For the first time in a long while, Harry had the opportunity for relative quiet. The days had passed in such a blur that he'd barely noticed as one week bled into the next, and so, in rare moments he would take any chance he got to simply listen to the world around him. Even now everything felt rushed and hectic; the weather beyond the windows of Arpton a convenient metaphor as it subjected the castle to the worst storm in living memory – and that was a long memory at that, given how ancient some of the older inhabitants of the castle were.

It had begun several days before as only a light drizzle. Life had carried on, though the pace of the men and women carrying out their various duties had increased as they'd attempted to remain as dry as possible – there was, after all, only so much magic could do. It wouldn't be much of a surprise to see someone darting between the overhangs of the buildings and towers with the customary loping gait that one attributed to someone that, while they didn't want to get wet, they weren't about to run either.

The children had been thrilled as the small puddles began to appear in the cobblestone paths – he had personally witnessed one child in particular jump into a puddle and manage to splash no less than four unsuspecting adults nearby. He'd been sure not to let anyone see just how much he'd struggled to keep from laughing at the sight – something he had desperately sought solace in since returning for the summer.

There had been a solemn air that had pervaded Hogwarts in the following days and weeks following the ambush on the road – a hush had fallen over the castle in a way that not even Rhuxu and the spectre of Tom Riddle had managed to accomplish. There had been a small ceremony headed by Dumbledore to honour those that had fallen in battle three days after the fact, but it had done little to ease the tension.

It had seemed that everyone had retreated into their various groups and huddles, always casting furtive glances this way and that, no matter if they were in the corridors between classes, in the Great Hall eating their food, or in their common rooms. It seemed like everyone was waiting on something to happen, but nobody could rightly say what.

As for himself, he had wrapped himself in the presence of his friends – Hermione had been a balm to his aching soul, and once Neville, Daphne, and Tracey had recovered, the five of them could hardly be separated. There had been a change in Neville following the battle – while before he had always been eager to learn, now there was a determination in his eyes and in the set of his jaw that hadn't been there before. Tracey had been the most effected; she rarely smiled once she was released from the hospital wing and dark circles had formed around her eyes.

He had tried to help where he could – he knew what had helped him in the past, and he attempted to offer the support that he so desperately wished he had known the first time he had come so close to death. Sirius, Remus and Arcturus had done everything that they could, but there was something to be said – he thought – about having experienced that situation first hand. The emotions were raw and confusing, and so very easy to get lost and consumed in – he didn't want his friends to end up as twisted and broken as he knew he was. He wanted to protect them for as long as possible.

His efforts hadn't gone unrewarded, and by the end of the school year, the dark circles around Tracey's eyes had slowly begun to recede, Hermione had suffered fewer panic attacks, Daphne had begun to stop her hands from trembling at sudden sounds, and Neville had begun to smile again.

So, when the school year had finally ended, Harry had found himself optimistic. There had been hiccups along the way, such as discovering Pettigrew's escape during the ambush – most likely when Clara had come to his aid against the Dementors – and the following fallout with Ron when he discovered his rat missing and came to the obvious conclusion that the Pheonix had swallowed it whole.

Now, Harry couldn't entirely dismiss the accusation as complete horseshit, because yes, he had directed Clara to always keep her eyes on the rat, which he also granted was what gave the game up to Pettigrew. However, he could have done without his classmate marching over and getting his face – he had even gone so far as to roughly shove him, as if to goad him into a fight. House Weasley had offered their sincerest apologies several days later.

So, when the year had ended, it had been a relief. He had needed some time to himself, to pull back the parts of himself that had felt stretched out, and become the person he was expected to be. It had taken a few days – that were of course interrupted with a whole other calamity in the form of Sirius.

Just thinking of the man was enough to make him rub at his temples and a headache to begin to make itself known in the space behind his eyes. He had expressed enough anger over the stupid situation to last several lifetimes, and now he just felt tired. Thankfully, Sirius was finally on the mend, especially now that he was actually heeding the advice of his Healers. That didn't stop him from sending a cold glare his way every now and then though.

Something had happened with Sirius in the weeks following the meeting of the school governors at Hogwarts, though. Despite Sirius notably improving in health, and his having to rely on his walking stick less and less, there was a frantic, agitated energy about him that had Harry on edge. He had thought about asking about it, but had thought better of it – whatever it was, it would come out eventually, and he would deal with it when it did.

It was a strange new attitude that he had adopted in the aftermath of the ambush. In the years since his first trip to Arpton, he had always been preparing, planning for events that could happen, or might never. He had been so focused on those imaginary goals that he hadn't stopped to appreciate the world around him, the small moments that made his days worth it.

While there was a certain amount of preparation and planning for the future that he would never escape, it suddenly seemed rather futile to work himself to an early grave over things that might never occur. Some of those around him had clearly shown an appreciation for his new outlook on life, and he imagined they were coincidentally sleeping a little easier at night – Felix in particular.

His eyes refocused on the world around him – he had assumed his position at his balcony doors, peering out into the darkness beyond with only the warmth of the crackling hearth and the half-dozen flickering candles to ward off the chill. The rain fell in violent sheets, pummelling the ancient stone of the castle relentlessly. Beyond the curtain walls, he could just make out the river churning and roiling against the rocks – it was a good job that he had made sure that the regular patrols were put on hold.

A knock on his bedroom door drew his attention away from the storm outside. "Come in." He called, watching as Brandon entered his room; his hair was damp from the rain – no doubt running from building to building to make sure all the inhabitants of Arpton were safe and secure.

"My Lord." He smiled, bowing and hurrying to the hearth to warm himself once Harry gestured to it with a quick nod of his head. "I came to tell you that the preparations are ready. We can begin whenever you feel ready."

Harry nodded his head slowly, turning to look beyond the glass once more as a flash of lightning appeared far to the south. A few moments later, the clap-boom of thunder followed it. "Am I doing the right thing?" He asked, not looking at Brandon. "My ascension will be judged by today, even if it's not for a few more years yet."

"If I may, speak candidly, my Lord?"

Harry glanced at the man and gave a sharp nod. "I'd hope you'd always speak candidly, Brandon."

Brandon smiled, the action making the corners of his eyes crinkle – Harry always thought he had a rather expressive face. "I can't speak to how your father would have handled this, and frankly, I don't think there's a Lord I know of that's had to deal with something similar, but I can speak to the character of your grandfather, Charlus."

That caught Harry's attention, causing his eyebrows to slowly creep their way up his forehead. He licked his lips nervously – he had very few tales of his grandfather beyond what Sirius and Arcturus had passed to him, and those were few and far between compared to his father; at least when it came to Sirius. "Go on." He said, hoping that his voice hadn't sounded quite so unsteady as he thought it did.

"May I sit? I assure you my clothes are dry." Brandon asked, and once Harry gave him permission, he settled himself quickly and leaned forward in the chair, his elbows resting comfortably on his knees as he gently ran his hands against one another. It was all Harry could do to maintain his patience.

"I grew up at Arpton, my Lord. My father was the Steward of the castle, and his father before him – we're a cadet branch of House Aves that have served here at Arpton for hundreds of years. Our loyalty was to House Potter before even our own kin – that is the dedication and loyalty that the Potters inspire in the best of them." He began, his eyes taking on an unfocused glint.

"I spent my younger years running around the castle, learning every secret passage that I could, every nook and cranny. The Lord Potter at the time, your grandfather, ruled here when there was a steady peace. He'd been Lord for several decades by the time I was born, and it wasn't long until your father appeared." Brandon smiled, seemingly lost in the memories. "Charlus was larger than life, it felt like. He would walk into a room and his presence would fill it – he was a powerful wizard, and a strong warrior, but I think, what people often forget is how kind he could be."

"I don't think I've heard much of his kindness over the years – I know he doted on my father and grandmother, but nothing beyond that." Harry said quietly, moving to settle himself on the end of his bed.

"Oh aye, he was a kind man. He knew the name of every man and woman within the walls of the keep, and often their families too. Everyone knew they could go to him with whatever troubled them, and he'd make the time. The castle always felt emptier when he would travel to Wales to tend to business there. It's my belief that he intended to continue ruling here, and cede the running of Rosestone and those lands to your father when he turned sixteen." Brandon sighed, his shoulders slumping as he rubbed a hand across his face.

"Clearly, that didn't happen." Harry said, quietly. Perhaps it was a callous thing to say, but he had long become desensitised to such thoughts.

"No, it didn't." Brandon agreed, nodding his head slowly. "I don't mean to dredge up spectres of the past, but I did want to give you some indication that you're more than just the son of James and his wife, Lily. You're the grandson of the kindest, most powerful man I've ever known, but in the both of you is that same steel that forged your family into the power that it is today. Charlus could be ruthless and formidable to his enemies, and they all knew it – you have that same strength; we all see it, my Lord. Remind your Bannermen why they kneel to you."

"And if they think that I'm being too harsh? I can't imagine they'd want me to remain atop them for long if that's the case."

Brandon scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I've yet to meet a Lord or Lady that wouldn't mind a little harshness from their betters – keeps their mind's sharp. You're a wolf, my Lord; remind them that they are the sheep."

"Even Sirius?" Harry chuckled, quirking a brow at the older man.

"Especially Sirius." The Steward chuckled. "Gods know he could have done with a thrashing or two more for his cheek."

The two of them indulged in a moment of shared laughter at the thought before Brandon got to his feet, brushing the fine doublet down of any perceived imperfections. Harry watched him idly before getting to his own feet. "I suppose we should head down to the Great Hall then."

"Aye, my Lord – I think it's time. I'll wait for you in the corridor." Brandon smiled, bowing and leaving the room.

Once the door clicked closed behind him, Harry heaved a sigh and stepped around the side of his bed to where he had left his sword. With the weather being as awful as it was, he had felt no need to strap it to his waist, and so he had left the belt wrapped around the scabbard leaning against his bedside table. Once in his hands, he quickly pulled the blade free by a few inches and inspected what he could see of the blade – it remained flawless, and so he sheathed it once more.

Instead of strapping it about his waist, he clutched the scabbard in his left hand and moved toward the door, ignoring the few loose straps from the belt as they idly bounced against his thigh as he moved. He pulled the door open, revealing Brandon and the pair of guards that were stationed outside his door.

He nodded his head once and began leading the way to the Great Hall. Brandon fell into step behind him, his footfalls – while heavier – matched his own perfectly. The two of them hurried down the twisting staircases, and along the various corridors of the keep until, after only a few minutes, they arrived at one of the many doors that led into the Great Hall.

The door in question was a dark oak, with intricately carved detailing of wolves chasing after one another, and a large, thick iron handle painted black. His breathing picked up slightly before he could catch himself, and he rolled his shoulders to relieve some of the anxious energy he could feel building between them. Brandon's hand appeared on his shoulder, and when he glanced behind him, the older man smiled and nodded his encouragement. He returned the nod and pushed the door open before he could convince himself otherwise.

He entered the large, cavernous hall behind the throne of House Potter – it was wrought of pure Mithril and he hadn't sat in it since he had received the pledges of his Bannermen on his first stay at the castle. Now, he would sit it again.

Normally, the high table would be placed before it, with two large chairs for both the Lord and Lady Potter to take their meals and petitions at, with space on either side for their family to join them. That had been cleared away, no doubt in one of the storage rooms in the lower levels, only to be returned once the day was finished.

He hesitated climbing into the throne – Sirius said a replica of the chair sat in the Wizengamot in London, but Harry had never been close enough to examine it himself. A similar chair resided in Rosestone, but while the cushions there were made of a pale blue velvet, the cushioning on the one at Arpton was a deep red cotton and was clearly more worn. He traced the fingers of his right hand along the snarling wolves that made up the armrests, tracing their bared teeth and ferocious snarls with the tips of his fingers.

It was with pursed lips that he took a single step back and unsheathed his blade, marvelling for a moment at the quiet whisper of it sliding from the scabbard and the way that the blade caught the light of the room. Without glancing at him, Harry held the scabbard out for Brandon to take before finally approaching the throne one last time, before turning and seating himself upon the throne of his ancestors.

He didn't feel quite as swallowed up as he had all those years ago, and in the back of his mind, he felt the Family Magic stirring – now that he was older and had more experience with it, he could feel it seeping into the chair beneath him, mingling with the magical impressions of the previous Lords and Ladies of his House. With a calm rotation of his wrist and adjustment of his grip, he spun the blade in his hand, and rested the tip against the flagstone floor to the right of his feet – he was at least glad that he had grown enough over the years that he could firmly plant both his feet on the floor when sitting the chair now.

"May I say, my Lord, you look the image of your ancestors right now. I'm sure they would be very proud." Brandon said, his baritone voice quiet as a whisper in the empty hall, save for the crackling of the Great Hearth.

"I'll do my best to honour them." He said, bowing his head in thanks. "Bring them in." He commanded, ignoring the tightening of his stomach – he had to physically keep from placing his free hand across his belly to alleviate the nerves.

Not a moment after having given the command, one of the larger side entrances to the hall opened and Felix entered, leading a procession of the various Lords and Ladies of his Vassals. Felix was garbed in his full armour, as were the three dozen men and women of his household guard that accompanied him. As they entered the hall, they began to spread out, taking up strategic positions along walls, and on either side of the thick stone pillars that held the upper gallery aloft.

From his position, he watched as the various Lords and Ladies settled into their many positions along the large trestle tables that had been laid out for the occasion. Many peered up at him with curious eyes, especially once they spotted the blade on prominent display. They had arrived from every corner of his lands, and were as varied in appearance as they were in age.

One of the first he took notice of was the hulking form of Lord Grafton, towering a full head over those around him. He had only met the Lord Grafton twice before, and both times he had been loud and boisterous – he knew the man to be proud, but often agreeable.

In contrast to Lord Grafton, he noticed Lord Bunner next – he was a man that often made him uncomfortable with his mere presence. He had only met the man once, but he had found himself shivering beneath Lord Bunner's cool, calculating grey eyes.

As if the Gods themselves had directed his eyes, he found them next coming to rest on the form of the Lady Llewellyn, formally of the House Bivin – another of his Vassals, and whose Lord, her father, he caught taking a seat next to her. She wore a flowing dress of the richest emerald he could ever remember seeing. Lady Lewellyn held herself with a grace that he thought few others could hope to achieve, despite the rather recent and sudden death of her husband. Brandon had informed him that she had placed herself Regent until her son, Edward, came of age.

The last to seat themselves was the elderly Lady Dey, Aunt of Lord Grafton. She walked with a cane, and even in as serious a situation as the one he found himself in, Harry couldn't help but fight the smile that threatened to tug at the corners of his mouth as he watched her viciously swat legs out of her way.

There were the familiar faces, of course – he eyed Lords Lovegood, Griffin, Massey, and Hawke with a cool gaze, and then there was Sirius. He had sauntered into the room as much as was possible with the use of his walking stick, though privately he was glad to once more see that he was leaning less of his weight on it than before.

The seating had been set up rather simply along the trestle tables; those with more power and influence sat closer to the high table, and by extension the throne he currently sat upon. As was expected, Sirius sat the closest followed by the Lords from the battle of Hogsmeade going from left to right. At the furthest table from him, several rows back sat Lords Buell, Hulbert and Hull, as well as Lady Cornog; each was as equally unpleasant as the other.

With the gathered Lords and Ladies sat, and the guards having taken up position around the room, another side door opened. This time, a procession of the various heirs to the Lords and Ladies entered the room, each ranging from small children to grown men of a similar age to Sirius. They too were accompanied by a number of his household guard and were quickly directed to sit with their parents.

The implied threat hung heavily in the hall – he had but to say the word, and all the hopes and dreams of each of their houses could be taken away in an instant. His hand flexed on the grip of his sword.

Once the heirs were settled – he counted Cai among them, and it helped ease some of the tension that had slowly been building in his chest to see him up and about – the remaining guards filled the gaps around the room, and Felix slowly approached the throne before dropping to a knee and bowing his head.

"My Lord, as requested, your Bannermen have been assembled before you."

"Thank you, Felix – you may assume your position." Harry replied, forcing his voice to remain strong and steady, despite his nerves. Felix wasted no time in rising to his feet and hurrying up the steps to the throne and taking up position on his right shoulder; Brandon was positioned on his left. "Let us begin; Lord Black, step forward."

Sirius got to his feet and stepped around the table until he was in the centre aisle between the two rows of tables. Despite his clear limp, he was able to smoothly lower himself to a knee and bow his head. He had laid his walking stick at his side and folded his hands across his knee. "My Lord."

"For the sake of those that weren't witness to the previous year, can you recount the events that led to your injury?"

Sirius looked up and nodded once. "Of course, my Lord. It all started last summer, when my wife was informed as to the whereabouts of a dangerous fugitive – Fenrir Greyback. The Aurors in Britain had tracked him to a warehouse in Birmingham, and they thought they had him cornered."

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself not to shift uncomfortably. "What were the casualties?" He asked, raising his voice over the murmuring from his Bannermen – they only quieted once Felix slammed his staff into the flagstone several times.

"Three whole platoons were decimated: only a handful of survivors. In all, some thirty Aurors were ripped apart." Sirius answered grimly.

"Were any answers gleaned as to the thoughts of the criminal in question? Who was his next target? Where was he going?" At this, Harry tore his eyes from Sirius and swept them over his Bannermen ominously.

"He named you as his next victim, Lord. We believe he first began moving toward the Blackwall estate in Nottingham, and then he began to head northward, to Scotland once you began studying at Hogwarts for the year."

Lord Grafton slammed his hands onto the table before him and angrily got to his feet, the younger heirs flinched at the sudden and violent sound. Behind Grafton, a pair of guards levelled their staves at the man, violent tendrils of magic already running up and down their lengths. "Unacceptable!" He bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at Sirius, whose hand only slightly turned his head in Grafton's direction. "You'd have us content to mind our Lord while that beast hunted him? I should take your head now and save everyone the trouble!"

Murmurs of agreement met the threat from around the room, and Harry pinned the Lord with a cold glare. "You will shed no blood in this hall, Lord Grafton, and the next time I hear you issue a threat like that, I'll have you thrown into a cell. Is that understood?"

Lord Grafton, who had gone red in the face from first his fury, and then his embarrassment, said nothing but returned to his seat all the same, his fists visibly clenched and trembling atop the table before him.

"Lord Black, I assume there was a sizable taskforce assembled to hunt the man?" Harry asked, returning to the point at hand. "Who was running it?"

"My wife, the Lady Black, my Lord. The largest taskforce assembled since the fall of Voldemort was formed, and still he managed to evade her over the course of the year. He knew how to hide from and evade the Aurors."

"Why was I not removed from the school for my own protection? After all, surely, I would have been safer within the walls of Arpton, surrounded by my most loyal Bannermen?" Harry watched many of those same Bannermen begin to shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"The Wards of Hogwarts are nigh-impregnable, my Lord. It was determined that, as long as you were to remain within those Wards, you would be safe. Even then, in the few times you ventured beyond them to visit Hogsmeade, you were accompanied by my man, Remus Lupin, at all times. Being a Werewolf himself, and having been infected by Greyback personally, he knew the beast's scent, and had greater senses than any Auror or soldier available. You were safer in Scotland."

Harry nodded slowly, appearing as if he were mulling the words over in his head. "Very well, Lord Black – if I may, one last question before I bring forth the next Lord. Once it was revealed to me whom Greyback was hunting, and the revelation that I had been summoned by several of my Bannermen, what were your exact words?"

At this, Sirius smirked and glanced over his shoulder at the lot of them. "Fuck the lot of them, I believe was the phrase I used."

The words had the expected effect, and most of them – the exceptions being Griffin, Massey, Hawke and Lovegood – leapt to their feet, with some reaching for the weapons on their belts that had already been handed over prior to entering the hall. Once it dawned upon them that they were without said weapons, several began to move as if to physically assault Sirius. If it weren't for the quick reactions of the guards around the room, Harry was certain he would have been beaten bloody – though not without first having taken some with him, injury or no. Harry noted that the Lady Cornog was the only woman to get to her feet to join the shouting – Lady Dey, by contrast seemed to be rolling her eyes at the display before her.

The tang of Ozone on the air brought a sudden halt to the shouting, and many of the Lords and their heirs slowly returned to their seats, though they still grumbled amongst themselves.

"Perhaps you could explain your words?"

"You had just received a summons from your Bannermen to a meeting in Hogsmeade. The location was determined to be a pub – I can't recall the specific name of it, I'm afraid. Tensions were high because not long before, a student from Hogwarts had been butchered – Greyback was in the area. Your Bannermen were idiots, not to mention out of line."

The murmuring began to grow once more, but Felix slamming his staff into the floor quieted them down once again. "Thank you, Lord Black – to tell the rest of the tale, I call Lord Griffin to take your place."

Sirius nodded once and got to his feet, quickly trading places with Lord Griffin. "My Lord." Griffin said, bowing his head before returning his gaze.

"My Lord, I don't think there is a man or woman among us today that could question the honour of your word – would you take us through the events once I agreed to the summons?"

"We met up at the location specified once it had been vetted by the local Aurors, and the town had been emptied. We were the only living souls for several miles. You arrived with a large guard of Aurors, and in the company of not only Lord Black and his wife, but the Steward Remus Lupin, and several of your classmates, including my own son and heir." Griffin confirmed, anxiously glancing back at his son, Cai, before returning his gaze to Harry's own.

"Can you name said classmates? Barring your son, of course."

"The heir to House Longbottom, the heir to House Greengrass, one Tracey Davis and Hermione Granger also."

"So not only was my own life put at risk, but also those of steadfast allies and supporters of House Potter as well? What was the outcome of this meeting, Lord Griffin?"

Lord Griffin cleared his throat awkwardly. "Nothing particularly advantageous to the gathered Lords. Raised taxes for those involved over several years, and Lord Lovegood was threatened to have his niece, the Lady Luna Lovegood, taken on as a Ward of House Potter – I believe the implication was that this could happen to any of the other Lords not in attendance."

Harry nodded his head slowly, his eyes sweeping the pale faces of the Lords and their heirs slowly – not a single one of them held his gaze for more than a heartbeat before looking away. "Continue. What happened once the meeting was over?"

"We were returning to the school, not only to escort you back safely, but to speak with the Headmaster, and for Lord Lovegood to visit his niece, when we were ambushed. When the commotion began, we saw your carriage get hit with a barrage of spell fire, and we thought you might be dead. It wasn't until you led your friends to safety behind the Auror line and surviving carriages that we knew you to be safe. Once among us, you led Lords Massey, Hawke, Lovegood, and myself in a successful counter charge against the enemy in the trees. Lord Black's man had already engaged Greyback by this time."

"Can you describe the enemy?"

"They were a rag-tag group, my Lord – Bandits and Mercenaries as far as I could tell, but all wore the same style of armour. It originated here, Lord."

"And the Lords named can corroborate these words?" Harry asked, glancing at the three Lords that were sitting together.

"We can and we will, my Lord." Lord Lovegood confirmed.

"Very well, Lord Griffin – you may return to your seat." Harry said, watching as the man did as he was told. He paused for a moment, allowing the news to settle among the Lords before he continued. "Cai Griffin saved my life in that battle – as the fight was nearing its end, we were ambushed by one last assailant. He wounded and maimed the heir to House Griffin, as well as the heir to House Longbottom. I alone was uninjured enough to give chase, and I eventually cornered him by a nearby lake. His name is well known among the lot of you – Elbert Crane."

This time, Harry allowed the outrage to build among the Lords. Grafton was the first to his feet, swearing and cursing loudly – he was sure that if he still had his sword, it would be drawn and proclamations of war would be declared for any to hear.

Instead of allowing Felix to quieten the Lords, this time it only took a single strike of the tip of his blade against the stone to force them to be quiet. "I have no evidence beyond my own word, but I swear to each and every one of you in this room today, I heard the confession from the man's own lips." He held up his free hand to forestall any comments. "However, nothing was confirmed as to the actions of House Trevelyan."

"Bollocks!" Grafton bellowed. "Everyone knows that Crane doesn't even piss without his Lord's command!"

"Aye! It can only mean war!" Lord Bartlet shouted. He was a dour-faced man with a thick, white beard much like Lord Grafton.

"Send us home, Lord Potter – I'll call my Banners and carve a swathe through to the Capitol!" Lord Hulbert snarled. Harry had met the man on more than one occasion, and each time he indicated he was little more than a rabid dog, snarling to be let off the leash. Personally, he thought the man had more bark than bite to him, rabid or otherwise.

"Silence!" Harry bellowed, quickly getting to his feet and standing before the throne. He kept the point of his blade pressed against the flagstone, planting a foot on either side of it. He brought his left hand up to rest upon the pommel. "I'll not have words of war so easily thrown about in this hall!"

"Then what will you do, Lord?" Lady Dey questioned; her voice as sharp as a whip. "Will you call your banners and march to war like these fools demand? Or will you slink off to the kennels like a wounded pup?"

"Need I remind those in this hall that it was only two years ago that I was accused of fermenting rebellion against the throne? Most of you attended the Great Council and witnessed the accusations for yourselves. Would you have me break faith after so long?" Harry demanded, scowling at those before him. "We're sorely lacking allies, my Lords. Especially with my lack of evidence in my accusation – my word may be enough for all of you, but I assure you, it will not be enough for the other Great Houses."

"Your grandfather-" Lord Powe began, getting to his feet.

"Is dead." Harry snapped, scowling at the man. "As is every other member of House Potter. There are no cadet branches anymore – there's no-one left to take up the cause should I fall. Luckily, we have another Great House tied to us through House Black-"

"The Seven Devils will take me before I follow a Black to war!" Grafton bellowed once more, thumping the table with his fist. "The only time I'll meet his ilk on the battlefield is in the opposing army!"

Harry lashed out immediately, calling forth the Family Magic as he reached out for Lord Grafton. Before the Lord knew what was happening, Harry lifted the large man up and over the table with no more difficulty than the apple he had taught Hermione to levitate. He deposited the Lord on his knees before the steps leading to the throne and held him in place, despite his struggles. Around the room, his Household Guard readied their weapons – even Felix and Brandon shifted behind him, though he couldn't recall seeing Brandon carrying anything into the room.

"Release me, boy!" Grafton bellowed, struggling against the energies holding him in place.

"I warned you, that any further comments or threats levelled against Lord Black would see you thrown in the cells. Look at your Lord when he's speaking to you!" Harry growled, glaring at the man as he curled his fist, tightening his hold to the point where Grafton's face turned red and the veins on his neck began to bulge. When the man finally looked at him, only then did Harry allow the Lord before him to breathe again, though he still held him firmly in place. "Before the day is out, you will find yourself in the bowels of this castle for several months. You shall be released only when my Steward deems you suitably chastised – have I made myself clear?"

"Y-yes, L-Lord Potter." Grafton wheezed; the fight having left him.

Harry turned his eyes upon the crowd of Lords and their heirs before him, pointedly ignoring the proud glint he could see in Sirius' eye. "Understand this, the lot of you – each and every one of you is being held responsible for the attempt on my life at Hogsmeade. I shall no longer suffer your incessant whining about where I school, and where I live. You live as you do, by the grace of House Potter. I warn you now, if I hear so much as a rumour of preparations for war before I give the word, I shall march my armies to your keeps and root your families out – have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Lord Potter!" The Lords and Ladies called, many ashen faced unsteady on their feet at the bold threat.

"Good. To ensure that such an event is unlikely to occur, each House present today, with the exception of House Black – seeing as I'm fully aware they had no part in any of the events leading up to today – will present their next-in-line after their heirs, to be fostered here at Arpton until such a time that is deemed acceptable. Betrothals will be arranged, as well as any inherited lands and titles. Additionally, the originally proposed tax increase of five percent will be doubled for the next ten years. You're dismissed – guards, take Lord Grafton to his cell."

There was a beat of silence in the hall as the Lords absorbed the words, and then, one-by-one, they each scrambled to leave the room with their heirs. "Lords Lovegood and Griffin, you and your heirs are to stay here – Lord Black, you're also to remain."

One-by-one, the Lords and their heirs filtered from the room, talking amongst themselves in quiet, hushed tones. One of the first to leave was Lord Bartlet, who swept from the hall with his cloak billowing out behind him in a way that reminded him eerily of Snape; following hot on his heels was his heir, who cast panicked glances over his shoulder as he chased after his father.

Lady Llewellyn left alongside her father, the Lord Bivin – the two of them were much more dignified, and their heirs followed in much the same way. One that caught his eye was the Lady Dey, who lingered at the doorway, her lips drawn into a thin line, and her cane grasped in a white-knuckled grip.

Lord Grafton was hauled from the room by a pair of guards, and while he put up a valiant attempt to resist the undignified way in which his men handled him, it seemed that his struggle against Harry's might had sapped him of much of his energy. Only once Grafton was out of the door did Lady Dey follow after her nephew.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he passed his blade to Brandon and quickly made his way down the steps to the main floor. Guards remained spread throughout the room, and while their gazes remained straight ahead, he knew each and every one of them were watching the men Harry had demanded remain behind.

Once at the foot of the stairs, Harry clasped his hands at the small of his back and allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards. "Well performed, my Lords." He said, casting his eyes between both Sirius and Lord Griffin.

"Mischief managed." Sirius grinned, bowing smoothly with a wink. "I dare say you cowed them well and proper."

Harry shrugged. "Regardless of the ambush, they needed their hides tanning – I can't imagine Arcturus would've entertained that for half as long."

"No, but he had years of experience and a reputation that proceeded him; you're truly stepping into your own, Harry. He'd be proud of you – I know I am." Sirius smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Harry pressed his lips together but otherwise forced himself not to react to the words.

"I have to say, Lord, you handled that incredibly well." Lord Griffin added, clasping his hands before him. "The punishment was fair and well thought out – I imagine that others in your position might have abused the opportunity to exercise their power."

"I agree; you've been well groomed for your role. It seems our initial misgivings about House Black was misplaced. You've raised a fine young man, Lord Black." Lord Lovegood smiled, inclining his head politely in Sirius' direction.

Harry quirked a brow at the sight of the three men getting along so comfortably – he had read many of his ancestor's journals over the years, and he was well aware of the generational atrocities that had been visited upon each of the houses by the other over the centuries. If Houses Black and Lovegood could accept Sirius and House Black, then perhaps there was some hope for the future.

His eyes came to rest on the familiar face of Cai Griffin, and for the first time since entering the hall, he allowed a true smile to split his lips. "I see you're up and about." He grinned, stepping forward and embracing the young man that had become quite the unexpected friend.

Cai grinned in return, clapping him on the back before pulling back and holding Harry at arm's length. "Hard to think that the last time I saw you was in your first battle. You did well; we would've been overwhelmed were it not for you leading the counter charge."

Harry's eyes examined Cai's face carefully – there were a few new scars along his jaw and on his cheekbones, but they were small, insignificant things that would fade in time. No doubt, when they returned to Hogwarts, there would be several stories floating around of Cai's bravery and heroism. "I only did what I was taught. Don't forget that you're the one that saved my life – at personal cost to yourself, of course!"

"Oh, that reminds me!" Cai chuckled, quickly rolling up the sleeve of his left arm and tugging his glove off. "I can't thank you enough; I dare say it feels better than the original."

Harry's brows rose to his hairline as he took in the smooth curves of Cai's prosthetic. It looked no different from a regular forearm and hand, though there were small gaps where the mechanical parts slotted together, and small tendrils of crimson magic flared with each movement Cai made – it reminded him of the demonstrations of nervous systems in his classes at school. "May I?" He asked, gesturing to the prosthetic. Behind him, he could hear Lords Lovegood and Griffin talking quietly with Sirius and Brandon.

"Of course." Cai nodded, holding the arm out and splaying his fingers.

"It's like nothing I've ever seen before." Harry breathed, tracing his fingers over the fine, intricate carvings of ocean waves that decorated its length. Inlaid around the edges were trimmings of beautiful Mother of Pearl, with even finer Atlantean runes around the elbow and wrist. "You have full control over it?"

"I do – I even have a little more movement than I had before."

"Any feeling, or…?"

"No, no feeling. It makes grabbing things a little strange, but I'm getting the hang of it. It's apparently quite keen if I strike someone with it too; found that out the other day during a spar."

"I can imagine." Harry scoffed, releasing the arm and looking back at the boy. "Are you returning to Hogwarts after the summer is up?"

"Aye – despite everything, I know my duty… Besides, after the last year there, I can understand why you're so fond of it."

"Your father approves?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder at the man.

Cai nodded, following his gaze. "He does. He was shaken by the battle – more my being injured than anything else, I think, but he trusts me."

Harry nodded and pursed him lips. "It'll be good to have you there. Hopefully there's no rabid beast hunting any of us this year."

Cai winced, hissing through his teeth. "You shouldn't have said that."

"Oh?"

"Knowing your luck, you've just cursed yourself."

Harry rolled his eyes before leading their way back to the adults. "That's a load of bollocks and you know it." He said to the Griffin heir. When they rejoined the group, Harry turned attention to the Lord Griffin. "My Lord, I thank you for your House's service, and know that I'm indebted to your son. I have little more I can offer you at this point, so know that once I come into my position in full, know that your son may ask anything of me, and if it's in my power, I'll see it done."

"You're very generous, my Lord." Lord Griffin beamed, puffing up proudly on behalf of his heir. "Is there anything else we may do to serve you?"

"Not at the moment, no. In my absence during the school year, keep an eye on the other Lords and report to me if there are any further grumblings."

Lord Griffin nodded solemnly. "I'll be my honour, Lord. If there's nothing else, I assume you wish to speak to Lord Lovegood privately?"

"Aye. You're dismissed, Lord Griffin. Cai, if I don't see you before, I'll see you at school." Harry said, bowing his head politely. The two Griffin's left quickly after that, and Harry watched their progress across the hall and until the door was closed behind them. In the silence that followed their departure, Harry turned his head to look at Lord Lovegood and his heir, Xayvion.

"My Lord." Lord Lovegood murmured, bowing his head; his heir following behind half a second later. In the background, Harry eyed Sirius, Felix, and Brandon watching on.

"Lord Lovegood, I wanted to discuss the penalties facing your House a little further – would you mind joining me by the hearth?" He asked, sweeping his hand in the direction of the large fireplace. Already, several chairs had been arranged before it – no doubt the castle's House Elves hard at work.

The three of them moved over to the chairs – Harry situated himself comfortably in the chair on the left, while both Lovegood men took up positions on his right. Thankfully, the three adults behind him remained at a discreet distance as was expected of them.

"Let me begin, Lord Lovegood in offering my personal thanks in fighting so bravely at my side when we were attacked – despite the events that led to it. You displayed prowess not only in fighting and leading men, but also in magic; I'm sure your name will be remembered proudly in the histories of your House." Harry began, his eyes flickering between the two men. "You must be very proud of your father, Xayvion." He added, glancing to the heir.

"I am, Lord Potter – your words are true, all in House Lovegood are proud of my father, none more so than I."

In the ensuing silence, Harry took the time to study Xayvion – he had the silver-blonde hair he was familiar with through knowing first Luna, and now the Lord Lovegood. He vaguely recalled a lesson with Arcturus when he was younger where he learned that all members of House Lovegood, regardless of their parents, were born with silver-gold hair, a unique trait within their world.

Xayvion himself was leaner than his father, with a narrow face and high cheekbones. While his shoulders weren't quite as broad, there was a fluidity to his movements that spoke of excellent awareness and control of his body – in fact, Harry had only seen the like in a handful of his Household Guard over the years. Unlike his father, however, Xayvion had a darker brow, and clearly darker facial hair judging by the dark shadow along his jaw that was absent on his father.

"The kind words of both yourself and my son warm the heart, my Lord." Lord Lovegood smiled. "I only regret that I played a part in putting you in danger, as unintended as it was."

"What's done is done, and now we must all face the consequences." Harry said, as solemnly as he could manage. "I am aware that, while I have just ordered all Houses to provide their secondary heirs to the care of my House, your own is a rather unique situation."

Both men were silent across from him, with only the crackling and spitting of the fire to fill the silence, though he noticed that Xayvion shifted uncomfortably.

"Your son, Xayvion, is only a month old – correct?" Harry asked, turning his gaze back upon the heir to House Lovegood.

Xayvion nodded, swallowing. "He is, my Lord."

Harry drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair and pursed his lips. "Very well; as you can imagine, I'm not inclined to rip a baby from its mother. As a compromise, until the child is old enough, you shall provide seven of your most capable Druids to attend the fields and orchards of my land."

Lord Lovegood winced. "Seven, while a powerful number and certainly an understandable request, would be at risk of destabilising our current circles."

"And what would your suggestion be?" He asked, interlacing his fingers across his stomach and raising an eyebrow.

"With respect, my Lord, what about a compromise?" Xayvion offered, glancing between Harry and his father. "If you require seven Druids, we would need time to adjust our circles accordingly. However, if we offered an initial three – still a powerful number, of course – but with the offer to send more at any time should you request it of us."

Harry was quiet a moment and brought a hand up to rub at his chin thoughtfully. "Very well, though I expect one Druid to tend to the Dyre Wolf pack currently living in Potter's Woods. The last sighting had them roaming the northern edge."

Both men blinked at him for a moment before Lord Lovegood spoke. "I'm sorry, my Lord – did you say Dyre Wolves? On Potter Land?"

"I did." Harry nodded. "They've been here for several years now."

"A good omen, if I've ever heard of it."

"That's what my people whisper." He smiled tightly. "Omen or no, I would still have them cared for – while they may not be the wolf my family adopted for their sigil, they are still wolves, and I would see them flourish. Beyond that, I've come to realise that they're excellent deterrents for brigands and bandits."

Xayvion flashed a vicious grin. "If only we had something similar on our lands."

"Perhaps in time, you may. As to our discussion, have we reached an agreement?"

"We have, my Lord." Lord Lovegood nodded. "I'll personally ensure that the Druids arrive within the fortnight. Besides the Druid dedicated to the wolves, would you prefer them to tend the lands in Wales, or here?"

"Here should be fine – best to keep them all in one place." Harry said, getting to his feet and offering his arm. Lord Lovegood got to his feet quickly and clasped it. "Then it is settled – two weeks for your Druids to arrive. Now, if you don't mind, I'm afraid I have other business to attend to. The hospitality of the castle is yours for as long as you need."

"My Lord." Both Lovegood men said, bowing respectfully. A few moments later, the two were slipping from the hall as if they had never been there.

All that remained in their wake was the almost oppressive silence of the hall – beyond the windows, the wind howled and raged against the keep, drowning out even the spitting of the logs in the fireplace.

Eventually, he turned on his heel and looked to the three men that remained. "So," He asked, lifting his arms to either side of him. "How did I do?"

Felix smiled proudly, as did Brandon, but it was Sirius that answered him. "Brilliantly. I can't tell you how proud I am." He smiled, slowly walking toward him. Once the two of them were face-to-face, Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We're all proud of you."

For a brief moment – barely a heartbeat – Harry was unsure, fighting the urge to chew on the inside of his cheek. His eyes darted between each of the adults before him before he finally let out a long sigh and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I thought I really messed it up with Grafton."

"You did well, my Lord." Felix answered, stepping forth and giving his other shoulder a firm pat as Sirius moved back to stand by Brandon. "The men were ready to gut the fool, but you proved yourself a formidable man of your word. The Lords will respect that, and if they don't, they'll fear you for it."

He frowned up at the man. "I don't like the idea of being feared."

Felix shrugged. "It's the way of the world. You rule through respect, or you rule through fear. The best balance the two – as much as they're beholden to your Family Magic, fear stops them from getting any foolish thoughts of grandeur beyond their station."

"it's happened a few times in your family's history." Brandon spoke up, folding his arms across his chest. "There's a good few ruins strewn about where the Potters had to put a House to the sword. Mireworth's Folly and Arcop Castle on the far side of the Croftswood to just name two."

"I heard about House Mireworth." Sirius hummed, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Rebelled some… what, two hundred years ago?"

"Three." Brandon grunted. "Some feud with the then Lord Potter over his wife or something along those lines. Might have been his daughter. Fool called his Banners before his head ended up on a pike."

"Brave man." Felix huffed. "Stupid, but brave."

Harry glanced between the three men before shaking his head in resignation. "Come on, there's no point in us wasting time when Remus is waiting for us." He said, stepping around Sirius and making a beeline towards the door he had entered the hall from.

He heard the three men fall into step behind him as he made his way from the Hall. The familiar heavy footfalls of Felix – punctuated by the staccato clanking of his armour plates – and the regular clicking of Brandon's boots. The only unfamiliar sound that reached his ears was the click-clacking of Sirius' walking stick, which made him grimace each time he heard it.

They climbed several sets of stairs; some simple flights, while others spiralled around themselves, before they finally arrived at the room that had been chosen as his office. The room was already familiar to him, having been the location that Sirius had used to manage the business of House Potter on their many visits over the years. Most recently, it had been where the stubborn fool had collapsed and almost died – a wonderful omen for the start of his official reign as Lord Potter, limited as it was.

When they got to the room, Harry wasted no time in opening the heavy wooden door and stepping through. Immediately, his eyes darted to the single occupant of the room, and he grinned at Remus. The tall man grinned back, his amber eyes dancing in time with the fireplace and various candles strewn about the room.

"Harry!" Remus breathed, quickly getting to his feet as the others filed into the room behind him. "How did it go?"

"About as well as could be expected – though nobody has declared war against me, so I suppose that's the silver lining." Harry shrugged, flashing a quick smile as he glanced over his shoulder behind him. "Are you staying?" He asked, looked to Felix.

"I had planned to guard the door, but I can stay inside if you would prefer?"

"Please." Harry said, privately hoping it didn't sound too desperate. Felix assumed his position before the door while both Brandon and Sirius shuffled to the large table at which Remus had been sat. Instead of joining the three of them, Harry stepped around the table and continued past his desk to one of the window alcoves that overlooked the courtyard below.

Pale light flashed in the dark sky, and the rain continued to hammer the thin panes of glass with an unyielding relentlessness – he was half surprised there were any windows left. Thunder rolled across the castle shortly after, and with it, he quickly closed his eyes and reached out along the bond he shared with Clara.

He could feel her, nestled deep within the Owlery on the other side of the courtyard – she was warm and content, and even a little drowsy. There was a noticeable excitement on her end of the bond as the two of them brushed their minds against one another, though he made sure to let her know he wanted her to rest. A moment later, and with a lingering pulse of affection, he withdrew from the bond and returned to the approaching meeting.

"-as planned?" Remus was asking, and when Harry glanced over his shoulder, he saw the question had been directed at both Sirius and Brandon.

"Grafton was mouthy prick, and he's spending some time in the cells for it. Harry handled the whole thing wonderfully." Sirius answered, propping his walking stick against the table and reclining in the chair.

"I agree. And speaking as candidly as possible, given that we're in private, you've done a wonderful job of raising and teaching Harry for the coming years." Brandon said, reaching forward and pouring several cups of wine, handing them out to both Sirius and Remus before pouring one for himself. A glance in Harry's direction and a subtle shake of his head prevented one being poured for him too.

"It wasn't just us. Arcturus did most of the work – I learned largely at the same time as Harry." Sirius murmured, glancing in his direction before taking a swig of his drink.

"Still, the praise and thanks are there." Brandon said, bowing his head politely. "Now, I believe we have some business to attend to?"

"We do." Remus nodded, shuffling several papers on the table. "Most of what we talk about today has largely been discussed between Sirius and myself, but we would love to hear not only your thoughts on it, but also Harry's."

Harry's brow rose slightly, and he moved toward the table, quickly pulling out the chair with the Potter sigil and sitting down. "That's a first." He snorted, glancing between both Sirius and Remus, who both appeared amused.

"You're fourteen now – you've assumed the first of your responsibilities of your House. In two more years, you'll be a man – legally – and take on the full weight of your position. We agree it's time you were part of the discussion to any plans we make." Sirius said, and as amused as his expression was, there wasn't a trace of it in his voice. Beside him, Remus was nodding and fiddling with the edge of a piece of parchment, flicking it anxiously with the tip of his thumb.

"I can't wait." Harry grimaced, shifting awkwardly in his seat. "Are we sure we can't delay it? Can't I take an extra year and take on the responsibility a little more gradually?"

"There's certainly a precedent." Brandon nodded, clasping his hands before him on the table and leaning forward slightly. "But none of those were ever in quite such a precarious position as House Potter is. You must appear strong before any that could cast doubt upon you."

Harry sighed and rubbed at his forehead before gesturing to Remus to begin. "Right," Remus began, clearing his throat. "As we're all aware, Pettigrew escaped on the same day Greyback attacked. We can only assume he noticed the heightened attention from Harry, Dobby, and Clara; I think it's safe to think that he saw his opportunity when Clara came to Harry's aid against the Dementors."

"A fair assumption." Brandon nodded, pursing his lips.

Harry, for his part, was only able to slowly nod. At the thought of Pettigrew, his Family Magic had immediately stirred, and it took all of his attention to keep it under his control. The sheer fury he still felt, not only at the coward, but that his opportunity for retribution for the murder of his parents had been so close. His fist clenched atop the tabletop, and the palm of his hand began to sting as he felt his nails, as short and well-kept as they were, break his flesh.

"As such, Amelia has agreed to form a taskforce to begin actively hunting Pettigrew with the full support and backing of both House Black and House Potter." Remus finished, placing the parchment on the table and glancing around the occupants.

"Will it work?" Harry asked, surprising himself with how deep and rough his voice sounded to his own ears.

Remus shrugged a broad shoulder. "It's hard to say. We've tried searching for him over the years, but it's always been – for the most part – discreet. Maybe a public search for him might cause him to make a mistake?"

"It'll only take the one." Brandon hummed, rubbing at his chin. "Say the man is caught – how will justice be met?"

"That's the hang-up." Sirius sighed, his eyes darting between Harry and Brandon. "Pettigrew is as much wanted by House Black as he is by House Potter."

"You'd compare his crimes against your House to mine?" Harry snapped, glaring at his Godfather across the table. "I don't have parents because of that man!"

"And House Black could have been wiped out by him!" Sirius snapped back before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I'm not trying to compare, but both of our Houses could have ended because of that man."

"But House Tonks would have come forward to claim the mantle of House Black, correct?" Brandon asked, turning to look at Sirius. "House Potter has no cadet branches."

"They would have, but the Family Magic wouldn't pass to them. If I die with no heir, House Black will end – it wouldn't have to be on the day, but eventually we would be just another chapter in the history books."

"Dora's your heir currently." Remus pointed out, and as Harry watched the two of them, a strange look passed between them.

"Legally." Sirius huffed, ending whatever silent debate the two of them were having. "I assure you though, I have no intention of dying until I'm as old as Dumbledore."

"Could've fooled us." Harry muttered, his lingering anger adding a bitterness to his voice he barely recognised – the brief look of pain on Sirius' face made it clear that his words had been a little too cutting, though he struggled to feel guilty about it. "Regardless, I want Pettigrew – I'll take his head myself."

Remus and Sirius shared a look between them again, and Harry had to briefly wonder if that was how he looked with his friends. "Respectfully, I have to disagree." Sirius said slowly, squaring his shoulders in the same way Harry had watched Arcturus do it a thousand times. "Pettigrew is the responsibility of House Black."

"On what grounds?" Brandon demanded before Harry could.

"I introduced him to James. More than that, I'm the one that hunted the cunt down in the first place. He's the one that nearly had me thrown into Azkaban. I'm the one responsible for his actions." Sirius growled, his eyes flashing dangerously with his own Family Magic.

"Perhaps," Remus said quickly, placing a calming hand on Sirius' shoulder. "a compromise could be made? Gods know I want to see his head roll, but frankly I couldn't care less who actually takes it."

"What would you suggest?"

"A trade – one murderer for another."

"Crane." Harry scowled. "If you want Pettigrew, I want Crane."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Brandon called, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "We can't hunt a Lord of a Noble House like he's some pig in the woods! For fuck's sake, he's Bannerman to Trevelyan!"

"And declared war by attacking me and maiming one of my Bannermen." Harry replied, glaring at his Steward. "He all but admitted it."

"Yes, yes, I'm not doubting your word, but we have no proof. Veritaserum and a Pensieve are subjective and aren't legally admissible. Beyond that, you just told your Bannermen not to make any move against anyone." Brandon sighed, rubbing at his temples. "We have to think before we act and start demanding heads!"

"If we leave Crane in the wild, we're more likely to be caught completely unaware again." Sirius said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers across his stomach. "In a perfect world, we'd go to the Capitol and he'd be handed over, but it's not a perfect world."

"I agree, but I also agree with Brandon." Remus said, glancing between the two men. "What about this: a joint force for Pettigrew funded by both Houses with an agreement of justice being met by one or the other to be decided at a later date. As for Crane, we agree, here and now, that if he strikes again, he's fair game between Houses Potter and Black?"

Harry looked to Sirius, ignoring the tensing of his jaw as his teeth ground together. "I can agree with that." He said, inclining his head – Sirius followed a moment later. Privately, he thought it more likely justice would be met by House Potter when it came to Crane; Sirius was the more experienced when it came to battle, but Harry knew he had more reserves of power to call on. When the day finally came – and he knew it would – it would be a race as to who got to him first.

"It looks like a compromise has been met." Brandon nodded. "And a fair one, even if it's just begun a deadly competition between these two. Felix!"

"Yes?" Felix asked from his position by the door.

Brandon twisted in his chair and looked over at the other man. "Swear to me that you'll make sure our Lord doesn't do anything foolish if he finds himself in battle and Crane's there."

Felix's eyes drifted to his own, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll them. "I swear." Felix said, bowing his head. "He'll be safe with me."

"I'm right here." Harry scoffed.

"And right there we'll make sure you stay." Brandon muttered, turning back to face the table. A moment later, and in a suitably awkward voice he added, "My Lord."

Harry hummed but said nothing more, instead choosing to direct his attention back to Remus, who was watching the proceedings with some level of amusement.

"The next point of order is actually under the direct purview of House Black, but we thought Harry would like to weigh in on it. Lord McCarthy died last week." Remus announced, shuffling several pieces of parchment before him. "Initial cause of death appears to be Syphilis."

"The man liked his whores." Sirius hummed with a click of his tongue. "Not so much his wife."

"Why is this something I need to weigh in on? He's succeeded by his heir, whoever that might be." Harry asked, confused. For the life of him, he couldn't remember a single conversation where the man had ever been brought up.

"Well, it's a funny thing." Sirius scoffed, sitting up. "The man racked up so much in debt, and spent so much gold on drink, women, and gambling, that I've had to step in personally in the succession. He had no children – that weren't bastards – and so normally, he would be succeeded by his cousin. Only, I've never much liked anyone in that family."

"What's your point?"

Sirius shrugged. "I'm inclined to strip their lands and titles from them and give them to someone a little more deserving."

"I assume a fair chunk has been claimed by the debtors?" Brandon asked, cocking his head. "There can't be much left, surely?"

"Enough to qualify anyone raised to the position to join the ranks of the Nobility. They'd become my weakest Vassal, though."

"Who did you have in mind?" Harry asked, leaning forward on the table. It would be a lie to say he wasn't curious who Sirius had in mind.

"The lovely Miss Granger, of course."

The world stopped.

For a moment, all Harry could hear was the pounding of his own heart within his chest, and his vision meandered in and out of focus. It took everything within him to remember to breathe, and it wasn't until Felix appeared at his side, with a firm grip on his shoulder, that the world snapped back into focus. "I'll have that wine, Brandon." He managed, though his voice was hoarse.

Brandon snapped into action, quickly filling a cup and passing it to him. He wasted no time in throwing his head back and taking several long gulps, ignoring the tartness on his tongue as he did so. At his side, he could hear Felix chuckle before returning to his post at the door. When Harry finally drained the cup and slammed it on the table, gasping for air.

"I'm sorry, what?" He demanded, looking between Sirius and Remus, both of whom looked positively thrilled. How long had the two of them kept that one quiet?

"I didn't realise I stuttered? Did I?" Sirius asked, smugly looking to Remus.

"I didn't hear it."

"Shut up, both of you – explain. Now." Harry growled, glaring at the two of them.

"Look, it makes sense." Sirius said, his amusement disappearing in an instant. "House Greengrass has already made House Davis one of their Bannermen for the services Tracey performed." He paused and held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth. "I'm not claiming the girl did anything expecting a reward, but the fact of the matter is that she did and has been justifiably rewarded for her loyalty to Daphne. Gods, the girl took a spell for her."

"I don't see how that's relevant to Hermione, Sirius."

"She followed you when no-one else did. Cai and Neville were wounded, and your Bannermen were either dazed and confused, or still engaged in their own battles." Remus said, interjecting himself. "Hermione ran after you when you took off after Crane. You can't reward her because you're sweet on her-"

"I-" Harry tried, immediately feeling his face flush.

Sirius clapped a hand on his thigh and barked out a laugh. "Oh Harry, you're about as subtle as James. We don't do this to embarrass you; we do this because House Black is responsible for your care and safety, and she was there when we couldn't be."

"We're going to offer her this because she's earned it." Remus added, before Harry could respond.

"I'm confused – who is this woman?" Brandon asked, frowning and glancing between the other occupants of the table. Behind him, Harry could just make out Felix silently chuckling to himself and privately swore revenge upon the man.

"One of my best friends." Harry ground out, returning his baleful glare at the two men that had raised him. "And someone that would be just as likely to turn the offer down as to take it. She's a Muggle-born."

"And that's important why?" Brandon asked, still evidently confused. "She's clearly performed service to yourself and House Black. I don't see the issue."

"The Muggle world isn't as feudal as ours; their idea of nobility is very different from ours." Remus answered, leaning back in his chair. "Beyond that, Hermione will become the head of her new House. Neither of her parents have magic."

Brandon shook his head. "The idea that one might not have magic…" He muttered, but in a louder voice added, "I still see no reason as to not offer her position and privilege as reward."

"I do." Harry muttered, lowering his gaze to stubbornly glare at the grain of the table.

"There's a power dynamic that comes with her joining the nobility, particularly if she's a Vassal to House Potter. It's lessened by positioning House Black between the two of them, but it would still be there." Sirius said softly, his voice having lost the teasing edge to it.

"Ah." Brandon acknowledged with a sympathetic sigh. "I see."

Harry got to his feet quickly, hurrying from the table and retreating to the alcove, pointedly keeping his gaze fixed on the storm raging beyond the walls of the room. He felt hot and cold at the same time, his heart was beating a mile a minute, and he felt so full of energy but had nothing to release it with. He was equal parts excited beyond measure and utterly terrified.

"Perhaps if we continued with the proposal?" Remus' voice offered, and Harry could do nothing but nod. "Well, with the offering of position to the proposed House Granger, she would obviously become a Bannerman of House Black. However, she wouldn't inherit the ancestral keep of House McCarthy. Instead, House Black is proposing a gift in addition to the raised position."

Harry turned and looked over his shoulder. "What gift would that be?"

"Grimmauld." Sirius announced with a solemn nod. "I've wanted that place gone for years. It's close enough to Reading that it wouldn't completely disrupt her family, and large enough for them to enjoy it."

"You're joking." Harry said, flatly. "It's a cruel one."

"I'm not, I swear it." Sirius said, raising both hands. "Arcturus kept the place around only because of Orion. Despite his cruelty and atrocities, Orion was still his only child. Neither of us could bring ourselves to revisit the place after the war, and Kreacher was the only House Elf to maintain it in our absence. I'd see it given new, fresh memories by a loving family. Let House Black remain at Blackwall where we belong."

"It's a big gift, Sirius."

"Deserved after three years of keeping you alive." Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes before they softened. "I couldn't be there to protect you when you needed me to – to say nothing of the fact you should never have been in any of the positions forced on you these past years. I can't reward your other friends, but I can reward Hermione."

"And if this changes things?"

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "Then things change. I know the two of you have grown close, but if you both care for one another, you'll make it work."

Harry said nothing, instead choosing to return his gaze beyond the window. "Your other Bannermen won't like it." He said, folding his arms across his chest. "None of them were particularly thrilled when you married Amelia over their daughters. You can't keep disregarding their opinions."

A quiet chuckle caused him to look over his shoulder at the table, only to see it coming from Remus of all people. "I'm sorry, I meant no offence. I just find it ironic that it's you, Harry, worrying about everything when it should be Sirius and I."

Fully turning away from the window, Harry approached the table once more, but remained standing. "One of us has to."

"Aye, and it shouldn't be you." Sirius said, getting to his own feet and scooping up his walking stick before making his way around the table. "Look, Remus and I have gone over everything since the ambush – we've thought this through a million different ways." He said, coming to a stop before him. One hand at a time, Sirius held him by his shoulders and gave a comforting squeeze.

For a fleeting moment, Harry debated violently yanking himself from his Godfather's embrace, but when his eyes met Sirius' own, the thought – and the lingering resentment and anger that had festered since Sirius had collapsed – left him. He threw himself into Sirius' chest, earning a quiet whoosh of breath from the man, and wrapped his arms around him.

"I'll agree." Harry said, after a moment, before he released Sirius and leaned back. "On one condition."

"Name it."

"Hermione has to agree to it, knowing everything that comes with it. The good and the bad."

"I think we can manage that." Remus agreed from his position at the table. "Don't you, Sirius?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." Sirius grinned, his eyes dancing.

After a moment of quiet, Harry allowed Sirius to lead him the three steps back to his own seat, and as he watched the man return to his own, he couldn't help but feel like things around him were changing quicker than he could keep up. The coming visit of his friends to Rosestone and the Quidditch World Cup were certainly going to be different – he could only hope it was for the better.

"Now," Remus said, clearing his throat once again as Sirius settled himself. "The next item on the agenda…"