Còir Buaidh

Year 0 Part 5

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I sat as calmly as I could behind my desk in the Master Study. On the other side were the Greater Portraits of my grandfather and great-grandfather who were inspecting what I’d arranged on the desk for them to examine. It was near the end of May 1969, and I was only a few months away from beginning my education at Hogwarts.

It had been nearly four years since the Summer Solstice Massacre and the merging of two distinct lives from massively different worlds into who I was now, and I was finally at a place where I felt comfortable, if not confident, in what I knew. After seeing the memory of Grindelwald during the Wizarding World War, I doubted I’d ever be comfortable with what level I was at and would always strive to reach a greater height.

It hadn’t taken me too long to reach a point where I was on par or beyond any First Year – at least those who didn’t have the same intensive tutoring schedule I had – and felt I could cast all the charms and jinxes covered in Second Year as well. Certain subjects, such as Potions, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures hadn’t been studied as diligently as subjects such as Transfiguration, Charms, and DADA, but that was fine. Since I’d helped shape the new me, I knew my talents lay in other fields of magic, which was why I was here today with my ancestors.

Once I was secure in my First-Year classwork, I’d pulled back on the subjects that I didn’t have an interest or inclination toward except for History. That subject was an odd one, as what was covered by tutors in reference to my schoolbooks didn’t align with what I’d read in Dunscaith’s library, nor what my ancestors or others had told me. At least regarding history, they’d lived through such as the Wizarding World War.

Now I understood that the opinions of my ancestors, and those such as my Aunts, Arcturus, and Melania Black, were clouded by personal opinions and familial loyalties. But the discrepancies, while seemingly minor, were regular enough that I was questioning everything my schoolbooks told me. The older part of me had always been a touch sceptical, and it seemed that a general sense of distrust of what everyone was told to believe – and think – had carried through the merging.

The same issue arose with more ancient history, such as when History of Magic spoke of the founders. I found many conflicting opinions within the books kept in the library, with the few I’d browsed in the Inner Library on such subjects showing ever greater inconsistencies. Given the books in the Inner Library were far older, I felt it meant the schoolbook was a recent ‘retelling’ of events that aligned with the opinions of the Ministry and the ICW, though that could just be my scepticism showing through.

While not needed for First Year, and probably not for Second Year either, learning more about the Founders, and the differing opinions on their lives and what caused Salazar Slytherin to leave, was illuminating. As was learning that Merlin, Morgana, Arthur, and even Avalon had all existed. I mean, I’d half-expected that, but having it confirmed, and learning that the legends were true – with some new ones suggesting some or all of the Founders had studied under Merlin – was another thing entirely.

Thanks to Occlumency and the choice I'd made before rebirth, I could recall everything I’d read from any of those books, though it took time to roam through my memories. I’d begun the very basics of creating a Memory Palace to allow me to access them easily, but Aunt Moire didn’t expect me to complete its creation until I was at Hogwarts. Not unless I devoted every spare minute I could toward the creation of the Palace while ignoring my work on learning how to simultaneously focus on multiple trains of thought at the same time and how to hide important memories from others.

That said, since most of my thoughts and ideas pulled on knowledge from the part of me that wasn’t born in this world, and any memories or thoughts that focused on external knowledge were undetectable by Aunt Moire – who, in confidence had explained her Legilimens rating was far higher than what most could ever hope to achieve – then the odds on anyone learning of my plans were slim. That said, I suspected that once my external knowledge wasn’t foreknowledge, then those plans would be exposed to anyone in the know, such as Headmaster Dumbledore.

One thing that had come up when browsing all my memories from before the merging, was lining up much of the extended media of Harry Potter with what existed in this world. The biggest example of that had been when I’d seen a photograph of Hogwarts and discovered the castle looked more akin to what had been seen in an old computer game than anything in the movies, or suggested in the books.

I’d yet to delve further into that, as it was a minor matter and one that didn’t draw my attention as other things, but the idea that Ancient Magic might exist had me regretting not considering the concept when I’d designed my form before the merging. That said, with my Akros-level Magical Potential, the various affinities I had, along the Traits allowing me the ability to wield and more easily learn Shadow Magic, Destructive Magic, Blood Magic, and Runes, I was comfortable in the choices I’d made.

Of those, only Runes of the World felt as if it was unlocked. The rest still felt beyond me, but I suspected I was growing closer to Embrace of the Shadows simply because of the amount of time I spent in meditation near Dunscaith’s Ward Core. That swirling, tantalising ball of shifting shadows was linked to Shadow Magic; something I was only surer of after learning of the castle’s links to the legendary figure of Sgàthach, and how the name of the castle translated into English as ‘Fortress of Shadows’.

It was because of those traits that I was here today, or why I’d altered my tutoring schedule as soon as I was certain I’d pass First Year. No, that was because of Fleshcarving, and my desire to gain access to the tome that had been denied to me for several years. To help with that, I’d focused heavily on learning runes, which was only introduced in Second Year at Hogwarts, yet I’d known I had to go far further than that to gain access to the tome before I started my education.

To that end, I’d sought out a Rune Master from Europe. While there were some in the British Isles, approaching any of them ran the risk that the Ministry or others might learn of my intentions. While they could still monitor Rune Masters further afield, it was easier to avoid suspicion by expanding my search.

In the end, I’d located one of the best in Europe, if not the world, in Gunther Durchdenwald. He was a citizen of the United German States and had attended Adlerberg Schule der Magie which was the premiere magical school in the UGS. Herr Durchdenwald had been reluctant at first to consider tutoring a child, and one not even at Hogwarts. However, upon meeting me, and then learning that I was the Chief of Clan MacLeod – which, it seemed, was known across Europe as one of the high-tier families that focused on runes – he’d changed his mind. It turned out that Elder Haus von Durchdenwald, while not as old as Clan MacLeod, were another of those high-tier families, and my grandfather and great-grandfather had spoken admirably of the Graf of the Haus. Gunther wasn’t Graf or Erbe – Lord or Heir – of the Haus but was the younger brother of the current Graf.

Herr Durchdenwald’s lessons had been intense, so much so that there’d been more than a few mornings when I’d woken up with a page of a book covering runes stuck to my face. As much as I could push myself, I kept forgetting that I wasn’t mature, and thus pulling all-night research sessions was beyond me. At least without access to potions that Kadic and my ancestors insisted I didn’t take until I’d turned fifteen as they could harm my development.

Several of Herr Durchdenwald’s lessons had touched on runes and topics I’d known next to nothing about, though thankfully the Inner Library had an insanely extensive selection of books on the subjects. So much so that I’d, when time allowed, pulled out books on runic languages from every corner of the world to see how they worked, and what they could do. I knew it would be years, if not decades, before I could attempt adding those runes to any arrays I created, but I did like several of the ideas that came to mind from my investigations.

Now, after a little over two years of lessons with Her Durchdenwald, I was presenting my progress to my ancestors. Regardless of their opinions, I planned to attempt to open the tome on Flesh Carving today, but I’d feel better if they approved of my intentions, hence why they were here to examine my work.

“These are impressive arrays,” my grandfather said, his eyes examining the various examples of my work that I’d arranged on the desk. “This one in particular, blends the runes for protection and defence almost flawlessly and in a way I doubt any student at Hogwarts would consider.” He lifted his gaze, a small smile on his face. “The work of your tutor?”

“Yes. Rune Master Durchdenwald offered insights that weren’t in any of the schoolbooks, or other manuals, commonly available in Britain. While there were books in the libraries that held examples of this approach, the ones I’d browsed didn’t offer insight into how such combinations might be achieved.”

Several of the books Herr Durchdenwald had suggested I examine hadn’t even been in any library in the Castle, and I’d had to order them directly from publishers. A few didn’t even come in English, as it was claimed something was lost in translation. Thankfully, Herr Durchdenwald had helped me understand what those books were explaining; at least in reference to what he was teaching.

“About what I expected,” my great-grandfather commented as he scratched his chin. “The Durchdenwald’s are almost on our level of expertise, and I can recall several conferences where I spoke with the then Graf Durchdenwald about new ways to blend arrays. Much of what you’ve been taught will clash with what you’re expected to do at Hogwarts, but Herr Durchdenwald’s approaches are superior. At least to those taught to children.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m still impressed you secured him as your tutor, when I last heard of the House, they had slipped into semi-reclusion following Grindelwald’s war.”

“I haven’t asked about politics and the status of his house, but I could inquire for you if you’d like?”

“No. Better to avoid that, and the questions it might generate for an eleven-year-old, even a Chief, to be interested in such matters.”

I lowered my head, accepting his advice, and returned to silence as they continued to examine my displays.

“Do not think we don’t understand the reasoning behind displaying your progress to us, nor the location where you’ve chosen to present your work,” my great-grandfather said after perhaps another ten minutes of them looking over – as best they could given they were paintings resting on the arms of chairs on the other side of the desk – the various arrays I’d shown them. I’d used a variety of materials that could be used in crafting such arrays, as well as a wide range of reasons for the creation of the array. What I hoped was that it would show I was ready to open the tome and apply my first flesh carving array. I did have questions about how I was meant to apply such a thing to myself, but I suspected my ancestors would have the answers, and that it would be painful.

I kept my eyes on my ancestors, though it was hard to not subconsciously glance to where the tome rested with a place of prominence. The only item with similar status was the ward and spellbook for Clan MacLeod. That held significant interest, though I’d already been permitted to examine its contents. What was listed inside was an almost dizzying selection of spells and ward schemes that were far beyond what I was capable of, though some of the ideas in the book had me almost salivating at unleashing them.

“We know that, if you so choose, we cannot prevent you from opening the tome,” my grandfather took over, “however, we are pleased that you’ve committed the time and effort to achieve your desire. Based on your presented work,” he gestured to the selection of arrays I had out for display, “and knowing the dedication that you’ve placed into your studies, we find no reason to argue against you attempting to open the tome. It, however, may decide otherwise.”

I stayed quiet, not wanting to display my excitement, but under the desk, I gave a small fist pump. My great-grandfather chuckled, suggesting he’d seen the movement.

“However,” my grandfather continued, “before you collect the tome, you need to understand something. The tome is no mere repository of knowledge like a standard spellbook, nor a collection of spells and runic arrays developed over the centuries by those who came before you, as with the Ward and Spellbook of Clan MacLeod. The tome is magic, in much the same way the Ward Core is. You will not be able to simply flick through the tome, selecting an array that catches your fancy. The leather, as we once told you, was skinned from selkies, while the pages were crafted from an ancient beast and the ink imbued with magic. The tome is alive, and it determines, based on what it senses of your magical ability, both present and future, what it shall reveal.”

“It must also be understood that the tome doesn’t generally provide arrays or instructions on how and where to carve them. Instead, it provides suggestions and ideas that, from what it reveals, you are free to adapt and alter as you choose.”

I listened carefully to his words, my mind wondering how the tome determined that a MacLeod was worthy and of what knowledge. I was also curious as to how carving runes into others would go. Though that was something to ponder on another day, for today all that mattered was opening the tome.

I found myself in my seat only a few moments later, the tome in my hands. While my ancestors would no doubt insist I’d sprinted to collect the book and then return to my seat, they were mistaken. I’d simply bent time around me to appear as if I were running when I’d really walked regally to collect the ancient repository of my Clan’s knowledge.

As with every time I touched the book, there was a familiar yet unknown spark of power that caressed against the magic that flowed within me. That power crackled, hinting at the extent of what it could offer.

The front cover of the tome was blank save for a collection of symbols. I had little idea of what they meant, or what language they were written in, but I knew they were more than just the tome’s proper name. My fingers brushed against the markings, that crackling power once more brushing against the walls protecting my mind. The spine and back cover all radiated the same sense of wonder, though my eyes, as was often the case when I gazed or touched the tome, were on the bands that sealed the book.

They reached around from the rear cover, covering the pages, and touched the front, yet there was no hint of a seam or edge on either side. The bands simply became part of the cover creating a continuous, and I suspected unbreakable without the right magic and method, seal. Those seals had been examined carefully by, as they were now, my fingers as I sought out the latch, depression, or magical key that would remove them and reveal the tome’s secrets. Yet to this day, I’d yet to find the method to open the book, though, it should be said that I’d not attempt to push my magic into the tome, or draw its magic into me.

Whenever my fingers brushed over the tome, the torc reacted. It wasn’t to warn me of danger, but, I felt, instead to hint at something that was a part of it, the Ward Core, and myself. That feeling was there again, though I noted that it had shifted subtly; the faint but unmistakable warnings were now gone.

“How does it open?” I asked as my fingers continued to fail to find a method to pull the bands from the cover and allow me access to the tome. Before either of my ancestors could answer, I wrenched my hand back, shaking my fingers as I saw a faint wisp of hazy yellow smoke rising from a fingertip. Looking at the cover, I saw the same smoke filtering away over the bands.

“The tome will determine if you are worthy. How it does so is something you have to discover for yourself, which in of itself is another way to prove your worth.”

I frowned at my grandfather’s non-answer and returned my focus to the tome. My fingers returned to the tome, brushing against the rough, yet comforting leather. I flinched when there was a spark, and saw a new blast of the odd hazy yellow smoke, but kept my fingers over the book. Tracing out the strange characters did nothing more than bring forth another few sparks, though by the time the fifth jolt lashed against my fingertips, I realised something.

The torc was reacting to the sparks, however, it wasn’t to warn me of danger. Instead, the hint that it wasn’t a threat but something that was part of the magic it filtered and that flowed through me was growing stronger. Curious as to what was being hinted at, I lowered my palm toward the cover, grimacing slightly as sparks began to erupt between my palm and the cover as if we were generating a miniature thunderstorm. Yet, at the same time, I swore I saw the bands begin to shimmer and felt that unknown but familiar magic brushing up against my senses.

Closing my eyes, I looked inward seeking the magic that flowed in and through me. After years of practice meditating and learning to understand the magic that radiated through every cell in my body, it took almost no time at all to find that sliver of something otherworldly and grasp onto it. Once I had the connection established, I moved to the edges of my mind; to the defensive structures I’d created there. I wasn’t ready yet to create a Mind Palace, or the various forms of mental traps, illusions, and distractions that Aunt Moire said I needed for a true Palace, but I’d created strong shields around my mind. The entire thing was encompassed in a wall that drew inspiration from media that didn’t exist in this world yet, and possibly never would.

Reaching the edge of those defences, I saw the indistinct shifting form of something waiting for me. Unlike any of the times that my aunt had tested and breached my defences, whatever was producing this presence wasn’t attacking or even probing. Honestly, if I had to describe it, I’d say it was caressing the defences; as if it felt they wouldn’t hurt it, yet knew it couldn’t go beyond them.

Feeling I knew what this shifting form was, I reached over the defences and pushed the tendril of my magic that I’d brought with me against the shadows. “Aargh!” I screamed in the depths of my mind as the floating mass rushed forward. I was knocked back, falling behind the mental defences that instantly rallied to protect me. However, what had been outside the defences had rushed past them with me.

Around my mental projection, various shapes and forms rose and moved in the shadowy mass that had slipped into my mind. Most were fleeting, disappearing before I could truly see them, but a handful were clearer, going so far that even hints of where they were formed. Of those that I could identify before they faded back into the swirling mists, I saw gnomes, banshees, pixies, and house elves. The backgrounds that appeared with some of them were also an eclectic mix. Forests, deserts, marshes, deep water, grasslands, and mountains all appeared before fading away to nothingness.

The only common link between the various creatures, at least from what I could tell at the moment, was that everything was magical. That had to mean something, yet it was hard to concentrate on what that meaning was when the shifting mists swirled around me, threatening to overwhelm what meagre protections I had after the mist had slipped through my mental defences.

However, before I was overwhelmed, the mist surged forward, pushing against my mental skin. Before I could react and attempt any form of defence, the mist was gone, and I was once more alone within the confines of my thoughts. Unsure of what had happened, I looked around, examining every memory and fleeting thought of my merged consciousness, however, no matter where or how I looked, I found no trace of the mist.

Knowing I’d not get the answers from myself, I opened my eyes and looked at my ancestors. However, before I could ask them what I’d just experienced, my eyes caught sight of the book, and I saw that the bands hadn’t just de-merged from the cover, but were no longer present. I moved my hand toward the edge of the cover, only to stop as my fingertips slipped around the cover and brushed against the pages within. “This is too easy,” I muttered.

I looked up when my ancestors laughed at my comment, with their amusement increasing at the confused stare I gave them. “Being allowed to open the tome is but the first step to learning the mysteries contained within it, my boy,” my great-grandfather said once he’s recovered from laughing at my confusion.

I frowned, my confusion only growing at his words. However, that ended once I linked his comment to others he and my grandfather had given to me about the tome. They’d spoken of how the tome didn’t reveal everything it held to every Chief of the clan, nor was all that would be revealed to a Chief done so at once. While that explained his words, it irritated me. I understood the need to be cautious, to not push too far, or try too much before I was ready, but I disliked that the choice over what I could or couldn’t do was controlled by someone, or in this case, something else.

I pushed my annoyance aside and settled my emotions. I needed to see what was inside the tome, and as my fingers slowly eased the cover back, I wondered what it would reveal to me. Seeing the first page, I blinked, suffering another bout of confusion. While I hadn’t expected an obvious array that would unlock all my potential and power, I’d expected something more than what I found.

The same markings as on the cover were lined up on what had to be a foreword. “The f…” I bit off the curse as I processed new symbols and markings and understood I was looking at a foreword. What it said was beyond me, as the language was still unknown, with none of the symbols, be they ones from the cover or new ones, looking like anything I’d ever seen before.

Not that I expected it to help decipher the puzzle I now confronted, but I ran my fingers over the markings. They were written in a deep crimson ink while the page was rougher than I’d expected and thicker as well. “What’s this made of?” I asked even as my fingertips continued to traverse the page.

“Leather of some magical creature, though what beast specifically has been lost to the annals of time,” my great-grandfather replied. “All I know of it is that thanks to my grandfather, the beast no longer resides on the Isles.”

I frowned, wondering which creature had been hunted for this leather. I knew that the cover came from the hides of selkies, many of which still lived in the waters around the island, so hearing that another beast had been skinned for the pages made sense. Doubly so when the tome was about carving runes into living flesh. Still, not knowing the beast they were taken from was another little mystery to add to the exceedingly long list of things I didn’t know the answer to but hoped to discover one day. The only thing I could be certain of, at least so long as what I’d been told was accurate, was the beast had once lived in the British Isles. That would, I suspected, limit the number of creatures I had to consider, as, unlike muggles, magicals were less prone to driving species to extinction. Mainly because doing so would deprive the magical world of access to the creature’s body and thus remove certain potions and concoctions from existence.

Putting that mystery, and the growing one of what language the cover and foreword were written in, to the side, I turned the page, only to blink at what was then displayed. “I hadn’t expected this,” I said to myself as I examined the runic array that covered the page. While there was, as I’d expected, more of the strange writing, discovering an array so clearly displayed so early in the book was unexpected. However, as my eyes examined the array closely, it was easy to see it wasn’t a standard one.

Only about half the array was composed of runes I knew. Other parts of the array used what appeared to be runes from outside the Futhark language, and while I couldn’t be sure of their exact source, a few appeared to be ancient Latin or possibly even Sumerian.

I’d only encountered those runes when Herr Durchdenwald had shown me arrays from other countries that used different schemes than those created with Futhark runes, but I’d yet to dive into learning those runic languages. Herr Durchdenwald expected that if I maintained my studies while at Hogwarts – at least outside the classroom as none of the other runic languages he’d shown me were taught at Hogwarts – then I’d perhaps know how to use them by the time I was sitting my NEWTs.

The runes in the array that were composed of Futhark runes were semi-standard combinations. Ideas for resiliency, strength, and protection made it clear this array was a general base of some form; probably a way to fortify the body for the more complex and aggressive arrays that would be added to the flesh. However, the fact most of the array was beyond me wasn’t encouraging, and with no clue as to the language used in the tome, I’d be struggling to determine what the true purpose of it was.

“What’s this for?” I asked, hoping I’d get an explanation from my ancestors, even if deep down I suspected they weren’t going to offer one.

“That is for you to determine, though if your runic skill is as impressive as the works you displayed for us, you should have some idea already as to its function.”

“I do, but I dislike not knowing what the full array does, or what the main language used in its creation is.”

My great-grandfather grunted in amusement. “The name of the language, like much of the tome’s origins, has been lost to time. By the time the first Dealbhan Nas Motha was created and imbued with our ancestor’s knowledge and wisdom, the Clan had already endured several centuries of warfare. During that time, while knowledge of the tome wasn’t lost, its history wasn’t fully transferred between generations.”

“That’s inconvenient,” I remarked, keeping my emotions in check. I could feel my irritation shifting into anger, but with my Occlumency training, I was able to suppress most of the issues being too emotional could bring. Particularly in a situation such as this.

I disliked being in the dark over the history of the tome, but as it seemed that there was little I could do about that currently, I had to accept it. That said, I knew that as soon as I was finished here, I’d be heading to the Inner Library. My ancestors should’ve if they’d been interested, compiled notes and records on research to identify the language used in the tome. Since neither my grandfather nor great-grandfather knew the truth, it would suggest the work was incomplete. Still, if I could discover the notes taken by previous Chiefs of our Clan, then I’d gain a jump in beginning down the path to the source of our Clan’s unique magic.

“It is, but it also serves as another challenge to prove your worth,” my grandfather countered. “We accept you opening the tome, and the tome considers you worthy to learn the only full array within it. However, before we show you where or how to apply the array, you have to determine what its primary purpose is. We know,” he continued as I pushed aside a spike in anger, “that you’ll be unable to discover the full truth of the array, but we expect you to trust your intuition and instinct. Something that many people fail to understand is that while the creation and inscribing of arrays requires intelligence and skill, there is a personal component. Much like how one artist moves a brush in a slightly different way from another, so too is the way and style of every Rune Master different.”

“So, I spent nearly three years of excessive studying simply to reach the point where I could open the tome. However, access to its knowledge is still considered beyond me by you and the tome?”

“Yes.”

“I assume to prove my worth I have to begin research into the language the book has been written as well as determining the function of the array?” My grandfather nodded, which was slightly irritating. Yes, there should be notes from my ancestors but there was no certainty they resided in the Inner Library, or that any book there held information on the source of the alien language used in the tome.

“We understand if this upsets you, but this is the method by which every Heir has been tested by their Chief. While your situation is unusual, there is no reason to alter methods that have existed for centuries simply for the sake of convenience. Doing so would place you, and what remains of our Clan, in jeopardy. The tome is a curiosity to many and an incredible source of power. However, attempting to use and wield such power before one is ready – physically, emotionally, and intellectually – will only result in death.”

I nodded, accepting his words though my mind was already shifting to determining hints about where the language had come from. The obvious place to start was with the various creatures I’d seen when the tome had accepted me by flooding my mind with visions. There had to be some common thread between those races – beyond them being magical – which, I somehow knew, was important toward determining the language of the array and the tome’s foreword.

“You have an idea where to begin?”

I nodded to my grandfather even as my gaze returned to the tome. “Possibly.”

… …

… …

“Kadic reminds The MacLeod of time.”

I looked up from the book in front of me, one detailing the history of several of the magical creatures I’d seen in my mind when I’d opened the tome on fleshcarving and smiled at my Head Elf. “Thank you, Kadic.” With only two elves in my employ, I didn’t really need a Head Elf, but because only the Head Elf was allowed into places like the Master Study and Inner Library, it was a position I’d given Kadic even before I’d acquired Aien.

Turning, I looked at the person sharing the table in the library with me. “Sorry about this,” I said to Bradley Cooper who’d lifted his head when Kadic spoke, though he was working through the books for First Year at Hogwarts. Unlike me, Bradley had an interest in potions, and I was encouraging it as if he turned out to be of use to me, then his interest and proficiency there could help counter my failing with the subject. At least until, if it were possible, I could acquire the loyalty of someone like Severus Snape or Lily Potter. “I have a meeting with someone that I can’t cancel.”

“It’s fine,” Bradley replied with a smile as he closed his book. “I know you’re busy being a Lord and all…”

“Chief.”

“… but at least you’re not acting like one,” he finished, ignoring – again – my attempt to correct him regarding my title. While being a Chief was comparable to being a Lord, I and the other Scottish and most of the Irish Clans placed importance on indicating our difference with the English Houses, with even the Lowland Clans preferring to be called Chiefs. Only the majority of the Welsh Clans – which had been anglicised long before the Statute – and a handful of Irish Clans based around Dublin accepted being referred to as Lords. “It’s just unfair that I can’t practise magic at home.”

“Technically I can’t either,” I replied, closing my book. “The Trace is designed to help the Ministry monitor and react to misuse of magic by a child. For those born into the magical world, the parents or extended family are expected to handle the matter. At least so long as any damage caused by misuse of magic doesn’t pose a threat to life or the Statute. For those, like yourself, who are born into the muggle world, then it helps the Ministry monitor the child. Muggles have no way of countering or stopping magic, so even a simple spell, such as the Levitation Charm, if used for more than lifting something like a textbook, runs the risk of causing alarm and threatening the Statute.”

I smirked when I finished as I glanced at Kadic and what I’d learnt from the book rushed to the forefront of my thoughts. Bradley was using his time here to prepare for Hogwarts. Most days he was here, he spent down in the training rooms, testing out the various spells, however today he’d been focusing on potions. Since I already knew enough to pass all of First Year and most of Second Year, I’d split my time between determining what the array shown in the tome was truly for and delving into the lore of every magical creature I’d seen in my mind when I’d opened the tome.

I’d yet to get far with either project, but given it’d only been a week since I’d opened the tome, it was understandable. What wasn’t, was my inability to find any notes created by the former Chiefs of Clan MacLeod regarding their investigations into the tome and its history. My ancestors found this amusing and refused to help, which suggested the same project was one they’d, along with every Chief that had come before them, carried out.

Still, while I hadn’t found those notes to work with, I felt I was making progress. The book I’d just closed, along with several others in the Inner Library, detailed the history of many of the creatures I’d seen. All of them came from Irish or Scots lore – indeed, all were types of Fae – so that played into what my great-grandfather had said about the pages coming from a creature that no longer resided in the Isles, and suggested the language of the tome was linked to Celtic myths and lore.

The most amusing part of my research so far, and the reason I’d smirked at Kadic, was that House Elves were nothing like the Elves described as being Fae, but instead were an almost perfect match for Brownies. There had to be a reason for that re- or misnaming, but I’d yet to read a book old enough that provided it.

Still, for all my deep diving into Fae lore, I’d yet to find proof of their language; at least of anything written. There were hints and suggestions, mainly showing up in the older books I’d so far browsed, that hinted many of the Fae could communicate with each other, and even hints that once, before the rise of wizards, they’d had a written language. Sadly, there was no proof of this, and such suggestions were dismissed as ‘attempts to elevate beasts into something equivalent to wizards’ or something like that and ignored the old legends of the higher courts.

Most of the races of the Fae appeared, at least to my research, to lack the higher functions needed to be capable of intelligence on par with a wizard, to say nothing of developing civilization. However, I wasn’t dismissing the possibility that there was a Fae language as House Elves (or Brownies if that’s what they really were), Gnomes, pixies and a few other species were capable of conversation with a wizard.

While it was perhaps a leap in logic, I wondered if the same process that implied goblins were beneath wizards was at play with the Fae. Goblins weren’t unintelligent and had waged war on the Wizarding World several times over the last millennia, but the more recent books spoke of them as sub-intelligent creatures barely above muggles. That was, at least to me, sheer propaganda as if they were little better than beasts, and had lost – as the books implied – every rebellion, then why did they control wizard currency in many, but not all, countries?

“That’s crap and you know it,” Bradley shot back, though without any real venom. I knew he wasn’t happy that he was restricted in where and when he could practise magic, but it was what it was, and I agreed with the Ministry on the reasons for the Trace. There should, however, be a place for muggleborns to practise their magic, which was why I allowed Bradley to come over to Dunscaith every weekend when he was free.

“If I used my wand,” or at least my school wand, but I didn’t trust Bradley enough to mention that I had a superior wand available to me, “outside the wards of Dunscaith – such as in the centre of the nearest muggle town – the Ministry would dispatch members of the DMLE to discover and end the chaos that would cause. I’d also, as a Chief, be hauled before the Wizengamot to explain my actions.” Most of the Wizengamot wouldn’t care about what I’d done, or any chaos and mayhem I’d unleashed on muggles, but the public reprimand would be an embarrassment. “The system has mistakes, yes, but it works to protect us from discovery by the muggle world.”

I felt that more than just the leaders of various muggle countries would know of the magical world, but the fewer people that did, the less chance of a war breaking out. One that, while I felt the Wizarding World would win, would devastate us as we were a fractured and – in the case of at least the British Isles – very insular world.

“It’s just not fair!”

“Life rarely is,” I replied to Bradley and glanced toward a picture that hung behind him. Bradley turned and saw it was one taken not long after my younger brother, Alasdair, had been born back in 1960.

He turned back to me, his shoulders slumping and the hints of anger at the injustice of the world gone from his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled as my book was lifted back to its place by Kadic.

“It’s fine. I’ve accepted what’s happened and moved on.” That wasn’t entirely true. When the chance to discover and then confront those responsible for the SSM arrived, I’d be first in line for vengeance. The problem was that, as things stood, there was fuck all I could do about getting my revenge.

I’d kept in regular contact with Lord Richard Edevane regarding the investigation. He was no longer head of the DMLE, having been forced from office when a new Minister had been elected to replace Nobby Leach. He’d kept himself in the loop regarding the investigation into the SSM and a handful of other matters – not that I knew which, only that he had such interests – and made sure I knew what was going on. He had little skin in the game regarding the deaths, but that so many sitting members of the Wizengamot and their families, including a handful of friends, had died in the Massacre, meant he wasn’t going to let the matter be brushed under the carpet by the Ministry.

However, the investigation had ground to almost a halt. All the leads that had been discovered in the year after the SSM had dried up without producing anything substantial. That was concerning as it meant those behind the SSM had expected reprisals and ensured they weren’t at risk of being discovered. It also meant they’d be gunning for me, but until I passed my OWLs, I had the full protection of the Wizengamot and the Ministry; for whatever good that would do.

“Um, look,” Bradley began, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you know nothing about the o… the muggle world, but my cousin’s having his birthday at the end of the month. If you’d like, you could come and spend time with us and other kids.”

My brow rose at the offer. I had little interest in hanging around with children, especially muggle ones, but that he’d make the offer was surprising. “Your father is okay with this?”

I’d only had a few interactions with Bradley’s parents and while his mother seemed fine with her son being a wizard, his father was unsettled. I didn’t know if he was particularly religious, or simply saw magic as something abhorrent, but the man was an example of why wizards had chosen to withdraw from the muggle world.

That said, the father’s issues were ones I planned to exploit. For a muggleborn to succeed in the Wizarding World, they either had to be something exceptional, or gain the support of a powerful family. That was done by, where possible, marrying into the family, or swearing allegiance to a Chief or Lord. That was termed vassalisation, which was a holdover from the mediaeval era, but was an accurate description of what was involved.

The only positions that muggleborns weren’t held back were jobs that those born into the Wizarding World, particularly those born to the Chief or Lord, weren’t interested in. Professions such as potion making, herbology, caring for magical creatures, and medicine had large percentages of muggleborns in them. Though even there, it required incredible skill, or understanding of politicking, for a muggleborn to rise to the very top of the pile. At least without backing from someone powerful.

I knew I needed a way to draw Lily Evans and Severus Snape to my side and while the latter should be manageable with little effort, Lily was going to require a different approach. Which I planned to try with Bradley. Not that, so long as things didn’t go astronomically wrong, he’d know anything about it.

“He said you could come.”

I grunted, not believing Bradley’s response since he seemed unwilling to meet my gaze. “I assume he’d expect me to act and dress like what he’d term a normal boy?” Bradley nodded and I sighed heavily. “I’ll let you know next weekend if that’s alright?”

“Yeah.”

“And regardless of whether I go or not, thank you for the invitation,” I finished with a small bow.

Bradley frowned, confused by my action for a moment before returning the bow. He didn’t, as he should’ve, bow lower than I – as would be expected in a formal location given the differences in our ranks, but that he returned the bow was enough for now. “And I thank you for considering the offer, Chief MacLeod,” he said, showing the lessons I’d given him – along with a handful of books on etiquette – hadn’t been forgotten or ignored. I wasn’t sure how important such behaviour would be at Hogwarts, but I knew some would instantly treat him differently if he showed respect for their status as members of old, powerful houses. First impressions mattered greatly in the Wizarding World, and that was something few, if any, muggleborns seemed to understand.

“And with that out of the way,” I said as I ended the bow and smiled, “let’s get you ready to leave.”

“I can do it!” Bradley called out before I gave Kadic an instruction to prepare Bradley’s things. The boy smiled widely as he pulled his wand from his holster. I was pleased he was using that, as after the first time I invited him over to study, and he arrived with the wand sticking out of his pocket, I dragged him to the Floo and took him to purchase a holster.

On the way to the ship, I’d explained, in detail, why placing something as critical to being a wizard in a pocket like some common garden stick was contemptuous to everything a wizard should be. After explaining what ‘contemptuous’ meant he’d understood his mistake and right after he’d asked about what else he’d need for Hogwarts that wasn’t on the school list. By the time we’d returned home, having taken all the time he had available, he’d bought an expandable and magically weight-limited chest for his school supplies along with a smaller expandable pouch and a large collection of wizarding candy, though he’s not gone overboard with the Galleons he had, which was an encouraging thing to see in a child. Every meeting we’d had since that first one he’d arrived with his holster and pouch, with the wand always holstered properly.

While I was uncertain if the change in his behaviour that I was affecting would alter the opinion of the more ‘blood purity’ minded witches and wizards, it should help him integrate with others at Hogwarts better. While his naming me as the reason for him showing a better understanding of the customs of the Wizarding World, it would improve my standing with those who didn’t believe in Blood Purity above all else. Or at least I hoped it would, as anything that granted me influence with a majority was worth cultivating at school, as I could use that influence to shape things as I moved forward.

That was also why I’d purchased the rare potion ingredients, at least the ones not available to the majority of those outside with true power. Even heirs to the Most Ancient or Most Noble houses couldn’t enter the same shops as I could as Chief, and I planned to use that to my advantage.

I had considered preparing a selection of holsters and other common things that muggleborns might not know they should have, but I’d dismissed the idea. It was far too obvious a choice to make, and one that others would already be exploiting. The same went for chocolates and sweets – muggle and magical, at least for the most part.

Hogsmeade was available to older students, so magical candies could easily be purchased there and brought into school for sale to the younger years. Yet I wondered if the village near Hogwarts carried everything that the students might want. Any witch or wizard could have deliveries via owl, but there were limits as to what could be sent. At least to those not the Heir, Chief, or Lord of a Clan or House of at least Established rank, who had access to an elf of their Clan or House who could come and go as they pleased.

There were only two other students who could exploit the same loophole as me, and while Chiefess Iona MacKenzie would only have access to the loopholes for Heads of House at Hogwarts from my first year, Chief Callum MacGregor would’ve had two years to exploit them. I knew little about either of them, bar when a Gathering took place, but from my limited encounters with them, Chief Callum was an arrogant prick, who thought himself more impressive than Chiefs four or five times his age. Which was why I’d enjoyed watching the other Chiefs remind him that he was in over his head, even going so far as to suggest he learn from me, as I’d taken control of my Clan’s holdings without outside help and knew when to listen to those who knew the laws and customs of our worlds better than I.

As for Chiefess Iona, all I could be sure of was that her head wasn’t as far up her own arse as Chief Callum’s. That said, I had no clue if others weren’t exploiting her position for their benefit as I expected many – including my cousins and the Blacks – would with me once I was at Hogwarts. Regardless though, even if that were the case, I had plans for Kadic of my own, which I’d activate once at Hogwarts, such as an ability to slip out of the castle without permission. At least so long as the wards allowed an elf to side-apparate someone through them.

By the time I’d run through those thoughts, Bradley had used the Levitation charm to place his books in his pouch, and I moved toward the door. Several of the tables were still covered in pages of my notes, or ideas Bradley had scribbled down and left along with our food and drink. I knew Kadic would clean them up after we left, and then, once we reached the fireplace connected to the Floo network, he’d rejoin us. Ideally just after the person due to arrive stepped out of the Floo.

Bradley wasn’t going to travel home via the Floo as the only connection point close to where he lived was in the private domain of an Ancient House. I’d not interacted with that house, nor did I have any faint blood connection to them, but even if I did, it was unlikely they’d allow a muggleborn to come and go from their grounds without demanding something in return. Even if, by some miracle, they didn’t extort a price for regular use of their Floo connection, the exact location of their residence was obscured, which was a frequent practice for many magical estates near muggle population centres.

Therefore, Kadic, as he had done since we’d first arranged these get-togethers, would side-apparate Bradley close to his home. He wouldn’t be directly apparating him into his home, as there was the probability the Trace, or something else the Ministry did, alerted them to magic being cast near the home of muggleborns. To confirm this, once we were closer to leaving for Hogwarts, I’d have Kadic apparate ever closer to Bradley’s home each night, waiting around for an hour to see if the Ministry responded.

Ideally, they wouldn’t, which would confirm the Trace was linked to the wand only, but if they did, then Kadic had orders to time their response. I’d need to know what sort of time delay I’d be looking at if I ever used magic at Bradley’s home.

“Thanks again,” Bradley said once we’d reached the room where the fireplace was located. “I think I’d have been good at Hogwarts, but learning how this… how our world works, is going to save me issues.” He’d mentioned that he’d gone to a private school before getting his letter for Hogwarts. The issue was that he didn’t come from an old-money family, so he was looked down upon by many there. The same was going, to a degree, to happen at Hogwarts but at least now he understood what was expected of him when meeting a supposed better.

“That’s what friends are for,” I replied with a smile, happy he was starting to see the Wizarding World as his world. That would make ensuring his loyalty to it, to me, easier to handle by driving a wedge between him and his parents. I knew it would be several years before I’d enact that part of my plan, but the greater his trust and respect for me, the more he’d turn to me when the muggles turned against him. Just as Sirius, in the other timeline and possibly here, would turn to the Potters because of his mother. “See you next weekend?” I asked, knowing that while he’d lost interest in his final year at muggle school, he still had to attend to keep up appearances. I had considered having his classmates slowly turn against him, or at least behave reactively to odd, seemingly magical occurrences at the school, but I’d not felt safe in my actions or skill to pull off such things without getting caught.

Bradley nodded as he slid on his coat. “Yes, bu…”

His words died on his lips as his eye turned to the fireplace, widening as the flames sparked to life with, for him, an unfamiliar green colour. I, knowing who was coming, turned to face the fireplace, gesturing for Bradley to step back as well.

Arcturus’ eyes shifted from me to Bradley, and while Lord Black’s face remained impassive, I could already see gears turning in his head, wondering why a muggleborn – no wizard would wear what Bradley wore – was doing in Dunscaith.

“Lord Black,” I said, capturing his attention as I lowered my head in acknowledgement of his position. “On behalf of the Ancient and Noble Clan MacLeod, I, Dòmhnall Fionnlagh MacLeod, the MacLeod of MacLeod, welcome you to my hearth and offer you the full protection of my Clan while you are here. No harm shall befall you, from within or without, so long as you present no threat to my Clan.”

Arcturus watched me silently as I carried out a formal greeting, which hadn’t been done between us in several years. There was the more informal, though still important, greeting and offer of protection that was given every time one of us visited the other’s domain, but that was all that was needed. While not allied in marriage, we were close enough that such formality was unrequired.

I’d not told Arcturus about Bradley, so his presence was a surprise, but I felt that after a few months of education, it was time I revealed the muggleborn to Lord Black. I knew already where the coming conversation would go, but I felt this was, perhaps, a chance to show him that muggleborns had some use, and potentially, open the door if Andromeda still chose to elope with Ted Tonks, that she could remain as a minor cadet branch of House Black instead of being outright expelled.

At my side, as I raised my head, I saw Bradley’s eyes widen, though he quickly shifted his stance, adopting the resting stance of one schooled in nobility or military circles. That seemed to please Arcturus as there was the slightest twitch of his cheek that I’d long since learnt to understand was his way of showing acceptance of a situation without making the position clear.

“Chief MacLeod,” Arcturus began in his regular, regal tone as he dropped his head lower than I had as he was the guest here. “On behalf of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, I thank you for the offer of protection, and accept it with grace and humility.”

“My apologies, Lord Black, for not being ready for your arrival. Another meeting ran overdue.” I gestured with one arm to Bradley. “Might I introduce you to Bradley Cooper, a fellow new student at Hogwarts? I met him when I visited Diagon Alley to gather my wand and since then we’ve cultivated a friendship.”

“Lord Black,” Bradley began, dropping into a deep bow. “Do... Chief MacLeod has spoken highly of you, and your House’s importance to our world, over these last few months. He has deep admiration and respect for you for the help you gave him while he recovered from the horrible attack on his family and others several years ago.” Arcturus’ eyebrow rose and his eyes darted to me even as Bradley continued. “I know that, as a muggleborn, I’m new to the magical world, but it’s a deep honour for me to meet someone my friend considers a mentor.”

I was impressed that Bradley managed to get all that out with only the slightest of slips regarding how to refer to me, Bradley’s years of studying at a private muggle school had paid off. I’d spent time drilling him on the need for manners and respect when dealing with purebloods, but this was his first test. I’d say he’d passed it, though with the caveat that he should’ve waited for Arcturus to address him first as he held the higher position in society.

“It is a pleasure to meet one of Chief MacLeod’s yearmates,” Arcturus said after a slightly uncomfortable pause. “I do hope that, when you are at Hogwarts, you do not allow things such as petty rivalries, jealousies, and the general misdemeanours of children to sour your friendship, or others that you might acquire.” I assumed that the pause was Arcturus’ way of pointing out Bradley’s mistake, but I couldn’t be sure of it.

“I’m aware of many of the common issues that exist with our world, Lord Black,” Bradley replied, once more referring to the Wizarding world as his. “While I wasn’t born in this world, I understand the importance of honouring tradition and thinking before I speak.”

“A wise choice to take with any topic,” Arcturus responded, offering Bradley a nod of approval as he examined the boy clinically. “One that is sadly all too often absent in those new to our world. I’m pleased to see that at least you are willing to consider why our traditions and culture are the way they are before offering an opinion.”

“You honour me, Lord Black.”

“I merely state the truth from what I can see,” Arcturus countered, dismissing Bradley’s pleasure at Lord Black’s earlier words. “Whether you are worthy of honour is a matter that will be determined by your actions and deeds. Chief MacLeod has done for you what few of his standing would in choosing to educate you. Others, from Houses older and younger than Clan MacLeod, will be far less understanding of your status and unwilling to allow you room to recover from any mistake.”

Bradley nodded, accepting Arcturus’ words. “Yes, Chief MacLeod has already warned me of this, Lord Black.” A few months ago, when I’d first explained this to him, he’d been annoyed, even angry about it, but he’d had time to process and accept how the Wizarding World worked. “Such behaviour is common in not just the Wizarding World, but the muggle world as well. Even extending to my family.”

Arcturus’ brow rose slightly at Bradley’s words, though he made no effort to respond. Knowing that was as far as he was going to take the conversation, I spoke. “Lord Black, my Head Elf has already prepared a suitable room for our meeting.” Arcturus lowered his head, accepting my words understanding he wouldn’t have to interact with the muggleborn any longer. “Bradley,” I continued as I turned to my friend, “I’ll send you an owl during the week regarding your invitation, and I’ll see what books are available in the library for furthering your studies.”

“Of course, until then,” Bradley replied, bowing to me, and then turning to Arcturus and repeating the gesture. “Lord Black, it was an honour to meet someone of your standing and prestige.”

“Indeed.”

I bit the inside of my lip, making sure to keep any hint of pleasure at how the first meeting between the pair had gone, and Arcturus’ casual dismissal of Bradley’s final comment. The Blacks were clear on their position regarding blood status and how it could enter their family. However, I knew a handful of Blacks had married half-bloods without being stricken from the family tree. I doubted they’d ever accept a muggleborn into their mist – at least not until Sirius if he turned out similar to the other timeline, became Lord – but I hoped that I could show those new to our world had some value that could be harnessed.

For Bradley, who’d flinched at Arcturus’ dismissal but not verbally responded, it was his first taste of what awaited him at Hogwarts and elsewhere in the Wizarding World. While I’d warned him of what to expect, a physical example would drive the lesson home better than me warning him of it a thousand times.

I offered Bradley a nod, and then turned, walking with Arcturus toward the room where we’d be talking. It wasn’t the same one I used for studying with Bradley, and I knew Kadic had already prepared the room with tea and biscuits.

“I hadn’t realised you were cavorting with muggleborns.”

“As I said, I met him when I was in Diagon Alley collecting my school wand,” I replied, my face away from his to ensure he couldn’t read anything in my expression. While I was far better at controlling and managing my reactions and emotions, it was still easy for someone of his skill to detect the minute hints that gave away my opinions. “His dress sense alone made clear where he came from, however, he displayed what appeared to be a genuine interest in our world that I felt had potential. Muggleborn he might be, but magic flows through him as it does us.” Arcturus made a small sound, not liking the comparison. “However, like all muggleborns, he needs guidance in the way the Wizarding World does and should work. Not the misguided ideals of those who think that we should follow muggle ways, or that the current system should be torn down, and our history trampled on. That is why I decided to guide his education on what is expected of him, and how those of higher standing – such as yourself – would react to his very presence. If he isn’t integrated into our world, taught the rules and how to use them, then the potential that marks him as worthy of attending Hogwarts alongside myself and others will be wasted.”

“It is rare to meet a muggleborn that doesn’t cause issues within our world.”

“Yes, and that, I feel, is a failing of the Ministry, and the leadership of our educational institutions. Though not always of the headmasters,” I added, as one previous Headmaster of Hogwarts had been Phineas Black, Arcturus’ grandfather. “Methods need to change to not squander whatever potential, however minor it might be, that muggleborns possess, or allow them to be corrupted with ideals that only undermine and weaken our world.”

“A minor nuisance at best.”

“Yes, but one that still needlessly diverts resources that could be put to other, more effective use. I don’t deny that most muggleborns have flawed ways of thinking, but that, sadly isn’t a condition unique to them or the world they come from.” Arcturus grunted, indicating an agreement, and likely thinking of members of the Wizengamot and beyond that he felt were flawed. “If given proper instruction and education, then I feel muggleborns might serve some purpose within our world; and we don’t have to be concerned about them becoming an irritation, or returning to the muggle world and working with whatever forces exist there to destroy our way of life.”

“Many would consider it wiser to simply remove them permanently to end the potential disruption they represent.”

“That is the easier path, but, as we are both aware, the easier path is not always the correct one. Nor the one that can reap the greatest rewards. Discarding a resource without attempting to harvest it is a fundamentally flawed position unworthy of higher beings such as ourselves.”

Some of what I was saying I might not entirely agree with, though I did agree that magical beings – regardless of what type – were superior to muggles. However, my words were chosen with my audience in mind, and what I felt would convince him to at least allow me to continue my experiment with Bradley.

Arcturus didn’t respond before we reached the sitting room prepared for our meeting, and when the door swung open on its own, he stepped back as Xeno came running toward me. I bend down, offering my hand to him which he used to leap onto my shoulders, a loud purr sliding from his throat as he nuzzled against my neck. “Hey there boy,” I said as my hand slipped under his chin.

“I see Xenocrates is capable of spending time away from your company.”

“Yes, though if I go too long – say a few hours – he can become angsty,” I replied as I gestured for Arcturus to enter the room first. “I just hope that by the time I attend Hogwarts, he’s capable of surviving most of a day without my direct presence and that his more special features don’t display themselves too openly.”

“I have spoken with my grandfather’s portrait on the matter, and consulted the relevant books regarding the rules on familiars at Hogwarts.” As he spoke, we moved toward the main table in the room. There Kadic had arranged, as expected, a pot of tea – which was charmed to ensure the contents remained hot – and several plates of biscuits for us to enjoy while we spoke. “If he were simply a pet, then even with you being Chief, he wouldn’t be permitted. Indeed, creatures, such as the raiju, which are classed at 3X or higher, are forbidden at Hogwarts outside very specific conditions.” That had me concerned as raiju such as Xeno were 4X classed, and capable once fully grown, of killing a witch or wizard. “However, one of those conditions is that the beast is the familiar of a witch or wizard with a direct blood connection to the Lord or Chief of this family. Since you are Chief, then this applies to you. Now, you will have to owl the Headmaster regarding the specifics of Xenocrates' situation, however, there is nothing Dumbledore can do to prevent you from taking the raiju to Hogwarts without petitioning the Wizengamot. I am sure that such a petition would fail as it would counter rights belonging to every House or Clan above Established Rank; including House Dumbledore.”

“That is a relief to hear,” I replied as we reached the table and took our seats. “While Xeno would be coming with me, I’m glad that I won’t instantly find myself at odds with the Headmaster. At least any more than I might already, given my Clan’s proclivities toward opinions he might disagree with.”

“Indeed.”

We settled into a comfortable silence as we poured and enjoyed the tea. While I wasn’t a huge fan of the drink, the brands available in the Wizarding World were superior to any I’d have before the merging, and since I was too young to enjoy anything stronger, it was the only acceptable drink for meeting such as this.

“Returning to the muggleborn,” I said after we’d each had a few sips of the tea – one imported from the Far East. “I’m uncertain if he will amount to much importance, but as I stated, the fact he had been accepted to Hogwarts suggests he has potential that should be investigated and nurtured. Choosing to not do so, is a waste of the effort placed into his education, and a gift to those who might use him, and others like him, against the foundations of our society.”

Arcturus stayed silent as I spoke, and continued to do so by sipping further at his tea. “And if he shows worth, what will you do? Offer vassalisation?”

I shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. It shall depend on his skills, though he shows an interest in potion making that I lack, and has a thirst to know more than what is provided in our textbooks.”

“A Raven?”

“I expect so,” I replied with a nod. “He isn’t, from what little I’ve seen, one with a strong sense of right and wrong, nor thankfully, ulterior motives.” Arcturus nodded, accepting that. Bradley wasn’t going into Slytherin, as he’d be destroyed there. From what I knew, there hadn’t been a muggleborn in the House in nearly fifty years, which was what, in time and based on history, gave rise to it being the house of the blood purists. While they did tend to congregate there, they existed in all of the Hogwarts houses. “However, until his sorting, I cannot be certain.”

“Indeed, and nor shall I reveal how you’re sorted.” I snorted, used to that response from the adults I knew. I already knew how we were sorted, but none knew that. “If the muggleborn proves his worth, will you grant him patronage or vassalisation?”

“I’m uncertain. The rulings regarding vassalisation are clear, and I cannot do so as I’m not a sitting member of the Wizengamot. Patronage might be doable. It depends on the exacting of the rules brought forth by the Ministry to allow that and on the Wizengamot permitting me to do so.”

“For the latter, I see no issue. The rule only requires that the head of a Clan or house informs the Ministry of the arrangement and that the one seeking patronage countersigns the document before a Ministry official. The age requirements for Patronage are far lower due to it being something that has existed since before the founding of the Wizengamot. The contracts signed also heavily favour the Clan or House offering patronage, with many such contracts placing the one who signed in a position little better than a House Elf.”

“That isn’t a surprise,” I responded, earning a nod from Arcturus. “While some Chiefs and Lords would ensure the contract was fair,” at least to their family, “many others would feel nothing wrong with all but enslaving the muggleborn, and potentially their offspring, in the process.”

“Indeed.”

“For the time being, I intend simply to guide Bradley and see where it leads. If he proves himself unworthy of my investment or displays attitudes unsuitable for a wizard, I shall, of course, distance myself from him. However, I find that unlikely to happen, and even less so that he will choose to leave our world and return to the muggle one once his education is concluded.”

“Many would consider such a position foolish.”

“Perhaps, but I’d say it was less foolish than simply eliminating muggleborns – something that would anger the largest portion of the Wizarding World – or force them back into the world they’d come from.” Half-bloods formed the majority of the Wizarding World and occupied most of the posts in the Ministry. The senior positions were generally held by purebloods, but by sheer weight of numbers, half-bloods were the dominant faction. “I’m not suggesting that muggleborns are more important than purebloods, or the Clans and Houses. Simply that they’re, like many other things, a resource to cultivate. While forcing them into servitude is one way to control them, eliminating them another, would it not be better if they felt more desire for our way of life than that they’d come from? A motivated worker is better than a conscripted one.”

“This opinion isn’t a common one in our world, and if openly discussed, could see you targeted by elements from across the various political spectrum.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. And how, for your House, my ideas seem heretical. Toujours Por.” He lowered his head when I quoted back his house saying. “However, the other paths, to me, lead to nothing but war between groups of wizards. This is something I cannot accept as anything more than a path toward our eventual extinction. Either at our hands or that of the ever-improving muggles.” I raised a hand, knowing he was planning to dismiss my words and wanting to continue. “I’m not, in any way, stating that even a thousand muggles are worth one competent wizard. I’m simply making clear that, with the improvements the muggles have made in the last century, they now pose at least a minimal threat to our way of life. While most in our world choose to dismiss muggles as something to be pitied or ignored, I don’t. They are a potential threat, and choosing to target muggleborns, by elimination or enslavement, only risks them and the muggles allying against us. While I feel we would win such a war, the destruction unleashed runs the risk of us only achieving a pyrrhic victory.”

“I don’t share your concerns about the threat posed by muggles,” Arcturus responded once I finished my speech. “However, I can see why you fear an alliance between them and muggleborns. I will also agree that muggleborns are a key issue to resolve. That said, I would suggest that bar those you consider trustworthy,” he lifted his cup slightly, indicating he was pleased he was amongst that group, “you keep such thoughts to yourself. While yours, they bear a similarity to many common opinions that gave rise to the Wizarding World War. There are forces in our world that would move to ensure you didn’t rise to be a problem to the current status quo, to say nothing of another Grindelwald.”

“Ignoring the flattery of being compared to such a powerful wizard,” I began, not missing the comment on my potential that was hidden in his words, “I’m aware of your concerns. You are, so far, the only one I have broached this subject with.”

“Ah. So that was why you engineered that little display? To ensure my most recent interaction with a muggleborn was favourable before we discussed the matter.”

“Guilty as charged,” I replied with a smirk. “As I said, I know the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black has a clear opinion on blood status. However, I simply wanted to observe your reaction to a muggleborn with some schooling and understanding of his place to display that while unworthy of marrying into your House, some have potential.” My thoughts drifted once more to Andromeda and Ted Tonks. I knew nothing about that muggleborn, but if he was at Hogwarts, then had the same potential as Bradley. “Your opinion, even above those of my ancestors and extended family, is the one I value most, and I hope that I retain it after today.”

“You do. I do not believe your plan has much chance of success, but even if only one in a hundred muggleborns prove themselves worthy, then there is worth in considering your idea. However, House Black will be refraining from supporting your position currently.” I lowered my head, accepting that. I knew things would get worse when Orion became Lord Black, simply because Walburga had him by the balls, but if Sirius wasn’t expunged from the House, then things should improve, or so I hoped. If Sirius was expunged, then I’d begun to influence Regulus as best I could. He was good enough to go to Hogwarts, and for Voldemort to make him a semi-important Death Eater, so he'd serve a purpose in the group I hoped to form while at Hogwarts.

“Now,” Arcturus resumed, “to the purpose of my presence today.” He placed his cup down and leaned back into his chair. “While you are unable to sit in the Wizengamot, either to vote or offer an opinion, an issue has been brought before our esteemed body and I’m curious as to your thoughts on the matter.”

“I’m unsure how I can offer advice as I lack the wisdom and clarity that comes with age.”

Arcturus snorted in amusement. “I assure you that, compared to many of my colleagues in the Wizengamot, you are wise and mature enough to offer opinions. So much so that I regret you cannot sit currently as I would enjoy seeing how you dissected those who dismissed you because of your age.”

I lowered my head, accepting the praise, even as my mind wondered what matter had brought him to my castle. Voldemort wasn’t due to begin his rise to power, at least officially. However, in his place, I’d engineer events to push those who believed the ideals he pursued of blood purity were ready to support him once he emerged into the public domain. I’d also, assuming he had created a loyal group at Hogwarts and in the years since, move to ensure those people, or members of their close family, were in positions of importance that could be exploited.

I knew that for the early years of his rise, there was little I could do to stop or delay him, but if I could work to undermine his efforts with the next generation, then I felt I had a chance. That didn’t just mean turning powerful pieces from the war – such as Bellatrix, Sirius, James, Lily, and Severus – to my cause, but finding new pieces to use. Which was where Bradley came into play.

“Then what matter is so critical that a child of eleven can offer clarity that members of the Wizengamot seem unable to provide?”

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This story is cross-posted on Fanfiction.net and Archive Of Our Own.