Hadrianpotterpeverell
patreon
The Cursed Line & The Blessed Heir
🕑 Added 2023-09-14 17:28:08 +0000 UTCChapter 1- The Name That I Carry
“Mr Peverell?” Three pairs of eyes followed the call, pausing in their stride to respond. They noticed a man shuffling towards them, blood stains on his robe, his right arm hanging limp towards his side. “Mr Peverell….”
“Good god, what happened to you, Mr Williams!?” The man on the far left exclaimed, taken aback by the appearance of his father’s most trusted aide. Cuts and bruises adorned the man’s face. He was unsure what happened to the man, but it had to be wrong.
“Please catch your breath, Mr Williams.” The man in the middle advised, holding the man by his shoulder. He placed his index finger on the injured man’s forehead, and with a whispered muttering, he felt the man begin to heal from his injuries; his face cleared up, the bruises left, and the cuts started to heal. He repeated the procedure with the injured man’s arm.
“Look away for a moment.” The young man requested, and when Williams complied, he began fixing his arm, a pop accompanying his actions, causing Williams to hiss in pain that shot through his arm. Within seconds, he was able to move his arm without hesitation.
“Any other injury…” The man began to speak but was interrupted by Williams. “No….your father…” He gasped, still short of breath. “Your father….They have your father!”
The three brothers frowned at the man’s words. “Who has our father? Calm yourself, Mr Williams. You are not making sense.” The man in the middle said, holding the other man by his shoulder.
“That factionist from yonder….The one your father talked about, Cook. He was stirring up trouble for a while now.” The young men nodded. They knew about this man. They had listened to Father talk about him and the trouble he wanted to brew. It was not the first time this had happened.
“Where is he? Where is my Father?” The last of the three brothers questioned.
“North. An hour from here.” Williams muttered. “They are a lot in numbers. Be cautious, Ignotus.” The man, Ignotus, nodded solemnly, looking towards his brothers. “I think it is best to get started, brothers.”
North, they began, worrying with each passing second. Not that their father needed help. He was beyond what many others were capable of. Few could look after a community as big as Godric’s Hollow being helpless. Being the spokesperson of the magical community of Britain concentrated in and around Godric’s Hollow and the person responsible for the non-magics living with each other in harmony, Alistair Peverell was a well-known name in Britannia.
They were not informed about their father’s departure to the north of Godric’s Hollow during this time of the year. They never had a habit of questioning their father. He did what he had to and did it the way he wanted, just like today. They didn’t ask what he was up to, nor did the man say anything about today.
“We will remain calm, brother.” Ignotus eyed the man on his far left. “We go and get Father back. He should be the most important priority.”
“For that, you better hope he is unharmed, Ignotus. Father better be fine.” Ignotus clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Now is not the time to be hasty, Antioch. We can always see that we can make other arrangements for that man, but we don’t have another father, brother.”
“One wrong move and everything we end up doing will be down the drain. Remember that we have a life at stake here.”
“Ignotus is right, brother.” The young man walking in the middle placed an arm around his elder brother. “We should get Father out of trouble as our first piece of action. We have no idea why Father is being kept, but I feel we will learn soon enough.”
“Why are you failing to understand what this means?” Antioch questioned, his annoyance growing by the second. “The man is a factionist. What happens when we hand over somebody with leverage to a factionist?”
“I get why you’re upset. I agree that no amount of pacification will be of much use. But don’t think for a second that my step back indicates that I will not take up arms if necessary. If Father is harmed, I will burn down that man before you can reach him.” He vowed, his eyes glinting dangerously. The two brothers went silent at the third brother’s declaration. Ignotus Peverell was not somebody who handed out idle threats. Cadmus and Antioch were hasty. They expressed their anger and their thoughts, but Ignotus was the opposite. He was the most sensible among the brothers. He wasn’t vocal with his temper. When he does get vocal, it outshines the two of them considerably and ends badly for the person responsible for his rage.
The three brothers shared one sentiment at the moment: not anger. It was worry. They hoped their father was well and good as they hastened their steps.
Harry blinked as he was pulled back into the land of the living. One glance at the ceiling told him about his location. He groaned, caressing his forehead. Not the medical wing. He sat up cautiously, looking around to see if Madam Pomfrey was present and to his immense relief, she was not around. He was slightly surprised. He never knew the woman ventured out of the Hospital wing. Not when he had been at Hogwarts; that is the better part of three years.
In the entirety of Hogwarts, if there was somebody who could display their disapproval with their eyes, it was McGonagall and Pomfrey. Three years at Hogwarts and his Hospital visits had become mandatory by the end of every year, much to her disapproval.
“I see that you are awake, Harry.” He didn’t know why he did it, but his hand moved on its own, a flicking sensation accompanied by a brilliant jet of light zooming towards Dumbledore and hitting his wrist, disarming the man of his wand. The wand came rushing back to Harry, and he was quick enough to snatch it out of the air.
When Harry felt the cold wood touch his fingers, he felt himself engulfed in a wave of coldness. A coldness that felt warm. He was taken aback by the feeling he was induced with. He could feel the cold and the iciness, yet it tended to warm him up.
“Harry?” He felt Dumbledore shake him by his shoulders. When their eyes met, the older man recoiled in horror. He stepped back in haste, his face paling considerably.
“Professor?” Harry questioned confusion in his voice. Dumbledore moved with a speed that should be illegal to one as old as him, and he held a wand at Harry’s throat.
“Professor!?” Harry yelped in surprise as the man glared at Harry. “Professor….what are you...?”
Dumbledore muttered something under his breath, and Harry felt a weird sensation in his abdomen and a sharp, stinging pain shortly after. Harry clutched his stomach as severe pains began to shoot through his stomach at regular intervals.
The older man watched keenly for something, but he sagged in relief and decided to remove his wand from Harry’s throat, the pain subsiding in Harry’s abdomen.
“What was that?” Harry gasped, gulping in some air as he felt the pain ebbing away. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Harry questioned, glaring at the older man.
“Forgive me, Harry.” Dumbledore apologised, sitting down on the bed opposite the one he was on.
“But I feared that you had been possessed. Your eyes turned black for a few moments.”
“Oh…” Harry whispered, frowning in thought. “Black?” The older man nodded. This was the second time he had heard about his eyes turning black for some reason—last night with Sirius and now with Dumbledore.
“I couldn’t refute the possibility of possession. I had to check to ensure there was nothing else afloat.” He defended his actions. “That spell was to check for a possession, and suffice to say, it is nothing like that.”
The Headmaster noticed his student, who seemed distant from the conversation. He gave a few moments for the boy to get back to him. When that didn’t seem to be happening, he coughed gently.
“Is there something you want to tell me about, Harry?” The teen shook his head firmly. “Nothing of much importance, Headmaster.” Dumbledore smiled.
“How is it that you managed to find yourself in the care of Poppy every year when you are just about to go back home? I never know.” Harry scowled at the man. “Not funny, sir.”
“Ah…the thing is, dear boy, it is funny when I can witness the woman's hold on the students. As they say, you should never mess with people who feed you and people who treat you.”
“And for the record, if Poppy ever hears about me saying this, I will deny it without hesitation.” At Harry’s smirk, he continued. “You can smirk all you want, but I strictly follow those words. Never mess with people who treat you and cook for you.”
“Anyway,” Dumbledore sighed. “I did have a question.” He regarded the young man curiously.
“Early to bed, early to rise. I know that should be the case, but being the headmaster of a prestigious institution, I cannot go to bed early. But I still have to rise early, mind you.” He chuckled.
“Imagine my surprise when I woke up at four in the morning and stepped into my office to see an ethereal thestral standing before my door.” Okay. Now he understood where this was going. “That was a thestral, was it?” Harry mumbled. He should ask Hagrid about it.
Dumbledore let the boy complete his thoughts. He didn’t miss the fact that the boy casually ignored that he had cast a patronus.
“So that is your patronus?” Harry nodded, a small smile adorning his face. “It is. I didn’t know that it was a thestral, though. What is it anyway?”
“Wonderful creatures. Creatures that are rarely seen in the wizarding world and are associated with Death. Harbinger of Death, if I may say so. They are magical creatures that can be witnessed by those in the presence of a soul departing the land of the living. People who have been unlucky enough to witness death.”
“There is so much to the thestrals that were never fully uncovered. They are mysterious creatures. That is where we leave it. For some reason, they are just not seen by every person to have witnessed death. Young Ms. Lovegood, the poor girl, could see them from the first time she stepped into Hogwarts. On the other hand, many fail to witness the thestrals right under their noses even after several years.”
“There are thestrals in Hogwarts?” Harry questioned, surprised by the revelation. “Of course. They are what pull the carriages from Hogsmeade station to Hogwarts.” He smiled mischievously.
“Many still assume that the carriages are pulled on their own.” He explained. “I haven’t thought about correcting any of them.”
Harry shook his head. He knew this man was barmy, but he never knew that he was completely crazy. A side of Dumbledore that only some would have been interested in or aware of.
“We should be talking about what happened last night, Harry.” Dumbledore began.
“I follow your patronus and two more circling your limp form. What were you doing in the forest?” He questioned. “Is there something you wished to speak to me about?”
Harry considered the man’s words. Would it be wise of him if he tried to talk to the man about Sirius? Will it be received with an open mind? Dumbledore would be the safe option to talk to, but Harry could still not postpone the previous night's events—trust issues.
“We were looking for Ron’s rat, Professor. Hagrid had managed to find Scabbers, and when we had been to see him, he handed him over to us, but Ron lost him. The rat was difficult to catch, but I had to venture deeper into the forest in my excitement, and that was when the Dementors came calling.”
Dumbledore’s face went stoic. From what little he knew, Dumbledore never was okay with the Dementors being stationed at Hogwarts.
“That was beyond my expectation, Harry. I never knew that you could cast a patronus.” Dumbledore said.
“I couldn’t, sir. Yesterday was the first time that I managed to do so. I was left with no choice.”
“Forgive me for saying it out loud, but how stupid of you, Harry.” The older man’s response took him aback. He met the man’s eye, and he felt his heart sink slightly as he received a look of disapproval from the man.
“For all instances, you would have been dead.” He continued. “It is a miracle you are alive. Dementors are not creatures that should be taken lightly. You will be nothing more than an empty vessel. They suck your soul out and leave you a drooling brain dead mess. You would be as good as dead. I had been so very clear about these stunts. You think we make these rules for fun?”
‘Yep. Poppy and McGonagall are better to face than to face this man.’ Harry thought as he swallowed nervously. He had not seen Dumbledore this angry. He felt slightly ashamed that he was on the receiving end of his anger.
“I apologise.” He cleared his throat after a few moments of agonising silence. “That was unprofessional of me.” He said as he took a calming breath.
“No sir,” Harry replied quickly. “You were well within your rights to be angry, and I deserved it too. I should be the one apologising, and yes. I apologise.” Harry held the man’s eye, and Dumbledore nodded satisfactorily.
“Would it be too much if I asked you to cast it again?” Dumbledore questioned, his eyes glinting in curiosity. Harry nodded, placing the wand still held in his palm on the bed he was lying on and raising his hand.
“Expecto Patronum.” Dumbledore was surprised when Harry raised an empty palm, and his surprise increased when he watched the boy cast without the help of a wand. He was positively beaming when the spell did work without a wand as the now familiar thestral sprung out of his hand and came to a stop in front of the older man.
“Brilliant.” He whispered, basking in the feeling of the patronus. Dumbledore could not resist the urge to touch the ethereal figure. The patronus observed Dumbledore curiously before leaning forward and allowing him to feel it.
“Wonderful. It feels sentient. More so than the usual Patronuses that I have witnessed. I have never seen a Patronus like this before, Harry. Truly.” He didn’t look away from the patronus all the while.
“It seems to be a potent memory.” He glanced at Harry, his eyes lit with curiosity, and he received a nod. “Well, I suppose I have Professor Lupin to thank.” Harry nodded again as the Patronus pranced away from the Hospital Wing.
The doors to the Hospital Wing were pushed open, and Harry observed as the Minister of Magic, accompanied by three more people, walked in. And just like that, Harry noticed Dumbledore’s face drastically turn. This time, he saw the man’s face contort into pure anger.
“I don’t care what you do, Cornelius. I don’t care about any of your motives. You will take the Dementors out of Hogwarts by the end of the day. That is non-negotiable.” His tone held an air of finality. His voice was stoic, but anybody with a barely functioning brain cell could understand the warning in the man’s tone.
“But Dumbledore….Black….” The Headmaster held up his hand, halting the man mid-sentence.
“Sirius Black is your issue to focus on, Cornelius. I have no qualms with how you deal with it. But not in Hogwarts. There won’t be any more Dementors at Hogwarts. Period. I will not be endangering my students at any cost.”
“Despite your assurances, the Dementors were seen out of their positions. They attacked young Mr Potter here in the forest close to the castle. Timely interference saved him, or else you would have been chucked out of your office by daybreak today. “
Dumbledore seemed to have hit the jackpot because Harry observed the man blanch at his words. The man turned to face him and shook his head. “You understand I had to deploy the Dementors for his safety.”
“I remember telling you that bringing the Dementors out of Azkaban was unnecessary, but you casually ignored my suggestion and placed them amongst students. Is this the kind of solution we can expect from you, Cornelius? Could you see yourself in the office if his father was alive?” Dumbledore questioned. “You would have been dragged through the mud, and your life would have been a living hell had James Potter caught wind of this brilliant idea of yours.”
Harry was surprised—his father and politics? At times, he felt ashamed that he knew little about his family. He never understood why somebody wouldn’t tell him about all of this. On the other hand, he was the one who was supposed to be asking questions, and to his shame, he didn’t do so, not that it would have mattered. Who was he supposed to go and ask?
“You might be the Minister of Magic, Cornelius, but remember that you are in Hogwarts, and what I say goes in Hogwarts. Have I made myself clear?” The portly man nodded stiffly, his face red with embarrassment. “I would be willing to work with you, Cornelius and those will be with certain obligations. I would not have permitted this nonsense had I not seen the danger that Sirius Black posed to Mr. Potter. In hindsight, I made a grave mistake. I endangered hundreds of students trying to keep Mr Potter safe, and in the end, the presence of the Dementors ended up being a bane for the one you deployed them for.”
“Sirius Black is your concern, Minister. Not mine, nor Hogwarts’s. If he does show up here, don’t think for a second that I would let him harm my students.” The man gave a curt nod before walking out of the room briskly, not sparing a glance at Harry.
“Sorry, you had to see that. I think you should be resting.” He stood and began to move out of the Hospital wing but paused. “Oh. A hundred points for Gryffindor. I imagine Minerva and Filius would be overjoyed by what you managed to display.”
“Professor?” Harry held out the wand. “Your wand.” Dumbledore frowned, his eyes watching the wand for a moment. “Not anymore.” He returned towards Harry’s bed and held out his hand.
“Indulge me for a moment.” Harry handed over the wand back to Dumbledore.
He then proceeded to wave his wand in several circles, and Harry watched as the man twirled his wand gracefully. A beautiful silver phoenix left his wand, flying around the Hospital Wing. The phoenix flew up to Harry and, to his shock, spoke. “It works just fine.” It whispered in Dumbledore’s voice. The man chuckled at the bewildered expression of the young man.
“A rather ingenious invention of mine, wouldn’t you say?” He questioned as he dispelled his charm.
“That is your creation?” Harry questioned the man, and Dumbledore nodded, expression one of pride. “Came in rather handy during the last war.”
“Back to the matter, though, the wand works perfectly fine. Normal, I would say, but for some reason, it seems reluctant.” Dumbledore pulled out another wand from within his robes. He handed the wand over to Harry. “Go on, try it. You will understand what I mean.”
Harry complied, and as he prepared to cast, he felt the wand trying to persuade him not to use it. He immediately felt the urge to place the wand away. “I feel it strongly, sir,” Harry muttered, staring at the wand. “It is begging me to put it away.”
“Exactly. Wandlore is not something I can pride upon knowing, Harry—one of the branches of magic that I find very difficult and vague. It is the reason why there are so few wandmakers in the world. This form of magic is just not for anybody. But as much as I know, a wand won out of another’s hand is as good as yours.” Harry frowned in confusion.
“I understand your confusion, and believe me, there is little I could do that will clear it up for you. But I can confidently agree that the wand you just disarmed from me has changed its alliance. It now listens to you.” Harry and Dumbledore exchanged wands, and once again, as soon as Harry came in contact with the wand, his eyes went pitch black.
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. “I do have a question, though.” Harry looked up from the wand. "Do you know the story of the three brothers?" Harry shook his head."Sir?"
"From the Tales of Beedle the Bard?" Once again, the answer was negative. Dumbledore chuckled. "Never mind. Read that book, would you?" He suggested. “You will surely find it interesting.”
Harry’s eyes drifted back to the wand. “What are you not telling me, Professor?” Harry questioned.
“I feel like you are purposely trying to leave out a few details. Why is it?” Dumbledore hummed.
“I did leave out a few details. But this one is on you. Believe me; this will be very interesting if you uncover this wand's details. I omitted a few details because this wand is closely associated with you. More closely than you can think. I have a clue as to what the dark eyes of yours mean. I think it was meant to be found out by you.”
“Don’t worry, my boy,” Dumbledore reassured Harry. “You will be pleased when you know what that wand signifies. Trust me on that.”
“I better get back before Madam Pomfrey is back.” He nodded at the young man and left quickly.
Harry twirled the wand in between his fingers. He lost a wand and gained one back immediately. He had no idea what the man meant at the end of their conversation, but for now, that was fine. He laid back on the bed and let out a deep sigh.
His mind drifted back to the dream he had seen. He didn’t know if he was to call it a dream. He recognised the voices from the last night when he was with Sirius. They were similar to the one he had dreamt about. Or was that just his imagination? No, he was sure the voices he spoke to yesterday and dreamt about today were the same. What they signify, he didn’t know.
“It is good to know that you can stay put, Potter. I half expected you to be out of this place by now.” Harry smirked. “Come on, Madam Pomfrey. I don’t have a death wish now, do I?” He questioned as he sat up. The aged matron huffed. “Pull the other one, Potter. I can see right through it. I have been accustomed to two generations of Potters.”
“I don’t know what your problem is with potions, Potter. It was the same with Charlus and the same with James.”
“Charlus?” Harry’s face scrunched in confusion, causing the woman to snort disbelievingly.
“Not funny anymore, Potter.” Madam Pomfrey hesitated, seeing the expression on his face.
“Seriously, Harry. You don’t know your Grandfather?”Harry shook his head negatively.
“For some reason, nobody saw fit to talk to me about these things.” He growled. Not knowing the name of his Grandfather was shameful for Harry.
“Oh….” Poppy whispered, allowing the boy to gather his thoughts. “I am sorry you had to learn about it this way.” She continued. “I assumed that you knew about him and your Grandmother Dorea.”
“Well, no time like the present.” She smiled softly and sat across from his bed.
“Charlus, Minerva, Augusta Longbottom, young Neville’s Grandmother, Joseph Bones, Arcturus Black, your Great Uncle. We went to Hogwarts together.”
“Archie and Dorea were Slytherins, and this was when this Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry escalated. So, it was just the four of us. We were the only Gryffindors from that batch, which probably brought us too close to each other.” Harry listened with rapt attention.
“Charlus was a rascal.” She smiled fondly. “He was easygoing and fun, not to mention too brilliant for his good. He would barely study and could still trump whoever he wanted to, and however he wanted to. Your grandfather was the best wizard I have had the privilege to witness.” She praised.
“Charlus, who was fun and easygoing, changed drastically after his father's death. The Charlus we knew grew up way too quickly after that. He was just fifteen when he was forced to take up his position as the lord of the Potters, and that was the end of his childhood.”
“It was sad to see him grow up so quickly. One day, he was the same Charlus we all knew, and in two months, he was not the same anymore. He had changed. Solemn, brooding and withdrawn. He always made time for us. That is what made Charlus special. The three of us always had his attention and his time. We could wake up in the middle of the night and approach him, and he will answer. ” She said, looking back at Harry.
“And just like that, we grew up. We were not kids anymore. Though we would have arrived at the realisation soon enough, Charlus and his situation invariably led to us maturing earlier than necessary. Dealing with the family issues probably led to it, but as soon as schooling was done, Charlus signed up for the war against Grindelwald.”
“Your Great-grandfather was killed on the frontlines. Word got around pretty quickly that Grindelwald personally saw to his death, and that got to him more than necessary.” She whispered sadly.
“If not for your great-grandmother, nothing would have stopped Charlus from going into the war the day after his father’s death, but he was made to see reason. That didn’t mean he had given it up. We realised that our best friend would go to the frontlines of a bloody war and would fight against a man who had brought Europe to its knees.”
“It was then that we witnessed what a serious Charlus Potter could do.” She continued. “He was powerful. I did tell you that. What we were not expecting was the ruthless side to his character.”
“I have never seen a man so stubborn than Charlus. Once he decides on something, he does not pause until the job is finished. The job might take his life for all he cares, but he would see that the job is completed.” She shook her head in frustration. “He was a prat, but he was our prat.” She replied fondly.
“The final nail in the coffin was the death of his mother.” She continued. “That did it. He was barely out of school. He was destined to carry the legacy with your name and trust me, Potter. The name Potter carries a lot of responsibility and weight.” She looked at the young man seriously.
“Charlus never had difficulty managing the Potter Lordship. He was born to be the Lord of the Potters. But his desire always remained on the frontline. When his mother passed, he knew that he had to go. He felt empty, and all he wished to do was go and fight. Noting could stop him, and he left.”
“Your Grandfather was made for big things, Potter.” She chuckled. “Less than four years on the frontlines, and he was appointed the commander of the English troops. Let me tell you, that sent waves in and around the world. There wasn’t a day that passed without the papers praising Chalrus. There wasn’t a day when people didn’t thank him every night that Chalrus Potter was keeping them safe. In times of darkness, he became the light many wanted him to be. They hope they will have something since he was standing there.”
Harry could not help but be awed by what he was hearing. He had never thought much about his Grandparents. Who was going to tell him? The Dursleys would never. The Weasleys didn’t. Dumbledore didn’t. How was he supposed to learn about them when nobody bothered to let him know?
“The arrival of Dorea brought meaning into Charlus’s life.” She continued. “It was love at first sight.” She chuckled. “Charlus was two years senior to your Grandmother. They never really moved in the same circles politically and were principally on opposite sides of political agendas. It was outside of Hogwarts where they met for the first time.”
“The Black family has always been a family that was notorious for following the ways of the old.” She said. “They had certain expectations from the members of their families. Being a healer was not one of them. Dorea Black didn’t care. For some reason, she was fixated on her aspiration of becoming a healer. Arcturus Black, her brother, was all for her decision.”
“Imagine my surprise when the Black heiress of all people was appointed as my assistant when I was in St Mungo’s. ”
“I was wary of her, and so were the rest of the healers in St Mungo’s. You need to understand that this was Dorea Black we are talking about—the woman from the Black family. For the first month, none would dare speak up to her. But Dorea paid no heed. Being the professional she was, she took it in stride to make it seem like she was another healer among us. Obedient, less spoken, always willing to learn. I made an extraordinary friend in Dorea.” The aged matron sighed softly, shooting a faraway look towards the window.
“The next thing we know, me and Dorea, along with five more healers, were sent to the war front. Charlus had requested me personally, and I answered his call. We were immediately put to work as the injured were brought in. We went about our business, patching up and dealing with the soldiers. It was then that Charlus limped in.” She shuddered slightly, the memory of that day coming to the forefront of her mind.
“He was covered in blood from head to toe. He had a deep gash on his shoulder and his right arm, and he was limping badly. His presence was terrifying and yet awe-inspiring. That there was a man who stood tall and proud, defending his people with every drop of blood he possessed.”
“Like I pointed out earlier, Chalrus had that aura around him—an aura of a very powerful man.” She smiled slightly. “I still remember that day as clear as crystal.”
“The camp went quiet as he trudged up into the medical tents. Being the noble fool he was, he casually ignored the mess that was his body and gave instructions, talked to his people, and asked them about their situation. I was surprised that nobody dared to stop the man and tell him he was losing much blood. Nobody until your Grandmother stepped up.”
A full-blown grin decorated her face. “Dorea walked up to the man, blocked his path, looked him in the eye and without a word, began dragging the man to the nearest bed for his treatment.”
“The medical wing froze in shock and surprise. Somebody dared to touch Charlus Potter and pull him around like a first-year Hogwarts student. When the second in command made to display his anger at what was happening, Dorea rounded upon the man, and two minutes later, the man felt like a first-year Hogwarts student.” She chuckled fondly.
“She gave him a dressing down that he would never forget.” She said, chuckling again as she remembered what went down that day. Harry couldn’t help but smile as the woman relived the tale of his Grandmother meeting his Grandfather for the first time. “She seemed to be a powerful woman,” Harry said, imagining the scenario.
“Oh, she had to be. Nobody else could have settled with your Grandfather if not for her. She had that ability to silence the man like nobody else could.”
“I will lend a memory for you.” She promised. “You will love to see it, I am sure.” Harry nodded readily. He had no idea what the woman meant when she told him she would give him a memory. On the other hand, he had learnt not to question many things regarding the magical world.
“Charlus was impressed.” She continued. “Not many people gave him the feeling of being normal after he took up his Lordship. He was put on a pedestal when he stepped into the Wizengamot at fifteen. Every Lord in the Wizengamot wanted his support irrespective of his ideology and being the youngest. They were always around him, hoping to get the man to agree. He never had a moment of respite. That did not change even after he left for the war front. His position in the highest society increased gradually with his appointment as the Commander of British forces. He already had a lot of power. The Potters are one of the oldest magical families ever to have lived in magical Britain, long before the arrival and rise of many pureblood families. They were natives of the land, which warranted much respect, power and fear.”
“He craved peace. For normalcy and quiet, something he had never been accustomed to for a long time. Being lonely is not easy and certainly not peaceful. Although he was always around people, he was well and truly alone. That is why he left for the war in the first place. A lord of an ancient family should keep his family first. But his family was dead. He had nobody. Instead of looking to grow his line like many expected and hoped, he went straight to the war. ” She explained.
“When Dorea dragged the man casually like any other patient and put him down for treatment, he felt normal. His eyes never left her face, and I knew that moment that Charlus was taken with the woman. The nerve of your grandmother should be considered admirable. She knew he was looking. She knew him but remained unfazed and easily ignored the man.” She snorted.
“I had never seen Charlus being interested in the opposite sex in his time at Hogwarts. He had no time for that and never got time for something like that after Hogwarts. Dorea captured his eyes at first sight, and Charlus was in love. The interesting fact was that Charlus knew she was the one. He knew he was in love with the girl, which was no mere attraction. Men are usually thick-headed, and matters of love are not one field where they excel, barring a few rare cases. He was one of them.”
“He would make sure to visit the medical tent every day in the hopes of seeing her. He thought he was being discreet, but he wasn’t. The British camps were well aware of their commander’s love interest, and though none mentioned it, none were surprised.”
“The Charlus that we all hoped to see in Hogwarts but never got to see was found in the middle of a war.” She whispered sadly. “We never thought Charlus would be interested in such small details regarding his life. Winning the war was the only thing that mattered to him. He was lost to an extent.”
“It was repetitive. Every day, your grandfather would work up the courage to talk to her and yet, he would chicken out at the last moment; so much for being a Gryffindor. He told me that she was imposing.” She snorted. “Dorea was imposing. Her name only added to that, but it was not enough to scare away someone like him.” She explained.
“What he didn’t know were the similar feelings being replicated by Dorea. Your Grandmother revealed years after their marriage to your grandfather, but she was attracted to Charlus from the moment the two met.”
“The men that Dorea grew up around and the men she was accustomed to seeing in Slytherin were different from what she saw in Charlus. As I told you before, Dorea and Arcturus were unlike the other Blacks we had grown up learning. Their perspectives were different, their principles were different, and their ideology was different. They were everything their ancestors were and more, which led your Grandmother to pursue Charlus. He, like her, was everything that a powerful man was supposed to be and more. The more part was what captured her heart.” She smiled.
“Attraction developed further into love, and the moment the war ended, the two married.” She continued. “It was fun to see the two of them, but we were relieved that Charlus had another important aspect in his life, one that was his future.”
“Two years in the war with her, we watched Charlus experience everything he had missed in his school life. Charlus smiled a lot after he met Dorea. He smiled genuinely. He had found another purpose in his life—somebody with whom he possessed a future. Believe me when I say this, but Charlus needed somebody desperately. Everything was the war to Charlus, and once the war was over, there was nothing he could return to—no father, mother, brother or sister. He didn’t step into the Potter Manor after his mother’s death. He moved straight into the war field, and when he returned to Britain, it was with your Grandmother as his wife. They never did part, even in death. Charlus and Dorea lived together and died together.”
“It would take days together if we continue to talk about the two of them.” Madam Pomfrey sighed wistfully. “I have to get back to my work.” She observed as his shoulders dropped slightly in disappointment. “On that note, whenever you feel like you want to talk, I will always be available.” Harry smiled at the woman, nodding to her request.
“Rest, Harry.” She began walking away from his bed. “You will be released tonight.”
“That was interesting,” Harry whispered, leaning back in bed. He learnt a lot today. Something that he was supposed to do in the first place when he came to Hogwarts. His Grandfather seemed to be a man of myth. He was too good to be true. The fact that he knew so little about his family and his supposed heritage, which seems to be a heavy issue, was shameful.
His mind returned to the words of Sirius from the previous night. He was confused when he mentioned something about his heir's ring. Probably something that had to do with his family. He couldn’t wait to see the man as soon as possible. He had a lot of questions waiting to be answered, and he needed to get them.
Harry casually ignored the lingering thought that he had forgotten something. Something very important as he drifted off to sleep.
BREAK
“Didn’t Williams tell us it was an hour from the village?” Antioch questioned. “I think we have walked far away from Godric’s Hollow, brother.” It was snowing heavily, covering any evidence of activity.
“I wonder how the non-magicals cope with the cold?” Ignotus muttered as he surveyed his surroundings. “The weather has gotten worse in the past fortnight. Poor souls.”
Being around the non-magical population present abundantly in Godric’s Hollow, they were accustomed to the ways of the commons. Personally, Ignotus pitied the commoners. His kind was blessed with the ability of magic, which made their life a hundredfold better than the non-magical.
“I feel them.” Cadmus Peverell whispered as he stopped the two brothers from going forward. “They are close by, brothers. I can feel their presence.” The young men came across a barbed gate with a lone house down the land. The continuous snowfall erased any presence of a pathway.
“Strong barriers,” Ignotus warned as they paused in their stride. With his palm, he felt an invisible barrier surrounding the land ahead. “I feel like there is a way to get them to come out.” He thrust his hand forward and clicked his fingers; a smoky grey glow enveloped his palm for a few moments.
“They will be here.” He pointed out, pulling his palm back.
“What was that, Ignotus? Did you try to get their attention?” Antioch questioned.
“We should have sneaked in and taken them by surprise. Williams did mention that they were more in numbers.”
“Come on,” Ignotus smirked as he turned to face his brother.”You are scared of numbers, Brother?”
Cadmus smirked as he stood next to Ignotus. “Look at that, Antioch Peverell, of all people, scared of numbers.” A jovial lilt to his tone took away the seriousness of the eldest of the three, who shook his head, smirking back.
“You might be all grown up, Ignotus, but don’t forget that I am still your elder brother, and I will not hesitate to smack you when you decide to get cheeky with me.” The older brother said, sharing a laugh with his brothers.
“Just keep calm, Antioch,” Ignotus assured the man, placing a hand on his elder brother’s shoulder.
“We should get father, and that is it. Everything else is not our concern for now, understand?” Antioch nodded with a sigh. It didn’t take long for Ignotus’s action to bear fruit. A group of men walked briskly down from the house. They could not see their father among the group of people.
“Father is not being brought here,” Cadmus whispered as the three young men waited patiently for the arrival of the men. The younger brothers could sense the unease of their older brother. He was jittering, his anger increasing with every step those men took. Ignotus knew it was only a matter of time before Antioch did something hasty.
“Wait.” He whispered, grabbing his brother’s arm and preventing him from reacting. “Keep calm.”
Five men arrived at the other side of the barbed wire. “What do you want?” A man questioned from the other side, his voice muffled by the scarf covering his lower face. “Why have you ventured far away from the village? This area is not suitable for commuting.” He explained.
“You have someone significant to us captive,” Ignotus spoke, watching the men closely.
“Ah…Peverells.” The man chuckled, his companions joining him. “Come in, gentlemen.” He waved his hand in a simple swiping motion and beckoned the three of them inside.
“Come. Your father has been waiting for you.” The Peverells followed the group inside as they trudged towards the farmhouse. As expected, they were met with many more men inside the house. The brothers looked around in haste and located their father seated further in the room, his hands and legs tied. They rushed up to the man and knelt nearby.
“Father?” Antioch whispered as he shook the man gently by his shoulder. They got a good look at the man for the first time since coming in, and he was injured badly. Cuts and bruises adorned his face, and he was bleeding considerably. His breathing was laboured, and Cadmus immediately went to task as he began treating his face, healing the several wounds on his face.
“That is not polite, young man. You can’t come into another’s house and do as you please.” The three brothers stood at the voice behind them and faced who seemed like the instigator of this madness. “I thought Peverell here had taught better manners to his sons.”
“Do your job, Cadmus,” Antioch muttered as he stepped ahead. “My father is injured. My brother will heal him. I would like to see anybody try and stop him.”
The tall and well-built man standing in front of them chuckled. He was taller than they were, probably close to seven feet tall, and very bulky. His face was stoic, and the chuckle on his face only added to his dominating personality. The man was an impressive presence.
It was hard to miss, but he gave a subtle nod to one of his henchmen who made to attack the Peverells, only for his hands to light up in flames. The man screamed in pain and stepped back hastily, his hands burnt to a crisp.
“My elder brother made it clear that Father is being healed. He warned about any interruptions. He was not joking. We don’t joke when it comes to my father.” Ignotus’s voice was barely above a whisper, but he was heard. He made sure that he was heard clearly.
“My father has managed to teach us manners, Mr Cook.” Antioch broke in. “If not, I would have burned down this place and the people within seeing what was done to my father.”
“Look around, gentlemen.” Cook cut in as he waved his hand in an arc. “Are you in any position to make threats?” He questioned. “You are outnumbered in another man’s place, and you are trying very hard to give trouble to said owner of the place.”
The Peverells ignored the man's ramblings, returning to face their brother, who revived their father. They observed the man come to his senses slowly, sitting in his seat. He blinked a few times, trying to gather his thoughts, when his eyes fell on his sons.
“What are you boys doing?” He questioned. “Williams had us worried, Father,” Antioch spoke, relief evident. “Why are you held hostage here?” He questioned.
“Mr Cook here was rather adamant that I meet him for some reason.” He began. “Williams was unsure about me going alone, and he accompanied me. Is he alright, the poor guy?” Cadmus nodded. “I made sure that he was fine before coming here.”
The older man smiled at his son. “Good.” He turned back to his adversary, looking at them in disdain. “I warned you that you can’t keep for long if my sons turn up. Whatever your scheme was, you should have finished it without their knowledge, Mr Cook.”
“I warned you a while back and will warn you again. If you value your life, you better not step foot into Godric’s Hollow as a factionist. There is no space for that nonsense in my village.” He stood up, taking his son’s arm as a support.
“My sons will let you live today, Cook. This is no fear. The fact that I have only my sons for my protection amidst all of your men and in your place should tell you enough.”
He began walking towards the exit, closely followed by his sons, not sparing another glance at the man. The three brothers shared a single question in their thoughts. ‘What did the man want?’ Father would tell them later they decided together. For now, they had to return home.
Ignotus looked for any attack and turned back once to check on the man and his troop. Cook seemed unfazed. His eyes never wavered from the four, but he didn’t react apart from a smirk. A challenging smirk adorned the man’s face that was supposed to be unsettling, but it only spurred Ignotus to remember his father’s condition when they arrived. He didn’t know why it happened, but rage filled his every vein.
He paused mid-stride and turned back. With an angry snarl, he raised his hands and clapped them together. A wave of energy was pushed out of his body. The wave spread across the room, and the moment it came in contact with the place's walls, a whizzing sound broke the room's silence.
Fire broke out from the house's walls without warning, surprising the men inside. The flames grew in ferocity and began to spread heavily. The men inside the house tried to douse the flame to no avail. The men tried everything they could, each trying hard to extinguish the fire. It was of no use.
Ignotus caught the eye of the man, who was the reason for his anger. “Let me assure your safety, Mr Cook. None of you or your men will be harmed. You have my word. But the same cannot be said of this place of yours.” He waved his arm in an arc, indicating the flames.
“That was for touching my father.” He said, turning away and walking out of the room.
“You will regret this, Peverell.” The man’s voice was surprisingly devoid of any emotion. “You will regret your actions from today.” His tone diminished as he stepped out of the house to his waiting father and brothers.
“Shall we?” He asked as he stepped close to his father and put an arm around the shoulders of the man. The four men silently walked away, a burning farmhouse in their wake. Neither questioned the other, nor did they have any intention of such. Now was not the place and time for it.
Harry felt himself slipping out of his sleep into the land of living. He sat up and sighed as he took in the surroundings of the medical wing. This was the second dream today. He shook his head, still trying to determine what it was supposed to be, to end up with no answer.
He lay back in bed, glad there was no witness to his actions. He closed his eyes once more, reminiscing the events of the day and the day before. Harry sat up in a flash as his eyes widened with recognition.
“Ron and Hermione.”
TBC—---
