Courting Destiny

Sunlight infiltrated from the cracks in the bars that held the windows in privet drive's second-floor room. The cold bars are like a picture of how cold the homeowner's heart is. I don't know what was in the minds of the people out there when they saw the window of his room. Perhaps they thought it was natural to lock up the Mad Nephew. These rumors are not new in the Privet Drive region. Especially with the weirdness that always happens around Harry. Some say that their parents are the ones who inherited the crazy disease, some say it was the result of hitting their heads as a baby. 'Oh, poor the Dursleys have to deal with that strange kid. Watch out, as he passes by! hide your children and also your wallet from him!' Such is the way of mind of the people in this suburb, it is certainly not surprising why the Dursleys can be popular among them.

In the room full of the broken stuff, there lay Harry Potter on his shiny lacquered wooden floor. It's not that because he admires the floor, no matter how beautiful it is. He just didn't have the energy to get up after the barrage of vision attacks. His eyes looked blankly at the cat door that hadn't been used for a long time and the many slot locks. His lips were dry, cracked and bleeding. His throat seemed to have sand every time he swallowed. But the glass has long been filled with cobwebs. His stomach couldn't feel hungry anymore, just stiff like there were hundreds of pebbles rubbing against each other every time he moved. how do you think dursleys treat a Wizard, let alone Seer?

Harry's back felt burned by the iron sabentan of his uncle's belt. One thing is not the first time. Whatever Harry did, good or bad was always reviled. Either because of making a mistake or because of achievement. At first he thought it was normal, that he was indeed insignificant, burdensome and abnormal. As his uncle and aunt often repeated. How come? with his vision of the person with his hood and green light, a flying motorcycle, or a castle with a black horse with wings and a ship coming out to the surface of the water. Of course they thought it was crazy. Harry thinks so too.

But no matter how hard Dursley tried to stop his 'abnormal', by locking him or beating him up, all of that wouldn't stop. His vision did not know the situation. Even if it could kill Harry. But even though he considered it a fantasy, it was that vision, the beauty of the castle and the hope of standing there that made him survive. Keeping it from slipping, because it is very easy at death feels more beautiful than life. At times like this, Harry would close his eyes and throw himself on the mysterious handkerchief, hiding in his embrace, so that he could forget the wound on his back or be hungry and thirsty. The now familiar hand, which has always been protective of guarding it and always keeping it safe. The hand that now has a name. Marcus.

All those shadows became real when he received the Hogwarts letter and Hagrid with his giant hand forcibly removed the hinges of their hiding doors in the cottage in the middle of the sea. How happy Harry was, as in euphoria, that things were not imagination. But that fact, now feels far away, when viewed from behind bars and abandoned broken ornaments and spider-nested glass. But he tried hard to hold on to the future. Oh! What a beautiful future. Until even though his soul was so thin and made him unsure of surviving, the piece of the future was like a thread that tied him to the world. The future seemed so promising, Harry didn't want to give up. But determination alone is not enough to save his life now.

There were noises of slots being pulled, and then the door was opened roughly by his uncle whose face was red with wrath. "BOY!" he exclaimed loudly. "Never act weird! There are important guests who will have dinner here. If there is something unnatural here, I will punish you!" Got it?!" the man didn't wait for Harry's answer, closed the door back and put the slot back in place. Harry closed his eyes with a smile. Now the opportunity.

The night is approaching. The sound of the car door and the conversation came from below. Before long a loud POP sound sounded, followed by a House elf who appeared suddenly in his pillowcase shirt.

"Harry Potter, sir—" he choked wide-eyed. Shocked by what he saw.

"Are you keeping the letter from my friends, Dobby?" she whispered, still closing her eyes.

A big hand with long fingers touched his cheek, "Harry Potter knows dobby's name... Harry Potter is injured..." she whispered. "Did Harry Potter get any danger here? But this is Harry Potter's house!" he looked so anxious.

"If I promise not to go to Hogwarts, do you want to help me?"

The big watery-looking eyes looked at fear, "What can Dobby help you with? Dobby is just a naughty elf! Harry Potter was already injured, Dobby was late!" he started beating himself, but Harry didn't have the energy to stop him. The loud banging sound at the door was followed by the threat, "BOY! If you can't stand still, I will lock you in the closet!"

Instantly Dobby stopped, "Muggle uncle Harry Potter injured Harry Potter."

Ignoring him, Harry said, "If you help me, I won't get hurt again."

"Alright. Dobby is willing to help Harry Potter."

Harry smiled and handed him a fold of letters. Unconsciously his finger plunged a blood spot on the cheap paper, "Give this to Heir Flint when he is alone."

"Harry Potter knows the black wizard?"

"I entered Slytherin, Dobby. And the black wizard is not evil. It is man who does evil, whether he is a black or white wizard or even a muggle."

He took a surprised breath. "Like Harry Potter's uncle." He nodded, "Dobby is going to deliver the letter of the Good Wizard Harry Potter!" Then with a loud POP sound, it disappeared.

Now he just needs to surrender it to fate. He hoped that at least Marcus would be curious about the invitation he wrote on the paper. Because he is not sure that he can survive the next few days. He hopes that Dobby will come back to give him a report that he has completed his task. But to his surprise, as the distinctive POP sound sounded again, it wasn't Dobby's high voice that jerked his consciousness. Instead the baritone's voice was serious and he ended up in a familiar embrace. "Harry." Harry buried his face into Marcus's neck, inhaling aloud the masculine scent he missed. While Marcus observed every inch of his body.

Harry's watery eyes scanned Marcus without being able to speak, the young man looked different, much more dashing than before. Or is it just because he misses it? His black hair was styled with wild hair children left fall framing his forehead, giving him a rebellious impression on his noble style. His dark long-sleeved shirt did not hide the curves of the muscles. But with all his perfection, it is not the profile like Adonis that always attracts people's attention, but the aura of existence that seems to fill the room, filling Harry, domineering, and at the same time providing protection.

"Those muggles," he growled. Her hands moved gently cupped Harry's chin to observe the swelling on his cheeks. "Your ears are bleeding," he hissed. With a short gesture, he wrapped Harry in his robe and picked him up, "Where are your things?"

"Locked in the closet under the stairs."

"Elf! Collect Harry's things and send them to the manor."

Dobby, who looked as angry as Marcus, snapped his fingers.

"My wand under the pillow," Harry whispered, still sticking his face around Marcus's neck "I'm not dreaming, right? You really came?"

Marcus buried his face in Harry's hair, not caring about it even though it was dirty. "No one will be able to hurt you again, Harry."

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry whispered, making the elf squirm and his ears ups and downs.

"Elf," Marcus stretched out his hand. The elf took his hand and carried them in an apparated vortex.

As soon as Marcus's feet treaded the ground, he immediately took Harry to a nearby tree so that Harry could spit out the bitter liquid from his empty stomach. The young man conjured the glass filled with water and helped him drink, "Slow down. This is naturally for the first experience of apparated."

Harry groaned, "I don't want to feel it anymore."

Marcus smiled crookedly, "I assure you, it's a useful skill."

"Marcus Flint, sir! Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is going to teach Muggles a lesson!" then he disappeared with a loud POP sound.

Harry groaned, "I hope he doesn't create a riot that attracts the attention of the Ministry."

"I know, he's Malfoy's elf. Why is he there?"

"It warned me not to come to Hogwarts this year because there is danger." Marcus squinted, making Harry flick a weak hand, "He didn't explain it to me. I thought he panicked when he saw me lying on the floor."

He gritted his teeth, "Come on, you have a fever." He returned Harry in a sling and led him down the stone floor that cut through the vast garden to the large building in front of him. The building was larger than Hogwarts, with white walls and tall towers decorated with long windows. Far from the image of the castle owned by a black wizard. In fact, when compared, Hogwarts seems much darker and mystical.

A young woman, like she hadn't reached the age of 30, stood welcoming them at the door. Harry couldn't determine how old he was, as wizards aged slower than muggles; which he thought was a dozen years old, could have been in his late 20s. The woman wears a very beautiful maroon dress. Her dark hair was high-pigtailed like the style of a typical noble lady. His blue eyes widened when he saw Harry, then nodded at Marcus, "Bring mr. Potter to the room, I'll call healer." The woman left at a brisk pace, while Marcus led her down a corridor filled with luxurious ornaments, such as; antique cabinets, wooden tables with some decorations on them and paintings containing people who followed them curiously.

Marcus pushed open the giant wooden door at the end of the passage and walked down the spacious hall with a crystal chandelier in the middle, towards a carpeted wooden staircase. Then he turned towards a deeper corridor that had fewer paintings and ornaments. Marcus pushed one of the doors there and led them to a very spacious apartment room with several rooms in it. He knew this was Marcus's room from the books on his shelves and desks, glass tubes filled with pieces of chocolate and candy, and posters of quidditch players moving on his walls.

Out of the common room, Marcus led her to a mahogany door with unique carvings. Behind it, a large bed with a canopy stood in the middle with some ornaments such as wardrobes and sleeping tables. Underneath is a fur carpet that adorns most of its wooden floors. The tall windows with open curtains show a view of the foothills of the mountain and the horse field. In the distance a large river with an arch bridge complements.

He sat Harry on the bed carefully. "Harry," he pulled his chin. "Allow me," she said as she pulled off the cloak and began to unbutton it. Harry shook off his hand with a scarlet face. "Shhh. Don't be shy. Soon there will be a Healer who will check you." That gantleman-style attitude made Harry panic instead. He knew Marcus was like that because he was injured, but Harry was more comfortable when he spoke in his usual sharp and harsh tone.

But Harry understands that Marcus is currently very protective and he will not accept the word no. So instead, he asked, "Do I also need to take off my pants?" Marcus looked at him as if saying, of course, stupid. Uh. Okay." He closed his eyes as the big fingers began to unbutton them. It felt like he wanted the earth to swallow him round and round to cover up the embarrassment. Marcus raised an eyebrow while observing Harry's expression, and then he grinned as if teasing him. made Harry agitated.

The young man hissed when he saw the wound on his back. "What's that bad?" whispered Harry. The sharp gaze made him tight-lipped. He let Marcus carefully observe the sensitive skin covered with the strokes of lash wounds. Who is the one who has the heart to do this! "I hope mommy brings Healer soon."

"Don't worry, my son." The beautiful woman just now walked in with another woman in a hat and a typical Healer St. Mungo dress with a thin green color. To Harry he said, "mr. Potter, this is Healer Annie Bells. He has experience dealing with the Flint family."

"Hello, ma'am..." Harry whispered.

"Hello, mr. Potter. Allow me," he said, observing Harry's wounds. There was a fiery fire in his eyes and his lips became stiff. His reaction didn't help calm Marcus who was standing tense by his side. Before long the woman straightened up and whispered quickly at the lady Flint who nodded and took notes. "Mr. Flint. You need to clean the wound with warm water and apply this remedy once every three hours. I hope that tomorrow the infection is cured. For the fever, you need to drink this mr. Potter," he pulled out a bottle of potion and asked Harry to take a sip of it. Harry frowned at the taste, but he once got worse. "The potion is taken three times after eating." Then to all of them he said, "Because mr. Potter has some improperly cured bone problems and some cracked ribs, as well as malnutrition—"

"What?" as Marcus was, making The Window tremble from the pressure of his magic.

Ignoring him as if he was used to Flint's temperament, madam Annie continued, "—I'll need to make a potion that I'll send you as soon as it's done. I won't waste time, excuse me."

"Annie, you can use the potions lab here."

"Ah! Sure, my lady."

"Marcus, you know what you should do?"

The young man nodded.

Before the woman went to deliver the Healer, Harry exclaimed, "Wait," seeing the two turn around, Harry blushed, embarrassedly he said, "Thank you, Lady Flint, madam Bells."

The lady's blue eyes softened, though she retorted in a cold tone as if enduring pent-up anger. Harry hoped it wasn't aimed at him, "Sure mr. Potter. But you can hold me Sharon."

"And I'm Harry, please," he said with a smile. The two women looked at each other, then nodded. I don't know what they shared in secret, but Harry's attention returned to Marcus who was now rubbing his lips against his fingers. His dark eyes pierced sharply on the silver bracelet in his hand.

"The bracelet protects me," making Marcus look up, "I can feel your magic protecting me every time I take a hit. It reduced the force of the impact so that I could still breathe."

"You won't come back there," Marcus vowed, making Harry smile. The young man called the House elf who was carrying toiletries and a change of clothes. The magical creature followed them into the bathroom and placed all of it beside a towel folded on the marble table. Enduring embarrassment, he let Marcus help him undress and guide him to a bathtub already filled with warm water. Before long the color of the water turned pink, making Marcus frown his forehead. "I'm going to kill those muggles!"

"Don't. Their lives are meaningless if Azkaban is at stake."

"No, if no one finds their bodies."

"Can you help wash my hair?" then blinked my eyes when he saw the muscle curves of the exiled shirt sleeves. Smiling while closing his eyes satisfied that he could already distract Marcus, Harry was drowsy as his head was gently massaged. Before long Flint made Harry end up in a soft towel as he watched the clothes in his hand. "Huh. This is my shirt when I was seven years old," he said, with high eyebrows. Harry rolled his eyeballs. Without a doubt, who else is the tallest child among his peers?

Her expression turned stiff and her cheeks flushed, as she noticed the rough fingers gently rubbing the medicine over her wound. Harry could only silently sniff the sheets while biting his lip. Marcus's hand moved around Harry's waist and pulled him into his lap, "Shhh... don't be restrained," she said when she heard him whimper. "So I can tell when pressing too hard." The fingers traced down his spine, before stopping at the tailbone. Harry hissed as he gripped Marcus' arm. "I'm really going to kill them," Marcus whispered in a cold tone that gave Harry goosebumps. Misinterpreting it, Marcus cast a warming spell. Then he again applied the cream carefully. "I had a bad feeling when you didn't reply to my letters."

Harry gasped.

"Lord Nott raised Theodore's concerns when I met him at the Ministry. Had Dobby not come, I would have already had plans to track you down."

"Uh, Theo must be furious," he groaned, "Also Draco. I'm not sure Dobby told me about his visit," he looked at Marcus guiltily, "I didn't receive all the letters this summer, Dobby hid them."

"Because of the danger at Hogwarts?" is more precisely the danger that follows Harry. But he just nodded.

"Dobby thought if I didn't receive my letter, I wouldn't have gone to Hogwarts because I didn't have any friends," he gritted his shoulders.

"Ah... elven logic."

"Uh-huh."

He twisted Harry so that his back was facing him, Harry pulled the blanket to cover his lower body. Marcus raised Harry's leg slightly and inspected the wound on the inner thigh. "I... I can do it myself," he squirmed, scarlet. Marcus raised an eyebrow, but thrust the potion over. He helped Harry by slightly raising his foot. Only then did lady Flint walk in and stop her footsteps in shock, "Oh!"

Harry pulled down the blanket and hid his face.

The woman laughed, "Oh! Don't ignore me, my dear. I just made sure that the house elves had brought the correct clothes. Stupid me! I won't bother you guys." It moved out, but before closing the door, said warningly, "Marcus. Remember, so gantleman." The door closed with a soft clicking sound. Harry groaned loudly to the sound of Marcus' laughter.

"There is no need to be anxious. It's just mommy," Marcus pulled Harry's hair lightly and lifted him up so that their heads were aligned. "Do you want me to give you a kiss on your wound like you normally do?" Harry shook his head in panic. His face was serious as he said, "Are you sure?" he moved closer. Harry moved back, pushing his shoulder which instead made Marcus laugh. Pouting, he snatched his shirt and stuffed it into his head.

Marcus grabbed Harry and led him to a long mirror so he could observe his reflection. At a glance, Harry saw the reflection of the erised mirror. But turned that thought on the pale face and panda eyes. His black hair, which was usually messy, now looked unhealthy. "We're going to give your hair a potion," Marcus said as he followed the direction of his eyes. Harry's emerald petals looked like antelope eyes, rounded and large between the recesses that signaled stress. Then his gaze fell on the tunic that was now bandaging his body. The expensive clothes are made of dark blue silk that is very soft and cold when worn. She cuts a simple cut with a tunic style that makes her like a nightgown. When Harry put it on, his arms were 3 centi longer and the bottom fell on the knees. His skin looked so white as porseline compared to the dark color of his shirt.

As his eyes turned to Marcus's reflection, his cheeks flushed. The young man was observing it. His black eyes moved intensely as if he was mapping Harry. The big hand pulled the hem of her loose tunic slightly, "Huh, it seems that you are indeed a dwarf." Harry kicked him lightly while pursing his lips. The big arm twisted him again so that now he could lean his chin against Marcus's shoulder, not thinking about the big hand that had now ended up supporting his lower body. The palm was so big that it easily enclosed Harry, but it also made him feel protected. If others look, they must be embarrassed to see the intimacy. But Harry was too comfortable to think of anything. He yawned.

"Eat first before going to bed," she said, opening the serving hood that contained still steaming soup, a few cups of cake and a glass of tea. Marcus sat Harry down to the couch and grabbed his bowl to feed him. As Harry shook his head full, Marcus growled, remembering Dursley. He knew it would take a long time for Harry to be able to accept the normal portion. Ignoring the rest of the food, Marcus took Harry to the bed and enveloped him, indirectly telling him to sleep. He did not protest because his damaged body was already very tired and it was not long before he fell asleep. Marcus combed Harry's hair with his fingers as he observed his pale face and cracked lips.

"Boy."

"Mommy," Marcus whispered with a hard expression, still looking at Harry. "They locked him up with bars and left him bleeding there. The door is filled with slots and cat doors for entering food. The dirty glasses and dishes there told me they didn't feed him, at least it's been days!" Marcus turned to his mother. "He said, had there been no protective spell of mine, it might have died! That close I lost him."

"Yes. Annie has already explained to me if her injuries are much longer. They've injured him even when he's still learning to walk."

"I want him out of that hell! I can't let a wizard child live in the middle of muggles and be treated like a slave! Even the House elves are treated better than this!" hurting children is the biggest taboo in the wizarding world. Because witches consider a child so precious that the purest magic is given by the magic lady.

"I know, Marcus. I will have your father take his medical files to the Ministry of Magic."

Marcus turned his head in panic, "You don't think about taking it as an adopted son, do you?"

Lady Flint raised an eyebrow, "Of course not," she stared at the silver jewelry wrapped around Harry's wrist. The woman smiled dangerously, "It's strange that just muggles get custody of wizards who are not only The Survival Child, but also Heir Potter. The Ministry should not allow it." His blue eyes were like iron as he stared at his only child. "None of this is a coincidence, Marcus."

"Dumbledore."

The woman nodded. "No one knows where mr. Potter before, except for Dumbledore. No Ministry or anyone else. Meanwhile, there are many people who are willing to kiss the feet just so that they can take care of the Surviving Child. But I'm sure that he was the one who put Harry in muggle custody. There was something wrong in this incident and everything was centered on Dumbledore. "

It is no longer unusual for pureblood circles who still hold the old tradition, Dumbledore's name has always been talked about with suspicion. But as her mother said, these are all too suspicious to be considered a coincidence. "You thought Dumbledore wanted Harry to be stupid on his line of descent." Marcus rubbed his chin, "It's not strange that he wants Harry to be submissive by putting him in a muggle who hates magic, making him have a character who can't fight back. Yes. I could see that in Harry, but instead of being submissive, Harry went into Slytherin house instead, getting him out of manipulation."

His mother nodded, "I believe Dumbledore has expectations that he will enter Gryffindor like his parents. I'm sure he wants Harry to be surrounded by a family of supporters of the light lord."

Marcus laughed. "But he's Slytherin. Dumbledore couldn't manipulate it."

"Correct."

"And I'm sure Harry planned all that."

"Oh?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "He's Slytherin from most Slytherin, mommy. After all, with Harry's unique ability..."

"Unique?" the sound of baritones made them turn to Gideon Flint who was big and nearly two meters tall entering the room. His dark eyes were like a duplicate of Marcus' eyes. Only dark brown hair distinguishes the features of both. Marcus's black hair is exactly the same as his mother.'

"Yes. The ability to know things."

Gideon Flint raised an eyebrow, while his wife looked at harry who was asleep with an incredulous look, "A Seer?"

"Uh. I'm not so sure, but..."

"Hm... I don't remember any descendants of Potter who had that talent. But his grandmother was a Black. Dorea Black. The Black family has Seer's blood."

His mother shrugs, "Maybe not entirely Seer? Like miss Lovegood?"

"Well, at least he's natural Occlumency—"

"Occlumency! At the age of eleven?" his mother exclaimed.

"Twelve weeks away."

"Oh! We have to celebrate."

"Ah, if it's true he's Seer, no wonder he's hiding it," his father said, shifting the conversation, before they could discuss decorations, gifts or cakes. His father walked to the side of the bed, then gave Marcus a fierce look as he said in a serious tone, "You should know the consequences, Marcus. If it is true that we are dealing with Seer, they bring not only glory, but also danger. They are only born in a time of conflict, and will always be at the center," Gideon patted Marcus on the shoulder. "But I'm sure I've raised you to overcome all that."

Marcus licked his lips, "Flint is not just a wizard, but a warrior."

"Yes. Long before we broke away from muggles. The Flints were the Knights of Merlin. Don't forget it."

Marcus nodded.

Flint will never forget the old ordinances. What makes up them. Unlike other magic nobles who have forgotten their origins. Forgetting that glory does not lie in blood, property or power. However, honor and magic. The reason why the pureblood maintained the purity of his blood was not for racist reasons as Malfoy put it; that muggle-borns are muggles who have stolen their magic. But keeping that purity is because the older the blood comes from, the stronger the magic in it. Once or twice a generation of marrying muggleborns or halfbloods is not something taboo for Flint, because it needs to be done in order to maintain sanity. Keep them from madness like the Gaunt or Black family experienced.

Lord Potter knew that, but his knowledge disappeared with James Potter. Unfortunately, Black, whose blood is cursed by hereditary madness, has lost his knowledge. Stay flint and some generations like Greengrass or Nott know. That's also why they're Neutral in politics. Malfoy didn't realize this because he was still a new blood type. Where it has its roots in France and has only been in England for generations. Unlike Flint, who is an old blood in The United Kingdom, such as Potter or Black. And this knowledge is only possessed by the 28 oldest aristocratic families, which is now just a finger count away.

Had the purebloods known to Molonog Marcus, perhaps the chaos in the wizarding world would never have happened and Harry Potter didn't have to be the Surviving Child. Hopefully with all the intrigue around Dumbledore, he still retains his naivety a little longer. Especially after a childhood that was taken away from him because of the Dursleys. Yes, even if Harry is able to see the future, he is still relatively naïve on certain things, just like children his age.

Harry Potter woke up from his dreamless sleep. Something that signifies if his body has completely rested. But even so, he did not immediately open his eyes. He still enjoys the taste of being surrounded by warmth. By the way his warmth moved away and made him tighten his grasp. "Harry, I knew you were awake ten minutes ago."

"Em..." he still closed his eyes, "Why do you want to get up early."

"It's already noon, princess, and my stomach is already screaming for filling."

"Usually it doesn't stop you."

"That's right. But now I have a boy whose stomach needs to be here too. Don't think I didn't hear the sound of your stomach—"

"Hey! I'm not a brat!"

"—Also Misty informed that we are waiting for the lord and lady Flint."

It was his father and mother, for Merlin's sake. Why did he call her lord and lady. Harry opened his eyes and waddled. There lay down, the young man adonis like a seducer god, with his black hair children covering part of his eyes, hard arms, a chest full of scars and broad shoulders, not to mention his height that made him widely mistaken for having troll blood. Harry knew if the call was given by those who were afraid of Marcus. Humph, it is appropriate that Marcus is feared, with his character and charisma, he is very intimidating. Had it not been for his vision, Harry might also have been one of those intimidated (hello~ he was short, thin and unattractive, you know?), Ah, but Harry also entered Gryffindor and became Marcus' natural enemy, had it not been for his vision.

"Harry. You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"Uh..." he averted his eyes as he flushed.

After wrestling with Marcus who forced him to open his shirt to see his wound and lose. They knew that if the injuries were healed, there was not even a trace. Satisfied, Marcus threw Harry into the bathroom and told him to hurry up. When he came out of there Marcus was already neatly dressed in a burgundy red tunic whose arms were darker than the rest of the section. Black leather pants and dragon boots complemented his masculine style of dress; clearly shows the wide shoulders, slender body typical of quidditch players and also his muscular long legs, not to mention the long arms that are now scrambled in his waist. But what attracted his attention even more was the short sword around his waist with a flint symbol, typical of the Flint family.

"You didn't take a shower?"

"There's magic for it, fool."

"But you told me to take a bath!"

"Because you're going to be more comfortable with that as a result of the drugs that are on your body, stupid. These are your clothes."

"Where are you going?"

"Do you want company while dressed?" he said with a grin before closing the door on the scarlet Harry.

Harry's outfit was a dark green shirt top with loose black pants equipped with a black leather belt. The clothes were designed for convenience. A pair of loafers to replace her flat shoes. As he walked out of the room, Marcus stood waiting for him as he scrambled and leaned against the wall. He whistled. "You look like you should."

Harry rolled an eyeball, "It is indeed what I was like before?"

Marcus grinned. "Not like pureblood."

"It's like that's just a compliment. I'm not pureblood anyway."

As he walked, he said, "You know, you're considered pureblood in the witch tradition."

"How can it be. My mother is muggle-born."

"That's because you're Heir Potter. Your mother was a lady after she married your father. Even if they are not people who follow tradition, but in the face of the old law, you two are considered pureblood."

"Oh. It's not explained in the book I read."

"That's because they only explain tradition in general. There's a lot of things beyond that. Such as about squibs or children born out of wedlock. Pureblood traditions aren't as rigid or cruel as you think."

"Oh! I'm happy if you're going to show me the book, Marcus."

"I'll lend you."

"Trims."

Harry turned his head when he heard the sound of footsteps. He saw a boy hiding behind an antique urn. The other child walked over, turning his head as if he was looking. Ah, hide and seek! Harry's inner. Both of them have black hair with pale skin that is like porcelain. The hair was cut short, almost undercut, but still did not reduce the wildness. They are aged in the age range of 7-10 years. "You never said you had a younger brother, Marcus." Harry's voice echoed in the quiet corridor. The two children turned their heads for a moment towards them, before returning to continue playing.

"I don't have a younger brother, Harry."

Huh?

Marcus looked at him with a strange look. So silent and full of speculation. "But—" Harry turned to the two children again, he noticed the corridor he saw was much darker as if it had been afternoon. Then, one of them turned to him. His emerald green eyes flickered; the emerald color was like Harry's, and then he smiled. The other child was suddenly already beside him and patted Harry's arm, making him gasp. Harry realized they were twins. The difference is that now it is the black eyes with a silver tinge on the retina that are looking at Harry back. The child blinked one eye, before suddenly disappearing.

He staggered, but Marcus supported him. "You're okay?" Harry nodded, still speechless. This was the first time his vision was able to interact with him. Is it going to happen again? Who are the two boys?

Marcus didn't let go of Harry, as if worried about his health. His hands were on her back as she led her towards the dining room. Lord and Lady Flint were already waiting for them at the dinner table. "Sorry, we're late," Marcus said, prompting Harry to sit down by his side.

"Lord Flint, Lady Flint. It's honor to be able to meet you. Thank you for wanting to accommodate me here, my lord," he said, ducking briefly.

Seeing that they were taken aback, not expecting Harry to know noble-style manners. But what's so surprised? Harry entered Slytherin anyway. If he is not taught, at least he can observe. With a flushed face he finally sat down.

"Heir Potter. Nice to meet you in better shape," the lord retorted formally. "I hope the accommodation I gave doesn't disappoint," he said with a grin and looked at Marcus. Ah, now Harry knew where the smirk came from. Marcus cleared his throat under his father's meaningful gaze.

Harry, who didn't know about the secret interchangeable gaze, only responded, "No, my lord," with a weak tone and an embarrassed gesture that made lady Flint exclaim resoundingly. Harry glanced at Marcus as they started eating; see which spoon to take. Secretly Marcus moved slower, so Harry was easier to imitate him.

"Actually, I called you two here because I had something to discuss with you," said lord Flint.

"Oh?" Harry swallowed and nodded.

"I know you didn't live well during your time with Muggles. But Marcus' actions are still considered kidnapping in the eyes of the law because you are a minor." Harry paled. He turned to Marcus whose expression was unreadable, "But we also can't let you continue to be in that horrible place. I knew you wouldn't be willing if we sent your health file to the Ministry, would you?" Harry shook his head hard, he didn't want everyone to know about the violence he was experiencing. If the dossier enters the Ministry, there is no doubt that in a matter of seconds the Daily Prophet will know.

The man nodded. "Hence we need to go to Gringotts to negotiate with the Goblins. I believe your custody of Muggles is not valid, but we still need a legal dossier to support it. So that we can take custody of you or transfer it to a trustworthy wizard."

"You guys want to adopt me?" dropped Marcus' fork.

The two Flints looked at each other, before Gideon replied, "Not really an adoption. But take custody until you're old enough to take your title and carry out the duties of a Potter lord."

Harry nodded. He couldn't imagine if he became Marcus's adopted younger brother. They're close friends, but become brothers? Harry didn't want to imagine it.

"So actually I can't be taken care of by the Dursleys?"

"I'm sure, as a Heir Potter, it's impossible for you to be nurtured by muggles. Not if the Ministry knew." Harry's eyes were watering, he nodded and hinted at lord Flint continuing, "We have a suspicion of who put you there, but we also need a powerful weapon to prevent him from moving you at will in case we manage to take your custody from muggles."

"Dumbledore?" whispered Harry softly. Made the three flints gasp.

"You know," Marcus blurted out.

Harry bit his lip, then nodded.

Lord Flint leaned his back in a relieved manner. "That's why you entered Slytherin. Karea you want to avoid Dumbledore's manipulation."

Harry nodded, then shook his head, "The selection hat also told me to go there."

Suddenly the man was chuckled. His voice was loud and short before he returned to seriousness. But his eyes flashed with manipulation, "A Potter in Slytherin after so many decades. Good. It means that you are not as aggressive as I imagined." Harry flushed. "We're going to Gringotts after this. We don't want Dumbledore to get ahead of our pace."

Marcus helped her put on a cape gifted from him. His hood covered Harry's face and gave him camouflage. Didn't think much, the young man grabbed him in a sling, and as usual, Harry just wrapped his arms around the young man's neck, as if it were natural. The two Flints looked at them with raised eyebrows, but did not comment. Along the way to Gringotts, many heads turned twice when they saw Flint's entourage. If it's just one of them, it's already commonplace. But the three walked together, it's something rare. Especially when heir Flint was carrying a mysterious figure wrapped in a beautiful and expensive robe. Of course it is not an ordinary person. That thought made a lot of speculations pop up.

Even if Diagon Alley is empty of visitors on dates like this, but some purebloods still seem to be transacting because this is indeed close to their neighborhood. Some of those who are still of school age certainly know who Marcus is holding. Among those slytherins came to a conclusion; maybe it's a common thing at Hogwarts, but it's different if Marcus does it in front of both his parents. That means the two indirectly agreed to Marcus' claim. Although the claim is not a formal bond, if the lord of the family approves, then Harry is considered his fiancée magically. So the Flint family also politically tied themselves to Potter. Convinced that it was impossible for lord Flint to tie himself to Dombledore, then there was only one conclusion.

As the four entered Gringotts, they ignored the teller queue and headed straight for a deeper room, where only a Goblin who didn't seem busy, sat reading with his gold-rimmed glasses. Lord Flint asked to meet the chief financial officer of the Potter family, surprising the Goblin that a Potter wanted to be with Flint. But the Goblin, with a slightly more polite attitude than when dealing with ordinary people, let them wait in a more private room.

Harry was already able to take off his hood and sit on Marcus' lap. The two Flints just stared at them for a few seconds before ignoring him and talking about his affairs agilely, as if knowing that the Goblins thought their time was worth more than gold. It was surprising when Griphook said that Gringotts had sent Harry an invitation letter to take care of his account. But Harry never received the letter. Cleverly, Lord Flint and Griphook investigate it, until it comes to one conclusion; Dumbledore had withheld all the letters. Apparently from the track record, this isn't the first time it's happened. Fortunately, no money was taken in secret, because taking what was in the Vault could only be done by those with Potter's blood.

Marcus continued to rub his tense back, aware that Harry was upset. "I hate Dumbledore," Harry whispered.

"I know." Marcus knew if he wasn't just angry because of the letters.

Griphook tells them that the letter also contains an invitation to read out Harry's parents' will. His father and mother combined their wills in a sealed piece of paper. From there they learned that Sirius Black was Harry's Godfather, who, when they died, had custody of him. But that couldn't happen because Sirius Black was in Azkaban. What is even more surprising is, the last sentence stating that in any case the custody of Harry Potter should not be given to Petunia Dursley.

"But eleven years I lived there! I shouldn't have been taken care of by them!" Harry was really in a break down point.

Marcus cupped Harry's cheek, emerald eyes staring at the deep dark eyes, "They won't be able to touch you. I will do whatever it takes to prevent it."

"There are only two ways to prevent it," Griphook said, catching their attention. "If it makes a blood adoption OR," Griphook exclaimed upon hearing their protest, "awakening the ancient protective magic-Miles Antiquis Protector. The protection magic that can only be resurrected by Merlin's blood."

"What?" whispered lord Flint, while the others looked confused. "Harry?"

"Yes. Mr. Potter of course. The Potters have Merlin's blood. This is the knowledge that only the Potter family has. But given that the last Potter's position is under threat, and you're a Flint, I think we can awaken the old magic," the Goblin explained as if it wasn't an extraordinary thing.

"Dad? What does this mean the same as I heard," Marcus whispered in an incredulous tone.

"What?" Harry pulled the fabric of his shirt, looking confused.

Lord Flint got up and aligned his head with Harry. "Mr. Potter. If we do this, we can protect you without taking over custody. Here the flint family's role is as a protector, merlin's knight—Merlinus Miles. But to confirm this, we have to tell it to the general public, but it also lets them all know if you're a descendant of Merlin."

Harry's eyes rounded with his mouth quibbling.

"Yes. I know you don't like your fame. But this is important to do. Are you willing?"

"Uh," Harry bit his lip. "But doesn't it make your position lower than mine?"

The man grinned. Smart boy. "From the beginning Flint was a Merlin soldier. Even if the position is not as harsh as it was a few centuries ago, Flint's position has always been under Merlin's descendants. But take it easy, the position is only traditionally. Not in politics. We're still moving as it is now. Are you willing?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Griphook?"

"The ritual can be done in the ritual space. Please come with me."

The room was walled and stone-floored. On the floor was a pentagram with foreign runes that Harry didn't recognize. But it seemed familiar to lord gideon or Marcus as they seemed to research it. Harry knew even though Marcus was bad at lessons, but runes were one of the subjects he was talking about.

"Your blood, mr. Potter," Griphook said, thrusting the golden bowl. To Lord Flint the Goblin said, "Looking at the Misterss bracelet on mr. 's wrist. Potter, I suggest to mr. Flint did it?" the lord nodded, and signaled Marcus to drip his blood on the golden bowl where a few drops of Harry's blood were. "In the middle of the rune, please." Marcus carried Harry to the middle. The three moved around the circle. "I'll cast the spell, please be patient," the Goblin said and without waiting to utter the ancient Latin while dropping the drops of blood.

Instantly the circles and symbols around them glowed. The air became heavy and Marcus fell on one leg, still gripping Harry hard. The air signaled a moving magic, and the magic moved as if it was squeezing Harry. Then suddenly, the pressure disappeared with a huge burst of energy that made the three of them thrown hitting the wall. Marcus and Harry ended up face down at the center of the pentagram which was now hissing with burn marks and black smoke. Marcus's shirt was damaged with burn marks and on his exposed back a coiled ancient rune that glowed gold before finally vanishing leaving a black tattoo.

"The Miles Antiquis Protector has been activated," Griphook said, out of breath, correcting his tie. "I guess you guys want this news to be in the Daily Prophet? Gringotts can help take care of it for a fee, of course."

"Yes, please." said Lord Flint while helping his wife up.

"Can't wait for this news to appear, thank you Griphook."

Griphook ducked politely, "Honor to me, lady Flint."

Harry grasped Marcus's arm that seemed to be enduring pain. But the young man just cupped his hand to Harry's cheek as he said, "Don't be anxious. It's not the worst thing I've ever felt. Not as bad as cruciatus curse," which in no way diminished his anxiety.

Easily Marcus happened to be his clothes and removed all the dirt on the two of them, before finally returning to hold Harry. He yawned and resuscitated his head against the shoulder of the field, again drowning himself in a sense of security in protective embrace. The magic between them buzzed harmoniously and brought the tired Harry into dreamland. Harry didn't realize when they came home. Yes, go home. I don't know since when he considered Flint Manor his home. It may also be because of the Miles Antiquis Protector, who knows.

As one might have guessed, the Miles Antiquis Protector who proved Merlin's blood in the Potter family made headlines in Dialy Prophet. So in demand, the news agency made an exclusive issue printed in the morning and evening specifically to discuss the Potter and Flint families. From there Harry even got a lot of information that the Miles Antiquis Protector apparently could only be activated between Merlin's descendants and the Flint family. A brief history of the Flint family of generations past generations is also explained. A standing that made them one of the 28 ancient nobles and their old roles that have been forgotten by the wizarding community.

This not only evokes memories of Merlin, but also the honor Flint holds as Merlinus Miles—Merlin's knight. The Potters' discussion reached several pages, something that caught Harry's attention more than anything else because he was as blind as a layman. Since Potter's manor was destroyed in battle, all his family history has disappeared there. Even portraits of his ancestors.

The newspaper showed an in-depth investigation of his origins who also had Peverell's ancestry from Ignotus, Peverell's youngest boy. Peverell also had strong ties to both Gryffindor and Slytherin houses because they came from the descendants of these two families before changing their name to Potter. Gringotts also informed in his letter that came in conjunction with this newspaper that Harry could claim the Peverell family Vault if he wished, but not for Merlin because the Vault had long since disappeared with his descendants, becoming several Vaults in the pureblood family such as Gryffindor, Slytherin, Peverell and Potter. Automatically made him the richest wizard boy in Europe, even if Harry didn't know that.

Since the news came out, hundreds of letters have arrived, mostly from purebloods and some from professors. Keeping the house-elves extra busy to sort between safe and cursed letters. The only letters taken by Harry were those from his friends. The rest were taken by lady and lord Flint, while the other part was burned by Marcus (mostly because it contained an engagement contract).

The young man walked into their room with a satisfied face even though it was surrounded by the smell of burning. Harry just raised an eyebrow and continued to read the letter from Draco. "He was angry because of the news from me that he got even from the Daily Prophet," Harry chuckled, "But he also congratulated him between his cursing." In the wizarding world, old ways like the Miles Antiquis Protector are something worth celebrating.

"In case lord Malfoy knew how bad the child's mouth was."

"Huh, I think that guy is proud of her. Especially when the mouth is aimed at muggle-borns."

"I hope it's not aimed at like Malfoy kissing muggle-borns, huh?" Marcus grinned.

"Like he's going to put his lips close to something that's not pure," she retorted saccharistically.

"Dad got a letter from Dumbledore."

"Huh?"

"He congratulated and also persuasive advice to return you to Privet Drive because of the Blood Protection that protects you from Voldemort," looking at Harry's puzzled face, the young man explained, "Blood Protection is black magic, where the spell spell-speaker can protect people with the same blood as him, in which case your mother performs very ancient black magic. He sacrificed himself as a reward for perfect protection for you. But this protection is only activated by those with the same blood, in this case your aunt. But unfortunately, Miles Antiquis Protector, is much older and effective than that, mainly because Blood Protection is strengthened by love, whereas your aunt doesn't love you like me."

Harry flushed. "Uh, of course, you can't possibly beat me or lock me in a closet, right?"

"Fool," Marcus just scrambled his hair and lay along with it, reading the letters of Harry's friends.

Maybe The magic community is being made excited by the news. But Harry, who is currently in Flint's safe, hidden and exclusive residence, is not quite aware of the impact. The days that passed after that were as peaceful as ordinary days. Moreover, he did not pay much attention to the cycle of arrival of owls. He had a lot of new activities that were his favorites, something that couldn't be done in the Dursleys. Like reading as much as he likes, having tea with Lady Flint—"Sharon, Please. I'm calling you anyway, Harry," said the lady—while learning manners and also learning to ride a horse with lord Gideon. But there is one that is the favorite of the favorites; See Marcus training.

If you thought you had seen how dangerous Flint was when subverting the Trolls, that's just the tip of the iceberg. Then you wonder where all those injuries came from? Let me explain where it came from! Harry was very excited to see the young man messing with his sword, or his dagger, or his arrow!

In one of the basements in the manor, there is a room dedicated to practicing swords. After learning about manners, he knew that only sword masters alone were allowed to bear swords. It indicates that the sword around Marcus' waist, as Harry saw when they last went to Gringotts, was not just a decoration. Marcus played the thing like he was just a bubble blower, instead of a 120-centi-long sword, typical of European long swords, with a double-edged blade 90-92 centi long and weighing 1.3 kilograms. It's not an easy thing to grasp, let alone swing.

When Harry asked, why did he practice swords when he had the magic to complete everything. The young man replied, "At the beginning all wizards had this ability. Especially in the middle ages, where magic was considered taboo and one of the ways to protect oneself in public places, in addition to magic, was swords, spears or arrows. However, now there are only a handful of pureblood families who maintain it, and most of them are only those of chivalrous descent, such as Flint, Nott and Lestrange."

"Huh, so each pureblood has its own origins that make them do a certain tradition while others don't. Like what else?"

"Hm... I don't really understand because it's a family secret. But what I know, Greengrass is good at trade, Black as a spy, Prince is good at potions and healing—"

"Prince? Never heard of it."

"Ah. Snape. He's the last Prince of the female line. Had his mother not been expelled from the family for marrying a muggle, perhaps professor Snape would have been lord Prince."

Harry widened with a gaping mouth, "Professor Snape is a lord?!"

"Uh, had he ever wanted to claim the ring of the lordship. Yes he is a lord."

"Why not?"

"Well. It's a personal affair. But I think it's because the professor doesn't want to deal with Prince?"

"Isn't lord Prince dead?"

"Yes."

"The name Prince has more meaning, right?"

Marcus nodded, "The Prince family has European noble blood, from the Roman Empire."

"oh! Professor Snape is a nobleman!"

Flint squinted, "Just like all of us."

"But he's from a nobleman, you know? Like the emperor!" Marcus sighed. "Don't we have to call him, Your Majesty?"

"Yes. If you want to get detention."

Harry pursed his lips. "What about Malfoy?"

"They're not that old. It is still relatively new for pureblood circles. They are from France and have only been in the UK for decades. Malfoy was able to marry Black because they were rich. Some even say they're not really pureblood. Besides his racist attitude towards magical creatures, some say they actually have Veela blood."

"Huh, maybe their skill is singing and dancing. You know how dandy Draco is," he said, causing Marcus to almost drop his sword as he churned into the stomach.

"I can understand that. Their pet is a Peacock after all."

"Don't tell me!"

"Dandy bird," they laughed loudly until Harry rolled over. That's how lady Sharon found them. The woman scrambled her waist while shaking her head. "Brat," he grumbled.