Chapter One
3 August 1995, Grimmauld Place
Hermione was anxious to see Aria again, to know she was okay after the dementor attack. The moment Aria entered behind Kingsley, Hermione pulled her into a hug. “You okay?”
Aria shook her head. Hermione could see dark circles under her eyes, as well as a generally unkempt appearance – all the signs pointing to grief.
Sirius came up soon afterwards, pulling Aria into a hug. “I missed you, Prongslette.”
Aria flinched. “Siri, can you find another nickname, please?” Her voice was rough from disuse.
Sirius blanched, hugging her tighter as Molly came upstairs.
“Aria, dear, you’re here. The only open bedroom is on the top floor,” Molly said kindly. The loss of Harry was still raw for everyone. “It’s decorated in Slytherin colours, but we haven’t been able to change it.”
“I think that’s a mercy. I can’t even see a Gryffindor scarf without crying, so I don’t know how I’ll fare come September,” Aria confessed quietly.
Sirius led Aria to Regulus’ old bedroom. “This was my younger brother, Regulus’ bedroom. Mine’s right next door.”
“Thanks, Siri.” Aria hugged him, before lying down on the bed and staring at the ceiling until she fell asleep.
In the meeting Dumbledore tried to convince them Aria was fine, and the only possible saviour now, until Kingsley – of all people – snapped. “Albus, she wasn’t even resisting the dementor. It was her cousin that forcibly picked her up and carried her back to the house. You’re suggesting we use a fifteen-year-old girl to fight a war, a girl that has just lost her brother. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but this is all sorts of wrong.”
“Kingsley, my boy, surely…” Dumbledore tried to placate him.
“If you’re going to go off on some dunderheaded rubbish like Aria has to have a connection to Voldemort because Harry clearly didn’t as he’s dead and she’s a Parselmouth, Albus, I will be the first to tell you that you’re being obtuse,” Severus’ dry tone may very well have been a flame heating a knife. “Lily was a Parselmouth, which anyone that spent more than a few scattered days in her company will be able to tell you.”
Dumbledore, being irritated by that, called the meeting to a close before all but storming off, unwilling to acknowledge that he might be wrong, and most of the teens filtered in, and Fletcher, Diggle, Doge, and Vance left.
Sirius almost immediately took over. “Everyone, I need ideas for nicknames for Aria that has precisely nothing to do with James’ animagus form. Fast.”
Suggestions were idly given and noted, mostly flower-based, until Severus – of all people – spoke up. “Pyrite.”
“What?” Sirius exclaimed in surprise as everyone turned to look at Severus.
“I’m certain you heard me, Black, but I shall repeat myself,” Severus said with a long-suffering sigh. “Pyrite.”
Hermione let out a weak laugh. “Pyrite, also known as Fool’s Gold… Honestly, I think it’s perfect.”
“Miss Granger, for your information, it’s also a reference to the time Miss Potter accidentally invented a new variant of a basic healing draught by misreading instructions in your second year – while you were petrified – that was the colour of pyrite,” Severus imparted the information to the remaining Order members.
“Fleamont and Charlus were brilliant at Potions – as was Lily – but James was rubbish at them,” Alastor offered up information on past Potters, which was odd for the retired Auror. “Looks like the talent skipped a generation of Potters.”
“Fleamont – between being an Auror – invented Sleekeazy’s. Charlus improved the Dragon Pox vaccine. Henry – their father – created a healing potion or three,” Remus said fondly. “James? James was utter rubbish at Potions, and a source of annoyance for Slughorn even at NEWT level. Lily was working on a modified Draught of Living Death back in ’81. Harry is tragic at Potions, from what I know. But Aria accidentally inventing a new variant of a basic healing draught at thirteen? That’s the Potter luck talking.”
Sirius laughed a little in fond remembrance, before banishing the suggestion sheet to the top drawer of his desk. “Okay, Pyrite it is. Thanks, Snape.”
“Good evening, all.” With a nod, Severus swept out.
5 August 1995, Grimmauld Place
Sirius was heading down to the kitchen when he heard music playing in one of the sitting rooms – the only one without any portraits. Curiosity overtook him, and he quietly opened the door and stuck his head through the gap. Aria was lying on the carpet, her eyes closed and tears streaming down her face, softly singing along.
“My eyes saw the words
With a prayer and a curse
Your pain had to sleep
With a sword that it keeps”
He quietly closed the door, heading to the kitchen, humming the bit he’d heard on repeat, until Hermione interrupted. “Sirius, what are you humming?”
Sirius brought the lyrics back to mind, before repeating them to Hermione. He was surprised when it brought tears to her eyes. “What?”
“Aria and Harry, they could listen to that song on repeat for Merlin knows how long.” Hermione didn’t stop the tears, the grief crashing back over her in waves. “They played it so often, most of the Gryffindors know the song by heart.” A sob bubbled from her throat. “It’s called Sad Angel.”
Lunch was a sombre affair, and Sirius was only too happy to escape back to his room. He slowed as he walked past the sitting room Aria was in, hearing that the music had changed, but Aria was still singing along.
“In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a streetlamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence”
Sirius could recognise that one. The Sound of Silence. He understood why Aria wasn’t willing to talk to anyone since she arrived. Hell, he didn’t speak until 1982 rolled around, grieving his brother and sister in all but blood. Hope you’re okay, pup.
Aria was surprisingly at dinner – a contrast to the last two days, when she didn’t show up to mealtimes at all – although she was quiet. It was just her, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, and the Weasleys there – plus Dora and Kingsley. As dinner was winding down, Aria spoke to them for the first time since her arrival. “The Potters were descended from the Peverells, right?”
Remus and Sirius traded looks, before Sirius nodded. “Yeah, they were. Why do you ask?”
“I’m the last Potter, but not the last Peverell,” Aria was speaking quietly. “The Gaunts are facing the same dilemma, with just one person left: Athanasius Maclin Gaunt.”
“The guy Dumbledore is saying is You-Know-Who?” Ron said incredulously.
“Honestly, I don’t give a damn if Athanasius is Voldemort or not, unless the murders and raids typical of the First War happen again,” Aria said, her tone devoid of emotion. “Dumbledore keeps going on and on about a prophecy, but if he isn’t sharing information with us, then I am taking everything he says with an entire bag of salt.”
Nobody was really too shocked by Aria’s words, which made her raise an eyebrow.
“Honestly, Aria, I’m pretty sure most of us are just done with Dumbledore by now,” Ginny said seriously. “I mean, we were in the Hospital Wing when Harry died, and we saw how world-weary he acted. We were at the funeral, and I can tell it was only your glares that kept him at bay. You didn’t notice, but he went for his wand when you started transfiguring the tombstone, as if he wanted to reverse it.”
None of them commented on Ginny’s bluntness, nodding along, even the Aurors, until Kingsley picked up the conversation. “And he wants to use either Aria or Neville as figureheads for the war.”
Aria’s glass abruptly shattered. “WHAT?”
“Aria, mate, we don’t speak Parseltongue,” Ron said placatingly. “English, please?”
Aria sat back. “Sorry, everyone, but Dumbledore wants to do WHAT?”
“He wants to use either you or Neville as figureheads for another war,” Kingsley said with a sigh. “And always mutters something vague about a prophecy when we ask why.” He shook his head. “I have no problem with being a bit of a vigilante, but when someone suggests bringing children into a war, I’m automatically out.”
Everyone nodded along, even the Marauders, until Remus spoke. “Dumbledore recruited us young, while we were still in Hogwarts, even. It took several years of reflection to realise just how – pardon my language, Molly – fucked up that was, essentially using children to fight a war. That was one thing even Voldemort didn’t do. Did he recruit teenagers? Yes, but usually in their final two years. Did he allow them in battle? No. I never saw anyone younger than 19 in any of the skirmishes with Death Eaters in the first war, and I was usually, what, 15, 16?”
Sirius nodded along to that. “I’d honestly defect, but I’m a wanted fugitive.”
“Back to my original point, folks.” Aria chuckled weakly. “If I wanted to absorb the Gaunt and Potter cadet branches back into the Peverell family, I not only would have to warn Athanasius, but it would actually reactivate the Slytherin and Stinchcombe seats on the Wizengamot, since the Slytherin seat’s votes merged with the Gaunt’s, and Stinchcombe’s with Potter.”
“What’s so bad about that?” Ginny asked with a raised brow.
“The Founders’ seats, the Stinchcombe seat, and the Peverell seat have one thing in common: they’re Most Ancient and Most Noble seats, with the Founders’ and Stinchcombe falling under the Revered subcategory, and Peverell falling under Royal,” Aria leant back in her seat. “Yes, I’m saying that the Peverell seat is on the same tier as the Emrys and Le Fay seats. The curse of being some of the oldest or most influential seats…”
“Can someone explain the Wizengamot tiers and courtrooms to me?” Hermione looked around, stumped for the first time in her life.
“Hermione Granger-”
“-the Brightest Witch of her age-”
“-doesn’t know something?”
“Why, my friends-”
“-I fear-”
“-we’ve fallen into-”
“-an alternate universe!” Fred and George chorused in faux shock.
This got a genuine laugh out of Aria. “Terrors, cut it out.” She turned to Hermione. “The courtrooms – which usually double as Wizengamot meeting rooms – are all octagonal, with the same basic layout. The north wall is strictly Ministry employees, so the Minister, Junior and Senior Undersecretaries, scribes, Department Heads, any employees that would be necessary during trials, that sort of thing, plus the Chief Warlock. Northeast is the doors to the holding cells and witness box – for high-profile cases or witnesses. East is the press seating. Southeast is the public seating and general witness box. South is the door to the hallway. Southwest is the Light faction seating. West is the Neutral faction seating. Northwest is the Dark faction seating.
“The Ministerial, press and public seating don’t generally have rules about the tiers, or who can sit where – the Ministry employees with Wizengamot seats sit among the Peerage – but that isn’t the case with the Peerage’s seating. The lowest tier is for Noble houses, those that are at least 100 years old. The next tier is the Ancient houses, 225 years, minimum. Next up is Ancient and Noble, 375 years. Most Ancient and Noble, like Black and Potter, are 550 years old, hard minimum. The two highest tiers, for the Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses, is split between Revered – the lower tier – and Royal – the upper tier. Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses are 750 years old or more.”
“How many houses in each tier? And who are they?” Hermione’s curiosity was a warm comfort to Aria’s grief-battered soul.
Sirius was the one to answer. “There are 14 Noble Houses, 17 Ancient Houses, 22 Ancient and Noble Houses, 27 Most Ancient and Noble Houses, 7 Revered Houses, and 3 Royal Houses. As for who…” He summoned a folder. “Let’s see… Noble Houses are Bell, Bletchley, Callaway, Chang, Dumbledore, Edgecombe, Farley, Grimshaw, Johnson, Marwood, Starling, Summers, Swann, and Weir. Ancient Houses are Benbow, Blakeley, Burnett. Carstens, Crouch, Dawlish, Dearborn, Finch, Jugson, Lupin, Marsh, Merrythought, Moody, Seren, Silverman, Summerborn, and Summerisle.
“Ancient and Noble Houses are Brown, Carrow, Diggle, Doge, Figg, Gamp, Greylock, Higgs, Marchbanks, Mulciber, Patil, Pucey, Rackharrow, Rivers, Rookwood, Rowle, Smith, Travers, Vance, Waterford, Winters, and Zabini. Most Ancient and Noble Houses are Black, Blalock, Bones, Burke, Fawley, Flint, Gaunt, Greengrass, Lestrange, Longbottom, Macmillan, MacNair, Malfoy, McGonagall, Montague, Nott, Ogden, Parkinson, Potter, Prewett, Prince, Rosier, Selwyn, Shacklebolt, Warrington, Weasley, and Whitlock. Revered Houses are Blackwood, Faye, the Founders’ Houses, and Stinchcombe. Royal Houses are Emrys, Le Fay, and Peverell.”
“What’s the faction divide and vote count per faction currently?” Bill asked from his seat.
"Light faction… 27 seats, 67 votes.” Sirius scanned the folder. “Brown, Callaway, Carstens, Dearborn, Diggle, Doge, Dumbledore, Edgecombe, Faye, Figg, Finch, Johnson, Longbottom, Marsh, McGonagall, Patil, Potter, Rivers, Seren, Silverman, Summerborn, Summerisle, Summers, Swann, Vance, Waterford, and Weasley.
“Neutral faction… 42 seats, 133 Votes. Bell, Benbow, Blakeley, Blalock, Bletchley, Bones, Burnett, Chang, Crouch, Emrys, Farley, Fawley, Gamp, Greengrass, Greylock, Grimshaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Le Fay, Lupin, Macmillan, Marchbanks, Marwood, Merrythought, Montague, Moody, Ogden, Parkinson, Peverell, Prewett, Prince, Pucey, Rackharrow, Ravenclaw, Rookwood, Shacklebolt, Slytherin, Smith, Stinchcombe, Weir, Whitlock, and Zabini.
“Dark faction… 21 seats, 72 votes. Black, Blackwood, Burke, Carrow, Dawlish, Flint, Gaunt, Higgs, Jugson, Lestrange, MacNair, Malfoy, Mulciber, Nott, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Starling, Travers, Warrington, and Winters,” Sirius finished rattling off the current Wizengamot.
“Hmm, why does the Dark faction have less seats but more votes?” Hermione found it a bit confusing.
“The older the house, the more votes it has,” Aria answered quietly. “One for Noble, two for Ancient, three for Ancient and Noble, four for Most Ancient and Noble, and five for Most Ancient and Most Noble. There is one Noble house, two Ancient houses, six Ancient and Noble houses, eleven Most Ancient and Noble houses, and one Revered house in the Dark faction, giving them one, four, eighteen, forty-four, and five votes, respectively. Whereas the Light faction’s is six, eight, eight, four, and one seats – from lowest to highest rank – and thus giving them six, sixteen, twenty-four, sixteen, and five votes, respectively. Dumbledore has been Chief Warlock because of his status as the Defeater of Grindelwald for the past five decades, despite his faction having the least votes, so the second he loses it, it will go to Tiberius Ogden, because the Neutral party is in the voting majority by 61 votes. The Wizengamot currently has 272 votes, but if the Potter and Gaunt seats are reabsorbed into the Peverell seat, it will drop to 264.
“How do you know so much?” Sirius looked at Aria incredulously
“Locked myself in the library for all of yesterday to avoid people,” Aria mumbled as she dropped her head onto the table.
“Another question. How did you even get into the library? The wards barely let me in,” Sirius grumbled good-naturedly.
Aria shrugged. “Dunno, just did.”
“Lucky bastard,” Remus grumbled.
“I’ll have you know my parents were married,” Aria retorted, still not looking up.
The assembled group laughed, and the pain in their chests dimmed a little, at least for a while.