Verus

1996, Hidden Location, Dorset (Flashback, Order meeting)

It was early. You could smell it in the dew that clung to the long grass as they strode their way on through it, and the sky was still that hazy grain of orange and blue. Not too far up ahead was the supposed location that had appeared on a little brown note that had taken up space on their kitchen counter that very same morning, or so they only hoped.

“How much fucking further?”

Remus huffed a resigned sigh upon hearing another one of Sirius’s many grumbles. Although he too could feel the irritation budding just beneath the surface of his skin at having been roped into all of this again, he was also tired and groggy enough from not having slept much the previous few nights and having woken up far too early to deal with it for much longer.

“Should be just over there.” Remus replied to him, and sure enough he spotted a familiar face poised not even twenty feet away. Alastor Moody’s magical eye honed in on them as they hastily approached, though his face did not waver the closer they drew and Remus watched on as the retired Auror pulled his wand on them.

Back to this bullshit again. He withheld the urgent need to roll his eyes.

“Lupin. Black.” Moody greeted gruffly, lip curled as he scrutinised the pair of them.

“Alastor.”

Moody glanced between them both but turned to Sirius first, “Black, first thing you asked me day one of your Auror training.”

Sirius grinned beside Remus, fisted hands settling on his hips as he rolled back onto his heels. “Fuck me, can you see through my robes with that eye?”

The older wizard gave a harsh nod. “Lupin. Year and month we met.”

“August of ’75.”

“Where?”

“Knockturn, near The White Wyvern.”

Moody swept his tongue out to wet his lower lip as he surveyed them both a moment longer, Remus chose to ignore the curious look Sirius shot him before the Auror finally cracked a smile- or what resembled one- and eased up.

“Good to see you boys. ‘Ere take this.” Moody handed them both a sheet of parchment to share and Remus’s eyes scanned the loopy letters that marred it in dark green ink, when he glanced back up a withered castle stood just before them.

“Old Dumbles really is moving up in the world.” Sirius whistled lowly and Remus couldn’t help but reluctantly agree, wondering where on Earth the headmaster might have found the funds to use this place as a hideout. The last war all they’d had was family homes and the odd tavern, this… this was something else and for some reason it didn’t bode well.

“Inside, second door on yer right.” Moody instructed them and Remus inhaled as he gifted the man another short nod.

He and Sirius passed on through the castle’s wards and felt a familiar brush of magic, Remus’s skin itched with it but he made no comment as they wandered further into the ruins of a watchtower.

The castle wasn’t the size of Hogwarts, nowhere near close, but it wasn’t small either. Its insides looked as though they’d recently been restored, via some rather impressive charms work, and if he tried hard enough Remus could almost picture the landmark in its glory days, how it would’ve felt to have roamed it way back then.

Already they could hear the distant murmurs of the group they were set to meet, and he and Sirius knew to keep quiet from here on out, never knowing who might be listening in. They had a set of rules in place for this, they weren’t coming in blindsided this time around.

If he was being truthful, Remus felt a little wave of apprehension roll through him as they shuffled on through the narrow walk way, it only eased a fraction when a familiar hand took his. He glanced over to where Sirius walked a step behind him, slate grey eyes giving him the strength he needed to push further forward and through the approaching door.

The chamber behind the wooden beam was the size of a manor’s receiving room and a horde of heads all turned in their direction as they slipped on inside. Remus did his best to keep the frantic panic he’d been feeling all morning at bay and forced a smile towards the room’s occupants, at faces whom he hadn’t seen in years. Thankfully though, Sirius took the chance to draw the attention away from him, always on the ball. They worked like clockwork, the synonym of Yin and Yang, day and night. Where Remus preferred to watch, stay reserved, Sirius lured people in like a charmer to a basket covered snake.

“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes! It’s like I’ve gone and stepped back in time!” Sirius beamed, swanning in as though he owned the place and took up all the space he possibly could. Emmeline Vance caught his eye first, seated closest to the door, and he sent the woman an exaggerated wink, “Emme you haven’t aged a day, my darling! How’ve you been?” He pecked her cheek before he then spotted the Weasley’s coupled up in the far corner, “And Molly, don’t you just look beautiful! Kids have got you glowing!” The redheaded woman rolled her eyes at the compliment whilst her husband grinned up at the dark haired wizard in turn.

“Sirius, still as youthful as ever, I see!”

“Too right, Arthur! Only age like fine wine, us Blacks. It’s all in the blood.” Sirius laughed, and his gaze seemed to drag towards a young purple haired woman sat near the very end, “You’ll be thankful for it, too, I reckon. Look just like your mother, you do! Speaking of, how is our wonderful Andy doing nowadays?”

The woman grinned back at Sirius, purple fading into a very dark brown as it fell from the chopped bob she wore into a wave of tight curls down her back. Both Remus and Sirius seemed to blink at the unexpected change, before the latter hiccupped a laugh.

“Mum’s mum,” The woman deemed, entertained by the reaction she’d garnered, “Always fine. Mentioned you a few times over the years though, cousin.”

Sirius smirked, “A metamorphmagus, kept that quiet didn’t she? And I’d be offended if she hadn’t mentioned me, love.” He leant in closer towards the girl, who shifted her hair back to the original purple in a matter of seconds, and extended his hand, “Sirius.”

“Tonks.” She introduced before flashing a pair of brown eyes in Remus’s direction, Sirius caught on and grinned.

“That, my dear, is the lovely Remus Lupin. Gorgeous gent, but unfortunately, he’s taken.”

“Oh, how very nice for you, Remus!” Molly butted in with a bright smile just as Remus slumped over towards a free seat, Sirius taking up the one on his right. “Who is she, anyone we would know?”

Remus’s eyes widened on their own accord and he very subtly had to step on Sirius’s foot when the man snorted abruptly, before he glanced back at the red haired matriarch. Thankfully though, the door opened once more and in strolled Albus, with Moody and Severus Snape flanking his either side. Remus thanked the fates above for the save, whilst Sirius, who’d previously been snickering to himself, immediately quietened.

Things had been… divided amongst The Order for a long time now, but that divide had only sedminentled itself when the fact that the Boy Who Lived would not be attending Hogwarts was released to the public. Neither Remus nor Sirius had been any wiser to it, which had been the final nail in the coffin for them.

They’d been fighting with Dumbledore at every corner ever since that fateful night of ’81, desperate for any kind of information, any contact, with Harry. But the headmaster had been adamant and almost cruel in his decision to cut all ties with the boy once he was ‘safe’ and in the supposed ‘muggle world’.

They’d begged, pleaded with the man, and then when all their cries had fallen on deaf ears they even went and spoke to multiple solicitors about what could be done, which had been an incredibly arduous task seeing as though most witches and wizards in and out of the ministry were under Dumbledore’s thumb- or posing like they were. It was difficult trying to go against someone so publicly loved. Remus lost a lot of respect for the man rather quickly, but he’d never been able to go against Albus outright, not after everything he’d done for him as a child. Without Dumbledore he’d have never attended Hogwarts, let alone met James and the rest of the Marauders.

Sirius, on the other hand, had no concerns of the sort. He fumed and berated the aging wizard each chance he got, growing colder and colder with their every interaction. The hatred he now held for Dumbledore was something akin to the slick haired man stood by his side, scowling at the rest of the room. Things had even gotten so bad that Sirius, with no one else to turn to, had gone to his grandfather, Arcturus, for help. The pair hadn’t spoken since his younger brother’s funeral, Sirius having not attended his father’s later that same year, nor his mother’s half a decade later, but Remus suspected that the pair had been close when Sirius was a child. From what he’d seen at least.

Even though they’d reached out with only selfish intentions, Arcturus had responded rather promptly and done everything in his power to help aid his grandson, even overlooked Remus’s position in Sirius’s life once the old man had clocked on.

They’d gone through almost every dark inclined solicitor in Britain and Ireland before the man had reached out to the Isles, using his influence there to gather as much information as he possibly could. In the end, it’d all been for nothing, because each and every one of them came back with the exact same thing.

After the night at Godric’s Hollow it seemed as though Harry Potter no longer existed. Which had been preposterous in and of itself, but only proved how much influence Albus Dumbledore held. Well, how much they’d believed he’d held at the time. After now having actually heard Harry’s side of the story it was difficult to determine what really went down that Halloween.

Remus subtly pressed his outer thigh to Sirius’s own when he saw how rigid the man went upon seeing the headmaster, silently willing him to stay calm, see reason. They needed to keep their wits about them in an environment like this, most of the people here knew just how hard they’d fought Dumbledore and had alienated them for it.

“Ah, glad to be seeing so many familiar faces!” Came Albus’s familiar rasp, silencing what little chatter still remained. Remus allowed his eyes to scan the room, never lingering on a single person for longer than necessary.

There must’ve been just over fifteen people gathered, it was frightening how quickly they’d all come running, most of them gazing up at the old headmaster with stars in their eyes.

“But it’s sad to note that it is only due to more dire circumstance.” Dumbledore continued, he too roamed the room with an expectant gaze, Remus made sure to dip his head when his turn came. “Never the less, I’m pleased to see how many of you still answered the call, I know these past years have been a struggle.”

That was definitely directed towards them, wasn’t it?

Sirius twitched in his seat and so Remus pressed against his leg a little harder, just hoping that the man would hold out. They had Harry now, he was safe, he was home. Dumbledore could not take him from them again. He couldn’t know. Otherwise there’d be a whole new game at stake.

The meeting dragged on, as they tended to, and Remus felt his heart clench at every reminder that hit him of the many friends that were missing, of the looks he could no longer share across the table.

A few people spoke up throughout, but it was mainly just Albus spouting more dribble about the upcoming elections, and his assumptions were almost maddening.

“You can’t actually believe that Lord Sayre is of any danger to us?” Sirius snorted beside him and Remus bit down harder on his tongue in hopes that his partner might somehow feel his warning and actually heed it. Or at the very least, shut up!

Dumbledore’s eyes immediately turned to them, the twinkle dimmed behind his half-moon spectacles as his stare sharpened a watt. “Of course I do, Sirius. The ministry is at its weakest as of right now, whoever is put into a position of power could easily overturn everything we’ve worked so hard for.”

All you’ve worked for, you mean. Remus scorned silently.

Sirius couldn’t keep quiet though, always so rash, so quick to speak without any thought. His grandfather often berated him for it, though was somehow still amused by the antics his grandson had yet to grow out of.

“It’s the ministry, Albus! The minister does not run things alone, Sayre is just as likely to be elected for Minister as much as Thicknesse is, or Scrimgeour! And Godric only save us if Fudge is reelected again.”

A small chuckle trickled throughout the room at that, but fell silent when Dumbledore showed no light to Sirius’s levity.

“Sirius I urge you not to take this matter lightly. It is paramount that we do not overlook those involved, the world can not stand to see another wizard show such greed. I am very much certain we won’t survive it.”

“You’re acting as though the voted Minister is set to be the next Dark Lord, Albus!” Sirius laughed outrightly, shaking his head at the very notion as he leant forward in his seat, hands gripping either side of the chair. “Why are you so focused on this matter, on Sayre?”

“I too question the motive.” Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke, surprising most of the room’s occupants. Remus included.

Dumbledore glanced between the pair, then shook his head sadly. “The Sayre name died out a long time ago, when Isolt married James Stewart, the line is only known to be continued on through the blood of the Boot family. There is no known Lord Sayre, not on record. The man is imposing as the lost Sayre heir to better his ties amongst the pureblooded families, just like his predecessors.”

“Predecessors? Fates, Albus! Do you truly believe this man, Sayre, to be the next You-Know-Who?” Questioned Arthur, who’s wife was clinging to his arm with an erkling like hold. Remus withheld the groan at the forgoing of Voldemort’s name.

Albus did not answer and that in itself spoke volumes, sending most of the room into a frenzied state. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose and in his attempt to calm his many emotions, he missed wrangling Sirius back from biting at the headmaster again.

“This is insane! You can’t actually be saying that Lord Sayre is the next Voldemort!” Came Sirius’s ludicrous shout as he jumped to his feet, some gasps emitted at the very name but Sirius plowed on, sharp dark eyes zeroed in on Dumbledore himself. “Isolt moved to America, she founded Ilvermorny, for Circes sake! There’s a great chance that the bloodline continued over there! Why are you doing this again, Albus? The man’s innocent. He has yet to do a single thing wrong. And yet you stand here, telling us he’s a fraud, the next bloody Dark Lord in the making, and yet you offer us no actual proof! It’s like Harry all over again. You offered us nothing to his whereabouts then, and you offer nothing now.”

The room fell into a tense quiet then whilst Sirius’s words lingered, they practically set up shop in the middle of the grand wooden table they were all perched around and demanded to be heard again and again.

“Sirius…” Dumbledore attempted, casting the dark haired man a pitiful glance that said more than words could.

“Don’t.” Sirius snapped, pointing an unabashed finger at the old headmaster, “Do not, Albus. If you think for a single second I won’t continue to bring this up then you’ve got another thing coming. You told me Harry was safe. You promised me he’d be looked after- even after Voldemort was gone! You told us all that he’d be back to see his first year, that he’d be welcomed with open arms. And I waited! I waited for that boy, I waited at the gates of the train station for hours, and he never showed. I continued to wait each and every year! I did so without an explanation, without an apology. All whilst you hid away in your ivory tower, pulling the strings, and making up stories. But you see, I think you’re just a senile man too old to be playing such trivial games. I don’t think you know anything anymore. You’re losing your touch, Albus, and soon enough everyone will see it too.”

A hush that stifled the room settled in that next breath, like a pipe ready to burst. No one dared blink, let alone utter another word, all whilst Dumbledore stared long and hard at a vibrating Sirius who appeared just about ready to implode.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Sirius.” Is what Albus settled on as he clasped his hands languidly in his lap, almost as though he was trying not to set off a small child’s temper tantrum. Remus felt his own blood boil at the very cheek of it all, at the way Dumbledore brushed off each and every one of Sirius’s viable concerns. How, even then, he failed to assure them of his godson’s whereabouts. His safety.

Sirius scoffed loudly and Remus watched as his body sagged in disbelief, “Yeah, me too. I’m sorry I ever put my faith in you, Dumbledore.”

Then he was gone. Up and out of the door before anyone could determine his next move.

The room seemed to take a collective breath at that.

Dumbledore cleared his throat a few moments after the echoing vibration of the door’s slam levelled out. The man casted a long glance at them all next and Remus felt his entire spine stiffen when that watchful gaze lingered on him.

“If anyone else wishes to leave, please do so now. There will be no scorn.” Dumbledore murmured but no one dared move. Though Remus heard the stuttered beats of three of the crowd’s hearts and noticed the way Kingsley’s hands tightened in the vice grip he held behind his back. Remus met the eyes of Snape in that next breath.

The meeting continued on.

—

12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London

That night Harry slept fitfully.

After having learnt of the full proceedings of which had gone down at The Order’s meeting earlier that day, as well as hearing about his parents traitorous friend, it’d been a lot to take in.

Remus and Sirius had left him not long after their little summit in the kitchen, mostly due to Kreacher’s impromptu and incessant prattling about dinner and dog meat (Harry had forgotten to question him on that little addition in his exhaustion), but also because of the oh so obvious tension the pair had going on. Harry hadn’t wanted to get anymore involved than he already was, so he was rather obvious in his relief when the couple finally flooed out.

The next morning he woke early and with a start, it seemed that the trials of the last few days had been taking quite the toll on his mind as well as his body. Nightmares were something he’d been plagued with growing up, but as of recent years they’d dulled somewhat, this had been the first in a long while.

Rubbing at his bleary eyes, Harry got up and got himself ready for the day. Although, it had been a hard task untangling himself from the bedsheets Kreacher had lined the bed with, his heart seemed heavier this morning for some odd reason and the dream he’d had lingered in the periphery of his mind.

He made his way down the stairs soon enough, hating the quiet that encompassed the entire house, but the upper levels more so, to escape into the kitchen where Kreacher was stood at the stove cooking. The house elf glanced up at him as he entered but said nothing as Harry slumped into one of the wooden chairs available at the table, thoughts lingering on the conversation he’d had there the night previous.

“Little Master is up early.”

Harry lifted his head in the direction of the elf and watched as Kreacher moved about the space easily whilst somehow still keeping those beady eyes on him.

“I have a lot of things to do today.” Was all that Harry replied with before he thanked the elf quietly for the pot of tea that appeared on the tabletop.

The pair of them continued on with the reticent amity they’d created, Harry content with just listening to the sound of movement the elf made whilst he sipped at his tea every once in a while. Soon enough Kreacher had finished up with cooking and a plate appeared before Harry just as the house elf started on cleaning, neither one of them said a word. That was until a trill chirp sounded at the window.

Harry glanced up and flicked a hand to magically unhook the latch, allowing the owl admittance. He had to hide an amused smile when the bird hopped through and swooped low over Kreacher’s head before dropping a small box on the table and settling down on the back of another chair.

“Blasted birds.” The elf muttered darkly and with a scornful glare from where he was perched drying a pan.

“And who are you from, I wonder.” Harry hummed with a faint chuckle as he unwound a few papers from the owl’s leg and gifted the bird a strip of his bacon, ignoring the indignant hiss from the chef himself.

A rolled up local newspaper, dubbed The Daily Prophet, was the first thing he glanced at and although it looked like a load of old dribble, Harry figured it’d be his best bet at sourcing information, he set it aside for the time being. A leaflet for GalleLoans, a financial services company, fluttered out too, but Harry ignored it in favour of the three letters he’d received.

Bewildered and set on edge by the knowledge that not just one but three people knew of his whereabouts here, he quickly set aside his breakfast to unseal the first, no longer all that hungry.

Dear young Harrison,

Forgive me if this message disturbed the peace you may have found whilst hiding from my grandson’s lack of knowledge on personal space, but I do hope you give me the privilege of understanding that I only wished to welcome you back into our midst and am happy to hear that you are not only safe, but have turned into quite the impressionable young man.

When Sirius first told me of your disappearance and the many trials he suffered through in attempt to contact you all those years ago, I was beside myself. You see, I am just an old man now and have watched on as the lines of my family deteriorated, leaving me rather lonely, I must admit. When my grandson reentered my life he brought with him a breath of fresh air that’d been very much needed and allowed me to find something to dedicate myself to again.

The search for you, it was one of much grievance. I spent many a day, months even, doing all that I possibly could to help retrieve some intelligence, if only for the sake of my grandson, who’s mind had started to get away from him come that point. I fear the deaths of both your parents, and the part he played in the aftermath, has had a very detrimental affect on his health.

I still see sparks of the amicable boy I once knew in him, as well as the rebel that never failed to rile up my late son and his wife, though it pains me greatly when all that makes him the wizard he is is shrouded in sudden grief and torment. I only pray you see past some of that and allow him a little reprieve, a place in your life. It may be selfish to ask, but I also wish to play some part in it as well. I am an old man, as I unfortunately mentioned, and am aging quickly, I believe without having reconnected with Sirius I might have passed on to the other plane long ago. So, if you would be willing, I would be very much inclined to meeting you, Mr Potter. I’m sure we’d have much to discuss.

I wish you the very best regards and hope to see you soon,

Arcturus Black III.

Harry blinked down at the blotted page of carefully scrawled ink and released a heavy breath. Since arriving he had only heard the mention of Arcturus once, that day with Narcissa outside of Flourish and Blotts. His godfather’s reaction had been intriguing, as had the Lady Malfoy’s, but it had been pushed to the back of Harry’s mind when more pressing matters had arose. He didn’t quite know what to make of the older man’s letter but found himself wanting to reach out in return, if only to better build relationships within the Wizarding World- though Arcturus Black was definitely the place to start if he so wished.

Carefully he placed the letter down to his left and went to open the next, his mouth quirked up in an amused huff when he found it to have been sent from yet another Black family member.

Greetings Harry,

I am aware it hasn’t been long since we last encountered but I must admit, I was rather taken with you. I am sure both your mother and father would have been very proud of the young man you are quickly shaping up to be, as will the rest of the world once you present yourself this coming autumn, I assure you.

The Wizarding World, as I have come to view it, can be quite the menacing place at the best of times and although I am rather certain you will overcome any adversity you may receive, I only wish to remind you that you have a place amongst the Malfoy family, with me. Should you need anything, you only need ask.

In light of that, I have also taken the time to send along a gift for you, a welcoming of sorts, or a belated birthday acknowledgment if you prefer. It is customary among us Noble houses to pass along certain items to the next apparent heir, my father gifted these to me some time before my wedding, I meant to give them to my son, Draco, if Sirius never had any children of his own, but now I know they were laying in wait for you, Harry. They have a few magical properties, of which I will let you discover on your own, but I only hope you enjoy them as much as our ancestors once did.

I very much look forward to seeing you again soon, and if I don’t get the chance before your schooling starts I do hope you’ll send a letter or two informing me of how you get along.

Many well wishes, Harry.

Lady Narcissa Malfoy.

The woman did not lack tact, that much was certain, Harry thought as he glanced over the letter once more. She was poised and extremely careful with her words, elegant in her scrawl and if you learnt to read between the lines a lot of what she said was rather surprising.

Harry was very much startled by the unexpected gift he’d received though and peered over at the small box the owl had dropped off on its way in, he pressed his lips together and leant in to retrieve it.

A gift.

Okay, he could almost understand the intent behind it, but there were a lot of ways he could look at it. Bribery, for one. A kind curtesy, in another. Though from what he’d seen of Lord Malfoy and what he’d picked up on here and there, he figured that the Malfoy’s might have the tendency to dip their fingers in a multitude of pies at once, if only to save their own hide if a time ever did come and they had to call in a favour.

Still, it was a nice enough gesture, especially after Narcissa had vowed to keep his sudden appearance under lock and key. He kept that thought in mind as he untied the perfect satin black bow and opened up the myrtle green box.

Harry’s lips parted at the unexpectedness of the gift inside and he was quick to place the box’s top on the counter so that he could carefully pull out one of the two cufflinks that lined the interior.

They were gun metal grey in colour and had a certain weight to them as he cradled a singular one in his palm. On the exterior was an engraving of the Black Family crest which moved under his widened gaze, three black birds fluttering their wings and a hand waving a hefty silver sword above. The outer rim encased a series of two tiny cardinals, both emeralds, and one lone onyx stone which sat front and centre.

The cufflinks were distinguished and rather beautiful, but Harry found himself lost in the meaning behind them. Sure, they were typically seen as a symbol of wealth, power and reputation, but to gift them to a person meant commemorating a serious occasion. What was Narcissa aiming for here?

Harry was pulled from his inner musings when a drainpipe nose suddenly begun to block his view of the gift and was amused by the reaction Kreacher gave the two jewellery pieces he held. Harry had yet to witness the elf’s eyes this wide.

“Wonderful, aren’t they?” He commented and was met with a sharp look from the elf himself.

“They are belongings to The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Not even the mutt, nor Master Regulus got to see these.”

Harry’s brow furrowed at the mention of the latter. “Regulus is Sirius’s younger brother, correct?”

“Was.” Kreacher corrected him, casting one final glance at the cufflinks before he moved away again.

“What happened to him, if you don’t mind me asking, Kreacher?” Harry questioned cautiously, quietly placing the cufflink he held back into the box and onto the table. The house elf did not turn back to him but Harry observed the way Kreacher’s shoulders hunched.

“Master Regulus died. Drowned. That is all you be needing to know.”

“He drowned?” Harry prodded further, undeterred by the elf’s dismissal.

Kreacher’s narrowed eyes flew over to find him and held him in place as his tiny body followed, spindly fingers twitching. “Drowned.” He repeated.

Harry had to stop before he sighed aloud, the elf was as stubborn as a mule. “Yes, but how?”

Kreacher’s expression took on one of pain and anger and suffering, too many emotions at once that Harry’s own pinched as he stared back at the elf.

“Master Regulus went against orders. Protected Kreacher, he did. Had Kreacher vow not to save him.”

That information felt too valuable to discard at face value, there was more to it.

“Who’s orders?”

“The snake man. He likes to hiss.”

Harry froze at the obvious notion Kreacher was getting at. Regulus had fought for Voldemort, against his own brother it seemed, but, why had he gone against the man’s orders in the end? Had he been reckless or had he intended to die? It didn’t make any sense.

“Why did Regulus choose to do it? Why wouldn’t he let you save him?”

Kreacher’s face slowly fell as his eyes latched onto something behind him, mind obviously elsewhere. Still, Harry had to force the need to glance in the direction away.

“Why, Kreacher?”

“Master Regulus was smart. Smartest wizard Kreacher ever knew. But his Master Regulus’s Lord had many secrets. Many things hidden.” Harry’s brow pinched, hidden? “Wanted Kreacher’s help.”

“To hide something?” Harry guessed and nodded when Kreacher dipped his head in reply, eyes still slightly glazed as he continued to stare over his shoulder. “What did he want to hide?”

Kreacher seemed to snap out of it then and his head shot towards Harry with a venomous glare, “Too many questions!”

Harry raised his hands in the air and regarded the house elf silently, “I only wish to help, Kreacher. What Regulus did was brave. It must have been rather difficult for you when he asked you not to save him.”

“It was!” Kreacher growled out, though not towards Harry, at the situation he’d been forced into rather. “Kreacher loved Master Regulus dearly. Kreacher continues to follow his orders.”

That wording made Harry pause for a split second.

Now, house elves weren’t recognised for their impeccable manners of speech, most young children could string together sentences better, but they did try and Harry had been quick to realise just how intelligent Kreacher himself was.

“What did Regulus ask of you before he died, Kreacher?”

The elf’s narrowed eyes widened once again as he stared up at Harry in horror. “How’s this little Master be knowing? How!”

“I just figured, Kreacher. That’s all.” Harry assured the creature, “If you don’t wish to tell me any more then that’s fine. But I won’t be able to aid you any further with your troubles, if you chose so.”

Kreacher looked torn for a moment and when he begun to walk away, past him, Harry figured that the elf had made his decision. But was ultimately surprised when Kreacher trekked back to his side, pausing momentarily before holding up a short letter.

Kreacher, if you are reading this then I have failed in the task I have set for myself and the world as we know it will change completely. I don’t know how much time I have, but now that you have the horcrux, you must hide it. Do you understand? Hide it and then when you can, destroy it. Do not allow it to fall into the clutches of another, Kreacher. Promise me only this. You have been a dutiful servant and it has been an honour being your master. R.A.B.

Harry swallowed thickly. A horcrux. How foolish had Voldemort been?

In quick succession Harry filed through every lesson he’d ever had, every book he’d ever read, and sifted through it all to find whatever he could remember on the wickedest of all magical inventions. A horcrux. The utter idiot!

To create a horcrux, a wizard first had to damage their soul, which meant deliberately committing an act of murder in order to achieve it. An act so evil, done without regret or remorse, that it resulted in the metaphysical sundering of your own soul. Throughout history there had only ever been so few cases. So little in fact that Harry was surprised that Voldemort had even heard of the magic. Oh Circe, what had he done?

“Do you have the horcrux now, Kreacher?” Harry asked and his question must’ve startled the elf because Kreacher jolted slightly before those beady eyes begun to drift every which way. “Kreacher?” Harry prompted and felt his heartbeat quickening. The wolf within him whined at his sudden distress. “Kreacher, I need to know. Do you have the horcrux?”

The house elf glanced up at him and slowly shook his head. “No.”

—

Harry had apparrated from Grimmauld before he could do something he’d soon regret, like throttle the house elf that refused to give up any further information on the horcux he’d apparently collected.

Gods, and to think they’d almost been getting along!

He had to will himself to calm, to think rationally about this whole ordeal. He’d be of no use to anyone if he continued to work himself into utter disarray. This was just a blip. Yes. A massive fucking blip the size of a black hole, but a blip none the less. It could be sorted. It would be.

Harry took another long breath and pulled his head from out of his hands to glance up at wherever he’d popped back into existence. Stupid now that he’d recollected his thoughts, anything could have happened with him so off his guard, but still he squinted his stare and glanced about, only to find he hadn’t traveled all that far. In fact, he’d just taken up residence on a bench in the nearby park close to Grimmauld Place. He inhaled again, a little slower this time around.

Fucking Voldemort and fucking house elves! Is this what he had to deal with now?

A merry laugh dragged him from his thoughts then and Harry’s head snapped up and around to find a very unexpected visitor stood about a foot away from him

“Merlin?” Harry gasped, “Gods! What the hell are you doing here?”

The wizard, clad in more muggle appropriate clothing of colours grey and green, was smiling down at him as though no time at all had passed. Almost instantly Harry jumped up from his seat and bolted towards him, throwing his arms around the man’s torso so strongly he caused Merlin to shift back a step at the force. He beamed when a familiar pair of hands settled themselves on his back.

“My dear, I hear you’ve been keeping busy.”

Harry’s eyes shut at the emotion the man’s voice brought forth and squeezed a little harder, as if to prove to himself that Merlin truly was there.

“Oh young one, it’s only been a few days.” Merlin chuckled, not unkindly, brushing his shoulders before holding him at arms length. “Let me get a good look at you now. Rowena would have my head if she thought you were anything but healthy down here.”

Harry’s throat tightened at the very thought of the dark haired witch, but he somehow managed to keep his teary emotions at bay. “I’m fine. I’m, well, I’m as good as I can be, I suppose. How is everyone? Are they okay, have they been keeping well?”

Merlin laughed once more and squeezed Harry’s shoulders before he guided them both on over to the bench. “They’re keeping busy. Preparing for a new school year, I believe. Though the castle has been rather quiet without you around.”

Harry nodded and swallowed thickly.

“But Helga is tending to her gardens, trying to tame the aconite, it’s being particularly temperamental this year.” Merlin divulged before he rambled off onto the ongoings at the castle and what everyone else had been up to. Godric had taken in a small injured crup he’d found trailing the edge of the forest, named it Hal. Merlin had shared an amused look with him at that. Rowena had been trying to solve another puzzle, Arithmancy or something of the sort, Harry hadn’t been able to wrangle a proper explanation out of the old man. And Sal, well, it seemed as though he’d set off across the country in search to find more young witches and wizards to teach, when Harry had asked more, Merlin’s expression had wavered before he’d managed to waylay the conversation in his favour.

“And you?” Harry questioned, he had his whole body turned towards Merlin now, the bench had hardly enough room to seat them both comfortably but the other wizard didn’t seem to mind.

“Me, I’ve been busy, my dear. As to be expected.” Merlin replied with another contagious grin, “But I’ve kept an ear out for you.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed but the smile he wore counteracted the gesture, “What’s that meant to mean?”

Merlin laughed, patting Harry’s knee. “Exactly how it sounds, I’ve been trained to listen out for trouble when it comes to you.” Harry knocked into his side lightly in retort, but the wizard carried on. “I know these first few days have been incredibly hard, I just wanted to pop in and remind you that you are capable, and that it’s never too late to change your mind.”

Harry thought it over, grateful for the offer even though they both knew he’d never take the out.

“I’m fine here. Things have proven more difficult than expected this early on, but,” He shrugged, chancing a glance around the park, at all the verdant green. “I’m coping.”

“That you are. Very adaptable, always have been.”

Harry smiled at the wizards kind words and let them sit there between them for a moment.

“I see you found my ring also.” Merlin commented, extending his pinky out to poke at Harry’s left hand. Harry blinked down at the gold ring perched contently on his middle finger.

“Yeah,” Harry snorted as he held his hand up to get a closer look, he’d gotten too used to the bands he wore there now. “Imagine my surprise when that came up in my inheritance test, as well as being the heir of Hogwarts! The goblins were terrifying in all their excitement.”

Merlin released a small round of chuckles, “I can only picture it, my dear. Though perhaps I could ask the Fates to let me visit the moment when I return.”

“You can do that?” Harry queried in intrigue, back straightening as he glanced up once more at the other wizard.

Merlin smirked and waved the question off. “It was my intended’s you know, that ring, but they passed on before anyone else could inherit it.”

Well that threw Harry for a loop, he’d never known much of Merlin’s life before or outside of the castle, just that he’d had a mother that’d passed too. He pondered over what other secrets the man might hold.

“I’m sorry.”

Merlin waved those words off too, granting him a fond smile before his eyes shifted away. “I’m just glad to see it again.”

Harry followed his gaze down to the man’s own hand where only a singular ring sat on his index, he remembered it from his time spent back home. The band was a thimble silver, but its centre a thick gold. Harry allowed his own palm to come and rest over the back of Merlin’s as a contemplative silence settled. Oh, how he’d missed the man.

A shift of topics was needed though, Harry decided soon enough. “So are you ever going to tell me why you’re here, or is it just a quick drop in? Make sure I’m behaving and all that.”

A loud chuckle escaped the older wizard and Harry grinned in return, pleased to have charmed him. “No, as much as I wished that was the case,” Merlin sobered, “I fear there is more at work than we first realised.”

Harry’s forehead furrowed as he frowned, “What do you mean? How so?”

“The ministry.” Was all that Merlin said and slowly it clicked into place for Harry.

“The elections, you mean?” And at the older wizard’s nod, Harry continued on, “I figured something was up when you failed to mention it. Took me by surprise that first day in the square. What do you think of it all then?”

Merlin’s eyes tracked the horizon before them, shrouded in trees and hazy clouds, Harry watched the cogs of the man’s marvellous mind turn.

“In truth, I don’t quite know what to make of it all, my dear. The future is unclear. Being rewritten in its entirety actually.”

Harry blinked, breath caught in his throat. “But what does that mean for us? What do the Fates say? Does Voldemort still play a part in it all? He’s got a horcux you know. The Black family elf, Kreacher, his Master, Regulus, Sirius’s younger brother, died attempting to destroy it. Drowned, he claimed. But I couldn’t get much more out of him, it’s why I’m out here.” He paused in his rambling, realising that Merlin hadn’t really reacted the way he’d expected. “Did you hear me, Merlin? He’s made a horcux.”

“Indeed I did, Harry.”

Taken back by the sound of his name, Harry stopped to think. Merlin rarely ever called him Harry, it told him all he needed to know.

“You already knew of it, didn’t you?” When Merlin sighed, Harry knew he’d been right. “Why didn’t you tell me? I need to learn how to destroy them- they’re all but indestructible, aren’t they?”

Merlin took his hand once more and shuffled slightly to better face him, kind blue eyes meeting Harry’s own.

“I did not tell you, because I only believed there to be one.”

“There’s more than one?” Harry breathed out, mind whirling once again.

“Harry, my dear, look at me.” Merlin’s voice broke through his endless array of thoughts and Harry gazed up. “I think there may be several.”

On all the Gods and the many stars above, Harry felt his heart surrender to a stutter upon hearing that admittance. “Several?”

Merlin dipped his head gravely.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” Harry asked him, a sudden anger clouding his tone as he fought the urge to retract himself from the man’s very presence. The only reason he didn’t was due to the fact that he’d sorely missed him.

“Because I did not know until today, my dear- not of the others. Believe me when I tell you that.” Merlin admitted wearily, his voice had taken on a certain sombre.

“But you knew of one?” Harry forced himself to ask and Merlin’s throat bobbed through a swallow, though he did not once look away from Harry’s fiery gaze.

“I did, or I suspected.” Merlin acknowledged.

Harry let his eyes slip close, breaths shaky as he withdrew and expelled air from his body.

“You need to understand this though, Harry. It’s important.” Merlin continued, his grip tightening a fraction on Harry’s hands to garner his full focus. “All the horcuxes have been found and returned. There is only one which remains.”

“Returned? Found? What do you mean, Merlin? Does Voldemort have them, or does someone else?” Harry questioned the greying wizard, desperate for all the answers he now sought.

Merlin sighed.

“During the time you were set to return, there were rumours spreading here. Amongst certain circles, where only a mere handful of people knew. I caught on too late, but not late enough that I couldn’t prolong your arrival here.” The man explained, “The horcuxes Voldemort made were all created at different points in his life, the first during his time at Hogwarts, the last… the last was the Samhain that he found you, my dear.”

Harry’s head was racing a mile a minute. He couldn’t make sense of it all.

“But you said that they’d all been found, all but one.” Harry tried, “What does that mean, found? Are they going to be destroyed?”

Merlin shook his head in defeat, “Not destroyed, restored.”

Blanching, Harry felt his entire body shift, he couldn’t wrap his head around it, it wouldn’t add up. “Why would anyone restore them, how is it even possible?”

A tilt of Merlin’s head and the grim curve of his mouth gave Harry the only revelation he needed. He felt numb.

“Voldemort did. He’s no longer a wraith, is he?” Harry asked, but there wasn’t any need. They both knew now.

“I’m afraid not, my dear.”

“And what of this final horcux, the one he has yet to find. Can we not beat him to it and destroy it?”

That grim smile of his turned sympathetic, painful even, and Harry felt a peculiar wave of dread overcome him.

“He won’t find it, Harry, because he does not know it even exists.” Merlin told him quietly, before he raised a hand to cradle his cheek. Harry trembled beneath it.

“What is it, Merlin? What are you not telling me?” Harry asked the man that had a hand in raising him, tears stung his eyes as the aging wizard’s thumb brushed against his temple, his scar.

“The night Voldemort made an attempt on your life, he hit you with a spell so immoral that when you did not die, it left you with a curse scar instead.” Merlin explained in a hushed murmur, his own eyes wet.

Harry feared the words that would come. His chest tightened, ribs enclosing around his erratic heart.

“You house the final horcux, Harry.” Merlin whispered regrettably, “You hold a piece of his soul, my dear.”