Hadrian Evans-Potter and the Heir of Death

Harry woke to a pounding bell in his skull and a squirming feeling in his stomach. He groaned loudly, feeling like his brain was being used as a tennis ball for two outraged tennis players as the voices in the room shouted at one another.

Harry opened his eyes to bright light, shadowing a tense, worried face that he instantly recognised. Something in his chest—not unlike his core but so different—glowed warmly at the sight of the tired, pallid man.

"Moon-" he coughed, his throat and mouth dryer than a desert.

"Cub! Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Remus had one of Harry's hands in his tight grip, pressing it to his brow as Harry got his fit under control.

Harry shook his head, making the angry players bash the tennis balls harder. He ignored them.

"I'm alive. That's all we hoped for," He murmured, trying to smile but suspecting it looked more like a grimace.

He looked around, recognising his private ward in Gringotts and finding a group of goblins in different coloured robes in the corner having a quiet discussion amongst themselves. What he'd thought was shouting when he'd woken was the harsh rasping of Gobbledygook. Bill was standing with them, nodding at whatever Master Spearbeak was saying and adding in his opinion with a rough word back.

Harry had come far in understanding the language, but the speed with which the goblins conversed was too much for his basic knowledge.

"What happened?" he asked, glancing back to Remus.

Remus grimaced. "I'm not sure. I don't remember anything that happened after Moony took over. All I know is I woke up in that vault, the cage and chains destroyed, curled in a ball on top of a pool of blood and covered in it." Remus looked haunted by that memory, his hands shaking where they gripped Harry's.

"There wasn't a body or bones, so I was sure I hadn't killed or... eaten anyone. But I didn't know if you were alive. I could taste your blood, and I vomited before the door was opened, and Bill was assuring me that you were alive. You were still being looked after by the healers and given blood replenishers when we arrived, but you were covered in blood.

"Matron Ragnok said I bit down too hard and would've taken out a chunk of your hip, but something stopped me. I don't know what, but it saved your life. If I had taken that chunk, it would have taken part of your femoral artery instead of just nicking it, and no matter what the healers could have done, you would have died before they could even get to you." Remus said, voice breaking as a single tear dripped onto the sheets pulled over Harry.

Remus's hair was messy in a way that could only have happened from the man running his hands through the greying brown strands dozens of times. His skin was pallid with heavy bags beneath his softly glowing amber eyes.

A new, freshly healed pink scar peaked on Remus' collarbone, ran down to his chest, and was hidden beneath his button-up shirt.

Harry blinked in shock, but he let the man soothe himself by pressing Harry's hand to his forehead. Remus seemed content with the action as he tried to calm down his breathing.

Suddenly, the voices in the corner stopped, and Bill appeared hovering over Remus' shoulder, grinning at Harry.

"You gave us all a scare, kid," Bill said. Harry grinned back.

"Keeping you on your toes, old man," Harry croaked. Bill narrowed his eyes but was still smiling.

"When can we do the ritual?" Harry asked, earning a snort from someone on his left. He turned his head, wincing until he was looking at the familiar grumpy countenance of Matron Ragnok.

"Silly Little Wizard. You will not be completing any ritual for at least a week. Your body needs time to heal before taking on that nasty bit of forbidden magic in your scar. You're on bed rest. Again!" Matron Ragnok growled. Harry groaned.

"No whining!" she snapped and made him open his mouth.

He was forced to take a pain-relief potion and a numbing draught that, when combined, left him feeling tingly and strange across his skin.

"How long was I out this time?" Harry asked.

"It's the afternoon after the Full moon," Remus said. Harry sighed in relief.

"So I didn't lose another week?"

"No," Bill reassured him. "You will have one nasty scar, though,"

Harry shrugged. "What's one more?" Bill and Remus's expressions darkened, but Harry had already turned away to Matron Ragnok.

"How long am I confined to the bed this time?" He asked.

"Another few days, at least," She growled, taking a folder of information she had compiled on him while caring for him for the past weeks. He glared at its thickness. "You can rest for today. You'll feel nauseous for the first week, and your appetite will show itself. Rest. We'll talk when you don't look like you'll keel over,"

She handed him another potion, this one a deep indigo colour. He took a spoonful and fell asleep without a chance to ask what it was.

~~~

The following two weeks passed him in a blur. Harry could do little else than read and eat with his body so weak, thanks to the silver wolfsbane mixture stuffed into the wound on his hip, that the healers were unable to heal faster with magic.

Despite the wound's resistance against magically healing, it was closing up faster than he remembered the dog bites he'd received in the past on his arms and ankles healing. He suspected the scar would be much bigger than Ripper's, but he decided he would like the large bite far more than the small ones that only reminded him of a horrible woman and her horrible dog.

During this stint of boredom, he finally cracked open Hogwarts: A History and was pleasantly surprised by how much information the book that Hermione worshipped contained. He learned that other wizarding schools existed in Europe and on different continents.

The book also mentioned the enchantments and wards around the castle that kept Hogwarts hidden and prevented Muggles from locating the school or using their technology. It briefly mentioned some of the memorable artifacts and myths of the Founders, including Salazar's Locket and the Chamber of Secrets, Rowena's Diadem and Secret Library, Helga's Cup and her Kitchen, and Godric's Sword and Dueling Arena. It also briefly mentioned how the Sorting Hat came to be.

Harry vowed to himself that in the next four years, he would find, if not all, at least some of these legendary places and artifacts. He'd already seen the Chamber and used Godric's sword. That proved that at least some of them weren't just fanciful thinking.

Matron Ragnok finally permitted Harry to proceed with the ritual of removing the soul shard the morning before his birthday. He thought it was poetic that he was to finally be free of the blasted thing before turning fourteen, finally getting the fresh start he'd hoped for when he'd gotten on the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

The morning of the thirtieth of July began with Harry being bustled out of bed and into the familiar set of ritual robes he'd been told to wear during the first ritual, which Harry couldn't see as anything but bath robes. He was ushered down to a familiar room with Remus's hand on his shoulder and Bill nowhere to be found.

The eldest Weasley had not had breakfast with them as he had taken to doing most mornings over the past two weeks, and Harry felt slightly wrong-footed with their schedule disrupted like this.

They entered the ritual chamber, but instead of a couple of dozen goblins milling around, there were large groups, each with a wizard at the eight cardinal points of a large circle that Harry recognised was the outer ring of the barrier ward set to be activated.

In the middle of the ward was a giant ritual circle with so many lines and runes tied together that Harry's brain still couldn't comprehend it after Bill had tried explaining it. Bill was in the centre of this array, smiling at him beneath his hood, beckoning Harry over.

He approached with Matron Ragnok, Remus giving his shoulder one last squeeze before he headed for the dugout, and let Bill pull him into a sideways hug that Harry suspected was more to calm Bill's nerves than his own.

As Harry's bite healed, he slowly noticed minor differences in his body.

On some days, his hearing was normal; on others, a whisper felt like screaming. He woke up one night believing someone had left a lamp on when he could see Remus sleeping soundly on his cot across the room. He'd quickly realised the room was pitch black come morning, and his vision burned.

He'd bent a few spoons and accidentally slapped himself in the face when he wanted to scratch his cheek. Bill laughed at him one too many times while Remus looked sympathetic. He'd also found that he craved touch even when his skin crawled at the thought.

The crawling itch beneath his skin was barely noticeable when he saw a person he felt comfortable with approach; he felt comfortable with it. When he initiated, there was no crawling at all.

His skin roared like he'd been doused in boiling water if he was uncomfortable or surprised by the person.

His skin scarcely prickled as Bill squeezed him once before letting him go.

Harry stepped back and looked down at the ominous black box. It was covered in runes and strange shapes cast in glossy silver metal. It was positioned right above where Harry's head would rest, close to the cursed scar.

"This is the containment box, Harry. Once we've erected the ward and started the ritual, it will be activated. It's designed to detect and contain incredibly dark magic, so it should only react to the Horcrux. It has previously contained small objects containing Horcruxes, but never one separated from its vessel, so this will be a test of sorts. We need you to stay awake in this ritual again, and just like the last ritual, we need you to focus on forcing the foreign magic out of you. Push it from your scar. If we've done this right, your scar should eject a similar black liquid instead of blood, but you must stay awake, Harry. You can not fall unconscious. Alright?" Bill explained.

Harry nodded, the lump in his throat too large to form words around. He brushed his fingers against the angry, raised lines of his scar, making the headache that had been steadily building since getting bitten worse and worse. The scar looked fresh, and they had worried it might start bleeding, so Matron Ragnok had kept his forehead tightly bandaged the last few days.

She unravelled the bandage now and wrinkled her nose at the angry red scar, splitting at the seams.

"It wants to come out," she announced. “I'd take a wager and say it's not fond of sharing its vessel," she cackled to herself as she instructed Harry to disrobe.

He felt less embarrassed this time. He didn't know if it were the new wolf mentality he'd read about in one of Remus's books or if he was so nervous that he couldn't muster up the energy to be embarrassed by his nudity.

He was positioned on the floor again and made to drip blood into another bowl. His glasses were taken from him, and when the last of the preparations were finished, the five wizards in identical dark blue robes as Bill shouted into the tense silence.

"PROTEGO MAXIMA!"

A bright blue dome the size of a large carriage rose around Harry. It expanded steadily until it touched the inner edges of the large ward circle and fused with the runes. Sparks flashed up the dome, and geometric patterns traced the barrier in golden light, the shapes spinning and interlocking.

Harry took in a deep breath and relaxed his tense muscles. Chanting filled the room, causing a silver vapour to begin rising from the carvings in the floor, growing thicker and thicker until Harry couldn't see the Goblins and Wizards outside the ward.

He tried to control his breathing as the fog entered his mouth. When he thought the mist would taste metallic and sharp, a cloying, sweet gas filled his lungs like cotton. He coughed as the air thickened, and the chanting felt more and more like a choir. He groaned at the building pressure, but then the air condensed over his head, spiralling like a tornado from the dome's roof.

The silver vapour dived like a harpoon straight into Harry's skull.

It took hold of the sharp, screeching Horcrux attached to the angry red scar, twisting around it like a fly encased in a spider's thread. The harpoon yanked like it was at sea, reeling in the catch.

Harry screamed at the agony ripping through his skull, worse than any migraine or concussion the Dursleys had ever given him.

His magic surged, pushing at the soul shard as something inside him growled. It sat above his core and beat quicker and quicker. It pulsed in time with the warmth inside his heart, and the Horcrux recoiled from it.

Harry grinned, and a rumbling noise erupted from his throat as the Hocrux shrieked at him in disgust. Tendrils of wispy black snapped where they connected the shard to his scar. The pain faded to a distant hum in his mind, and he urged his magic on.

The harpoon pulled at the shard as his magic pushed, and the little flame in his heart howled in glee. More tendrils snapped like chains, clanging loudly as Harry screamed louder and louder, joining the choir.

The final tendril pulled and pulled, becoming white-hot. It did not snap.

The strand stretched, and Harry thought he might rise from the stone floor with the strength the harpoon was tugging at him, but he felt the strand like a thick mooring chain. He felt the chain from the Horcrux seeping past his scar, skin, and bone, diving deeper before becoming intangible, connecting to something deeper within Harry.

The Goblins and Curse-Breakers had not theorised a significant factor where they had broken the Horcrux from his body, his magic and mind.

Though the soul can not be touched, split or combined without repercussions, it can be attached to another, stabilising it and preventing its destruction.

The Horcrux wailed like a banshee, and a wraith of black smog erupted into the barrier, connected by a single, wire-thin strand, disappearing beneath Harry's scar.

"Keep going! It's almost been separated!" Harry heard a wizard shout from the barrier, but Harry already knew they had failed.

He knew the Horcrux could not be separated from his body like other Horcruxes can be separated from their vessels. The Horcrux had bonded with him when he was a baby. The ritual was only modified enough to untangle the soul shard from a vessel and magic source. Objects were not living beings. They did not have a soul.

Harry screamed, back arching as blood gushed from his scar and the Horcrux tore at the barrier.

Harry opened his eyes and met Bill Weasley's gaze. The Curse-Breaker's blue eyes were horrified, but his stance was determined. Harry bit his lip to hold in his screams and gave the man one determined shake of the head.

"Soul—" Harry tried to say, but it came out as a rasp, drowned out by the screeches and the amalgamation of chanting.

Bill's eyebrows furrowed, sweat dripping down his temples to his chin. Harry tried again, only able to mouth the words, even as his body began convulsing and his throat grew tighter.

Bill gasped, understanding.

"Shit! It won't work!" He shouted, hoping Master Spearbeak, the closest goblin to him, would hear. "It's tethered to his soul!" Bill screamed, and Master Spearbeak whipped around to look at the red-haired wizard.

The goblin's beady eyes widened in horror even as he continued chanting. Bill looked to his fellow Curse-Breakers and shouted loud enough for his voice to break.

"Strengthen the barrier!" he demanded. He got nods of assent.

"INDURESCO!" the Curse-Breakers shouted as one, and the barrier thickened.

Spearbeak immediately stopped chanting, calling his fellows to do the same while the Curse-Breakers held the barrier, preventing the Horcrux from breaking out against its best efforts.

The Horcrux was infuriated. The strange silver mist laced around the Horcux, trying to pull it, slackened and fell like ash over Harry.

Harry's prone body beneath the black, indistinct apparition looked tiny where the two were connected.

The goblins scurried around the room, scratching at the stone with fervour.

Remus watched this from the small dugout with the healers, eyes horrified as he watched the Goblins and Curse-Breaker's plan fall apart. Matron Ragnok stood beside him with the other healers, ready and waiting, snarling at the Hocrux with disgust.

"Get Ready!" Master Spearbeak shouted to Bill and the other Curse-Breakers.

They tensed, and with a resounding screech from the Horcux, the Goblins began chanting again.

Red light erupted from the new carvings on the stone floor, a liquid pooling into it from the bleeding palms of every Goblin Ritualist in the room.

The blood streaked beneath the barrier, racing for the boy convulsing on the ground, and surged up him. To Harry, it felt like a strange, warm goo creeping up him, like from the monster movies he'd seen Dudley and his mean friends watching through the grates in his cupboard door on Halloween.

Chains shot from the blood, wrapping around the Horcrux. It raged, trying to pull away now that it was free from the restraints of Harry's body. The chains surged, twisting around the shade and yanked. They twisted again and again until almost the entire horrifying creature was covered in a cocoon of blood.

Suddenly, it convulsed. With a shiver, the cocoon shrank.

It shrank increasingly, pulsing as the Hocrux raged inside the capsule.

When it was the size of a baby's palm, it hovered above Harry's wide eyes and was connected to him by a single wire-thin link, coated in glistening crimson.

And then, with an unpleasant sucking sound, the blob of blood was sucked back into Harry's scar.

Harry wailed into the now quiet room, feeling like his head was expanding and someone was filling a balloon beneath his skin. It was the mother of all migraines and concussions combined, and he could feel the Horcrux beating at its jail until it suddenly fell silent.

There was a ringing in his ears as he slumped to the stone floor, and he could feel the cage of blood sitting in his scar, filling in the broken cracks of the cursed cut he'd received at the tender age of one.

He could feel it still weeping blood down his temple and into his hair, but he didn't care about that right now.

His eyes scrunched up, and a wave of exhaustion overcame him, but he was too full of feelings to pass out.

His eyes, already wet from the agony of the Hocrux being ripped out and then subsequently shoved back into his scar, leaked down either side of his head as he stared at the ceiling where the dome of the ward was breaking as the Curse-Breaker's released their spells.

He bit his bottom lip hard to hold in the sobs, ignoring the pain radiating in his skull (surprisingly, his scar had become numb) as the realisation of what just happened overcame him.

The ritual failed.

The soul shard of the man who murdered his parents remained attached to him.

He didn't know why he felt so defeated. He'd spent the last thirteen years of his life with the bastard unknowingly stuck in his scar, but having that hope completely stomped on and crushed like a bug was humbling.

His chest heaved as blood dripped from his forehead into his eye, coating his blurry vision in red.

Around him was a puddle of an oil-like substance that reeked like gasoline and decay. The flame sitting above his core, beneath his heart, sputtered in the wake of his despair. He thought he heard a mournful howl in the back of his head, which made his scar twinge irritably.

Heads began appearing within his line of sight, but the world was blurry without his glasses, so he ignored them. He let himself feel for the first time in his life. Let the tears silently fall on his face as someone placed a sheet over his nude body.

He recognised some voices. Bill was at his side, grabbing him under his armpits and hauling him away even as Harry involuntarily flinched before becoming limp. His body dragged a long line of the black liquid, dotted with drops of blood, until he was propped up against a wall and bombarded by goblins in white robes.

Remus was beside him, pressing Harry's hand to his lips, whispering prayers into Harry's skin as tears fell down the man's cheek.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," He repeated, slivers of bright gold peeking through his half-closed eyes.

That little flame sputtered to life in the elder Werewolf's presence, filling his aching chest with warmth as his heart rate slowed and emotions slowly emerged from the void he'd been drowning in.

"I'm okay, Moony," Harry whispered hoarsely, clearing his throat and sniffing loudly. Remus looked up, eyes wide and golden, and Harry felt his flash in response. Remus choked on his next breath.

"Cub," He said, one of his hands letting go of Harry's to reach up, carefully cupping the side of Harry's head not being tended to by the Healers poking around his scar that had closed and looked as it always had when he was a child.

Remus's gaze roamed around Harry's face, settling on his eyes that flashed again.

"Your flare. It's different," He said, making Harry's eyebrows raise.

"Different? How?" He croaked, leaning more of the weight of his head from his neck to Remus' hand. He felt himself calming further as the man began his explanation, his focus shifting from knowing that all their efforts and sacrifices had failed.

"It's not like other Werewolves. Most of us have a gold or amber flare to our eyes, depending on how strong our wolves are. Those whose wolves have... become rotten or withered can get a red glow. Yours though... they're glowing green, the exact shade of your eyes, but brighter like acid or... or emeralds. Some creatures have the same coloured flare but are so rare that barely anyone remembers them, and some of the most powerful wizards in history were rumoured to have glowing eyes. They may believe you are just really powerful rather than a creature.

"And... It's not noticeable unless it's dark. If anyone saw, I doubt they could tell they flared, let alone that it was a Werewolf's flare. Some might even think you went through an early inheritance on the off chance they notice, and would likely never guess a Werewolf. We should look up which creatures have a green flare like yours. It could be a good cover for you,"

Harry was happy to let Remus ramble, taking his guardian's attention away from knowing his fears had been realised. He'd given Harry the bite with nothing to show for it. Harry didn't care about that, though. He only cared that the ritual had failed in the end. Not that their preparations were for nothing.

Harry wasn't taking in much of what the man was saying as his body slowly crashed, one part at a time. He didn't feel any discomfort from the hand, still cradling his face gently and letting his Guardian take his weight as he leaned into the comfort he'd been denied throughout his childhood.

Remus cradled him as Harry's weight dropped further. He took a moment to position Harry against his shoulder, running his hand through the wild black locks sticky with blood and the putrid black oil. They both ignored it, and the tears fell silently down Harry's sharp cheeks.

Matron Ragnok was happy to work around them, quietly instructing her healers on how to treat the boy whose body trembled and flinched at every gentle touch. His skin was unnaturally pale, grey, and clammy.

They bandaged his forehead even as his eyes refused to dim, glowing in the dim light of ritual chambers, watching the blurry groups of people rushing around. The Goblin Ritualists cleared away the ritual and washed away the oil-like substance and Harry's blood, hobbling tiredly and holding onto one another. None of the healers attended to their cuts, so Harry didn't mention it. The Curse-Breakers cleansed the air and floor of the silver dust.

Harry vaguely heard Master Spearbeak and Bill explaining to Remus what had gone wrong when they all assumed Harry had passed out on Remus' shoulder, the boy's eyes closed. He wasn't concerned with correcting them.

"The ritual was designed to sever the bonds between a Hocrux and all physical, magical and mental ties it shared with its vessel. We managed to sever the bonds it had on Heir Potter's body, mind and magic, but we had not anticipated that the soul shard had connected to its host's soul.

"Theoretically, it shouldn't be possible; however, because the shard attached to him so young when the soul is malleable and growing with the body, it is plausible that the only reason the shard survived was that it stabilised itself with Heir Potter's soul while feeding itself on his magic and anchoring to his body and mind through his scar.

"Our ritual could not break this bond as it has never happened before to our knowledge or extensive records. We will endeavour to research a new way to sever the bond between the Hocrux and Heir Potter's soul, but until then, the ward we erected around it will do a good job of protecting Heir Potter from it. Still, the soul is intrinsically linked to the body, mind and magic, so it is not foolproof. There may be times when the Hocrux can reach him, but as long as he starts practising Occlumency, he should not be impacted as badly if he still had the previous weaker ward," Master Spearbeak explained.

"How long will this ward hold?" Remus asked worriedly, his hand carding through Harry's hair soothingly.

"The ward has connected with his blood and magic, so it will hold as long as his heart continues beating enough blood to sustain it. Think of it like infinite chains wrapping around the Horcrux, constantly breaking and being replaced. This wouldn't be possible if he were still human, as the need for healing and blood-replenishing potions would become burdensome, possibly even debilitating with his age. His Werewolf regeneration will keep his blood replenishing repeatedly even as the Horcrux continuously destroys his blood cells," Master Spearbeak assured.

Harry felt Remus sigh, the air fluttering along the strands of his bangs.

"Moony," Harry interrupted.

All eyes turned to the broken boy with tear stains on his cheeks and blood and a disgusting black oil coating his forehead, temples and hair. He had nothing but a sheet shielding him.

The boy's eyes glowed as he looked at the people surrounding him, trying to be quiet to let him sleep even though he was wide awake. He tried to smile even as his lips wobbled.

"Can we go home?"

~~~

Harry and Remus were packing up the private ward assigned to them, collecting all their books and knickknacks while waiting for Master Blordak, who had requested to talk with them before they left.

It was the following afternoon of the ritual and Harry's birthday.

Harry had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow when they returned to his room mid-afternoon the previous day. He'd been spoon-fed a thick broth with hot roasted potatoes that had tasted like ash in his mouth before Matron Ragnok had taken pity on him, giving him time to rest.

He'd refused to talk about the ritual when he'd been woken once for dinner and potions, but he had taken the time before falling back asleep to make Remus promise that he'd wake Harry just before midnight.

Harry had told Remus about his yearly ritual, which he'd been performing since he first found out about the day of his birth, but he had not said that it was thanks to finding out about the wizarding world that Harry could appreciate his life.

They'd sat together in the dim candlelight and waited for the time spell to count down to midnight. Remus had been the first to wish him Happy Birthday, followed by Hedwig swooping in through a slim tunnel Harry had eventually discovered was his owl's entry and exit into the impenetrable bank.

She had landed on his shoulder and given his hair a gentle preening as she had done his last two birthdays since he'd received his beautiful Snowy Owl as his first-ever Birthday present.

She had a letter attached to her leg and had just untied it, allowing her to continue to preen him, when another three birds swooped into the ward. Two landed on Hedwig's expensive perch, and another, the Weasley's familiar elderly owl Erol, perched on his headboard.

Harry opened all his friends' letters and presents, glad he remembered Neville's birthday was the day before his. He had sent the boy a limited edition mystery seed box randomly packed with ten different seeds, anything from magical to muggle to flowers to edible plants.

Neville returned his thanks and surprise at receiving Harry's gift. He sent an ancient book with a deep maroon leather cover filled with old and forgotten defensive and offensive spells, 'The Ancient Art of Wizard Duels' by Ignatius Longbottom.

Harry was in awe and quickly wrote back a letter of deep gratitude and an offer to meet in Diagon to collect their school supplies and catch up when the book lists come out.

Hermione had also sent him a book called 'Wizarding Society: How to navigate Wizarding Jobs, Balls and Hierarchy.'

Before removing the blocks, Harry would've chucked this book at the bottom of his pile beneath his textbooks, but now, with everything he still had to learn after all his lessons, he eagerly placed this at the top of his teetering stack.

Ron had sent him a giant box of the new Honeydukes chocolates filled with different jams and nougats. A note attached asked if Harry was alright with his relatives, not having heard from him in a while, and worried if they had locked up Hedwig again. As always, there was a reliable P.S. If you need us to break you out, Fred, George, and I are always ready.

Fred and George had given him an assortment of tiny firecrackers that left behind no evidence and larger magical fireworks labelled prototypes. They were carefully placed in a cupboard of his trunk, which was quickly warded. Bill had given him a book called 'Beginners Guide to Curse-Breaking—including Complementary Careers' by Matilda Burksley.

Mrs. Weasley had sent him a giant birthday cake and assorted homemade pasties that he and Remus happily consumed as a midnight snack, knowing they wouldn't get in trouble having been nagged at by Matron Ragnok constantly over the last month for not eating enough. They'd both filled out quite a lot if Harry said so himself, unable to see every single rib under his skin, and Remus had gained weight, too, with a sudden bulk of muscle.

With the added weight and increase in energy without sapping away his magic to keep him stable, Matron Ragnok finally gave him the okay to start following her exercise routine when they left Gringotts.

Hagrid had sent Harry an adorable carving of Buckbeak in flight, enchanted to flap up a few inches and circle once before landing again. Harry loved it.

The last gift he received was from Remus.

“This is something your father should have had the chance to give you. It's a custom in the Wizarding World, and depending on the family, you would receive it at eleven or seventeen when you are legally an adult or have made an achievement worthy of your house. I asked Master Blordak, who told me the Potter family gave their sons this before leaving for Hogwarts. It's supposed to remind them that no matter how much time they spend apart, there will always be a home for them to return to... I know it's a bit late and I'm not James... but...”

The man held out a small, velvet red box for him to take. Inside was a dark dragon hide leather wristwatch that matched the colour of his black wand holster. The clock face was designed with an impenetrable crystal lens and silver metal, with depictions of the moon phases and constellations assembled of black obsidian and quartz.

Beneath the number XII was a quartz half-moon that shifted with the constellations as Harry turned it in different directions, acting as a compass. The watch was entirely silent to Harry's fluctuating sensitive ears, and on the base, carved into the polished silver, were the letters HJEP.

Harry wondered where Remus got the money for such a dazzling watch and felt a surge of guilt when he thought of the man spending his hard-earned savings on a birthday present for Harry, but when he looked at Remus to refuse, he saw something in Remus' gaze that stopped him.

It wasn't anger at spending money on an unlovable orphan forced upon him, nor was it annoyance that Harry was wasting his time and resources.

It was joy. He was delighted to watch Harry examine the watch.

Harry ignored the hard lump that grew in his throat. The world did not deserve Remus Lupin.

He turned back to examining the watch, and on some base instinct that Harry assumed was thanks to his new inheritance, Harry brought the watch to his nose and inhaled the leather deeply. He looked up at Remus, startled.

"You've done something to it," he said, trying to work out the jumbled senses he was still learning to interpret. "You've..." He stopped and growled, unable to find the words as his mind latched onto the scent of the man woven into the leather.

"The stitching," Remus admitted, a fond smile on his face as he skimmed his finger along said stitching in the leather. Harry noticed it was different from the black material; the colour was more russet with a hint of grey.

"The thread was made from my hair and infused with my blood,” Remus explained. “Thanks to the Goblins, I've learned much more about our kind this last month than I ever did with the information in the Wizarding World, as I was never accepted into a traditional wolf pack. They were the ones I commissioned this piece from.

"The books described how packs recognise one another by types of leather straps worn anywhere on the wolf's person that smell of their pack and are connected magically to the alpha. But gifting something like this," he tapped Harry's watch, "is not only significant to wizarding customs. This is also done between the Sire or Guardian and their Cub. I apologise if I've overstepped, but I truly, in every sense of the word, see you as my Cub, Hadri. This lets other wolves know that you've been claimed as my own and that any offence against you is against me. Cubs are generally left alone anyway, but this identifies that you're my family. Only if you want to... I'm not trying to replace James as your father—"

Harry launched himself at the man as he devolved into a rambling. His face had been increasingly worried at Harry's blank expression, but was now full of surprise at his ward's sudden actions.

Harry never hugged first, not even with Hermione, as the girl was the person he was most tactile and comfortable around. He became accustomed to her flinging herself at him when she was upset, happy or worried over his safety.

"I want that," he whispered, sniffing and refusing to let the tears out. "I want us to be family, Moony." He'd hoped but never imagined that asking his Ex-defence professor to be his Guardian after hopping off the train would turn out like this, but he was infinitely grateful for the man every day.

Harry quickly put on the watch, feeling a blanket of comfort settle around his shoulders and in a small part of his heart that had itched before but was now settled. Remus's permanent, comforting smell of books, burning wood, and that distinct wild scent of wolf and rosemary surrounded him.

He thanked him profusely, and Remus laughed at the boy's enthusiasm, hiding his tears in Harry's shaggy, pitch-black hair. They spent a few more hours talking while Harry admired his gifts.

Harry didn't even notice he'd not received anything from Sirius.

Now, packing up in the afternoon after a long, late morning nap and being forced to eat his breakfast and take his morning potions, Harry was very excited to leave Gringotts and his Private Ward, even if he would miss the Goblins he'd come to be very close with. Matron Ragnok had left them to pack after giving him a stern talk about schedules, routine, and a peculiar box.

She'd handed him the dark, auburn wooden box and instructed him to place a drop of his blood onto the lid. The lid had soaked up the three ruby red drops and glowed briefly before Matron Ragnok had tipped it upside down.

On the base of the box was an inscription: 'Portable—Hadrian Evans-Potter' followed by a series of vertical lines and dots that, if the lines had been horizontal, would've been eerily similar to the Muggle Morse Code that Harry had had to learn in his Muggle Primary school.

The box was empty, with something written in ink under the lid. In the corner, 'Gringotts—Healing Wing—Matron Ragnok' was written above another series of lines and dots. Besides that, there was another: ' Gringotts—Manager Office 3—Master Blordak'.

All the strange codes reminded him of Muggle barcodes, and it was explained to him that he only needed to place his letter in the box, press a drop of blood on one of the barcodes, and close the lid. The letter or parcel would be sent to the corresponding box that belongs to the code he had focused on. She told him it only allowed eight codes to be bonded to it at a time, but it was a much faster and more secure form of communication than Owl Post.

Matron Ragnok had sternly told him she would send his potions through the box and that he had to be meticulous in contacting her when he was running low. She had promised she would come barging into wherever he was and force the potions down his throat, otherwise.

Harry had conceded quickly to the Matron with a nervous laugh.

Bill had wished him a jolly birthday and a farewell and requested that Harry put Bill's code in his box. Harry eagerly agreed, and he now had three out of eight codes, his newest to 'Portable—Curse-Breaking Department—William Weasley'.

Bill then ruffled his hair and paused, looking like he wanted to say something, but he caught the slight shake of Remus' head behind and only sighed before setting out, saying he had been given the next month off for a holiday.

When Harry was sure he'd packed everything, his beautiful trunk, gifted and made for him by his mother, sitting at the end of his cot, his black satchel slung over his shoulder, and his wand holster strapped to his arm, Master Blordak entered the Private Room.

"Heir Potter," The Goblin greeted, a thick blanket in his arms, "Happy Birthday. May your enemies perish and your gold ever flow,"

Harry grinned. "Thank you, Master Blordak. May your weapons stay sharp and your coffers full," Harry loved Goblin greetings. It didn't matter what he said. He could say whatever he liked as long as he wished good fortune in battle and wealth.

"The goblins of Gringotts have favoured you, Heir Potter," Master Blordak said with a wry grin, "My people have accepted you, and that is something that only our Curse-Breakers have achieved, and most barely manage a cordial working environment. I told you that making a family tapestry would take at least six months as the Goblin Weavers have other clients. However, they have grown attached to you, so the entire clan pushed aside their projects and banded together to create yours for your fourteenth birthday. Here,"

Master Blordak handed over the thick woollen blanket, and Harry gasped at the feel of it. The magic of the tapestry sang in his ears as his own brushed against it. It smelt of soft things and clouds and intertwined with his blood. He remembered the day he'd requested one be made, two days after he'd woken from his first ritual. He'd had to bleed into seven large crystal vials and became very light-headed. They were all viscously yelled at by Matron Ragnok afterwards.

Remus helped him unravel the tapestry, using a temporary sticking charm to stick it to the wall of the cave room so he could see it in all its glory.

"It's magnificent!" Harry gasped, taking it in in its glory.

It was a beige square, almost as tall as Remus and the same width as height. The border was masterfully done, with each of his house crests an equidistant apart. Where it should've been gaudy, it was flowing and artistic.

At the bottom, towards the centre of the cream-coloured background was a thick tree stump outlined in shining bronze thread. Harry touched the trunk and felt his magic pulse into it. When he pulled away, the tree began growing. His face and name popped up in the centre at the base of the trunk, and above his face, two large trunks grew from the stump, and on them, his mother's and father's faces emerged from one each.

Harry watched, fascinated, as branches and leaves grew from each thick branch, twisting and bending until more branches grew off the main two and were labelled with his different inheriting houses.

Harry discovered he was related to the House of Black through his great-grandmother, Dorea Potter nee Black, who'd married Charlus Potter and given birth to his grandfather, Fleamont Potter. Both had aristocratic features, and Harry found that besides the darker colour of his skin and Lily's features, Harry looked more like Fleamont and Dorea than James.

Now that it was growing, Harry's hair looked more like Fleamont's pitch-black waves and Dorea's thin, angular nose and sharp brows.

He followed the Potter family back in amusement until he approached the first sign of the Peverell name. He found the Lord's speckled throughout until he came upon only child, Iolanthe Potter, nee Peverell. She and her grandfather, Ignotus Peverell, had the wild, pitch-black hair Harry had tracked through the generations of Potters and realised it likely originated from them. He wondered when the curse had been placed upon them and if it was truly linked to the Potters.

Harry was surprised to find Petunia, Dudley and his maternal grandparents on the tapestry, but he realized they must be present because they were Squibs. Lily had inherited her father's emerald green eyes and her mother's ruby-red hair, while Petunia had inherited their father's curly blonde locks and their mother's pale eyes. It made the two sisters look like cousins.

Harry discovered that the Slytherin line had come from his grandfather, Henry Evans, and the man's ancestor, Xavierus Slytherin, twin brother of Xicaria Gaunt, nee Slytherin. Xavierus had a son, Demetrius Evans, a year before his death at twenty-three.

Harry quickly realised that Xavierus's family must have abandoned Demetrius in the Muggle World after his father's death, as his name was not Slytherin but that of an adoptive Muggle Family, the Evans.

The Ravenclaw line originated from Lily's mother, Dahlia Evans, nee Baker.

Her mother, Almeda Baker, nee Yaxsley, was abandoned in an orphanage by Hestia Yaxsley, nee Ravenclaw, who had an older daughter, Caldwela Yaxley, who married Elliot Rosier and had Pandora Lovegood, nee Rosier. She had married Xenophilius Lovegood, and together, they had a little girl with mousy blonde hair, pale silver eyes, and alabaster skin.

"Luna Pandora Lovegood, born 13th February 1981," Harry whispered. "My cousin... she's a year below me," Harry said.

"Miss Lovegood?" Remus asked, looking up from where he'd examined the Potter line, his hand lingering on Euphemia and Fleamont. "She's in Ravenclaw house. She's intelligent but tends to explain things in roundabout ways and believes in many things other kids believe are imaginary. She's... not very appreciated in her house,"

Harry frowned. Remus smiled at the expression.

"I talked to Professor Flitwick at the start of last year, and he assured me he's been watching over her. He asked her many times if she was alright, but she always answered in ways that confused him, stating in her roundabout way that she was okay. You'll understand when you meet her," He chuckled at Harry's confused expression.

Harry nodded slowly and went back to examining the tree. The Black family was a surprise.

He discovered that the family loved to interbreed. He also learned he was blood related to Sirius through Cygnus Black II, Sirius's Great-Grandfather and Harry's Great-Great-Grandfather. Harry searched further for any other living members connected to the Blacks and, to his astonishment, found Draconis Lucius Malfoy.

Harry gaped and started working his way up to find them related to the same Great-Great-Grandfather as Harry was to Sirius, Cygnus Black II, through Malfoy's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black and Sirius's first cousin.

Harry didn't know how to feel, being Malfoy's Second Cousin.

He searched further and felt revolted when he found that Sirius' parents were cousins; his mother, Walburga, was Narcissa's father's sister, and both the two siblings and Orion, Sirius' father, had the same great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black, who was also a Headmaster of Hogwarts.

He analyzed the rest of the tapestry and found only a small group of his family members still alive. Most of the names had 'Deceased,' with the date of death beneath them, including his parents: 31st October 1981.

Harry counted and discovered seven living wixen relatives left alive from hundreds on the tapestry. It was expected with many of his ancestors, but he was deeply saddened to find so many deaths between 1975 and 1994, ending entire bloodlines without children to inherit them.

"Sirius Black, Andromeda Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks, Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and Luna Lovegood... They're the only living relatives I have left," He murmured.

Remus looked at him and pointed to something below Harry's name where the tree trunk descended into roots. At the base of the trunk was a face and name.

"Remus Lyall Lupin. Sire?" Harry read, looking back at the man.

"Sire is what you call an animal's male parent. I essentially am the father of your wolf, and any more wolves I sire would be your pack sisters and brothers. I won't be siring any more Werewolves," He quickly added, seeing Harry's eyes widen. "But I'm saying that we're family too, now. If anyone tried to take you away or denied my status as your legal guardian, we only need to show this to prove my claim over you or have you take another inheritance test. This, in the eyes of magic, is as good as you being my son,"

Harry sniffed loudly, rubbing at his dry eyes and clearing his throat. "Thanks, Moony," he murmured, and he was given a soft smile in return. He turned back to the tapestry and pointed to the names he didn't know.

"Bellatrix and Andromeda, Malfoy's aunts. Do you know them?" Harry asked. Remus wrinkled his nose in disgust at the question.

"Bellatrix? Unfortunately. She was Voldemort's most loyal servant and worshipped the ground he walked. Her family forced her to marry Rodolphus Lestrange when Andromeda ran away to marry a muggle-born, Edward Tonks, when I was in my first year. It's all Sirius would gossip about, as it was a massive scandal in the Black Family. Andy was close to your mother and me during the war and was loyal to our side, but she didn't fight; instead, she acted as a field medic; she had her daughter in 1972. I believe she and Ted are Mediwizards employed by St Mungo's.

"Bellatrix was sent to Azkaban the same year as Sirius for torturing a Pureblood couple into insanity with her Husband and brother-in-law Rabastan and a boy who was only nineteen years old, Barty Crouch Jr. Her horrific actions cast a dark light on the Black Family, not including Sirius's disgraced image as the Heir and Current Lord."

Harry quickly crossed the insane woman off his internal family list. He'd save judgment for her youngest sister, Narcissa and felt neutral, if slightly warmer, towards Andromeda until he met the woman and her daughter. Malfoy... Draco was a difficult one.

In his etiquette books, he discovered that on that first train ride to Hogwarts, when Draco had first introduced himself, Harry had been incredibly disrespectful by snubbing the introduction of a Heir to a Noble and Ancient House, especially one who was a member of one of Harry's houses.

The Houses of Potter and Malfoy were considered equal in Nobility, but the Malfoys were also a part of the Sacred Twenty-eight and, therefore, slightly higher in standing. By snubbing a Malfoy, Harry had practically told everyone that he thought his house was better than Draco's and not equal.

Add on the compulsions against the prat and his house, Harry and Draco had had a horrible first impression of one another. Harry wasn't surprised Draco hated Harry, but the boy would've been more mature if he'd ignored Harry's existence instead of antagonising him at every chance.

"Alright, I think we need to get moving soon," Remus snapped Harry from his thoughts and started rolling up the tapestry. Harry carefully stowed it away in one of his compartments while Master Blordak stood from where he'd taken a seat in the corner, sorting through a large folder of paperwork.

"I would like to recommend, Heir Potter and Mr. Lupin, that you take up residence in one of your family homes," He showed Harry a sheet of parchment with the Properties under his name.

"Am I allowed to access them?" he asked in confusion, "I'm not of age yet,"

"As long as your legal guardian allows it, you can access any inherited property. Some of these are ancient homes with ancient ways of accessing the properties. The Peverell estates have a lost form of Permance Portkey keyed to the Unplottable wards. The Black and Potter Manors have the same. If you take residence in one of these Unplottable Residences, you can practice your magic and hide from anyone who wishes to return you to your... relatives," Master Blordak snarled the last word.

Harry grinned and showed Remus the list. They examined their options but ultimately decided on the Peverell Family's Hallows Cottage in the middle of the New Forest in southern England. Harry was given a small moke-skin pouch containing a pair of white-silver stud earrings, a slim golden chain necklace, and a silver brooch with a giant smooth black jewel in the centre.

Harry examined each earring, finding that one had a minuscule tree of life symbol woven into the metal, and the other had a triad of flickering candles, the flames moving realistically. Harry carefully removed the earrings and placed the necklace and brooch back in the pouch before putting them inside the satchel. Remus grabbed his handheld suitcase tightly and bowed to Master Blordak.

"Thank you for all your help; we'll be seeing you soon," Remus said, and Master Blordak nodded to the wolf.

"Take care of yourself, Faoladh. Look after Heir Potter," Master Blordak responded, surprising Remus. Harry had read about Faoladh, the Werewolves depicted in Irish Folklore and revered by Goblins. They were described as protectors of their communities and families, especially children.

Harry grinned. It suited Remus very well.

"Heir Potter. Those Portkeys can only be activated by the Heir or Lord Ring of the corresponding house. The Earrings, by the Peverell Ring, The Chain Necklace, by the Potter Ring and the Brooch by the Black Ring. Please focus on the magic of one of those houses and the property you wish to access and direct it into the Portkey. It will take you to the property with anything you are holding or directly grabbing onto.

"Once Mr. Lupin has been portkeyed to the property, he can appear outside the Anti-Apparition Wards as long as he has a distinct image of the surrounding land. You can Portkey to the property whenever you wish once you are out of the Gringott's wards," Master Blordak said and stepped back as Harry smiled at him.

"Thanks, Master Blordak. See you later," He waved, and he and Remus left Gringotts, walking down the long halls and saying a quick farewell to every goblin that greeted them in a fierce, violent, and distinctly goblinish way.

"Hey, Moony," Harry began as they stepped through the giant white doors and bowed once to each goblin guard, who reciprocated with toothy grins.

"Hm?" Remus hummed, glancing down at Harry with that contented smile Harry had become used to seeing when he looked up while they quietly read to themselves.

"Can we make a quick stop before we go to the cottage?" Harry asked haltingly. Remus raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Well, you know how Bill has those earrings?" Remus nodded, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "He told me where he got them done... but the shop might be in Knockturn Alley," he admitted.

Remus looked at him for a minute, considering. "You want to get the Portkey's pierced into your ears?" Harry nodded, giving Remus a pleading look that felt very foreign, but Bill had told him he would one hundred per cent convince Remus. Harry was sceptical, but he also really wanted his ears pierced.

Remus gave a tiny sigh and nodded his head. Harry grinned triumphantly.

"Thank you!" he said.

He quickly grabbed Remus's wrist and dragged him towards the alley entrance. His grin was hidden beneath the hood of the thin grey jumper he wore to hide his identity.

The alley was dark and dismal, but Harry bounced happily. Remus trailed behind him with a wary, amused vigilance, scaring off any lurking hags or vampires that peered at them from gloomy corners with a flash of golden eyes.

Harry quickly found the shop Bill had recommended and stopped in front of the door.

It was a dull, dark shop, and he would've walked straight past it if he had been window shopping. Not that Knockturn Alley was a great place to window shop anyway.

"Marella's Piercing and Tattoo Parlour," he whispered excitedly.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's words throughout his childhood flashed in his mind. There was a day when they had once walked past a club in Muggle London, the place smelling of cigarettes and spilt liquor that stuck in Harry's mind.

"Look at them! The filthy layabouts! Ruining their bodies with such devilry! Disgusting poofs!" Uncle Vernon had groused as they passed two men boldly snogging in front beside the bouncer.

Aunt Petunia shrieked when she saw them, urging Dudley to walk faster and covering his eyes. Neither remembered Little Harry being there, but Harry remembered the scene vividly.

Both men had sleeves of tattoos, faces full of piercings and long hair, one of whom had tied his up in a bun on top of his head.

His Aunt & Uncle hadn't talked about anything else for a month. They even forgot to yell at him because they had been so disgusted and furious by the two grown adults at that club.

Harry stepped into the shop, grinning broadly.

He expected a bell to ring and was surprised when a squeaky voice shouted above him instead.

"Oi! Ya got guests, you old hag!"

Harry quickly turned around and looked up, Remus nearly bumping into him. Hanging above the door was a shrunken head, the eyes sealed shut with pieces of string in identical black X's.

"How can I help you, gentlemen?" a silky, deep voice asked behind him.

Harry found himself twirling around for the second time in as many seconds, Remus' callused hand landing on his shoulder, giving him more courage.

A short woman, barely a head taller than he was, stood with her hands on the counter. She had long hair in a high ponytail, framing her petite frame in a curtain of black silk and caramel skin slightly darker than his own. But where the occasionally pale scar marked his arms, hers were adorned with brightly colourful markings and artworks, constantly shifting and moving around her body.

His eyes tracked the slow scuttle of a lizard-like shadow moving from the back of her hand, where it was laid flat against the counter, up her wrist, and making a home on her bicep, curling up as though it was going to sleep.

Her face was emotionless, and her hazel eyes glinted golden in the sun, seeming larger with the kohl surrounding them. Her features were sharp and distinctly hawkish, her expression carefully curated so her target could feel like shivering prey.

"Um... hi," Harry said, his voice quieter than intended. "I-I wanted to know if you had an availability open for a few piercings?"

The woman scrutinized him, piercing eyes sweeping over him as her fingers drummed silently along the counter before moving to the tall man behind him. A scarab beetle peeked over her shoulder beneath the strap of her black singlet. Harry blinked at it.

"I have no clients scheduled for the rest of this afternoon," She admitted, returning his attention to her face. "Do you have the money?"

"Money isn't a problem," he said, stepping up and loosening his hands where they had been unconsciously gripping the straps of his bag. I was hoping to get a couple on both ears, and—" he pulled his portkey studs from his pocket, "could you put these in?"

"Hmm," she hummed, examining the earrings before nodding. "Yes. I can. Is there anything else you want, or just the piercings today?"

Harry opened his mouth to confirm when he hesitated, looking at the walls of drawings and moving photos showcasing tattoos.

He glanced back at Remus, who gave Harry a soft smile.

"You can ask, Harry. You don't need to be afraid to ask if you want something. It's your birthday. I may say no, but I will carefully consider any requests you have," Remus reassured him, and Harry felt the anxiety in his chest subside.

He gave the man a small smile before asking, "Would you let me get a tattoo? It won't be in a noticeable place, but I want one. I want to make a mark on my body that isn't a scar. Something I chose instead of one that I had no say in or was a requirement for my survival,"

Remus's smile turned sad as Harry explained his desire. He nodded his head slowly, a flash of guilt passing his expression.

"Lily would kill me, but I give my permission," Remus said, and Harry grinned wildly.

"Very well," Marella said and turned away from them to move further into the shop before returning with a portfolio. She opened it and snapped her fingers. Instantly, lights sprang to life around the shop, tiny golden orbs floating to illuminate walls filled with carefully drawn moving pictures.

He twitched, wanting to look closer, but his eyes were drawn back to the woman as she opened the portfolio. He'd assumed there would be drawings, but instead, there were moving photos displaying people showing off different types of piercings and jewellery.

"We shall start with the piercings. What type were you thinking of?" she asked. "I can enchant the piercings with additional enchantments and protections if you desire. They require a touch of magic when the protections are used to recharge, but it does not take much," she told him as they observed the different piercings.

He looked up at her, noticing for the first time the large ornaments of a tanned stone surrounded by gold hanging from her earlobes. Above her right earring, a long bar ran through two spots at the top of her ear.

"I'd like the enchantments, please and...Um," he hesitated, looking back down at the images. His eyes lit up as a girl spun around in the following picture, showing off her piercings proudly. She had two small white studs at the bottom of both lobes and small hoop-like earrings just above the studs.

He pointed at the girl. "Can I get three pairs done like this?" he asked.

She looked up at him, studying him in a way that made him feel like he had a stain on his shirt he hadn't realised was there.

"You can," She said, "Would you like to choose the earrings?"

"Yes, please," Harry said eagerly.

She closed the portfolio before reaching under the counter and pulled out a small box. Opening it expanded it, reminding him of his trunk as rack upon rack of earrings were presented to him.

"Wow," he said appreciatively, extending his hand to the glinting gems and metals but not touching.

His eyes latched onto a pair of tiny black gems that reminded him of the material his Peverell Heir Ring was made of, tiny specs he could barely make out like stars in the sky on the black gem. He pointed at them.

"These, please," he said, looking through her collection. He spotted a set of silver hoop earrings labelled sleepers that looked like plain hoops and were barely a few millimetres thick. As he crouched to look closer, he noticed the metal had been engraved to look like serpents looping to bite their tails with tiny emeralds for eyes, matching his own.

He knew Ron wouldn't like them, but his Slytherin Ring warmed slightly as he looked at the tiny snakes. He smiled fondly as the ring's magic curled around his core, hugging him.

"And these as well, please,"

Remus stood behind him and examined his choices. He grinned.

"They'll look brilliant on you, Cub," He said. Harry's face went bright red. He was very unused to such a compliment.

The shop owner took both earrings and his Portkey before opening the gate for him. He stepped behind the counter, following her to a stool in the corner where a trundle was set up. On it was a variety of long and short needles of various thicknesses.

"I will do it quickly," she promised, and Harry looked up to see her eyes. She must have seen some hint of nerves because she sat and held out her hand.

"Marella," She said.

"Hadrian," He replied, taking her hand and shaking. He felt strange, using his given name, but it also ran smoothly off his tongue and was the first time he'd introduced himself with it. It made a tingling kindle in his stomach.

As they shook, his palm covered a small, realistic heart that pulsed rhythmically onto his skin from hers. It was a fascinating sensation.

"Hadrian," she nodded in greeting, "I will make the piercings with this needle," She explained, reaching for one of the medium-thick needles, "These needles are soaked in dittany extract. The dittany forces the skin to heal around the needle as I continue spinning it, so it does not heal connected to the needle, and a hole will then be created. It can take a day or two for the itching feeling to stop. The earrings will also be coated in dittany, so if the wounds aren't fully healed, they will soon be. You will need to twist them every few hours, just to make sure."

Marella explained the procedure so efficiently that Harry couldn't help but calm down as she spoke in her heavily accented low tone.

Piercings hurt far less than he thought they would. Far less than a werewolf bite or a beating.

Considering what he'd endured growing up, he realised the irrational fear was stupid. Quicker than he realised, he had six new piercings and three beautiful earrings in each ear, the sleepers at the base of his lobes, followed by the stones in the middle with the portkeys at the top.

Marella grabbed a mirror for him, showing off the glittering pieces in his lobes, and making Harry grin brightly. Remus, who had been watching with dimly glowing, protective eyes, grinned at Harry.

"Thank you!" Harry said. Marella nodded, a small, almost invisible smile on her face. Harry brushed his hair back from his ears, noting how long it was getting. Usually, around this time of month, he would have already given it a cut, keeping it short enough to brush the top of his ears and staying off his neck.

"Would you still like a tattoo?" She asked, and Harry nodded quickly.

"Please!"

She gave a nod before she swept into the back room.

He stood but did not follow. Instead, he wandered along the walls, examining the different pictures, with Remus trailing and commenting as they looked. One wall was entirely taken up by different drawings of random things, from objects to plants to people. Another wall was filled with animals roaming around, brushing against one another as they wandered from frame to frame.

The back wall was covered in runes and symbols, some of which he recognised from the cleansing rituals and others from his heirlooms. One in particular he noticed was the exact symbol on his Peverell Heir Ring. It had the same simplicity as the carving on his ring, and he quickly took the picture down from where it had been magically stuck to the wallpaper.

Returning from the back room, Marella noticed his chosen picture and studied him contemplatively.

"Do you know what this symbol means?" She finally asked.

"Not really," He lied. "I saw it in a book,"

She nodded, "It has had many meanings and origins throughout history. Few know its true beginnings, but due to Grindelwald's reign of terror upon Europe, it is more commonly associated with the Deathly Hallows."

"The Deathly Hallows?"

"Yes," She said, taking the picture from him with delicate hands. “I was told a story as a child from my Tēta. The story begins with the three Peverell Brothers. Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus,”

She placed the picture on the counter, staring at it entranced.

"Death promised to create any three items the brothers desired in trade for a bet. They swore that should they die within three years, their souls would be collateral and they would serve death as his servants. There is the Elder Wand," She said, tracing the vertical line that cut through the symbol's centre, "Created for Antioch, the eldest and proudest brother and is rumoured to be the most powerful wand in existence, unbeatable in duels. The Resurrection Stone," She traced the circle, "Was created for Cadmus, the middle and shrewdest brother, to revive the lover that passed before him. And finally, the Invisibility Cloak," She traced the triangle.

Harry refused to twitch and reach for the cloak he had innocently placed in his warded bag that morning.

"Created for Ignotus, the youngest and cleverest brother and the only one who survived Death's bet. Antioch was killed in his sleep after bragging about the power of his wand weeks after it was created. Cadmus hung himself two years later when his lover returned to him in a spectral state, deeply depressed, and could no longer take it. And Ignotus passed in peace at an ancient age, handing down his Lordship to his son and the cloak that hid him from danger and kept his line alive. When his time came, he greeted Death like an old friend."

Harry stayed silent as she led him into the back room, his mind turning from the information.

So, Beedle the Bard's short tale had some truth to it. He didn't know if the claims that Death created the items were valid, but the people and items had been, that much he was sure.

After all, he'd seen the name Ignotus Peverell on his Family tree, linked to his brothers Antioch and Cadmus. But why did Marella's family pass down this version of the tale, which is more personal than in Beedle the Bard? Did they have a connection to his ancestors?

Remus had said that the Potters had returned to England from the mainland, which was why they'd been excluded from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Had the Potters/Peverells escaped persecution and, at that time, made a connection with Marella's family and had their history discovered, only to become a story for their children?

Did that mean the wand and stone were real too? Did he have a right to inherit them like the Cloak of Invisibility? They weren't on his Heirlooms list, nor was the Slytherin Grimoire. Did the list only include those overseen by Gringotts?

Marella had him sit in a chair as she started fussing with items, taking inkpots from the shelves and floating them around the room as she worked while Harry remained stuck in his head. Remus sat beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts, his fingers twitching like he wanted to take Harry's hand to comfort him—or perhaps himself.

"So, is this the only one you wanted today?" She asked. Harry thought for a moment.

He glanced at Remus sheepishly before admitting, "I did want another, but I'm unsure what to get."

"How about a manifestation of your Spirit Guide?" Marella suggested.

"Spirit Guide?" Harry asked.

"Your Spirit Guide has been watching over you, like a shadow. It protects you and ensures you are on the right path. My Tēta believed that when you go down the road of evil, something has corrupted your guide, blinding it to the righteous paths. I can channel the spirit intertwined in your magic to appear and tattoo it on your skin. It is a powerful bit of magic, and the spirit will strengthen in this state. Some believe they bring better luck, but I enjoy the companionship.” She glanced at the little scarab beetle, watching Harry over her shoulder, soon joined by the little gecko. Both were solid black shapes, just like shadows, with wispy golden eyes.

"Yes! I want one!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

"Come with me," she said, taking him through a beaded curtain to a small room with a ritual circle carved into the floor. "Cut your palm and let the blood pour into the carvings," she instructed, handing over a simple silver dagger. He did as asked and waited patiently as she began chanting in a language he had never heard before.

It was an enchanting experience, especially when he felt something inside him, in his core, pulse warmly, exhilarated, before it burst out of his chest, racing around the room in a blur of silver light.

Harry whipped his head around to track it before it slowed and stopped in front of him. He stared wide-eyed at the animal that looked curiously like a patronus conjuration in the way silver light surrounded it in a ghostly vapour.

It was a shiny, pure white snake with a head almost the same width as its body. Its eyes were pupilless silver orbs, not showing the memorable slitted pupils he would expect the snake to have. Golden flecks swam within the orbs as the snake sized him up, much like he was doing. The eyes were mirror images of his core.

"Hi," he whispered, "I'm Harry," He said.

The snake watched him before lowering its thin head into a bow.

The snake faded, but suddenly, he felt the flame flickering since the night he'd accepted the bite pulse brightly in his chest.

Another shadow burst from him, not from his core but from the small space beside his heart. It bound around the room like the snake had and stopped before Harry. It was the large form of a pitch-black wolf with glowing green eyes.

Harry held his breath as he lifted a hand and gasped as the Wolf stepped closer to nudge contentedly at his palm with its snout. The wolf moved closer, rubbing against him, and let him brush his hand down its sleek pelt.

It was like touching a solid shadow but had the texture of fur.

The wolf nuzzled his stomach before stepping back and bowing before it, too_, dissolved into silver vapour.

Marella stopped chanting. Harry hadn't realised she had been doing so, wholly entranced by his Spirit Guides.

He looked up and found her grinning before she spun around and left the room, and Harry followed. She pulled a trolley around a corner and set it up beside a very comfortable-looking chair, identical to those he'd seen through the windows of Muggle Tattoo Parlours.

He sat down, Remus pulling up a chair to sit beside him. Marella finished setting up her station, and Harry reached for his Guardian's hand.

Marella glanced at them and spoke quietly, "Those with two Spirit guides are scarce, Hadrian. I am the only other person I know who has had more than one," Her grin widened, a spark of excitement lighting her features. "Let us begin,"

~~~

They left Marella's Parlour with an itch in Harry's ears, a stinging sensation like sunburn moving around on his arm and chest, and a burning on the back of his neck between his shoulders, just low enough for his shirt collar to hide it.

Harry held his arm up in the dying sunlight while his legs tingled with pins and needles from staying seated for so long. It had taken six hours for Marella to carefully paint all three tattoos, needing to use his blood in the ink, a constant low chant that Harry felt was now permanently stuck in his head and the finest brush in the world to make the details as carefully as humanly possible. 

He had thought it would take longer as muggle tattoos did, but she had reassured him that his snake was far more straightforward than what she usually had to do for Spirit Guides.

The only problem they'd found was how it laced around his arm beneath his skin in a way Marella had snickered and proclaimed the guide a troublemaker.

She explained that the Guide lived inside him in his magic and stayed beneath his skin. He had to continuously move his arm up, down, and over to give her the best possible access to the squirming serpent, which wriggled around. Harry wondered if the process had been ticklish for it.

The wolf took the shortest time. The beast had stayed sitting directly on his sternum between his core and heart, curled up like it was sleeping, and barely needed more than an hour.

They had agreed to do the Deathly Hallows symbol, his family symbol, first to get it out of the way and permitted Marella to choose where it should go for him.

He had examined the emblem in a mirror before starting on his Spirit Guide, loving the simplistic black symbol, the crisp lines sprinkled with silver and gold like his heir ring, which sparkled and shifted like it was made of liquid.

Marella had told him the snake and wolf would need a few days before they started to become more energetic. She had given him a book about the types of snakes worldwide to help him identify his pure white one, and a book about wolves to narrow down his breed. She had also informed him that Spirit Guides often mimicked their real-world counterparts, taking their instincts and habits from them. 

He could feel the wolf sleeping in the centre of his chest, breathing in sync with his heart, beating to the pulse of the small flame in his chest.

He could feel his serpentine guide sluggishly slithering around his bicep, the glistening black scales slowly disappearing beneath his shirt sleeve. It was a strange feeling.

The sting moved with the snake, but there was also a slight pressure grounding him in a way he'd never known he'd need. He felt the snake move from his arm, slithering over his shoulders to rest its head just beneath the collar of his hoodie. 

He glanced down at it as he and Remus left Knockturn Alley, catching sparkling silver eyes peeking up at him. A tiny sliver of tongue darted out to flutter along his skin in a tickling sensation.

With the sun dipping, Harry decided they needed to get a move on to their new home—the Hallows Cottage. He glanced up at Remus, who was already looking down at him, eyes glancing at the earrings with a fond look.

"Your mother had two pairs of earrings in each ear," Remus said quietly as they walked past groups of Hogwarts students enjoying their summer holiday together, witches and wizards doing last-minute shopping after work. "She got them done in her seventh year. They were a present from your grandparents—a gift for becoming the Head Girl."

"Do you have any photos?" Harry asked.

Remus considered and nodded his head slowly. "I believe so... I'll try to find them when you return to school and send them to you. We've got too much to do over the next month, so you'll have to be a bit patient,"

Harry grinned sardonically, "I've got a lot of practice with patience, Moony. I'll wait," Remus's smile strained, but Harry didn't let him think on it too long.

They stepped into a space between two buildings, and Remus wrapped his hand around Harry's right wrist. Harry focused on the Peverell magic swimming within him and directed it towards his Heir Rings, transforming the golden Potter ring into black with silver flecks of beautiful, peculiar material.

The Peverell magic crept into his palm before surging up his arm, briefly nudging the snake licking his collarbone before it raced into the twisted tree earring on his left ear with a thought from Harry.

He felt something hook behind his navel, and he was tugged back into the aether as his feet left the ground. Remus was dragged along with him.

Harry felt dizzy as the wind blew past his face when suddenly his feet landed on the ground, and he collapsed in a heap on the grass, swallowing down the bile crawling up his throat. A broad hand rubbed up and down his back, even as the man attached to it was on his knees and looking quite green.

"I hate Wizard travel," Harry groaned, and Remus chuckled hoarsely.

"I have to agree with you there. The only method I've found that doesn't send me to the ground is Apparition, and not side-along, mind," Harry laughed.

They stood up and looked around. Before them was a wall of trees—a combination of towering Elm, thick, twisting Oaks, colourful Beech, and indomitable Ash. Harry followed the trail of a small creek that broke off into two paths. The larger led further into the forest, while the smaller became a bubbling brook, passing the small clearing Harry and Remus had dropped in.

Harry turned to follow the brook's path only to drop his jaw in shock.

The Hallows Cottage was a two-story building that looked like it had been plucked from the fantasy books Harry had read in the Little Whinging library as a small child after running away from Dudley and his little gang of delinquents.

The steep, gabled roof was abundant with thick moss and vines over the rare patches of black tiles. The outer walls were made of blue-grey-stained wood, and two light-coloured stone chimneys rose from the ground floor on opposite sides of the cottage and emerged above the roof's highest point.

Every face of the cottage showed black wood framing pane glass windows on both the first and second floors, looking out to the woods surrounding the sides and back. Harry stepped onto the stone pathway, ambling towards the cottage as he continued to gape, dumbstruck by his magical surroundings.

The gardens were filled with luscious shrubs, low hedges, and an assortment of herbs and flowers, tiny insects sleeping amongst the leaves and petals.

They passed by a low wall surrounding the estate, made of the same stones as the chimney and covered in vines growing twinkling periwinkle blue flowers, flashing like stars and ringing angelically like wind chimes.

As Harry passed the gate, he felt the ward glide over his skin. He took Remus's hand on instinct, not hesitating to press against the wards. His skin tingled, and the smell of ash and lilies filled his nose as the ward's magic swarmed around them, pressing down.

The ward backed off when it felt the magic in his core and ring. Harry felt a tugging sensation and a welcoming warmth from the ward and grinned.

"The Cottage accepts us now," Harry told Remus, who looked around in bewilderment. "We can come and go as we like without worrying about setting off the defences,"

Remus grinned back at Harry. "Want to have a look inside?" Harry nodded eagerly.

Stepping up the stairs onto the wrap-around porch, Harry felt the magic of the cottage reach out to him, beckoning him closer. He placed his hand on the large silver knocker and felt a wave of magic envelop him. It swirled around his core eagerly, like returning home to a puppy after being out at work all day.

The thick, wooden double doors swung open to reveal the most open-planned living space Harry had ever seen. The floors were beautiful stained wooden planks, and the walls were covered in a dark grey, almost black wallpaper that, upon closer inspection, had faint, slightly darker details of swirling patterns interspersed throughout it.

Glowing orbs hung across the ceiling, dim in the soft light flooding the large windows on three sides of the room and glowing brighter as the natural light died on the horizon. Simple metal sconces lined the walls, holding thick, bone-white candles that smelled of Lilies, Carnations, and Chrysanthemums.

The kitchen was on the left-most side of the large room. It had a table-sized island counter made of smooth, three-inch-thick white marble.

Black wooden cupboards and drawers were beneath the island, and counters were along the walls. A deep, black metal sink sat in the centre of the counter under the pane-glass windows.

Hanging in front of the shelves, just within reach of Harry's shorter stature, were dozens of small pots with bunches of herbs and winding vines of bright berries. On the left of the island was an enormous brick oven and stove that, when Harry approached, felt a subtle barrier meant to prevent any sparks from spreading into the rest of the cottage.

In front of the kitchen was a giant dining table made of deep mahogany, surrounded by ten chairs. Harry could only describe the space at the back of the room as a personal library, with every wall made of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

Plush lounges and armchairs were upholstered in forest green velvet and made of wood, like the dining table. Air plants hung from long, thick ropes around the room, and small plants were on every little table between the seats that faced the giant fireplace in a semicircle.

A soft forest green rug filled the space between the lounges, and Harry dug his toes into the fibres. Remus trailed his fingers along the thousands of spines on the bookshelves.

"There are books here that have been banned by the ministry for centuries. You won't find most of these books in any store, even Knockturn Alley. There have been raids on Pureblood homes for lesser titles than in this collection," Remus whispered reverently, pulling a navy, hard-cover book from the shelf at his eyeline.

Harry looked at the cover, 'Faoladh—Secrets of the Wolf'. He looked at the shelf and noticed that every book was part of a series called 'Creatures—Secrets and Abilities' before the ministry oppressed them. The author's name rang familiar to Harry.

"Iolanthe Peverell," Harry whispered, reading the author of the three initial books in the series. Harry noticed that she had used her married name instead, Iolanthe Potter, for the rest of the series.

"This series was burned before Hogwarts was established. It's referenced in many Goblin-written books about our kind and others. Iolanthe was a well-respected woman among creatures and loved them equally. One day, she and her husband, Cyrus Potter, disappeared with their baby boy. A few hundred years later, people forgot the Peverells had married into the family and were finally left alone.

"A few dozen years after Hogwarts was established, the Potters returned with a mix of Eastern European blood and looked different to the English wix that stayed behind. They were excluded from The Sacred Twenty-Eight; however, the Hogwarts Founders accepted them despite the rest of the Purebloods' racism, so the Potters sent their children to the school every generation," Remus said.

They had sat down on the comfortable lounge, Harry content to listen to the man's story. During his downtime, Remus had researched Harry's heritage while Harry was studying by himself. Harry would forever be grateful for the dedication the man had put into him, even if a bit of guilt drove him.

Harry was about to ask a question when they were interrupted by a loud 'Pop' that had Harry jumping from his chair, his wand flicking from its holster into his hand and a stunning spell on his lips.

Remus was beside him, wand pointed at a tiny creature with giant bat-like ears, grey, wrinkled skin and wearing a small, clean white pillowcase. Large, watery brown eyes stared up at the two wands pointing at it, and the creature leapt back and ducked for cover behind an armchair.

Another 'pop' and a bigger version of the tiny hiding creature appeared before them with an ancient look in its dimming coal-black eyes and wearing a large black pillowcase.

Harry dropped his wand, his hand grabbing Remus's wrist to make the man copy him before he dropped to a knee and smiled apologetically at the tiny creature.

"You're a house elf," Harry said quietly, eyes scanning the elderly elf carefully. The old elf nodded, brows furrowing as he looked back at Harry inquisitively.

Another 'Pop' and a third house elf appeared in another white pillowcase. She was younger than the elderly elf but older than the adolescent elf, still hiding behind the chair. She had grass-green eyes that were too large for her face and a stern expression on her lips, oddly reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley.

"Tinsky!" She barked in that high-pitched tone Harry quickly realised was how all house elves sounded. "You is meant to be greeting the new masters, not cower and hide like a child!" She squeaked-shouted, making the hidden elf, Tinsky, pop its little head around the chair, her hairless eyebrows wrinkled indignantly.

"They is pointing wands at Tinsky!" Tinsky squeaked back in an impossibly higher pitch, enraged by the other elf. "Mama is not seeing it! They is threatening Tinsky!"

"We're sorry," Harry interrupted as the third elf's face contorted into even more fury, grey skin turning bright red. "You startled us, and we weren't expecting there to be any house-elves still living here," he explained, his voice soft, as he smiled invitingly at the little elf.

"You is apologising to Tinsky?" Tinsky asked, eyes growing wide in surprise and disbelief. "Master apologizes to Tinsky?" She looked at her mother in bewilderment. "You is not telling Tinsky that Masters know how to apologize!" She glared at her mother, whose jaw had dropped in horror at what Harry had said and then even further by her daughter.

"Masters is not supposed to apologize to house-elves!" Her mother snapped back before turning to Harry and smiling.

Harry blinked. He felt deja vu from the summer before second year when Mrs. Weasley had shouted at Ron and the Twins for stealing Mr. Weasley's flying car before welcoming Harry in for breakfast as though nothing had happened.

"Greetings, Masters. I is Mimsy, carer and head of staff of the Peverell Estates. This is Elder Hobbi, mine's great-grandfather and oldest of the Peverell elves. He is our elder and raised the last two Peverell lords," Mimsy said, bowing to Harry.

Harry glanced at the elderly elf, noticing a knobbly walking stick that rattled on the floorboards from the poor elf's geriatric trembling. He had far more wrinkles than the other two younger elves and had tufts of white hair growing from within his large, bat-like ears.

"And this be Mimsy's Daughter, Tinsky. Tinsky's father be in the forest, foraging wild vegetables for eating," she continued politely and far more eloquently than Dobby had been able to speak.

"It's nice to meet you, Mimsy and Tinsky. It's an honour to meet you, Elder Hobbi," Harry nodded to the elderly elf, who shakily bowed to Harry.

In a croaking, high-pitched voice that didn't match the elf's appearance, Hobbi said, "Hobbi is happy to meet another Peverell Heir, little master, finally. Hobbi is the keeper of knowledge and guardian of libraries. I is managing this little library and the main library at Seance Manor. If little Master is needing Hobbi, little master is calling for Hobbi,"

The elf sighed like the speech had taken more energy than the elf could give before he clicked his fingers and 'popped' away. Harry blinked, looking to Mimsy, who was shaking her head and sighing.

"Elder Hobbi be's very old and is taking longer naps. We are letting Elder Hobbi rest," she clapped her little hands. "What is Masters' names?"

Harry looked up at Remus, who gestured for him to make the introductions. "I'm Hadrian Evans-Potter," Harry began, smiling. “I'm the heir to the Peverell Family, and this is my Guardian, Remus Lupin, but I call him Moony. We'll be living here from now on because some people want to keep me in a bad place."

The elves' eyes widened.

"Bad people be coming after little master?" Tinsky asked. Harry wanted to say it was hypocritical of the smallest elf in the room to call him little, but he didn't want to find out today if these elves were taught to punish themselves. He was too tired to deal with that, so he nodded instead.

"Do you mind giving us a tour? This room is lovely, but I'd like to see the rest of the property," Remus said, bending down onto one knee beside Harry so they were both eye-level with the elves.

Mimsy nodded her head primly while Tinsky grinned and jumped up and down excitedly.

"Tinsky give tour!" she squeaked, waving her arms. "Tinsky knows Hallows Cottage like back of hand!" she announced. Harry grinned at her while Mimsy gave her a disapproving glower.

"That'd be lovely, Tinsky. Thank you," Harry said and stood with Remus as Tinsky started skipping away from the Library/Reading Area past the dining table and towards two sets of double doors facing one another on either side of a wide staircase leading to the upper floor.

"Tinsky's tour is starting top to bottom!" she declared, appearing at the top of the stairs with a snap of her fingers. Harry laughed and quickly followed her, taking the stairs two at a time while Remus and Mimsy followed sedately behind them.

On the upper floor of the cottage were four bedrooms and a Master Suite, which Remus refused Harry's offer to take and insisted Harry take himself as the property's owner.

The ordinary bedrooms were regularly sized, with a large bed, wardrobe, desk, and bedside table. The colour scheme was the same as the downstairs area, with deep greens, warm browns, light creams, and black accents. Two bedrooms had personal small en-suites, while the remaining two shared a larger bathroom with a deep bathtub with magic taps that released different bathing potions.

Remus took one of the rooms connected to the shared bathroom, claiming that a long hot bath after a full moon was one of the only ways to soothe the sore muscles of a monthly transformation. Potions for pain were less effective on Werewolves, especially around the full moon. Harry could only be grateful that it was only potions that relieved pain that were now less effective on him.

Harry was happy to discover that the Master Suite's private bathroom also came with a deep claw tub bath that Harry felt looked more like a spa tub he'd seen his Aunt spying on in the neighbour's yard while chewing her tongue enviously. It also had the magic potion spout, and Harry was happy to learn he could make the potion smell like whatever he wanted.

The rest of the Master Suite was larger than the other bedrooms, with an enormous bed he estimated was King-sized, while the others were doubles or queens.

"These appliances look more modern than I was expecting," Harry observed, tapping the ceramic bath with a knuckle.

Mimsy spoke from the door where she'd stood in every room, dutifully waiting. "We house elves are very good at renovations," She informed him. "We's like looking at catalogues and magazines and we's gossip with other elves when we's shopping," she told him.

Harry blinked and nodded his head. "Okay... do you like to read muggle magazines too?"

Mimsy shook her head sadly. "It is hard getting muggle magazines and catalogues. They's get suspicious," She informed him. "And they's don't be doing owl post like Wizards,"

"I could get a P.O. box and have them delivered there. You'd only need to take them out of the box when they've been delivered," Mimsy's eyes lit up.

"Little Master Hadrian be doing this for Mimsy?" She asked, and Harry grinned, nodding.

"Of course, but only if you show me how to use that stove and oven in the kitchen. I've only ever used electric and gas appliances before. I've never used one like that," Mimsy bowed her head.

"Of course, Little Master Hadrian, Mimsy be happy to show Little Master," She said.

"You can just call me Harry. Everyone does," Harry said, chuckling at the elf's wide eyes and Tinsky jumping around excitedly.

"Very well, Little Master Harry." She relented after what seemed to be a great deal of effort. Harry sighed, but knew it was a concession to bastardise his name. It would take longer to remove the honorific.

"Thank you. Shall we see the rest of the cottage?" he asked. Tinsky bounced from the room, and they followed.

On the main level, they investigated the two sets of double doors. One led to an office-type space with bookshelves around the walls, and a giant dark wooden desk took up most of the floor space. The other was a sunroom filled with potted plants and a beautifully crafted table with six seats meant for morning and afternoon teas.

Harry was in love with the room. He could imagine himself reading a book with the sun shining through the glass walls and roof, and he wondered what the view of the stars at night would be like.

Beneath the main stairs was another set leading down into the basement. Harry thought it would look like a creepy concrete basement, but was surprised to discover two wooden doors opposite one another.

The left led to a potion laboratory that looked far more inviting than the dungeons at Hogwarts, where the walls were made of soot-stained stone. The floors were smooth, blemish-free stone, and the walls were unreactive marble. Candle sconces ignited as they entered, providing more light than the long, thin grates peaking beneath the roof, which provided ventilation for the fumes.

Long wooden tables lined the walls, with burners and empty cauldrons for simmering, baskets, jars, and hangers full of ingredients, and a square table in the centre of the room for working on current projections and preparing ingredients. A dark metal sink and drying rack stood off to one side, where a rack of empty vials and bottles was displayed.

"He would love this," Remus whispered beside him. Harry looked up to the man.

"Who?" He wondered, eyebrow rising as he tried to think of who Remus knew that would love, let alone use a potions laboratory. Remus's cheeks glowed slightly as he glanced down at Harry, eyes widened slightly.

"Ah..." he coughed into his fist. Harry's right eyebrow joined the left one, hiding beneath the bandage wrapped around his forehead.

"An old friend of yours?" Harry asked, the corner of his lip tugging up. Remus nodded slowly, and something sad and regretful filled his eyes.

"He was... a long time ago. There was a misunderstanding, and... he hates me now," Remus admitted, his hands twisting together.

"Oh... what was the misunderstanding?" Harry asked tentatively. Remus sighed.

"A Sirius misunderstanding. It was always a Sirius misunderstanding," Remus said tiredly.

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Sirius?" he asked.

Remus nodded. "He and James loved playing their little pranks, but sometimes they weren't very... little. Or pranks. They especially loved targeting the Slytherins, which only worsened animosity during those times. James and Sirius hated a particular Slytherin... one who had never done anything wrong until they took it too far, and he retaliated. I like to think that if things had been different, we... but it doesn't matter. I've tried talking to him, but he still loathes me."

Harry tilted his head, "Have you explained your side? Said sorry?" Harry asked.

Remus didn't say anything for a minute. "I tried, but he wouldn't let me speak."

Harry smiled, amused that their roles had been reversed, and he was giving advice. "Did you lock him in a room and refuse to let him out until he listened?"

Remus startled and looked at Harry wide-eyed. "What? No! Of course not!" He said.

Harry laughed, shrugging. "If you're locked in the room together, he can't claim you trapped him alone. Just give him a reason to listen, and then it's up to him whether he forgives," Remus sighed and nodded.

"I'll try it... If he ever gives me a chance," Remus relented.

They moved on to the other room, which, when Harry opened the door, led to another set of stairs descending deeper than the last. This room was three times the size and height of the cottage above, and the floors were glossy, black-stained wood.

Three walls were grey marble, but the back was entirely made of mirrors, reflecting their stunned expressions at them. Strange metal and leather human-shaped contraptions were lined against one wall, each holding plain, smooth sticks that imitated wands.

Another wall had large, thin mats that Harry recognised from watching martial arts classes as a kid through the windows. He'd always wanted to participate, hoping to learn to protect himself from the walrus and baby killer whale he'd lived with in Privet Drive.

The wall where the stairs emerged had dug-out shelves lined up neatly with books in the marble. Harry examined them as Remus stepped into the hall-like room.

"This is a duelling chamber," Remus said reverently, studying the contraptions carefully.

"There are books with shield spells, jinxes and curses of all kinds here," Harry said.

"This space is perfect for your training," Remus told Harry, "We can work on dodging spells and firing the more destructive ones without worry." He wrapped his knuckles against the walls. "There are warding runes carved into the walls. If I'm translating this correctly, there's protection, silencing and shock absorption intertwined in the stone,"

"You is being right, Mr. Moony," Tinsky said excitedly. "The basement is being special and perfect for spells and potions that explode," she informed him. Harry grinned.

"This cottage is brilliant," Harry said. He hummed, wondering at the odd contentedness glowing warmly in his heart. "It's strange," he commented.

"What is?" Remus asked.

Harry glanced at the man before turning back to the books. He couldn't look at Remus as he said, "Finally having a real home,"

~~~