Chapter 3
A Promise Given
I hope you enjoy it.
……
Chapter Three
Harry hunched over a blue, leather-bound book that Remus had given him, titled Protego Proficiency - Mastery in Shield Spells, while The Guardian’s Grimoire - Advanced Shield Charms and Barriers lay open on his right. Next sat a half-eaten bowl of steaming chicken, rice, and green vegetables that Sirius had prepared for him. His sudden obsession with studying had earned mixed reactions from his two best friends. Hermione, predictably, was thrilled by his willingness to dive into academic learning, while Ron thought he was downright mad for doing it with such intensity. Harry chuckled, remembering Ron’s reaction.
“Look, I get it — you-know-who is after you, and you need to be ready. But do you have to be such a Ravenclaw about it? It’s bad enough you’ve ditched me in Divination!” Ron had laughed, shaking his head, when Remus dropped yet another thick book onto the kitchen table for Harry.
“Sorry, Ron,” Harry had replied, briefly glancing up from his studies. “But Sirius is right. I need to learn as much as I can. Once Voldemort’s dead, maybe I can act like a proper teenager.”
Harry noticed the flicker of sympathy in Ron’s face. He wasn’t used to seeing that from his friend, who had often struggled to understand the weight Harry carried. There had been times when Ron was even jealous of what he thought was Harry’s "fame" or "luck." But something had shifted since the battle at the Ministry and after witnessing Harry’s brief duel with Voldemort before Dumbledore had managed to intervene and save his best mate's life. Ron had stopped seeing Harry’s life as enviable. He understood now — or at least, he was starting to.
“When you beat him — and you will — it's going to be chess and Quidditch all day, every day,” Ron had said firmly, trying to lighten the moment.
Harry had smiled but then added, “About Quidditch... I got a hint I might be made captain this year—”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence before Ron’s eyes widened with excitement, far too thrilled for Harry’s liking.
Shaking his head, Harry forced himself back to the task at hand. His attention returned to the passage he was reading in Protego Proficiency. It explained how a skilled caster could extend the Protego shield to protect more than themselves — even adding reflective properties to deflect minor hexes and jinxes. However, the book cautioned that more potent spells, like curses, would shatter the shield instead of bouncing off. The author stressed that the charm should only be used when necessary, as an exhausted or weak caster could quickly fail.
The book beside Harry contained examples of shield charms from various cultures, each with unique incantations and suited to different spells. One example was the Chinese Jinglong Jianhu, or Diamond Shield Charm, a powerful protective spell renowned for its gemstone-like shimmer and nearly impenetrable strength. According to the tome, it was highly effective against hexes, jinxes, and most offensive spells, reflecting them at the caster. However, like all shielding spells Harry had studied, it could not block the Unforgivable Curses. Moreover, it required a significant amount of magical energy to sustain.
"I’ll skip that one, then," Harry muttered, though he made a mental note. Practicing a few might not be a bad idea. Mastering complex spells would at least boost his confidence.
“What’s that, Harry?” Remus asked from the kitchen, where he was washing up after lunch.
“Just looking at shield spells from other countries. They’re interesting, but they all have the same drawbacks.”
“Unforgivable Curses, right?” Remus asked knowingly.
“Yeah. Most of these books even say shielding should be a last resort. It’s not like Voldemort will hit me with a Tickling Jinx.”
“That’s true, but shields are still important. His Death Eaters aren’t all powerful enough to cast Killing Curses nonstop. In a duel, they’ll use other potentially fatal spells but will be mindful about draining their energy so that they will mix in some hexes and charms. You’d pass out if you tried casting three or four fatal curses back to back right now.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Fatal curses? Other than the Killing Curse, I mean.”
“There’s no other spell made purely to kill, but some can be just as dangerous. ‘Diffindo’ can sever limbs or a head from its shoulders if you pour enough power into it. A Blasting Curse could kill under the right conditions. Then, of course, there’s the Entrail-Expelling Curse—”
“Wait, how is that ever used for anything but killing someone? It has curse in the name!” Harry asked, horrified at the thought.
Remus chuckled. “It has practical uses—autopsies, preparing meat for cooking, things like that. Curse can be misleading.”
“Good point,” Harry said, though he still shuddered. “I guess I just always see the darker side of magic.”
“Given your history, that’s understandable. But many spells dark wizards misuse have legitimate purposes.”
Harry fell silent momentarily, recalling the duel between Sirius and Bellatrix. He remembered her screams and the agony she was in before she died. At the time, he thought Sirius had used the Cruciatus Curse, but that wasn’t fatal.
“What did Sirius use on Bellatrix?” he asked cautiously.
Remus hesitated, his lips pressed into a thin line. Before he could respond, another voice came from the dining room.
“The Blood-Boiler,” Sirius said, standing in the doorway, arms folded.
Both Harry and Remus turned to face him. Sirius continued, his tone measured. “It was originally used to purge infections. People believed that raising the body’s temperature—boiling the blood—could expel curses or illnesses. The origins go back to early blood curses.”
“And did it work?”
“Not for curses,” Sirius replied, walking over to sit across from Harry. “But it helped with some infections. We have better potions and spells now, but it was one of the only options back then. That said, it’s not a pleasant way to die, Harry. Nor is it quick. My advice? If it comes to killing, use something faster.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was foolish, driven by the desire for revenge for what she did to Frank and Alice. But in my hubris, I could’ve been hit, or worse, you could’ve been,” Sirius added gravely.
Harry winced at the idea and felt some satisfaction that Neville’s parents had partly been avenged, the thought of killing anyone other than Voldemort twisting his stomach. “I’ve accepted that I’ll have to kill Voldemort. I just haven’t thought about anyone else.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Remus said gently. “The Ministry, the Aurors, and the Order will deal with the rest. You’ve already forced Voldemort’s hand. He hasn’t had time to strengthen his forces. The real challenge will be purging the Ministry of any Death Eater sympathisers.”
“But if it does come to it,” Sirius said, his gaze hardening, “I promise you this—killing your opponent is easier to live with than losing someone you love because you hesitated. It’s normal to find killing unnatural, Harry. I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
He reached across the table, gripping Harry’s forearm before glancing at Harry’s half-eaten lunch. “Now, finish up. You’ll need your strength.”
“Day one of physical conditioning?” Harry asked, a small smile forming.
“Oh yes,” Sirius replied, grinning.
…
Harry and Sirius stood in front of a large, stately Georgian manor, its stone façade gleaming faintly in the late afternoon. The house was symmetrical and grand, with tall, arched windows framed by decorative shutters and ornate stonework around the entrance. Ivy climbed gracefully along one side of the structure, giving it a timeless elegance. The roof was adorned with multiple chimneys, suggesting a sprawling layout within. Despite its grandeur, the place had a restrained dignity—elegant, but not ostentatious.
The land surrounding the manor was vast, stretching out in neat rows of vibrant greenery. Harry could make out various magical crops growing in the distance—plants with glowing tendrils, tall, spindly stalks that shimmered faintly, and even some that moved as though stirred by an unseen breeze. The Greengrass family had built their fortune here, on this thriving farm of magical produce. Closer to the manor was a well-tended garden, lined with hedges and filled with exotic flowers that subtly shifted colors.
Behind the manor, Harry could just make out the edge of an orchard, with trees that seemed to bear unusual fruit, their branches swaying unnaturally even in still air. The scent of fresh earth and faintly magical herbs hung in the air, mingling with the light, crisp breeze.
"Greengrass land, all right," Sirius muttered, a trace of admiration in his voice. The farm was enchanted to support various magical flora, some of which Harry couldn’t even identify. The scale and precision made the manor seem less like a house and more like the beating heart of a magical empire.
“And they agreed to help us because you stopped the head of the house’s wife from taking a Bludger to the face?” Harry asked incredulously.
“You’ve been hit by one, haven’t you? Those bastards hurt,” Sirius replied with a grin.
“Out of the goodness of your heart, right?” Harry smirked, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re not too old for a hiding, young man,” Sirius teased back, but the smile faltered when he noticed something flicker behind Harry’s eyes. The haunted look passed quickly, but Sirius knew precisely where it came from. The Dursleys. He would find a way to make them pay for what they had done to his godson—one way or another.
Before he could offer any comfort, the large front doors of the manor swung open, revealing their hosts. Thomas and Elizabeth Greengrass stood at the entrance, flanked by their daughters, Daphne and Astoria, neatly lined up as the door stopped.
“Sirius Black and Harry Potter, welcome to our home. I trust everything was suitable with the Portkey we provided?” Thomas said with a polite smile.
Sirius had briefed Harry earlier—he would handle the introductions. “It was, thank you. And thank you for allowing us to use part of your land for Harry’s training this summer,” Sirius responded warmly.
“Good, good. This is my wife, Elizabeth, though I believe you are already somewhat acquainted. And these are our daughters, Daphne and Astoria,” Thomas continued, gesturing to his family.
Elizabeth stepped forward, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her pale green summer dress swaying slightly. Harry instantly understood why Sirius might’ve had a crush on her in the past—she was beautiful, with an air of elegance that radiated from her.
“Sirius, it’s a pleasure to see you again. And I must say, I’m glad the wizarding world was wrong about your conviction,” Elizabeth said, her bright blue eyes sparkling as she turned to Harry. “And Harry Potter, the honor is ours. The savior of our world and, if I’m not mistaken, the Chosen One?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Greengrass. Harry’s fine, though. Those titles are given, not earned,” Harry replied, managing to sound more confident than he felt.
“Modest as well. That does you credit, Harry,” Elizabeth said with a warm smile. “I believe you’re in the same year as our Daphne, and Astoria is two years behind you,” she added, gesturing to her daughters.
Harry took in the two girls. Astoria was the more exuberant of the two, her feet bouncing as she grinned broadly. Daphne, nearly a mirror image of her mother, stood poised and expressionless, though Harry could sense a flicker of nervous energy in her eyes.
“Astoria Greengrass! How do you do? A pleasure to meet you, Harry… and you, too, Mr. Black. Is it true you can cast a Patronus?” the younger girl burst out, excitedly skipping forward.
Harry glanced at her father’s mortified expression, the amusement dancing in Sirius’s eyes, and the mix of exasperation from her sister and mother.
“Astoria!” Elizabeth chided gently, clearly embarrassed by her daughter’s enthusiasm.
“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Greengrass. Believe me, I’ve been asked far worse,” Harry replied kindly. “And yes, I can cast a Patronus,” he added, watching Astoria’s eyes grow impossibly wide.
“Wow! That’s impressive. You’ll show me sometime, right?” she asked, practically bouncing on the spot.
“Astoria, I think it’s time for Daphne to introduce herself,” Thomas interjected, his tone gentle but with an unmistakable firmness that brought Astoria’s excitement to a pause.
Daphne stepped forward, her demeanour calm and composed as she gave Harry a polite nod. “Harry. Mr. Black,” she said softly, her voice quiet and measured, though there was a hint of something more profound in her eyes.
Harry felt an unexpected mix of familiarity and awkwardness wash over him. They had been in the same year for five years at Hogwarts, sharing the same corridors and classrooms, yet their paths had rarely crossed outside the occasional shared class. House rivalry had kept them at a distance, with Slytherins and Gryffindors rarely mingling, especially after the events surrounding Voldemort’s return.
“Uh, hey - lo, Daphne,” he replied, instantly regretting opening his mouth. "Heylo, who the hell says heylo? Is it hey or hello? What is wrong with you? “It’s… good to finally meet you properly.”
“Right,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly as if she were processing the strangeness of their encounter; if she was judging his moronic introduction, she didn’t show it. “It feels odd to introduce ourselves when we’ve spent so long in the same year.”
Harry chuckled softly, gently moving his fingers against his thumb behind his back. “Yeah, it does. I don't think we’ve ever spoken.”
Daphne’s lips quirked into a small smile, surprising him. “True enough. Though I suppose that’s the nature of house rivalry.”
Harry nodded, recalling the countless times he had exchanged glares with Slytherins during Quidditch matches or in the standard room, the animosity built into every interaction. It was hard to imagine that the walls built from those experiences could come down.
“Well, perhaps you two could change that!” Astoria piped up, her youthful enthusiasm cutting through the tension. “Two daring students smashing down walls built long ago to overcome all odds!”
Daphne shot her younger sister a warning glance, her expression mixed with embarrassment and irritation. “Astoria!” she chided, a hint of exasperation in her tone.
“Sorry!” Astoria replied, her eyes wide with innocence, though the mischief dancing behind them was unmistakable. When Daphne turned back to Harry and Sirius, Astoria leaned slightly toward Harry and mouthed quietly, “I’m not sorry,” a playful grin spread across her face.
Harry had to fight to suppress a laugh, surprised by the younger girl’s audacity.
Thomas Greengrass stepped forward, his demeanour shifting to one of quiet authority. “Now that introductions are over, if you follow me, I’d like to show you the private field where you’ll be training,” he said, gesturing for Sirius and Harry to follow him.
“Lead the way,” Sirius replied, a sense of enthusiasm in his voice. Harry felt a rush of anticipation as he stepped beside his godfather; glancing back at Daphne, Astoria, and Elizabeth, he smiled.
“It was a pleasure to meet you until next time,” he offered, then walked on after the other two men.
Thomas guided them through the grounds and pointed to a distant expanse bordered by tall hedges. “That’s where you’ll be training. It’s secluded enough to minimise distractions and offers plenty of space for whatever exercises you have in mind,” he explained, his voice carrying a note of pride.
Harry squinted at the field, which was more significant than anticipated. “It looks perfect,” he said to Sirius, his excitement bubbling. The green grass stretched before them, dotted with ancient oak trees that provided ample shade.
“Indeed,” Thomas replied, nodding approvingly. “The land has been in our family for generations, cultivated to sustain magical crops. It’s also a great place for practicing spells without worrying about collateral damage. That and the ministry will not know you're practicing magic here.” He paused, his gaze thoughtful. “And I trust you’ll be able to make the most of it.”
“Absolutely,” Sirius said, glancing at Harry with a grin. “We’re going to take full advantage of every inch of it.”
Harry felt a sense of purpose settling in as they walked closer to the field.
“Feel free to use whatever equipment you need,” Thomas continued. “We have several training dummies and other resources stored nearby.” He pointed toward a small but rather fancy-looking shed on the far side of the field, partially hidden behind a cluster of trees.
“Thanks, Thomas,” Sirius replied, grateful for the support. “This will help a lot.”
“Of course. The more prepared Harry is, the better. Our world is again counting on you, and for that, I am sorry,” Thomas said, a hint of seriousness returning to his tone. “And Sirius, you know how to keep him in line, I trust?”
Sirius chuckled, feigning innocence. “Oh, I’d never dream of it.”
Harry, suppressing a grin, spoke. “Right, because you’re such a model of discipline.”
“Just wait,” Sirius said, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re in for quite the summer.”
As they reached the edge of the training field, Harry took a deep breath, feeling a surge of nervous energy.
“Alright then,” Thomas said, returning to give them space. “I’ll leave you to get settled. If you need anything, just call for me.” With that, he turned and walked back toward the manor, leaving Harry and Sirius standing on the edge of the field.
“Well, that went well, don’t you think?” Sirius asked, turning to Harry with a playful grin.
“I think so!” Harry replied, his enthusiasm still bubbling beneath the surface.
“Ignoring that whole ‘hello’ business, of course,” his godfather said innocently, eyeing him from the corner of his vision. Harry felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“I got my words muddled!” he protested, defensive yet sheepish.
“Oh, I know,” Sirius chuckled, clearly enjoying Harry’s discomfort. “We all heard it, pup.”
Harry glared at him, but it was hard to maintain his annoyance with Sirius’s infectious laughter filling the air. “It’s not funny!” he retorted, though he couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“Don’t worry, Harry. Most boys lose their tongues around pretty girls. It’s a rite of passage!” Sirius teased, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Harry went to draw his wand, fully intending to hex his godfather back to Azkaban, but the spark of humor in Sirius’s eyes held him back. “Get in the field, and let’s start training, shall we?” Harry said, trying to ignore his godfather’s laughter as he marched toward the center of the field.
“Now that’s the spirit!” Sirius called after him, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “But remember, focus! We can’t have you getting distracted by—”
“Shut it, Sirius!” Harry interrupted, grinning despite himself. He couldn’t help it; his godfather's teasing always lit his mood, even in moments of impending dread.
“Alright, alright. But put the wand away, Harry,” Sirius said, his tone steady and serious now.
“Sorry?” Harry asked, tilting his head in confusion.
“Conditioning training—you don’t need your wand yet,” Sirius clarified, his eyes twinkling mischievously. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a hay bale that was as wide as Harry was tall. It landed with a soft thud on the ground, a testament to Sirius’s magic and the challenge ahead.
“Alright, I’m going to tie this to your back, and you’re going to lap the field once with it,” Sirius instructed, his voice shifting to a more authoritative tone.
Harry’s heart sank a little at the thought of running with the weight of the hay bale strapped to him. Only at that moment did he truly understand how brutal this would be. He glanced at the hay bale, imagining it pulling at him with every step, and the reality of what Sirius expected began to set in.
Taking a deep breath, Harry squared his shoulders.
“Fine, let’s do this,” he said, trying to inject some bravado into his words, though some of him was already questioning his life choices.
Sirius chuckled, moving behind him to tie the hay bale securely around his waist. As the rough twine tightened against him, he was thankful for the apparent cushioning charm.
“On your mark, then!” Sirius called out, stepping back to give Harry space. “Remember, it’s just one lap. You can do it! Oh, and don't vomit on the grass.”
“Go!”
…
Elizabeth Greengrass stood in the spacious kitchen inside the manor, preparing tea while the afternoon sun filtered through the windows. The sound of laughter from outside carried in, and she smiled, reminiscing about her youth.
“Did you see Harry blush?” Astoria giggled, plopping onto a kitchen stool, her excitement spilling over. “He looked like he’d just seen a Boggart!”
Daphne leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You were a bit much, you know,” she said, trying to sound disapproving but unable to suppress a faint smile. “Rushing to introduce yourself like that. What if he thought you were just being ridiculous?”
Astoria shrugged, unfazed. “I think he thought it was fun! Besides, he didn’t seem to mind. He was laughing! And he can do a Patronus! That’s amazing!”
“I suppose,” Daphne replied, her tone contemplative. “But it was a little… unexpected. We’ve been in the same school for five years, and I’ve never really spoken to him. I always thought of him as the Boy Who Lived, a Gryffindor with everything handed to him.”
Elizabeth set the teapot down, turning to face her daughters. “It’s understandable to have preconceptions, dear, especially with the stories we hear. But meeting someone in person can change everything.”
Astoria leaned forward, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “He’s not like I expected at all! He seemed… normal. Not at all like the famous hero everyone makes him out to be. And did you notice his clothes? They’re so much nicer than the hand-me-downs he usually wears at school!”
Daphne raised an eyebrow.
“I guess that’s true,” she admitted. “But I can’t help but wonder what he thinks of us. What he knows about Slytherins.”
“Perhaps you should ask him from what Astoria has told me his only real experience is that little runt Malfoy,” Elizabeth suggested gently. “You might find he shares your doubts about the rivalry. This is a chance to redefine how you see each other.”
“I don’t know,” Daphne replied, her brow furrowing slightly. “It’s not that easy. I’ve been taught to view Gryffindor's as reckless and loud for years. And here’s Harry Potter, who embodies all of that. It feels strange to consider him a person instead of just a name suddenly.”
Astoria jumped in, her enthusiasm undeterred. “But that’s the point! We can get to know him and see beyond the stories. Maybe he’s just as curious about us!”
Daphne turned her sister's words over in her mind. “Maybe,” she said slowly, contemplating the idea.
“You can’t judge someone by their house or their title. It’s what you discover about them that truly matters.” Elizabeth said, pouring steaming tea into delicate cups.
At that moment, Thomas stepped back into the kitchen. He caught the tail end of their conversation, a curious smile crossing his face. “What are we discussing that has you all so animated?”
“Just Harry Potter,” Astoria said, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “We were thinking about getting to know him better!”
Thomas chuckled, “I confess he is different from what I expected, but just remember he is here for training; please don't disturb them whilst they are in the middle of that.”
Elizabeth nodded, glancing toward the window that overlooked the training field in the distance. “Yes, let’s give them some space. But it’s nice to see you two showing interest. Remember, just don't say anything to anyone outside of this house.”
Astoria nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe we can plan to invite him over for tea after he’s done training!”
“We will see Astoria, for now, go and do your summer homework”
“Really? it's the first week off!” she protested, but her defiant nature died when her mother fixed her with her well-known glare.
“Urgh, fine!”
……
I hope you enjoyed this chapter