotus assured him, “but I urge you to look at the benefits of such an arrangement. I expect there is much you could learn from seeing the duels for yourself, and at worst, you will have a significant ally to call upon.”
Once more, the man was right, and though Harry could think of few things worse than escorting a young Cassiopeia Black across Europe for several weeks, he could not deny that he too was interested in attending the tournament himself.
Still, he could not help but think that Fate, or Death, or both were far too much fun at his expense; a feeling that did not waver as he began penning his reply to Orion Black.