Chapter 11
Damage control, damage control, damage control, thought Adelaide as she became more and more freaked out, "Anomalistic events? Whatever could you mean?" She focused on getting more information so Adelaide could learn to best control the situation. The seer could've seen everything about Harrison's work with Riddle, and Adelaide needed to know-- desperately how she could avert her suspicions long enough to warn the two wizards.
She didn't fancy leaving Lestrange Manor with a dead body, and Adelaide hoped to avoid that fate at all costs. She'd left her bloodthirsty days behind her, after all.
Lestrange just grinned that infuriating grin again, making Adelaide want to leap across the coffee table and throttle her even more.
"The future is an uncertain entity, Lady Peverell. It tends to change based on the smallest of actions. Despite that, lately, I've been having similar variations of the same future over and over again. The point is, every single scenario I've seen never has the same outcome except Lord Peverell. He's been in every one of my visions, the common denominator if you will. Yet I, for the life of me, can't figure out why. Even the most important figures are sometimes slaughtered only for Mr. Peverell to be alive and well. So, I just want to know, what is so special about him?"
The question may have seemed innocent, brief even, yet Adelaide had no bloody clue what to answer. She had no idea what was so special about Harrison. He certainly didn't seem all that important. Harrison Potter, for all intents and purposes, was and is average.
He wasn't filthy rich; The Potters were new money, after all. He always got average grades in classes, nothing noteworthy, except for defense which he always excelled in.
But then, all of a sudden, Harrison becomes remarkable. Adelaide remembered the aftermath of the boy's arrest. The Hogwarts rumour mill ran rampant for days before the papers released an official statement. He suddenly became significant overnight, and that fame never entirely left. Years later during pureblood galas and parties, the subject always seemed to come up, 'Remember Harrison Potter, the Heir of Slytherin...?'
Despite being average in every way that counted, he was still somehow remarkable. Enough to make an impression years later when anyone else would've become irrelevant.
"I- I couldn't say, Lady Lestrange." Adelaide stuttered, still caught off guard. She quickly shook herself out of her thoughts, refocusing on the threat present in front of her. "I'm afraid I can't be having this conversation with you, Lady Lestrange. I can't speak for my brother as you should be aware. Perhaps this is something you should discuss with him." With that, she left as hastily as she could manage to warn Harrison.
Who knew what that bloody seer knew? Meanwhile, Lady Lestrange hid her smirk behind her teacup, let them come to her, she mused.
⁂
Harrison, currently at the Ministry of Magic, felt the air in the atmosphere change before he even acknowledged the man's presence. He instantly felt on edge, feeling unsafe with this new aura practically suffocating him.
"Lord Peverell, I believe we have not had the pleasure of meeting!" came a jovial voice to his right, Harrison turned around, only to be greeted by the grandfatherly face of Albus Dumbledore.
Harrison forced a tight smile onto his face that came out as more of a grimace, "Dumbledore! I've heard so much about you."
"All good things, I hope!"
Harrison internally panicked. Riddle hadn't prepared for him to have a conversation with Dumbledore so soon. Right now, Dumbledore was their biggest enemy, and Harrison felt ill-prepared to deal with such a powerful man all by himself.
They continued to make small talk for a couple of minutes, and just as Harrison felt he was slipping, the Chief Warlock assembled the Wizengamot at last, allowing them into the room. But before Harrison could make a hasty escape, Dumbledore spoke, "We should have another chat soon, Mr. Peverell!"
Harrison chuckled awkwardly, "Indeed we shall, Dumbledore." with that, he strode away to sit with those he was more familiar with. As he pondered his earlier discussion, he felt he had done an adequate job. Dumbledore didn't seem suspicious about his cover story and that's all that mattered.
He sighed, thinking of what Riddle would say when he found out. Merlin, help his soul. Maybe he should've stayed away, observed from afar, lay on a beach somewhere with no extradition laws and live the rest of his life in bliss. Alas, it was not meant to be, he thought mournfully.
⁂
Albus Dumbledore looked thoughtfully across the Wizengamot hall towards Lord Peverell. The man was enigmatic, in a way, and it concerned Dumbledore. Peverell had been getting cozy with dark wizards these past few months, and frankly, he was getting worried.
He still had no clue what Tom was planning, but clearly, something was brewing in the air. He could almost feel the energy. And then came the mystery of Henri Peverell. Albus' contacts could find almost nothing of the man, except for a birth certificate and school records. Albus was instantly suspicious.
On top of all that, he had a remarkable magical core, one of the most powerful he had ever seen. Though clearly untrained, he thought with amusement. Seeing such magic swirling around Peverell, without being kept in check was refreshing. He did so love magic in its natural state.
Alas, his worry far overshadowed his amusement, and Albus felt himself getting greyer than he already was. This fight was not for an old man such as himself, but he was determined not to let Tom gain power, allowing him to mercilessly slaughter Muggles and Muggleborns.
Yes, thought Albus, I must stay cautious of this Peverell fellow.
⁂
Harrison sat in his bed in Peverell Castle, waiting for Adelaide's panicked mutterings to end, "Adelaide, bloody hell, calm down!" he exclaims, finally fed up with the nonsensical words.
"Sorry! It's just--" she sighed and takes a sip of her chamomile tea, "you know the lady I was talking to at the ball? Lady Lestrange?" she asked tentatively.
Harrison's eyes narrowed, "...yes?"
"Well. I may have forgotten to mention she's a ministry-certified seer... and that she has somehow seen you in a bunch of her visions and probably knows about your involvement with Tom and Merlin knows what. Fucking Seers!" She finishes her short rant panting for breath, "So, yeah! I hope your day went better than mine."
As Harrison tries to comprehend what she's just said, Adelaide sips her tea with urgency wondering why the chamomile wasn't fucking helping her calm down!
"So what you're telling me is that you just had a friendly chat with a seer, who probably knows about Tom being fucking Voldemort, and clearly she's seen me in enough visions to know that I'm involved with him," Adelaide sends him a look and he rushes to clarify, "obviously platonic and strictly business involvement!"
"Right." She says skeptically.
"I hate you so much," he sends her a death glare, but seeing the grin on her face makes him instantly melt, "god, I can't even stay annoyed we're in so much deep shit."
That sobers them up as Harrison drily remarks, "I hope he's in a fantastically good mood when we tell him because I do not fancy being crucioed today."