Chapter 8
The sun poured through the tall windows of Peverell Manor’s study, casting golden rays across the polished mahogany desk where Harrison sat. His emerald-green eyes were sharp with determination as he reviewed the plan he had been quietly crafting since receiving word of Sirius and Regulus’s reactions to his letters. Convincing Sirius to trust him would take time and effort, but Regulus was a different matter entirely. The younger Black son was calculated, ambitious, and intelligent—qualities Harrison respected deeply.
If Harrison was going to marry Orion Black, he needed more than just Orion’s agreement. He needed to bring Regulus into the fold, to show him that being part of the Peverell legacy wasn’t a threat but an opportunity. And Harrison had just the idea.
“Binks,” he called, his voice calm but commanding.
With a soft pop, the loyal house-elf appeared, bowing deeply. “Master Harrison, sir! What does you need?”
Harrison leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. “Binks, I have a task for you. I want you to go to Diagon Alley and purchase the finest potions kit available—the very best on the market. No expense is to be spared.”
Binks’s large ears perked up as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Master Harrison! Binks will get the best potions kit! Anything else, sir?”
“Yes,” Harrison said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a sealed parchment, its edges marked with the Peverell crest. “Take this deed as well. It’s for the potions shop the Peverell family owns on Knockturn Alley. I want you to deliver it to Regulus Black, along with the potions kit. Tell him it’s a gift—an asset for him to begin his own venture as the future son of the Peverell family line.”
Binks’s eyes widened, his expression a mixture of awe and pride. “Master Harrison is giving Master Regulus a shop? That is most generous, sir!”
Harrison inclined his head. “Regulus has a gift for potions, Binks. It’s only right that he has the resources to develop his talents. I want you to wear the Peverell crest proudly when you deliver these items. Make it clear that this gift comes from the Peverell family.”
Binks bowed so low his nose nearly touched the floor. “Yes, Master Harrison! Binks will do exactly as you say!”
The house-elf straightened, clutching the parchment in his small hands. With another deep bow, he disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Harrison alone in the quiet study.
Harrison leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the window. He could already picture Regulus’s reaction—the cautious skepticism that would eventually give way to curiosity, and perhaps even gratitude. This was more than a simple gift; it was an investment, a way to show Regulus that Harrison wasn’t just another ambitious outsider.
At Diagon Alley
Binks appeared in the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, the Peverell crest embroidered proudly on his tunic. The morning crowds were already thick, witches and wizards milling about with bags of spell supplies and enchanted goods. The house-elf moved with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the storefronts until he found the one he was looking for: Alchemy & Artifice, the most prestigious potions shop in the alley.
The shopkeeper, a tall man with graying hair and a meticulous demeanor, looked up as Binks entered. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the crest.
“Welcome,” the man said, his tone shifting to one of deference. “How may I assist the House of Peverell today?”
Binks puffed out his chest proudly. “Master Harrison Peverell sends Binks to purchase the best potions kit you have. The very best!”
The shopkeeper nodded, immediately moving to the back of the store. He returned moments later with a gleaming black case, its edges trimmed in silver. The lid was embossed with runes that shimmered faintly under the light.
“This is our finest kit,” the shopkeeper said, placing it on the counter. “It contains rare ingredients, high-quality cauldrons, and custom tools crafted by the best artisans in the wizarding world.”
Binks inspected the kit carefully before nodding. “This will do! Master Harrison will be pleased!”
After completing the purchase, Binks tucked the kit under one arm and Apparated to Knockturn Alley. The dark, shadowy street was quieter than Diagon Alley, its shops catering to a more specialized clientele. Binks made his way to a modest but well-kept storefront with a small brass plaque that read: Peverell’s Apothecary.
The shop had been closed for years, its ownership remaining within the Peverell family despite its inactivity. Now, with the deed in hand, it was about to take on a new life.
At Black Manor
Regulus was in the family library, his dark head bent over a tome on advanced potion theory, when a soft pop drew his attention. He looked up to see Binks standing before him, the house-elf holding a polished black case in one hand and a rolled parchment in the other.
“Master Regulus,” Binks said, bowing deeply. “Master Harrison Peverell sends these gifts for you.”
Regulus frowned slightly, setting his book aside as he rose to his feet. “Gifts?”
Binks stepped forward, placing the potions kit and parchment on the table. “Yes, sir! Master Harrison says this is for you to start your own potions shop. He says it is an asset, for you as the future son of the Peverell family line.”
Regulus’s brow furrowed as he picked up the parchment, unrolling it carefully. His dark eyes scanned the deed, his expression unreadable. The potions kit beside it gleamed under the light, its quality unmistakable.
“What game is he playing?” Regulus murmured, though there was no anger in his voice—only curiosity.
“Master Harrison says this is not a game, sir,” Binks replied earnestly. “He says it is an opportunity. A way to show you what the Peverell name can offer.”
Regulus’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered the house-elf’s words. He glanced back at the potions kit, his fingers brushing against the silver-embossed lid. It was an incredible gesture, one that spoke to Harrison’s understanding of Regulus’s passions and ambitions.
“Tell Harrison,” Regulus said slowly, “that I’ll consider his intentions carefully. And... thank you for delivering this, Binks.”
The house-elf beamed, bowing deeply once more. “Yes, Master Regulus! Binks will tell Master Harrison!”
With another soft pop, Binks disappeared, leaving Regulus alone with the gifts. He sat back down, his gaze lingering on the parchment and potions kit.
For the first time, Regulus found himself genuinely intrigued by Harrison Peverell—not as an outsider, but as a man who might truly understand the importance of legacy.
Regulus held the deed to Peverell’s Apothecary in one hand, the polished potions kit resting on the table beside him. His mind buzzed with thoughts of Harrison Peverell’s unexpected generosity. The gesture wasn’t just calculated—it was personal. Harrison had chosen to invest in Regulus’s greatest strength, his passion for potion-making. For someone who prided himself on being careful and pragmatic, Regulus found himself both impressed and unsettled by Harrison’s foresight.
Deciding he couldn’t keep this to himself, Regulus stood and made his way toward the grand drawing room, where he knew his father and grandfather often gathered during the morning hours. His footsteps echoed softly in the corridors of Black Manor, the weight of the parchment in his hand feeling heavier with each step.
When he reached the drawing room, the sight of Orion and Arcturus greeted him. Orion stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back, while Arcturus sat in his high-backed chair by the fire, a cup of tea resting on the small table beside him. They both turned as Regulus entered, his composed demeanor belying the flurry of thoughts in his mind.
“Regulus,” Arcturus said, setting his tea aside. “To what do we owe this unexpected visit?”
Regulus stepped forward, holding up the deed. “I received this from Harrison Peverell. Along with a potions kit—the finest I’ve ever seen.”
Orion’s brow furrowed, and he moved closer, taking the parchment from Regulus’s hand. His sharp eyes scanned the document, his expression unreadable. “This is a deed,” he said slowly, “to a potions shop in Knockturn Alley. A Peverell property.”
“Yes,” Regulus confirmed, his tone measured. “Harrison sent it to me as a gift. He called it an asset for my future and referred to me as the future son of the Peverell family line.”
Arcturus raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a faint smirk. “It seems young Harrison is wasting no time in showing us what he’s capable of.”
Regulus nodded. “He’s bold, I’ll give him that. But this isn’t just about boldness. He’s thought this through. He knows my interest in potions, my ambition to excel in the field. This... this is a calculated move.”
Orion set the parchment down, his expression thoughtful. “It’s more than that,” he said quietly. “It’s an olive branch. He’s not only investing in you, Regulus—he’s showing you that he values you as part of this family, as part of the legacy he wants to build.”
Arcturus chuckled softly. “He’s a clever one, that’s for certain. And what do you think, Regulus? Do you see this for what it is?”
Regulus hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I do. It’s a move to win my favor, to show that he’s serious about his intentions. And, truthfully, it’s working. He understands what drives me, what I care about. That’s... rare.”
Orion exchanged a glance with Arcturus, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. “Harrison Peverell is not a man who does things by halves,” Orion said finally. “If he’s willing to go to these lengths for you, it shows the depth of his commitment to this union.”
Regulus picked up the potions kit, his fingers brushing over the silver-embossed lid. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. But I still need time to consider what this means for us—for the family.”
“Take your time,” Arcturus said, his tone calm. “But remember, Harrison Peverell is a man worth watching. He doesn’t offer gifts without purpose.”
A Gift for Sirius
Back at Peverell Manor, Harrison stood in the library, his mind already working on his next move. Winning over Regulus was one thing, but Sirius presented a far greater challenge. Harrison knew that Sirius valued freedom above all else, and any gesture toward him would have to align with that principle.
Calling for Binks once more, Harrison waited as the house-elf appeared with a soft pop.
“Master Harrison, sir!” Binks said, bowing deeply. “How can Binks serve?”
Harrison crossed the room, handing the elf a small pouch of gold Galleons and a set of keys. “Binks, I need you to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. Purchase the fastest broomstick they have—money is no object. Make sure it’s the absolute best.”
Binks’s eyes widened with excitement. “Yes, Master Harrison! Binks will get the best broomstick!”
“And that’s not all,” Harrison continued, his tone firm. “Take these keys as well. They’re for a property in Hogsmeade—an empty building near the main street. Deliver the broomstick and the keys to Sirius Black. Tell him that the broom is a token of goodwill and that the building is his to use as he wishes. He can start his own shop, create a space of his own—whatever he desires.”
Binks blinked up at him, his ears twitching. “Master Harrison is giving Master Sirius a shop too? That is most generous!”
Harrison smiled faintly. “Sirius needs to see that I’m not here to control him. He values his independence, so I’m giving him something that represents freedom—a chance to forge his own path. Wear the Peverell crest proudly, and make sure Sirius understands that this is a gift, not a bribe.”
Binks bowed low, clutching the keys and pouch tightly. “Binks will make it perfect, Master Harrison! Sirius Black will see the Peverell name in all its glory!”
With another pop, the house-elf disappeared, leaving Harrison alone once more.
At Black Manor
Sirius was in the gardens behind Black Manor, lounging on a stone bench and staring up at the sky when Binks appeared before him, holding a gleaming broomstick in one hand and a set of keys in the other.
“Master Sirius Black,” Binks said, bowing deeply. “Master Harrison Peverell sends these gifts for you!”
Sirius sat up, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the house-elf. “What’s this about?”
Binks stepped forward, holding out the broomstick. “Master Harrison says this is for you—the fastest broomstick on the market! And these keys,” he added, holding them up, “are for a building in Hogsmeade. Master Harrison says it is yours to use as you wish!”
Sirius took the broomstick, inspecting it with a mixture of skepticism and awe. It was a Firebolt prototype, sleek and gleaming, its craftsmanship impeccable. The keys jingled faintly as Binks placed them in his other hand.
“And why is he giving me all this?” Sirius asked, his tone wary.
“Master Harrison says it is a gift,” Binks replied earnestly. “A way to show you he values your freedom and independence. He says the shop is yours to create something of your own!”
Sirius stared at the house-elf for a moment, then back at the broomstick and keys. For once, he was at a loss for words.
“Tell him... thanks, I guess,” Sirius said finally, his tone begrudging but not unkind.
Binks beamed, bowing deeply before disappearing with a pop.
As Sirius sat back on the bench, the broomstick resting across his lap, he couldn’t help but feel a grudging sense of respect for Harrison. The man clearly knew how to play the game—and for the first time, Sirius wondered if maybe, just maybe, Harrison wasn’t the enemy he’d assumed him to be.