Còir Buaidh

The Early Years 7

... ...

“You really should be paying more attention to this, Dòmhnall. While it will be years until you can take your seat, or even nominate someone to speak on your behalf, you can learn much about the workings of those in power even now.”

I looked up from The Elements and You: A Concise Understanding of Elemental Magic – which I’d picked up from Obscurus Books the same day I’d gotten my wand – to look at my companion in this private waiting room underneath the Wizengamot chamber. “What? About how many here seem to enjoy doing nothing but listening to the sound of their own words? Or how they jeer and jest when arguing over matters that seemingly have little importance to them?” I shook my head. “No, I’d rather continue to read my book.”

Melania sighed, her eyes wandering over the book in my hand, and the pouch at my expanded waist that contained five more books. However, those were Tamhas’ first-year school textbooks that I’d read a dozen times each already and I’d only brought them with me on the chance I was told to not read a book on elemental magic in the Wizengamot. With this world being vastly different from my former one, I’d hoped that observing the workings of the government might offer me some insight, but it seemed the habit of most politicians – be they elected or hereditary – of grandstanding and droning on and on was a universal constant.

The banging of a gravel drew my eyes up from my book, and I looked at the entrance of our waiting room into the Wizengamot hall. While the doors were closed, they were working as a magical TV screen allowing us to watch events in the chamber. Yet, several hours later, filled with meandering discussions and debates on things ranging from the price of pixie dust through the current funding of the national Quidditch teams to a debate on educating Muggleborn children before they attended a magical educational institution, all I hoped, for now, was to get my piece done and get the fuck out of dodge.

“I now call to order a report from the Auror Division regarding events that took place on June twenty-first of this year; or as the newspapers have dubbed it, the Summer Solstice Massacre.” The statement came from Nobby Leach; the current Minister of Magic and the first muggle-born to hold the post. While it wasn’t quite why I was here, I wanted to hear what was said.

As an old figure in dark red robes – marking them as a member of the Ministry – stood, I marked my place in the book and slid it into my pouch.

"Minister, in the months following the heinous attack on twelve clans, all of whom held seats in this esteemed assembly, my office, in collaboration with a unit of Unspeakables, has conducted a thorough examination of the massacre site, scrutinising every inch. While we have verified the identities of the victims, the ongoing investigation prohibits me from disclosing the identities of the suspected attackers," causing a growing discontent among those present. "However, I can confirm that among the nineteen bodies associated with the perpetrators, eight are definitively traced back to foreign origins. Specifically, three from the Magical Union of North America, two from the Magical French Republic, and three from the United German States." This announcement not only amplified the murmurs but also ignited a palpable undercurrent of anger in the chamber.

As I processed what the head of the DMLE had said, and he let the chamber simmer for a moment, I considered the fact the magical world I was in was nothing like the muggle world; nor that seen in Harry Potter. That made perfect sense as there was no logic in countries formed after the Statute of Secrecy came into effect in the muggle world being mirrored in the magical world.

The Magical Union of North America was, in real-world terms, an amalgamation of most of what was the USA and Canada, with the centre of the continent under the control of native tribes. It seems that in this world when the colonisation of the Americas took place, magicals there fought against the invaders far more effectively than their muggle counterparts did. Thus, while states like Ohio and Wisconsin existed in the muggle world, they didn’t in the magical one; instead, swathes of land remained under the control of the native tribes. However, over time, those tribes joined the MUNA, with the current leader being from the Sioux.

The Magical French Republic occupied almost the same area as real-world France, though they also controlled some of what would be Belgium and Luxembourg in the Muggle world. The United German States, meanwhile, was formed from the former magical members of the Holy Roman Empire that bound together to resist threats from the French to the west, a unifying Italian peninsula to the south, Austrian and Poland-Lithuania Empires to the east and a semi-unified Norse League – which still followed the old ways and worshipped Odin and the Norse Pantheon – that stretched from the Black Sea and the gates of the Great Prussian Republic to the shores of muggle Canada.

And that was only the situation in Europe and part of North America. The rest of the world was just as radically different as one would expect with a world diverging at the end of the eighteenth century and with magic thrown into the mix at a time when the muggle world’s opinion of it varied dramatically.

“And what of the other perpetrators? Have no leads been discovered regarding who they were, or what drove them to commit this atrocity?” The Minister demanded, aided by cheers of support from around the chamber.

“There are leads, Minister. However, some of those bodies found are connected to the various houses that were attacked, so we cannot be sure if they were there as guests of their lord, or somehow involved in arranging and orchestrating the attack.” The chamber erupted in another chorus of shouts, and it was evident that the assembled lords were unhappy with the insinuation that cadet branches of a house had orchestrated the attack on a fellow lord and their family, viewing it as a direct threat to their own status. Such circumstances had previously sparked at least one brief civil conflict within magical Britain since the implementation of the Statute, and similar incidents had unfolded in other nations as well. “As for those bodies not linked to an attack house, they were mainly fringe members of our society, not seen in civilised circles for many years. Thus, tracking their movements before the attack is proving difficult to determine.”

I furrowed my brow, contemplating whether the head of the DMLE possessed additional information that he was choosing not to disclose due to the current audience. As far as my knowledge goes, there had been longstanding animosity dating back to the era preceding the Statute between the clans of Scotland. The Island clans harboured resentment toward the Highland clans, and to some extent, the Irish ones, although my ancestral records suggested that the MacLeods might have been an exception. Furthermore, both the Island and Highland clans frequently found themselves at odds with the Lowland clans. However, it was a common thread among all of them to hold a deep-seated historical aversion to English lords and houses, mirroring to some extent the sentiments in the non-magical world.

“This information does little to calm the concerns of the esteemed members of this body,” the Minister commented, before turning his ire upon the Head of the DMLE. “We hope that a full report can be submitted to us before the Winter Solstice.”

Cries of ‘hear, hear’ and ‘indeed’ rang out around the chamber as the Head of the DMLE nodded in acceptance of the order and then sat. When he did, the Minister turned their attention to the full chamber.

“It is almost time,” Melania commented as the Minister's gaze swept over the gathered lords and chiefs. “The first order of official business will be swearing in of new lords and chiefs. After that, which will include your reveal as the MacLeod, the Wizengamot can begin.”

I fixed her with a withering glare but held back the comments running around my head. If the last three hours had been discussions regarding old business, I feared how long they would go when new business was brought before them. Plus, I was glad I wouldn’t have to attend these meetings regularly and was already making plans to find someone – anyone – to sit as my voice in the chamber. Losing a day for each session of the Wizengamot – something Arcturus told me occurred once a week while in session – felt like a willing submission to torture.

The Minister banged their gravel once more, though this time a loud gong sounded. As the members present stood, music echoed around the chamber. Melania dragged me to my feet just before it started playing and I had to suppress an eyeroll at the fact that even in the magical world, anthems had to be played. I mean, it wasn’t as if anyone here swore allegiance to the Queen, nor followed the will of a Prime Minister or President, yet still, there was an anthem.

Once the thankfully short piece of music ended, everyone sat again. Save for the Minister.

"Before we proceed to our planned agenda, I wish to address the events of June twenty-first this year. Although those actions were undeniably abhorrent, they do not compel us to inscribe all the names onto the roll of The Fallen," declared the Minister, raising a clenched fist emphatically. "No, these cowards will not fracture our unity or push our people toward oblivion. Today, as we mourn our losses, we also welcome those prepared to step forward; to fill the void, and help guide our people into the future."

I saw two people – older boys who barely looked old enough to shave never mind become clan chiefs – step through doors that led to where the various lords were sitting. From the sigils each wore on a tartan sash, I knew instantly they were from clans MacDonald and MacKinnon.

“Chief Seumas MacDonald and Chief Fearchar MacKinnon step forward and recite your oaths.”

I watched as the two young lords moved to the front of the chamber, reaching the edge that looked down onto the black marble floor I would soon step onto. Chief Seumas stood out as his left arm was a construct, one made to replace the limb lost in the Massacre. Together, the pair recited an oath in Latin to swear to uphold the laws of the Wizengamot and abide by its rulings. I felt magic shift around me as the chamber, according to what Arcturus explained was a magical contract – though one with several loopholes that no lord ever sought to close – reacted to accept their oaths.

“Your oaths are heard and accepted. Please be seated.” The pair moved to seats in the chamber which held no indication of their political views and were instead a simple designation of their clan’s status. Fearchar MacKinnon took a seat in the lowest near, closest to the light illuminating the chamber while Seumas MacDonald – whose house was only Ancient and Noble compared to the Mackinnon’s who was Most Ancient – sat in the row behind. That was the row I would one day sit in. Provided I lived long enough to take my seat.

“Heirs MacGregor and MacKenzie, please step forth.” The light illuminating the chamber grew brighter as two children, one boy and one girl though both of school-age stepped into the centre of the room. “The Wizengamot, in conjunction with blood rituals performed by Gringotts, recognizes you as heirs to your clans. Let it be known that any who move against you, move against all in this chamber. Until you are of age and have passed your OWLs, your enemies are our enemies.” The Minister raised his wand and brought forth a sphere of white light signifying his agreement with this pact. An act copied by every member of the chamber.

Again, I felt magic move in the air of the chamber, proving the vows were genuine. Even if there were blood feuds between the clans of the two students and another lord in the chamber, no move could be made against them until they were of-age. Additionally, according to Melania, no move would be made until an heir was born and over the age of five. The destruction of any house or clan that was considered Established – that is, it had produced ten straight generations of wizards or witches – was considered an act against the Wizengamot itself. Hence why the Summer Solstice Massacre was such major news.

As the magic in the chamber receded, everyone lowered their wands. “Until you are ready, your seats will remain empty; waiting for the day you can join us as a peer.” The two students nodded and turned, letting me see their faces, and moved out of the chamber floor. The girl – from clan MacKenzie – had long blonde hair tied back in an intricate braid, and, under the sash, she wore her clan’s sigil, wore her school robes, though they were devoid of any house colours. The MacGregor boy similarly wore his school uniform along with the sash and sigil, but there was something in his walk that irked me. An arrogance that was unearned if the way the girl glared at him was any indication.

“Sadly, of the twelve clans that were so attacked, only these four have confirmed lords or heirs of age that…”

“Minister,” Arcturus’ voice cut in, “I wish to call a point of order.”

The Minister sighed. “We recognize Lord Black.” I watched as the screen I was observing split, showing both the Minister and Arcturus as he stood.

“Minster, members of the Ministry, fellow Lords, Ladies, Chiefs and Chiefesses, I, like everyone here, agree that the events of this past summer are reprehensible and the act of those with no understanding nor appreciation of the rules and order that govern our world. That is why, it gladdens my heart to announce to all that there is a survivor of another clan.” Arcturus pulled a sheet of parchment from his robes; one I knew was my blood confirmation ritual. “This blood ritual performed by Gringotts not only confirms that an heir exists, but they have already claimed their title as chief.”

The minister frowned, and I wondered if he’d been caught unaware of Arcturus’ ploy. Since I didn’t know the interplays going on though, that was only a feeling.

“Then where is this chief?” That came from another member of the Ministry.

“Amice Lufkin,” Melania supplied with a clipped tone hinting at issues between the Blacks and this lady. “Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and something of an irritant to many bills sponsored by Arcturus and his allies.” I nodded in understanding even as Arcturus seemed to focus on Lufkin.

“With the Minister's permission, I would ask him to come forth.” The Minister nodded and just before Melania stood and tapped her wand to open the door into the chamber – thus making the screen we were watching through seemingly vanish – I swore I saw the Head of the DMLE smirk.

“Go on,” Melania said with a soft smile, “and remember what you were taught.”

I nodded my thanks and stepped into the chamber. Immediately, howls of derision and ridicule raced through the chamber. Many commented on how I was a child without a wand, or a ploy brought forth to allow someone – Arcturus obviously, but they didn’t openly state that – to gain control of Clan MacLeod’s votes. I ignored the comments even as I marched to the centre of the chamber, keeping my eyes locked on the Minister.

Once there, I lifted my arm and willed the torc to appear. That shut up the chamber quicker than Grindelwald appearing amongst them, and I couldn’t help but smile. I watched as the Minister seemed to freeze and choke as his eyes locked on the torc; an action mirrored by others I assumed.

“Might we know your name, Chief MacLeod?” The question came from the head of the DMLE, who wore a small, amused smile suggesting he knew this was going to happen. From the way the Minister was still struggling to process events, it appeared he’d failed to pass said information on to his superior.

“Dòmhnall Fionnlagh MacLeod. Son of Aonghus Ewan Macleod and Kara MacLeod, nee MacDougall.”

“I see you bear the torc signifying your status as The MacLeod,” I lowered my head to confirm that to the man, “However, the law is quite clear on the matter. Unless you also have a wand, then this august body cannot recognize you as chief, and grant you our protection until you are of age.”

“Yes, yes!” The Minister jumped in, agreeing with his department head. A wide, almost vindictive smile crept onto his face. “I’m afraid that is the law, therefo…”

I was barely able to keep a manic grin from my face as I pulled my wand from my robes and held it aloft. The expression of the Minister as he realised his still developing plan to deny me protection – whether because of bad blood with my father, Arcturus or both, I couldn’t say – died on his lips. “Lumos,” I said softly and a ball of radiant light, one that bore tints of green that reminded me of the ward core of my castle, appeared from the tip of my wand.

It'd only taken me about twenty minutes to learn this spell, and that was mainly time taken up by Melania’s teaching and Gervaise Ollivander taking me proper wand care and maintenance. I already knew the theory of the spell, both from my memories and my sibling’s schoolbooks. Plus, as possibly the simplest charm that existed, it was all I needed to learn to prove I could cast magic. Of course, the first day of casting involved me shouting it every time I wanted to cast. Now, just a day later, I’d gotten it down to a whisper, which according to the Blacks was impressive, even if it was insanely simple to cast.

“As you can see, Minister, Chief MacLeod does have a wand and can cast magic,” Arcturus commented. His tone was relaxed but carried an air of amused superiority. “The wand was commissioned with Lord Gervaise Ollivander, who can confirm the construction and delivery of said wand.”

“That I can and do,” Gervaise said without standing, his voice laced with amusement.

Another round of murmurs ran through the chamber, though these grew louder and louder until something akin to thunder echoed around the chamber. “Order!” The voice came from a station above where the Minister and his staff sat. As I looked up a new box was showered in light, exposing an old wizard in robes that reminded me of those worn by Jedi. “There will be order!”

The man, who given his location and robes must be the Chief Warlock and thus the lawkeeper of the Wizengamot, glared down at the gathered wizards and witches, and silence quickly fell over the chamber. “Chief MacLeod, step closer.” I did as he asked, ending the Lumos charm as I moved. “By the laws set forth in the days predating even the Wizarding Council of these Isles, you are recognized by magic as The MacLeod. However, due to your age, there are various rules and statutes imposed by this body that, for the first time in nearly two hundred years, come into effect.”

I stayed silent, remembering what I’d been taught by Arcturus and Melania.

“Your seat is open, however like Heirs MacGregor and MacKenzie, you cannot sit until you are of age and have passed your OWLs. Nor can you appoint anyone to sit in your seat. However, in the direst of circumstances, such as war with another magical country, or Merlin preserve us, with the muggles themselves, you will be called upon to vote.” I really hoped neither of those happened as I wanted to enjoy my time at Hogwarts, at least before Riddle rose to power. “Also, as you haven’t yet begun your education, this body cannot grant you our protection. Therefore, I must ask for Houses willing to stand with Clan Macleod; to protect and guide its young chief until he is of an age to defend himself.”

“House Black stands willing,” Arcturus spoke, as I knew he would. Not only was he investing time in training me, and no doubt trying to bind me to his family, but he’d brought the matter to the Wizengamot.

“House Ollivander stands willing.” Gervaise’s support right behind Arcturus’ was unexpected.

“Clan MacDonald stands willing.”

“Clan MacKinnon stands willing.”

The two newest lords, from two of the most powerful Scottish clans, were the next to add their voices in support.

As I listened, more and more offered me their protection. Every clan from the Highlands and Islands of Scotland did so, along with ten from the lowlands, plus over half the Irish clans joined in after Clan O’Neill – with whom I shared a distant connection through my maternal grandmother – spoke out. Several houses that had sided with Riddle in canon, such as Lords Carrow, Malfoy, Lestrange and Nott also stood willing, which was no doubt because they were close, or wanted to be, to House Black. The biggest surprise though was when Charlus Potter stood.

“House Potter stands willing, and may I say you played your deception last week most ably,” Charlus added with a smile and a nod to me. I returned the nod even as I wondered when I’d run into his grandson James.

After Charlus sat, a dozen other houses stood, including Longbottom and Greengrass. By the time the roll call was finished, just over half the Wizengamot had offered their support and protection. I’d been warned that many would do so, as it was a matter of pride – for the Scottish clans – and alliances – in the case of those close to House Black, but the extra support felt odd, and no doubt something I’d have to speak with Arcturus about later.

“Chief Macleod,” I looked up at the Chief Warlock as he spoke once more. “It gladdens our hearts to know a magic lineage as old and renowned as yours hasn’t been struck from our community. We thank you for coming forth today, removing your protection via anonymity. Lord Black, we offer our gratitude for your actions in finding and protecting the young chief until he could step forth today.” I and Arcturus bowed after the Chief Warlock spoke to us in turn.

With his piece finished, the Chief Warlock sat and the light illuminating his position faded.

“Chief MacLeod,” I turned my gaze back to the Minister, “we are all glad of your return, and look forward to the day you may sit among us. Until then, however, you are dismissed and asked to study and prepare for your future role.”

I bowed deeply, pivoted and walked back to the room I’d emerged from. Once inside, Melania placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “You did well today,” she said slowly, “your parents would be proud.”

I smiled, accepting the praise. “So, can we go now?”

Melania laughed. “Yes. Your part in today’s proceedings is finished. Unless you wish to stay and observe how the Wizengamot works, we can leave.”

“Good. While I understand this place is important, I’d rathe…”

“…I’m Marcas MacDougall,” my head snapped back to the display of the chamber as someone spoke.

“Uncle Marcas?” I blurted out in shock. Marcas was one of my mother’s older brothers – possibly the only one now with Heir MacDougall dead and my place in line to inherit the clan – but I had thought he’d died at the massacre. To see him now was a shock to my system.

“While I, like The MacLeod, survived the Summer Solstice Massacre, I don’t stand before this body today looking to claim the title of Chief MacDougall,” Marcas said slowly as I remembered how much he detested public gatherings. The man was, according to my mother, something of a recluse who hated attention and crowds, so to see him here today – and alive at that – was doubly shocking. “No, that honour goes to another.” Marcas pulled a sheet of parchment from his robes. “I have here, confirmed by Gringotts, proof of the heir to clan MacDougall; my niece, Áine, daughter of Aodh.”

A girl who I immediately knew was my cousin, Áine, came into view. She was a year older than me and had been close friends with my sister Maire. I thought, like my sister, she’d died during the attack, but she obviously hadn’t. I moved toward the door, only to be stopped when Melania gripped my arm. “You cannot go out there now. To do so would shame both your house and theirs.”

I grunted in annoyance, but heeded her words, focusing on the screen displaying what was going on in the chamber.

“Does she have a wand?” The Minister asked slowly, as if worried about a repeat of what had happened to me.

“She does not, minister,” Marcas responded slowly, which meant he’d not known about how to get the second wand for her. Already my mind was whirling, planning to speak with Áine and take her to Gervaise to gain a wand. After all, she was the closest living relative I had left and already I felt the urge to burn any who’d dare threaten her.

“Then, we cannot recognise her as Chief, nor can we open your seat or offer our protection. I can however call for others to offer…”

“Clan MacLeod stands willing!” I called out as I rushed through the door and returned to the chamber. My eyes sought out Áine and as I found her in the stands above and behind me, I saw a weak, pained smile stretch over her face.

“Chief MacLeod,” I reluctantly turned back to the Minister. “While we are grateful for your offer of support, I had not yet opened the floor to offers. Nor, sadly, can you do so as you aren’t currently a sitting chief.” He offered me a slightly sad smile. “That said, it gladdens my heart to see you so ready to protect a friend and fellow magical.”

“Yes, Minister,” I turned and prepared to leave the chamber floor, only to stop and look back at him. “And my sincerest apologies for acting out of turn. I was simply… very happy to see my cousin again.” I looked up at Áine and smiled. The girl returned the smile even as tears formed in her eyes.

“Your lack of decorum is both understandable and excused, Chief MacLeod,” the Minister said as I walked from the chamber. “Now, I must ask for Houses willing to stand with Clan MacDougall; to protect and guide its young chief until she is of an age to defend herself.”

“House Black stands willing.” I slowed my walk and glanced up at Arcturus, surprised he was the first to come forward. From what I’d been told there was some bad blood, though nothing serious enough to ignite a feud between the Blacks and MacDougalls. Thus, for him to be first to speak was surprising, unless, as I realised, he hoped to use it to further secure my allegiance while, possibly, ending the bad blood and gaining the support of a future chief.

“House MacDonald stands willing.”

House MacKinnon Stands willing.”

“Clan O’Neill stands willing.”

I left the floor as the clans of the Highlands and Islands and Ireland lined up to offer their support to Áine, and as the door closed, saw Melania standing, waiting for me. “I’m both impressed and disappointed in your actions,” she said slowly. “You showed a stout heart to rush to your cousin’s aid, though in doing so, ran the risk of potential embarrassment,” she said slowly, her arms crossed over her chest. She then sighed and shook her head, allowing a small smile to appear. “That said, your reason for doing so was understandable, and you remembered to apologise for your miscalculation without appearing either flippant or arrogant. Good job.”

“Thank you, and I understand,” I replied as I turned and watched as the screen reactivated, once more showing us the workings of the chamber beyond.

“Heir MacDougall,” the Minister began, meaning the offers of support had ended, “we are all glad of your return and look forward to the day you may sit among us. Until then, however, you are dismissed and asked to study and prepare for your future role. Marcas MacDougall, until such time as your future chief is ready to assume her mantle, the Wizengamot names you guardian of your clan. With this title, you may be present in all but private sessions of the Wizengamot, but you cannot cast a vote. Nor are you allowed access to the vaults or holdings of your clan without the express permission of your future chief. And only when she has begun her education at Hogwarts. Until then, expenses incurred on her behalf will be covered by loans from the Ministry or Gringotts of no greater than a million Galleons in total.”

I frowned as Marcas nodded. I then turned to Melania and muted the feed for a moment. “Doesn’t that mean he could financially ruin the clan before Áine is old enough to assume her role?”

Melania sighed. “In theory yes, however, that rarely ever happens. If a Guardian ever makes a house or clan destitute before the heir can come of age, they may be brought before the Wizengamot, or, in the most severe cases, given to Gringotts – along with their dependents – to work off the debt. Though since clan MacDougall is an old clan, a million Galleons shouldn’t come close to bankrupting them, but simply allow the heir, and by extension, the guardian’s family, to live as their status expects.”

“Then why didn’t Arcturus take that role with me?” I asked as the thought came to mind.

“Because he lacks a close blood connection to you. And also, if by some act of fate, an heir under the protection of a Guardian ever died before they could claim their title, then the life of the Guardian and their family would be forfeit.”

I gulped as I nodded. Those were some serious penalties for failure of a Guardian. Still, I had little doubt there were ways to exploit the laws and statutes covering Guardians. While it would be hard, I wanted to look into the matter, perhaps to see if there was any way I could protect Áine if our uncle made a move against her that, while legal, was immoral and unjust.

I turned back to the screen and saw that Marcas and Áine had stepped away. “Is there time to meet them now?” I asked. Of course, even if there wasn’t, I’d find a way. Áine was the closest remaining family I had left, and I already felt the urge to protect her.

“Yes, though do mind that if we move to the gallery where they are, we will be forced to face journalists and various curious individuals looking to learn more about you. Possibly even exploit you in some way.”

I smiled, exposing my teeth. “Let them try.”

Melania laughed, obviously amused, before she turned and moved to the far wall and the exit of our waiting room. “Come along then. Let us save your cousin from the vultures that gather.”

I fell into step at her side as we exited, noting the Aurors who’d guided us to the room fell in with us. One took point while their partner – gender and identity were impossible to see with the robes and cloaks they wore hiding their features and distorting their voices so they looked and sounded the same – brought up the rear.

The corridor we walked through was quiet, since the Wizengamot was in session, though as we neared the stairs leading to the public gallery, the sound of voices could be heard.

“Miss MacDougall, how did you survive the Massacre?”

“Mister MacDougall, where have you and your niece been hiding?”

I emerged behind Melania, the lead Auror into what would best be defined as a feeding frenzy. Unlike us, the MacDougalls didn’t have an escort and were thus at the mercy of a rapid, braying crowd of hornets trying to press them into revealing everything.

I could barely see my uncle, never mind Áine, and as the shouting from over two dozen reporters – some with foreign accents – grew ever louder, I felt my anger grow. This was my family they were verbally assaulting.

“LUMOS!” I screamed, bathing the room in bright white light within which ripples of shifting, swirling sickly green moved. “Get the fuck away from them now!”

While I was still a child, the fact the light emanating from my wand was almost blinding seemed to do the trick and the crowd stopped shouting and several moved back. Just enough that I could see my cousin.

“Dòmhnall!” Áine called out before racing through the narrow gap between us. As she leapt at me, I stopped the spell and wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. “I… I thought…”

“Shh,” I whispered back, my head as buried in her neck as hers was in mine. “I’m here. I’m real.” My wand hand rested against her hair while the other pulled her close, scared to lose her again.

Around us, I heard murmurs and then flashes of light. Flames of rage boiled inside, wanting to snap at those buzzards that felt the need to try and interfere in my moment with my cousin. Yet, that rage was buried by the sheer joy and relief I felt from holding a close family member for the first time in months, and the gentle sobbing of my cousin into my shoulder.

“While he lacked any decorum in his statement, I remind you that he is Chief MacLeod, the girl with him is heir to Clan MacDougall and I am the wife of Lord Arcturus Black,” Melania’s voice rose behind me, a steel and coldness creeping in as she continued to speak. “If you do not step back, I will consider it an affront to House Black, and suggest my husband – and my father, Chief MacMillan – take steps to remind your employers and families of the grievous nature of your transgressions in assaulting the heir to a most Ancient and Noble of houses.”

I wasn’t sure how long I held her, yet when we finally pulled back, I used my free hand to gently wipe away the tears on her cheeks. “I missed you,” I said slowly, feeling a smile grow wet with my tears.

Áine gave a single laugh, almost burping in the process. “Same. But how…” her words trailed off, I saw her eyes leave me and then grow wide.

“Perhaps not here,” I commented, earning a weak nod from her. I turned, my hand taking her and moved toward Marcas. “Uncle,” I spoke slowly, though anything else I might’ve said was lost as the large man fell to a knee and pulled me and Áine against his chest.

“Magic be damned! I thought you’d died with everyone else,” he said as he held me tight. “Seeing you walk out into the chamber…”

“Aye. I felt the same when you spoke,” I replied. He loosened the hug enough that I could look up at him, his dark green eyes wet as he ran a hand through my hair.

“How though?”

“It’s…”

“Not a matter for public discussion,” Melania cut in as she moved to stand over us. “Mister MacDougall,” she extended a hand.

Marcas stood, releasing his hold on me, took her hand into his and kissed her knuckles. “Lady Black,” he spoke after the gentle kiss and stood to his full height, dwarfing her. “I know that issues between your husband and my father were tense, but for whatever you and he have done to help Dòmhnall, you have my gratitude, and on my word as Guardian, I consider all issues between us settled.”

Melania gave a single nod. “My husband will no doubt be happy to hear that. While he and the former Chief MacDougall often disagreed, he spoke in glowing terms of his admiration for your father’s determination for a cause he believed in.” I cough to hide the snort of laughter her reply brought on, as it sounded as if Arcturus heavily disliked my maternal grandfather. “Though perhaps it would be wise for us to withdraw to another location. One not… invested with curious onlookers.”

I looked around and saw that while the crowd that had been around Áine and Marcas was still present, it was keeping a respectful distance. Something they were no doubt helped to do by the presence of two Aurors with wands drawn standing nearby.

“Yes, I do believe that would be best. Perhaps Fortescue's so we can allow the children to further savour the unexpected good news of the day?”

“So long as Dòmhnall and Áine agree, that would be acceptable.”

I looked at my cousin, and after getting a nod, turned my attention to the adults. “That’s fine for us,” I said with a smile.

Melania smiled back, and then with Marcas at her side, turned and moved toward the crowd. Even without an Auror there to clear a path, I had little doubt the crowd would’ve split like the sea of Moses. Melania carried herself with an air that left little in doubt that she was the one in control of the room; a feature Arcturus had as well and one I planned to learn before I went to Hogwarts.

… …

… …