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(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 106: Dark Festivities
🕑 Added 2023-07-30 14:40:59 +0000 UTCChapter 106: Dark Festivities
20 December 1992, Hogwarts
The home of Arcturus Black was oddly cozy for the Patriarch of such a fearsome family. To be perfectly honest, Harry expected a dark mansion filled with dangerous creatures and hidden traps that cursed whoever was inside, driving them slowly to insanity. Instead, was a tastefully decorated manors with three floors and three wings.
When the Black Patriarch took Harry there using a Portkey, the entire structure was hidden under the snow that was falling. Of course, it took a couple of minutes for him to recover the nausea coming from using Portkey. Why did all magical travel have to be this uncomfortable? At least the floo wasn’t that bad.
Anyway, from the outside, the manor was beautiful. There were stone sculptures, fountains and decorations everywhere, some them shining in ethereal light to celebrate the bank holidays of the end of the year.
The inside was just as tasteful as the outside. The entrance hall was spectacular; the walls had magical paintings on them, a blue and comfortable carpet covered the floor, the chandelier was golden and diffusing a brilliant magical light. The atmosphere was warm, welcoming, with the wealth and the decorations one expected of a Victorian-era noble residence.
They could have probably arrived inside the manor, but Arcturus obviously wanted to show off for some reason, but they didn’t really talk to each other. The only thing the old man said was that Harry was welcome to browse the library, showed him to his room, and stated that the young Slytherin was assigned his own personal house elf for the duration of his stay. It was a nice young elf called Tilly, who seemed very enthusiastic at the idea of taking care of Harry.
Anyway, the moment he was shown to his room, which was located on the upper floor of Black Manor, Harry couldn't help but be awestruck by its elegance and charm. The corridor leading to it was lined with ancient tapestries that depicted the proud history of the Black family, and soft torches adorned the walls, casting a warm and soothing glow.
The room itself wasn’t some expression of wealth, the person having designed it had obviously preferred comfort over decorations. It was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that allowed the daylight to flood in during the day, offering glimpses of the snow outside. In the center of the room stood an exquisite four-poster bed, its frame made of dark, polished wood adorned with delicate engravings. The soft, emerald-green bedding was embellished with silver trim, making it look regal yet inviting. A matching, plush armchair sat in the corner, inviting him to relax and unwind with a book from the extensive library downstairs. Outside of a mahogany desk, a few empty bookshelves, and an empty closet, the room was somewhat empty.
The bed was really comfortable, so much so, that Harry had fallen asleep the moment he lied down on it, mostly because he was tired in his journey on the Express. When the Potter scion had woken up the next day, he began his morning routine and went down the stairs to have his breakfast.
Arcturus Black was waiting for him, with a plate of perfectly cooked eggs and sausages in front of him, “I suppose you had a good night?”
“Yes, the bed was very comfortable,” Harry replied.
“Oh, I know. Melania, my wife, designed this whole place, down to every enchantment. She refused to stay in the Black townhouse, called it an infested creepy place whose goal was to intimidate visitors, than to be comfortable enough to live in. I loved that woman, but she was very blunt like that. And by the powers, that woman had a tongue on her that would make a grown man blush, and she wasn’t afraid to let her opinions known.”
The melancholic tone by the end of his sentence made Harry uncomfortable. He obviously missed his wife, that he alluded previously to have died before the Potter scion was even born. Instead, he just said, “Well, at least she had good taste.”
The older man snorted, “Ah, that she did. A little piece of advice from an old man. Find your own little spitfire, one who wouldn’t let you get away with nothing. You’ll probably want to tear your hair out more times than you would like, but you’ll be a happy man.”
Harry looked away, uncomfortable with the idea of any kind of romantic relationship. It wasn’t really his fault, but he didn’t have an ounce of experience when it came to relationships. He was barely holding on to his friends, and even then, he had no idea how that happened. His previous life didn’t help, since he had the social skills of a particularly dense rock back then.
The Potter scion decided to just change the subject, “So, what’s the plan? You never said why you invited me to spend Yule with you.”
“I was surprised you accepted, really,” the older man said, “you seemed too prudent for something like this. I honestly just wanted to get a measure of you and spending a few days together should do the trick. And you don’t have to worry about me being malicious, I offered you guest right, remember?”
Ah, yes, guest right, one of the oldest forms of magic, and one that was essential for a magical society to form. The idea is simple, when you offer someone a place in your home as a guest, you are not allowed to harm them in any way, and in return, they are not allowed to hurt you. The premise was older than any historic document and was enforced with a very powerful curse. Every single person who broke the agreement would lose everything that ever mattered to him, before dying a very gruesome and painful death. Old Celtic mages have somehow adapted the curse into the concept of Geas, which was a contract, or a vow enforced by that same curse. Yeah, it was a lot more hardcore than the modern unbreakable vow.
That meant that for the length of his stay, Harry could not knowingly harm Arcturus, nor could Arcturus harm Harry.
Harry simply nodded and the man continued, “Now, since you just accepted my invitation, I’m guessing you need some help with your little Basilisk problem?”
The Potter scion was taken aback; the man wasn’t supposed to know about it, even if it was obvious since he had asked the man for books about the subject. Well, him not figuring it out would have been stupid on the man’s part, “I assume it was easy for you to figure it out?”
“Yeah. It does explain a few things. A few of my old acquaintances have told me about the Chamber of Secrets being opened. I was at war back when it was opened, a young foolish boy who thought he could take on the world. But petrification with a Basilisk made a lot more sense than that oafish Half-Giant using an Acromantula of all things to somehow petrify people. I assume the attacks weren’t mistakes and that the heir of Slytherin is aiming for petrifications?”
Harry nodded and sighed in exasperation, “I was hoping to stop the entire thing before the Basilisk was even let out. The books I asked you for was more for insurance, but I failed. But yes, the heir was aiming for petrifications. Back then, I think it was supposed to kick out Dumbledore from the castle, but the entire thing fell apart when he accidentally killed a girl.”
“So, who do you think is opening it now? A descendant of that fake Dark Lord?”
“No, it is him. He left a weapon of sorts in Malfoy’s hands, one that would possess the victim into opening the chamber. The man gave it to a student, and I have been tracking it down for a while. I came very close, but it changed hands. I was able to temporarily depower the damn thing, but it will recharge soon.”
The man was gaping for some reason, “You’re telling me that he creating something that would grant someone else access to the chamber? Assuming the Slytherin would only let the chamber be opened with Parseltongue or some kind of Blood Wards, the implications of such an artifact are immense.”
“Yeah, I figured out a bit about it, and trust me, it’s horrible magic. I need to destroy it, but I also needed to have a plan against the Basilisk in case I’m forced to fight it.”
“As interesting as this magic could be, I have to ask how exactly you knew that the chamber would open and what the monster inside it was before your school year even started. I suspected that you might have been the one opening it in the first place, and that you wanted to figure out how to take control of the Basilisk, but you wouldn’t have been that obvious about it if you were planning on committing a crime. So, you wanted to stop it, and you were desperate to do so, but the manner that you acquired the information meant that it couldn’t be verified or that it would put a target on your back. You’re a seer, aren’t you? Surprising, since I haven’t heard of Seers appearing in the Potter line. It could be a family secret, so Charlus wouldn’t have told me, but Seers are often celebrated and are used as way to elevate a family’s status, so there was no need to hide it. Tell me, how close am I?”
Shit! How the hell did he figure it out. Harry started to realize just out of his depth he was. This was a man who had been a politician for decades and was probably at the head of the dark faction that opposed Dumbledore the most. He was intelligent, but he was right. Harry was desperate and had gambled at the fact that he would have caught the Diary before any attack had even happened. And now his arrogance had cost him a lot of private information.
The Black Patriarch must have sensed his fear. His eyes softened and he spoke in a gentle paternal tone, “Harry, there’s no need to look so worried. I told you; I’m not interested in using you. I’m too old, and I’m too tired for this, I am getting your measure as my potential heir, nothing more, and I have a lot more on my plate than attacking a schoolboy for no reason. You’re young and you made a lot of mistakes when we talked to each other, and you will make a lot of mistakes over time. You need to be careful when you’re talking to politicians. You’re an intelligent boy, I’ll give you that, but you are inexperienced when it comes to politics. I suppose that’s something I’ll have to help you with. My heir or not, you’re Charlus’ heir, and I do owe that man much, enough to help you out sometimes. Now tell me, about the basilisk. What do you have to far in terms of fighting it?” the Black Patriarch asked.
Harry took a deep breath and for the first time in this life decided to show a modicum of trust towards an adult. It wasn’t easy, but the man knew already knew that it he was a seer and that he saw the chamber of secrets. It wasn’t exactly true. He was technically a seer, but it wasn’t how he knew about the chamber. Honestly, it was his seer abilities that pushed him towards accepting Arcturus’ invitation in the first place. A week before receiving the invitation, he saw a vision of a Grim giving Harry a sword that he used to kill a giant serpent. The moment he had read the invitation later, he understood what it meant, that Arcturus Black would help arm him for the coming conflict. Perhaps revealing enough wouldn’t be a bad idea, “Well, I constructed my own Basilisk Glare-Resistant goggled to avoid being killed immediately. I combined the old designs from the book you gave me with Jewel Craft, which…”
The man’s eyes lit up and continued, “Which would let you absorb the diffracted magic of the glare, adding to the durability of the goggles and a possible reserve for something else. A very impressive idea, indeed. Does it work?”
“I have to way to test it, but it does refract any spell I tried, so it should work with any magic, including the Basilisk Glare,” Harry responded.
“What else have you done to prepare?” The Black Patriarch was getting very excited now.
“I learnt Ice magic, but the progress is slower that I like. But the biggest thing I did was plan a weapon, one that should be capable of killing a Basilisk. The problem is that I have a few problems acquiring the materials.”
“So, you need my help. What’s the guarantee that this will work?” the man asked with shrewd eyes.
“Well, I am planning on crafting it tomorrow. The Winter Solstice should be optimal for this. You can judge it later, but let’s be absolutely clear, that this weapon will be mine, and mine alone. You will have no stake in it whatsoever. I would rather not build it at all, if that means that it would fall into another’s hands. No offense, but you seem nice and all, but I don’t know enough about you to trust you with something like this.”
“But you’d trust me enough for the materials…” the man stated with a slight smile on his face.
“Yes. I think you would do it out of curiosity more than anything.”
The Black Patriarch burst into laughter, “You know what, I really am curious. You’ll have your materials. Impress me, little Potter. What do you need for your weapon?”
Harry grinned and asked, “I need as much Goblin Silver as you can spare, the more the better, and a House Elf in your service called Kreature.”
The man’s eyes widening almost made the Potter scion burst into laughter.
