Chess Master
*****
Ron was thrilled to have his best mate around again. He’d missed the broody teen and it was sometimes lonely around the place, with the twins constantly gone, Ginny quiet as a mouse most of the time lately, and little to do other than clean and prank his mother in retaliation for hitting Charlie. Yet Harry had come to Grimmauld looking so much better than the young Weasley had ever seen him and also more withdrawn.
He’d filled out since the cleanse he’d undergone, finally shooting up in height until he almost reached Ron’s most recent one. The trip to Diagon had outfitted him in expensive clothing that actually fit, for once, so it was finally possible to see how attractive his best mate was. Not that Ron was looking, since he was fairly sure he was strictly into ladies, but he could still appreciate. Even if Harry did now look more posh than Malfoy, the Prince of Slytherin himself. It helped that Harry’s scars were also less visible. Ron had noticed them years ago but had kept quiet when it became obvious that Harry didn’t like talking about them and often forgot he had them, undressing with his back turned but in the room they shared at school. If the black haired teen still had them after all the healing he’d had over the summer, Ron would have to mention them to the twins and Sirius, if only to help the three decide on punishment for those horrible muggles.
Harry was also more confident, but only when he was in private, no longer curling into himself as if in constant fear. He was acting more like a proper pureblood and after a quick conversation, Ron knew it was because of lessons with Sirius. Lessons that Sirius was considering requiring for all in on the secret if only to fill in any gaps in knowledge. His thought was that even if a wizard or witch didn’t qualify as ‘pureblood’, they should still have knowledge of the customs and beliefs of that group, if only to avoid pissing one of them off. Since Harry was the son of an ancient pureblood line and a squib line, he technically counted as pureblood, by the caveat Wizarding Britain had added when the population took a sharp dip after Grindelwald that a child of a pureblood and a half-blood or squibborn could reclaim pureblood status. It had been meant as a way to introduce new blood into the families without losing their precious title, but as far as Ron knew, no one had used it since its inception.
While it was obviously working wonders for his friend, Ron was not looking forward to revising his own lessons on pureblood culture…. He’d hated it when his Aunt Muriel had basically kidnapped them all over the years for lessons. But if it helped protect Harry, to get one over on Malfoy by acting properly just to throw the ponse off, to out Slytherin the Slytherins in regard to tradition, he’d do it. If only to learn how best to annoy them in a language they understood.
However, no matter the clothes he wore or the confidence he carried, Harry seemed to flash between depressed and angry far easier than he ever had. And he very much carried himself differently when around Molly Weasley. Ron had seen the transformation a few times and it worried him, though he understood somewhat. He would never forget the image of his doting, loving mother slapping his older brother. Or how she treated the twins. After contemplating the past, he realized just how long that had been going on…. So he couldn’t fault Harry for how he acted around the woman, especially if their assumptions were right.
Whenever Harry even suspected the woman to be within hearing distances, Harry instantly became the boy from first year, scared of his own shadow and cowed by the Weasley matriarch. Even as Ron could see rage boiling in his startling green eyes. He was not surprised, but it was unsettling to see his normally laid back, shy friend so incensed. He wondered when exactly the rage would finally overflow and he’d be protecting his best mate from killing his mum and then succumbing to guilt from what Hermione’d called a saving people thing. He didn’t particularly want a repeat of Harry’s depression after he’d been forced to kill Quirrell their first year.
But Harry wasn’t the only one to change. Ron himself had noticed he was more prone to fits of protective ire than before his cleanse. And he’d always been protective of Harry. It was the right thing to do, as best friends and an acknowledgement of the sacrifice Harry had given when only a baby. Case in point, his almost constant pranking of his mother in response to her actions at the bank and her disbelief of his friend’s home life. The twins were crowing that he managed to maintain innocence until they could come back and assist, going so far as to possibly include him in their business. He was also making strategic connections even faster now that he could think clearly. He’d always been gifted in that area, but now it was like the world was a giant chess game and he was still learning all the players and pieces, but once he did, he had no doubt the game would go in his favor.
He also didn’t seem to feel the crippling levels of jealousy he used to. Or the need for fame. Which made his blood boil and a number of interactions over the last few years to come into startling relief. He had a lot to make up for, a lot to correct in both his school work and his friendship with Harry.
The only thing that didn’t seem to change about Harry over the few weeks they’d been separated, and the one thing Ron had really hoped would have, was Harry’s unwillingness to ‘burden’ anyone else with his problems. Ron would admit he’d not been the best friend lately, but he could also still read his best mate better than anyone, and Harry’d been showing all the signs of having something he should talk about for days. It was the one trait Ron had been hoping would go away now that Harry had been cleansed and had family around. But he knew poking the teen to spill would not end well. Don’t get him wrong, Ron wanted to get to the bottom of Harry’s apparent distress, but he also wanted to respect the teen’s privacy so he was in quite the potion and he just could not figure out how to ask what was wrong without asking what was wrong.
What did not help in his plans to get Harry to talk, though, was Hermione. The witch had arrived right on schedule two weeks ago and was instantly suspicious of him and the twins, causing Ron to have to get much better at either hiding his actions or lying about them, because he was not going to stop the pranks. He knew she’d catch on quick to the spree of pranks or his concern for their friend, but he hadn’t expected her to catch on just that fast and now he tried to avoid being alone in a room with her or risk spilling his guts to the fiery muggleborn. At least he knew he’d be unable to give the most pressing secrets to her. She’d already tried and the strict Fidelius had worked perfectly, preventing him from saying anything that could even lead her to the conclusion of the secret. It did however tell her that he had a secret and she was bound and determined to uncover it. Which meant, in typical Hermione fashion, stalking him when she wasn’t researching. And making it nearly impossible for him to get Harry alone so they could talk.
He was not looking forward to fending her off again, but at least he wasn’t alone with the secret anymore. The twins were all fine and dandy, but they had spent precious little time outside the study Sirius had granted them knowledge of and often disappeared to deal with issues the others were finding. And they were his brothers. At least he finally figured out Sirius had just forgotten adding him to the Fidelius around the study or he’d be quite sore about it. With the tales the twins spun on the rare occasion they were actually in residence and not hidden away, and only when the three of them were inside impressive privacy wards the twins assured them Arianna had taught them, Sirius was quite busy. So, it was not really surprising something had slipped his very overfull mind. Did that mean Ron wasn’t a bit jealous? Not really, but he had to accept that the twins always tended to get the bulk of their mum’s yelling. If anyone deserved a safe place, it was them. But now Harry was here and they could goof off, prank his mum, and try and forget for a bit that they were fourteen and had faced death more times together than most adults.
“Hey mate, dinner’s ready,” Ron called, knocking on the door to the Heir suite. It made him giggle thinking of Harry as an heir, let alone a full-blown lord, and he tried not to let anyone see him doing so.
“Not hungry,” came a soft voice through the wood. Ron frowned and pushed the door opened, glad Harry had allowed him access to the magically sealed room. Molly had been livid when she couldn’t even open the door.
“Harry, mate? What’s up?” he asked gently when he saw the raven-haired teen sitting on the four-poster bed, dark silk sheets a mess and the comforter wrapped around one of the posts, and staring at a picture. When Ron stepped over and took a look at it, he saw the Potters waving at him. All four of them. Harry couldn’t have been more than a few months old and Arianna was staring at the baby in her mum’s arms with such a look of love and devotion it almost hurt. It was the expression his own brothers had in the pictures he had of himself as a baby and the look he had in pictures with Ginny. Picture Arianna was beaming and pulling on Picture Harry’s toes, eliciting a mad bout of giggles from the baby and their parents. Then the picture looped. It had to have been only a few months later that Arianna had been shipped to the States for her own protection. “Oh, Harry,” he sighed, instantly understanding. “You know she’s fine. She’s written you daily since you got here, telling you all about what they’re finding in the vaults and promising to visit soon.”
“Yeah, but I still miss her,” Harry muttered, sniffing and tucking the picture into his robes gently. “I’ve not been away from her since we found each other again. And I don’t know how going back to Hogwarts is going to go if I can’t see her for months at a time.”
“If you think she’s not going to find a way to visit at least once a week, you’re barmy,” Ron said with an eye roll. He was glad he had older brothers instead of an older sister.
“If she’s so busy right now, I doubt that’s going to get better when we’re at school, and that’s a harder place to visit,” Harry pointed out.
“Oh so little faith in me, kiddo,” Arianna’s voice drawled from the doorway.
Harry was up and hugging his sister before Ron had even drawn his wand. He’d have to work on his reaction time and situational awareness…. They were heading into a war and he was discovering he was sorely unprepared, especially to stand at Harry’s side. Even if Harry didn’t want it, he would be entangled in this mess at the very center and Ron would not let him stand alone. Maybe he could get some of the Order to train him over breaks, give him things to work on in between…. Maybe Tonks? Or Kingsley.
“Ron, breathe,” Arianna teased. “You look like you’re about to have a nasty headache, thinking so hard.”
“Arse,” he muttered, making his way to the pair and smiling at Harry curled into her arms and face buried in her shoulder.
They really were just kids and Harry carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Milady, may I point out again that you are not supposed to rush off like that?” an unfamiliar voice panted from the top of the stairs.
This time, Ron was more prepared and had the Potter siblings behind the protection of his wand even before he’d turned to the unknown. Was he expecting a knight in full armor? Not really. Did it surprise him? Not so much. Arianna’s letters had mentioned something about guards hidden in the vault and tied to the Aiaia ladyship in such a way as to freeze their bodies at the age they’d invaded the vault but allow them time to heal and train for when the vault was opened. Obviously, this was one such individual and he’d been in there a while.
“This would be the personal guard of the boy, then?” the knight asked, studying Ron carefully and with interest.
“As I’ve said before, I will not wait for you, Artair, especially if you persist in wearing that armor,” Arianna said with a huff. “And no, he’s just a friend.”
“A true friend, indeed then, and might I suggest he perhaps take up the duties? He seems quite intent, even with as untrained as he is,” the knight Artair said.
“My Lady Aiaia, who might this be?” Harry asked, head resting on his sister’s shoulder but sticking to the false name they’d decided on for Arianna to use in public.
The name was old enough that few would understand its significance but would explain the power and money she wielded once researched. Though Ron was not quite sure how they’d explain her presence in Grimmauld. Only Order members were supposed to have access and, while he had no doubts Sirius would allow her in, she couldn’t exactly hide with a knight rattling after her in centuries old armor.
“This is the Head of my new Guard, Sir Artair MacGobhainn,” Arianna said, gesturing for Ron to lower his wand. “Apparently, an ancestor to Professor McGonagall.” Ron startled at that, but Arianna just shrugged. “Scotland,” she said as if that explained everything.
“How come he sounds like us then?” Harry asked before Ron could. “If he’s from a bygone time and Scotland, shouldn’t he be speaking Scots Gaelic?”
“Another spell from my ancestor, apparently. She really had quite a few protections on the vault and we’ve only been able to find out about a few. Tharos is doing his best to try and explain some of them, but he’s a dragon and they do magic differently. And the last lady didn’t use the typical magics of her time either so the curse-breakers are having a lot of fun. Bill’s in an almost constant giggle as he works, taking note of a lot of the unique spells for further research. Some of them we’re even having to leave in place because they’re the only known instance of the spell and we have no idea what it does or how it was put up. Bill said that was pretty rare, as even when they’re accessing tombs in Egypt, there’s usually a lot of research that goes into every step and only maybe one or two curses a year aren’t found written about somewhere. So, we’re focusing on sorting through the books and getting creatures ready to be moved at the moment. And I’m rambling. Sorry,” she said, trailing off at the looks of amusement the two teens were sharing. It was good to see her so enthusiastic.
“Should you be talking about all of that here?” Ron asked.
“Oh, it’s fine. Permanent privacy ward,” she said, gesturing to a rather more ornate necklace than he’d pegged her for. “Ragnok found it buried in the Peverell vault and said it was a goblin-made piece meant to act as a sort of traveling goblin meeting room. Since all of their meeting rooms are warded to the stalactites, he figured I’d appreciate the option of using it when out of the bank or the Den. No one can hear a word we’re saying if they’re not trustworthy, even if they’re standing right next to me and I’m shouting in their ear. And I dictate who’s trustworthy.”
“Wicked!” a pair of familiar voices startled everyone in the hall.
“Menaces!” Arianna greeted happily, pulling the twins to her with one arm even as she held tight to Harry with the other.
“My Lady!” they chorused, happy to hug her back tightly and enveloping Harry in the impromptu group hug.
“More guards for the boy, my Lady?” Artair asked warily.
“Of a sort,” she said cheekily, pressing a kiss to each of the twin’s foreheads as they pulled away, somehow pulling Harry with them. Ron would have to keep an eye on that, since Harry looked quite happy to go.
“Mum sent us to see where you had gotten to, since dinner’s ready,” the twins chorused together.
“Oh, joys, the cooking of Molly Weasley… Which reminds me, here, I have things for you!” Arianna said, digging in a small satchel she had slung over her chest.
“Presents?” the twins demanded, eager.
She laughed and pulled out a set of leather arm cuffs that positively gleamed in the lamps of the hall. Each was thick enough to cover almost their whole forearm, and Ron could see a set of straps along the portion intended for the underside. Ron instantly recognized them as the wand holsters she’d bought when they’d gotten their new wands. He’d admired them but hadn’t said anything, not willing to test the machinations of their benefactor, even if she was his friend’s older sister. However, whereas those had been plain, these were positively covered in runes and Ron noted the mild sheen that indicated they had potions covering them as well.
“Now, these have been altered a bit from the typical Auror ones Gregorovitch provided, but not in a bad way. I figured you lot wouldn’t want a piece of jewelry to protect you, so I had the goblins suggest some magics that could be imbibed into leather and consulted with Gregorovitch personally to ensure the magics would take without messing with his own charms. I think we’ve finally worked it out, but I want you all to test them extensively before you head back to Hogwarts.”
“And what exactly do they do?” Fred asked, taking a forest green holster eagerly and running his hands over the runes. Ron could already see his brother’s mind cycling through spells and runes, trying to place what was on his cuff.
“Poison the wearer slowly,” Arianna said, deadpan. Fred yelped and dropped the holster, only to blush and glare at the laughing woman.
“Not nice,” he muttered, picking up the holster again and going back to his inspection of it.
“As if I’d poison my favorite Wit and Wile,” she said with a scoff.
Ron groaned at the twins’ sudden interest.
“I like those,” George said.
“Much better than our own, Gred,” Fred said.
“But which is which?” they asked in unison.
“You need to ask?” Harry said with a laugh. “George is Wit, Fred is Wile,” he continued when the twins just looked at him in confusion.
“Ah to have true Marauder names!” they cheered after a moment.
“Yes, yes, now focus, you menaces. I don’t have much time to stick around and I still need to have a chat with that horrible portrait of Sirius’ mum at some point,” Arianna ordered as she handed out the rest of the holsters. Ron and Harry exchanged wary glances at that news, but decided to hold off on asking. They had no doubt they’d find out soon enough. The shouting would probably be heard at Hogwarts if the two were given enough time together. “They are spelled to protect you from hexes and jinxes, but a true curse might get through. They’re also coated in bezoar powder, so they should protect you from most potions, even if you ingest it. I’ve altered them just a bit to allow nutrition potions, but other than that, they’ll clear anything. The powder will be absorbed through your skin and cancel out anything that makes it through. Harry should have some of that naturally at this point, from the Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears in his blood. Eir didn’t want to chance any side-effects if she removed those.” Harry winced at that, unconsciously gripping his arm, and Ron scowled at the reminder of how useless he’d been that adventure. “Now, they only work if you’re wearing them, obviously, so try and get into the habit of having them on constantly. They’re water proof too, so showering shouldn’t be an issue. I’ve charmed the buckles to allow only you to remove them and you have to do so willingly. But I’d really not like to test that so please be careful.”
“You do realize we go back to Hogwarts in two weeks, right?” Ron asked, taking his carefully and trying to figure out how to put it on one handed. He’d have to get used to that.
“And that should be plenty of time for extensive testing,” she said, staring at him pointedly.
Oh, yeah. A fortnight of his mother’s cooking and visits from Dumbledore. But somewhere she could intervene if necessary. They still weren’t sure how the wards at Hogwarts would react to her, since she held three Founder houses and Harry had immediately named her proxy for the last. If Dumbledore had successfully manipulated the wards enough, they could as easily curse her as accept her.
“Right,” he said, finally getting the straps to work right and letting the holster settle on his wand arm.
It felt weird, bulky, but he knew it was more because it was new than because it was going to impede him in the long run. He slipped his new wand into the small slot and then flicked his wrist, as he’d seen some of the Aurors around do. The unicorn hair and English oak wand jumped into his hand with surprising ease and he grinned toothily. This was going to be a fun year.
“So what do we tell Sirius?” Fred asked.
“He’s been having a house elf switch our foods”
“while making the same things”
“so we don’t get potioned again.”
“Well it’s a good thing I’ve already spoken to my dogfather then, huh? He’s agreed to have the little one focus on cleaning the areas of the house the Order doesn’t know about for now and, if the cuffs prove ineffective, take over your meals again.”
“You really do think of everything,” Harry said with no small amount of awe coloring his tone.
“I have to,” Arianna muttered. “I’m not risking any of you and I’d rather do it here than at that school until I’ve had a chance to visit it. Any luck on the other two?”
There really wasn’t any question about who she was talking about. “I think Ginny’s a possible, but Percy’s definitely a yes. He turned down a promotion to the Minister’s office to take over for Crouch Sr at the Department of International Affairs. Apparently, he was the only one actually doing his job with the Tournament and the other nations basically demanded he become the permanent head.”
“I didn’t think the brainchild had it in him to turn down a connection with the minister,” George muttered.
“I think we underestimate him,” Ron admitted, loathed to admit it but unable to deny it when he looked back on his interactions with his quietest brother. “He can be a right ponse but he was beside himself when Gin was taken and he’s always looked out for us in his own way.”
“We’ll have to see, then. I’ll talk with Sirius when he’s back from his latest trip. He was muttering something about finally hunting so I’m loathed to interrupt him,” Arianna murmured. “But I do believe we’ve spent enough time talking. I’ve got meetings to get to, so the scolding for that blasted portrait will have to wait. You all need to get to dinner and try not to kill each other before the start of school, yeah?”
Ron chuckled but nodded and headed off. He did that more, laugh, and he really didn’t mind. But he still wasn’t sure how he felt about eating his mother’s cooking again. He’d gotten used to being able to trust his food…. Prank free and everything.
*****
Unbeknownst to the chatting group, a portrait listened intently to the conversation. While the protection on the necklace the woman wore was powerful, it did not distinguish between people or portraits, and the former Headmaster Black was eager to hear what the group had to say. That the protections surrounding the group saw him as a non-threat or trustworthy was a little startling, but then again, he suspected the woman had simply advised that the Black family was trustworthy, thereby including him in the acceptable category to hear the words. That he had waited a very long time to hear what he was only added to his uncharacteristic excitement.
As soon as the conversation wound down and the various members of the group dispersed to their separate tasks, he disappeared into his portrait frame.
*****
“Not to point out the obvious, my dear,” a dry voice echoed in the empty room, “but it’s been years and that has yet to work. What makes you think it will now?”
The portrait smiled a little exasperatedly at her husband’s portrait, even as the man ran again into the frame of his portrait, only to smack into the edge with a thump and enough force to have his portrait swinging dangerously on the hook keeping it on the wall.
She really didn’t want him to fall again, as the last time, he’d been stuck flat on the floor for two years before the meddling bastard had decided to check on them again. At least he’d removed all the furniture from the hidden room so there was no way to rip the ancient paintings.
Granted, that had been before they’d all summarily refused to help the bastard in his schemes, but then the man had proven too lazy to do any damage to them. Only ignore them.
“You felt it as much as I did, sunshine,” the dark haired man snarled as he stood back up in his frame, rubbing his sore nose. “There is a new Lady and I’m tired of seeing only this room. I love you all with all my heart, but I think we’ve seen enough of each other for a while, don’t you?”
“Yes, brother, because that isn’t an argument we haven’t heard before,” came the booming voice to her right.
It was beyond maddening to be unable to leave their frames. And that they were positioned as they were. She could see her husband and her sister-in-law on the opposite wall of the small stone room, but was unable to see her brother-in-law next to her. Only hear his familiar voice. She was just glad it seemed history had forgotten their connections, or she had no doubt she’d be positioned next to her husband and unable to see the familiar lines and sparks of insight in his distinctive eyes. And her sister-in-law would be in the same situation with her own husband.
“And how exactly do you expect me to just do nothing? We cannot allow that man to proceed with any of the plans he’s gloated about recently,” her husband spat when he was done inspecting his painted nose. She did not envy him the believed pain, but they were painted and he was uninjured. Ridiculous charms, really. “It’s bad enough he was able to imprison us in our own home, but to think of the pain he’s caused? The stories he’s already told? It’s no wonder the outside world is such a mess…”
“And if I wasn’t a paranoid bastard as a human, you’d know nothing of that world,” a familiar voice interjected before her brother-in-law could respond as the form of Headmaster Black appeared in her husband’s frame. “You’re lucky I charmed my portrait to be able to visit any other portrait, regardless of spells on them, or you’d be stuck with each other only.”
“Yes,” her sister-in-law said with a frustrated drawl, “and you won’t tell us the magic used to do so. As far as I know, and I know a lot, there is no charm or jinx or hex that could do what you’ve managed.”
“And I’ve told you many times, it’s family magic,” their visitor snarled, obviously fed up with her sister-in-law’s campaign to learn his secrets. “Now, do you want me to report what I’ve heard or not?”
“Yes, please,” her husband said instantly, giving a quelling look to her right and therefore at his brother.
She heard the exasperated huff from her right and just rolled her eyes. Her family was nothing but drama.
Then their visitor started explaining and she could only wiggle with excitement and anticipation. Soon. Soon they’d be free.