Verus

September 1991, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England.

Tugging at the lapels of his coat, Lucius strode into the manor’s kitchen. It had been a hellishly long morning and they hadn’t even made it past noon yet, though he was rather thankful that he’d had the foresight to have taken the entire day off of work so that both he and Narcissa could see their son, Draco, off on the train to Hogwarts.

It was the boy’s first year- his first time away from home, really- and the blond had spent many days putting preparations into place so that Draco felt more at ease upon parting from them, especially with the events the last year had thrown at their family. But, it seemed that in doing so, Lucius had failed to remember his wife’s overall anxiety over losing their only child to the actual world.

The former Slytherin’s mouth quirked upwards in, what most would describe as, a fond smile when he caught sight of Narcissa staring out of one of the kitchen’s large open windows. It was the woman’s most favoured place within the manor, the room let in so much light and was more often than not devoid of all beings.

Lucius crossed the tiled floor quietly but, even in doing so, his wife didn’t startle when he placed a tender hand at the small of her back. No, instead the woman merely leaned further back into his embrace.

“I don’t believe that any owls will be showing up just yet, my love.” Lucius murmured as he pressed a sweet kiss to her temple.

Narcissa simply smirked and side eyed him in return as she looped her delicate fingers around the hand that had come to rest at her waist. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Draco is your son after all. He has a tendency for the dramatics and I am quite certain that he’ll be wanting to tell us all about this big adventure of his.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at her quip but he couldn’t hide the obvious love he held for the woman.

The witch smiled at him in amusement before she turned back to watching the window. The skies outside were bright and blue, blessed with no clouds in sight. The orchard sat to the far right, the branches of their famous Hawthorn trees stretched upwards and out, leaves evergreen. A few peacocks roamed the outskirts of the grounds, they always tended to favour the open fields rather than the budding garden filled with all of Narcissa’s favourite plants. Lucius hummed pleasantly to himself.

“Ooh! My apologies. Am I interrupting something?” Came a familiar mirth-filled voice.

Lucius had to keep from snarling at the smirking imp that was now stood in their kitchen’s entryway as he glared at him from over his shoulder. The other man paid it no heed, simply strolled in further upon knowing that he now held their attention and snickered joyfully to himself as he slid on over to the island. “Winky!” He sung merrily.

Lucius sighed quietly when Narcissa pulled away from his hold, just as the house-elf in question popped into the room. She was a rather dainty looking thing, with enormous brown eyes and a tomato shaped nose, Winky adjusted the mint coloured bonnet she wore religiously atop her head as she gazed up at her young master.

“You calls, Mr Barty?”

Bartemius, Lucius had come to quickly realise, had rather a soft spot for the small elf, he spent many of his nights hauled up in the manor with only her to keep him company and, funnily enough, together they seemed to share a lot of laughter. It was strange for him, to see a wizard so close with their servant but Lucius guessed that he couldn’t really blame the younger man for wanting some sort of stability in his life, not after everything Crouch’s wretched father had put him through during the years since the first war. The very thought had his upper lip curling.

It was just as Bartemius had begun to make his way through a long list of items he somehow required that Rabastan entered, his expression showed no signs of his usual humour and the man simply nodded curtly at them in greeting, which only meant one thing.

Lucius drew in a sharp breath when Walden Macnair breezed into the room right after him, but the familiar smug smile the executioner typically bored was solemn, his eyes eerily calculating and coloured a haunting blood red.

Both Lucius and Narcissa dipped their heads respectfully as the latter came to an abrupt halt in the centre of the room, Bartemius silenced almost immediately and set his sights upon the striking man, ticking just the once.

“My Lord.” Lucius greeted in a low tone, he gifted the executioner an appropriate smile as he stepped forward ever so slightly. “Are you in need of anything?”

Macnair’s eyes lingered on his form for an uncomfortable moment before the man huffed a light chuckle through his nose, ebbing away some of the tension that always seemed to follow him around.

“No, Lucius, I am perfectly fine at the moment. Thank you for your concern. I am merely here because I actually wished to discuss the matter of my Horcuxes with you all. Am I to believe that three of the five have since been collected?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Surprisingly, it was Bartemius who had spoken up, his large brown eyes trained on the other wizard. Winky had slunk behind him somewhat and was watching on with great caution, she still struggled to comprehend the vast differences between the Macnair that she had first met- the oversized oaf who showed no common courtesy even in the place of another- and the ever so powerful man that stood before them now.

Macnair’s possessed eyes grazed over towards the younger Crouch, they pinned him to the spot. Lucius met Rabstan’s gaze from across the room and the two of them shared a knowing look.

“And the remaining two; the cup, the locket?”

Crouch’s gaze darted away, towards Rabastan for a split second as he ticked, tongue wetting his lower lip. “No word as of yet, my Lord.”

Rabastan stepped forward then, drawing the powerful wizard’s attention. He had his hands tucked behind his back, clasped together, and his body bowed ever so slightly, a show of respect. “If I may, my Lord?” He spoke up.

A nod was gifted, permitting him to intervene.

“It is known that the vault in which holds the Hufflepuff Cup, still belonging to Bellatrix, will not open to anyone other than a blood-relative, and though I would be more than happy to retrieve it for you, my Lord, we are uncertain about how to go about entering the Bank’s premises.

“There is a relatively high chance that the Goblins will announce my presence to the Aurors, even if we do manage to bypass the entrance unnoticed, and the polyjuice potions I have been using for my trips into the local communities will only take me so far. We are not yet prepared, neither do we have the means, to storm the building either, not if we continue to want things to work in our favour.”

Their Lord levelled Lestrange with a conceding look, before he turned slowly to pointedly meet the rest of their eyes. “No, you are quite correct there, Rabastan- creating a scene will do us no good at this point in time. We must follow through on the premeditated plans that have been set into place. But, there is one thing you have so blatantly missed, my old friend. Although the Goblins have always had heir own laws they abide by and do not care much for the likes of witches and wizards, aside from controlling our economy, I think you three may have overlooked one minor matter.”

“And what would that be, my Lord?” Lestrange asked, his head dipped somewhat as he struggled to keep the strain out of his voice.

The answering wizard quirked his lip and the gesture could only have been described for what it was, a condescending smirk. He spun around on his heel, turning his back on Rabastan completely so that his sights were set on Narcissa.

“Lady Malfoy, would you be ever so willing to accompany me to Gringrott’s at a later date?”

Narcissa didn’t falter under the man’s stern gaze, nor did she move an inch, simply stood to her full height and acknowledged the question for what it truly was, a demand. “I would be happy to.”

The Lord hummed lowly in assent then looked again to Rabastan, “These potions of yours, tell me, why do they no longer suffice?”

The former Slytherin wet his lips, eyes flickering between their Lord and Narcissa as he thought over his reply then inclined his head once more.

“You must realise, I am not a skilled potioneer, my Lord, but I have been trying to create a more potent brew that will allow me to stay disguised for a much longer portion of time- though this still needs to be tested.” If Lucius didn’t know any better he would almost say Lestrange that looked nervous. “I know it is not my place, but if I am to speak erringly, now would be as good a time as any to bring Snape back into the fold. I could really do with his expertise on the subject.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.” Lucius quipped before he could think better of himself, he tried to act nonchalant in his speaking out of turn even as Narcissa’s sharp eyes jumped to burn holes into the side of his head. He sniffed once, posture tensed and poised, ever the aristocrat his father raised. “I apologise, I simply mean, Dumbledore will want to keep him close this year. The Potter boy’s return is imminent and he’ll want Severus on side to make sure that nothing goes awry.”

The entire room’s eyes were on him, it was the first time the unfortunate demise of their Lord had been mentioned so carelessly in conversation.

“I just-”

Lucius’ backtrack was promptly cut off with a simple raised hand, he swallowed thickly.

“No, no, you are quite right, Lucius. Besides, Snape has always been- well, how to put it quaintly- rather janus-faced. Do you not think?”

Crouch ultimately snorted, it seemed the years he’d spent under the imperious curse hadn’t diminished his fatuous nature, but that, as well as his muffled chortles, were eagerly ignored.

“Dumbledore has always had a few too many of his strings tied to Severus, and that truly is a shame.”

Lucius fought not to defend the man who’s integrity and ideals were being yet again questioned, the man he had named his son’s godfather, and instead offered up another notion. “I could speak with Severus, my Lord? Ask him as a favour to myself, he would be none the wiser of your… situation.”

Macnair’s head dipped just the once, “See to it then.”

It was just as the other man went to speak again that a shrilling pop erupted, completely dismantling the energy in the air and startling the contents of the room.

Lucius blinked a fair few times in utter disbelief at the scene which unfolded before him and then glanced over towards his wife, who looked just as perplexed as he felt, even through the expressionless mask she had long since mastered. Because now stood pacing, only a foot away, was an unfamiliar house-elf who was ranting haphazardly to itself and spouting words even his brutish father wouldn’t have faired to hear.

“Unnatural mut. The filthy, poisonous bloodtraitor! What would my Mistress say if she could see the horror- the havoc he has caused now? Oh, how she would scream!”

The old elf continued to spout another bout of vile words as it attempted to wear away at the manor’s marbled floors. It was an overly shrivelled thing, its skin both taught as well as wrinkled, ears as saggy as its drainpipe nose, and was hunched over as it wrung its skeletal fingers together.

Somehow, it had managed to bypass the manor’s wards, ripped right through them it seemed without so much as a care. Lucius knew the power needed for that.

As he struggled to find the words, the blond was caught, yet again, by surprise, because next to him Narcissa stepped towards the creature carefully, and it was she who finally broke the tense silence that had clouded the room upon the strange elf’s arrival with a rather confused whisper.

“Kreacher?”

—

10th century, Hogwarts Castle

They had started up again. The whispers.

Harry huffed unhappily to himself after another failed attempt to try and listen in. He had figured that with his newfound animagus abilities that his hearing might’ve improved enough so that he could eavesdrop a little easier- and it had, in some ways- but he was still adapting to all of the different changes that came along with adopting a wolf as an animagus.

At first, he had been forced to smell absolutely everything and anything within a five mile radius, which had been extremely overwhelming- in all sense of the word- and even with that, he’d then had to spend a few days cooped up in bed to keep his ears from ringing incessantly due to all the constant noise that always seemed to float throughout the castle. As large as it was, it was never quiet.

Then there had even been the unexpected growth spurt which had hit and hindered his muscles for a little over a week. Harry winced slightly at the reminder, he could still feel the familiar strain that lingered in the blades of his shoulders. He wasn’t all that excited to learn about whatever else was supposed to follow, but still couldn’t find it in himself to wish that he had waited a little longer or had been gifted another animal during the transformation. His wolf, although quite the overbearing character and independent in so many ways, was now a part of him. They shared a soul.

And although Harry struggled slightly to connect the two of them as one entire being, he knew now that things would even out soon enough. The wolf was spirited and also had instincts of its own, its own thoughts and claims, which it loved to act upon impulsively, leaving Harry to try and reign him in again and again. He had spent the majority of his day just trying to keep up with the animal.

When he had spoken to Sal of his fears of being unable to connect with the wolf within, like they were expected to, the older man had merely chuckled and assured him that once he was ready, he and his animagus would see eye to eye, or rather, mind to mind. Harry only hoped that that day came sooner rather than later, having complete control of his abilities would have been rather useful in a moment like this.

The boy quickly turned back to face his piece of parchment just as Salazar’s eyes darted over to him, he pretended to be finishing up the essay that had been set.

The older wizard was stood by the entrance to one of the left wing classrooms he tended to use during their Mind Magic lessons, it had only been a quarter of an hour since Godric had called him away to discuss an ‘important matter’. Harry guessed that it had to have been to have lured Sal away from his teachings. But that was all the insight Harry had been gifted.

With an inward sigh, he gripped his quill a little tighter. It had been hard enough being forced to watch on from the outskirts the first time around, when the whispers had traveled amongst the castle halls only a few years prior. But here they were again, and Harry was already growing tired of it.

All the sudden secrecy made him question the extremity of the situation though, recalling what he had learned the last time. He briefly wondered whether they would once again push back his arrival into the Wizarding World. He frowned and waved the thought away.

As he tried to listen to Sal and Ric mumble something or other that might have been considered an end to their conversation, Harry gritted his teeth and waited with a simmering frustration as Salazar stalked back into the room, without so much as a word offered to him.

Using all his strength, Harry powered through and completed his set work in complete silence.

Once he had finished, he made a right scene out of standing from his seat, dragging the chair out slowly enough that its metal legs scrapped along the hardwood floors. Sal’s dark leer caught his gaze from over the cycle of papers the man was currently shuffling through, and Harry could instantly tell that he wasn’t amused by the raucous that had been created.

The older wizard’s mouth was set into a firm line by the time Harry had stomped over to his desk, Sal raised an elegant brow when Harry handed over his essay without his usual care. Salazar stared at him for only a moment longer.

“Is there something bothering you, Harry?” Sal prompted in his typical drawl as he set the papers down amongst the others, eyes never straying.

With pursed lips, Harry met the man’s steely stare. “Perhaps.”

Salazar seemed to find his response somewhat amusing and snorted in retort, Harry silently scowled.

“Would you like to talk about it- this issue you have, Snakelet?”

The adolescent did, but he wasn’t about to admit to that fact. No, if everyone else was going to be keeping secrets then the rest of them could suffer through the torture of not knowing his too.

So with a certain flare for the dramatics, Harry spun around on his heel and wandered back over to his seat without another word said, he picked up the instruments he had used for that day’s lesson, as well as his carrier, and then looked back towards his seated teacher.

“Is that all for today’s teachings?”

Salazar’s eyes were trained on his every movement and the man blinked at him slowly, “It would seem so.”

Harry nodded curtly at his elder and before Sal could question his antics or draw him from his bubbling frustrations, he left.

He spent the rest of the day in a tightlipped silence, using only short clipped sentences when necessary and completing the workload that was set in record time. It didn’t take all that long for the founders to waylay him though- having noticed his slight attitude issue throughout the day. Come dinner time he had been lured into a false sense of comfort, surrounded by all of his favourite dishes, and that was the moment that they chose to strike.

“So,” Godric started once he was seated at the round table they often used for their small family suppers, he had just swallowed a tender piece of duck and had since set his sights on young Harry. The boy resolutely kept his own eyes on his dinner plate. “Rowena tells me that you passed your exam this afternoon with flying colours, little one.”

Harry shoved a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth to keep from outwardly answering but nodded all the same, he missed the quirked brow Godric gave in response as he continued to eat.

“And Helga also praised your work in her lesson. She claimed that you gave a beautiful demonstration on an otherwise ill-tempered kneazle.” Rowena added, to which the fair haired lady to her right hummed. But still Harry gave no verbal reply, merely flashed a forced smile up at the two without meeting either of their eyes.

Salazar, in a very un-Salazar-like fashion, actually huffed at Harry’s actions and threw the napkin he had just been using to dab at the corners of his mouth down onto the tabletop.

“Really, this is all becoming much too tiresome! Do inform us as to what has gotten your bloomers in such an unhappy bind. I cannot stand another minute of this pestering tension you have created.”

That, quite rightfully, captured Harry’s attention, his disbelieving eyes widened on their own accord as he spluttered in his chair and looked over at the wizard. Not once, not ever in the entirety of his short-lived life had he heard Salazar speak so tactlessly. Bloomers!

With his face flushed and mouth agape, Harry coughed lightly behind a closed fist in hopes to hide his sudden embarrassment. “Nothing’s the matter.” He lied, but Harry didn’t have to be witness to one of Sal’s famous eye rolls to have felt it.

Before the older wizard could speak again though, Helga intervened, she spoke with a certain timidity that ebbed some of Harry’s remaining frustration away. Still, he played with the food on his dinner plate whilst she interlocked her hands in her lap.

“I believe that we should all draw a necessary breath before we continue on, yes?”

Both Harry and Salazar grumbled under their breaths and their murmurs only grew more restless upon hearing Ric’s mirthful snort, to which the two of them flicked a mirrored glance upwards to glare at the greying redhead. Godric raised his hands in a show of retreat, but he still looked throughly amused.

“Right,” Helga begun and Harry was forced to meet her gaze, she smiled in appreciation. “Harry, it is quite clear to all of us here at this table that something is bothering you.”

“Merely stating the obvious there.” Salazar sniped under his breath but his face soured into an unhappy sneer when Helga’s attention divvied to him.

“We all only want to be of help, child. We hate seeing you so tense.”

“Some more so than others.” Godric murmured from behind a chalice of umber wine, Harry could only just make out the beginnings of his smile. Salazar’s upper lip curled in retort and Rowena sighed.

“You two are worse than a pair of wailing babes! Now, if you are both quite finished,” The dark haired witch sniped before she turned to face her friend. “Please, Helga, do go on.”

The other woman nodded her thanks. “Harry dear, is there anything that you would like to tell us? We cannot be of any help if we do not know how to resolve the issue at hand.”

Harry’s gaze wandered around the rest of the table, at all of their apprehensive faces, and groaned internally at how easily he felt his cards fold.

“You are free from judgement here, Harry.” Helga added, Harry figured that she must have mistaken his thoughtful silence for trepidation.

Ultimately, Harry gently shook his head and sighed as he carefully pushed the rest of his food away. Then looked up at them all, undeterred- he wouldn’t back down and would push for an answer even if they weren’t willing to give it yet.

“I want in.”

The others blinked, confused.

“I want to know everything that is happening out there.” Harry demanded as he gestured haphazardly over towards the nearest window, at the vast forests that surrounded the castle and the gloomy dusk that had since encompassed them.

“Last time, you all kept so many secrets from me, and perhaps it was for my own good, but I’m older now. I can handle this stuff. I need, no, I want to be prepared for whatever awaits me once I finally leave these walls! You can’t continue to shelter me, not now, not when I don’t know what lurks out there in my own world. What waits for me!”

A palpable silence settled over the dinner table upon the end of his speech, late eve pressed its wet muzzle against the window glass and allowed the lit candles surrounding them to cast an ambient hue throughout the expansive chamber.

Rowena stood from her chair after a moment and the noise it created finally broke the increased tension. She casted her way over to where a cart, sat to the side, was stationed by the nearest wall and helped herself- somewhat shakily- to a goblet of water. Godric cleared his throat as they all watched on, but made no actual move to speak.

It was, of course, Sal who took the initiative. The dark haired wizard was stilted in his movements as he turned in his chair to face Harry, odd compared to his typical languid gestures, but it captured Harry’s attention all the same.

“Harry.”

The young boy blinked upon hearing his given name. Sal never used it. Hadn’t in such a long time. Harry had almost forgotten what the syllables had sounded like all clumped together and falling from the man’s lips.

“This- what you ask of us… it is not an easy feat. You, you are so important. And not just to us, your family, Snakelet, but to a whole world of people you have yet to even meet.”

Salazar paused for a brief moment and took Harry’s much smaller hands in his as he did.

“I do not wish to hide the importance of what awaits you out there- it will do you no good- but you, in our eyes, are still a babe. So small, so precious. A child, who’s head is still full of so much wonder. So much potential. We do not want to take that from you just yet, you deserve better. The problems of the world laid before you are not your burdens to bare- even though some others may believe it so.”

Helga flashed the man a knowing look that Harry couldn’t quite make out, but Salazar paid her no mind. His grip tightened a fraction though when Harry’s eyes fell back upon him.

“What we have heard, has come from Merlin himself. You must understand that if you truly wish to understand what is going on. Merlin would not inform us of these things to stir up fruitless fantasies or idle tales. His word is sacred to me, it comes from the mouths of the fates themselves. From things he has witnessed, or has heard. I do not mean to scare you, my little Serpens, merely inform you of the severity of the matter at hand. Yes?”

Harry nodded.

The older man smiled. Harry always loved seeing him smile. It was a rarity only so few were gifted. But in this moment, he was unsure how to take it.

“Good.” Salazar breathed and pulled a hand away to squeeze the boy’s shoulder. “Do you still wish to know?”

Harry swallowed and allowed his gaze to skirt around the rest of the room. To where Godric was sat, straight-backed and stoic. To Helga, who’s eyes were only sympathetic, her face so full of love. To the corner where Rowena stood, watching him intently. She was upset, that much he could see, and that in itself was hard to witness, seeing someone so usually levelheaded look that unsettled. It truly did pain Harry to see her so unhappy. Still, he needed to know. To understand.

He cleared his throat.

“Yes, I still do.”

“Very well then.” Salazar retorted with a short intake of breath and a firm nod. Together the four founders and the boy spent the rest of the evening discussing what would soon await the adolescent, talking about the things Merlin had predicted and the insights the fates had gifted to them. Harry realised all too well just how much his life would change the day he finally stepped out of the safe-haven he called home.