47.Fairest Stars in the Night

29th of May 1993, Saturday

Juno

It was a pleasant late spring day, and the sun shone bright enough to break apart the clouds. The Hogwarts grounds were flush with students milling around or resting in the shade of trees or columns. With the final exams nearing, many had brought their textbooks and notes, studying feverishly.

“Why do you bother with Astronomy?” Padma asked. “Didn’t you take your O.W.L. for it?”

“I did. But I am still attending the second-year exams anyway,” she said.

“What about you, Harry?” Diana turned to their friend, who was sprawled on the ground, with the latest edition of Daily Prophet resting on his face. “Will you also steal one of the top spots from your unfortunate yearmates?”

“Nope. I’m done for the year.” Came the muffled groan from below the paper. He had trained too much today, nearing the point of physical and magical exhaustion before noon; Juno was surprised he was even awake.

His efforts, however, had paid off. Three months ago, Harry Potter had surpassed her in raw magic power. While Juno had been studying hard for the O.W.L.s, her friend was again pushing himself to the limit.

“Just as I thought I had a chance at being first this year,” Diana whined pitifully. But she looked more haggard as of late, and her usual smiles and childish antics were more subdued. “How do you even get to participate? You don’t even have to attend classes anymore. It feels unfair.”

“Technically, I am a second year.” Juno’s lips twitched with amusement. “And the world isn’t fair. Nothing stops you from taking the O.W.L.s early and receiving the same privileges as Harry and I do.”

Diana snorted. “Nothing but unbreakable patience, a lost childhood, and countless hours spent studying.”

Juno smiled bemusedly at the shorter witch.

Truthfully, Juno would not have bothered with the second-year exams if not for the chance to unlock that elusive place Harry was spending most of his training time in. It was too intriguing to pass up, and her friend tacitly agreed to let her try. Still, that didn’t mean she was bound to succeed as easily. Lily Moon was a natural savant in Astronomy, earning a higher grade than Juno in the subject last year. There was also the irksome chance that she would fail to check the requirements because she was taking other exams early.

A part of Juno was irritated at dealing with mundane school matters when her future was clouded with uncertainty, and her parents were still on the loose. The flames of anger in her chest had mostly burned out, leaving the still-seething but far less consuming embers of hatred. Juno felt far from adequate to confront Rodolphus, let alone her mother, no matter how much she hated them. She could ask for help from Harry, of course, but this was something personal. Something she had to do alone.

Deep down, Juno still longed for the love of a mother and the care of a father. She wanted a family, but it was denied to her by her own parents. It was not something she could ever forgive or forget. It didn’t matter that they were killing witches, wizards, Muggles, and beasts. It was something she could have easily closed her eyes to if they had been there, doing their duties as parents. It didn’t have to be perfect, but its absence was damning, eating away at Juno like a slow-acting curse inside her heart. In the end, as the head of Houses Black and Lestrange, it was her duty to deal with those who had broken the laws of kinship and sullied her good name in the eyes of Magical Britain.

A family matter.

Another part of her was relieved she could stay at school and not be faced with the Death Eaters or the precarious House Black affairs. The advantage of her high birth that she always took for granted was slowly beginning to feel like a noose around her neck, tightening little by little. Especially now that she had to face everything alone. Juno did not feel ready. She missed those early days of school when her biggest problem was trying to win one over Harry Potter in a duel, and her hands were not bound by looming formal obligations or underhanded struggles for influence.

The letters coming to her from allies and business partners were increasingly less subtle and more demanding. At this point, most had realised that her grand-aunt was either dead or missing and were beginning to circle Juno like sharks smelling blood. The O.W.L.’s results had yet to arrive, and her request for partial emancipation had yet to be approved. Juno’s worry only grew as the days passed.

At least, studying and practice helped her not think too hard about her bleak prospects.

“Another fire in a small town in France,” Harry muttered as he sifted through the pages of the Daily Prophet, having rested enough to actually read it instead of using it as a sun screen.

“Our infamous Pyromancer is at it again,” Padma commented drolly. “I bet the French are singing with joy.”

“More like frothing at the mouth—they lost two of their hit wizards this time. They have been hunting Emberwick for over a month to no avail. It’s written that the ICW has issued an international kill-on-sight order for the man because his actions threaten the Statute of Secrecy.”

Morag, otherwise engrossed in her Potions textbook, threw Harry a tired look. “Don’t you get tired of reading the news? It’s all doom and gloom, and it makes you feel terrible.”

“I mean, I did just take a break of sorts.” He awkwardly scratched his cheek. “But I can’t exactly bury my head in the sand and pretend nothing is happening. Some of those nutters would love to kill me, you know? Heck, they might even be planning it. Being the Boy-Who-Lived isn’t a nuisance anymore; it’s a threat to my life.”

Diana’s shoulders slumped at Harry’s words, which had ruined the pleasant mood, and Juno made a note to talk to her in private later. Something was definitely bothering her friend.

“There shouldn’t be anything to fear,” Padma said. “The DMLE caught twenty more Azkaban escapees last month, Dmitri the Fraud amongst them. My father says Mad-Eye Moody will catch them all soon enough. There’s like… sixty left at large, over half of them in Europe.”

It sounded more like she was trying to reassure herself. Sixty roaming free was sixty too many.

“And how many more Muggles will they kill before that?” Diana challenged. “Fifty? A hundred? More? The Prophet puts it in the back pages, but I’m not stupid enough to miss it. Only last month, there were three attacks in villages, and thirty-five people died just ’cause some crazy folk think they’re better than everyone else!”

Nobody answered her. Diana’s heart was big, but the truth was that no wizard genuinely cared about Muggles, except the Muggle-born. Killing Muggles was bad for the Statute, public order, and other things, but there were many of them. Some even said there were too many. Those dead among their number were like a drop in the ocean. Hearing a few Muggles die was like hearing of a death toll after some disaster in an entirely different country—distant and very much so impersonal. And those who empathised with the Muggles did it out of paternal superiority. We’re their betters, and thus we have to take care of them.

‘No, not everyone,’ Juno amended in her mind. Harry looked a bit troubled, even if he hid it well. It was a small miracle that he was so benevolent, considering his Muggle family was the worst sort imaginable.

It took her three hours, but Juno finally found the opportunity to drag her friend into the privacy of an abandoned classroom with Harry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyeing the two of them warily. As usual, he had noticed something was wrong, but was usually content to observe.

“Why should something be wrong?” Diana asked far more defensively than she should have.

“You seem worried,” Juno noted.

Harry’s face turned fierce. “Is someone bothering you? Some older year student?”

“What? No!” Her body language, however, betrayed her as the Muggle-born girl crossed her arms defensively. “It’s just the stress from the coming exams—”

“I can tell you are not being entirely honest,” Juno interrupted. “It has not escaped our attention that you seem a bit… troubled as of late. You don’t have to tell us, of course, but we are your friends and want to help you.” She placed her hand on the shorter girl’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “We can’t unless you tell us what is wrong.”

Harry vigorously nodded.

“So you’ve noticed, huh?” Diana gave out a forced half-smile. “Nobody is bullying me. It’s just that… Dad somehow managed to get a subscription to the Daily Prophet. And, well, he’s not entirely happy with Wizarding Britain.”

It was understandable. Her dad was a Muggle business owner, a very wealthy one at that, and danger and violent crime were no good for business and education. The Ministry’s inability to deal with a prison breakout over half a year later was damning and would surely ring alarm bells.

“What, he wants to move?” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

Diana nodded weakly. “To Australia. Says this part of the magical world is too dangerous, and the Muggle-born wizard he has managed to hire told him that Australia is a good place to go.”

“Their third-rate magical academy can hardly compare to Ilvermorny, let alone Hogwarts.” Juno sneered, feeling irritated. She understood Diana’s father, but that didn’t mean she wanted to part with her friend. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but she didn’t care, especially after losing Cassiopeia. “Surely, he could be persuaded otherwise.”

“My father is not the sort to be swayed by others,” Diana muttered, slumping on a chair. “The only way I see him change his mind is if the Muggle attacks stop and all the Azkaban escapees are apprehended. ‘Better safe than sorry’ is what he loves to say when it comes to our personal safety.”

Juno pinched the bridge of her nose. “Perhaps there can be a compromise. You should know that nothing can stop a determined wizard. It’s good that your father hired a Muggle-born, but as you know, most young wizards and witches aren’t that formidable. Moving out of Wizarding Britain can merely reduce the risk to your family, not fully eliminate it. You can spend your holidays abroad and return to Hogwarts for the school year. It’s one of the safest places in the world.”

Harry barely held in his snort, attracting a glare from Juno and an even more morose glance from their Muggle-born friend.

“…I’ll try. But don’t get your hopes up that much,” she muttered.

Shoulders slumped, Diana excused herself and left for the library to do her Charms homework.

“…I don’t want Diana to leave,” Harry said, sighing.

“Neither do I, but there isn’t much we can do yet. I can try to persuade her father in person, but without Aunt Cassiopeia, my words aren’t worth much. Her absence is damning enough, and people are beginning to catch on.”

Harry swore, balling his fists up. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I, Harry.” They stared at each other in irritated silence before Juno’s fingers found her wand. “Let us duel.”

The two of them levitated the desks to the corner of the room and spent the next hour duelling. It wasn’t as fast-paced as their usual, but a more playful exchange that saw them try to fight with Transfiguration only.

Harry’s heart was not in it, yet Juno still lost.

It rankled her slightly, which was a surprise, considering she had managed to swallow her useless pride. Her skills weren’t anything to boast about, but perhaps Juno was putting her effort in the wrong places. Dark magic and curses were where her talents lay.

Just as they headed back to the common room, a tiny shred of parchment popped in front of Juno.

“Flitwick summons me to his office,” she said after reading.

Harry scratched his chin. “It can’t be for the O.W.L.s, or he’d summon me too. Want me to come along?”

“Sure,” Juno said, ignoring the strange satisfaction she felt at his question.

Flitwick stood in front of the office, looking surprisingly stern.

“Narcissa Malfoy requests a private audience with you, Miss Black,” the Charms Master said, tone clipped. “If you do not wish to see your aunt, I will dismiss her. I can sit as your guardian, too, should you wish for it.”

This was a meeting Juno would have avoided at all costs if it had not happened in Hogwarts. But even her aunt wouldn’t dare play tricks under Flitwick’s nose when he got serious. Regardless, the time to struggle and fight for her own future had arrived, if only with words this time.

“I appreciate the offer, Professor, but I will meet her alone.” To get a measure of what her aunt suspected, if nothing else.

“Very well.” With an unreadable expression, Flitwick waved his wand at the door, and it opened, revealing Narcissa’s enviously shapely figure sitting in one of the chairs and sipping on a cup of steaming tea. There was a slight glow to the older witch, a sense of vitality that had been absent when they had met last time for Arcturus Black’s funeral. However, that could have been because of the tight-fitted black and silver dress her aunt wore.

As her name suggested, Narcissa Malfoy was a vain woman and did not shy away from showing off simply to put younger witches to shame.

“Mr. Potter can attend, too, should he wish to join our talk.” Her voice was low and almost husky. “Some of the matters we shall discuss concern him more than most.”

“I shall join in, then,” Harry said firmly before Juno could even turn to him to gauge his reaction. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he measured down Narcissa Malfoy.

Her friend’s presence soothed her stretched nerves. While Juno would surely lose against her aunt on her lonesome, defeating her was possible with Harry’s assistance. That was without mentioning Nyx, who was doubtlessly snoozing under his skin and would pounce upon the unsuspecting witch should they come to blows.

Narcissa merely nodded, her face unreadable.

“I shall leave you three to it, then.” Flitwick allowed softly. “Rest assured, you can speak undisturbed, Mrs Malfoy, Miss Black, Mr Potter.”

Juno emptied her mind as she entered the room, and the door behind them closed. They paused in front of Narcissa, who stood to greet them. Juno tried to gently get a feel of her emotions, but got rebuffed as Narcissa’s lips quirked up.

“My, my, you’ve grown, niece.” She smiled, but there was a hint of warning in her tone.

Juno curtsied slightly while cursing inwardly. “Aunt.”

“Lady Malfoy.” Harry lightly kissed the offered hand, and his cheeks gained a slight colour.

“Oh my, Mr Potter. You’ve only become more charming since we last met.” Narcissa sauntered up, standing nearly a head taller than the twelve-year-old Harry Potter and kissed him on each cheek. Her lips lingered far longer than appropriate, and then Harry’s face was unceremoniously shoved into Narcissa Malfoy’s lush cleavage as she hugged the twelve-year-old boy without a single ounce of shame.

Juno was so stunned her mind struggled to process what she was seeing. By the time she gathered back her thoughts and coughed loudly, Harry’s face was already as red as a tomato.

“That is very inappropriate, Aunt Narcissa,” she hissed through her teeth, seriously debating whether she should just curse her aunt on the spot.

Narcissa sighed, face regretful as she reluctantly released Harry.

“My apologies, Mr Potter. You are such a strapping young man that I just couldn’t resist. Surely, you will afford an old witch like me some frivolity, Niece.”

Harry Potter shook himself, and the redness in his face disappeared as fast as it appeared. “No harm, no foul, Lady Malfoy,” he allowed stiffly, but Juno noticed his eyes linger on her aunt’s chest, and her irritation returned with full force.

The ball of fire in her stomach grew. Trying to keep her mind clear became significantly harder all of a sudden. But it was on purpose, she suspected. Narcissa had done this to catch them off guard and try to dictate the pace of their talk to her liking. Or perhaps it was revenge for attempting to glimpse her mind.

“Why the surprise visit, Aunt?” Juno challenged curtly, not bothering with courtesies.

“Ah, the impertinence of youth. Green doesn’t suit you, niece,” Narcissa drawled mockingly as she returned to her seat. “Have a seat.”

Green? She wore no green, she double-checked her clothes. No, it was envy—green with envy. Was she so easy to read?

Juno was tempted to remain standing in an act of childish defiance, but Harry languidly sat on the couch across from her aunt before glancing at her.

“Excellent.” Narcissa smiled once they were seated. Then, her face became impassive again. “Excuse me for my forwardness; I must ensure we are not overheard.”

She slowly pulled out her wand to show she meant no harm and carefully waved it twice, ensuring it never pointed in Juno and Harry’s direction, and a faint hum blocked out all outside noise.

“My, my. The two of you have grown quite dangerous, haven’t you?” She noted with faux levity, but her eyes were calculating as she regarded Harry, who was lazily twirling his wand between his fingers. “The rumours of your prowess have been greatly understated, Mr Potter.”

“These are trying times,” Juno said, tilting her head. “Many fools have gone mad in their fervent pursuit of a deceased Dark Lord, and it’s difficult to tell friend from foe as of late. Let us not play games, Aunt. Say your piece and leave. Students like us have important exams to deal with.”

“Important exams after you’ve taken your O.W.L.s already, eh?” Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. Did you think I wouldn’t know what my favourite niece is up to? Fine, let us dispense with the courtesies. I’m here to deliver you the partial emancipation.”

She gently placed a fine scroll with a ribbon of crimson silk on the table, and Juno’s mind came to a screeching halt.

What was the catch? Why would Narcissa Malfoy hand over the very item that would ensure Juno was forever free of her clutches?

“There’s no catch,” she said as if reading Juno’s mind. “While your O.W.L. results will take some time to arrive, I have it on good authority that your performance has been more than sufficient to pass.”

The young witch pushed down her rising irritation.

“I have yet to pay a hefty fee for the emancipation,” Juno said, still not moving to take the scroll. It did look like the official ministry documents, but she still didn’t trust her aunt. “A thousand galleons is a significant sum.”

“Spare change for someone such as I,” Narcissa waved her hand flippantly. So this was where Draco got it from? “I paid it out of my own pocket, niece. It’s my peace offering.”

“A peace offering?”

“Quite. I am done with my sister’s antics.” Her aunt’s words took a dangerous undertone. “She’s a danger to my daughter.”

“So you’ve been the one sheltering my mother?” Juno hissed out while Harry blurted, “You have a daughter?”

“Not quite sheltering, but you can’t exactly turn away your sister when she brings a big lot of scum, each less pleasant than the last,” Narcissa noted with great distaste. “Your mother has descended too deep into madness, barely clinging to the last vestiges of her sanity.” Then, her words grew warmer. “And to answer your question, young Harry, if I might call you such—”

“I don’t mind.” Harry’s almost eager response made Juno’s hand twitch.

“Lovely, dear.” She was all smiles and sunshine as she spoke to Harry, and it irritated Juno to no end. “I have given birth to a little princess named Calisto. She’s nearly two months old now.”

“Why didn’t you call the DMLE to report my mother?” Juno asked curtly. “If you don’t want to deal with Bellatrix and the rest of the Dark Lord’s fools, you should have called the Ministry.”

Narcissa was aghast.

“And turn my manor into a battleground?” The older witch wagged a finger. “You don’t make enemies where there are none, Niece. So, I let your mother go. If only she didn’t try to rip off my whole arm when I gave her a hand!”

“I highly doubt you or Mr Malfoy are not resourceful enough to come up with a plot to trick your former friends.” Harry suddenly chimed in, his green eyes stabbing at the Malfoy matriarch. “Malfoy Manor and its grounds are ancient and have powerful protections. It’s as simple as waiting until they are out of the grounds on one of their murder sprees, contacting the DMLE, then laying a trap outside your home while hiding under the protections.”

“Ah, not only strapping and strong, but sharp and vicious, too,” Narcissa tutted. “You would have us trust the DMLE to fully cooperate with us? That there would not be any delays or mishaps? Besides, the DMLE has been a nuisance to House Malfoy, pressuring us since the Wiltshire Explosion, and I trust them as far as I can throw those incompetent louts. It would be a cold day in hell if they agreed to any such plan with us, at least not the current administration.”

“Then, why are you telling us this?” Harry asked, his voice dripping with suspicion. “Your husband supported Voldemort before.”

“He was proven innocent by the Wizengamot, dear Harry.”

He scoffed. “Like that matters. But perhaps he has changed his mind.”

“We all have our bouts of youthful folly, and the Dark Lord was Lucius’ worst,” Narcissa tutted, straightening up. “Of course, I always disapproved. Where’s the dignity in following some unknown man of dubious origins into doing his dirty work? Where is the glory and splendour in being a lackey? But it’s the wife’s duty to follow her husband, even when she disagrees. As for why I’m sharing this freely with you, take a guess.”

Harry tilted his head, and green eyes faced grey. “You want something from me, Mrs Malfoy?”

“Oh, please, call me Aunt Narcissa.” She leaned in with a lazy smile. “My father was in talks with Fleamont Potter, you know? With his knack for potionmaking and my father’s connections, things could have gone way differently. I could have been your mother, you know?” Her face darkened. “A pity James Potter had eyes only for… that woman.”

“Her name is Lily Evans Potter,” Harry bit out while Juno snorted inwardly. Any goodwill Narcissa had built with her friend had just evaporated. “My mother was a great witch, and Voldemort’s defeat was her doing. She succeeded where many others failed.”

To her credit, her aunt seemed unaffected by the Dark Lord’s name, but the twitch in her hand betrayed her.

“Undoubtedly, dear Harry.” Narcissa’s tone was slightly patronising as she reached to pinch his cheek. “I suppose a sliver of Muggle blood isn’t terrible from time to time. You’re certainly luckier than Severus. Your eyes are pretty enough, and you don’t wear those dreadful glasses your father used to carry all the time—”

“Enough of this farce,” Juno hissed out, seething.

“Oh my, a Parselmouth?” Her aunt chortled in delight as Juno turned as pale as a ghost. “It only makes my decision all the more delightful.” Narcissa leaned into her face, her hot breath and the smell of her heady perfume sending shivers of rage down Juno’s spine. “You have chosen well, my niece, but you are too easy to rile up. Or is there another reason why you are so disagreeable today?”

The knowing look in Narcissa’s eyes and the mocking smile that slowly graced her plush lips came close to making Juno see red.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t Obliviate you on the spot,” Harry murmured chillingly, his yew wand already aiming at Narcissa’s head. “I can cast the charm swifter than you can draw your wand.”

“There’s no need for violence, Harry, for I am here to ally with you two.” A devious smile bloomed across her rosy lips. “I am willing to swear a binding oath to keep Juno’s status as a Parselmouth a secret, too. Is that reason enough?”

“How can we trust you?” Juno finally managed to school herself and asked. It had all been a ruse, she realised. A ploy to test how close her relationship with Harry was and push and prod to see what else could be gleaned.

“All the signs pointed to Cassiopeia’s death three months ago, but there was no announcement and no funeral. I could have made moves that would see you struggle to escape my grasp, but did not.”

Juno’s lips curled as realisation sank in. “Because it would bring you a visit from my mother. Putting in all the effort to take House Black would just see Bellatrix and Rodolphus reap the rewards. Taking such a loss is not something someone as proud as you would ever suffer.”

“Indeed. I shall be frank—become Calisto’s godmother, Juno,” Narcissa offered. “Let us mend the strained family ties that have divided our family. I will tell you everything I find out about the Death Eaters and their movements, as long as it doesn’t involve my husband, of course. You must understand that my loyalties lie with my family.”

The irony of the statement was not lost on Juno. “What is my mother plotting, then?”

Her aunt sighed, looking a decade older all of a sudden.

“Bella wants you back so badly she’s willing to murder her way to you,” the older witch uttered, her gaze growing distant. “She even planned to raid the Hogwarts Express and Hogsmeade with her band of murderous goons, you know? The gall to risk the life of my son! And then, almost strangled my House Elf because she wanted to see if he would squirm the right way. I called the DMLE myself the next morning, of course.”

Doubtlessly, after telling her sister that she would do it, allowing Bellatrix to leave and thus avoiding any confrontation that would see House Malfoy damaged or implicated. Narcissa might have a dislike for the Dark Lord or his methods, but that didn’t mean she held any love for Muggles or Muggle-born. If anything, she was a woman ruled by her self-interest, and that included her children.

Juno clasped her hands. “I assume you have given up on that silly notion of betrothal with your son, then?”

“With the partial emancipation, the decision of such matters lies in your hands.” Narcissa motioned back to the scroll still sitting on the table. Her next words were sour. “My son has also sworn to run away the moment such a thing ever materialises.”

Ah, her efforts in cowing Draco had finally paid off. Her useless cousin was not so dumb, after all.

“This… alliance.” Harry reached out his left hand, and the scroll leapt into his hand, making the older witch gawk. “Will it continue after Voldemort manages to regain his body?”

“Why am I not surprised you know the Dark Lord isn’t truly gone?” Narcissa recovered quickly, tittering to cover her surprise, but her earlier confidence was gone. “And yes. It will. But I will not lower myself to do something as plebeian as spying. I will merely inform you of matters as they come—but only if you become Calisto’s godmother. Can there be any greater sincerity than my willingness to entrust my daughter’s future in your hands?”

After a moment of hesitation, Juno took the emancipation scroll that Harry was offering and sighed. Narcissa wouldn’t have offered her this chance if not for her connection to the budding powerhouse called Harry Potter. In fact, she would have probably planned to deliver Juno to Bellatrix.

She might still be. Juno had to be cautious, but Narcissa had made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

“Fine, Aunt.” Juno slipped the scroll into her robes. “Tell us everything you know, then.”

Beginning of June 1993

Chamber of Secrets

Harry

It turned out that Narcissa did not know much because she had never been directly involved in the affairs of the Death Eaters. However, it was definitely better than nothing. Bellatrix had quarrelled with Barty Crouch Jr. and Augustus Rookwood to the point that three bystanders were killed, thus splitting the Death Eaters in half.

The ones led by Barty Crouch and the former Unspeakable journeyed to the mainland to find their master—and a way to revive him, while Bellatrix wanted Juno. And she wanted her daughter back badly because Juno was ‘consorting’ with the enemy, which was unacceptable.

The enemy being himself, of course.

For some reason, that seemed to infuriate Juno even more.

Somewhere, someone had to be laughing at him right now. Amongst the escapees were many who had not actually followed Voldemort in the last Blood War. Some had surrendered, while many others had decided to flee Wizarding Britain and disappear for a few years until the search blew over. For a reason that Harry suspected, Juno seemed very miffed with him after the meeting with Narcissa and didn’t seek him out as often to duel. He could feel his face heat up as the memory of Narcissa hugging him to her buxom chest sprang to his mind. It was…nice. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone hugged him, let alone a beautiful witch like Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry shook his head and cleared his mind; he hated how easily he fell for the witch’s natural charm, even if he recovered swiftly enough. Pretty things could be the most dangerous—he knew that much.

Juno was definitely angry with herself, too, for the Parseltongue slip and was constantly meditating and practising with snakes to fully control her ability in any situation.

“They’re getting… close,” Harry groused after they met in the Chamber of Secrets one evening. “If my visions are correct, Voldemort is somewhere in Albania. Should Barty Crouch Junior and the other most devout followers find him, it will be merely a matter of time until he regains his body.”

“The Death Eaters looking for the Dark Lord are competent, and it would take less than a year for him to regain a body with the aid of men like Rookwood. Perhaps… perhaps we should consider going to Dumbledore,” Juno proposed hesitantly.

Harry wanted to lash out and immediately decline, but something in her blue eyes gave him pause. He trusted her enough to have a good reason to make such a proposal.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure we can do this on our own right now.” There was some reluctance in her voice. “With my mother hunting me and possibly even you, moving outside during the summer holidays is going to be very, very dangerous. Aunt Narcissa wasn’t lying when she said Bellatrix Lestrange regained almost all of her power, along with Voldemort’s inner circle, and her madness only makes her more dangerous and unpredictable. Those are not the underfed, half-mad thugs in Diagon wielding sticks that could barely pass as wands, but dangerous witches and wizards. We need another person to aid us… and do you think we can get the ring before that? What about the diadem?”

“You don’t know if they will find the Dark Lord and help him get a body,” Harry countered fiercely.

“But do you want to risk it?” The witch looked at the serpentine tiles beneath their feet. A beautiful serpentine pattern with a twisting ‘S’ along the length of the floor had been hidden by a layer of sludge before. “Augustus Rookwood was an Unspeakable. They have Potion Masters, people like Dolohov who possess mastery in the Dark Arts and duelling skills to match, and Morgana knows who else! Tracking down a wraith is more than possible for them, and once the dark lord is found, his return is a matter of time.”

“I… give me time to think,” Harry relented. “Trusting Dumbledore is not something done lightly. Even if we trust him, he would not have a better idea of the location of Ravenclaw’s Diadem than we do. If push comes to shove, I can try and sneak to Little Hangleton and try to torch the Gaunt shack with Fiendfyre.”

Juno turned on her heel and levelled him with a knowing look. “Because you’ve used it before and know how to control hellfire despite struggling with a Fire-Making Charm?”

“It’s still an option to consider,” Harry muttered weakly.

The problem was that any spells related to fire that he tried behaved weirdly. One time, Harry would summon an overpowering river of searing flames, while another time, his wand would spit out puffs of smoke. The loss of control irritated him greatly, even if it was only over the fire spells. But what truly annoyed Harry was hitting a wall. It was the limit of how much a single witch or wizard could do—Juno and he were only two pairs of hands, no matter how talented.

Harry had thought that with the influential and resourceful witch by his side, his options would expand greatly. They did, but not in the way he had desired. It was not enough. He now better understood why Dumbledore had hosted the Order of the Phoenix. However, fostering connections and recruiting for such an organisation was a long process that took a lot of time. Harry being twelve did not help either.

One Sunday, a pair of conspicuous ministry owls dropped a letter each before Juno and Harry, and the whole table quieted.

“Is that what I think it is?” Penelope Clearwater came over, looking like Christmas had come early. The crowd between the two became suffocating. “Congratulations!”

Juno looked unaffected by the excitement as she continued eating instead of responding, and Harry also returned to his serving of bacon. He knew he had passed, and Juno knew she had passed; otherwise, partial emancipation would have never passed, and this was enough. Only the grades were in question, but exam grades were the last thing on his mind.

“Come now, don’t tease us like that! Open them, Potter.”

“Show us, Black!”

“We want to see. Eating can wait.”

“Eating can’t wait,” Harry countered as he tore through the sausage. “Breakfast ends in fifteen minutes.”

“Give us some tips about the exams—”

“One point from Ravenclaw for disrupting Breakfast.” Sirius came over with a roguish smile. “Let Miss Black and Mr Potter eat instead of jumping around like clowns. Off you trot, now.”

The crowd mostly dispersed with his godfather here. Still, he had an ulterior motive for coming to him. Sirius was definitely as curious about their O.W.L. grades as the students were, as he waved his wand, stretching the space between Juno and Harry—both the table and the bench—and carelessly sat between them.

A few minutes later, the food disappeared from the tables. Harry wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin and tore the letter open.

Diana gave him a thumbs-up as she peeked by his side.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

This is to certify that the candidate named below completed the Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations conducted by the Wizarding Examination Authority and obtained the following result:

Candidate: Harry James Potter

Examination Period: April 1993

Pass Grades: (O) – Outstanding (EE)-Exceeding Expectations (A) Acceptable.

Fail Grades: (P) – Poor (D) – Dreadful (T) – Troll

Arithmancy – O
Astronomy – O
Care for Magical Creatures – O
Charms – O+
Defence Against the Dark Arts – O+
Herbology – O-
History of Magic – O-
Potions – O
Transfiguration – O+

Certified by: Griselda Marchbanks – Governor, Wizarding Examination Authority​
In hindsight, he shouldn’t have tried so hard. He could feel the crowd’s attention settling on his back as the silence thickened for a moment before the whole Great Hall erupted.

“As expected of my godson,” Sirius bragged, loudly laughing as he smacked Harry’s shoulder.

“Nine Outstanding O.W.L.s in his second year. What a little monster!”

“Look, he has three Oustanding with distinction—each one in the wanded subjects! I’ve only ever heard of students getting just one, and even that is rare!”

“I heard Dumbledore had two Outstanding with a distinction—”

“No, he had five-“

“My grandma said it was thirteen-“

“Black has done well, too!”

“As expected of Potter. I hear he has been tutored in magic since he could walk.”

Harry did his best to avoid the excited and jealous comments and exchanged his results with Juno.

Astronomy – EE
Charms – O-
Defence Against the Dark Arts – O+
Herbology – EE-
History of Magic – O
Potions – EE-
Transfiguration – O

Juno did not look too happy despite having superior grades to the vast majority of fifth years. Taking the exam three years early had harmed the prestige she would have gotten if she had had the full five years to prepare and clinch the top spot. But she had five more years to finish the rest of her education, including electives and N.E.W.T.s.

Half an hour later, Sirius dragged him into his Divination office.

“Congratulations again, Harry,” he said, visibly radiating pride. “We should throw a party. But first, planning. What N.E.W.T.s are you going to take?”

“Wanded subjects only,” Harry said. “And maybe Ancient Runes. The extra free time would be useful for self-study and practice”

“Not Potions?”

“Not Potions.” Harry had no desire to become an Auror anymore. “My goal is a mastery, really. Perhaps even multiple ones. Defence, Charms, Transfiguration.”

Apprenticeship under a Master was time-intensive and lasted for years, thus allowing him to postpone any career decisions for later. If Harry lived to twenty, he could finally worry about such things. For now, however, his goals were clear.

“Slughorn is not going to accept this,” his godfather said with a chuckle. “It will be a cold day in hell before good ole’ Sluggy lets a bright catch like you slip out of his collection of talents.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really care,” Harry said, shrugging. “If everyone is coming to me, I don’t need Slughorn to network then, do I?”

“So you’ve thought about it, then. Why am I not surprised?” Sirius gave him a rueful smile. “You will be leaving most of your friends behind if you take sixth-year classes, though.”

“…I know. But Juno and I have received different tasks, homework, and study materials for over a year. Aside from Potions, that is. So… nothing changed much.” Harry looked at his palms. They were calloused—both from the housework Aunt Petunia had forced him to do over the years and the additional physical conditioning he had started performing in the Room.

“In the end, if I want to surpass the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort, I cannot be held back by sentiment. Eating together with the rest of my friends should be enough—”

The flare of green fire from the fireplace interrupted them.

Amelia’s head poked out, and her cold blue eyes peered underneath the spectacles towards his godfather. “Professor Black. You have an urgent visitor.”

Sirius lazily tilted his head. “How urgent?”

“Very. It’s a family emergency,” the deputy headmistress said sternly. “There’s no time to delay.”

“My family has disowned me, and they’re all dead except for the Black Sisters and their sprogs, Bones!”

The stern witch merely gave him a no-nonsense glare.

“You will see. I’m coming through.” Somehow, Amelia Bones managed to condense a palpable amount of disdain in that sentence that made even Sirius wince. “You might want to dismiss Mr Potter for this.”

“Harry is my only family,” was the fierce response. “If it’s a family matter, it also affects him.”

“So be it, then.”

A few moments later, the fireplace erupted in green, and Amelia Bones walked through, holding a wriggling wrap in her hands as childish wails filled the Divination office. She inspected Sirius Black as if searching for something, sighing, and unceremoniously walked over before gently handing over the twitching blanket. “Here. She’s yours. Make sure you hold firm just under the head.”

The wails instantly halted the moment the wrap ended up in his godfather’s stunned hands.

“…W-What? How? Who?”

‘She smells like fire and feathers,’ Nyx offered sleepily before returning to slumber under his skin.

Harry curiously tiptoed to take a peek and froze. It was a baby. Bright blue eyes blinked back at Harry from the round infant’s face, crowned by a soft tuft of pale gold so luscious that it would make Malfoy green with envy.

“Your child.” Amelia Bones pinched the bridge of her nose. “You shagged a baby into some poor doe-eyed Veela and ditched her. Her name was Béatrice Bellerose, you daft, irresponsible fool!”

Sirius, standing like a statue, looked like he was in the middle of an existential crisis, closing and opening his mouth like a fish. He looked torn between his desire to disappear into the carpet and his fear of breaking the fragile baby in his grasp should he move a finger.

Seeing that his godfather was too stunned to speak, Harry coughed. “Miss Bones, what happened to Miss Béatrice?”

Amelia’s stern gaze paused on Harry as if trying to intimidate him into submission. She wasn’t even a third as suffocating as Voldemort, though. Still impressive, but not enough.

“Ascalon Emberwick happened,” she allowed after a moment. “The madman struck at night when all was asleep. He burned a whole Veela enclave with their spouses and all the other inhabitants just to prove his fire is superior to the one Veelas wield. Little Estelle is the only one left alive, being chucked into a well, and even the search party almost missed her. Her mother, her grandparents, her aunts, and everyone else within three degrees of blood relationship are now dead. And the French Ministry didn’t hesitate to send the baby here—you’re her guardian by French, British, and Veela magical law.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Harry muttered weakly. “Err. How can you be certain Sirius is the father?”

“His name is on the birth certificate,” Amelia said with a snort. “Estelle Béatrice Black. A French name that follows the naming tradition of House Black. Besides, it’s pretty clear. Little Beatrice has been crying no matter who held her; even Professor Dumbledore and his phoenix failed to calm her, as did the house elf who raised me. Veela children recognise their fathers’ magic, and as you saw, the moment Sirius held her, she calmed down.”

“I… I… we used protection,” Sirius eked out, despairing. But he still didn’t dare to move.

“Veela can instinctively destroy contraceptive magic, Black,” Amelia explained, but her anger was replaced by disappointment more than anything else. “The mother either duped you or was young and couldn’t control herself.”

Sirius was still struggling to find his words.

Sighing, Harry raised his hand. “Is it normal for wizards to raise Veela children, Madam Bones?”

“Not really, Mr Potter. Because of their innate gifts, sending Veelas to orphanages is illegal, and most attempts to adopt one are done with ulterior motives. The Veela enclaves in France consider the little one a curse of bad luck, according to the French witch who brought Estelle here. Of course, it gets worse.”

“Worse?” Harry echoed, ignoring the rising feeling of trepidation.

“To a large portion of Wizarding Britain, the child will be half-French, half-breed, and a bastard to boot. One is enough to invite dislike and scrutiny, and all three…”

“Yeah, well, they can sod off,” Harry said, snorting. “The fickle fools all fall in line with the direction of the wind.”

“How astute, Mr Potter.” Amelia Bones regarded him carefully as if trying to see if he was worthy. Then, she gave the slightest nod. “Either way, the laws are clear. Congratulations on fatherhood, Black! I shall leave the two of you to it. Get it together, Sirius. If not for yourself, for the little girl.”

And just like that, the deputy headmistress left through the door, but not before giving a pitiful glance at his godfather; it was better than the earlier disdain, but not by much. Half the school would surely know by the next day, whether Bones mentioned it or not; Harry sometimes suspected the Hogwarts rumour mill really was a sentient part of the castle.

His godfather kept staring at the baby, blinking and blinking again, as if uncertain if his eyes were deceiving him.

“Damn it,” Sirius groaned out as he cautiously moved towards his chair while trying not to shift the position of the snoozing wrap in his hands. “I’m so screwed. I… I have no idea how to be a parent. Worse, I’m not cut out to be one!”

“You can always leave the baby to someone you trust,” Harry proposed glumly.

“What? No!” Sirius yelled, only to wake up Estelle, who instantly started wailing. “Shush shush shush. Don’t cry, little one, don’t cry. I’m not going to abandon you.”

“We’ll figure it out, then,” Harry assured once the baby quieted down.

“Figure what out?” His godfather looked ready to cry instead. But his tone was carefully subdued. “I… I don’t know what to do. My mind is blank, Harry. I-I can’t think!”

“I’ll get some books on Veela and baby-rearing. We can purchase the services of a House Elf to help us. I know lots of wizardfolk use them to help raise their children. There’s always Hagrid, who knows… stuff, and perhaps you can consult with your cousin Andromeda. She’s the cool sort of mother who probably won’t turn you away for advice.”

“…I can’t leave you on your own, Harry.”

“Why would you? Estella is literally family; she can stay with the two of us at the Potter home. It should be ready anytime now, right?”

Sirius began to chuckle madly. It was a hysterical laugh as he struggled to keep it as quiet as possible, but couldn’t stop.

“Damn it. Damn it all.” His words were torn between tears and laughter. “My twelve-year-old godson is teaching me how to parent my baby daughter.”

“You’re in shock. I’m pretty sure you’ll get your act together once you overcome the surprise,” Harry offered dryly. “Raising a child is probably going to be hard, but we’re her best bet at not being screwed over by the world.”

“I never wanted this,” Sirius moaned. “I used protection, damn it.”

Harry’s next words came out far more heated than he intended. “Are you going to leave her, then?”

“Of course not! I’m just… afraid I’ll bungle it. Parenting, I mean. I’m barely passable as a godfather. Fuck.”

“Language,” Harry chortled. “What if you teach her bad words?”

“Fu-Fudge. You’re having great fun seeing me struggle, aren’t you?” Sirius accused, stabbing a finger at the laughing Harry.

“Absolutely. I can tell this is going to be your wildest adventure yet,” Harry wheezed out between his chuckles.

His godfather then grew uncharacteristically serious, and Harry’s laughter died in his throat. “Hey, Harry. How about you become Estelle’s godfather?”

As expected, the Hogwarts Rumour Mill was going full speed. In the afternoon, half of the school had already learned Sirius Black was now a father. Some claimed the child was half-goblin, half-giant, or half-siren. Many of the older witches seemed very disappointed in the news. Thankfully, no one had learned about Estelle’s new godfather yet.

Dumbledore had graciously allowed for one abandoned room to be used as a nursery, and only Sirius, Harry, and the House Elves could enter.

Harry couldn’t bring himself to decline, especially after Estelle happily giggled at him.

That didn’t stop him from finding Draco and making a request, remembering his earlier promise.

“I can sell a House Elf to you, Harry.” The blonde boy considered the idea by tapping his chin. “But we only have Dobby, and he’s not a very good servant. My mother always complains about him, you know?”

“Then the price will be lower, no?” Harry countered, inwardly praying for the poor soul who would get to serve Malfoy in the future. “And you can perhaps get a new house elf that suits your family’s needs.”

“You know what? You have a good point. I’ll write to Father right away.”

After dinner, Juno was reluctantly dragged by her friends to the party in their honour in the Ravenclaw common room, but Harry managed to avoid it, if barely.

He didn’t feel like celebrating anything right now, and his mind felt as if it had fallen into one enormous swamp. In the end, his feet led him to the Come and Go Room. Harry entered without hesitation and plopped down by a pile of garbage, staring at the tall, vaulted ceiling.

Being a godfather was another weight on his shoulders—it was an entirely new experience, as he had never even seen Lupin’s son in his old life. But Estelle had nobody but Sirius Black, much like Harry. Harry knew how fragile peace and family could be. Truthfully, he was surprised he cared so much about a baby he had just seen today, but he did.

Harry Potter knew what it was like to be alone and unwanted. He always wanted to cherish what little family he had. What he had told Sirius was not a lie. Estelle was family, even without the ties of blood. Only one thought bothered him greatly. What if he died? What if Sirius died?

Who would she have, then?

Harry held no delusion about his mortality. He had accepted death a long time ago, and he did not fear it as Voldemort did. But what would happen to that giggling little toddler should Harry and Sirius meet an untimely demise?

Was it selfish of him to try to carry the burden of vanquishing the Dark Lord on his and Juno’s shoulders?

Cassiopeia Black had already died because of his selfishness. Juno never blamed him outright for it, but Harry blamed himself for it. Perhaps… perhaps it was time to tell Dumbledore everything, no matter his reluctance. This Dumbledore here seemed far more reliable than the one from his other life. But Harry Potter knew how far the headmaster’s plans could stretch and how subtle they could be.

Even so, Harry would swallow the feeling of betrayal and mistrust of others. Just this once.

“You look quite morose.” Helena Ravenclaw’s voice almost made him jump. But for once, her transparent face was full of concern instead of mocking and dark amusement as she gazed at him. “It’s a rare sight, considering you stubbornly toiled your way into basic wandless magic with sheer grit and determination.”

“Why do you care?”

“You’re from my house, Boy. Even if your manners can use some work. I am… willing to lend you an ear. Just this once.”

“I… damn it. I can’t find a single bloody shard after half a year of searching,” he confessed, throwing caution to the wind. “It’s supposed to be here.”

The ghost twisted, cautiously approaching him as she eyed his right hand. Rightly so. How many times had he hexed her with his yew wand?

“And what, pray tell, will you do with my Mother’s diadem, Harry Potter?”

Harry snorted. “Destroy it, what else?”

“I see,” she murmured, looking him up and down. “You should have said so from the very start, boy!”

“…What?”

“I thought you were one of those ambitious little sprogs that lusted after my mother’s legacy. I would have told you where it was if you had sworn to destroy it!” Rowena gnashed her teeth as she angrily tugged on her hair. “You proud little lout. More talent than wits or courtesy!”

Harry just groaned, rubbing his face. How many hours had he wasted searching the Room? If he had been less derisive. If Helena Ravenclaw hadn’t acted so catty…

Swallowing, he asked one of the questions that had been on his mind for over half a year, “So… where is it, Lady Ravenclaw? Where is your mother’s diadem?”

“It’s destroyed, I’m afraid,” she drawled. “It was destroyed last year, you know. That charming thief reclaimed what he had placed inside it and then took some more.”

“Petrov?” Harry groaned.

“Oh, my sweet summer child.” Helena regarded him with pity. “I suppose you didn’t know. Young Tom was possessing the body of Professor Quirrell.”

“No,” the pained word tore out of his throat. “That can’t be. He was… he was good. He was teaching us properly and—and I-I saw his body… you’re lying!”

“Magic doesn’t lie, young Potter. Oh, I can recognise Tom’s sweet words and empty promises even if they wore a different face, let alone a different body. I could feel him carrying my mother’s diadem for the first half of the school year. And corpses are easy to transfigure, especially by an archmage of the calibre of Albus Dumbledore.”

The last part was said with a mixture of anger and gloating. It was not a tone someone would lie with. Or perhaps Helena Ravenclaw was that good at lying.

Damn it. Harry lay back on the pile of garbage and stared at the ceiling.

Was this how Sirius felt when the world had crumbled around him earlier today?

Harry no longer knew what to think. His mind refused to work. “Why would Dumbledore do this? Why would he lie? Why would he deceive the world to hide the Dark Lord? This doesn’t make any bloody sense!”

A ghostly hand cupped his face. It felt cold, like getting brushed by the morning mist.

“Oh, you poor child,” Helena crooned. “You’ve been rightfully wary of Albus Dumbledore, for he is no different from the other wizards. But Quirrell was a man the headmaster vetted and hired personally. If he were revealed to be the murderer last year, his dwindling reputation would have crumpled completely after being so terribly hoodwinked for a full year. With one small lie, not only did he turn the tables on the Board of Governors, but he recouped all of the respect he had lost last year.”

Harry wanted to scream. Why did her words make so much sense? Surely Albus Dumbledore would have made the right choice, not the easy one?

A few years ago, Harry wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. But now…

A hysterical chuckle tore from his lips. This world or the last, some things never changed.

He couldn’t trust Dumbledore in the end.