A Black Intervention

With November having come and passed, and the Christmas holidays fast approaching, Harry had been back and forth to the chamber to carry out his work in harvesting the basilisk parts that he intended to sell.

It was a difficult task in itself, and only made more so by Minerva's sudden insistence on spending more time with him away from lessons and the transfiguration club.

He didn't mind her company, on the contrary, he enjoyed it, despite the occasional reminder of the woman she would grow to become. This Minerva, however, was much more carefree, relaxed for the most part, and fun to be around.

A far cry from his former Professor and head of house.

Still, he needed to complete his undertaking here, and being distracted had not helped.

With his work nearing completion, he himself had relaxed considerably, though there was the final part of the skin he needed to remove.

This had been the most difficult part.

The basilisk had yielded the fangs and venom without issue, but the skin, not so willingly.

Inch by inch he had meticulously cut it away, losing several silver knives in the process as they broke under the strain of what was required of them. The skin was thick, and rigid.

A frustratingly slow endeavour if there ever was one, but Harry had persisted and he had finally reached the last foot or so, much to his relief.

He had yet to take the samples he had removed initially, partly because he wanted it all available to be sold to any interested parties, and partly because he hadn't had the opportunity.

Having had his weekends free at the beginning of the school year, it would not have been much trouble taking his leave of the castle for a few hours, but ever since the visit to Hogsmeade, he had been spending more time with Minerva and Charlus.

Not that he minded.

He liked them both well enough and getting to know a member of his family was as welcome as it had been unexpected for his entire life.

As much work as Harry felt he needed to do, the other Gryffindors he had met were worth sacrificing some of it for.

He still had the earlier hours in the day free where he would visit the room of requirement, just less time than he'd had on weekends and in the evening.

He still attended the transfiguration club and had begun his tuition under Professor Nott which was proving to be a great boon to his development with magic.

Thus far, she had spent much of their time together assessing him, testing his abilities, and offering advice on magical theory and how he could improve his spell work.

He had already known she was a gifted witch and took her profession seriously but spending time with her as he had only cemented that opinion.

She was still rather terse and abrupt, but he respected her, and she had treated him with nothing but the very same.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the final piece of skin came away from the corpse and wiped the perspiration away from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Never again," he muttered.

Not that such a thing was likely to present itself to him in his lifetime. Even if he lived as long as Nicholas, he would not encounter a sixty-foot, thousand-year-old basilisk.

With the bulk of his work now complete, he looked around the nest the creature had called home for so many centuries and shook his head.

He couldn't imagine such a life, and he found his curiosity getting the better of him.

Lighting the tip of his wand, he decided to take a closer look around, and frowned as he came upon a large tunnel, very much like the one he entered the chamber through that connect to the bathroom on the second floor of the castle.

He couldn't be certain where it led, and he did not have time to investigate it. That would have to wait another day, but the identical serpent symbol he caught sight of only a short distance away could not be ignored.

"Open," he hissed, stepping backwards as the sound of scraping stone was heard, the wall forming an open as it folded in on itself.

With a frown, he entered the opening and found himself in another large room, this one furnished with a desk, a bed, and the walls lined with bookshelves.

Sitting atop the former was a rolled-up piece of yellowed parchment sealed with a wax serpent, and a message scratched next to it in green ink.

"To Whom May Find This Place," Harry read aloud.

Carefully, so not to damage the already cracking missive, he pried away the seal and unfurled it.

To the son or daughter of my son,

It is time that I take my leave of the school.

Tis tense here now, my relation with the others having been squandered through petty fallout, a difference of belief if you will.

For moons, I have lived within these four walls you now find yourself, and that will not do.

I have tried to accept their decision, their belief, but I cannot.

Their acts will see us killed by those without our gift. I can sense it forthcoming, and I will not fall to them.

Godric believes us immortal, but I have seen the world, seen the cruelty they exact upon our kind. Tolerant for now they may be, but it cannot be in perpetuity.

They will come for us.

If it is fortune you came here seeking, then you will find yourself without. Anything of value I once held was gifted to the school long ago, but knowledge you can have.

Use my works to your own end and accept my sorrow that there is little more. My ring and pendant were given to my son, though they too are worth little, but was all that remained.

I will leave this place upon the completion of these words, to die in a land of peace.

I only wish my companion could join, but alas, she is now too big for such venture. She will be fine here. I carved her a tunnel that will lead her to the forest where food is abundant, and she knows that she must return here.

Death is all that will await her if she were to leave.

I keep faith that she will listen and that she will live a long life. I know not how long she may continue, but long, I would wager, many more moons than I.

Of that I am certain.

Please, be strong at heart that you are of me, that we endure what comes our way.

We are of the noblest of lines, and that is a greater wealth than any.

Be well, son, or daughter, and be at peace with what I leave you.

Salazar Slytherin.

The words of the founder were not ones that filled Harry with joy or exhilaration at finding them but filled him with a sense of sadness.

Had Tom Riddle felt this way when he read them? Had he even found this place.

Harry snorted.

Of course, he had. Tom would have searched every inch of the chamber, and a smile tugged at Harry's lips as he shined his light around the room.

It was empty save for the books lining the shelves, and he was filled with an immediate hunger to consume the contents of them all.

The collection Nicholas had gifted him was incredible, but this, he could find no words to describe.

"I'm going to need another trunk," he muttered, "maybe two."

He shook his head as checked the time, cursing under his breath.

He only had fifteen minutes before the transfiguration club started, and he had skipped dinner to complete his work.

Not that it hadn't been worth it, and with that in mind and a new plan forming, he exited the room and sealed it once more.

He would purchase the additional trunks he needed to store the veritable library he had discovered, but it would need to wait until the Christmas break.

It was not as though anyone else could find this place, not yet at least.

Another smile pulled at his lips at the thought of Tom eventually coming here.

It would be nothing other than a decaying basilisk corpse and an empty room, and the anger he knew the boy would feel filled Harry with a sense of undeniable satisfaction.

(Break)

"He's almost ten minutes late," Minerva pointed out. "You don't think that Malfoy…"

Charlus shook his head, though he wouldn't put it past the Slytherin to try something else to get to Harry.

"We'll give him another five minutes," he decided.

The subsequent second meeting he had held with Arcturus Black had left his counterpart fuming, and he had promised that he would ensure something like what Bulstrode and Stebbins had done would not happen again.

He of course, had not known of the plan, and Charlus had believed him when he said he would not have allowed it to be carried out.

At the very least, it had not been Harry that had suffered, but Bulstrode had spent the night in the hospital wing having a fractured shoulder fixed courtesy of whatever Evans had done to him.

What Charlus had learned was that there was more to his fellow Gryffindor than one would assume. He had known the ambush was there. How? Charlus knew not, but he would not underestimate the boy.

Evans was proving to be quite the powerful wizard, his demonstration of the patronus charm alone attesting to that, but Charlus saw it in everything he did.

His wand work was excellent, and the results of the magic he wielded, faultless for the most part.

He was a diligent student and would one day be a powerful wizard, though most purebloods would deny it.

They would never admit that one they saw as lesser than them was better.

Charlus snorted.

Dumbledore too was a half-blood but was perhaps the best wizard that resided within magical Britain.

"It's been five minutes," Minerva pointed out.

Charlus nodded his understanding.

"I will see if I can find him."

He'd only crossed half the length of the room before the door opened and Harry entered.

"Where have you been Evans?" Charlus sighed, though he was relieved to see the boy.

"Sorry, I got caught up," Harry replied.

"You work too much," Charlus huffed. "Come on, Minnie says she wants us to help her with something."

Harry followed and Charlus eyed him for a moment.

As much as he had ignored it, there was a resemblance between the two of them.

Harry was slightly taller than him now, even if the Potter heir was convinced that had not been the case at the beginning of term. His hair was as dark as his, though Harry's eyes were a bright green rather than the almond colour of the Potters.

A feature he had inherited from his mother?

Charlus shrugged to himself.

No. There may be a few similarities there, but Harry was not a Potter. He also shared the cheekbones and jawline of the Blacks, but he was not one of them either.

Harry had not shared his parentage with any, nor who his magical relatives were.

That either meant that he was a bastard child of a family that had disowned him, or a very prominent family that did not share their affairs so freely.

Regardless, Charlus had grown to like the other boy.

He was gifted, he was kind, and had time to help any who needed it.

The two of them had done so for each other often enough in this very room.

To Charlus, it didn't matter who the boys' family was. They had become fast friends, and that was what counted to the youngest Potter.

"So, what do you need help with Min?" Harry asked as they reached the girl.

Minerva gave him a questioning look but chose not to comment on his lateness.

"I'm stuck on conjuring a physical shield that can withstand a magical attack. They break after one spell," she explained.

Harry nodded.

He had worked on that very thing over the summer.

Having seen Voldemort conjure one during his duel with Dumbledore, he had wanted to replicate it. That shield had withstood an attack with ease and done so effectively.

Harry had decided to add it to his own repertoire, and after revisiting the duel over and over again, he had managed to focus on that particular feat. Oddly enough, when he did manage to watch it being conjured, the magic had felt familiar to him, and he had managed it in only a few tries.

Had that been another effect of the ritual?

He couldn't be certain, and though he hadn't gained a plethora of knowledge or spells that Voldemort had known, learning them became easier, and felt as though he had done so already.

With Minerva's problem, however, he could be of little assistance.

The spell he knew to create a shield like the one she spoke of, was a parseltongue one, and she wouldn't be able to cast it even if he was inclined to share his secret.

He was under no illusion that he could keep it to himself forever, but for now, he wanted to.

He did not wish for a repeat of his second year in any form, and as unlikely as it was that it would be as bad, the art of parselmagic was still not held in high regard.

Professor Dippet had told him that during the summer when they had discussed it.

"Well, bronze is usually good for magical resistance," Charlus mused aloud, offering the girl his assistance.

"I have been working with it," Minerva sighed. "It just won't hold up."

"Harry, what do you think?" Charlus asked.

"I think you're right," Harry replied with a frown, remembering that his own shield was constructed from the same metal. "There must be something you are missing. Why don't you show us what you have so far?"

Minerva nodded as she focused and waved her wand in an intricate pattern.

Before their eyes, a plain but no less impressive, curved disc of bronze formed and clattered to the ground, the metallic clang echoing off the walls.

"It's definitely bronze," Charlus declared as he picked it up and began inspecting it, "and flawless."

Harry too took in the sight of the conjured shield, nodding impressively as he did so, though something did catch his attention.

On his own shield, the centre was thicker, and the strongest section was intricately decorated by a trio of snakes.

Although curved, Minerva's was a consistent thickness from the centre to the edge. Balanced, but weaker.

Humming under his breath, he made the necessary adjustments.

"What did you do, Harry?" Charlus asked.

"The centre should be thicker," Harry answered simply. "That is where you will want any spell to hit and receive the most impact. The rest of it will spread throughout the shield, but it will be lessened by this part here," he explained, gesturing to the sturdier middle of the shield.

"Does that make sense?" Charlus questioned Minerva who shrugged.

"He hasn't been wrong about much yet," she returned.

"Just try it," Harry urged, pushing the shield towards Charlus.

"Why should I do it? It's not my shield."

"You don't expect Minerva to do it, do you?" Harry asked challengingly.

Charlus frowned.

"It's your work, you hold it!"

Harry chucked as he slipped his hand through the enarmes of the shield and gripped it tightly.

"Go on then, let's see if it works," he suggested.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Minerva said worriedly.

Harry shrugged.

"It's the only way we'll know."

Charlus shook his head.

"You're bloody mad Evans," he declared as he drew his wand.

"Well, that's not stopping you doing it, is it?" Harry fired back amusedly.

Charlus grinned and shot a blistering hex at him that rebounded off the shield.

"It worked," he said disappointedly.

Harry dropped the shield and shook his arm.

"It did," he agreed, "but I wouldn't recommend it."

His own shield absorbed the impact of a spell much better than this one. It felt as though his arm had almost been knocked out of the socket.

"But it's something to build on," Minerva pointed out excitedly. "It's still intact."

"That's true," Harry conceded. "We can always try some variants of it."

"Not today though," Charlus interjected. "We don't have time."

He pointed to the rest of the students that were leaving the room, and the trio followed suit, much to Minerva's consternation.

She would spend all night in the transfiguration room if she could, and had done on some occasions, though Dumbledore had not been happy about it.

"Only a few days left until the Christmas holidays," Charlus mentioned offhandedly watching to see what Harry's reaction would be.

He merely nodded but did not comment on the matter.

"You'll be going home Minnie?" Charlus pressed.

"I will be," she confirmed, though she did not seem pleased. "I always go home for Christmas."

"And what about you, Evans? What are your plans?"

Harry shrugged.

"I don't really have any for Christmas."

"I thought as much," Charlus sighed dramatically, "that's why I wrote to my parents a few days ago and asked if they would mind if you spent it with us."

Harry paused and eyed him questioningly, and Charlus felt oddly nervous about his reaction.

"I mean, you don't have to, but there's only the three of us. We don't really do anything exciting, but you're welcome to come if you'd like. At least you wouldn't be on your own here."

"You want me to spend Christmas with your family?"

Charlus nodded.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"We are."

"And I wouldn't let a friend of mine be alone on Christmas, it's not right. You don't have to give me an answer now, but think about it, Evans. My mum will love to have another person to dote on over the holidays, and my father will like you. He'll probably talk your ears off about transfiguration, but you'll be able to handle that. We even visit Godric's Hollow for the carols in the evening. It's a wonderful village where we came from."

Harry smiled.

That was where his parents had been buried, and he'd never had the opportunity to visit.

It wouldn't be the same, but it was something he wouldn't miss.

"That sounds nice," Harry replied, eliciting another smile from the boy.

"Then it's settled," Charlus declared, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Honestly mate, it will be brilliant."

Minerva offered Harry a warm smile and nodded approvingly.

He could only return the gesture, the plans Charlus had made leaving him taken aback.

He had never spent Christmas with his family, other than the Dursleys, and he had never expected such a thing would happen.

It made him feel as excited just as much as the thought filled him with apprehension, and even a little guilt.

The Potters didn't know who he was, and yet, they were opening their home up to him. Not because they were obliged to, but because he was Charlus's friend, and he would be spending the holidays alone if not.

He may no longer have carried their name, nor would they know he ever had. However, in this moment, he was proud to have once done so, proud to know just the kind of people the Potters had been.

(Break)

Arcturus Black looked on as his gathered housemates plotted in the corner of the common room, making no effort to hide what they were doing. He had known this would eventually happen, but it irritated him that they dared defy him in such a casual and insulting manner.

They were fools, all of them, blinded by vengeance for an incident they could only blame themselves for.

They had been outmanoeuvred, beaten at their own game by one that was supposed to have been brash, reckless, and impulsively courageous.

Harry Evans had proven he was not a typical Gryffindor, but a snake under the guise of a lion.

What he had done had been executed perfectly.

He had not learned of the threat against him and confronted it in an obtuse and expected way.

No. He had approached it as any Slytherin would, by finding an advantage when the odds were stacked against him.

Grudgingly, he had earned the respect of the Black heir, and Arcturus could not help but think that Abraxus and the rest of his housemates were not only out of their depth, but that if they continued on their current course, things would turn ugly.

For them mind. Evans had already proven to be sharp, and one that should not be underestimated.

Of course, Malfoy and the rest believed he had merely gotten lucky on one occasion, but Arcturus did not.

He had been watching the Evans boy during the few lessons he shared with him, and he was not one to be trifled with lightly.

He knew things, was observant, and his wand work fast and fluid.

In defence, there was none better than him in the class, something that Abraxus may have noticed if he was paying attention, but no.

Malfoy was too self-absorbed to do so, too busy bragging about his own prowess to see, let alone admit when there was someone better than him only mere feet away.

It would end badly for Abraxus if he were to prove the fool Arcturus knew him to be, and then worse for Evans when Lord Malfoy would undoubtedly hear of what happened.

A fool the Malfoy heir undoubtedly was, but his father was far from such.

A powerful man that had accumulated considerable influence. If his ire was to be turned towards a simple half-blood, Evans' life would be made an utter misery.

Well, that was unless the Potters would be inclined to intervene.

Arcturus could not see why they would, but there was no denying that Evans and Charlus had grown close these past months.

He could not hazard a guess as to what may occur in the coming days, weeks, or even months, but it was bad.

No good would come of it.

"What are they doing?" the familiar voice of his younger sister broke into his thoughts.

"Causing more trouble than they know," Arcturus muttered.

"The Evans boy?" Dorea sighed.

Arcturus nodded irritably.

"Fucking morons," he grumbled.

"They are," Dorea agreed. "He might be a half-blood, but they wouldn't stand a chance against him."

"What do you know?" Arcturus questioned with a frown.

Dorea shrugged.

"I see and hear things," she replied easily.

"Such as?"

"Well, Evans goes to the transfiguration club with Potter and McGonagall. He does dangerous things, and he does them well."

"What dangerous things?"

"He's very good with advanced animation. Imagine what he could do if he was good at transfiguration."

"Is he good at it?"

"Good enough," Dorea responded. "Good enough that I wouldn't recommend getting on the wrong side of him. He doesn't practice to hurt people, Arcturus, but to kill. His creations are lethal."

The observations of his sister did little to ease his concerns and tied in with his own thoughts on the boy.

Evans was no uneducated half-blood, but a rather talented wizard and one all should be cautious of.

If only he had a respectable name, then Abraxus would not be so bent on causing issues.

Arcturus wanted nothing of the sort.

In third and fourth year, it had been amusing to watch the drama unfold, but in less than two years, they would no longer be at Hogwarts, and he would have to co-exist with some of the purebloods in other houses at least.

The Wizengamot cared not for what house you were once in, a lesson his father had begun drilling into him during the summer.

Both Potter and Ogden were from prominent families, as was Prewett in Gryffindor house. Of course, there was the McLaggens there also, and if Fawcett was to marry Longbottom as he expected, that was connections to five of the most influential families in two houses not his own.

The fools within the room would soon learn that the influence of the Blacks was second to none, and ever the opportunists, they would fall to their knees to pucker up.

Not the others mind.

Those within the other houses would band together, and his own influence would lessen by the time he took the mantle of Lord of his family.

That, he could not allow.

He needed to remain as neutral as possible, and it seemed that was becoming less likely, all because the arrival of a half-blood.

"Then whatever happens to them will be their own fault," he snorted, "though it will reflect badly on me."

"Then why don't you speak to Evans?" Dorea suggested. "Tell him that you do not condone their behaviour, but that you cannot stop it either. You'll appear to be neutral in the whole thing by keeping yourself out of it."

Arcturus nodded thoughtfully and grinned.

"You've spent too much time with father."

"That is what he would do," Dorea pointed out.

"It is," Arcturus conceded. "Since you have been paying close attention to him, how close is Evans to Potter?"

"Close," Dorea replied. "He is spending Christmas with them."

"That is interesting," Arcturus mused aloud, a frown marring his features. "Then I should speak to Evans. I will not be caught up in what is coming."

"Trouble?" Dorea asked.

Arcturus released a deep sigh.

"More than I thought. Any idea how I can get him alone? I do not wish for it to become public knowledge."

"He attends tutoring sessions with Professor Nott on Monday and Friday evenings," Dorea informed him. "You could probably catch him on the way there or back."

"He doesn't need tutoring," Arcturus muttered. "Unless…"

"Nott thinks he has potential to go really far," Dorea broke in. "Dumbledore does it with McGonagall."

Arcturus snorted.

"He just gets more interesting."

Dorea nodded.

"He does," she agreed, "and I think that this will get messier than you think. What if Abraxus tries to ambush him again? You know he won't do it alone."

"Then Evans would have a lot of prominent families out to get him," Arcturus huffed, eying the group in the corner of the common room. "Bollocks!"

(Break)

Dear Harry,

We are sorry that you cannot join us for Christmas, but please know that we are pleased you will be spending it with the Potters.

With that being said, we must insist that you join us for Boxing Day. Perenelle is keen to see you, as am I, and we have been looking forward to it.

Albie visited a few days ago and has said how well you are doing and have adapted.

We are both very proud of you with what you have achieved thus far.

Take care, and we will see you on the 26th,

Nicholas

Harry smiled at the letter he had received, one that he had been worried about.

Only the morning after Charlus had invited him to spend the holidays, he had received the very same from the Flamels, and was pleased they had not taken offence to his predicament.

He was looking forward to seeing them also and hadn't done so since school had resumed.

Still, he had other things to occupy his mind between now and then.

He had to find time to visit Diagon Alley to buy presents and to find an apothecary where he felt comfortable enquiring about the basilisk parts.

Before that, however, he had a final tutoring session with Professor Nott to attend, something he would be late for if he did not leave soon.

With that in mind, he placed the letter in his trunk before removing the map and consulting it, a habit he had gotten into since the incident in Hogsmeade.

He did not wish to be caught off guard, though with Malfoy and his ilk currently in the Slytherin common room, tonight would not be the night for that.

Seeing that his path was clear, he gathered his things and took his leave of the tower.

It was just shy of 8pm when he arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and as always, Professor Nott was waiting for him.

"We have been working together on various things for the past six or so weeks," she began. "As I expected, you show a lot of promise as a practitioner of Defence, but that will only get you so far. I may teach the subject, but there is much more to it than merely defending yourself. Sometimes, your best defence will be an overwhelming offence."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"Tonight, we are going to duel," Nott announced, "nothing permanently debilitating of course, but I wish to see what you can do beyond defending yourself, Evans. I want you to take this opportunity to show me just how creative you can be with your attacks, and how dangerous an opponent you can be."

Her gaze was one full of curiosity, and Harry could not help but think the woman had planned this from the very start.

"Okay," he agreed tentatively, eliciting a smile from her usually pursed lips.

"There will be no need for formalities, Evans," she explained as she swept the chairs and desks to one side of the room with a wave of her wand. "Are you ready?"

Harry did not even have a chance to respond before the first spell was sent his way, but instinctively ducked it, nonetheless.

"When there are no formalities, there are no rules, Evans," Nott pointed out. "Outside of a controlled duel, you must be prepared for everything."

Taking her advice on board, he did not allow her to seize any advantage she thought she may have acquired.

He sidestepped her next offering and returned fire with a plethora of spells of his own.

Much to his surprise, she twirled gracefully between them and offered him a nod of approval.

"Excellent form," she praised, "but you made the mistake of assuming it would be enough. When the opportunity arises, you must be as relentless as you are ruthless. Now, try again."

Harry did so and found himself needing to defend between attacks as Nott had been undeterred by his onslaught, continuing to dance around his spells as she retaliated.

They continued in much the same vein for several moments, neither landing, until the Professor capitalised on an opening and Harry was sent skidding across the stone floor, though he rolled to his feet immediately and resumed where he had left off.

Nott was evidently surprised, but humoured him nonetheless, her own rhythm uninterrupted.

Try as he might, Harry could find no flaws in her technique, and it became a frustrating, unending task to get the better of her.

'The mark of a great wizard is knowing when to adapt and makes changes…'

The words the headmaster had spoken to him during the summer replayed in his mind and he nodded to himself.

His current approach was not yielding any results, so he needed to change it.

Blocking two rather unpleasant looking curses, he changed tact and took aim at the desks that had been pushed to the side of the classroom.

With a few hurried but precise waves of his wand, his work was complete, and the Professor now had something else to focus on as well as Harry.

He didn't expect his constructs to stand up to much punishment, but so long as they served their purpose to give him a viable opening, he would be fine with that.

It was not to be, however.

As though she sensed the hurriedly transfigured, club-wielding mannequins that Harry had created from three of the desks approaching, she eviscerated them with a stream of fire, reducing them to ash instantly.

"You'll have to do better than that," she grinned, once again sending a wave of spells that Harry needed to defend himself from.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled as he again found himself on the wrong end of her wand and did all he could to avoid the array of magic sent his way.

Even as he did so, he knew it was fruitless.

The woman was quicker than him, nullified any offense he mustered, and was simply better in every way.

Still, he refused to quit.

He continued to try to find a way through her impeccable defences, even taking what he knew was the slightest of openings he did spot, but to no avail.

The end for him came when she seemingly showed him too much of a gap that he believed he could slip a spell through, but he had taken the offered bait, something he did not realise until it was too late.

His breathing was laboured and head spinning as he looked up at the ceiling from where he had thudded to the ground courtesy of a concussion hex, and it took several moments for the nausea to pass before he felt well enough to sit up.

"Good," Professor Nott praised from where she had taken a seat a short distance away.

She was sweating, her hair in disarray, but was no worse for wear.

Harry felt as though a herd of Hippogriffs had ploughed through him.

"I lost," he wheezed.

The woman nodded.

"Had you have won, I would have been astounded," she replied, "but I am no less impressed by what I saw. For someone your age, you are spectacular, and you could be an excellent wizard, better than most if you wish to be."

Harry frowned.

How could she say that when she had defeated him so soundly?

"I am no slouch, Evans," she sighed. "There are few that I have met that have lasted as long as you did against me. Admittedly, I held back at first, but I really had to try to finish you at the end. That is no small accomplishment on your part."

Harry nodded as he stood.

"I still lost," he pointed out.

"And you will lose to me more in the future, but one day, you will better me," Nott returned seriously. "You see, you are fortunate in some ways. I was not born with the talent that you have been given. I had to work exceedingly hard to get to where I am, and if you put in the same work and are as dedicated as I am, you will be better, and I feel no shame in admitting that."

"Even if I'm not a pureblood?"

The woman offered him another rare smile.

"If truth be told, I look forward to you proving the likes of me wrong," she replied. "I was raised with the belief that my blood made me better, but I have seen the world, Evans. Have seen duelling contests that were dominated by mud- muggleborns and half-bloods. I learned that my ignorance and steadfast belief that I was better was folly. My brother, on the other hand, did not wish to hear it and refuses to heed the warnings and advice I have tried to give him."

"Did you expect anything less?" Harry asked.

Professor Nott shook her head.

"No," she acknowledged, "but I care for my family and the future of it. I suppose I can only hope that the future generations will not remains so wilfully ignorant. I suppose that is where you come in and why I wish to help you so much."

"To show your family that their blood doesn't make them better?"

"Not just my family, but all of them," Nott answered. "If there were more people like you then they wouldn't be able to ignore it. Don't get me wrong, Evans, I am a pureblood through and through and enjoy the privilege. I simply believe we should acknowledge talent when it shows itself and not be so prejudice against those that are different. Who's to say when we may need one another, or what brain a cure for a disease is within? Things like Dragonpox do not care what blood runs through your veins, it will kill any indiscriminately. What if it is a half-blood or even a muggleborn that can unlock the secret of beating it? Shouldn't they be encouraged to pursue careers within our world?"

"They should," Harry agreed.

"But most do not because any such position available that would allow them that opportunity is gifted to purebloods, many of whom are lazy and entitled and will never be what we need them to be."

The woman sounded much like Hermione when she went on one of her rants about the very same topic.

"That's very forward-thinking."

"I know," Nott sighed, "but I believe it is the right way of thinking. That's why I want to nurture you, for you to be someone that cannot be ignored."

"So, that I can create a cure for Dragonpox?" Harry asked confusedly.

Nott giggled.

"I think we both know you have no intention of that," she said pointedly. "No, for you to show them what a half-blood and even a muggleborn can do with the talent you have. I don't care what your passion is, Evans, I just want you to do it in a way that will prove me right. Call me petty if you will, but it is the truth."

"I don't think it's petty," Harry assured her. "If anything, I think it's admirable, but not easy."

"It won't be, but if there is any that has darkened my door since I arrived at the school that I believe can do it, it's you," she returned. "I do not know why, but I have a good feeling about you Evans. Don't prove me a fool."

"I won't," Harry promised, taken aback by how candid the woman was being.

"Good, now go and enjoy your Christmas holidays. We will resume when you return."

Harry nodded and made to leave the room.

"Evans?" Nott called, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned to face her, his hand instinctively snatching a wrapped package she had thrown to him out of the air.

"This will really help with your duelling. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Professor," Harry offered, pocketing the unexpected gift as he made a mental note to get something for the woman who was proving to be quite the enigma.

It wasn't until he was nearing the fifth floor that he remembered that he had not consulted the map to ensure his return to the tower would be uninhibited, and as the petite figure in robes trimmed in green and silver stepped in front of him, he chastised himself for his negligence.

"Miss Black," he greeted the girl, his wand ready and his senses on high alert.

"Evans, my brother wishes to speak with you," she replied bluntly. "He gives you his word as the Black heir that he means you no harm. As a gesture of good faith, I am holding his wand," she explained, showing that she was indeed in possession of two.

Harry frowned at the girl.

"And what about you? Do you wish to harm me?"

"Not unless you give me reason to. My brother is not armed, but I will be during your conversation. You can keep your wand, but if I see it, I will act accordingly."

The girl was not joking, her unwavering warning filling him with pride as he nodded.

It was hard to believe that the Dorea Black stood before him would one day become his grandmother, but as he looked upon her, he could see some familiarity there.

It was subtle, but there was a resemblance between her and his father, and even her and Harry if one were to look closely enough.

"Lead the way," he offered.

With a singe nod she did so, taking him into a seldom used classroom only a few doors down the corridor.

"Thank you for coming, Evans," Arcturus Black greeted him. "As you can see, I am unarmed and do not wish for this to devolve into anything unpleasant," he explained, holding his empty hands out to the side.

"Nor do I," Harry agreed. "I have enough problems with people in your house."

"The very thing I wish to discuss with you."

"Is this where you warn me that there will be repercussions if any harm was to come to them?"

Black shook his head.

"No, this is where I warn you that a significant number of my house is plotting to, as we would say, put you in your place. Usually, I wouldn't care, but you present a unique problem."

"And that is?" Harry pressed.

"That you will not just let it happen," Arcturus sighed. "If I thought you would listen, I would urge you to just take what was coming your way, and then leave things be. You will not do that, will you?"

Harry shook his head, and amused grin tugging at his lips.

"Not a chance."

"I thought as much," Black grumbled. "I respect that, I do, but trouble is coming, Evans. Abraxus is determined to get the better of you, and should he try again, your housemates will seek retribution, and not even Potter will be able to stop them," he explained. "Some will seek it for whatever happens to you, and others as an excuse to return to the old ways."

"I don't see how that is my problem," Harry returned. "Malfoy started this, I can promise you, Black, that I will finish it. I do not fear him or anyone in your house for that matter, and you can tell him that."

Arcturus chuckled.

"You're a ballsy little shit," he offered, "but I do not think you're seeing the bigger picture. What do you think would happen if Abraxus was to come to harm? What do you think the reaction of his father would be?"

Harry shrugged.

"I couldn't care less," he said sincerely. "Your pureblood politics don't mean a thing to me."

Arcturus nodded his understanding.

"And why would they?" he questioned. "Politics may mean nothing to you, but to me, it will be my life. The reason I am here isn't because I have suddenly developed a care for you and your kind, but because it is me that has to deal with the fallout. Soon enough, we will no longer be within these walls, and I have to be able to work with all the other purebloods."

"And that won't happen because people like to keep petty grudges alive."

Arcturus smirked.

"So, there is a politician in there somewhere," he said appraisingly. "At the very least, you understand my position."

"I understand it, but it doesn't change anything."

"I didn't expect it would," Arcturus huffed. "I merely wanted to explain the delicacy of the situation, and also assure you that I am not involved in what is on the horizon. The fools in my house are not looking to the future, to where we must be able to co-exist with those from other houses."

Harry shook his head.

"Listen, Black. To you, it may seem petty, but I am not like the idiots you call peers. I am not so petty as to come for any unless I know they are involved in any plot against me. You know what happened to Stebbins and Bulstrode, I assume?"

Arcturus nodded.

"They got off very lightly and were it not for Charlus and the others intervening, it would have been much worse for them. If Malfoy decides to stop being a coward, then I can assure you, it will be. There's a part of me that will enjoy tearing him limb from limb."

"I believe you," Arcturus replied eying him speculatively.

"Then perhaps you should warn them what awaits the next ones that make any attempt at harming me. I will hurt them, Black, and I will ensure they leave me alone. Now, if you will excuse me."

Harry made to take his leave.

"Who is your family, Evans?" the voice of Arcturus ceased his steps. "If I didn't know better, I would say that you're one of us, but Potter assures me that is not the case."

Harry snorted.

He could understand why Black would think that. There was enough of a resemblance there for the question to be viable.

"I'm not one of you," Harry assured him. "There is a distant relation but not close enough that I would call you kin."

Arcturus was a great-uncle of sorts, so he felt no guilt with such a statement, and that was why he aimed it specifically at the boy and not as a sweeping observation.

Dorea was his grandmother after all, and though he knew not how that would come to pass, it was the truth.

"But you do come form a prominent family," Arcturus stated.

"Where I come from crosses through many lines," Harry replied cryptically, "some even older than your own."

With that, he exited the classroom, leaving behind a very thoughtful Arcturus Black in his wake.

"What do you make of him?" he asked his sister.

"He's dangerous," Dorea answered simply.

Arcturus nodded his agreement.

"There's something very unsettling about him," he muttered. "As much as I wish to avoid the unpleasantness of what is coming, I am interested to see what will happen. I do not think this will end well for any, less so for Evans in the long run."

Dorea frowned.

"I'm not so sure," she whispered. "I think Evans is full of surprises. He wouldn't be so certain if he wasn't. He didn't waver once, not even at the mention of Lord Malfoy."

"He did not," Arcturus acknowledged. "I suppose all that is left is to observe what happens."

"And then what?"

Arcturus shook his head.

"I do not know," he mumbled. "Only time will tell."