Chapter 5
The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Peverell Manor, casting a golden glow on the polished marble floors. Harrison stood at the top of the grand staircase, his emerald-green eyes scanning the flurry of activity below. House-elves darted about, their small hands working tirelessly to perfect every detail for the evening. The grand dining room had been transformed into a masterpiece, with towering arrangements of enchanted flowers, flickering silver-green candles, and place settings that gleamed under the magical chandeliers.
Dressed in his finest robes—deep emerald with intricate silver embroidery in the shape of the Peverell crest—Harrison exuded power and elegance. The fabric shimmered faintly as he moved, tailored to perfection to enhance his sharp features and commanding presence. Around his neck, a simple but unmistakable pendant of the Peverell symbol rested, a silent declaration of his lineage.
“Binks,” Harrison called, his voice steady but firm.
The loyal house-elf appeared with a soft pop, bowing deeply. “Yes, Master Harrison! How can Binks serve?”
“Ensure everything is flawless,” Harrison said, his gaze sweeping the room. “And have the seating arrangement ready. The Blacks are not a family to be kept waiting.”
Binks straightened, his chest puffing out with pride. “It will be perfect, Master Harrison! Binks will see to it!”
Satisfied, Harrison descended the staircase, his boots clicking softly against the marble. He spent the remainder of the morning overseeing final preparations, the sharpness of his gaze catching every detail. By mid-afternoon, the manor stood ready, a beacon of Peverell legacy and power.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first signs of the Black family’s arrival began. The low crack of Apparition echoed through the grounds, signaling their approach. Harrison stood in the grand foyer, his posture impeccable, as the doors opened to reveal the Blacks in all their imposing glory.
Arcturus Black entered first, his gray eyes scanning the room with practiced calculation. He was dressed in elegant black robes trimmed with silver, his presence commanding as he inclined his head toward Harrison.
“Lord Peverell,” Arcturus said smoothly. “You certainly know how to make an impression.”
“Lord Black,” Harrison replied with equal composure, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Welcome to Peverell Manor. I trust your journey was uneventful?”
“Indeed,” Arcturus said, stepping aside as the rest of his family began to filter in.
Walburga entered next, her sharp features framed by immaculate curls, her expression both intrigued and skeptical. Behind her, Orion followed, his silver-gray eyes locking onto Harrison with a flicker of something unreadable. He was dressed impeccably, his dark robes tailored to perfection, but it was the subtle tension in his shoulders that caught Harrison’s attention.
Sirius and Regulus entered together, the brothers a study in contrast. Sirius, dressed in a sharp black suit with a sly grin tugging at his lips, carried himself with an air of defiance. Regulus, by contrast, wore formal robes of deep green, his expression calm but watchful.
The Lestranges followed close behind—Rodolphus and Rabastan with their father, Corvus, their sharp features betraying nothing as they entered the room. Narcissa Malfoy, radiant and poised, was accompanied by Lucius, whose silver-blonde hair and cold demeanor made him impossible to ignore. Bellatrix arrived last, her dark eyes gleaming with barely-contained amusement as she surveyed the grandeur of the manor.
Harrison greeted each guest with a steady handshake or a polite nod, his confidence unwavering as he led them through the grand hallway toward the dining room.
“Please, follow me,” Harrison said, his voice calm but commanding. “Dinner is served, and your seats have been arranged.”
The dining room was a vision of elegance. The long mahogany table, polished to a mirror-like shine, was adorned with a centerpiece of enchanted lilies that shifted between silver and green. Crystal goblets caught the light of the flickering candles, and the place settings gleamed with intricate gold detailing.
As the guests entered, their eyes were immediately drawn to the seating arrangement. Harrison had carefully assigned each seat, ensuring the most strategic placement.
“Your places are marked,” Harrison said smoothly, gesturing to the table. “Please find your name and make yourselves comfortable.”
Arcturus took his place at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping the room as though taking silent inventory of everyone present. Walburga sat to his left, her sharp eyes narrowing as she inspected the arrangement.
“Lord Black,” Harrison said, his voice cutting through the quiet murmur of the room. “You, Sirius, and Regulus will sit by me.”
Orion’s gaze flickered toward Harrison, something unreadable flashing in his silver-gray eyes. He nodded once and moved to his seat, his sons following. Sirius slid into his chair with a smirk, leaning back slightly as though to test the atmosphere, while Regulus sat with perfect posture, his expression as impassive as ever.
Rodolphus and Rabastan were seated across from Orion and his sons, their dark eyes glinting with curiosity. Lucius and Narcissa sat further down, while Bellatrix chose a seat beside Arcturus, her demeanor as bold as ever.
As everyone settled into their places, the air crackled with unspoken tension. Harrison, standing at the head of the table opposite Arcturus, allowed a small smile to cross his lips.
“Welcome,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “To Peverell Manor.”
The words carried weight, a subtle reminder of the power and legacy that the Peverell name represented. The guests exchanged glances, each processing the significance of the moment in their own way.
“I trust you will find the evening both enjoyable and enlightening,” Harrison continued, his gaze sweeping the room. “The Peverell name has long been synonymous with strength and legacy. Tonight, I intend to show you why.”
As the first course was served—a delicate soup infused with enchanted spices—the room began to hum with quiet conversation. Yet, Harrison remained keenly aware of every glance, every whisper. He knew the Blacks, the Lestranges, and the Malfoys were not just here to dine—they were here to judge, to evaluate, to measure him against their exacting standards.
But Harrison Peverell was afraid of no one.
As the night progressed, the subtle tension in the room shifted. Conversations grew livelier, the guests exchanging sharp wit and guarded compliments. Harrison navigated the interactions with ease, his confidence unshaken as he engaged with each guest.
And through it all, he could feel Orion’s gaze lingering on him, a silent acknowledgment of the game they were both playing.
By the time the main course arrived—a roasted pheasant with butter-poached vegetables—the room had begun to warm. Yet Harrison knew the true test was still to come. Tonight was not just a dinner—it was a statement, a challenge, and a promise all wrapped into one.
As he raised his glass, emerald-green eyes meeting the room’s collective gaze, Harrison spoke with quiet determination.
“To legacy,” he said, his voice steady. “And to the future.”
The room echoed his words, though the meaning behind their responses varied. Harrison’s lips curled into a faint smile. The Peverell legacy was far from forgotten. Tonight, it would shine brighter than ever.
The atmosphere in the dining room grew warmer as the courses progressed, but Harrison’s mind was far from the idle chatter and occasional bursts of laughter. He leaned back in his chair, his emerald-green eyes scanning the room with sharp precision. The Black family was a fascinating study of dynamics—power plays hidden beneath polite smiles, alliances buried under layers of tradition.
Yet it was Orion who held Harrison’s attention most of all. The man’s composure was near impenetrable, but Harrison had spent years learning to read the subtle nuances of those around him. The slight clench of Orion’s jaw when their eyes met, the flicker of interest in his otherwise cool gaze—these small tells revealed far more than Orion intended.
A plan began to form in Harrison’s mind, the pieces clicking into place like a well-crafted puzzle. The Black family was a bastion of influence in the wizarding world, but even the strongest walls could be breached with the right strategy. His family’s history was proof of that. The Peverells had always been more than just powerful; they were cunning, weaving their legacy through alliances and unions that ensured their influence would never fade.
Marrying Orion, Harrison mused, would be the perfect start.
He masked his thoughts behind a calm and collected expression, his lips curving into a faint smile as he turned his attention to Arcturus Black.
“So, Lord Black,” Harrison began, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity. “Tell me about your family. The Blacks are renowned for their legacy and influence, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
The room quieted slightly, the other guests turning their attention to Arcturus. The patriarch of the Black family set down his goblet of wine, his sharp gray eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Harrison.
“You flatter us, Lord Peverell,” Arcturus said smoothly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “But I suspect you already know much about the Black family. We have been one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight for centuries, our bloodline untainted and our name synonymous with power. Our influence reaches far beyond these walls.”
Harrison inclined his head, his expression respectful yet thoughtful. “Of course. But I’m more interested in the personal history. Every family has a story, a foundation upon which their legacy is built. I’d like to understand what drives the Blacks, what makes your family unique.”
Arcturus’s lips twitched, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “An interesting question. The Blacks have always valued purity of blood and strength of character. Our ancestors believed in preserving what made us exceptional, and that belief has carried through the generations.”
Harrison nodded slowly, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his goblet. “A commendable philosophy,” he said, his voice steady. “But surely there is more. Every family has its challenges, its triumphs. What has shaped the Black family into what it is today?”
Arcturus’s gaze flickered, a momentary hesitation before he spoke. “Challenges, yes. We have faced our share of them, as any great family has. But the Blacks endure because we adapt. Strength and unity are the cornerstones of our legacy.”
Harrison leaned forward slightly, his emerald eyes gleaming with interest. “Unity,” he echoed. “That’s a rare quality, even among the most powerful families. How do you maintain it?”
Orion, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, spoke up for the first time. His voice was calm but carried a hint of steel. “Through loyalty and understanding our roles within the family. We may have our differences, but at the end of the day, we stand together.”
Harrison turned his gaze to Orion, his smile deepening. “An admirable approach, Lord Black. Loyalty is a powerful force, one that many underestimate.”
Orion inclined his head slightly, his expression guarded but not unfriendly.
Across the table, Sirius let out a quiet snort, earning a sharp look from Walburga. “Loyalty,” Sirius muttered under his breath, though loud enough for those nearby to hear. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Sirius,” Walburga hissed, her tone warning.
Harrison chuckled softly, defusing the tension. “Every family has its complexities, its moments of disagreement. But I imagine that’s what makes the Black family so fascinating. You’re not just a family—you’re a dynasty.”
Bellatrix, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, leaned forward, her dark eyes gleaming. “And what of the Peverells, Lord Peverell? You speak so highly of legacies and dynasties, but what about your own? What drives you?”
Harrison met her gaze without hesitation, his smile unwavering. “The Peverells have always been guided by one principle: the pursuit of excellence. Our legacy is built on strength, intellect, and the ability to adapt to any challenge. We have faced obscurity and risen from it, proving that true power is not in clinging to the past but in shaping the future.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over the gathered guests. Even Bellatrix, ever bold and sharp-tongued, seemed momentarily taken aback.
Arcturus broke the silence with a low chuckle, his expression one of approval. “Spoken like a true heir of Peverell,” he said. “Your family would be proud.”
Harrison inclined his head. “Thank you, Lord Black. But I’m not here to bask in the past. My goal is to build alliances, to strengthen bonds that will shape the wizarding world for generations to come.”
His gaze flicked to Orion, lingering for a fraction of a second before returning to Arcturus. The subtle gesture did not go unnoticed, though no one remarked on it.
As the conversation continued, Harrison’s mind continued to spin its web of plans. The Blacks were powerful, yes, but they were also fractured in ways they refused to admit. Walburga’s sharp tongue and Sirius’s defiance, Bellatrix’s barely restrained chaos, and even Orion’s carefully concealed struggles—these were cracks in the armor, opportunities to exploit.
But he knew better than to act hastily. The game of power required patience, precision, and charm—all of which he possessed in abundance.
By the time dessert was served, a decadent chocolate torte with hints of enchanted spices, Harrison had succeeded in turning the conversation to lighter topics. Yet the undercurrent of tension and intrigue remained, a silent acknowledgment of the battle for dominance that had begun the moment they stepped into Peverell Manor.
As the evening wound down, Harrison rose from his seat, his smile warm but calculated. “Thank you all for joining me tonight,” he said, his voice carrying across the room. “It has been an honor to host such a distinguished family. I look forward to what the future holds for us all.”
The guests offered polite nods and murmurs of agreement, though the glances exchanged between them spoke volumes. As they began to file out of the dining room, Harrison caught Orion’s gaze once more.
“Goodnight, Lord Black,” Harrison said softly, his voice carrying a note of something deeper—a promise, a challenge, perhaps even an invitation.
Orion nodded, his expression unreadable. But as he turned to leave, Harrison allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The game was just beginning, and he was already several moves ahead.