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THE CURSED LINE & BLESSED HEIR
🕑 Added 2024-01-12 17:51:32 +0000 UTCChapter 4- Family Magics
‘MAYHEM ENSURES AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP’
‘THE DARK MARK MAKES AN APPEARANCE’
The victory of Ireland against the Bulgarians in the 422nd Quidditch World Cup final was overshadowed by the mayhem that broke out after the match.
Around midnight, after the celebrations of the World Cup, it was reported that a large group of masked assailants started hurling curses upon the campsites, hosting various witches and wizards from several countries. The men leading the charge followed similar tactics employed by the followers of the Dark Lord Voldemort, commonly known as Death Eaters.
Fifteen wizards and six witches have been declared dead, all muggle-borns, which indicates similar patterns from the dark times that plagued the country almost two decades ago. The instigators have not been found at the scene despite the Aurors trying hard to find the people responsible for the mess, but there has been no news regarding those who had fled the scene.
The worrying issue is the appearance of the dark mark in the sky above the campsite. The dreaded symbol of the Dark Lord that caused nightmares in the public’s life. The mark's appearance raises questions about what the reason truly was. Was this a message? Was it some form of scare tactic employed by a new group posing as the Death Eaters? Or is it something that has to do with You-Know-Who?
The Dark Lord was killed by the Boy- Who- Lived, Harry Potter, thirteen years ago, which was confirmed by multiple reliable sources. If that is the case, what happened all those years ago? Were we led to believe something false? Is there any aspect of truth to what we were forced to think? Is the Dark Lord still alive? Is it a copycat trying to brew trouble?
Whoever the culprits are should be brought to justice, and let us hope that the efficient members of our Wizengamot and the Auror department look into this matter as a priority.
He threw the newspaper onto the table, digging into his breakfast as he did so. Despite Sirius’s insistence, he did not agree to attend the Quidditch World Cup. He was uninterested in following the match and decided to stay at Grimmauld.
Now that he thought about it, this decision favoured him significantly compared to the others in his last three years at Hogwarts. After seeing the newspaper, though, he started worrying. He knew that Voldemort was alive. He had known that from the first year at Hogwarts. Now, the situation was picking up pace.
He was not idle. He had known about the possibility, but hearing about his Grandfather propelled him to start working on himself. He had begun practising magic diligently. Sirius had asked Kreacher to clear up the basement and convert it into a training room where Harry would spend most of the day honing his skills.
Then there was an unlikely person in the house. He had yet to comprehend the former Mrs Malfoy staying with them. He had not seen much of the woman, though that can be attributed to his spending most of his time in the basement, but when he did see her during meals, he was yet to digest that Draco’s mother was staying with them.
The woman kept to herself. She would spend the day in the sitting room, engrossed in several books. If not, she would be in her room. Both Sirius and Harry had let the woman to herself, not trying to bother the woman. Sirius would not remain in the same room as the woman if he could help. He had withdrawn into himself ever since Narcissa had posed the question that had rattled him. The cheerful man he had been accustomed to had been missing for some time.
Harry had been curious as to what the man would reply with. He would never understand what it was all about. He knew by now that the House Black was messed up and the people in the family were mental, too. But hearing Narcissa snap at Sirius was confusing. Why did Sirius run away, abandoning his duty? He will give the man all the time in the world. He expected an answer, though. If what she said was true, the woman deserved an answer, and he would expect nothing less than straight answers from Sirius.
Narcissa chose that moment to make an entrance. She sat down at the other end and picked up a plate. “Morning.” Harry greeted the woman, who nodded back politely. “Morning, Mr Potter.”
“Harry.” He corrected. “Harry would be fine. No need for that every time.”
The woman smiled gently as she dug into her breakfast. Harry pushed the newspaper towards the woman, knowing she would ask for it anyway. Narcissa’s fork dropped onto her plate as she witnessed the headlines. She grabbed the paper and coursed through the news with fine detail.
“Anything of interest?” Harry questioned despite knowing what caught her interest. “So they did manage to pull it off.” She muttered, not surprised by the news. Now, that was interesting.
“You knew about this?” He questioned. The woman nodded. “I did. Lucius had been planning something for the Quidditch World Cup. Or rather, planning something specific involving you.”
Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Me?” The woman hummed. “He was interested in your appearance at the World Cup. He was questioning Draco about that, and he even threw a warning at Draco. Lucius would never jest when it came to the Dark Lord.”
Harry frowned. What did the man want with him? With every passing moment, he was convinced that his decision not to go to the match was the best thing he had done recently.
“Do you have any idea why?” Harry questioned, nodding at her flat look. “I know, I know. Besides the apparent reason of a babbling version of me damaging his ego, I meant.”
The corners of her lips twitched upwards as she shook her head. “No, sorry. But there can only be one reason for it now, should it not?”
“And in all his wisdom, your son assured them I would attend the World Cup?” She nodded. “He would be right,” Harry muttered. “Has your son done nothing but spy on me in his three years at Hogwarts? How is that guy in Slytherin?” He questioned. “I hear they are ambitious and cunning. I don’t know about the latter, but did he have any ambition?”
“For as long as he could speak, he has been firmly in the hands of Lucius and his machinations. It has always been that way. I was not required anymore after he began walking and talking. The man’s beliefs and practices are his.”
Harry shook his head. “What would he learn from the man? How to terrorise a school full of children with a dark artefact? How to throw money around and spend the rest of his life scheming and complaining?”
He paused as he watched the woman flush in shame, looking away. “Sorry.” He apologised, feeling sorry for the woman. “I overstepped my bounds.”
“You did.” The woman answered with a curt nod. “But you did not lie, did you?”
The two dug into their breakfast without a word. A few tense minutes later, Harry stood up, left the table, and walked towards the door. He paused as he was about to exit the dining room and turned back.
“I am sorry.” Narcissa faced him once again. “For what it’s worth, you deserved much, much better. I can’t begin to understand what you faced and your situation all these years, but I repeat it. You deserve much better. You deserved someone better than him. You could have had your pick of men and had to marry him. It is nothing but bygones, but it had to be said.”
The woman was in tears as she smiled genuinely at Harry. She watched him leave the room, and her thoughts returned to her son. The boys were the same age, yet they had such contrasting attributes. He had kept aside his differences with Lucius and Draco and had treated her with nothing but respect. He was far from judgemental, which came as a surprise. He held no ill will against her despite the trouble Lucius put him and his friends through in the second year. And he was polite. When Draco said he was a glory hunter, this was not the Harry Potter she expected to meet. Once again, she could not help but feel ashamed about how she raised her son.
“Why could you not try and be more like him, Draco?” She whispered sadly as she got up and left the room.
BREAK
“Good thing you decided to ignore my offer, Harry,” Sirius grumbled as he threw the paper aside. “You think it might be him?” Harry nodded. “No doubt.” He agreed. “Narcissa confirmed as such. Lucius Malfoy was apparently very invested in me being present at the World Cup.”
“Bastard,” Sirius grumbled as he sat down across from Harry. “I still never understood why I listened to Dumbledore and decided to choose a more sensible path. I should have killed that bastard when I had the chance.”
“How long do you plan on avoiding her?” He questioned. “You should speak up, Sirius. There is no point in dwelling on the past. I am certain you have reasons for your decisions, but she deserves an answer. You deserve closure. It will do the both of you a lot of good if you speak up.”
“Harry…” Harry shook his head, holding up his hands. “I am not saying that you should talk immediately.” He soothed the man. “Take your time, but don’t keep running. It will never be over if you do.”
“No, I know.” Sirius agreed. “I am not looking to run. It’s just that…” Harry nodded. “I know.” He stopped the man from speaking further. “Take your time.”
“On that note, I better step up with my practice.” He muttered. “Things might get bad, Sirius. And very quickly, as well.”
“How about a duel?” Sirius questioned. “I would like to see what you have been up to in the basement. Besides,” He grinned. “I still owe you for the punch from the last time.”
“You are on, old man,” Harry smirked as he left the room and moved towards the basement downstairs.
“Nasty halfblood besmirching the house of the Blacks. My poor mistress…”
“Oh, shut up for Merlin's sake!” Harry grumbled at the squeaky small house elf. The elf glared hatefully at the young man, muttering away, wringing his fingers. The damn thing had gone insane spending time with that stupid portrait of Walburga. Sirius always told him he was loyal to his mother, but Harry had a very different notion regarding the house elves. How could he not after meeting Dobby?
His thoughts strayed back to the previous day's events: the Dark Mark, Narcissa’s information, and the Death Eaters. Harry had a bad feeling about the events. He could not shake away the feeling that the coming days would be challenging.
“Ready?” He heard Sirius walk into the basement, his wand in his hands. “Won’t be taking it easy on you.” Harry nodded. “I would expect nothing less than your best.”
Sirius didn’t wait for another word as he fired spells at an alarming pace. Harry was off as he dodged spells that Sirius sent his way. He made use of his reflexes honed through hours of Quidditch practice. Sirius smirked as he continued to cast.
"Quick." He acknowledged. "Good. But what will you do when facing multiple spells of the same intensity?"
And just like that, Sirius's hands were in a blur as spells rained down on Harry, each one quicker than the previous.
Harry had to react quickly. A blue shield materialised in front of Harry, shielding him from the immediate onslaught of the man, his first batch of spells slamming into the barrier with a lot of power.
'He is not holding back.' Harry thought as he held the shield in place.
"You are going to drain yourself out, Harry," Sirius warned above the noise his spells were making.
"Not if I am mobile." He shot back, and the shield and Harry disappeared from view.
"Good." Sirius praised. "But it is of no use against a dog animagus." He fired a spell to his left, and Harry had to jump away from the path of the spell, his visage now visible to the man. Sirius did not relent. He kept up the stunners raining down on Harry, who had his shield back up.
Harry waited with his shield for a few more seconds, knowing that the man would have to slow down for a few moments before he could continue with the same rhythm. Multiple spells are taxing. They take something out of the wizard or witch, casting them ever so slightly, which invariably leads to a decrease in the speed and power of the castor. It is a slight difference, but if observed correctly, it can benefit the person on the receiving end.
Just like he had thought, the speed of Sirius’s spells decreased for a fraction, which Harry seized. He slashed his wand horizontally, and a wide beam of translucent blue light cut through the distance between Harry and Sirius. Sirius had to drop his attack hastily, conjuring a shield similar to what Harry had been using for some time now.
The beam battered into the shield, pushing the man back a few feet. Harry took advantage of the lapse in Sirius’s momentum as he began bombarding the man with his spells.
“Bombarda!” Harry roared as a purple spell left his wand, zooming towards Sirius and colliding into the man’s shield, which held fort before it cracked slowly under the onslaught before cracking open completely, exposing the man.
Sirius stared at Harry in surprise for a few moments and grinned. “Very good.” He was off again in a flash, and this time, the two began moving away from their spots, circling away from each other as Harry ducked a blasting hex and jumped out from a cutting curse aimed at his gut.
Harry sent his reply, a concussion hex at a blistering speed that Sirius had to avoid narrowly. Only to hiss in pain as a cutting curse grazed his left thigh. He ignored the pain and muttered something, pointing his wand at the ground. Harry frowned in confusion, and his eyes widened as the ground trembled slightly before giving way under the young man’s feet.
Harry lost his footing, his left foot sinking into the now-formed hole in the floor of the basement. The small gap was what Sirius needed to steady himself as Harry was instantly pushed to defend as Sirius began digging deep into his arsenal.
The spell range changed from basic non-lethal to advanced and dangerous. Sirius sent three black spells racing towards Harry, which he had to defend by conjuring a solid block of wood.
The next second, Harry was surrounded by black fog around him. He tried hard to dispel it, but it thickened the air around him. He began feeling lightheaded, and his breathing became erratic.
“And dead.” He vaguely heard Sirius’s voice when the air around him cleared. He shook his head, trying to shake away the cobwebs in his head. Harry watched as Sirius’s face came into view, smiling.
“Your spells are tough to face, Harry. They are power-packed. I did not expect such raw power at your age. I know for a fact that many older witches and wizards would struggle with only the intensity aspect of your spells alone. But that is when family spells come into the picture.” Harry dropped down onto the floor and stretched out his legs.
“Family spells?” Sirius nodded. “I am sorry. I should have let you know about it long back.” He apologised. “Family spells are closely guarded spells that will always remain within a family's knowledge. They are the spells that are preferential.” He explained.
“Every witch and wizard has an affinity to specific spells. Yes, some wizards and witches have no weakness. Your Grandfather, my Grandfather, my cousin Bellatrix, Albus, Grindelwald and Voldemort are a few of those who have never had a weakness.”
“Bellatrix?” Harry questioned. “Lestrange?” Sirius nodded. “Don’t let the fact that she is in Azkaban tell you otherwise. Bellatrix Lestrange is the most talented and powerful witch of our generation. No one could hold a candle to what she was able to do. It was that Bellatrix Black that the Dark Lord recruited through the Lestrange family. We will talk about her another day.” Harry nodded.
“But coming back to family spells, they are created by the family. Closely guarded for years together, those spells are your heritage. You and your blood will be the only ones that can access the Potter family magic. Sure, you can teach family magic. It is necessary if your wife wants to learn it. But let me tell you, it might never work. So, the possibility of family magics straying out of the bloodline is impossible.”
“The Black fog is one of those spells that belong to my family. It is not as much a simple black fog but grows thicker and thicker, and you will find breathing difficult. Yes, you can fight those spells, but how will you fight spells when you are unaware of what they do? That is what makes family spells dangerous. Sure, there are ways you could have gotten out of the fog, but I had all the time in the world to kill you. By the time you stepped out of that fog, I might have hacked a hand of yours, a leg or even your head.”
Harry could understand the magnitude and the power unknown spells held. Sirius was right. The element of surprise was a powerful weapon in a fight.
“Battling against the element of surprise is the skill you need most. Albus, Grindelwald, Voldemort, Uncle Charlus, my Grandfather, and Bellatrix were all highly capable of fighting out of such situations.”
“You are well above your age group regarding magical abilities. But there is still a long way to go. In a few years, mind you, just a few years, there will be nobody holding a candle to your abilities.”
Harry didn’t know what to say. He was touched by the confidence the man possessed in his abilities. He did not know if he would be in pole position, nor did he have any intention to, but he was sure he needed to be the best version of himself to deal with Voldemort.
“Do you know where I can learn my family's magic?” He questioned. He was curious to know what his family's magic entailed. The heritage part of the explanation was what appealed to Harry. For somebody not considered a family member by the Dursleys, anything that pertained to the Potter family was close to his heart. The name provided an identity to him. He was who he was because of his name. The Boy Who Lived aside, judging by the words of Madam Pomfrey, he knew that his being the Potter heir itself would have been enormous.
Sirius shook his head apologetically. “It is not like that. Yes, the Family Magic is a book. But not an ordinary one. The magic imbued in it is a judgment. There is a way to access your family magic. How, nobody knows, but the family magic judges you. How does it judge you? I have no idea. I only know that you cannot cheat it. Nothing can be hidden from the magic. Only when you are deemed eligible will you be able to learn the magic in its pages. Just being of the same blood is not enough. Many witches and wizards, despite being blood, would be rejected if the magic found you faulty.
“As to where to find your Grimoire, I have no idea.” Harry could not help but feel disappointed. After everything Sirius told him about Family magic, the last part of it was bitter. He would not have minded if the man had not told him about it, but now that he did, he was eager to know more about it.
At the same time, he could not help but be relieved about the situation. What if he was judged unworthy? If that would happen, he knew it would just be demoralising.
“Don’t worry about it. You will find it when the time is right.” He smiled. “In the meantime, why don’t you follow me?” Harry followed Sirius out of the basement, wondering where he was being taken. Sirius led him upstairs and towards the passage that held both their rooms.
They entered Sirius’s room, and he closed the door behind him. Harry looked around the room. He was here for the first time since his stay in Grimmauld. The room was different compared to the rest of the house. The decor was brighter and similar to the familiar Gryffindor colours he had been accustomed to seeing at Hogwarts. It was a vast room. Spacious with a large bed with a carved headboard.
A lot of pictures adorned the wall across from the bed. Harry had to hide a smile as he noticed a picture of women in muggle bikinis. He could imagine the conversation if Sirius’s mother had seen that.
“Oh, she did see it.” Harry faced the man who smirked. “She tried everything she could to throw tantrums, but I wouldn’t budge. This room was my domain in the house.”
Harry looked towards the bedside, and he saw a photo. He walked closer to the image and identified four people in the picture. Sirius, his eyes dancing with mischief, his hair falling in waves until his neck. He looked younger and full of life—a far cry from the man he saw now.
Next to him, on either side, were his parents. It was their wedding photograph, and he couldn’t help but smile. They were so happy amidst an ongoing war, and they had no care for the rest of the world at that moment.
Harry placed the picture back and turned back to Sirius. He was watching Harry’s actions and smiled sadly. “That man loved her to death.” He said as Harry turned back to look at the picture. “He had always danced around her since we stepped foot into Hogwarts. I had never imagined it would lead to this down the path. I always thought it was some sort of obsession with a pretty girl. It is a normal phase for every teenager where he is attracted to a cute girl and imagines a future with her.”
“We didn’t think much of it. He was the heir to a powerful family, and his wedding was not supposed to be a simple issue. Never would we imagine that Lily would be marrying James. Yes, it had to do with her being a muggle-born, too.”
“Anyway, we will have all the time in the world to talk about them. I will make sure you know everything I know about your parents. That is a promise.” He swore. “Now, I think I have something to show you.”
Sirius walked across the room next to a bookshelf where Harry made out a number of books arranged together. He watched curiously as Sirius pulled a book out of its place ever so slightly and continued doing so for several books irregularly. It felt like some sort of pattern.
“In the Black family, the Grimoire is placed in our residence. But where, is left to the Lord of the family? He can choose where to place the family’s secrets. Every Lord is made aware of the previous position of the Grimoire. He can let it be or change its place to keep it from reaching into the other hands. It was placed in the Lord’s study with special protections. It had been the same for centuries until that pleasant woman in the portrait downstairs decided to grace this family with her presence. If that had fallen into her hands…” Harry did not need Sirius to finish his words to understand what he meant.
Sirius tapped the underside of the shelf with the ring that adorned his finger. A hole opened up from across the room in the wall, gradually increasing in size. A small shelf was pushed out of the hole, on top of which lay a book. Sirius walked across the room and laid his palm on the book. The book seemed worse for wear. It seemed like it would disintegrate if a feather fell on it.
Harry was surprised when a dull light surrounded the palm that Sirius placed on the book. Sirius removed his palm and picked up the book. “Never knew what happens if somebody other than the Blacks ever touched this book,” Sirius explained.
“I have heard about a few enchantments to protect the book. That light checks if the person is a Black. If not…” Sirius trailed off, and Harry didn’t need the man to finish the statement to know what he was trying to convey.
“Go on.” Sirius nodded towards the book. “Take it.” Harry frowned in confusion as the man held the book forward. “Are you joking?” Harry questioned, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You are my blood, Harry,” Sirius replied. “You are more than eligible to read this.” He said, placing the book into Harry’s hand. Harry observed the worn-out book that Sirius had placed on his hand. “Come on. Place your palm on the cover.”
Harry stared at the man, who gave an encouraging nod. He looked down at the book that was in his hands. He decided to go ahead and do as Sirius instructed and placed his right palm on top of the book.
Nothing happened at first. Harry tried once again and pressed his palm on top of the book. Again, he didn’t see any light or reaction from the Grimoire. He looked back up at his Godfather and could see he was also confused. Just when he decided to remove his hand and place the book down, he felt some heat beneath his palm.
He felt a sharp prick against his palm, jerking slightly as he felt some pain. “Does it hurt?” Harry questioned Sirius, who frowned. “Hurt?”
“It felt like a prick, and I did feel some pain.” As he said as, he felt something liquid in his palm. “And I am pretty sure I am bleeding.” Sirius looked closely; his wand lit up as he examined Harry’s palm.
“Are you sure I could touch the book, Sirius?” Harry questioned, now getting worried as he felt himself bleeding. “No. I don’t think the book is harming you. You are of Black blood, and the book will know.”
Harry and Sirius watched as a warm glow, similar to the one he had observed earlier, surrounded Harry’s palm, and he felt his pain receding swiftly.
“There you go!” Sirius exclaimed in relief. “I think the direct glow is only when the Lord of the family handles the book. The rest of the kin, I think, must pass an identity test, and the blood must be to determine if you are truly a Black.”
Harry lifted his palm off the book cover and checked for blood stains. He found none. The wound on his palm was still recognisable, but it was not bleeding and had not stained the Grimoire. Sirius was right in his reasoning.
Harry turned the book's first page and read two words in bold letters: an intrinsic pattern adorning most of the parchment above the words. He had seen the symbol decorated over most of the house's walls. The crest of the Black family.
‘Toujours Pur.’ He muttered, trailing a finger over the words on the page. ‘Always pure.’ He remembered what Sirius had explained. True to their motto, the Black family prided themselves on their blood status more than anything else. Walburga makes sure to let her dislike be known even though the woman is a damn portrait.
“I wanted to let you use it eventually. But you should be learning more. If the newspaper was any indication, you need to keep going faster."
"I don't know how you can find your grimoire or where to find it. The best thing I can do right now is give that to you." Harry nodded his understanding. He was happy that he could depend on something more than the usual that he would find around Hogwarts. He was still disappointed that the Potter family grimoire would be unavailable, but this was a start.
“Keep it with you,” Sirius instructed as the raised platform disappeared from view. “You will need it. It has no use sitting here.” Harry nodded as he closed the book and tucked it under his arm.
“You should visit Gringotts, Harry,” Sirius said as they left his room. “You should get to know the status of the Potter vaults and any other information you need. I think you might find out more about the whereabouts of the Potter Grimoire or your family magic. Those vaults are not compromisable.”
“I can give you one instance of a compromise.” Harry snorted as he narrated the robbery from his first year. When he had finished, he didn’t expect the man to chuckle.
“The Gringotts bank situation is more complicated than you realise, Harry. The entire existence of the Gringotts Bank is based on the existence of the noble families of Britain. Our vaults being present in the bank is what makes them relevant. If word ever goes out that one of the big vaults has been compromised, that is the end of Gringotts and hundreds of employees.”
“I guess it was an attempt and nothing more,” Sirius assured. “Let me tell you, Gringotts gets a lot of such attempts regularly. None have been successful.”
“Tell you what. Tomorrow, we will go and visit the bank. You can check on your finances and mine when you are there. See if anything related to your Grimoire or if any information regarding the Potter family is available.”
Harry nodded as he walked towards his room, glancing at the Grimoire again. This was a blessing in disguise. He was nowhere near able enough to fight adult wizards. Not until they are fighting him alone, and he could not gauge how much difficulty he would face against many such opponents who have similar aces up their sleeves.
He had no idea what the book contained, nor was he sure he could use it. Sirius pointed out that the magic conducted a test to determine one’s eligibility. If he was eligible, well and good. If he were not, he would be missing out on one of the most powerful weapons of magical Britain. The knowledge and power of the infamous Blacks.
BREAK-
“Crucio!” The baby's voice squeaked out, and Barty fell, screaming in agony. “Fool!” The voice spat. “What was the necessity of your actions?” The downed man, twitching pathetically on the floor, whimpered as he shakily sat up. His eyes were shaking with fear, and Lord Voldemort took pleasure in the expression on the man’s face.
“I had planned things, and you had one job to do. Follow it to the point.” The Dark Lord continued his stare, making it difficult for the man to look into his eyes. “When a plan has been employed, the basic duty is to shut up and follow the plan. Not improvise.”
“We improvise only when things would go wrong. And yesterday, Barty, things did not go wrong.”
“M…my lord…” The Dark Lord glared at the man, who went quiet. “Let me finish.”
“Yesterday, we were supposed to get Potter.” He continued. “We didn’t. For some reason, he failed to show up as we had expected. That meant that we abandon our plans and move on. But no. You and your stupidity have now cost me.” The Dark Lord looked to his right to see Lucius Malfoy bowing down, looking worse for wear.
“Lucius had to plan the attacks after the boy had been found. Had I got my hands on the boy, it would have played right into our plans. Luicus’s attacks would have been the perfect message. But the fool carried out the attacks for no reason.” He glared at the blonde, who dared not meet his eyes.
“I might let that go.” He muttered, turning back to face Barty. “But what I can’t let go of is your actions. I wanted to remain in the shadows until I got my body back. How do you expect me to use myself fully in this body?”
“Had you done this after I completed my ritual, you would not have been in this situation. Now, you have alerted the wrong people.” He grumbled. “I wouldn’t put it past Dumbledore to know I am still alive. But by now, many would have guessed that the attacks are linked back to me.”
“The mark. The mark was unnecessary. What job did you have at the stadium, Barty?” The Dark Lord questioned. “Did I not clarify that you were not supposed to stay home? What compelled you to cross my orders?”
Barty failed to provide an answer and chose to remain silent. “We play a game of chess, Barty. One wrong move, and it will prove to be very costly. Power can only get you so far. Despite his importance, the king has the most limited arsenal on the board. In the game, he is just a glorified pawn. The majority of the share in his victory is due to his support from the rest of the pieces. But when I needed you the most, you messed up.”
“I am sorry, my lord,” Barty replied, finding his voice back. “I will redeem myself. This won’t be happening again.”
The Dark Lord nodded satisfactorily. “See that it doesn’t, Barty.” He said. “I have been forgiving. The next time you manage to mess up, I will not be nice.”
Barty nodded readily, a sigh of relief escaping his lips when another cruciatus didn’t come.
“Here is what you will do.” The Dark Lord began by explaining his plans going forward to a determined Barty, who listened intently.
BREAK-
“Don’t worry yourself too much,” Sirius assured Harry as they approached the majestic building of the Gringotts Bank. After yesterday’s discussion, Harry and Sirius decided they would not put it off for long.
“They won’t question my presence in the bank. Despite being dependent on us to run their banks, they are still independent. They have their own rules, and the Ministry or any other Wizarding institution should not interfere in how they run things. I can announce myself standing within the gates of the Gringotts, and nobody can touch me.”
They made it into the building, passing by the number of guards standing opposite to each other, sharp blades in their hands. “Why do they keep those blades?” Harry questioned as they continued deeper into the bank. Sirius shook his head, a snort escaping him.
“Believe me, I have asked the same question never to get any answer from any source. They have held those blades for centuries. At least some of them are two or three centuries old.”
That came as a shock to Harry. He looked around, observing the guards. They were barely over three feet tall. He will never understand how they carry those blades around with small strides.
“Don’t be fooled by the lot,” Sirius warned, breaking him from his observation. “The damn creatures might seem weak and small, but they are born warriors. Fighting is in their blood. Never mess with a goblin, especially in their territory.”
The two men arrived at a bigger room bustling with activity, with many wizards and witches standing in front of the counters, waiting for their turns to finish their jobs.
“Anything about our families, you approach Bearclaw.” He pointed at one of the empty counters where an aged goblin was seated, lost in his work. Unlike the many other goblins, Harry could make out that the goblin was very old. There was an air around him that indicated his wisdom.
“I once heard from my Grandfather that he has been in charge of the older vaults of the pureblood families for at least five centuries. I have no idea how true that is, but I think he was not lying.”
As Harry approached the counter, he was vaguely aware of the whisperings and mutterings he was pre-accustomed to over his years at Hogwarts. It was always recurring, and now that he was used to it, he had learned to ignore it. He had guessed by now that there was no way it would stop anytime soon.
“Good afternoon.” Harry greeted as he stood in front of the Goblin. He expected a greeting in return, but the Goblin didn’t even look up from whatever he was doing.
“Excuse me?” Harry tried again to shake the man from his work, but the goblin didn't respond.
Despite the wave of annoyance that threatened to spill out, Harry squashed it down and waited for the goblin to respond. Harry expected Sirus to cut in and speak out, but Sirius also remained quiet. He faced the man questioningly, only to receive a shrug but nothing other than that.
Harry decided to wait, and he did for the next ten minutes. He was aware of the gaze of many on himself. After ten minutes, Harry felt his annoyance flare considerably. It was not the waiting part that was the issue. It was the fact that the goblin didn’t even bother looking up and telling him to his face that he was busy.
Harry felt the urge to snap, but another part of his mind forbade him from lashing out. He remembered Sirius’s words about the bank's functioning during their discussion from the previous day, and Harry hummed thoughtfully.
“You were not accurate in your description of the bank,” Harry said, ensuring he was being heard. “Did you not tell me that the bank runs on the finances of ancient families?” Sirius frowned in confusion but played along at Harry’s subtle nod.
“It is run on the presence and financial strength of the ancient families of the Wizarding World. Their assets are held in various vaults, and the rest of Wizarding Britain's transactions are run through that money. Potters, Blacks, Lestranges, Malfoys, Notts, Yaxleys, Rosier, Rookwoods, Crouchs, Parkinsons, Carrows and many of the ancient families of Britain have their assets stored in the bank, and it is that money that would be circulated amongst the public while the assets in your vaults accumulate interests.”
“The exact functioning of a common muggle bank.” Harry cut in. “There is no difference between a common muggle bank and Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank. All they do is circulate my money in the bank, and now they don’t have the courtesy to address me.”
“I am pretty sure that I am talking to the highest-ranking employee of this bank?” Sirius nodded.
“I would like to pull out my assets.”
The different counters bustling with activity halted at Harry’s announcement as every eye was on him. Harry had his eyes only on the Goblin, who was lost in his job, and he could see that he had got his attention.
“Took you long enough,” Harry muttered as the aged goblin finally looked up from his work.
“Yeah, you can get back to ignoring me. Make sure all my assets are liberated from your vaults.”
“Sorry?” The goblin questioned. Harry didn’t bother talking as he turned around to leave. He spared one last glance around the bank and turned back to Sirius.
“Make sure everything that is mine is returned, John.” He nodded slyly at Sirius. Sirius, who was watching the entire thing silently, grinned. “Why not add the Black family assets as well?”
Harry frowned, and so did the goblin. “You can pull the Black assets while you are at it. You are also the heir to the Black family, and instead of your Godfather, who is currently otherwise occupied, you, as the family's heir, can make decisions concerning the family.”
This was news to Harry. Sirius had casually ignored to inform Harry of his being the Black heir. He was genuinely confused about this decision of the man. Sirius was relatively young and still possessed the chance at a family, after Harry cleared his name, of course. He would not mull over that too much. Sirius would explain.
The aged goblin sized Harry up and down, a small smile adorning his face. Harry left, not looking back, leaving Sirius behind to deal with anything that might happen because of his actions. He needed to do whatever he did. It felt the right thing to do, and he was glad he did it. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but he felt satisfaction surge through him as with the different events that took place recently. The dressing down of Lucius Malfoy in the general public, slapping Draco Malfoy on the train, and the argument with Ron and Hermione.
Harry stepped out of Gringoots, very much aware that he was responsible for a ruckus in the bank. In his defence, the goblin asked for it. He had been very patient while waiting for a response, only to get nothing, and that had only intensified his anger.
He walked away from the front of the bank and began moving into the alley, looking around as he did so. He had been familiar with Diagon Alley by now, having spent his time here during the beginning of his previous Hogwarts year, where he took full liberty to explore the place.
“Same old Diagon Alley.” It was no different from what he had managed to see the last time he was here. As he ventured towards a familiar shop.
‘OLLIVANDERS’. He wondered what the man was up to. The eccentric man had made an impression on Harry, not to mention the science behind wand lore, which seemed very interesting. He had his questions regarding his wand and Dumbledore’s question. Who better to ask than Ollivander, the man who is a premier wand maker in the magical community?
As he was about to make his way towards the shop, the door opened, and Ollivander stepped out, his eyes shining brightly as he rubbed his palms together. The man smiled softly as he identified Harry.
“Mr Potter?” Harry nodded. “Hello, Mr Ollivander. How are you, sir?” The old man shook his head. “Same old, same old.” The man laughed, shaking hands with the young man.
“It seems like you were looking for me, Mr Potter?” The man questioned, his gaze one of interest as he regarded Harry. “Something seems to be the matter.”
Harry voiced his agreement. “And could I guess that pertains to your wand?”
Ollivander motioned the young man to follow him inside his shop. Rows on top of rows of wands were piled up in the store, waiting for their eventual partners. He could not help but remember his first day in the store when he had been here with Hagrid.
He could not make head or tail of that day until he woke up and checked for all the items bought on his tour; he was convinced he was not dreaming. The choosing of the wand was what kept him excited. As he had read in a few story tales, a wand would be given to him. A wand that can do actual magic.
Harry smiled. He was not the same boy anymore. Magic, which was supposed to be a figment of his imagination, a tale read in children’s books, was now an integral part of his life. Now, he could not begin to imagine a day without magic.
“I rarely get a customer visiting me back, Mr Potter. A witch or wizard never returns to my shop once they get their wands. On a rare occasion or two, when it breaks during an emergency or is lost indefinitely, I will never have a witch or wizard back asking for a wand. And with good reason.” He explained.
“The primary wand will always be the best-suited wand. The wand, Mr Potter, is what chooses the wizard. It is always the wand and not the other way around. Hence, the attachment. The wand is sentient. A core part of your life. The moment a wand chooses a wizard, it bonds with him. It becomes a part of him.”
“Losing a part of you is painful.” He continued. “And this applies to the relationship you share with your wand. The moment the relationship between a wand and its partner dies, his magic starts dying.”
Whatever Harry was expecting, this was not it. He could not hide the shock at hearing the elderly man’s words.
“Let me put it forth better,” Ollivander cut in immediately as he noticed the look of horror on the boy’s face. “You never feel it. The connection is a very small detail and is nearly impossible to see. But is always there. That is how I chose wands for every wizard or witch. Like many before me, I am blessed with the ability to see that connection. It is how I know just what to look for.”
“I have my job cut out for me, Mr Potter.” He said. “I should never be wrong. I cannot afford to be wrong. I have never been wrong about a wand and its partner all my life, and I have not tried to find out what happens if I fail.”
“When I say your magic dies, I mean it. Make no mistake, this is not a phrase I am using.” He warned. “Your magic begins to grow weaker by the day. Sure, you will never notice it. Nobody will, but it does happen.”
“A secondary wand will never work the same as a primary. It will never be as good as the first one.”
Harry couldn’t push aside a sinking feeling as he heard the man speak. Everything he wanted to know was answered by the man and without asking.
“Secondary wands are, in nature, second place. They are a second bet to your character, power, and development as a wizard. The more powerful the wizard is, the more powerful your spells will be. That will not change, but you can never express yourself completely with your second wand.”
The man frowned as he observed Harry’s face closely. “Judging by your expression, I think something has happened to your wand?” Harry nodded demurely as he recollected his version of losing his wand.
“Let me ask you a question.” Ollivander cut in. “What are you using in place of your old wand?”
Harry retrieved the wand from Dumbledore and held it out for the man to see. “How did you come by this?”
“Well…” He didn’t know if the Headmaster would be okay with him talking about that day. “Worry not, Mr Potter,” Ollivander assured the young man and smiled. “I know that Albus previously used this wand. And I also know that you have not obtained it without his knowledge.”
“I disarmed this wand out of the Headmaster’s hands.” The man appeared to be shocked by Harry’s words. “Disarmed?” The boy nodded. “With your wand?”
Harry shook his head and raised his palm. “Lumos.” A ball of white light formed on the tip of Harry’s index finger, surprising the aged wandmaker. “I used my hand.”
“Wandless magic?” Ollivander voiced his surprise. “The form has been dead for decades. I haven’t heard of somebody being able to use a proficient amount of wandless magic in recent times, barring one or two.”
“How good are you with the form?” The man questioned after a few moments of silence where he was lost in thought. “What are your limits? What is the level you can keep up without a wand?”
Harry thought for a while. To date, he had not faced any trouble casting spells. Anything he could do with a wand, he could do without one as well. He didn’t know how to classify his spell ability, but if he could do a patronus, he could pull off most spells without any problem.
Harry conveyed the same to the wandmaker, and Ollivander nodded in satisfaction.
“Trust me, Mr Potter. Your wand changing would not affect your magic. You can change wands all your life, and it will equate to nothing. That is a blessing you have there, Mr Potter.” The man whispered. “Not everybody will have the advantage of wandless ability.”
Harry lowered his head, looking at the recently acquired wand. Should he ask the man about it? Dumbledore had been tight-lipped about the wand. He was not willing to talk about it directly. He didn’t know if it was one of his games, but he would keep it for himself for now. There was no need for anybody to know about it.
“If you don’t want to talk, it is fine, Mr Potter. I understand that people hold secrets they would always be apprehensive to reveal, and I must know my place and respect your wishes. When you want to talk about it, you will always be able to find me here.”
“Let me ask you one thing, though,” he stepped away from behind his counter and approached him. “Can I see the wand?” He held out his hand, asking for the wand, and Harry complied albeit hesitantly. A voice somewhere in the background was not okay with the suggestion. One part of his head was completely against the idea of parting with the wand. He had to ignore the urge and lend the man his wand.
“Hm…” The man hummed as he regarded the wand closely, whispering things to himself. He ran his finger over the wand's length, nodding in satisfaction.
“Unbelievable. Unbelievable. Thestral hair as the material.” He muttered. “It can’t be. Can it?”
Harry, who was quiet for some time, watching the man closely, couldn’t fight the inner voice that urged him to take it back. Harry requested the man to return the wand, but he was lost in his thoughts, observing the wand closely.
“Mr Ollivander. Please return the wand.” He tried again to no avail. His hand was off, a disarmer leaving his fingertips and slapping at the older man’s hand, who was pushed back slightly, caught by surprise.
Ollivander watched as the wand returned to the young man, and he was taken aback when his eyes turned pitch black. “No offence, sir. I don’t like it when it leaves my possession.” The boy grumbled as he looked down and trailed his fingers down the spine of the wand.
The blacks of his eyes gradually reverted to their usual vibrant self after a moment. The boy seemed to be unaware of the changes within him. Ollivander could guess this was related to his inert family magic, but the wand was a contributing factor. A small smile adorned the man’s face as his suspicions were confirmed.
“Sorry about that, Mr Potter. A wandmaker’s interest always lies in wands, and when confronted with a masterpiece as the one you hold in your hand, I am bound to be lost.”
Harry rubbed the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. “I apologise, Mr Ollivander.”
“Oh, please don’t be, Mr Potter. Please don’t be.” He waved the young man’s apology off as the two walked to the exit of the shop. “Do you know what you hold in your hands, young man?”
At Harry’s negative answer, Ollivander hummed. “Find it out.” He said. “You will be surprised when you know what you are holding in your hand.” The man bade him farewell and retreated into his shop.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Harry hissed, frustrated by the man’s parting words. This was his previous conversation with Dumbledore all over again. He had yet to finish reading the book that Dumbledore had recommended him to read. He did manage to procure an old one from the library in Grimmauld, but he had not got down to reading it.
With Ollivander’s words, he decided that he should find out what those two meant. He eyed the wand once again. “Just what is this mystery around you?” Harry mumbled. He had a book to read as soon as he got back home.
TBC—------
