Hadrianpotterpeverell
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THE VEELA AND HER LION
🕑 Added 2022-09-03 09:43:59 +0000 UTCChapter 3- Iolanthe Peverell
“He made his move then.” Harry whispered as he sat down at the dining table for his breakfast. Dobby had just delivered his newspaper and there across the headlines was the news that the Death Eaters attacked at the Quidditch World Cup. All this indicated one thing. Something bad was going to happen this year.
He hoped that the Weasley’s got away safe. He would feel bad if something happened to them. Harry liked the Weasleys. Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, the twins and Ron. They were good people. He heard movement and sure enough, Narcissa and Sirius stepped into the dining room.
Sirius got back the same day that Harry brought Narcissa home from Malfoy Manor. The woman had been extremely thankful to him. She had been extremely sad for the first few days. Sirius being here helped a lot. The two cousins have helped each other since they arrived. Sirius helped Narcissa by just being around for her and she helped him come out of his dreaded state.
Sirius had gained back some color to his skin after all those years on that dreaded island. Harry liked having the elderly figures around him. Sirius was all fun and mischief and Narcissa was regal, charming and well behaved.
Sirius was a kid and Narcissa was the strict and exasperated mother and in a way, it was funny and amusing to see.
“Morning.” He greeted and was greeted by the two of them.
“You really need to sleep more and drink less, Sirius.” Narcissa admonished. Sirius groaned as he clutched his head in his hands. He somehow had managed to get his hands on the stash that he and his dad kept. He had not bothered asking him how he even managed to hide it from his grandmother and mother.
Dorea’s portrait had been very happy to see the two, though Sirius was reluctant to meet the woman. It had taken two weeks to convince the Black lord to steel up and see her. He couldn’t stop thinking that she would not forgive him. Dorea was ecstatic to see him and it was a tearful affair. Harry was glad that the man seemed to be getting better with every passing day. Narcissa was a big factor in helping him along the way and slowly, his eyes had begun to gain back the life that it had lost.
Harry had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of his Godfather, but also had to control a wave of annoyance. He was drinking himself ragged and that didn’t bode well with Harry. He hoped that he would soon get better. He would hate to see the man get drunk and bury his sorrows. He had to free the man. Yes, Potter Manor was extremely pleasant, but still, there was nobody over here and it tended to get boring for the man.
He lit a cigar as he was lost deep in thought. His head had slipped back to the headlines. Peter Pettigrew might have gone back to him. Was he there yesterday?
“Harry!?” He was brought out of his musings by Narcissa. “What are you doing? At the dining table and early in the morning?” She chastised.
Harry pushed the newspaper towards the two of them and their expressions darkened considerably. “It is beginning.” He said and stood up.
“Things will escalate very quickly. I am certain of that. I am pretty sure that your ex-husband was over there too.” He said with Narcissa nodding quickly.
“I want you two in the training room after breakfast.” He said, walking to the entrance of the dining room. “I want to see what the legendary Black magic constitutes.” He smirked.
He was genuinely surprised when the two of them smirked back at him.
“Oh…” Narcissa stood up. “You are that desperate to be put down so badly, Potter?” She had that arrogant tone of hers back in place and Sirius’s smirk could not be any cockier.
“Are you sure you want to fight the Blacks in the Black family magic, kiddo? I really don’t think you would like it, Harry.”
“Scared, Black?” He questioned with a wink before blowing out a puff of smoke.
“Ok…You better take that outside the dining room, Harry or I am grounding you.” Narcissa ordered.
Harry seemed to think of saying something, but one look at her face was enough to know that she would probably ground him.
“I am leaving just because I am done with my breakfast.” He pointed out before leaving the room to the two Blacks.
—-&&&----
“I don’t fucking believe it. No way. No fucking way.” Sirius Black could not stop muttering the same thing again and again much to Narcissa’s irritation and Harry’s amusement.
“Sirius! Stop it.” She groaned as she stared unimpressively at her cousin.
“But…but…I am an Auror for God’s sake. Trained by Mad Eye Moody. He is a squirt. He is a kid.”
Harry’s indignant voice was quick to reply. “Hey! That is exactly why you lost so quickly.”
It was true. The two Blacks had decided to go on with the challenge Harry had thrown and had agreed to duel with him. The duel had started with the cousins versus Harry and here they were, five minutes later with the two Blacks wandless and bound one next to the other.
“You were lax and ignorant, Sirius.” Dorea chuckled from her portrait. Harry had brought and spelled another one of those portraits and she could now travel between them. He had needed a lot of help with his training.
“Harry is not someone you take lightly, Sirius. His patronus should have been enough to let you know that.” Dorea said.
Narcissa was taken aback by that.
“You can do a patronus?” She questioned; her eyes wide with surprise.
Harry nodded.
“But he is a kid. I knew he was good, but he is better than Mad Eye Moody. Uncle Charlus was not this good and he was the most powerful wizard I had ever seen." Sirius replied with conviction.
Dorea smiled. "Charlus grew into his abilities later on, Sirius. When his responsibilities grew. When he had to go fight to avenge his father. He was a normal boy till he had to grow up eventually and almost expectantly." She pointed out.
"That was his choice. He could have just learnt the Hogwarts curriculum and still be a very good wizard. Who would dare question him?" Sirius snorted
"I would like to dare anybody to question Uncle Charlus." He chuckled.
"But Harry has no choice. Not in that Riddle boy's matter. He has one of the most powerful dark lords on his back, breathing down his neck. He is the last of this illustrious family and he has to be ruthless and intelligent enough to maneuver among this political clout that Narcissa just explained."
"You are not exonerated yet and Narcissa can only do so much. And he needs all the help he can get, Sirius. And for that, he needs you." She explained.
"If not you, he has nobody to lean on." She said.
"You have had your share of difficulties, Sirius. Twelve years at that place is not something I would ever wish on anyone, let alone my blood. But I want you to get up and dust yourself off and move on." She ordered.
"Your godson will work on freeing you. Leave that to him. You get back in shape. Stop washing yourself in alcohol and concentrate on getting better."
There was silence in the room with none speaking a word for some time.
"We are Blacks, Sirius. However much averted you are to all our beliefs or our ways, you are a Black. And we Blacks, take family as our priority. I say this as your aunt and as a Black not as a Potter. Protect your Godson with everything you can spare. Lay down your life for him if it's necessary. Do your duty as a father to his son."
"Your word, Sirius." Dorea broke another round of silence. "I want your word."
Sirius stood up, having been freed from his state on the floor.
"You have my word, Aunt Dorea." He said with no doubts in his words and left the room.
Harry stares at his Godfather as he lights another cigar. He hears Narcissa tut at him, but he didn't care.
"No wonder he was in Gryffindor. Loyalty just oozes out of him in spades." He pointed out.
“Nobody could believe that the heir of the Blacks was a Gryffindor. And I was pretty sure that Sirius himself didn’t believe it. He was different from the rest of us. He was mischievous and straight more than the cunning that should have been seen in us Blacks. Maybe he was cunning, but he never made it out so that others could see it. Maybe he was always the closet Slytherin.” Narcissa said.
Harry nodded at that. Sirius had been very much predictable until now, but if he surprises him, he will really be happy. He was expecting to be surprised and shocked.
—--&&&-----
Sirius Black had directly flooed into his account manager, Barchoke’s office. He had requested the presence of the man and he needed to meet with him.
“Sirius Black.” The aged goblin greeted him and Sirius bowed. “Account Manager Barchoke.”
The goblin gestured for him to take a seat. Sirius took a deep breath.
“I am ready, Barchoke.”
The Goblin’s smile could be considered extremely scary for anybody who was meeting him for the first time. But Sirius knew. Barchoke was a very old goblin and he had been their account manager for a long time now.
“I see that heir of yours has gotten through to your thick head.” The Goblin grunted. Sirius nodded.
“Very well. If you would be so kind as to accompany me to your vault.” Sirius was led down to the vaults by his account manager. He reached the huge double doors feeling nostalgic.
He steeled himself. He had to do this for his sake. For the sake of his godson. For his future. What Dorea said was true. He had to step up and get out of the trench hole he had fallen in. It was time to look forward.
“Toujours Pur.” He whispered and the doors opened revealing the vaults of the Black family.
It had been ages since he had stepped into this vault and he felt chills in his backbone as he stepped into it. The wealth had multiplied. Gold galleons sat in spades almost covering half of the vault. Sirius walked over to where the Lord ring was supposed to be on a pedestal and sure enough, the ring he had last seen in the hands of his Grandfather Arcturus sat there proudly.
“I had never ever imagined that I would put this on.” He muttered as he stared at the ring. He took a deep breath and nodded with conviction. He took the ring and slowly placed it on his finger. He felt his body hum with magic and he felt refreshed.
“There. Nothing special.” He drawled as he looked over his body seeing if anything was happening.
“Lord Black. Congratulations.” Barchoke wished the man. “I have a few documents that need your attention. You can owl it back to Gringotts after it is done.” Sirius nodded.
“Thank you.” He nodded and he walked to the lobby. It was empty otherwise he surely would have been spotted. He really didn’t want to be caught now. He exited the bank flooing away as he left for Potter Manor.
He arrived in the lobby of the manor and didn’t go inside. He stepped out of the manor and began walking to the beach behind the manor. It was a very bright morning and it was really hot. Summers around Potter Manor were very pleasant with the beach nearby. He remembered the summers spent on the beach with James, Remus and Peter.
Peter. He chuckled sadly as he remembered the boy Peter was. He was innocent and mischievous. He was a very good friend. All the wonderful times they had spent together. A brother in arms. They were as thick as thieves.
A sad tear rolled down his cheek as he dropped on the sand. He let the water splash onto him as the waves washed towards him gently.
“We were so good, Pete. Why did you have to do this?” He asked nobody in particular.
“What did we do? What wrong did we ever do to you? What did Harry ever do?” He whispered.
“Our future went down into the dumps because of one decision of yours. Everything we wanted to build just tumbled down because of you.” He sniffed.
He stared at the ocean in front of him. “None of it matters, Wormtail.” He whispered as he stood up. “None of it matters anymore.” He said.
“The next time I lay my hands on you, will be to kill you. I swear upon my name as Sirius Black.” He vowed. He watched the waves crash onto the beach for some time. He never understood why this place was peaceful. He probably never will, but he didn’t need to know. He will just leave it be and enjoy this place as much as possible.
—-&&&------
Harry closed another book in annoyance. Why was he unable to find anything regarding this topic? Where else could he go for reference?
He was of course referring to his wand. He felt like pulling out his hair in confusion. He did make use of Dumbledore’s information and he got an answer instantly.
‘The Deathly Hallows.’
This information, was to his amazement and surprise, in a children’s book. The tale of three brothers. It was a story a little far-fetched, but right now, he really needed to know more about that. Was it really an artifact that was gifted from Death itself?
When he understood that the legendary cloak belonged to his family, he knew that these artifacts were not a figment of someone’s imagination. He had checked the family tree in his study.
Hardwin Potter had married Iolanthe Peverell. She was the only family member he could neither make heads or tails of. That was the first marriage that happened in the Potter family. So, he dwelled more into the likes of the Peverell family. To his disappointment, there was no information that he obtained that was helpful.
There was no information regarding this family at all. Not a single book. Not a single scroll or parchment. The only noticeable information was the logo.
A line inscribed inside a triangle which was inscribed inside a circle. The symbol was also used by the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald during his reign of terror.
Harry understood how the wand had ended up with Dumbledore. There were various books describing the legendary duel between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald when the former came out victorious ending the darkest times in recent history.
The crest next to the name of Iolanthe Peverell was exactly the same. He deduced that these hallows must belong to the Peverell family, but that was it. There was no more information for him to find. He had been stuck at this point for many days and whenever his mind graced this subject, he would feel the urge to bang his head against the wall.
He frowned thoughtfully. The wand, had an extremely bloody history. Hundreds of heads had been beheaded just for this wand. That is what the story said and Harry didn’t dismiss the story anymore. It was not a figment of imagination.
That was confirmed when he read about the cloak. His invisibility cloak had been passed down from one generation to the other, just like he had received it from his father. This had been passed down in the Potter line since Iolanthe.
As he moved from one book to the other, his hand picked up a worn-out book from the pile he was looking through. MANIPULATING THE ELEMENTS. He turned the first page and his eyes bugged over when he read the name of the author. IOLANTHE PEVERELL
She had created a book of spells. He turned around the pages excitedly and was surprised by the things he read. The entire book was written about manipulating nature according to your wish in a fight. The elements that constitute nature were the driving force that worked all the magic here.
Harry pushed his chair back and stood up, his eyes not leaving the book. He walked to his training room and stood in the center, excited to get to work as soon as possible. But the very first spell he tried, resulted in nothing. He was disappointed. He began casting the spells again, and again, and again, but the end result remained the same.
The process began to irk Harry a lot. It was not the failure that was irritating the young man, but the sheer lack of response to his every attempt. He had not struggled to cast magic. Never. But this was disheartening. Why was his magic not responding to any of these spells?
He turned the pages of the book trying to discern the reason for this dilemma. He sighed sadly when he could find nothing wrong with the book, nor any information regarding the failure of casting magic. Just when he was about to place the book away, he felt something hard inside the cover of the book. He sliced the cover of the book and there was a worn yellowed out parchment that fell down.
Harry picked it up carefully. That thing just looked like it would tear off with just a sneeze. He placed it on the nearby table carefully and delicately opened the parchment. He squinted his eyes to read the tiny script on the parchment.
To the Potter who finds this book,
Hardwin was adamant on not letting me hide this book, but eventually, I won. You might wonder why I wanted to hide this book, but there are reasons. This book is not one for anybody else except a wielder. A wielder will be the only one who could use this magic and not at any minute cost. I know the first thing that pops into your head is that you should wield the wand that belonged to my Uncle, but no.
The wielder I refer to here is a Peverell, in extension, you, A Potter. A wielder by blood.
I am the last of my line, descendent. But I had to make sure that my magic remained inside the line.
But to awaken the magic that has been inert, you need to perform a ritual. A blood sacrifice.
The cost of this magic comes with a very heavy price to pay. This ritual requires a sacrifice of one of your emotions. You will stop feeling any kind of remorse. You will be giving up your ability to feel remorse if you perform the ritual. A small price to pay for learning a very beautiful piece of magic.
There is another issue that might disappoint you.
I tried so hard to do something about that, but I failed. I had to give that up. But remember, not feeling remorse is not bad all the time. You can feel no remorse and murder hundreds for the sake of pleasure or you can shed remorse and do the opposite by killing any for the sake of saving hundreds. I hope you choose the right thing.
The magic you would be learning from this is as destructive as it is beautiful. Elemental spells are a whole different variety compared to manipulating the elements. There is a reason why many would be unable to wield it. With this, you would be unstoppable. Learn it. Cherish it.
Iolanthe Potter nee Peverell
Harry sat back in his chair. Ok, now this was something new. A ritual to activate magic. To top it off, he would have no remorse. That will certainly ring alarm bells to the others if they learn of it, but the idea of learning lost magics appealed to him. Iolanthe was right. If he kept his senses, he had no need to be scared of sacrificing remorse.
“Dobby.” The hyperactive elf popped into the room. “I want you to get these things for me.”
“Yes, Master Harry.” The elf received the parchment that Harry had duplicated and popped away.
He then stepped up to the portrait of his Grandmother and tapped his wand. A few seconds later, his Grandmother arrived in the portrait.
“Harry?” She frowned. “What is the matter, dear?”
“Grandma. Is there a place where I can conduct a ritual?”
Dorea stared at Harry with surprise. She waited expectantly to hear more of it. Harry then began to explain what he had discovered and what the letter said. Dorea listened to everything intently, deep in thought. When Harry was done explaining, she sighed.
“Are you sure, Harry?” She questioned. Harry nodded with conviction.
“Every advantage I get over him is very important, Grandma. Moreover, it is my magic. My blood.” He pointed out.
Dorea relented. “Very well. There is a very old ritual room in the basement. Ask Dobby to clean the room and then, you can carry on with the ritual. When the ritual is being carried out, I want you to bring me over there. I need to be there and that is not negotiable, Harry.”
Harry had no other choice but to agree. Moreover, he needed her guidance.
“Yes Grandma.” Harry agreed.
—--&&&-----
Sirius dodged a blood boiling curse and followed up immediately with a blasting curse of his own. He didn’t remain idle. He followed up with an entrail expelling curse and a bone shredder. When all those curses were dissipated in their paths, he delved deeper. With a circular motion with his wand, three black coloured balls raced on with surprising speed.
Sirius had the counter curse ready as the curses struck true and he began walking forward. All of a sudden, a shrill whistling sound was heard and Sirius’s eyes widened beyond measure when all three black balls sped towards him at lightning speed. Sirius jumped back, his wand raised, but his mouth dropped when the balls coerced into a snake head and bared its fangs menacingly. That felt like a real snake and Sirius couldn’t think of a defense quick enough when the snake bared its fangs into his midsection, throwing him heavily against the wall.
Sirius groaned as he sat up when he was faced with a wand in his face. He gulped as he looked into the now all familiar wand. He then stared into the amused eyes of Harry.
“You would be dead.” He commented casually giving the man a hand to stand up
“Sorry, if not all of us are Merlin incarnates.” Sirius snarked, waving his wand over his injured hand. “Bloody hell pup, just how much did you work out these holidays? You have practiced a lot, Harry. Your spell work just shows how much. I have lost ten duels in the past half an hour and pardon me if I seem bragging, but I am no slouch with a wand, Harry.”
Harry snorted. Calling Sirius a slouch would be an understatement. He was a very powerful wizard, but Harry was no ordinary wizard anymore. Months or maybe years of practice and only practice had put him above the station of people like Sirius Black and many more Aurors. His Grandmother did tell him that he fought like his Grandfather in his prime and Harry could not be more proud of that fact.
“Bloody hell, you already fight better than Uncle Charlus, Harry.” Harry shrugged.
“This room is magical, Sirius.” Harry said as he waved his hand around the room.
“It has been more helpful than Hogwarts. And Grandpa has left a lot of his notes. A lot of them.”
“Yes.” Sirius nodded. “I can see him in you, Harry. I try to see James in you a lot, but you are just like your grandfather.” He smiled at Harry. “Well, I guess it is for the best.” He chuckled.
“But you are damn vicious, boy. He was not like this.” Harry shook his head and chuckled.
“Yeah. Just accept that you lost to a fourteen year old instead of giving excuses.” Harry shot back as the man glared.
“Forgive me, if my movements are still rusty from twelve years in Azkaban. I am still not quick enough.” Sirius whined petulantly.
“Of course.” Harry muttered blandly.
“Go and get some rest Sirius. I will see you later.” Sirius smiled and left the training room. Harry then approached his Grandmother’s now empty portrait and shrunk it out as he placed it in his pocket. He started downstairs to the basement of the manor. He had Dobby clean the place and start drawing a few runes on the floor. Today was the twenty ninth of August. And according to many books, the number belonged to a very special group of powerful numbers in Arithmancy along with three, seven, thirteen, seventeen, twenty three and twenty nine.
His Grandmother had insisted that he conduct the ritual today to obtain its full effects. Just like that, he had planned to do the ritual. He entered the square room that was placed right at the center of the Manor. It was a small room, but dark and with a lot of inert magical residue inside the room, though Harry was sure that at least a dozen years had passed through since anything at all took place over here.
Harry watched Dobby putting some finishing touches to the runes.
“It be ready, Master Harry.” Dobby squeaked as he stood up.
“Thank you, Dobby. You did a good job. Now go and take some rest.” Dobby nodded, apparently pleased with his master’s praise.
Harry placed the portrait on the wall at the side and tapped it with his finger. Dorea appeared a few seconds later. “Are you ready?” She asked, her face etched into one of worry.
Harry nodded without hesitation. Dorea sighed. “Very well.”
“Sit down in the center, Harry.” She instructed. Harry obliged by moving to the center, discarding his clothes as well. He then began to chant something in Latin, as he began the ritual. His chants continued for the next half hour at the end of which, Harry picked up a ritual dagger and sliced his wrists. He allowed some of his blood to fall to the ground and when the requirement was met, he pushed his magic out gradually.
A tickling sensation began at the back of his head and suddenly, the tickling turned into excruciating pain. He grit his teeth as he held back making any noise, but he couldn’t hold back for much longer. His body dropped down onto the floor and a primal scream left his throat as the backlash hit him hard in his body. The searing pain continued to course through every single nerve of his. He held on. He held on with everything possible.
At last the pain began to depreciate and Harry felt relief spread in his body. He felt lighter than he had ever been. He felt a warm sensation coarse through his back. He finally opened his eyes. He felt giddy. The room seemed to be coming back to normalcy. He felt some pain in his body, but it was not something unbearable. He had seen worse, just a few minutes back.
Harry felt clean. Refreshed. A new and foreign source of power hummed in his body, but complemented with his magic, before merging itself on his own. Harry shuddered at the sensation before it disappeared. He closed his eyes and flared his magic and was surprised by the amount of magic he seemed to be pushing out.
“It is done.” He whispered as he sat on the ground. It was done.
TBC—-----------
