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Harry Potter: Forging the Flame Ch. 19
🕑 Added 2025-03-08 03:35:00 +0000 UTCChapter 19.
Twilfitt’s Pewter and Titanium was a cauldron jungle and not a store. The piles of pewter, silver, and reinforced titanium figures rose precariously, some with tendrils of steam escaping from them, others softly radiating with internal magic. A massive blackened cauldron in a corner crackled with residual magic.
The stout wizard shopkeeper with sooty-colored robes barely even looked up from polishing a bronze stir rod.
“If you want regular cauldron, back row,” he growled. “Silver’s in the back. No refunds if you blow yourself up.”
Daphne ignored him altogether, moving around a stack of reinforced silver cauldrons that rose to her shoulder. “We require high-grade. It must be able to withstand volatile ingredients.”
The shopkeeper sighed. “Alright, how volatile are we talking?”
Harry looked at Daphne and then back at the man.
“Basilisk Venom.”
The shopkeeper froze mid-polish.
He then let out a wheezing laugh. “Ah, good one. Haven’t heard that one before.”
They did not laugh.
Daphne crossed her arms. “We mean it.”
His laughter disappeared in a split second. His eyes flashed back and forth between them, looking for some indication that they were joking.
“…You’re being serious?”
Harry nodded.
The shopkeeper stared at them, then took a sharp breath and muttered, “Bloody hell.”
He set the rod aside and rubbed his face. “Alright. Listen. Nobody brews with Basilisk Venom. It’s not a potion ingredient, it’s one of the most dangerous substances in existence. Even if you could stabilize it, you’d need a cauldron that wouldn’t melt the second it touched the stuff.”
“That’s why we’re asking,” Daphne said coolly.
The shopkeeper studied them for a moment, then muttered something under his breath and nodded toward the back. “Fine. Come on.”
Harry and Daphne followed him through the dusty aisles toward a locked storage cabinet. He raised his wand, and with a low creak, the cabinet opened to reveal a single, unmarked wooden crate.
With another flick of his wand, the crate unfolded.
Inside was a cauldron unlike anything else in the shop.
It was starforged silver, polished to a mirror sheen, yet oddly dark like the metal absorbed light rather than reflected it. Faintly glowing arcane runes were etched into the surface.
Daphne’s brow furrowed. “What is this?”
The shopkeeper crossed his arms. “The Magnus Crucible.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Dramatic name.”
The man ignored him. “This is an alchemical masterpiece. Starforged silver, lined with Purified Meteorite Ore. Won’t corrode, won’t crack under magical strain, and won’t explode even if you mix Dragon’s Blood with Dementor Residue at the same time.”
Daphne blinked. “That’s… a horrifying test.”
The shopkeeper shrugged. “Alchemists don’t mess around.”
Harry tilted his head. “And Basilisk Venom?”
The man smirked. “That’s what the Etheric Barrier Coating is for. It prevents any corrosive substance magical or otherwise from eating through the cauldron. Basilisk Venom wouldn’t even leave a mark.”
Daphne ran her hand along the rim, tracing the shifting runes. “This is beyond anything I’ve ever worked with.”
The shopkeeper nodded. “This is what high-level potioneers and alchemists use for experimental brews. You won’t find anything better in Britain.”
Harry was already convinced. “Alright. How much?”
The shopkeeper let out a dramatic sigh. “Standard price for a masterpiece model: 500 Galleons.”
Daphne tensed slightly. Even for the Greengrass family, that was a hefty price.
But before she could say anything, Harry spoke.
“Can you charge it to the Potter Vault?”
The shopkeeper blinked. Then blinked again.
Daphne turned to stare at him.
“You…?”
Harry shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “What? It’s easier.”
The shopkeeper snorted but didn’t argue. “Fine, Potter Vault it is.”
With a flick of his wand, the Magnus Crucible shimmered and shrank into a compact, reinforced transport box. He slid it across the counter.
Harry tucked it into his bag as if it were nothing.
Daphne was still watching him.
Harry sighed. “What now?”
Daphne folded her arms. “You just spent 500 Galleons like you were buying a Chocolate Frog.”
“I mean… we need it?”
Daphne exhaled, shaking her head. “I always forget you’re secretly stupidly rich.”
The shopkeeper snorted. “Enjoy the cauldron, Lord Moneybags.”
Harry groaned. “Great. Now you’re in on it too.”
Daphne smirked. “Come on, Potter. You just sent a 500-Galleon bill to your ancient wizard vault like it was pocket change. I think we’re allowed to comment.”
Harry muttered something under his breath but didn’t deny it.
Daphne slung her bag over her shoulder. “Alright. That’s done.”
Harry took a breath. “Next stop, Gringotts.”
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Well, Potter,” she mused, glancing at him with a smirk, “congratulations. You are now the proud owner of the most pretentious cauldron in Britain.”
Harry sighed dramatically. “Thank you, Lady Greengrass. I’ve always dreamed of being an unnecessarily wealthy alchemist.”
Daphne hummed. “Oh, absolutely. Next thing I know, you’ll be commissioning golden stirring rods and lecturing about the delicate balance of etheric transmutation.”
Harry grinned. “That’s right. I’ll start wearing flowing silk robes and saying things like, ‘Ah yes, the subtle notes of lunar essence really bring out the soul in this potion.’”
Daphne snorted. “Merlin. I hate how easily I can imagine that.”
Harry chuckled. “I’ll have to grow a beard, too. All the great alchemists have one.”
“Oh, definitely,” Daphne agreed, mock-serious. “And you’ll need a tower. Preferably one with a library full of cursed books and a massive telescope for brooding into the night.”
“Standard alchemist starter pack,” Harry said, nodding.
“I’d visit. Just to laugh at you.”
“Generous.”
“I know.”
They both grinned, the easy banter flowing without effort now. Somewhere along the way, the stiffness between them had faded. It wasn’t Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, or partners awkwardly tolerating each other for a project anymore. It was just… them.
And it was kind of nice.
Harry was still smirking when voice rang out through the street.
“Daphne?!”
They both froze.
Daphne whipped around so fast she nearly dislocated something.
Her face flushed crimson. “MUM?! It’s NOT what it looks like!”
Harry’s entire soul left his body.
Daphne’s mother was right there. Regal, perfectly dressed, and looking at them like she’d caught them committing a federal offense.
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Harry Potter?”
Harry had no idea why she said his name like that, but it made him want to apologize. For what, he didn’t know.
She took one slow, assessing look at Daphne’s bag, then at Harry, then at their general existence.
Then, in a calm, icy voice that somehow made him break out into a cold sweat, she asked:
“Why are you kidnapping my daughter?”
Harry fully malfunctioned.
“WHAT?!”
“Mother, oh my GOD!” Daphne looked physically pained. “He’s not kidnapping me! I’m here willingly!”
“That’s what hostages say,”
Harry made a distressed wheezing sound. “I..this is..we’re working on a potion project!”
Her mother arched a single, terrifying eyebrow. “A potion project.”
“Yes! For class! Not for anything illegal!” Harry said quickly.
Daphne’s mother folded her arms. “Mhm.”
“We were just shopping,” Daphne added. “For ingredients. And cauldrons.”
“Cauldrons,” her mother repeated.
“Yes. For school,” Harry emphasized, desperately.
A long, agonizing silence.
Then, to Harry’s absolute horror, she smirked.
“Well, Potter,” she said smoothly, clearly enjoying this far too much, “since you’ve gone through the effort of dragging my daughter around Diagon Alley, I assume you’ll at least be buying her lunch.”
Harry, still actively dying, mumbled, “I already offered.”
Her mother’s smirk widened. She turned to Daphne. “Well, well. He’s a gentleman. Good choice, daughter.”
Daphne made a noise of pure suffering. “MUM.”
Harry, meanwhile, was seriously considering running straight into Knockturn Alley to escape this conversation.
Daphne mom finally took pity on them or at least, pretended to. With a graceful tilt of her head, she extended a hand toward Harry.
“Clarissa Greengrass. Businesswoman, mother, and, as my dear daughter will no doubt claim, a terrible influence.” She winked. “A pleasure, Mr. Potter.”
Harry shook her hand, still not entirely sure if this was a normal interaction or some kind of social ambush.
Daphne exhaled dramatically. “Yes, yes. Proper introductions, how polite.” She shot Harry a flat look. “For the record, she’s also a prankster.”
Clarissa sighed, deeply wounded. “You make it sound so juvenile, darling. I prefer ‘connoisseur of strategic mischief.’”
Harry, desperately trying to keep up, just nodded. “Right. Of course.”
Clarissa’s smirk softened ever so slightly, and for the first time, she sounded genuinely motherly. “But truly, what are you two up to? Do you need help with anything?”
Harry, relieved to have a normal question, straightened. “We’re heading to Gringotts.”
Clarissa’s brows lifted with interest. “Oh, well, that’s convenient! I have business there myself.” She clasped her hands together. “Please, do accompany me, my dear children.”
Harry and Daphne had absolutely no choice in the matter.
Clarissa had spoken, and that was that.
Daphne let out a groan, stomping her foot once like a frustrated child. “Mum, you don’t have to..”
“Oh, nonsense,” Clarissa said airily, already looping her arm through Daphne’s and steering her forward. “I’m simply escorting my darling daughter and her Gryffindor friend to Gringotts. Nothing strange about that.”
Daphne threw Harry a suffering look over her shoulder.
Harry, still slightly dazed from the social ambush, just nodded dumbly and followed. He wasn’t about to argue with a woman who had single handedly steamrolled both of them in under two minutes.
As they stepped through the towering entrance of Gringotts, the grand marble hall bustled with goblins hurrying back and forth.
Clarissa led the way making a beeline for an open counter. She slid a single sleek envelope across the polished marble surface. “For the Greengrass estate,” she said smoothly.
The goblin took it without comment, his sharp claws tapping the wax seal. “Processing will be complete within the hour.”
Clarissa nodded, already turning back to Harry and Daphne. “Well then! That’s my business concluded.” She clasped her hands. “Now, what about yours?”
Daphne shot Harry a look, silently asking if he still wanted to go through with this.
Harry squared his shoulders, stepping toward the next available goblin.
The goblin barely looked up as Harry approached.
“State your business.”
Harry took a deep breath. “I’m here to file a claim regarding a basilisk within Hogwarts.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the goblin let out a barking laugh.
A few nearby goblins turned their heads, smirking in amusement. Even a few wizards waiting in line glanced over, curious about the apparent joke.
“A basilisk,” the goblin repeated, shaking his head. “Oh, yes, of course. And I suppose you’ve come to claim a hoard of dragon eggs while you’re at it?”
Harry didn’t react. He simply adjusted his stance and said, evenly, “I’m not joking.”
“Oh?”
“I killed a basilisk in my second year,” Harry continued “With the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. The body is still intact in the Chamber of Secrets beneath Hogwarts.”
The goblin’s quill stopped mid-scratch.
Harry took the pause as an opportunity to press forward. “By right of conquest, the remains belong to me. However, I require basilisk venom, and I would like to discuss having Gringotts handle the extraction and processing.”
The goblin stared. Slowly, he set down his quill and folded his hands on the desk. “You are claiming ownership of a thousand-year-old basilisk,” he said.
“Yes.”
A glance was exchanged between two goblins at nearby desks. One muttered something in Gobbledegook, and a third goblin, who had been passing by, stopped to listen.
The amusement in the room dissapeared.
Clarissa, standing just behind them, arched an eyebrow but said nothing, merely watching the shift in power dynamics unfold.
The goblin in front of them tapped his claws against the desk, studying Harry with new interest. “Gringotts does not accept claims without verification,” he said at last. “If this basilisk exists, our specialists will need to confirm it.”
Harry nodded.
“Fine. I can personally lead your team to the Chamber of Secrets.”
The goblin’s eyes gleamed at that. Hogwarts was notoriously difficult for outside entities to navigate, let alone gain entry.
The goblin reached into a drawer, pulled out a scroll, and scribbled something down before stamping it with a heavy seal. “A verification team will arrive tomorrow. If your claim is proven valid, we will begin negotiations regarding extraction, valuation, and ownership.”
He slid the parchment across the desk. “Sign here.”
Harry took the quill and, without hesitation, scrawled his name at the bottom.
The goblin took the parchment back, inspecting it before giving Harry an appraising look.
“Well, Mr. Potter,” he said, now with a distinct lack of condescension, “we shall see if your claim holds weight.”
“I’ll be expecting you.”
With nod, the goblin tucked the parchment away. “Your presence will not be required for further discussion until verification is complete.”
Harry took that as a dismissal and stepped back.
Clarissa, who had been silent through the whole exchange, finally let out a soft hum of approval.
“Well handled,”
Daphne just shook her head slightly, still absorbing what had just happened. “You just made a business deal with goblins,” she muttered. “Over a basilisk.”
Clarissa smirked. “And now that your mysterious basilisk dealings are settled, I do believe it’s time for lunch.” She linked her arm through Daphne’s again, leading the way out of Gringotts. “Come along, my dear children. You must be famished..”
They went to The Gilded Griffin, a tucked-away bistro near the entrance to Knockturn Alley, known for its old wizarding charm and impeccable roast selections. The menu boasted everything from dragon-fire grilled steak to delicate pheasant pies, but in the end, Clarissa ordered charmed venison that always stayed perfectly tender, Daphne chose a rich beef and barley stew, and Harry still overwhelmed by everything just went with the classic roast chicken with buttered potatoes.
As soon as they placed their orders, Clarissa turned her full attention on Daphne.
“You’re looking well enough,” she mused, sipping her wine. “You are eating properly, aren’t you?”
Daphne sighed. “Yes, Mother.”
“Sleeping?”
Daphne sighed deeper. “Yes, Mother.”
“Not working yourself into the ground over your grades?”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “Obviously not.”
Clarissa gave her an unimpressed look. “Daphne.”
Daphne hesitated for half a second before mumbling, “…I’m managing.”
Harry arched a brow. That sounded suspicious.
Clarissa seemed to think so too, because she sighed dramatically and reached over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Daphne’s ear.
“You do realize you don’t have to be perfect at all times, yes?” she said lightly, but her tone held an unmistakable warmth.
Daphne, suddenly very focused on her water glass, muttered, “I know.”
Clarissa smiled knowingly but let the subject drop.
Harry, meanwhile, sat there feeling like an accidental intruder on an actual family moment.
Clarissa tilted her head. “And Astoria? How’s my youngest doing?”
Harry blinked. Astoria?
Daphne huffed, but her tone was softer than before. “She’s fine. Still getting used to second year. Stressing over her essays like her life depends on them.”
“Ah,” Clarissa said fondly. “That age. Let me guess, she had a meltdown over a Charms quiz?”
“Last week. Apparently, the curve was ‘unjust.’”
Clarissa chuckled, thoroughly unsurprised. “Did she finally hex that awful third-year who keeps stealing her favorite chair in the library?”
“Not yet,” Daphne smirked. “But she’s working on a plan.”
Clarissa nodded approvingly. “That’s my girl.”
Harry, still processing the existence of a second Greengrass, blurted, “Wait, you have a sister?”
“Yes, Potter. I do. Why do you look so shocked?”
Harry shrugged. “I just… didn’t know?”
Clarissa grinned. “ What do you two talk about when you’re off on your little potion adventures?”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, potions?”
The food arrived, and for a few blissful moments, conversation stalled as they dug in.
Clarissa hummed approvingly after her first bite of venison. “As perfect as ever.”
Daphne, halfway through a spoonful of stew, just nodded. “Worth the wait.”
Harry, meanwhile, blinked as he chewed, surprised by how ridiculously good the roast chicken was. “Alright,” he admitted, reaching for his buttered potatoes. “This is really good..”
Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up, only to find Clarissa watching him with a sly smile.
He paused mid-bite, suddenly wary. “…What?”
Clarissa took a slow sip of her wine, eyes twinkling. “Oh, nothing, dear.”
Harry glanced at Daphne for help, but she just sighed, shook her head, and rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother, Potter. She’s enjoying herself.”
Clarrisa set down her glass and regarded Harry with a quiet kind of curiosity.
“I do have a question, Mr. Potter,” she said, this time with unmistakable warmth. “Where did you grow up?”
Harry hesitated. “…With Muggles.”
Clarissa’s brows lifted, just barely. “Oh?”
Harry pushed a piece of chicken around his plate, keeping his tone even. “Yeah. My mum’s sister took me in.”
Clarissa nodded, taking a slow sip of her wine before setting the glass down. “And tell me, Mr. Potter,” she said casually, “have you ever heard much about the Sacred Families? Or wizarding aristocracy in general?”
Harry blinked. He hadn’t expected that.
“Not really,” he admitted. “I mean, I know some names. Malfoy never shuts up about it. But beyond that… no.”
She reached across the table, giving Harry’s hand a light, motherly pat.
“Well, Mr. Potter,” she said “it may come as a surprise to you, but you belong to a Sacred Family yourself. The Potters are, were, one of the most influential names in our world.”
Harry stared at her.
Clarissa withdrew her hand gracefully. “In your spare time, do read about it. It’s always good to know your own history.”
The return trip was quiet at first.
Clarissa had bid them a warm farewell outside The Gilded Griffin, pressing a kiss to Daphne’s temple and giving Harry a knowing little smile before turning gracefully down the street. Then, it was back to The Leaky Cauldron, where they stepped through the fireplace, arriving at The Three Broomsticks in a whirl of green flames.
Now, under the cloak, they slipped through Honeydukes, careful to avoid knocking over any precariously stacked boxes of chocolate frogs and then it was simple matter of travelling the passage leading them back to castle.
But Harry suddenly remembered something.
“Wait… weren’t we supposed to check Knockturn Alley for the rest of the ingredients?”
Daphne, who had been focused on brushing dust off her sleeves, barely glanced up. “We’ll handle it when we get the basilisk venom,” she said, stifling a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”
Harry considered arguing, but honestly? He was exhausted too. “Alright.”
Reaching the stone wall, he raised his wand and muttered, “Dissendium.”
They walked through the castle and Harry couldn’t stop thinking. “Alright. So where are we actually brewing this thing?”
Daphne frowned slightly. “Not the Slytherin common room, obviously.”
“There are a few abandoned classrooms near the dungeons. Some of them were used for potions once, years ago.”
Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine. So, we’ll check those out tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” she reminded him. “And you’ll be leading a goblin expedition into a secret underground chamber.”
“Right.” Harry sighed. “Next week, then.”
They turned a corner when Harry hesitated for a second, then asked, “So… Sacred Families.”
Daphne arched a brow. “What about them?”
“My name’s apparently important,” Harry said, “but I don’t actually know why.”
Daphne hummed. “It means you’ve got some catching up to do.”
Harry groaned. “Brilliant.”
She smirked. “Most pureblood heirs start learning all this when they’re kids. Manners, networking, how to talk without actually saying anything..”
“So, politics.”
“Exactly.”
Harry made a face. “Sounds miserable.”
“Oh, it is.” Daphne shot him a dry look. “But if you ever want to step fully into wizarding society beyond just being Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, you should probably know the rules.”
Harry sighed.
“Think of it as survival skills,” Daphne said, stopping near the entrance to the Slytherin dorms. “You never know when you’ll need them.”
Harry snorted. “That’s what worries me.”
Daphne smirked. “See you Monday, Potter.”
“Yeah.” Harry lingered for half a second, then nodded. “See you.”
As she slipped inside, Harry turned back toward Gryffindor Tower, head still buzzing with potions, basilisks, and, apparently, wizarding aristocracy.
The Gryffindor common room was warm and buzzing with quiet activity when Harry stepped through the portrait hole.
Ron and Hermione were exactly where he expected them to be. Tucked into their usual corner. Hermione had books spread across the table, quill scratching away as she muttered under her breath, while Ron was dealing out Exploding Snap cards to Seamus and Dean, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
Harry dropped into the seat beside Ron, stretching his legs out with a sigh.
“You’re back late,” Hermione noted, glancing up from her parchment. “How was the library?”
“Yeah, about that… I wasn’t in the library.”
Ron threw a card onto the table and raised a brow. “Where were you, then?”
Harry smirked. “Diagon Alley.”
Hermione’s quill froze. Ron, mid-reach for another card, nearly knocked the whole deck over.
“You what?” Hermione blinked. “How?”
“Long story.” Harry grabbed one of the cards from Ron’s pile and twirled it between his fingers. “Daphne and I needed supplies, so we… made a trip.”
Ron frowned. “Wait, hold on. You just left? Snuck out of Hogwarts?”
“Through a secret passage.” Harry grinned. “Floo’d straight to Diagon Alley from The Three Broomsticks.”
Hermione groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Harry.”
Ron, on the other hand, looked more intrigued than scolding. “And nobody caught you?”
“Nope.”
“Bloody hell.” Ron leaned back, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you went to Diagon Alley and didn’t take me.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Trust me, it wasn’t exactly a casual shopping trip. We had to get ingredients for the potion.”
Hermione sighed, clearly trying to suppress her exasperation. “And did you at least get everything you needed?”
“Most of it.” Harry tossed the Exploding Snap card back onto the pile. “We still need a few more rare ingredients, but we figured we’d handle that after we get the basilisk venom.”
Ron, who had just picked up his cards, promptly dropped them again. “The what now?”
Harry grinned. “Right. Didn’t mention that yet.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Harry, what did you do?”
“Well…” Harry leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. “Remember the basilisk I killed in second year?”
“Of course.”
“Turns out, since I killed it, the remains technically belong to me,” Harry said, smirking slightly at how ridiculous it all sounded. “So, I went to Gringotts today and filed a claim.”
Ron’s mouth actually fell open. “You… you own a thousand-year-old giant snake?”
“Looks like it.”
Hermione stared at him, completely at a loss for words. “Harry, that’s… I don’t even know what to say.”
Ron, however, burst out laughing. “That’s mad. Properly mad.”
“I mean, it’s useful,” Harry pointed out. “The goblins are sending a team tomorrow to verify the claim, and if everything checks out, they’ll extract the venom for us.”
Ron whistled. “So you’re just out here making goblin business deals now.”
Hermione still looked like she was trying to process all of it. “And they agreed to this?”
“Well, after they stopped laughing at me, yeah.”
Ron shook his head, still grinning. “You had a more interesting Saturday than us, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah? What were you two up to?”
Hermione straightened a little. “Well, I was studying.”
“Shocking,” Harry deadpanned.
Hermione shot him a look before continuing. “And Ron was working on his project.”
Harry blinked. “Wait, your partner’s Malfoy, right?”
Ron groaned, slumping in his chair. “Don’t remind me.”
Harry smirked. “So… how’s that going?”
“He’s the worst,” Ron muttered. “I went to the library to actually start the project with him, right? Thought maybe, just maybe, he’d at least pretend to help.” He tossed his cards onto the table with a scowl. “Mate, he did absolutely nothing. Just sat there, making dumb comments about how this whole thing is beneath him.”
“And you didn’t hex him?”
“Oh, I thought about it,” Ron said darkly. “But instead, I told him to shut up and actually do some work. Said I don’t care how important he thinks he is, I’m not gonna fail just because he’s too busy acting like a pompous prat.”
Harry let out a laugh. “And?”
“Looked at me like I’d grown two heads. But you know what? He actually started working. The moment I called him out, suddenly he had ideas.”
Harry shook his head. “So, the secret to making Malfoy useful is just annoying him?”
“Apparently.” Ron groaned, slouching back in his chair. “Merlin help me, I have to put up with him for another four months”
Harry leaned forward, smirking. “Alright, so what exactly are you two working on? ”
Ron sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, you’re gonna love this. He wants to make some kind of ‘luxury-grade’ enhancement potion. Something that…get this… makes your hair shinier and your skin clearer.”
“…You’re joking.”
“I wish,” Ron groaned. “Says there’s a ‘real market’ for it. Wants to call it ‘Malfoy’s Magnificent Elixir’ or some rubbish.”
Harry snorted. “Of course he does.”
Hermione, who had been quietly listening, frowned. “Actually… that’s not the worst idea. Cosmetic potions are a huge industry. If done right, it could be a very profitable project.”
“Don’t encourage him.”
“I’m just saying,” Hermione said with a small shrug. “If he’s serious about it, you might actually have a decent project.”
Ron rolled his eyes.
Harry chuckled. “Well, at least he’s contributing now.”
“Yeah,” Ron muttered. “Shame I had to practically yell at him first.”
Harry climbed the stairs to the dormitory, dropping onto his bed with a sigh. He barely had the energy to pull the curtains closed before reaching for his bag. Digging inside, he pulled out the small enchanted mirror and turned it over in his hands.
Taking a breath, he whispered, “Sirius Black.”
The surface shimmered, and a second later, Sirius’ face appeared.
“Harry,” he greeted, “Good, you’re in one piece.”
Harry blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Sirius smirked. “Call it instinct. Last time we talked, you were planning to sneak off to Diagon Alley.”
Harry grinned. “Right. Well, you’ll be happy to know I didn’t get arrested or murdered in Knockturn Alley.”
“Small victories,” Sirius said dryly. “So? Did you get what you needed?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. Managed to get a cauldron that won’t melt if we drop basilisk venom in it.”
Sirius let out a low whistle. “I don’t even want to know how much that set you back.”
“Five hundred Galleons.”
Sirius made a choking sound. “Merlin’s beard, Harry! Five hundred?! What did you buy, the Philosopher’s Stone in a pot?”
Harry snorted. “No, just the best alchemy-grade cauldron in Britain, apparently.”
Sirius muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “James would’ve had a heart attack.” Then, more seriously, he asked, “And Gringotts? Did they take the claim seriously?”
Harry nodded. “They’re sending a team tomorrow to verify it. If everything checks out, they’ll extract the venom for me.”
“Good. That’s a big step, Harry. Goblins don’t play around with stuff like this. If they’re handling it, you’ll get the best result possible.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Harry hesitated, turning the mirror slightly in his hands before adding, “There was something else.”
Sirius arched a brow. “Go on.”
Harry sighed. “Daphne’s mum, Clarissa Greengrass was with us in Diagon Alley. And during lunch, she brought up something about Sacred Families and how the Potters are apparently one of them.” He gave Sirius a look. “Anything you forgot to mention?”
Sirius exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Ah. That.”
“That,” Harry repeated flatly.
Sirius hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “Didn’t think it mattered much, considering how you grew up. But yeah, the Potters were a Sacred Family. Old money, old magic. One of the few pureblood lines that never dabbled in blood purity nonsense.”
Harry frowned. “Okay… but if we were so important, why do I know nothing about it?”
Sirius let out a dry chuckle. “Because your lovely relatives weren’t exactly keen on teaching you about the wizarding world. And honestly? Even if they had, this isn’t something you learn overnight. Pureblood kids,at least the ones raised in it get drilled on this stuff from birth. Politics, traditions, etiquette, all the ridiculous posturing that comes with being a ‘proper heir.’”
Harry groaned. “Brilliant. Just what I need more rules.”
“Annoying, but necessary,” Sirius said, shrugging. “If you ever want to really step into that world, you need to know the rules before some old bastard like Malfoy tries to use them against you.”
Harry made a face. “Daphne basically said the same thing.”
Sirius grinned. “Smart girl.”
Harry huffed, tilting his head back against his pillows. “So, what am I supposed to do? Memorize which spoon to use at fancy dinners? Start wearing a monocle?”
Sirius barked a laugh. “No monocles required. But if you’re serious about this, I can find you a tutor.”
Harry blinked. “A tutor?”
“Yeah. Someone outside Hogwarts who actually knows their stuff. Traditions, networking, formalities, how to handle pureblood politics,everything.” Sirius smirked. “Think of it as battle training. Except instead of dodging curses, you’ll be dodging social traps.”
Harry considered that. He hadn’t really thought about stepping into that world, but… maybe he should. If nothing else, it might be useful.
“I’ll think about it,” he said finally.
Sirius nodded. “That’s all I ask.” Then, with a smirk, he added, “And hey, at least you won’t be as bad as Ron. Can you imagine him trying to navigate a pureblood gala?”
Harry burst out laughing. “Merlin, he’d hex someone in the first five minutes.”
“Exactly.” Sirius grinned. “Now, get some sleep, kid. You’ve got goblins to impress tomorrow.”
“Yeah. No pressure or anything.”
“You’ll be fine.”
Harry smirked, shaking his head as the mirror’s surface rippled and went dark.
He set it aside, sinking into his pillows.
Tomorrow, he’d deal with goblins.
For now, at least, he could rest.
Comments
Thrivean
I’m getting more and more excited about this story as you develop the plot, I absolutely love it so far, especially the banter!
