Chapter 4
Harrison glanced at the sprawling Black Manor one last time, its towering structure and shadowy elegance silhouetted against the starry sky. The faint golden light from the windows flickered like restless souls, and though the dinner had been tense, Harrison’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.
“Take me home, Binks,” he said, his voice low and firm, yet tinged with warmth.
The house-elf, a small creature with large, expressive eyes and ears that twitched with every sound, bowed deeply. “Of course, Master Harrison. Binks will take you home right away, sir.”
The elf reached up, gripping Harrison’s hand with surprising strength for its tiny form. In an instant, the world around them shifted. The cool night air of the Black estate gave way to the magical pull of Apparition, the sensation like being sucked through a tight tube. Harrison barely blinked, his focus steady as always.
When the pull ended, they stood at the gates of the Peverell estate, a sprawling mansion nestled on a secluded hilltop. The estate was breathtaking, its black stone walls shimmering faintly under a series of protective enchantments. Ivy crawled along the edges, weaving through ancient carvings that bore the family’s sigil. Tall spires reached toward the heavens, and the entire property emanated a quiet yet undeniable power, as though it had been waiting for centuries for its rightful heir to return.
The gates creaked open, responding to Harrison’s presence alone, their enchanted locks recognizing his magic as they swung inward. The grounds stretched before him, lush gardens framed by cobblestone paths illuminated by glowing orbs of soft light that hovered above the hedges.
“Home sweet home,” Harrison murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the estate’s wards.
Binks followed a step behind, his tiny feet pattering on the stones. “Master Harrison, everything is prepared as you requested. The study is warm, the library has fresh candles, and the kitchen elves have left your favorite meal in case you are hungry.”
Harrison glanced over his shoulder, a rare, genuine smile gracing his face. “Thank you, Binks. You and the others have done well.”
Binks beamed, his chest puffing out with pride. “Binks is always happy to serve Master Harrison!”
As Harrison ascended the front steps, the grand double doors opened with a whisper, the magic within the estate anticipating his arrival. The foyer was as magnificent as ever, with polished marble floors, a sweeping staircase, and walls adorned with ancient tapestries depicting moments of Peverell history.
He paused, taking a deep breath as the familiar energy of the estate washed over him. It was more than a home; it was a fortress, a legacy, and a symbol of his place in the wizarding world.
“Prepare the study for me, Binks,” Harrison said, his tone soft but commanding. “I have much to think about tonight.”
Binks bowed once more before disappearing with a faint pop. Harrison stood for a moment, letting the silence envelop him. The Black family had tested him tonight, and though he had faced them without fear, he knew the game was just beginning.
Turning toward the staircase, he ascended with steady steps, his mind already planning the next move.
The flickering light of enchanted sconces cast soft shadows along the walls of the Peverell Manor as Harrison entered his study. The room was a reflection of its master—elegant yet commanding, with dark mahogany shelves lined with ancient tomes and artifacts that whispered of a time when the Peverell name was both feared and revered. A large desk sat at the center of the room, its surface pristine save for a crystal inkpot and a roll of parchment waiting to be used.
Harrison moved toward the desk with purpose, his emerald-green eyes gleaming with a mix of ambition and determination. He leaned against the edge of the desk, the weight of the night’s events still fresh in his mind. Orion Black’s gaze, the whispers of the Lestranges, the subtle challenge in Arcturus Black’s words—it all replayed in his mind like pieces of a puzzle he was determined to solve.
“Binks,” Harrison called, his voice firm but not unkind.
With a faint pop, the house-elf appeared, bowing deeply. “Master Harrison, sir. What does you need?”
Harrison turned his gaze to the loyal creature, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Binks, I need you to send a personal letter to Lord Black. I’m inviting the entire Black family to dinner tomorrow evening. I want them to see the true power of the Peverell name, to understand what it means to step into this world as my equal—or my ally.”
Binks straightened, his large eyes gleaming with excitement. “Binks will send the letter right away, Master Harrison! It will be delivered with utmost care!”
Harrison nodded. “Good. But that’s not all. I want this manor spotless, every corner polished to perfection. The dining room must be a masterpiece, the gardens pristine, and the wards strengthened. The Blacks are sharp-eyed and proud. They will look for any flaw, and I will not give them the satisfaction of finding one. Can you handle that?”
The house-elf puffed out his chest, his ears twitching with determination. “Binks will make it perfect, sir! The manor will be more beautiful than ever! The Black family will see the greatness of the Peverell name!”
“Excellent,” Harrison said, his voice low but pleased. “Now, fetch my writing set. I’ll draft the letter myself.”
Binks bowed deeply before disappearing with another pop. Moments later, he returned with a silver tray bearing an inkpot, a quill, and fresh parchment. Harrison sat at the desk, his movements precise and deliberate as he dipped the quill into the ink and began to write.
To Lord Arcturus Black,
It was an honor to dine with your family last evening, and I find myself compelled to return the gesture. I hereby extend an invitation to you and the entire Black family to join me for dinner tomorrow evening at Peverell Manor.
The Peverell name has long been synonymous with power and legacy, and I wish to share a glimpse of what that truly means. Let this dinner be a meeting of equals, a chance to strengthen ties and explore the future of our shared ambitions.
I trust you will not disappoint me by declining.
Warm regards,
Harrison Peverell
Harrison leaned back, inspecting the letter with a critical eye before nodding in approval. He rolled the parchment and sealed it with dark green wax bearing the Peverell crest.
“Binks,” Harrison said, handing the letter to the elf. “See to it that this is delivered to Lord Black personally. No one else is to handle it.”
Binks took the letter with reverent care, nodding fervently. “Yes, Master Harrison! Binks will deliver it himself and return straightaway!”
With a soft pop, the elf disappeared, leaving Harrison alone in the study. He rose from the desk, moving to the large window that overlooked the estate. The gardens below glimmered under the moonlight, their paths lined with enchanted lanterns that gave off a soft, ethereal glow.
Harrison’s mind raced as he considered the night ahead. The Blacks were not easily impressed, but this was more than a mere dinner—it was a statement, a declaration of his place among the wizarding elite. He intended to show them the full weight of the Peverell legacy, to leave no doubt in their minds that he was a force to be reckoned with.
Hours passed as the manor came alive with preparation. House-elves scurried through the halls, polishing every surface until it gleamed. The grand dining room was transformed into a vision of opulence, the long table adorned with a centerpiece of enchanted lilies that glowed softly in shifting hues of silver and green. Crystal goblets and gold-trimmed plates were arranged with precision, and the finest linens draped the table in elegant folds.
Harrison oversaw every detail, his sharp eye catching even the slightest imperfections. “No, the candelabras must be centered,” he instructed one elf, his tone firm. “And the lighting—dim it slightly. I want the room to feel inviting but powerful.”
In the kitchen, an elaborate feast was being prepared: roasted pheasant with enchanted spices, butter-poached vegetables that shimmered faintly, and desserts that seemed to defy gravity with their intricate designs.
By the time the sun began to rise, the Peverell Manor stood ready, a testament to Harrison’s determination and vision. As he surveyed the results, a sense of satisfaction settled over him.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured to himself, “they’ll understand. The Blacks, the Lestranges, all of them. They’ll see what it means to stand before a Peverell.”
With that, he turned and ascended the grand staircase, his mind already strategizing for the night ahead. He had set the stage, and now it was time to play the game.