Chapter Text
Thursday, January 15, 1987
Azkaban Prison – North Sea
The noise was maddening, almost equally so as the presence of the foul, wraith-like wardens which patrolled such a desolate place. Screams and howls of fear, of anguish and pain the likes of which those outside the prison couldn't even begin to imagine. The rattling, cloying breaths of the Dementors which were heard over every other sound, and behind it all, the never-ending storm raging outside the walls, the wind casting the sea against the ragged shore over and over again, thunder and rain creating a roaring soundtrack.
Sirius Black wouldn't be even a bit surprised if several of the poor souls who were left to rot in Azkaban had torn at their own ears until they couldn't hear anything at all. It was tempting.
And poor souls they were, any who called the prison home for even the shortest sentence. It was a place devoid of any shred of humanity and it was the cruellest treatment any human could receive. To be dropped into one of the rotting, filth-covered cells and locked inside with their own tortured souls being shredded by the wraiths. It was the nearest thing to Hell which had ever existed on earth.. So far as Sirius was concerned, there was no crime great enough to warrant this level of brutality. A firing squad of Aurors would've been much more humane.
Padfoot helped, at first, but his wardens had learned to smell the dog, as if they could sense that he was trying to escape their punishment. These days, if he bothered to take his canine form for even a single second they would know, and they'd make him pay for it for weeks afterwards. They'd post a ravenous sentry outside his door day and night until his mind and his soul were in tatters. There was no empathy in these creatures, only hunger and evil.
They'd make him live in his own guilt – his guilt for the switch, which cost his brother's life. The guilt of seeing Lily's tear-stained face as he was dragged from the Ministry in chains because of his own rash mistakes. The guilt of leaving Harry behind…
The sobs came easily, his raw throat feeling as if it were tearing at the sound, and yet they could barely be heard over the madness around him. Forcing them away with a torturous scream, Sirius tried to reclaim his thoughts from the Dementors who'd stolen them in his moment of clarity. He had to hold on just a bit longer...
Clenched tightly in his hand, he attempted to roll over and stare at the single thing he'd been allowed to keep upon his incarceration. It was slipped to him by Moody during his transport to the prison - a gift from Lily for carrying their revenge, and an apology for not being able to get him free of the charges. The photo was faded nearly beyond recognition, wrinkled horribly from years of clenching his fists around it and was now mostly white covered in filth. Still, even if the image was nearly gone and even after the passage of so much time he knew exactly what it showed. It showed them – Prongs and Harry and Lily. It showed Padfoot and Moony, and then the image cut off abruptly where the rat had been torn out.
They'd be laughing as Harry sat on his dad's back, Lily helping steady him and being overly cautious of the sharp antlers. Moony would have his hands in his pockets, and nearly get knocked over as Padfoot charged through the opening between his legs. The rat was supposed to be scurrying toward them, but no longer.
As the image played through again, even if only in his head, he felt another wretched sob tear itself from his chest. And then another, and another. Soon, he was crying uncontrollably once again, his tears stinging at his eyes and unable to stop the hacking sobs which wracked his entire body. Uncaring of himself, Sirius lifted his head and brought it crashing down into the jagged stone floor. The pain didn't help him focus though, it never did, and instead he just hurt even more while his heart threatened to rip itself through his chest. His cries rose in volume, until they turned once more to screams matching the anguish of the rest of the prisoners.
Another morning dawned over Azkaban Prison, and it was nearing breakfast time.
Finally, after years of torment (just over a month), Harry Potter was free. The stunt he'd pulled with Gred and Forge when they hopped over to Hogwarts landed them all in more trouble than ever before, and he'd had a choice to make. His mum and Aunt Romi wanted him to stop being a marauding scoundrel - instead, Harry quietly resolved himself to simply not be caught doing so. Sounded like fair play, really. So long as he wasn't caught his mum couldn't get mad, and he could continue with his mission in secrecy without losing his privileges.
Harry hadn't seen or heard from the twins aside from a single slip of parchment which confirmed that they were still alive, ferried between them by Dobby before the adults shut that avenue down as well. Even his mum's owl had been turned against them, and Circe merely stared at him when he'd tried to have her sneak a care package filled with the last of his hidden sweets and pranks to them. They'd had a glaring contest, but the stubborn bird refused to move. Errol was, by contrast, notoriously unreliable, and had been known to collapse mid-delivery, so he wasn't sure if the twins had tried to contact him at all.
He'd already decided to get an owl of his own. Those two were useless and conspired with their enemies.
However, that was all secondary to the fact that he was once more allowed to fly. Despite the near-frigid January weather which had driven the herd of unicorns into the stables near the forest, the recent, thick layer of snow and the general greyness of the sky, he'd not waited an instant before taking his broom on a proper flight. He'd long since graduated from his training brooms, and now was allowed to take his dad's old Nimbus 1200 around the property. The braking charms were still as good as ever, and it was a classic which was still seeing use in Division 3 Quidditch so it was the perfect choice for his return to the sky.
Harry welcomed himself back gleefully, whipping past the greenhouses and soaring over the maze of hedges. He made several laps around the house, and knowing that his mum couldn't see him from his current position - she was watching from the massive windows in the west hall while pouring through a literal library of parchment - Harry pulled back sharply and climbed straight upwards. The air got colder and more crisp the higher he flew, and when he'd decided he had enough space he inverted himself with a quick push against the nose of the broom while rolling to his left.
The horizon flipped, and suddenly he was screaming toward the ground, eyes watering behind his glasses from the combination of cold and wind which was tearing at his face. His mum told him he wasn't allowed to dive in such a way, and in keeping with his new resolve he'd decided that it only counted if he got caught.
Harry was good on a broom, always had been, and he'd been flying tiny training brooms since he was a year old. Some of his earliest photos of him with his parents showed him whipping around their old cottage, chasing the cat while his dad laughed in the background. The sky was, to him, exactly where he was meant to be.
He pulled out of the dive smoothly, shifting his grip and adjusting his weight to activate the braking charms even as he slowly and steadily pulled against the handle to level out. It seemed to terrify his mum every single time, but he'd never even seen her fly so she probably didn't know how. She didn't realise just how easy it was, and how there really wasn't a chance he was going to crash while he was so focused. The broom could feel exactly what he intended, and it only got wonky if you were nervous and didn't really know what you wanted. If you were confused and not sure which direction you wanted to go, then the broom would be confused too. Simple enough.
He made certain to pass by the west hall a second time so his mum could see that he wasn't splattered on the ground somewhere, and then looped back around to the south to fly over the pitch - maybe his favourite feature of the entire house, despite its general lack of use. Lily wouldn't let him have a real Quidditch game yet, claiming Bludgers were too dangerous, but he already had the full kit.
Harry's thick leather robes were insulated for warmth and for cushioning against a crash, strapped tight around his chest and flared past the waist to disrupt the opponent's sight and positioning from behind. He'd got a new pair of Seeker's gloves for Christmas from Dora, ensuring his grip and dexterity with his fingers. Tall boots with several straps around his shins ensured proper support and placement on the footpegs, as well as leather trousers for extra protection and comfort against the broom itself. Naturally, everything was blue and gold (Puddlemere colours) so Harry could pretend he was flying for his favourite club. He'd even convinced Mrs Weasley to stitch his dad's old Quidditch number - Number 7, same as Benjy Williams - onto the back with 'Potter' over top of it in brilliant gold lettering.
Molly liked to knit things, he supposed, and her jumpers were brilliant in the winter. She'd done a perfect job on his Quidditch robes, and he'd just got a new jumper a few weeks ago at Christmas as well - it was waiting for him when he decided to go inside and warm up.
Still making laps around the property, Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself when he noticed an odd sight from over top of the house. There was a man coming through the front gate - an oddity, as most people who knew where they lived simply used the floo - and he was just sort-of...standing there. He'd passed through the gate, and was staring at the house but not approaching. Harry wondered if it was a muggle who got lost or something, but that was crossed from his mind quickly as the man was obviously wearing proper clothing. A wizard, then.
As he was now the man of the house according to the portraits, it was Harry's duty to make sure the bloke wasn't up to no good. He rotated his broom, narrowing his eyes, and began his flight to cut him off before he got to the main doors.
The stranger still hadn't moved by the time Harry reached the front of the house, and the boy slowly lowered himself down near the central fountain in the front drive, keeping his distance as he'd obviously been spotted. He was a shabby-looking sort, though not unclean, and had a thick grey winter cloak which was showing a few holes in it tossed over the rest of his clothes. His hood wasn't up despite the cold, and the man had his hair combed neatly, though his face was rather scruffy as if he hadn't shaved for a bit.
The man was staring at him strangely, sort-of wide eyed and puzzled for a moment, before finally nodding slightly. Something about his face looked familiar, though Harry couldn't place it. Maybe he'd seen him in an old photo or something.
"Good morning," the man called, seemingly hesitant.
"Alright, mate?" Harry replied, eyeing the man shrewdly once more. "Seem a bit lost, yeah?"
"Not lost, just…" the man started, before smiling strangely. "I suppose you're right. I was lost for a while. You...you likely don't know me, do you?"
"Nah," Harry answered, shrugging from his place atop his broom. "You do look familiar, though. What's your name?"
"I'm...my name is Remus Lupin," he said after a moment. "I was a friend of your father, and your mother after a fashion."
Harry's eyebrows raised slightly - that name was familiar. "Moony?" he asked. "One of dad's old mates?"
Remus was still wearing that same sort-of sad smile. "The very same," he agreed. "It's, well, it's been a long time since I was here, and since I saw you, Harry."
"I'll say," Harry agreed, still surprised at the man's identity. He had seen him in old photos - loads of them - though he always looked a bit younger. It looked as if he'd aged twice as much as his mum in the same amount of time. Moony was in his parents' wedding photos, his dad's school photos, even a few with Harry himself when he was young. He was also a staple in some of the old stories from his dad's school days. "Mum'll be glad to see you, I reckon. She's always going on about seeing old friends."
Remus nodded. "I truly hope my arrival isn't a burden to her."
"Eh?" Harry muttered. "She's buried under a mountain of parchment and books at the moment. You'd likely be saving her from the looks of it. Sad life, she's got. All she does is study and read and have meetings. Never any fun except when I drag her to Quidditch games."
And that was the honest truth. For nearly two months now all she'd done was read and study, seemingly searching every single document she could get her hands on. Making lists, pinning parchment together in some odd fashion which really didn't make sense to Harry at all. She claimed to have some massive project in the works - probably a potion or something, he thought - and she'd made little time for anything else. She'd even cut down on her time in France so that she could work on...whatever she was doing.
She was due to leave for a meeting that very afternoon, in fact.
Remus laughed quietly. "I suppose that wouldn't sound like much fun to you, though I hear her studies have made her quite famous these past years."
"I suppose," Harry allowed. "People are always sending post. Dozens of letters every week, it's like an owlery around here. She even had to make a special box for them to drop in and sort them all out."
"Well, if it's no trouble for you I believe we should attempt to rescue her, then," Remus replied, though he still seemed...nervous, or something.
"Yeah, alright. Cold out here anyway," Harry answered. He was looking forward to hot chocolate and a Weasley jumper. The wind was picking up again and the Prophet was claiming it was supposed to be dry and warm, which likely meant snow for the afternoon.
Harry lowered himself fully to the ground, taking a slight enjoyment from disturbing the fresh white powder which hadn't yet been walked on and slinging his Nimbus over his shoulder. Together he and Remus trudged through the snow drifts which were just over his ankles - dragging his feet to disturb as much as possible - and made their way to the stairs at the front. It was Harry's approach, not Remus', which allowed the large redwood doors to open automatically and admit them entrance. A rush of warm air from inside the house greeted the pair of them immediately, and Harry heard Remus sigh quietly at the sensation. Man looked like he needed it, to be fair.
"Mum's in the west hall, near the window," Harry explained, as the main entrance they'd used was in the north wing.
The layout of Ravenhill was quite simple, really, though Harry didn't know if the man knew it well. The east wing was for formal occasions and held the ballroom and the largest drawing room, as well as the formal dining areas and, upstairs, the guest bedrooms. The north wing, then, held his mum's office (right near the edge of the east wing entrance) and an informal dining area, as well as the potions lab and the entrance to the basement where it was mostly storage and kitchens. The library was on the second floor of the north wing and stretched toward the third floor as well. The south wing was where the Hall of Honor was and the main offices for Potter family business, as well as the trophy room and the entrance to the duelling hall which hadn't been used for a while. Finally, the west wing held the main family parlour, dining area and living quarters, covered all three floors, and was generally restricted against guests unless they were close friends.
Harry figured Remus likely counted as a 'close friend', and if not his mum could shoo him out or whatever.
He led him through the entrance hall and to the right, down the wide corridor toward the doors of the west hall. They were normally closed and locked if they had guests, but Harry found them open. He quickly led the shabby wizard through them and into the wide open space of the main parlour, which boasted a large fireplace and massive windows stretching the entire first and second story, almost like a lodge or something. Outside the windows the view was like something out of a picture, showing a large stretch of the property leading up to the Holly trees, and everything covered with fresh snow.
His mum was there, seated on the floor in front of the fireplace and surrounded by thousands of pieces of parchment which were spilling from boxes as well as books both modern and ancient. Her work was normally kept to her office, but she'd claimed she needed fresh scenery and had moved all of it to the parlour. She glanced up at his entrance, and did a sort-of double take as she seemingly locked eyes with Remus, her green eyes (same as Harry's) wide and startled.
"Got company," Harry announced the obvious. "Found him out front by the gate, one of dad's old mates."
"Thank you, Harry," Remus said, seemingly amused and nervous at the same time. "Lily, it's been quite some time."
His mum seemed frozen for an instant, but she eventually relaxed and seemed to deflate slightly. "It has, Remus. It's been years."
"I...I know," he said, his expression turning sad again like it had before. "I wasn't sure if I should even...I wondered if it'd been too long, if I should even come at all, if I'd be welcome…"
"Don't be daft, Moony," Lily said quietly, almost the same tone she'd use to chide Harry when he was out of line. "You're always welcome here. James wouldn't have it any other way, and neither will I."
"Fancy a hot chocolate?" Harry asked the older man, unsure why they were both acting weird but he'd been getting good and cold waiting for a cup. He'd earned it, really. "Dobby makes the best, with cream on top and peppermint sticks."
"Go upstairs and change your robes, Harry. You're dripping all over the floors," his mum said before the man could answer. "I'll have a cup waiting for you when you come back down."
He knew that tone - when adults wanted to speak without him hearing - but Harry didn't care much to be honest. Sometimes their conversations were worth spying on, but mostly they were boring. He simply darted across the parlour and through the doors on the other side, into the adjoining room with the staircase off the family dining area. His room was on the second floor and used to be his dad's when he was young. His mum's room was down the hall from him, and she never really said why she didn't use the massive master suite on the top floor. It'd been empty since his grandparents died.
He took the exit on the landing of the second floor, and his room was the third on the left. The door opened to show it mostly decorated how his dad left it. Gryffindor red and gold for the bed hangings and the curtains, the sheets and the pillows. There was a large, thick red rug which was tucked partially under the bed and stopped his feet getting cold in the mornings from the bare wood, and scattered throughout were his toys and collections. The small dragon figurines were still laying siege to the castle where he'd left them, the harmless fire lighting up the far corner of the room with brilliant orange flashes of light.
The beasts would never succeed - the wizards within the castle were too powerful.
He propped his broom against the wall and made for the separate wardrobe room to the side which held all of his clothes, and the switch was a relatively quick one. Off came the Quidditch robes and into the linen basket - where they disappeared immediately - and he dug out his blue Weasley jumper and casual trousers, throwing a loose outer robe over top of it all. How muggles walked around without robes honestly baffled him.
"Charming as always, Mister Potter," the female voice of his mirror spoke from the back of the wardrobe room. "The blue sweater brings more colour to your eyes. If we're dressing for warmth, might I suggest the Demiguise fur slippers?"
That'd be nice, if he could find the blasted things. They'd been a birthday gift from Old Saint Nick over in France, but they had a tendency to turn invisible as soon as he went looking for them. He'd only catch sight of them when he was looking for something else. A practical prank gift - the very best kind, really. They also turned his feet invisible, which made for a humorous and odd sight whenever he actually got to wear them.
Instead of wasting time searching - hot chocolate was waiting, after all - Harry snatched up his normal slippers and darted back out of the room. He noticed his broom was gone from where he'd left it and cursed his own rotten luck. He'd only ridden it indoors once, and now when he brought it inside his mum made Dobby send it to the broom shed out back immediately. With a put upon sigh, Harry once more descended the staircase and approached the parlour.
"-could've used a wizard's influence all these years, Moony," his mum was saying, and Harry stopped so that he could lurk just around the corner from the door. "It's been hard for everyone, but...everything broke immediately. Sirius isn't allowed visitors, not even for the holidays. James is gone...everyone's gone, really, and I still made it work. It's not me who needs your apology. You never owed me anything, and you still don't. If you want to apologise to anyone, then give it to Harry."
Hard luck, Remus was having. Harry had found himself on the opposite end of that tone enough to know his mum was upset but firm, and she wouldn't be budged an inch. He honestly didn't know why Remus would have to apologise to him, but if he did so then Harry would do his best to bail the poor sod out. What'd she mean about visitors for Uncle Siri…?
"I understand, truly, I do," Remus replied, his tone quiet. "I didn't know about everything until later, and by then I felt as if I'd already left enough wreckage behind me. I wasn't reading the papers, I wasn't taking post, I just sort-of...faded into the muggle world for a while. It was months before I heard about Sirius or Peter-"
"Don't say his name," his mum said quickly, almost harshly. "Harry doesn't...we haven't talked about any of that. Everything with that name on it, with his face on it's been burned. Sirius was right, you know. The fact that he was out walking around, unharmed and hiding from us...he deserves what he got."
Who was Peter? Harry knew all about Uncle Siri.
Uncle Siri had gone away for a while, and wasn't due back from his travels for several years. His mum told him that he was like a brother to his dad, and how even up to the very end he'd managed to prove it. She said that after his dad's death Siri had to take some time away, but that he'd come back one day. He was Harry's Godfather, and had been there right from his birth. There were photos of him and Harry together, enough of them to stuff an album full, and nearly every single story about his dad had Siri included in some fashion.
"Of...of course," Remus answered. "I just never really wanted to believe it, I suppose."
"I'm sorry, Remus, but we don't get to live in a fantasy, not any of us," his mum said more softly. "The truth is the truth, even if we don't like it. And even with all of that, I'm glad you're here. You don't even have to ask, and you can stay for as long as you like. And if you need some time alone to work through your grief, I understand that too. Just don't bail on us again."
"Thank you, Lily. James always said you were the best of us," Remus replied. "I've still been getting the potion, you know. You don't likely understand exactly how much that's meant to me over the years, the gift of sanity and reason even on the darkest nights."
"I do understand that, of course I do.," Lily answered sympathetically.
Boring potions talk again - Harry had heard enough. He quickly ducked into the room, the name 'Peter' still spinning in his head, and pretended as if he'd just come downstairs. "Couldn't find my slippers, they've gone invisible again," he lied easily. It was a skill he and the twins were slowly honing to a razor-sharp edge. They needed to be able to lie and get away with it, naturally, and so they'd been practising how to come up with them on the spot.
"Have you ever thought to just...put them in a drawer?" his mum asked sarcastically. "Then, even if they were invisible, you could always find them."
Yeah...that made a large amount of sense, and he'd never admit it.
"That wouldn't be any fun. Finding them's the whole point of it all," he lied once more. He quickly spied his hot chocolate steaming away on the end table, and lurched for it. The first sip was divine, and the faint hint of peppermint from the little red-and-white candy stick made the entire thing ten times better. "Merlin, what's Dobby hiding in this stuff?"
"Sugar," his mum answered flatly. "Likely far too much of it."
"Dobby!" Harry called, watching as his little friend appeared in an instant and, for once, dressed properly. He was happy to see that the elf was beginning to take his advice and wear something besides a pillowcase, even if it was just a child-sized yellow robe. "Dobby, mate, you've outdone yourself again. It is time. Please kneel."
Dobby looked up at him with shining, bright eyes the size of tennis balls, and seemed to be nearly holding his breath. He knelt gracefully, bowing his head while Harry brandished the little candy stick from his drink like a wand. He tapped one shoulder with it, and then the other. "From this moment forth, you are now a full member of the Marauding Gentleman's Club, and no longer just an operative. Meetings are whenever we aren't in trouble, and naturally, you'll be expected to show up with your blazer and your unlimited magical powers."
"Harry Potter is a great wizard!" Dobby exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "Dobby is being honoured to be in Harry Potter's Club!"
"Then it's settled, yeah?" Harry said, grinning. "Only...make sure to bring hot chocolate with you, along with your unlimited magical power and your blazer."
"Yes sir!" Dobby answered seriously, showing the nice, crisp salute Harry had taught him some time ago. He very nearly poked out his own eye, but it looked good.
"What, exactly, am I witnessing here?" Remus asked, amused.
"You're witnessing history, mate," Harry answered easily. "The Marauding Gentlemen are, as of this moment, unstoppable. House-elf magic is the best sort of magic, gets around all the pesky rules and such. Just you wait, Dobby's going to be the house-elf King one day."
"House-elves don't have Kings, Harry," his mum said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Well then he'll be the first, won't he?" Harry responded, grinning as the little elf looked up in amazement at him. "Just wait till we're off to Hogwarts, Dobby. They have loads of elves. It'll be the start of your very own kingdom, and you'll rule from a castle even. We'll build you a throne in the Great Hall if you like."
"Dobby isn't going to Hogwarts with you, either," said Lily firmly.
Harry privately thought she was quite wrong about that, but he'd just gotten out of trouble so it was best to keep his silence.
Rosemoore Estate, Cambridge
Later that same afternoon, while Harry was staying with Romi and getting to know Remus a little better, Lily Potter exited the floo with a careful step and found herself in the foyer of what she knew to be Baron Greengrass' stately home in Cambridge. Her initial impression of the room she'd found herself in was one of a delicate balance between taste and wealth, and she found it to be quite pleasant, slightly better lit and brighter than the foyer back home in Ravenhill. The runes on the mantle made certain that she didn't carry any soot with her into the tidy space when she stepped out of the fireplace, and as a by-product they also ensured that her dark purple – nearly black – robes were left pristine just as she'd entered.
The room itself was meant to impress, as it was the receiving area for guests of various status including high-born aristocrats as well as foreign diplomats and wealthy merchants. Baron Cyrus Greengrass was the British Emissary to the European Trading Alliance, and while Lily didn't know the full meaning of that title, she understood enough to know that it was a position of great importance to the Ministry and Wizarding Britain as a whole, one which facilitated the trading of goods and services from international sources.
The foyer was deceptively bright as they'd used light coloured marble for the walls, along with a floor-to-ceiling window to her right partially covered by pale green curtains. The floors were dark, nearly like glass, while the tasteful decorations of fresh pink and red roses held in an ancient-looking vase and sat atop a table seemed to break the length of the room up. This ensured that it didn't appear overly long, though it stretched for several metres before opening up into a larger room with a grand staircase.
"Lady Potter, I presume?" asked the portrait on the wall adjacent to the fireplace. It displayed a finely dressed older gentleman set into a decorative frame. Beneath the portrait was a plaque naming him as Lord Reginald Gamp, former Steward of House Greengrass.
"I am," she answered politely, not really used to being greeted by a portrait. "I have an afternoon meeting scheduled with Baron Greengrass."
"Of course, milady. He's already been notified of your arrival and will only be a moment," Gamp answered. He then proceeded to assume a pose which could possibly mimic a muggle painting, falling completely still and silent.
Unsure exactly what to do with herself at the moment, Lily took another step into the room, her hand brushing against the large flask within her robe pocket. Cyrus had responded to her letter the previous evening, though he hadn't clarified whether her elixir worked or if he'd even given it to Astoria. He'd merely done as she requested and sent a short note back with his thanks, as well as his floo address and an offer to meet with her at half-one.
She could admit only within her own mind that she was rather nervous of the outcome, as this would be the first time any of her personal creations with Alchemy were given to another person. Master Flamel told her to begin crafting a Strengthening Elixir for the young girl. He'd refused to give her a recipe, and instead wanted her to create one herself based on the very specific symptoms of the curse, as well as with the knowledge that it would need to work against ritualistic natural magic.
It was, truthfully, one of the easiest projects she'd so far attempted. Her knowledge of both potions as well as the root symptoms she was trying to alleviate took care of the bulk of the research normally required for the draught, and all that was left was to find a way to use Alchemy to bind them into a single substance. She'd used a normal Strengthening Solution as the base potion to bolster the physical health of the girl, and then used Alchemy to enhance it by adding both Essence of Dittany for the curse damage as well as the Invigoration Draught for the weakness and fatigue.
The binding agent she'd used was a single pinch of Phoenix ash - a suggestion which Master Flamel had made with a very peculiar look in his eye. It was a substance which mixed well with all three, and which would add an extra warming and soothing effect to the final solution, while also creating a limited immunity to natural magic. Phoenixes didn't follow the normal rules of nature, of life and death, and so they were excellent for counteracting magic which was present in nature itself.
The result was a bright orange elixir which Master Flamel had immediately – much to her alarm – taken a dose of himself before she'd even tested it. He'd swished it around his cheeks for a moment before swallowing, and had declared it 'passable'. Now, as Lily stood in the Baron's foyer, she was to see the final results of her first, original work.
Footsteps could be heard descending the grand staircase, and Lily turned to see the Baron just as he reached the bottom, crossing the room with long strides though they appeared unhurried. "Lady Potter," he greeted, pausing once he reached her and offering a slight bow of his head. "Apologies for the wait. Ordinarily one of our staff would've been here to greet you, though unfortunately they're all busy preparing for an event I'm hosting this evening."
His tone was warm, and his expression was slightly more open than she'd seen it before at their first meeting. Lily hoped that meant her work was a success. Still, she hadn't waited at all, really, and if he considered that a failing then she wondered exactly who he was used to entertaining that they might care for such things. "It was no trouble, truly," she assured. "I was just admiring your lovely home."
The man smiled, reaching out to shake her hand softly, obviously used to a similar compliment. "Rosemoore has been a treasure of the family for many generations, though I must say that the richer and bolder tones of Ravenhill are a good match for her. The small portion I saw of it brought to mind some of the truly beautiful chalets my father used to visit in the Alps."
"Not something I can truly take credit for, all things considered, but thank you," she responded. She'd been coached by Romi over the last several years on similar interactions, the flowery compliments and the game of words which were often exchanged. Even so, she'd done her research on him as much as she could, and she didn't want to speak about his father at all - the late Marcus Greengrass who she knew had once worn a mask for fun until Moody caught up to him.
That was the case far too often, however, and even her best friend had family who'd stood across from her in the war. It was difficult, but over the years everyone was forced to understand that after a civil war, it was unavoidable that they'd have to interact with people who were relatives - or even members - of their former enemies on both sides. Lily didn't know where Cyrus stood on the issue, but it would be foolish to assume that just because his father was a Death Eater, then he must be one as well. Harry was - and she nearly winced at the thought - currently entrusted to the sister of his father's murderer.
"If you'll walk with me, then we can adjourn to my office," he said, holding a hand out for her to proceed, and then falling in step next to her. "Astoria should be waiting for us there, though I make no oath to that. Ever since she took the elixir she's been moving about the house with a sense of freedom she's never known before."
That simple sentence sent a thrill of victory through her, though she couldn't allow it to show openly. "It's helped, then? To mitigate the symptoms?" she asked, smiling at the man as she continued to follow him down the corridor.
His own expression turned into something resembling a smirk. "Forgive me, but didn't you say you'd know?" he asked, nearly causing her step to falter. He laughed quietly, assuring her he meant it as a joke. "Yes, it did work, and better than I could've possibly hoped. The effect was immediate, and only seemed to grow stronger by the hour until it levelled off…around midnight. She remained energised, might I add, until the early hours of the morning."
Lily did wince then - that'd be the Invigoration Draught. She'd been so excited to help the girl, to relieve her suffering, that she hadn't thought about that aspect when she sent it late in the evening. "Apologies," she muttered. "There is an element to the elixir to ease her fatigue and weariness, and because of that...it's likely best to give her further doses in the morning or early afternoon."
"Lady Potter, I assure you, a sleepless night is a very small price to pay for what you've provided," the man said sincerely. "For the first time, my mother and I shared breakfast while watching my daughters play together like sisters. There is no price which can be placed upon a gift such as that. This way please, just down the corridor and to the left."
"Thank you," Lily answered, following his direction and quite unsure of what to say at that moment. She tried to imagine what that may be like - for her child to be unable to even play as children do - and she found that she couldn't, not really.
They travelled down a well-decorated and wide hallway which was lined with portraits, though many of them were merely landscapes with only the occasional witch or wizard displayed. Soft benches for sitting and even a pedestal with a beautiful Fabergé egg which was a light emerald in colour and glistened with precious stones.
"A gift to my mother from the Russian Minister," Cyrus remarked, apparently paying extremely close attention to her. "Just in here, if you please."
He led her into a wide room which had a deep charcoal carpet and dark furniture. The walls were cream, and he seemed to have decorated it with a more modern theme, where the rest of the house had seemed to carry hints of Roman architecture. The office gave the impression of professionalism and perhaps masculinity – something which was a recurring theme with wizards, she'd found. Everything was clean and sharp, and he had a display of what she assumed were fine whiskeys in crystal decanters along one wall, and a glass cabinet which displayed an array of cigars. There was a single window with a curtain mostly covering it, and next to it in the corner was a bronze owl perch.
However, what immediately took her attention was the tiny girl who was standing on what was obviously her father's chair behind the desk, folding a thick piece of parchment with her tongue comically sticking from the corner of her lips. She was frail, there was no other way to describe her, with dark brown hair past her shoulders and a rather petite build. She looked thin, and yet her eyes were alight as she seemingly focused on her task.
Cyrus, however, had stopped and closed his eyes for a brief instant. "Astoria, where's your sister? And please tell me that isn't the...it is. You're folding the official-" he paused, sighing rather than continuing to berate her.
It was a struggle not to snort with laughter, but Lily was just able to keep her composure from committing such a horrible faux pas which she understood may offend a man like Cyrus. It was humorous, but even more so because Harry had managed to similarly embarrass her when they met before. At least Astoria hadn't gone to the Scottish Highlands, while also making a horrible impression on her future Professors.
"I'm makin' a duck," she said in response, not even bothering to look at them.
Cyrus seemed to take a deep breath, before approaching and gingerly prying the - likely very important - document from her hands. His wand dropped subtly into his palm from his sleeve, and he tapped the parchment, straightening it back out so that it was flat and crisp. His daughter seemed to find it offensive, and Lily could nearly see the tantrum which was getting ready to happen before her eyes. "I'll transfigure a piece of parchment into a real duck, if you kindly allow Lady Potter to have a look at you."
Bribery - not a method she preferred, but usually effective anyway. It worked, as the girl suddenly grinned brightly at him, and Lily realised Astoria could likely get whatever she wanted from the man. Spoiled, perhaps, but she couldn't fault him for it. To Cyrus, she was likely similar to a fragile glass figurine, and the fear of losing her had likely affected their entire relationship.
Lily winced as the tiny girl leaped from the chair and her father looked as if he may actually have a heart attack. His eyes widened fully, his expression clearer than she'd seen it, and Astoria landed in a crouch on the carpeted floor before suddenly springing back upright. It appeared her elixir was truly working, though she'd prefer if the girl didn't risk injuring herself further. The curse most certainly wasn't gone - merely the symptoms suppressed.
"How about I have a look at you now, and then you can get back to having fun, hm?" Lily asked, glancing at Cyrus and noticing his small nod, even as he was seemingly collecting himself from the scare. "I also have some more medicine for you to help you keep feeling well." Lily removed the large flask from her pocket, and Astoria's eyes widened at the sight of it happily. Though she didn't look it, she was actually nearly five and clearly old enough to understand that it was thanks to the elixir that she was feeling better.
"Are you a Healer?" she asked.
Lily gave a sort of half-nod. "Something like that, I suppose. If that's how you'd like to think of me, that's perfectly fine with me. I just need to look you over and make sure everything's fine, then you can return to playing as you were, with your father's permission of course."
Astoria nodded eagerly, and Lily placed the elixir on a table to her right before approaching and kneeling down. The child seemed to present herself, holding her arms out and standing up straight in a sharp, quick motion. "Excellent," Lily praised. "Just try to take it easy at first and don't get too forceful. Now, let's have a look."
The girl was slim - too slim - and slightly short for her age, though all she really had to base that upon was Harry at a similar age. Lily looked at her eyes, which were slightly dilated, and then at her fingertips which appeared to have some of the fingernails chewed on. She wouldn't need to look at anything beneath her robes - she certainly wasn't qualified for that - but instead tried to search out any obvious bruising or injuries. There wasn't any she could see, and aside from her diminutive size and slightly dilated eyes, she looked perfectly fine at a glance.
"She looks slightly flushed," Lily remarked, glancing at Cyrus. "Is that common with her condition? I don't recall anything in the file about it."
He shook his head negatively. "That only came about with the elixir. Normally she's quite pale and complains that she can't stay warm, however something within the elixir seemed to heat her up, and also produce the light flush to her skin."
The girl looked at her questioningly, and Lily offered her a smile. "That's probably because it has magic from a Phoenix in it," she explained. "Did her mother have a similar symptom? Unable to stay warm?"
"No, at least not to the same extent," he said, frowning slightly. "Do you think that's relevant? I always assumed that it was because she's small and thin."
Lily nodded briefly. "As my Master might say, everything's relevant. Has she taken Vitamix before?"
"The Healer at St Mungo's claimed it wouldn't help, that her condition wouldn't allow the potion to prove results given the eventual track the curse will take," he answered.
Lily frowned, shaking her head. "That isn't true at all. Her condition is taxing and degenerative, but it does so magically. All Vitamix does is replace any nutrients which aren't already provided by her diet. If she has a bad day and doesn't feel up to eating, the potion could theoretically give her all she needs for the day, though it isn't a solution for more than a single day or two. It can't replace actual sustenance, but the potion certainly can't hurt anything. I give it to my son every day, without fail. This way if he loads up on sweets he still gets a balanced nutritional intake."
The man's jaw flexed once, but he nodded in apparent agreement. Lily wondered silently if he'd be paying a visit to St Mungo's very soon.
"If you'll allow me, I'll have Dobby bring her some from my personal stock. It's slightly more potent than what you'd find in an apothecary due to my brewing methods, and it'll definitely make a difference," Lily offered, purposefully not commenting on the fact that the Healer who told him that should be sacked. They likely thought Astoria's case was hopeless after the fate of her mother and didn't even bother trying.
"Of course," he said, agreeing with a distinct sense of gratitude. "Though since it isn't related to Alchemy, I'll be paying full price for this. I won't accept anything less."
Lily nodded, knowing she'd already pushed his pride to the limits with her refusal to take payment. "A seven-day supply at J. Pippin's costs roughly 10 galleons and 3 sickles. Call it 40 galleons for the month, as I typically brew it in large quantities."
"A hundred galleons for the month, and brew a double-batch to supply Daphne as well," Cyrus countered. "You said yours is slightly more potent, which makes up the difference for the extra twenty galleons. This also should compensate you for your extra time brewing more, as well as the elixir you've already supplied."
Lily wanted to argue that it didn't take extra time to brew more, simply a larger crystal chalice, and that the elixir was free. Still, she wasn't going to insult his pride in front of his daughter, so she agreed. "I'll call for him now, if you don't mind, and give you enough for the week until I brew a full month's batch. You can send the payment to the Potter account through Gringotts."
Agreement made, she called for Dobby.
He arrived wearing a dark navy blazer over a bright yellow robe and a monocle of all things, which was far too small for his large eyes and he was forced to squint harshly to keep it in place.
"Dobby," she said through clenched teeth, ignoring the strange looks she was receiving. "Did Harry tell you to wear that? You know what, never mind. Please go into my lab and get fourteen of the Vitamix vials from the cupboard."
"Yes, Miss Lily," he said - very formally and oddly offering a deep, sweeping bow - and then popped away.
"Excuse him," Lily muttered, blushing faintly as Astoria giggled behind her hand at the strange elf. "He..erm.."
"Another adventure from the young heir, shall I take it?" Cyrus asked humorously
"Likely, and we just as likely don't want to know," Lily admitted, feeling as if a piece of her dignity had left along with the house-elf.
He returned quickly, still oddly dressed, and handed her a small basket lined with velvet, several clinking vials within it. He was gone within a moment, but still lingered enough for Astoria to get another giggle from the sight of him. She double checked each one of them, taking note of her own seal on the vial and the dates which marked when it was brewed, before placing them back within the basket and leaving it on the table.
"Well," Lily said, standing. "I suppose I've seen enough. Other than encouraging her to take it easy and not get overly-active, my advice would be to take a dose of the elixir in the morning along with the Vitamix at breakfast time. If she begins feeling returning symptoms, another dose in the afternoon is perfectly fine, though perhaps be aware of the timing so that she still gets a good night's rest. Make sure she drinks the whole vial of Vitamix - Daphne as well - and as for the elixir, a single mouthful should do just fine."
"Thank you for this, truly," Cyrus said, offering her a slight bow of his head. "I hope you don't mind if I owl you in the future regarding Astoria's condition under the effects of the elixir."
"Not at all, I prefer if you do, actually," said Lily. "I especially want to know if it loses effectiveness for whatever reason, and also when she begins running low so that I can supply more. The information I was able to gather will likely inform you more regarding that."
"Of course," he agreed, his gaze seeming to sharpen. "I have a small amount of information as well, though it isn't concrete. Merely speculation at this point. Allow me to escort Astoria to another room and we can have our discussion."
Lily agreed, curious as to what he may have learned, and offered the tiny child another smile as her father escorted her from the room.
"Bye Miss Healer!" Astoria called, and Lily winced as she realised she never introduced herself properly to her 'patient'. Some bedside manner she had.
Cyrus likely didn't take her far, because he returned very quickly and closed the door behind him. "Please have a seat," he offered, holding his hand out to a high-backed leather chair in front of his desk. Lily did so, thanking him once more, and he used that same movement as before which seemed quick but unhurried to move around his desk and take his own chair. He'd no more taken his seat when a tea tray appeared at the edge of the desk, no doubt by means of a house-elf though Lily hadn't seen it. "While I would normally be quite happy to engage in the usual pleasantries, I will admit that I find myself eager to hear what it is that you've found."
"Of course," she said, nodding. "A matter of importance regarding one's child can be difficult to set aside in favour of formalities. It's a position I can certainly respect."
That, and she'd prefer to avoid all of the formalities anyway. While she'd sort-of learned them, she certainly wasn't practised at the skill which seemed to be born into old wizarding families. At the annual Ministry Ball, she'd heard Lady Parkinson speak for nearly twenty minutes and say absolutely nothing at all. She often wondered if it was a skill, or if they were truly that boring and didn't have anything important to say. Likely a bit of both, she thought.
Noticing his focused gaze, Lily reached into her expanded robe pocket and pulled out a stack of parchment tucked into a folder, though it appeared as if they barely fit. "I was able to employ contacts to gain all of the relevant information which could possibly result in the symptoms related to your daughter's condition. I pulled that information from several sources, including the International Archives in Geneva, our Ministry's Department of Mysteries, and other sources including both St. Mungo's and the Hogwarts Library. Suffice it to say that my office at home is now full of documents and books, so much so that they're nearly spilling over one another."
The man smirked slightly, nodding. "I'd heard rumours that you may be using quite a long reach for information, and I'd already guessed who you turned to for it. I'm not in a position to argue with results, though I must ask if you impressed upon him the need for discretion? This matter is currently...delicate."
How'd he know…? It didn't really matter, truth be told. However, she'd only had the information for a few weeks. Lily didn't quite understand just how he could have already known or guessed anything, especially enough to refer to Albus - she wasn't stupid, and neither of them had any doubts who he meant when he said 'him'.
"I did," she affirmed. "Contrary to what some may believe, I know that man is capable of keeping secrets so close to his chest they may as well be tattoos on his skin. I worked with him during the war, though that's not a conversation I'm willing to have at the moment, and I know for certain that he can keep a secret."
"Then you certainly know him better than I," Cyrus allowed. "Understand that I'm not critiquing your methods, only ensuring as much silence as currently be ensured, and informing you that there is never quite as much silence as you believe there to be. People talk, and information is a currency often worth more than gold."
The man was speaking kindly and warmly, obviously not condescending in his manner, and so Lily nodded and took his advice in the spirit he was offering it. It did however force her to wonder just who else may have that information, and slightly relieved her to know that it would mostly lead back to Albus rather than herself at first glance - slightly cruel, she would admit, but the Burkes were far less dangerous to a man like Dumbledore than they were to herself, and she trusted he would never tell them of her involvement.
Cyrus smiled at her, nodding once. "In that case, I will thank you for leveraging the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW into having the staff at the Archives compile your research for you, and for having the Chief Warlock of our nation's judicial and legislative body trawl the basement of the Ministry at your call. Well played, Lady Potter, well played indeed."
"Nothing quite so cynical," she remarked, offering a tiny smile of her own. "Merely a favour from a friend."
"I'll say that the favours from your friends certainly are effective, then," he answered, tapping his finger on his desk slowly. "Especially if you've ended up with an entire room full of information."
"Much of it may be useless, but in the interest of being thorough, I requested everything that could even slightly lead to the circumstances your daughter finds herself in. The results are...vast. I've already ruled out a large portion of the information I've been able to read thus far, though I have with me some that I find to be rather compelling. It's pointed me in the direction of ritualistic magic of some form, though I'm sorry to say that I don't have concrete proof yet. Merely several dots that, when connected, point to that particular branch of magic," said Lily.
"A ritual to cast a Blood Curse," Cyrus muttered, frowning. "While perhaps promising, that could lead to a literal endless list of possibilities. Many rituals, as I understand them, are self-made and therefore never again repeated."
"That is true, to an extent, though it is the nature of the condition which leads me to believe that. If it were strictly a traditional curse, it would've likely run its course generations ago. The fact that it's still around leads me to believe that it's archaic magic. Also, the telling factor is your oldest daughter, Daphne, as well as those like her who've been born without the curse." Lily responded.
"It's telling that Daphne isn't cursed?" he asked, frowning further. "I suppose I don't understand. The curse is random, to the best of my knowledge."
"Nothing is random, not truly," Lily said, quoting Master Flamel subconsciously. "Archaic rituals are something which my Master made me study, particularly the seasons and their effect on different ritualistic practices. It was one of the first things he questioned me about on my first day as a student. This is because ritualistic magic doesn't rely on the power of the caster, but rather uses ambient magic similar to wards and even some magical creatures."
The Baron was silent for a moment, before wincing slightly. "Embarrassed as I am to admit this, I suppose I still don't understand the connection to Daphne."
Lily nodded, realising that it wasn't really common knowledge. "Ritualistic magics, depending on the effect, must be completed at specific times of the year, as they would be either disastrous or else ineffective at the wrong time depending on the nature of them. I have a list. Every single woman or girl who I've been able to confirm as suffering from the curse have all been born in the spring or summer when natural magic is at its most active, and the closer they are to the spring equinox, the more severe the curse becomes. Daphne, however, was born in the winter, just before the solstice when natural magic is at its most dormant. So was Lord Burke's niece, Claudia, who was born in January and is now at the ripe age of 46, and curse-free."
The man swallowed harshly, glancing away for a second. "You're saying that if...if Astoria was simply born four months earlier…"
"Everything points to that, yes. It leads me to believe that this curse is being inflicted not randomly, but through archaic magic of a ritualistic nature." Lily answered. "Elizabeth was born in July, and Astoria in late May. I also have others I've been able to tie directly to this reasoning. More than a dozen cursed women, while there've been twice that many who've lived natural lives, and all of them fall within the bounds of my theory."
Cyrus nodded, though it appeared as if he were still struggling with the earlier knowledge. After a moment, he took a deep breath through his nose and faced her again. "Thank you for what you've brought me. While I admit that I hoped for better news, the fact that you've managed to seemingly find a clear direction is promising."
"Of course, though I wonder what information you've found. You mentioned earlier that you had some evidence which you considered 'not concrete'," said Lily, wondering if it may tie into her own theory.
"I do, though keep in mind it's only speculation," Cyrus answered, peering at her thoughtfully. "I had a meeting with our friend Lord Burke, and it was inferred during that meeting that I'm still working to find a cure, though I made no mention of how or whom I may be working with. He was angry and defensive, and this leads me to believe that he knows more than he first admitted regarding the condition. He claimed 'I don't know what I'm playing with' just before he left. It struck me as odd, because a cure would only help his family, and any other old family would leap at the chance to be cured of a curse."
Lily nodded, allowing her thoughts to race slightly at the information. If Lord Burke knew more than he let on, perhaps who'd originally cast the curse or even…
"Has he ever mentioned who it was who cursed the family?" she asked. "Surely they would've known who their greatest enemy was and sought retribution for such a damaging bit of magic against their entire bloodline? That wouldn't be forgotten information over the generations."
Cyrus was staring at her critically for a moment, but finally answered. "He hasn't, though I will admit that the 'who' never really concerned me so much as the magic itself."
It was a stretch, but…
"What...what are the penalties for casting forbidden magic, Blood Rituals on a pregnant woman and her unborn child? Perhaps not meant as a curse, at first, but as an enhancement gone wrong?" she asked, hesitantly.
The man's eyes hardened slightly, and his face became stony. "Death," he answered firmly. "Such a thing would be a perversion of magic of the highest order, an attempt to break the natural cycle. It would be the equivalent of…" The Baron allowed his words to trail off, and Lily thought perhaps he suddenly looked dangerous, murderous even.
She swallowed harshly. "The person who cast the magic is long dead by now, however if it was a member of the Burke family attempting to use a ritual to enhance their bloodline…the need for secrecy would make a large amount of sense. They've hidden it for generations, and seem angry any time someone looks into it at more than a cursory level."
"If the Burke family…" he began quietly, before pausing briefly. "This is not a light topic of discussion. If they were known to have experimented magically on an unborn child and her mother in an attempt to steal more magic for themselves, and at the same time fail and then spend decades covering it up? It would be in breach of several international laws, and just as many domestic ones. They'd be lynched, the entire lot of them who knew or suspected anything about it and did nothing. It would be the end of the Burke line, the very name likely becoming taboo."
"I have no proof of anything, merely speculation," Lily qualified. "However, if it was a ritual meant to enhance rather than detract, that would force my research into an entirely different direction, and would also make some type of sick sense given their defensive nature surrounding the curse."
Cyrus nodded, still wearing that same expression. "Normally, I'd be the first to warn you against a thought like that. People have died for less serious accusations. However, if there is even the slimmest possibility that Astoria is suffering because of wretched magic of that sort, then I say it isn't something we can overlook. This only makes the situation more delicate, and so I would ask that you look no further than the research you've already gathered - perhaps looking at the merits of ritualistic curses and enhancements both, until we can be certain. Allow me to make more discreet inquiries on this matter and wait for me to contact you with my findings."
Lily wondered just how deep this seemingly-simple case had just become.
Her research would have to take a shift if the original intent was not to harm but instead to enhance. The method used, the contents of the ritual, and even the possible ways it all could've failed. It was likely very far above her own level of knowledge, and so she would be forced to consult perhaps her own Master or even Albus - both of whom knew infinitely more about esoteric magics than she did. There was still a child caught up in it all and Lily wasn't discouraged from helping her in the slightest. It had merely become more murky and confusing.
Mind made up, Lily agreed. "I'll not go digging for more information, though I will be consulting my Master about this. I'm sorry to say that his knowledge far outreaches my own on such rare and dangerous magic. He may very well know something which I would otherwise overlook."
"In the meantime, I have a particular contact who would likely be able to help with my own inquiry. In matters such as these, you'll forgive me if I don't mention any names," Cyrus said agreeably.
Lily wondered what that meant - if it was just a secretive contact, or perhaps if it was someone she wouldn't want to know the name of. There were only so many people who would have knowledge of the Dark Arts (and this was certainly Dark Magic they were referring to) as well as the old families of nobility, and most of them she would happily call, if not enemies anymore, certainly not friends either.
Still, it was his daughter at stake and Lily had no say in anything but a possible cure. "Agreed. I understand your time is limited today, so I'll take my leave and see what I can gather from this point. I'll stay in close contact with my findings, and hopefully we're now one step closer to a solution."
Slowly progress was being made, and they now had an elixir to ease the symptoms while they - hopefully - found a means by which to save the life of Astoria Greengrass.
Author's Note:
Chapter 7 done. Over the next couple of chapters (planned for 2 right now, possibly 3) we will see the eventual conclusion of the current arc, and then a time skip to begin Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Those chapters might come all at once, so that those who are left waiting will have more content to read on the next update, and also move the story forward significantly. Then again, they may come individually depending on what I decide.
As always, thanks for reading.