Chapter 387: A Bear’s Perception

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2 May 1995, Diagon Alley

As glad as Arcturus was that Harry, his own legacy was back, he couldn't help but feel like he was punished for something, given the endless meetings and paperwork he had to deal with. It was, by far, he spent day after day, in one meeting after another, doing his best to 'legally' restate Harry to the world of the living.

If he was perfectly honest, the Black Patriarch didn't really hold out any hopes for the boy's plan of hiding the fact that he was still alive, to succeed. Sure, he went along with it to humour his ward, but to be honest, as delusional as this move was, and the fact that it practically reeked with some form of desperation, he couldn't help but be happy to see it. It was proof that Harry Potter was still a teenager at heart, one who could also make stupid decisions when he's scared or panicked.

And who could blame him? To be perfectly honest, Arcturus didn't know the specifics of what spooked the boy so much, especially someone who stared into Lord Voldemort's eyes and bullshitted his way into making the so-called Dark Lord run away in fear, without even casting a single spell. The Black Patriarch did lend his ears to Harry and was more than happy for the boy to confide in him, but something happened when he disappeared to another universe – he was still digesting that there were other universes out there – something that shook the boy to his core and made him want to disappear and live a quiet life somewhere.

It was such a complete antithesis to the boy's dream. He wanted to be remembered, to be acknowledged in the history book, to have mattered in some way. It was probably because of his upbringing. The muggles that raised him had been neglectful, almost forgetting entirely about him, and it was natural that he would crave the idea of leaving a legacy behind. Arcturus himself sympathized; he had a legacy of his own in the form of his family that he feared would fade into obscurity.

And the boy was on his way to make a name for himself. Arcturus had seen him perform feats of magic that would have made ageless masters spit out their drinks in surprise. If he had been born in any other era, maybe even a couple of decades earlier and given the time to grow, Arcturus was certain that he would have been one of the most powerful forces in history, that his name would have been immortalized. Unfortunately, the boy lived in constant fear of being hunted down. It wasn't normal for the magical world to have so many powerful mages at once.

Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, Voldemort, Lily Evans, Alexander Marinakis, Harry Potter, and Merlin know who else… This many powerhouses existing at once, through intelligence or raw power. It was wrong, and it was the prelude to say that something was coming, and it had obviously terrified the boy to his core. The boy did mention something about Ragnarök, but it was in passing and he had obviously let it slip.

Whatever had scared the boy had to have been very serious and very dangerous, if it was to make him give up on his greatest ambition, and the end of days did technically qualify. However, he expected the boy to have wanted to fight, not try to hide in obscurity.

Honestly, Arcturus was pretty impressed that the whole thing lasted as much as it did, and even then, there wasn't any form of public reveal or anything. The boy obviously had given up on hiding when Dumbledore and Grindelwald found out about him being alive. All it had taken was a couple of bribes to healers he knew to make a few reports, and then some more bribes in the ministry. He had to pay a nice bit of gold to speed up the official paperwork and had to make a petition to the Wizengamot, not that there were a lot of people there, considering the political climate in Magical Britain.

And now, he had to take all of this to reactivate his Gringotts account, something that the Goblins were very hesitant about doing. Arcturus hadn't realized just how much gold the boy had made with his investment in the Firebolt Company. He had sold his share of the company right before the Quidditch World Cup took place and the whole mess that came with it, which messed with Britain's economy. In just a few months, the boy had decided to fill his bank account with almost as much gold as most other old magical families in Britain and had succeeded.

The Goblins were looking at a lot of profits coming their way if the vault remained unclaimed for a while. They had been making a lot of gold because of how many family lines ended with the Lycans' attack on Voldemort's former supporters. There was something ironic about that. While the mages were killing themselves, the Goblins were profiting off their corpses. Arcturus had no doubt that soon, with the sudden influx of gold coming their way, the goblins would eventually rebel once more. It would probably take a few decades, maybe even a century, but they were in a position of power while the power of British mages grew weaker with every year.

Dumbledore's actions were already there to haunt them. Without him acting as a shield to offset the lack of knowledge and competence of adult mages, he had made Britain ripe for the taking. Nevertheless, Arcturus would probably be dead by the time there were consequences for this. The next generation would be the one to pay after all. If they didn't die from the end of days, or whatever.

At least his allies in Europe started to take their shit seriously. They had obviously been a bit hesitant before about doing anything about Grindelwald, but Arcturus had been overwhelmed with letters of alliances and promises of aid the day after Mount Olympus collapsed. They had obviously seen that something was coming. Those who participated in the Great War all remembered the fall of Durmstrang. It wasn't as dramatic as this, but the day Gellert Grindelwald conquered one of the biggest schools in Europe was the day the war truly began.

There was some vindication there since he had been ridiculed privately about his 'obsession with reliving the past'. Alas, he didn't have the luxury to savour this feeling. Instead, he had added the forces to the ones he had already hired. He already had thousands of Hit-Wizards under his payroll from all over Europe, and he had been training them to the bone. Sebastien Delacour was doing the same, even if he was a bit peeved at his daughter deciding to move to Italy after her graduation. In almost every country he visited, he had built a spy network and recruited forces. He had urged his allies to do the same, and with the last additions, Arcturus had technically a small army at his fingertips.

There was another resource in Britain that he had yet to try to tap into. The Lycans were unruly and undisciplined, but the potential they held was impressive. With the Red Witch's death, they were ripe for the taking. He only needed to arrange a meeting with Lupin to come to a mutual agreement. Having them join his forces would be an immense boon in the inevitable fight against Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

It was a bit cruel to think that, but Arcturus was glad that Harry's mother was dead. As much as the boy has forgiven her in death, the Black Patriarch knew for a fact that had she lived, she would have made things a lot more complicated. It was a fitting end for her, a noble one, something that it was likely that she would never surpass had she lived. He never voiced it out loud. The boy was grieving, in his own way, and he had finally started courting the Greengrass girl, which softened the blow.

It was nice to see his ward acting like a boy his age for once, and the girl did bring that out from him. The boy was in good hands there, with someone bringing him back to Earth, whenever he got cooped up. It was one less thing for the Black Patriarch to worry about. He had enough things on his plate after all.

"You! Black!"

The wizard turned towards its source, only to see a dozen young wizards looking at him, Lycans from the medallions they were wearing. They looked barely in their twenties and from the look on their faces, they weren't exactly friendly.

"How can I help you, young man?" Arcturus responded, his tone calm but authoritative.

"You know where Harry Potter is!" the leader demanded, stepping forward with a menacing glare.

"Yes, he is my ward. What's this about?" Arcturus replied, keeping his composure.

"We just want to talk. Don't worry, we'll leave him intact... maybe," the leader sneered.

Arcturus couldn't help but feel confused. He didn't think that Harry and the Lycans interacted in any way, apart from his confrontation with Remus Lupin almost a year prior. Still, it was possible that the boy didn't tell him something about that. "From the way you're acting, it seems young Harry has done something to anger you. He does tend to stir things up now and then, but attacking him or me in broad daylight is a bit reckless. Why don't you have Lupin contact me? I'm sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory agreement and address whatever has upset you."

"Mutually satisfactory?" the Lycan laughed bitterly. "The boy killed our queen, and you talk about mutual agreements? Besides, Lupin's a coward. He's afraid of the Potter boy or something. Why else would he tell us to leave the brat alone?"

Arcturus' eyes widened, finally understanding what was happening. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. Harry did not kill the Red Witch."

"We have reliable sources," the leader retorted sharply. "He killed our saviour. She gave us hope, a chance to truly live and belong, free from this curse. But you wouldn't understand, would you? To have someone who was your entire world suddenly disappear, gone without any signs, cruelly killed by a child. We believe he deserves to learn a lesson. Taking something from him would be a good start—a message. He'll take us seriously then."

The Black Patriarch met the man's eyes and gave him an unimpressed look, "Let me get this straight. You think that one of the youngest, most powerful wizards in recent history, also killed your queen, a woman known for her brutality and magical might. And your plan is to enrage him by attacking me, a well-known veteran in the Great War, the Patriarch of one of the oldest magical families in history might I add. And you seriously believe that this is a good idea? Good luck with that."

Before he could react further, one of the Lycans sprinted toward him with impressive speed, only to be bisected into two bloody pieces just as he was about to be touched. It was as if the others took that as a signal to keep attacking. Dozens more Lycans, hidden in the street, leapt at him.

Half of them transformed into wolves running toward him. Arcturus tried to apparate away, but they must have set up some wards. It seemed he would have to deal with it the hard way.

He channelled his crest to conjure an arc of dark energy, cutting the first wave of attackers in half, and followed up by creating dozens of spears made of a black metallic substance. He called it cursed steel in his youth, considering how easily it bypassed magical protection and regeneration. They were immediately banished toward the Lycans attacking him from the right, impaling them in their chests, frozen in shock as their famed regeneration failed.

Exactly, Lycans were quite powerful, especially with their regeneration. The only way to defeat them was either to use specific curses or kill them immediately. Unfortunately for them, Arcturus was somewhat of an expert in both.

He didn't really get to enjoy his temporary victory as he felt a cutting curse strike him in the back. Thankfully, he had started wearing his protective gear while going out for the better part of a year. It was still nothing too fancy, just some protective charms on light clothing, but it was doing its job.

Arcturus responded with a piercing curse, killing whoever attacked him, before conjuring a fire whip to slice the Lycans trying to overwhelm him. While doing that, he used his family crest to cast a curse. It wasn't one he cast often, as it tended to hit allies as well, but he had no one around him.

A black ball of energy appeared in his palm and flew toward the closest Lycans, drilling a hole in his chest and automatically flying toward the next target. Letting the curse do its work, Arcturus cast two cutting curses, killing two incoming wizards before shielding himself against a swarm of incoming spells.

He then conjured large hounds that emerged from the shadows, attacking the Lycans from behind, which was enough for his rampant curse to take them by surprise. The curse turned into a bolt of black lightning and electrocuted everyone nearby except him. However, this manoeuvre allowed someone to temporarily break his shield, letting a piercing curse hit him in the shoulder and a Lycan biting his arm. Thankfully, the lightning also struck his attacker, and he was able to banish him to his left. He used his family crest to conjure a wide-area curse of slowness around him, affecting the other Lycans as well. They seemed to be swimming in some sort of thick liquid, and Arcturus followed by decapitating them with a flick of his wand.

Finally, Arcturus conjured a giant cutting curse with the opponents who had been stunned by the lightning attack earlier, cutting them to pieces.

"Damn, I'm getting rusty," he muttered to himself, watching as the last Lycan fell, dead. He was a lot faster during the war. Then again, he was a lot younger.

Then his instincts warned him that someone was coming his way, and he raised his wand towards the potential attacker, only for the haze of the battle to lift slightly. Harry, his ward. He was running towards him. Arcturus felt the world turn hazy slightly. He gave his ward a brief smile as he muttered, "Harry…"

Of course, he didn't get to finish whatever he was going to say as everything turned black, and he fell down unconscious into his ward's arms.

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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr

I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.