Chapter 12: On Trial

February 13th, 1976

Dear Harry,

I wish you the best of luck with your trial.

You better be acquitted on all charges, Mr. Peverell, because I will be quite disappointed if the first boy I intended on getting to know was a criminal. Come back to me quickly; I certainly won't be visiting Azkaban, not even for you.

My thoughts and prayers are with you, Harry.

Love,

Marlene

Something squirmed deep within his chest and a warmth spread through his body. Something he had not felt ever since spending the few weeks with Ginny Weasley towards the end of his sixth year. Harry smiled down at the small note and trailed his finger over the letters and words Marlene had written to him.

The note had been passed to him yesterday by Marlene's best friend, Florence Fawley, after Charms class, with strict instructions to only read it right before the trial. It had been challenging to ignore the note for so long, especially since Marlene had kept the necessary distance to him, but Harry's decisiveness had prevailed.

"A note from a young lady?" Dorea teased him with a smile after seeing the piece of parchment in his hand.

"Yes... she is definitely a Lady." Harry grinned and stored it within his robes. He stood outside Courtroom Ten, deep down underneath London, in the Ministry of Magic. It was the day of his trial and in less than two minutes, he would be expected inside. He was more familiar with Courtroom Ten than he would have liked. The first time he had seen it was in a memory from Dumbledore, then during his own trial, and finally, to rescue muggleborns from the clutches of Dolores Umbridge during Voldemort's regime.

"You should go inside, Harry." Dorea motioned: "I will be watching from the visitors' stands."

He nodded and pulled the woman in for a hug: "It will all be fine. Your brother has taught me lots." Harry smiled.

Dorea loosened her hold on him and wiped a single tear from her eye: "You are good boy, Harry. I am certain you will be cleared."

He nodded once more and took a deep breath. The Lords and Ladies in this chamber had been told about him already from their children. Nevertheless, it was equally as important to make an exceptional first impression with them.

He strengthened his mind shields and concentrated on the task ahead. When he felt ready, he opened the large door and stepped into the enormous courtroom. Any whispers and chatters instantly died as the members of the Wizengamot noticed him enter. The few that were standing, quickly walked over to their assigned seats and watched him as he walked confidently towards the middle of the courtroom.

Just as he remembered, the walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Since this trial was public, the benches that rose on either side of him were filled with spectators and reporters. In his best impression of Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry strode over to the chair in the center of the room the arms of which were covered in chains. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor.

Just like Bellatrix, he sat on the chair like a throne and allowed his calculating eyes to roam over to the occupants of the chambers. He immediately spotted his grandfather and Arcturus Black. On the opposite side, he saw someone that was undoubtedly a Malfoy and, who he assumed to be Corvus Lestrange, right next to him. Both had smug grins on their faces. There were a few other people he recognized, including Dumbledore, whose piercing blue eyes were trained firmly on him.

"Good morning, Mr. Peverell..." The voice of Barty Crouch boomed over to him: "We apologize for any missed classes, but the matter seemed urgent."

"Good morning, sir." Harry addressed the Head of the DMLE and then turned towards either side: "And a good morning to the members of the Wizengamot and any spectators. I understand the urgency in the matter. Shall we begin?"

A few Lords raised a curious eyebrow at how well-spoken and confident he appeared. They had obviously not expected for him, as the accused, to urge for the trial to start. Others, like the more conservative fraction, simply snorted and took it as arrogance.

"Yes. We will begin." said Crouch: "Are you ready, Smith?"

With Percy Weasley not being born yet, a young blonde man, perhaps a relative of Zacharias Smith, gave a very enthusiastic: "Yes, sir!"

"Criminal trial of the thirteenth of February," said Crouch in a ringing voice, and Smith began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for wizarding document and identification integrity, and the Decree for the conservation of Ancient Houses by Harry Ignotus Peverell." Crouch shot a look at him.

"Mr. Peverell, please state your date of birth, current occupation, and full wizarding residency."

"I was born on July 31st in 1960. Starting this term, I am a student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, sorted into House Gryffindor and attending fifth year. My current residency in the wizarding world is with Lord and Lady Potter at Potter Manor near Godric's Hollow."

Charlus gave him a short nod before the majority of Wizengamot members turned towards Harry's grandfather and exciting whispers broke out. Sure, they had been seen together in public already, but only now did they learn how close the Potters and him were.

"Quiet!" Crouch's voice boomed through the courtroom: "Mr. Peverell, since you are underaged, we also require the full name of your guardian in the wizarding world."

Harry smiled: "As the orphaned heir to an ancient House I have been automatically emancipated after my 13th birthday, as per the British wizarding law. Nevertheless, as a student of Hogwarts, my legal magical guardian is currently Professor Minerva McGonagall, my Head of House."

"Quiet! Quiet!" Crouch slammed his court hammer. After shouts of disagreement that someone under the age of 17 has been emancipated surged through the courtroom. His eyes narrowed on Harry, but he gave a short nod: "That is indeed the law, Mr. Peverell. Let us, therefore, continue..."

"Interrogators: Barthemius Caspar Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Millicent Aurora Bagnold, Minister of Magic."

Harry shot a glance over to the woman next to Crouch with brown hair and eyes.

"Court Scribe, Samuel Zacharias Smith" He glanced back to Harry: "Mr. Peverell did you bring any legal representation for today?"

"No, I will be representing myself!" Harry declared firmly.

"This is outrageous!" Someone yelled from the crowd: "A minor cannot represent himself in the court of law."

Harry narrowed his eyes at someone who showed resemblance to Theodore Nott from his own timeline: "You have charged me like an adult, Lord Nott, and we have just established that for as long as you cannot prove your claim of line theft, I am indeed an emancipated minor and heir to an ancient house. I would like to ask you why you are under the impression that it's fine to judge me as an adult, but not to allow me to represent myself, as is the right of any adult?"

A few people started nodding their heads in agreement. Harry saw a smirk on Arcturus' face: "I am waiting, Lord Nott." Harry spoke up.

"We will continue...!" Crouch interfered when Nott did nothing more but curse Harry under his breath: "... With the charges!"

Immediately, it went silent once more.

"The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, falsify a birth certificate, falsely identified as the last descendent of a most ancient House and thereby began line theft of a most ancient House."

"How does the accused plead?"

"Not Guilty!" Harry's voice boomed through the courtroom, followed by short gaps from the visitors' benches and yelps of outrage from the conservative ranks. Crouch silenced the courtroom once more before he continued: "Let it be noted that the accused pleads not guilty!"

"Very well, then." Crouch skimmed over his notes: "Let us begin with your first charge: Falsify of a birth certificate! Mr. Peverell, we were unable to verify the authenticity of your birth certificate because not a single ICW nation held any public or non-public records on you. I will therefore have to ask where you have been born and grew up."

"You will not find any documents or information on me before my family continued living in secrecy after moving away from magical Britain to the continent." Harry explained: "For several generations, the Peverells lived in a muggle settlement in Liechtenstein. Due to the cautiousness of my forefathers, you will not find any muggle documentation of us either. As I said, my family, for reasons I don't have to share, preferred to live in total secrecy."

Crouch grimaced and clenched his teeth. The reason was simply: Liechtenstein was not an ICW nation, and the country was so small that the majority of wizards simply moved to one of the larger neighboring countries, including Germany, Switzerland, or Austria. However, it was widely known that not all of them moved.

"This is a mockery of the court!" Abraxas Malfoy spoke up: "There is no way for us to confirm this story." The conservative faction voiced their agreement with Malfoy's statement.

Harry merely smiled. They were walking right into his trap: "Are you asserting that in all of Liechtenstein you will not find a single wizarding family that decided to remain there and not be registered with the magical authorities of the neighboring countries, Lord Malfoy?" Harry spoke up.

A few people shook their heads, making such a claim would be idiotic and foolish. Malfoy looked baffled. He could not make such a claim without individually assessing the few thousand families in Liechtenstein and checking that indeed none of them were magical.

"If not, then I suggest you let us continue, Lord Malfoy!" Harry says: "I am innocent until proven guilty. If no one here can state with an absolute guarantee that my statements were incorrect, then he implies that there would be no wizarding families remaining in Liechtenstein, who followed the same procedure. I think we can all agree that none of us would make such a claim."

"We have received notice that since your parents have been killed, you were forced to live with muggles!" Lord Lestrange spoke up confidently: "Muggles have different documentation methods!"

"I would like to know your source for that information?" Harry grinned: "Unless general hearsay and schoolyard rumors now count as official evidence to be used in court? I am being tried for falsifying my birth certificate. I have just demonstrated the opposite and you are unable to prove me wrong. My parents' speculated death or my upbringing have nothing to do with my birth certificate, Lord Lestrange, or do you suggest otherwise?"

"You dare..." The man growled.

"Lord Lestrange!" Crouch interfered and slammed his court hammer once more. "Due to lack of evidence, we will continue to the second charge which goes hand in hand with the final charge. Mr. Peverell, you are charged with fraudulently claiming to be the last descendant of the Peverell line and face the charge of line theft. Even if your birth certificate was valid, it does not hold as legitimate proof that you are indeed the last descendant of the Peverell line and may call yourself heir. Therefore, you are not entitled to a seat within this chamber. We await your statement."

Harry allowed the dramatic pause to stretch for a few seconds. The next part would be the most important one. So far things were going according to plan. He ignored the occasional camera flashes behind him and continued

"The proof rests on my finger, Lords, and Ladies of the Wizengamot." Harry stood up from the seat and raised his arm high into the air, presenting the Peverell ring: "This ring has been passed down within my family for over one millennium. As the last descendant of the Peverell Clan, I am in my right to wear it!"

"The ring could be a fake!" Lord Malfoy yelled and received murmurs of agreement from all around him.

"Lord, Malfoy, are you knowledgeable in what happens when the ring of a House is removed against the owner's will..." Harry smirked: "Because I dare you to come down here and try to remove it or even put it on your own finger. As most of you, Lords and Ladies, will know, the consequences would be quite severe. Well? What are you waiting for, Lord Malfoy? Are you not that confident in your statement anymore?"

A few people in the spectators' seats and members in the neutral and light fraction snickered. Malfoy exchanged whispers with a few of the people around him: "You could have easily placed a fatal charm on the ring yourself, which will only strike once someone removes the ring against your will. That is not proof that the ring is authentic, boy!"

"Let us ignore Lord Malfoy's lack of proper conduct and address his statement instead of his manners," Harry smirked, enjoying the visible hatred on Grandpa Ferret's face.

"You are right of course..." Harry nodded: "Which is why I suggest we invite an Unspeakable to verify the ring's age and at what point in time any charms have been put on this ring. If the charms are older than 16 years old, then they must have been cast before my birth."

A few people nodded in agreement, even Crouch seemed like he played with the idea, simply to get the matter over with.

Harry decided to go on the offense: "Be warned, Lord Malfoy... Should the Unspeakable confirm my story, then I insist you wear this ring, so you can witness and experience how wrong you are in your assertion. After all, it would be quite an act of cowardness to proclaim such a thing and not back it up with actions, would it not? What do you say, Lord Malfoy? Shall we call the Unspeakable and verify it?"

Malfoy looked absolutely puzzled. Of course, he was quite certain that the boy was lying, but even if there was only the slimmest chance of him telling the truth, he would not put his life on the line.

"That will not be necessary, I think." A man with brown hair and ice-blue eyes intervened. Harry frowned... He knew those eyes because they have been swirling around his mind for the last few weeks. This man was Lord McKinnon... Marlene's father: "However, the ring could have simply been in your family's possession for several generations already, thereby supporting your claim without actually proving your identity. Its crest might also display the Peverell coat of arms, yet that still does not prove that you are the last descendant."

Harry listened intently, however, he did not like the direction this was going. Lord McKinnon continued after ensuring everyone was on the same page: "Do not mistake this for an actual assumption, Mr. Peverell, but your family could have easily made use of the fact that the main Peverell line died out and proclaimed to be the next descendants. It would be hard to refute such a claim. I am certain if we simply go back far enough, that many families of our Lords and Ladies in this chamber had Peverell blood flowing through their veins at some point."

Harry grit his teeth. The man was smart and his logic flawless. He had to do something, otherwise, he would lose the momentum he had just gained.

"A very interesting proposition, Lord McKinnon," Harry spoke up loud and confidently. The man raised an eyebrow, not having expected to be recognized by someone who had only recently moved to Magical Britain.

"May I assume that you are familiar with the concept of family magic, my Lord?" Harry inquired.

"You may assume so." The man nodded curiously.

"For those who are not familiar with it..." Harry turned to the other Members of the Wizengamot: "Family magic or its more common Latin translation, Magia Familiae, is the term for any magical skill or ability, which might be passed down in blood only. The most prominent example would be Parseltongue. I am sure everyone will agree with me when I say that any English-speaking Parselmouths must be direct blood relatives of the great Salazar Slytherin."

The conservative and darker fraction seemed very surprised at his declaration but nodded nonetheless, as did many other members of the Wizengamot. Harry noticed Charlus shooting him a frown and a questioning look. He continued:

"Well, the Slytherin line is not the only line with family magic. Are you familiar with the totem of the Peverell Clan, Lord McKinnon?"

"It should be Thestral, should it not?" The man stated, receiving nods of confirmation from all around him.

"You are correct, my Lord." Harry smirked: "Members of the Wizengamot..." Harry paused dramatically: "I suggest you all observe carefully now."

The Elder Wand was in his hand within a split second and pointed at his own throat:

"Coniuro Familiam Magicae!" He roared.

The familiar heat burst from Harry's lungs and surged up his throat. This time, he was prepared for the temporary block of his vision as the blackish flame rushed out of his mouth with a roar and hovered in front of him, right in the middle of the Courtroom. All around him, screams and yells filled the chamber while watching an unknown piece of magic being performed.

"Someone arrest the boy!" Lord Malfoy shouted.

"It is his family magic!" Arcturus Black intervened: "Let him continue and see for yourself, you blithering idiots!"

The blackish flame twisted and formed into a pitch-black Thestral, slightly taller and stronger than last time, almost as if it had read Harry's intent to make an impression. Just as Harry remembered, the Crest of the Peverell Clan was deeply carved into its black skin. The Thestral flapped its wings as it turned towards the shocked members of the Wizengamot. Behind Harry, flashes of light indicated that the many reporters had finally recovered from their shock and were taking pictures.

The ethereal creature galloped into a defensive position behind Harry and spread its blazing wings to cover him from any of the flashes. Harry decided to address the gaping Lords and Ladies, for as long as his companion was still with him.

"This is my family magic, Lord McKinnon." Harry's voice boomed over the flashes of cameras and occasional gasps: "No doubt, some of you may have the tiniest traces of Peverell blood in your veins. Nevertheless, only a witch or wizard, within whom the Peverell blood dominates any other magical bloodlines, would be able to perform this spell!"

He paused briefly and allowed everyone around him to calm down a bit: "I don't recommend petting it, but I hope this little demonstration is sufficient to prove that the blood in my veins is indeed that of the Peverells and I am their rightful descendent and heir! Does anyone still doubt my word?"

The entire hall was silent. Harry's eyes searched for his grandfather, who was looking in awe at what he saw. Next to him, Lord Black gave him a short nod. Harry was certain there was something like pride in his gray eyes. "Then I rest my case! I apologize should my action have startled some of you. That was not my intention."

"I think it's quite alright, Mr... Heir Peverell..." Crouch quickly corrected himself: "If you don't mind, I think your companion is no longer needed..."

"Of course, sir." Harry grinned and turned around. He flicked his wand at the ethereal creature and thrilled his intent through the thin piece of wood, willing it to vanish into nothingness. Luckily, it worked flawlessly. That would have been quite embarrassing otherwise.

"Members of the Wizengamot." Harry spoke up once more: "I defended myself against the accusations and hope to have persuaded you. I came to this country as a foreigner, comfortable with a life in secrecy. I, therefore, understand the suspicion. However, the actions of some of you and the outlandish accusations have brought shame to these halls. I sincerely hope that with your verdict we can start anew and put them behind us."

The Lords and Ladies began whispering among themselves for roughly a minute. Harry noticed that even some Lords in the darker faction distanced themselves from Malfoy and Lestrange. Finally, Crouch spoke up: "Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?"

Hands went up. Lots of hands, more than he would have expected.

"And those in favor of conviction?"

Out of the over 50 members, barely a dozen raised their hand, among them Malfoy, Lestrange, Avery, Nott and Flint, and Selwyn. Harry would remember their names and faces for when the time was right.

"Harry Ignotus Peverell, you are hereby cleared of all charges!" Crouch slammed down his court hammer: "Allow me to be the first to apologize for having doubted your narrative."

"I accept your apology, Lord Crouch." Harry nodded: "I will not be resentful with any that might have doubted me."

A few gaps of relief sounded through the chamber. The Lords obviously did not want to have him as an enemy now after that demonstration.

"However, the Peverells have returned to Magical Britain after over 500 years and instead of being welcomed with open arms by my fellow Lords and Ladies, my good name was slandered and dragged through the mud. I hereby demand compensation from the Houses of Lestrange and Malfoy!"

Shouts of outrage echoed from the two accused Lords and their surrounding allies. Yet their protests were drowned out by approval from many other Lords and especially the Spector rose, who just wanted to see some drama. The flashes of cameras behind Harry went off once more. He cast a silent voice amplification charm on himself and continued:

"For the slander of my name and ancestry, I demand compensation of 100,000 galleons. However, I give you a choice! You have proclaimed I am not the heir to my family. I demand recompense! An heir for an heir!" By now Harry was almost shouting. The courtroom erupted into utter chaos.

Harry's voice boomed: "I HEREBY CHALLENGE THE MALFOY OR THE LESTRANGE HEIR TO A DUEL OF HONOR!"

"YOU CAN HAVE YOUR DUEL, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" A familiar voice echoed over to him from the spectators' stand. Harry turned around with a cold grin and looked at a significantly younger Lucius Malfoy, who was shaking with rage.

"NO, LUCIUS!" Abraxas Malfoy tried to intervene.

"I, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, accept your challenge!" The platinum-haired man sneered, ignoring his father.

"So mote it be then." Harry allowed for his eyes to flash a brilliant green and turned towards the door, ignoring any questions from the reporters.

He waited outside the courtroom, taking a couple of deep breaths. Things had gone decently well, but not completely according to plan. Marlene's father's flawless argumentation had forced him to reveal his trump card, something that will certainly gain the attention of Voldemort a bit earlier than he had anticipated.

However, with Lucius accepting the duel, it was inevitable that his name would be carried all the way to the Dark Lord. He did not know if Lucius was marked yet, but he undoubtedly already made connections with other death eaters. Voldemort certainly won't like that the blonde ferret had agreed to a duel with an unknown opponent.

His thoughts of the upcoming duel were interrupted by the arrival of his grandmother, who practically ran over towards him and engulfed him in a strong hug: "You were so amazing, Harry. Not that I had doubted your story for a second, but your entire argumentation and how you demonstrated that family magic was spectacular!"

"It certainly was." Charlus Potter spoke up, as he left the courtroom, followed by a flock of reporters, desperate for a statement from the family Harry lived with: "I suggest we get out of here. There is no point in flooing back to Hogwarts now, classes can wait for one day. I suggest we head to the Leaky Cauldron for something to eat and you spend the night at Potter Manor. Minerva had mentioned that it is no problem if you return tomorrow."

Harry nodded his agreement and walked back to the elevator, flanked by his grandparents and Arcturus, who joined them shortly after: "I was not certain if you had it in you, boy, but you have convinced me of the opposite. A fine job, you did there. You were courteous and honored our traditions, yet ruthless to those who wronged you. Dorea was right. There is certainly something of a Black in you!"

Harry shot the man a smile: "Thank you, sir. I am certain there is..."

February 13th, 1976, Riddle Manor

Voldemort looked up from the old tome he had been examining when Abraxas Malfoy entered his private study at Riddle Manor. Who would have thought that his muggle's grandparents' luxurious estate, will one day serve as temporary headquarters for him? "Lord Malfoy..." The Dark Lord inclined his head: "I assume the trial of the Peverell boy is finished?"

Over the last few weeks, a few of his blood-obsessed followers have been murmuring about the boy, who had appeared out of nowhere. The dark Lord had never heard of the family before and even doubted the boy's identity himself. He had grown a little curious when Lord Lestrange reported that the boy confronted eight upper-year Slytherins by himself and demonstrated advanced techniques in Defense against the Dark Arts.

However, at the end of the day, they were bickering and complaining about a child that has not even sat his OWLs yet. There was no time to waste on such trivial little nuisances when his ambitions extended as wide as magical Britain in its entirety. He had quickly lost interest in the boy after hearing that he had been sorted into Gryffindor and befriended the Potters. Recruiting him would undoubtedly be near to impossible.

"Did things not go according to your plan, Lord Malfoy?" His eyes narrowed as he noticed the man's anxiety and the outright hostility on Abraxas' face.

"It certainly did not!" The man fumed: "The boy... We have underestimated him. He has a way with words and argued himself out of trouble."

The Dark loud suppressed a grin at the humor of the situation. Usually, it was Abraxas, who used his slippery tongue to keep himself out of trouble... It was rather ironic to see the man on the receiving end of his own tactic: "I am certain you will not repeat the same mistake again. Perhaps we can dedicate our attention to more important matters than a schoolboy now."

"That schoolboy just left every Lord in this damn country gaping with their mouths open after what he has performed in the middle of the fucking courtroom." Abraxas spat.

The Dark Lord quashed his anger and reminded himself that he was in dire need of the Malfoy fortune for his future operations... War was costly after all: "You will have to elaborate on that, Lord Malfoy."

"Perhaps you should see for yourself then." He grimaced and brought his wand to his temple to subtract, what the Dark Lord assumed, was the memory of the event.

"I shall watch it and share my opinion with you, Lord Malfoy." Voldemort conjured a small vial and handed it over to the man, accepting it back after the memory was safely stored.

"See that you do!" The man scowled while walking up and down: "I want him dealt with before my family pays the price."

The Dark Lord knew not what exactly was meant by that, but he assumed the memory would provide all the information he required. He walked over to the Pensieve, he had acquired during his years of travel and dove in headfirst.

Roughly an hour later, he emerged after having witnessed the entire event. To say that he was surprised would be an understatement. The boy was an enigma. How could someone so young carry themselves with that amount of confidence? Harry Peverell had walked into a chamber where the majority of the Lords wanted him thrown into Azkaban and exited it an hour later after leaving an impression the Lords would never forget for the rest of their lives.

His argumentation was precise and coherent. He was knowledgeable of the laws or at least knew exactly how to make it seem that way. He did not shy down from confrontations. No... He even openly challenged Nott, Malfoy, and Lestrange. Very curious indeed. Harry Peverell had walked into that courtroom and knew he would be victorious, no matter the odds he was facing…

And then, there was his performance of family magic. His comparison to Slytherin was brilliant. It was pleasantly surprising to see a Gryffindor refer to the Dark Lord's ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, in a positive way. Yet, what he explained made perfect sense. Why indeed, should Slytherin have been the only one to preserve a skill within his own blood, to ensure it could only be passed down to his descendants.

The Peverells... The Dark Lord had encountered a Thestral at Hogwarts for the first time when he returned for his sixth year, after having killed his father and grandparents. He didn't know much about the creatures, but the display of magic was very impressive, nonetheless. He wondered what else the family magic might entail. Any magic that was unfamiliar to him was a potential threat after all...

"Well?" Abraxas asked challengingly.

"I am afraid Lucius has acted foolishly by accepting that challenge. The galleons might put a dent in your vault, but I am certain you value your son's life a lot more... But worry not, Lord Malfoy." The Dark Lord smiled coldly: "Have you not taught your son in the arts of dueling yourself? Surely you don't expect him to lose to a boy without a single OWL?"

"I am afraid Lucius will not act rationally and will be driven by rage. This feud between the two is something more personal." Abraxas fingers twitched: "Apparently Peverell has been seen at Hogwarts with Narcissa Black, Lucius' betrothed."

"It is jealousy, then?" The Dark Lord snorted, unable to hide his disgust at the display of such a pathetic emotion.

"Perhaps... I don't know!" Abraxas snapped: "All I know is that I won't endanger my son by allowing him to duel against someone of unknown strength."

"I don't see how we might be able to interfere..." The Dark Lord chuckled.

"Luckily they have not arranged a date yet." Malfoy's eyes beamed up: "There is a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. Perhaps we can lay a trap for the boy in the village..."

Voldemort shook his head: "I will not risk exposure of my entire operation just so your foolish son does not have to duel a school child. If you want the boy dealt with, you can always ask Lestrange and have his son take care of him. That is my last word on the matter." He added slightly threateningly.

Abraxas scowled at him one last time and left his study. The Dark Lord shook his head. Such childish drama, when there was so much more at stake... And yet, Peverell proved to be an interesting new character, albeit a young one. Certainly, he was not the only one who had been made aware of the boy.

"Very curious indeed..."He hissed.