Courting Destiny

The tongue of fire made a look and disappeared along with Marcus's steps out of the fireplace. He rubbed as he then rubbed the floo powder left on his shoulder, while following his father's steps through the crowd. His pace was confident, fast, almost brutal. His formal black robe fluttered every time he stepped, though not as significant as professor Snape's.

Clearly visible on his back, the House of Flint Symbol is next to the Black Phoenix; the rarest type of Phoenix that is a symbol of the Knight Merlin. After the Daily Prophet article, Marcus is not only known as a Pureblood. But also the Knights of Merlin. Especially with his status as a Surviving Child Protector. Its popularity made many heads turn, whispering and pointing blatantly. Made him cast a smirk and a sharp gaze, instantly making them step aside.

His tall and huge body seemed to stand out among the crowd. Anyone can feel his heavy and dark aura. It rolls and roars at those standing nearby, making them take a step back instinctively. It's common that Flint is not a good wizard. Yes, they are honorable, but not good.

He followed his father's lead. The man's plum-colored robe fluttered every time he stepped. A silver W-symbolized robe that stands for Wizengamot; The Ministry of Magic's Parliament and Supreme Law Council consists only of purebloods—the place where the real power play lies. The cloak he will one day wear, but he hopes not in the near future, because it means that there is a real danger befalling his father.

They rose to level two. Exited easily from the elevator as the crammed witches did not have the courage to get ahead of them. The Ministry should have a special elevator for the 'just' staff. It saves time for those who actually work without having to get stuck in traffic. After all these Ministry staff are just a collection of wizards who work like they are chasing their own tails; lazy, without initiative and unproductive. It's not that it's racist, but it's reality. Wizards are generally too idiotic or crazy to think normally when making decisions, or even to simply protect themselves. Who is the healthy man who hangs his fate on a teenage boy to fight the dark lord? or assume a baby is capable of killing. Harry is indeed a special child, but not as special as surviving the Killing Curse. It all happened to lady Potter and the dark rituals she performed. He admired the imagination and innocence of those white wizards, making it easier for Dumbledore to manipulate them.

In a marble-floored lobby with large pillars that can only be found at this Level, they cross paths with a man in a robe identical to his father. The distinctive copper-colored hair made them instantly recognize him as lord Nott.

"Lord Flint!" exclaimed the man, coming over.

"Lord Nott," they shook hands with each other still as they stepped quickly.

"Heir Flint."

"My Lord."

"Congratulations on your achievement, Knight Merlin, huh?" he grinned, then his expression returned seriously, "Who would have thought potter was a descendant of Merlin," to Gideon he said, "It was also the one that urged Dumbledore to hold this meeting, and accidentally did not tell us if the meeting time was advanced by an hour! It must be to reduce the number of votes on the black Wizard's side."

Gideon hissed, "The old man must be blaming Owl. Whatever he does always bothers me. If it weren't for the lord Greengrass, we wouldn't know this meeting was advanced."

"We're not going to make him win," said lord Nott, patting him on the back.

Simultaneously, they pushed open the door of the meeting room hard, just at the end of Dumbledore's sentence that convinced Wizengamot that Harry Potter should return to his muggle uncle and aunt's place because of Blood Protection.

"I mind," Gideon said aloud. Lord Nott sat next to him, while Marcus stood behind them, watching. The wizards around him turned their heads with an admiring look at the symbols on his robes.

"Ah, lord Flint," Dumbledore, who was standing on the podium in the middle of the room because of his position as Chief Of Wizengamot, smiled with the charm of his Grandfathers. "I'm sure all this is just a misunderstanding. Of course we don't want to take away the rights and separate mr. Potter with his family, isn't he?" As if the Dursleys were family, Marcus' inner saccharist. "In addition, the Magic Protection that Lily Potter performs can only be activated by those who are inbred with mr. Potter. We shouldn't put the Hero of the wizarding world in the middle of danger, right? for even if he succeeded in destroying Voldemort,—" many people of the dark lord's name were called, "—there were still many of his followers who did not hesitate to harm him. Potter. I hope the board members will consider this carefully," the man concluded seriously, complete with the charm of a thoughtful principal. If only Marcus hadn't realized it could be as good as what the old man in front of him would be.

Not provoked by the sentence indirectly accusing Flint, who was a family of black wizards, of being one of the alleged Death Eaters in front of the council, Gideon did not flinch or put on a look of doubt. Instead, he said loudly to Madam Bones, "Asking for time to refute as a Heir Potter Protection rights holder."

Before madam Bones spoke up, Dumbledore cut in, "Ah! Of course we can't believe in the news without evidence from the Daily Prophet either, can we?" the old man smiled with his eyes flashing.

"I assure you, Dumbledore. If not only The Daily Prohpet can prove that it is real, but also Gringotts." The smile faded a little from the old man. Gideon looked towards the Wizengamot council. "With the oldest protective magic in the wizarding world, with Merlin himself giving his magic a breath and the rights that every flint heir has, the Miles Antiquis Protector is stronger than the Blood Armor! If the board asks for evidence, then Gringotts himself can prove it," instantly a roll of contracts floated over his palm, "Of course this is just a duplicate, you guys can verify it yourself to Gringotts," the duplicate contract floated to Madam Bones. Gideon had never felt more satisfied than this when he saw Dumbledore's expression.

Madam Bones said with her eyes still on the contract sheet, "This contract is Valid," there was an exclamation of admiration and shock, even at the white wizards. Merlin's impact is still as strong for any wizard. But still some of Dumbledore's supporters, mostly from the White Wizard circles stood up while expressing disapproval. One of them was lord Abbott. "Surely we didn't let Gringotts deceive us, did we? They are Goblins and shouldn't be involved with wizard affairs." Of course, that's a weak argument, because anyone knows Goblin never messes around, let alone when it comes to contracts written under his protection. If there is a third party that is completely impartial except for the facts, then goblins are. But of course lord Gideon did not refute it with just an argument, because he knew that Dumbledore's henchmen must have urged them to this extent.

The man chimed at Marcus who came forward without hesitation. He flicked his wand, making his top vanish and turned to face his bare back on wizengamot's council. There was a sound of gasps and exclamations of surprise, as merlinus Miles' runes were vividly shown; a symbol self-marked by Merlin's magic. "If this is not enough evidence, then I have the right to question where your beliefs are? On Dumbledore? Or Merlin?" Lord Gideon held back a smirk, putting on his stiff face to mask the sense of satisfaction as most purebloods do.

Lord Abbott sat down embarrassedly again, and Madam Bones again took over, "The custody of mr. Potter remains in the hands of Lord Gideon Marcus, those who disagree please raise their hands." There were only a few wands that were pointed out, even among the White Witches. The woman he tapped his hammer. "It was stipulated at the Wizengamot meeting this time that the custody of mr. Potter remains in the hands of lord Flint, in this case Heir Marcus as the Knight merlin. So mote it be!"

"So mote it be!" they exclaimed at the same time. Dumbledore squinted his eyes, but no one noticed that missing was already the charm of the grandfathers that usually seemed to be. With a brisk pace, he left with his colorful robe that always gave Marcus a headache.

Without turning his head, his father said to the tip of his lips, "Be careful. I'm sure now his eyes will be watching you." Marcus nodded.

They parted ways with lord Nott at the fireplace after thanking lord Greengrass for giving them the information of the meeting's whereabouts. Dumbledore seemed to think that the neutral group was more partial to him, when as he was called, neutral was neutral. Especially with Merlin himself supporting them, he believes that many magical noble families have put their trust in the Flint family, regardless of the color of the magic. An in-depth review of the Daily Prophet's article about the Flint family also helped a lot to remind the magic community of his family's honor.

"We're parting ways here," his father said, knowing Marcus would stop by Diagon Alley. Marcus nodded. "Be careful."

"I try." Marcus walked into the rotating fireplace before stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron fireplace. Many people sighed when they saw him, and stared twice at the symbol on his formal robe. These wizards didn't even shyly poke their heads like a nod just to look at it, even from the windows. Forgetting who they were dealing with. The little ones waddled and cried in fear when they saw his expression. Marcus without stopping a step, immediately walked into Madam Primpernelle's shop. There are glasses and birthday gifts that he must buy.

A few mills from there, a distance that those who are not wizards can't imagine, more precisely on the white castle of Flint, Harry Potter sits between books and old parchment. He squinted his eyes and pushed his glasses, as if it could help him see clearly. He pursues rare literature that he can't find at Hogwarts, other than you're old enough to get into the Forbidden Section. He was grateful to be able to find this, because all the literature on Fortune Tellers at Hogwarts was only limited to fortune-telling balls, tarot cards and pendulums. There's not much to expect from any of that unless you just want to do your homework.

Madam Bletchkey's melodious voice faintly sounded from the old radio in the background. Harry murmured, "Oracle which comes from latin meaning 'talk to'. This designation was originally intended for priests who could predict the future," while his fingertips moved on the sentences on the ancient texts. The yellowed paper was weathered on the periphery, even with magic protection. Harry needed tongs and gloves when flipping it. "In the Greeks, the Oracle was also called xρησμοί—khresme. Those with that ability never remember what prophecy they were talking about because their bodies were just the container where the god spoke. Interesting," Harry murmured, "I don't think Oracle is really a fortune teller. When their bodies are not used as a means of communication of gods, they are just like everyone else."

Harry guessed, rather than Oracle, his ability was more inclined to Seer. Because unlike the Oracle, Seer does not have direct contact with gods (or whom he believes to be lady fate). Seer interprets the vision given, reading the signs and premonitions. The two are similar, but have a considerable difference when those advantages are implemented into the real world. For example, Orcale's prophecies are usually verses that need to be reinterpreted. He was ambiguous until the incident happened. Meanwhile, Seer, although he can only see future pieces, the vision is filled with details and can explain when and where.

Harry brought his reading light closer, so that he could walk through the writing that had faded from the old parchment. Who would have thought, divination is a subject in the shade of dark art. Making it one of the many types of black magic legalized by the Ministry of Magic. Harry cupped his chin while pensive. Thinking of the magic theory he had learned; in the literature, it has never been said in the slightest that black magic is illegal magic. Only a warning at the danger of those who can't control it. And the evidence that Divination is a legal subject, suggests that what is labeled illegal is not due to the nature of magic itself. Just because of the Ministry's fear of something that cannot be controlled, powerful and breaks through normal limits. But what can we be called wizards if we think normally?

This means that black magic is not evil magic, just like white magic is not good magic. There is no good and evil to magic, just like what Merlin said. It's all a matter of balance and intention. That makes sense, Leviosa's spell can cause a much slower and painful death, such as dropping someone from the fifth floor. Whereas Avanda Kadavra can give painless death to those who are dying.

"You're still here, Harry?" lord Gideon stood at the door with the Wizengamot Robe draped over his arm.

"Sir. How was your trip?"

The man leaned his back in a smug manner on the sofa in front of Harry. "As usual when facing the Hungry Hyenas in the Ministry. Who would have thought that activating the Miles Antiquis Protector could make us this troublesome. It's fortunate that Marcus is old enough to be in control."

"Oh, I hope he's okay."

The man grinned, "I raised a predator, mr. Potter. Although I hope that he is not only smart intimidating, but also willing to spend his time here." Then the man nodded at his pile of parchment and books, "What are you reading?"

Harry lowered his gaze, while silently covering up the literature on Fortune Tellers, "Just a theory of magic, sir."

"Oh, try to show me what you got?"

"Ah... I just realized the role of the Ministry that is so controlling which magic can and cannot be learned. I'm so unsure that what the Ministry is prohibiting is really dangerous magic, or just their fear of the kind of black magic that is not easy to control."

"Well, mr. Potter, Harry, you have to understand that black magic is indeed really dangerous, that is the reason for the Ministry's fear. The nature of black magic is strength and balance. You can get anything if you dare to sacrifice something equal. In some parts, it is enough to sacrifice your blood, or more than that, like the sacrifice your mother made," the man nodded when he saw Harry's expression. "Unfortunately, not many people are born with a natural talent for dark art. Especially in the Ministry, where most of them are light-core owners who only limit their magic to white magic, without the desire to understand magic intact."

"Ah,'basic human nature is to fear the unknown'" on lord Gideon's curious expression, Harry grieved his shoulders, explaining, "Muggle term, sir."

The man nodded, "The Ministry's attitude of ostracizing black wizards, most of whom are from pureblood circles, makes us feel alienated in our own land. Even to the point of banning pagan practices and replacing them with Christian means, the faction that carried out the burning of witches and led to the international Statute of Secrey in 1689! Make the wizard retreat and hide himself from the muggles!" the man spoke very seriously, like not talking to a child. Something Harry really appreciated. Where adults usually just shake their hands and never really listen to them, Gideon Flint is far from all that. The man listened to her well, and considered her question no matter how stupid it was. This is one of the many things that drove out Harry's intellectual soul.

"It's only natural that purebloods are discriminatory toward muggle-borns—"

"Not really, mr. Potter," the man had a habit of calling his last name when he was serious, "Purebloods who really understand the old way, don't really hate muggle-borns. Muggle-borns after all are people endowed with lady magic. We just hate muggle lovers, whoever it is." Ah, because of that Weasley is called the blood traitor, Harry's inner. "If a muggle-born comes into the wizarding world, and truly learns the old ways well, then he will be as respected as any wizard. But instead, muggle-borns come like tourists; assumed that their worlds were the same, their traditions were the same, even being arrogant at the more stagnant development of the wizarding world," the man leaned in his body while clasping his hands, "As long as you know, Harry. We wizards born in the magic community, do not care about the development of trends or technology because the most important thing in all aspects of life is magic. What does the fashion of dressing, or lights and telephones, mean compared to the development of Potkey, protective magic and dragon santuary? But the muggle-borns misinterpreted it and sought to transform this old community with muggle-style ordinances. Without understanding what an old tradition is, like Yule and changing it to Christmas."

Harry shook his head, "Even Hogwarts itself celebrates Christmas. What is Yule?"

The man shook his head. "Yes and no. Hogwarts does celebrate christmas; what's wrong with exchanging gifts? But what you don't know, Harry. On December 22, the pagans at Hogwarts celebrated Yule. It's not something that's forbidden, but it's not what's being talked about out loud," the man continued without stopping.

"Why?" interrupted Harry, too excited to notice. But Gideon just raised an eyebrow and replied, "Well, the Ministry doesn't want to scare muggle-borns. Most of them are Christians who view our beliefs as a wrong ritual."

"But, shouldn't the Ministry side with its own traditions? Making muggle-borns aware of wizard traditions. Like providing books..."

"That's right. But you have to know, Harry. Ministries are dominated by muggle Pros, who have lost knowledge of the meaning of—as they say—pureblood traditions. The wars of the last few decades between dark lords and light lords are one of the triggers. Because most of the followers of the dark lord are purebloods, the white wizards consider those who follow this tradition to be followers of the dark lord. This is a Prejudice that in this decade is common in the wizarding world." Harry nodded. Realizing the magnitude of that Prejudice at Hogwarts as seen from the behavior of other house boys in Slytherins who were inhabited by Pureblood on average.

The man continued without pause, "Moreover, they assume muggle-borns are proof that Wizards can coexist with muggles. The Ministry's policy is to be careful with these new people. Makes us celebrate christmas in exchange for Yule, without being offset by education about witch traditions, so that these new people understand. Again because of the Ministry's fear that muggle-borns mistaken this tradition because it was incompatible with Christian teachings," he rubbed his chin as he murmured, "Whereas this tradition keeps magic afloat."

Harry stared in confusion.

Gideon grinned, "Answering your question about Yule; it is not only a pagan ritual as it is considered muggle. It is one of the many things that keep magic afloat in this world. The less one celebrates, the weaker the magic is made," he conjureed a glass of water and drank it one sip, before continuing, "Yule or Yuleyide is a ritual that gives a balance between witches and magic on earth commonly called Le Fay Line; a tradition that also strengthens protection at home, increases the magic that is still developing in children, and there are many other things that muggle lovers have forgotten along with the influx of christian traditions brought by muggle-borns," the man smiled, "That is also why muggle-borns may be stronger because they are endowed with new magic, yet purebloods have rare privileges such as Metamorphus, Necromancy or Seer." Gideon's gaze made Harry swallow hard, "Pureblood has old blood, which is balanced in the rituals of Yule or Samhain, ah which you also commonly call Halloween. Yes, Harry, Halloween is the same as many other Christian celebrations, inspired by pagan religions. It's only natural that the new religion adopts the old religion to be easily accepted, right?"

"Um..." Harry smiled slightly, "So the Halloween celebration is more of a display of pumpkins, costumes and sweets?"

The man laughed loudly, "Of course! Just like in muggle religions, Halloween is also used to honor the spirits of the dead. But for us, witches, it's more than that. When Samhain, we communicate with Death."

"Oh..." Harry swallowed.

Gideon nodded, "I suggest you read a book on Witch Traditions and Beliefs by Kennilworthy Thicknesse. I think there's a book around here... Ah! here it is," the man handed the book, surprisingly, not so thick, with a leather cover that looked relatively new compared to the others.

At the same time Marcus entered in his formal robe symbolizing the house of Flint, side by side with the Black Phoenix, which indicates he was a Merlinus Miles—Merlin's knight. Harry guessed he must have made an outstanding debut in the Ministry in that outfit. With a body like the one he has, plus the cloak, no one dares to mess with him, even if he is quite young.

"Harry, mommy is waiting for us. Apparently your order at Twilfit Tatting has come," he said as he took off Harry's glasses and replaced them with new ones. "I bet Dursley never bought you the right glasses. The lenses on these glasses can adjust what your eyes need.

Harry blinked his eyes for a while, and looked around him in amazement. Even with his old glasses, he has never seen so clear. "Wow... I never knew that we could buy glasses in the wizarding world, I thought all the problems were solved with potions."

Marcus rolled his eyeballs, "Then you think where Dumbledore and Mcgonagal's glasses came from?" Harry flushed, making Marcus flick his nose. "Potions can also treat it, but they are not permanent and the ingredients are too expensive and only a Potion master can afford to mix them."

Harry leaned in, so that Marcus moved away. "Wow..." she whispered. The young man raised his eyebrows. "I never realized you had a mole on your chin," Marcus pushed Harry's forehead. But that didn't stop him from moving closer and closer. "Wow, I can see your scars more clearly. What is a scar during a magic duel?" Harry's fingertips moved along the silver line extending from his temple to his chin bone, making the young man of the type like being electrified.

"Sword," he replied shortly as he caught Harry's wrist, "Don't you want to know how you look?" Marcus conjureed a handheld mirror.

"Wow..." The glasses were not round like his old glasses. The glass is oval with a silver fringe and a golden handle. The glasses further accentuated the color of his emerald eyes and made them appear bigger. "Trims, Marcus," without thinking, stood on tiptoe and landed a peck on his cheek. Marcus's gasping sound made him realize his lips were lingering and suddenly moved backwards with wide-eyed eyes. He blushed violently because there was no such randomness as a cut or scratch that made him peck his cheek. Marcsus's expression was still as flat as ever, but his black pupils darkened and he looked at Harry in a way that made him uneasy.

"Ahem... hasn't Harry been awaited by your mother, Marcus?" said lord Gideon as he looked at one of the book's covers as if it were very interesting.

Marcus blinked his eyes, "Yes, yes, come on Harry." Without thinking pulled Harry in a sling, leaving lord Gideon with his hands covering his mouth and trembling back. Fortunately the door had been closed for a long time when the lord could no longer hold back his laughter and his amusement sounded to the point of shocking the House elves. The house elves ran around in panic, collided with each other, dropped trays and hit a vase, thinking the lord had been used with a Laughing Charm or a Carefree potion.

Marcus led Harry into the room with the fireplace burning. Lady Sharon was already waiting for them along with boxes of Twilfit Tatting store clothing orders; a high-end clothing store in Diagon Alley. Actually Harry wasn't a materialistic person, especially with his old lifestyle in Dusley. But lady Sharon assured Harry that he needed to dress as appropriate as he was. And the clothes of Madam Malkin—even if it is a good shop—are not enough for the image of a nobleman. yes, he listened to about 30 minutes of lectures about being actually a Slytherin.

"Harry," the lady exclaimed excitedly, like most women when faced with the word 'shopping'. "Try this robe." Harry picked up the capes—the kind of short-cut sleeveless robes—that the lady proffered. Of course, as a person who now lives with the noble family of Flint, he does not need to come directly to the store. The owner, Arcturus Kneen, came up with a pile of catalogs that could be ordered easily, without them needing to say Floo powder. Even personally delivered the order. He imagined how Draco ordered his clothes. It must not be enough like this, but there is also a model in charge of demonstrating his clothes.

"Wow, what is a Hogwarts uniform?" Harry gently touched the neatly cut uniform, made of silk, even looking more expensive than the one Malfoy was wearing.

"Now your clothes can match your new glasses."

Harry blushed, "Marcus bought it for him." The woman exclaimed excitedly while pinching her cheek. Who would have thought that he originally thought this woman was cold. But after thinking about it, he couldn't imagine if the couple of the lord Flint were equally cold. It won't make the marriage work. But it is undeniable that she is a Flint woman, because she has a more terrifying side than Marcus when she is emotional.

Harry turned to Marcus who was sitting with his arms on the couch and legs wide-wielding most of the couch. Looked relaxed and didn't care. Harry circled in front of him to show his uniform. "You look good," the young man commented with a fiery look.

The Lady scolded Marcus, "Not only does he look good, dear! Take a look," the woman twisted him, making him laugh as his cloak flew around him. "Isn't he really cute," he pinched Harry's cheek again. Marcus saved her from torment by pulling her into his lap. It automatically made him lie on most of Marcus's thighs, making the corners of his legs float in the air, not touching the floor.

"He looks more perfect when he sits here," she said in a lazy tone, her fingers playing with the ends of Harry's now much longer hair. Harry could only blush, sitting with his back straight; couldn't be as relaxed as usual under lady Sharon's amused gaze.

"Oh, dear," the woman laughed. Harry attempted to squirm down, but Marcus's arm moved to lock his waist and pull him so that his back pressed against Marcus's chest. I don't know why Harry felt sultry. He squirmed as he felt Marcus' nose pressed gently against his ear and moved down to the side of his neck, until it ended up in the nape of his neck. He could feel his breath there and make his mind foggy. A shadow of the future infiltrated his mind, exactly what Marcus was doing now. Only he seemed more mature. It doesn't look like Marcus is going to break that habit anytime soon. "Oh, dear. Take a look at these clothes. I always wished I could put this on Marcus when he was a kid. But he was too tall and masculine for his peers," Lady Sharon lifted a piece of cream-colored androgynous shirt with lace trimmings on some parts. He didn't seem to care about Marcus who was busy, nor Harry who was scarlet. The woman was busy taking out all the clothes from the boxes wrapped in a gift-like look.

Speaking of gifts. He got more birthday gifts than he can remember this year. On July 31, as he stepped down from his room rubbing his eyes and not remembering that it was an important day, the three Flints called for a happy birthday with a cake floating close to him following Misty, ready to be blown. They didn't make a dance party like Malfoy's birthday, but a simple meal with a tart that read Happy Birthday, Harry, with the correct letters, unlike Hagrid's cake. Harry couldn't help but shed tears as he hugged the three Flints, even at the awkwardly and confused lord Gideon putting his hand where (the hand ended up at the top of his head, rubbing it gently). Gifts from his companions piled up high, not overturned because of magic. More than Dudley's gift, but Harry didn't want to count it. But there is nothing more valuable than the gifts of the three Flints.

Lady Sharon presented him with a pair of exquisitely light blue flat shoes, "the other time stuff is gone," the lady whispered, winking. Lord Gideon gave him an amulet with a golden-flashing protection rune as he breathed magic in it. But his favorite was a gift from Marcus, in the form of a dark blue, almost black Panther doll with his black eyes reminiscent of Harry of Marcus. He gave the doll the name Phantom. Soon he hugged her and buried his face in her soft fur which was warm with magic. "Hope it can keep you from nightmares," the young man said, patting the top of Harry's head. Since then, Phantom has never been separated from him, not even to the bathroom (House elves give Phantom a special seat when accompanying him to take a shower).

Harry was really happy with what he was celebrating his first birthday, making all three Flints freeze. They asked how her birthday had been all along, to which she replied embarrassedly that Dusley usually gave her used socks or hangers. The words made lady Sharon hug him very tightly and both Flint men looked like they wanted to chew something. But Lady Sharon's fiery gaze was more frightening than Voldemort's as he hissed, "They'll take a lesson," Harry never knew teeth could graze like that.

Phantom helped him sleep better. Harry is now no longer easily cold because the Phantom was bewitched to keep warm. He also helps when Marcus has to travel far. Even if he now lives under the same roof with Marcus, it does not mean that they are together more often. Because compared to Hogwarts, the young man has more responsibility here. Marcus, who usually rarely wakes up early, could have disappeared with lord Flint when Harry woke up. Leaving him alone on the already cold bed. Or go home just at dinner. So, it's no surprise that Harry spent a lot of his time in the library while lady Sharon was visiting her friends' homes. Even during the summer vacation like this! Perhaps it was because Marcus was old enough to be given the responsibility. Had lord Flint been dead, Marcus would have been old enough to be able to take over his title.

Harry, who was still twelve years old, did not study with a Master like Marcus did. Lord and lady Flint did not care about Marcus' importance he mastered certain skills such as; dark art, swordsmanship or poison. No wonder the value of the potion is poor, if the ability is only limited to poison. Apparently the Flint family has a different standard from most purebloods. They are not that strict on manners, dance parties or trivial things related to tea parties. But it's more about the traditional skill of a wizard who is not only able to survive in combat, but also extraordinary. This took up most of Marcus' time.

Then, it is not difficult to look for him when he is not in the Ministry of Magic. If it weren't in the stables of the horse, then Marcus must be fighting with a duel puppet in the practice room. But apparently it was not the duel puppet who is now his opponent, but the Slytherin Beater, Peregrine Derrick, who should have graduated at the end of June yesterday. And they dueled using swords!

The sound of an iron clandestine pitted filled the room as the two quidditch athletes moved as if they were dancing in an arena. Flashing sweat ran down their bare backs, while swords were bolted and legs jumped dodging. Both of them revealed equally numerous muscles and scars. But according to Harry, Marcus looked fierce with a Miles Antiquis Protector rune tattoo adorning his back. The tattoo is pentagram-shaped; is a whole circle with a rune interweaving within it. Something Marcus showed proudly every time there was an opportunity. Which of course also made him often shirtless, instead of Harry protesting.

Harry gasped as the sharp object wrenched Marcus's arm, shocked to think there was protection magic in their brutal fight. but as if not caring about the wound, Marcus parryed it back and retaliated against it with a stronger blow. Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to turn a blind eye to, because this fight was not only brutal, but also beautiful.

Harry's face was already ashen, as the fight finally ended with Marcus kicking Derrick's heel, making him lose his balance. Then swung his sword with extraordinary control, so that the cold iron was gently attached to his enemy's neck, without hurting him. Derrick swallowed hard and made a gesture of surrender. Then they, with a trained gesture, jumped up to make a distance and retracted their swords, before finally saluting each other, ending the fight.

Only then did Harry dare to approach, "You're bleeding!" Marcus jumped in at his voice.

"Harry," his lips twitched looking at Harry who was around him in a panic. "Your wound. Wound!" the boy exclaimed in a panic. Easily Marcus shook his hand and made all his wounds heal.

Harry blinked while nga. It knows if Marcus is a very powerful wizard. But healing magic is the material for the N.W.E.T exam for the seventh year and he did it without a wand?! Really, he bet Marcus didn't pass the test just because of overslept during the test! If only he had faced a test like he had faced a quidditch match.

Harry picked up the towel lying on the back of the chair and helped Marcus wipe his sweat and residual blood. Harry's hand could only reach his shoulder, even because he was on tiptoe. Marcus ducked slightly and infiltrated his arm against Harry's waist and lifted him up in a sling, making him scream, "SWEAT, EWW!" which was reciprocated by the laughter of the two senior students. "Why don't you wear protective magic?" asked Harry, rubbing irritably the wayward dry blood on his shoulder. Marcus let the boy do as he pleased, even though he knew there was a spell for it. He was busy rubbing as much of his sweat on Harry's cheek which made him get a towel blow.

Derrick, who from the outset observed Harry comfortably in a sling with the Phantom in his arms, replied, "Because it won't help us during the real fight, Potter. We have to get used to the pain to make this exercise more effective."

"Oh," Harry inched away like he wanted to hide from Derrick's gaze.

But Marcus instead corrected his sling, making him face his friend. Harry made Phantom cover his face, "Harry, introduce, Derrick. Derrick, Harry."

Derrick rolled his eyeballs. "I know him, Marcus. We are both Slytherin anyway." Then he made a short gesture while whispering, "Well, it seems that it's time for me to say goodbye. I've promised my dad to help him hide all the relics of the black magic before the Ministry searches the house," then to Harry he said with a grin, "You're not going to report me, are you?"

Casting an offended look, Harry asked, "what's wrong with the Ministry?"

"Ordinary inspections, after several groups of white wizards reported their suspicions, the Ministry is now searching the houses of black wizards," he said with a shrug.

"Uh, does Draco already know?"

"Malfoy, huh?" the young man pulled his head over, "I know because my father works in the Ministry, but isn't Malfoy close enough to Fudge?" he asked Marcus, who was only reciprocated with indignity.

"Are you going to hide it in Gringotts?"

"For Salazar's sake, no! The place is being watched. If you're lucky and make it through the front door without the Ministry knowing what you're carrying, maybe it could be. But we're not hiding one or two things, you know?"

"Then where did you hide it?"

"If that is, mr. Potter," he grinned dangerously, "is a secret."

"If you were, Marcus?"

"From the beginning Flint didn't let that kind of thing lie randomly, let alone in the house," to which Derrick greeted with a Uch voice while clutching his chest, making Harry churn.

On a sunny day in warm August, for the first time Marcus took Harry for a walk out of the Manor. He still wears official clothes like a pureblood, but takes off his wizard robe. At first, Harry thought it was because of the warm summer. But so surprised him when they ended up not on a wizard settlement, but rather a muggle; in the form of remote rural areas whose inhabitants are mostly still farming. Flint Manor looked towering high when viewed from the sloping streets that led them to the residential area. Several wheat chariots and milk delivery bicycles passed by. People stared at them, more because of Harry being in a sling, rather than seemingly surprised at their existence, suggesting this was not Marcus's first adventure across this area. They cast curious eyes, but not harassing. Even some of them ducked politely as they crossed paths while muttering, "Young lord."

Marcus explained to Harry who was surprised, "Flint Manor was here long before this settlement existed. Flint's ancestors used this as a very useful camouflage in the days of the dark lord's awakening. No one thought the pureblood residence was in the middle of muggles. Just like Black did. So as to make Flint Manor one of the few places that can be said to be completely safe. Those muggles consider us 'old rich people'."

"They have never been curious about the manor?"

"There is anti-muggle magic along the border, so no. They will be diverted when they want to do something."

Apparently Marcus took her to watch the summer festival. There are many food bazaars and music played. Some tractors carrying grain are used by vehicles to enter barns decorated like haunted houses. Harry was excited to see the festivities because it was the first time for him to feel the atmosphere of the festival.

"I never thought Flint could live in the midst of muggles," Harry commented. "Make no mistake, I know you don't hate muggles, at least you tolerate Hermione. But I know you also avoid muggles as much as possible. So, why?"

Marcus smiled secretly, amazed by Harry's prespective that was not common to children his age, "Why? right too." the young man corrected his sling, so that their heads were aligned. The man said to Harry's ear, making a gesture at the muggles who were joking in the middle of their celebration, "Because of Harry, they are muggles who still adhere to the old tradition. You think what are they doing now? They are celebrating Lughnasadh! One of the celebrations that is part of the summer solstice. Harvest celebrations. The same tradition I also adhere to. You think I don't want to get involved? I'd also like to celebrate something that I think is important, even in case the Ministry bans it—ah, well, replace it with a dance party. But it is not the same without a bonfire or most importantly a crop. After all, there will be no Ministry people to disturb."

Harry's mouth formed an O.

"If they weren't adherents of this tradition, we might have burned down this settlement," he added in a bloodthirsty tone that led Harry to hit the top of his head, throwing a look that said, 'please stop expecting bloodshed'. Which only made Marcus' grin even wider.

They walked into one of the pubs where many families had gathered. On the stage the female singer hummed a song that apparently wasn't as loud as Harry's ear would have if he saw a lot of mouths following him. The bartender greeted them warmly, "Happy Harvest day. Merry meet."

Marcus nodded, "Merry meet," Harry looked in amazement at the ancient greetings exchanged. He thought only wizards knew, but apparently muggles also before the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy separated them.

"Ale, my lord? And you young lord, ginger beer?" he asked with a smile and leaned towards Harry because of the high bar table. "Yes, please," he said with a big smile. Ginger beer is not really beer even though the name is like that. So called children's drink, made from ginger, burdok and dandeleon, also a little cider. One of the healthy drinks that many find in traditional cafes. They spent time there until the contents of their glasses were gone. Feeling calm at a gaze that is not so vociferous, different when in the wizarding world. Here the people do have curiosity, but they only know Marcus as the son of the owner of the manor. Not an ordinary person, but it is not extraordinary either.

Harry was watching the dance between the campfires as his eyes looked at the flying crow, suddenly he felt something was wrong. It grabbed phantom and stood up. "Harry? Harry?" Marcus exclaimed as his steps didn't stop, instead accelerating. He ran away from the festival, splitting an empty cornfield, heading towards the lip of the forest. Marcus chased after him and lifted him up in a sling. The young man observed Harry's expression still staring expectantly at the direction of the forest.

"You want to go there?"

Harry nodded.

Without saying much Marcus took them there, following Harry's lead into the mysterious dense forest.

They didn't stop. Harry followed the pull, which was getting longer, stronger. Until they stopped right on the edge of the recess with the ground still red from the landslide. Below, a long blond little girl, sitting holding her legs. "Are you okay?" exclaimed Marcus, making the blue eyes look up.

"It seems that I broke my leg," the girl pulled her head over, not looking worried at all, "I didn't realize that I had walked very far from home while following Wrackpurt."

"Wrackpurt?"

"yes, a creature that can't be seen with ordinary eyes," he pulled his odd glasses, showing them to Harry. "He often showed me something. I'm sure you see in another form with your glasses, because it's a different shape anyway."

Harry winked, "You're not anxious."

The girl shook her head, "Bilbbering Humdinger whispered in my ear if I'd be fine."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be fine after I take you out of there, miss Lovegood," Marcus said as he put Harry down and moved down on the unstable ground, trying to reach the girl. "I don't want to use magic, perhaps it affects your wounds," Marcus knows that Luna Lovegood has a sensitivity to magic, and usually children born like that have different reactions to certain magic, especially when injured. The girl wrapped her arms around Marcus's neck which brought them back up.

"Hi," Harry greeted. "What's your name. I'm Harry."

"Luna. Are you a Hogwarts student? I'm going to start school this year."

"yes. This year is my second year."

"Hm..." the girl mumbled with a huddled face, identical to Harry every time he started acting strangely. "Ah, that's my dad," she said towards the empty air that made Marcus blink in confusion. But Harry didn't seem surprised or feel strange. The three of them just stood up like they were waiting, until there was a screaming sound.

"Here, mr Lovegood!" exclaimed Harry.

"Luna?!" the long white-haired man in an eccentric dress ran towards them and took Luna over in his arms. At the sight of Marcus, the man wide-eyed and took a step back. Luna patted her father on the shoulder soothingly, "It's okay, well. Harry and Marcus have helped me," it made his eyes widen even wider. Before the man ducked his head while saying thank you which Marcus easily rebutted with a wave of the hand. "I owe you a favor, mr. Flint. I know you're a good boy. Don't believe a lot of people's talk," the comment instead seemed like it offended Marcus. As the two left and disappeared from behind the trees, Marcus stared at him fiercely. "I have an image I need to defend, you know?"

Harry grinned, "Good boy is also image."

"It's an insult!" Marcus hit the top of his head gently.

Marcus takes them in a vortex of Apparated, back to the Festival. They visited the food stalls. Where the seller gave rolls and biscuits for free to the young lord. You sweet tooth, Harry accepted all that shamelessly, devouring it with pleasure. Harry laughed all the way down the haunted house, screaming hysterically at the corpse doll that suddenly appeared and hiding in the arms of Marcus who was putting on a flat face until his ghost slowly stepped back. The night ended in a fireworks celebration ignited in the middle of the field where the bonfire was incandescent. The colors of fire squirmed between darkness and shadow, played with by the wind. The two sat in the middle of muggles dancing and sharing kisses between campfires. Harry was churned as Marcus comforted him with colorful incandescent from the tip of his wand, making him dance around Harry. No muggle noticed that, or probably thought it was fireworks.

Perhaps because Harry was in euphoria, or maybe just because of his impulsiveness alone, he moved to hug Marcus, wrapping his arms around the young man's neck. They stared at each other in silence before Harry whispered, "Trims, Marcus," he bit his lip in doubt, then pecked his cheek. If Harry's cheeks were flushed, it might be because of embarrassment or the reflection of the bonfire. While Marcus froze, his tongue was out, like his brain couldn't process. The sound of fireworks sounded in the background. "Harry..."

"If it weren't for you, I would never have been able to experience this. I may still be rolling in that room, waiting until..." his voice disappeared as he felt his body being pulled tighter and tighter, so Harry could feel the heat of Marcus' body.

His dark eyes were burning, like being hit by the reflection of a campfire, had Harry not seen the flash of determination there. He pulled Harry's chin so that their faces were aligned, and what surprised Harry even more was when he landed a peck at the end of his lips, "Sure. Even without miles Antiquis Protector, I will always protect you. It's just proof that I was destined to protect you, but without it..."with soul, body and magic, Marcus whispered silently in his heart. "I will still protect you."

Harry blinked his eyes. Feeling the weight of the remark. If only Marcus knew exactly what he had said. After all, in any dormitory in case he is located, as long as he does not enter Gryffindor, the same destiny as it is now will still roll. Harry smiled and leaned his head back against Marcus's shoulder, where the young man's arm was unhesitatingly wrapped around his waist securely. All of that was done with purity, without lust, because Marcus knew Harry would be ready in time. But not now. "After all, you have grown in my heart like grass, it is really hard to pull out." Harry hit him hard. They came home when Harry was already asleep in a sling. As if not caring about the world as long as he is in a safe embrace that always keeps him from danger.

At the end of August, Hogwarts' letter came along with a list of what books to buy. Marcus didn't seem excited because they had to end the holiday. But also can't wait to be able to compete in quidditch soon. Harry could only shake his head at the reverse priority the late year's child had. This also reminded him of the prospect of no longer being able to be with Marcus next year, in case the young man passed the exam this year. Made him a little bit—harry didn't want to admit it—sticking to Marcus more than usual (instead of Marcus protesting). If you imagined staying would bore him and reduce his protective attitude, then you're so wrong. The young man was much more demanding and never took Harry out of sight. Had Harry been an ordinary child, he might have cried in fear. But Harry just enjoyed that. No one has ever noticed him as much as Marcus, after all he is starved. So all of that is a win-win.

Only Marcus accompanied him shopping for school supplies, because he was old enough to do that. They were in front of the fireplace as Marcus said, "You've already done this, but I remind you again, tell me clearly. Diagon Alley. Understand?" Harry nodded. Inching nervously because of his hunch that something was about to happen, and remembering who he was... Well... uh... Marcus entered into the fireplace. "I'll do it first so I can catch you when you get ejected out. DIAGON ALLEY!"

Harry bit his lip before stepping inside. Sharon waved at him. "Until later, son," Gideon said, nodding. Then Harry shouted. "Diagonally."

"Oh!"

"Did I hear him say diagonally?"

Harry slid along with the dust and ashes that made his whole body dark. He coughed violently. Still disoriented, Harry looked at the dirty ceiling in confusion. This is not a Leaky Couldron fireplace. Slowly he got up and looked at the dark shops around him. The Bookshelf with a heavy dark aura was side by side with a shelf filled with strange items that made her hunch refuse to approach him. He went down a dark passage, moving in the direction of light coming from which signaled a way out. Shelves with strange things stood around him with a musty smell and mold. He moved slowly as he watched from the cracks of those shelves, at a man at the counter who looked disgusting, arguing with the blond man who clearly told him that he was lord Malfoy. Harry didn't expect that a Malfoy would come to a place like this, while they usually made a fuss when there was a little dirt hitting his expensive and luxurious robe.

His steps stopped when he heard the conversation between the two. Apparently lord Malfoy was negotiating about the price of a dark relic, without reaching an agreement. Harry knew this had something to do with the Ministry's inspection. The man tried hard to remove traces of dangerous objects. It may even be something that the dark lord has. Because even though Malfoy proved to be not a Death Eater, but there were still many who doubted his statement that he was hit by the Imperius curse. He's a man who has never concealed his political position of hating muggles, after all. More than that, Marcus says, he's a cunning and insidious guy. How come? where his position and name were in doubt, he retained power in the Ministry with his position as Hogwarts' Board of Governors. If his vision is correct, and he doesn't doubt that because his vision never lies, then Malfoy sr. needs to be avoided. After all, her blonde hair is striking, despite wearing a mask. Death Eater Mask.

The blond man screamed angrily because his friend would not buy the goods he offered. Then galloped open the door, and chimed in with Marcus Flint. The two predators faced each other, their eyes sharply burning, before finally they moved side by side. Marcus was still grinding on the man until his figure was no longer visible.

"OH, young sir!" the cashier's guard exclaimed enthusiastically, 180° different from his previous attitude. "What made you come here?"

Marcus nodded in recognition of the man, "mr. Burgen." but his gaze wandered through the corner of the store. Harry felt the bracelet on his wrist warm up. That's when he just dared to come out of hiding. "Harry," Marcus moved towards him with a predatory stride. The movement of his hands cleaned his body and corrected his glasses. "You mispronounced the address," it made him blush. But Marcus didn't intend to embarrass him, instead holding Harry. Made the boy sigh resignedly and put his arms around his friend's neck. Sure Marcus wouldn't let go after this incident, "You know that guy."

"This is Borgin and Burkes."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"My mother's maiden name is Sharon Burke. My family is the founder and shareholder of this store." As soon as they came out, only then did Harry realize he was not in the unique alley of Diagon Alley. This place is dark and the brick walls are covered with soot. Posters of criminals are pasted there. The people walking here seemed to be ducking, hiding their faces with hoods and moving with a vigilant attitude. As if he saw a flash of red color and sharp teeth from the man who crossed paths with him. "This is where?" she whispered, tightening the hug.

"Knockturn Alley." That answer made Harry gasp. Marcus pushed Harry's face to his neck, hiding it. "Never go here alone." Not Harry's ideal, this place is full of scary people.

When they came to Diagon Alley, only then did Harry straighten his back and look around. No matter how many times he went to this place, he still couldn't get rid of his amazement. This alley is filled with life like a carnival! Especially now that there are not only wizards but also muggle-born families. Each person stopped and stared twice as Harry passed by. There are even those who do not hesitate to point, just like children of Harry's age staring shamelessly. Made him re-constricted.

But it's different from when he was with Hagrid. No one dared to approach Harry now. Even with his growing popularity, marcus's existence exuding danger made them shocked one step back. Even those who had been waiting while carrying parchment for signatures did not dare to approach! Humph, what is a reporter who turns around?

The muggle-born families who looked obvious because of their clothes, looked at the two curiously. The unusual figure of Marcus with his symbolized dark cloak, the sword around the waist, the comfortable Harry in his arms in a white robe that made his emerald eyes glow; all of that is shouting nobles! Especially when the purebloods whose titles are much lower or Vassals of Flint and Potter, begin to duck their heads as they pass by. Paying proper tribute to the descendants of Melin and Merlinus Miles. He heard one of the muggle-born parents ask, "Are they nobles?"

"I never knew there was a nobleman in the wizarding world," his son said. "Huh, isn't that Flint and Potter?" the purebloods around him looked angrily at him for daring to call them in brazen ways. made the child inch with red cheeks and cast a puzzled look at his friend who retorted, "Of course, stupid. How many years have you been in the wizarding world?" he scolded. "Although there is no king here, there are 28 nobles—Sacred 28 who are considered his successors. Flint is Merlinus Miles after all and Potter is a descendant of Merlin."

"What descendants?"

His friend sighed, "Remind me to give you the latest Daily Prophet."

When they reached Flourish and Blotts, they were amazed by the crowds there. The young ladies and more middle-aged ones, lined up to ask for autographs. A man stood with a puzzled look at the door, saying, "Relax, mothers, don't push around. Later the book was tabbed—" The female students squirmed, screamed and asked the man with blond hair for a photo waving with a dazzling smile. His outfit was in a striking blue and his voice gave Harry goosebumps. On the banner it says:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

Will sign his Autobiography

I'M THE MAGICAL ONE

today at 12.30-16.30

Marcus glanced at the pile of books with the man's photo on his side; Who am I?, Guide of Magical Pets. What a title that doesn't help the Hogwarts curriculum going forward. Harry and Marcus stared at each other. "He's the new Defense teacher?"

The young man just grieved his shoulders.

"Harry! Harry!" hermione's voice sounded as she ran over to them. Her big curly hair jumped up and down with her steps. Two adult men and women followed him out of breath. "Oh! I can't imagine we could meet him!" she exclaimed excitedly. Mr and ms Granger moved uncomfortably among the crowd. The two looked in surprise at Harry who was in the sling. Confused as to what it was also one of the ways wizards didn't know. Not far away, near the queue, the Weasleys looked prominent with their red hair. Following the excited-looking Ms. Weasley joined in the queue.

"We don't have to go with the mess, do we?" whispered Harry in horror.

Marcus sighed. "We're going to order it through owls."

At the same time there was a commotion. A short man with an annoying face moved around while taking pictures and accidentally stepped on Ron's feet. The child protested loudly which was met with arguments with daily Porphet reporters. It attracted the attention of Lockhart, who was sitting at the autograph table at the time. made the man aware of Harry's existence and exclaimed in surprise, "Impossible! You're Harry Potter." The man tried to pull Harry down to take a group photo, but Harry shook his head hard while holding Marcus. The man didn't appear to be aware of Marcus, until a loud bang blew the narcissistic man away and a flick of the wand once more, making the camera smoke. Marcus and Harry didn't turn their heads again when they left the place. Unaware of the fistfight between Mr. Weasley and lord Malfoy. The two decided they had been shopping at the wrong time!

September 1st. A date that young wizards have always been looking forward to, even by those who that year will face N.E.W.T. Who can resist when you can perform magic magic for a whole year without being frightened by the law of Underage Wizards. Even if it has to face a disgusting test.

All of Harry's luggage was bewitched safely in a suitcase that had been reduced and was now hanging around his neck. His uniform was bewitched in his trouser pouch, just like Marcus's, it could be picked up at any time. Now Harry wears a white shirt stuffed into black pants and a pair of loafers. No less stylish, with his smart look, Marcus wears an indigo shirt that highlights his broad shoulders and the curves of his arm muscles. The same arm on which Harry comfortably leaned in a sling. It may be that many people don't like Marcus because of his nature, but no one disputes that he is very fit. And it was all just for Harry. made him look up arrogantly, which made Marcus smile crookedly, knowing exactly what was in his mind.

Feeling unable to entrust the fireplace to Harry. They all agreed to apparated together. Lord and lady Flint. While Marcus was with Harry. The sensation of being squeezed and pressed hard like through a straw never made him get used to it. But at least now he's not vomiting. He leaned back without daring to move his head.

Harry stared towards the wall where the 9 3/4 platform sign was embedded. "Hm..."

"It's weird."

"What is it?" Marcus looked around.

"That platform. There have been no passers-by since just now."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Maybe apparated is more popular now?"

"But it's been a tradition for first-year kids to get through there."

"You're right. It's so weird."

"Huh, maybe Dobby."

"Malfoy's House Elf? Moreover, what the fairy did."

Harry shook his head, "You won't want to know."