Step Lightly Where You Cannot See

She wanted to be annoyed at the rain.

It had picked up in the time they’d been in St. Mungo’s. No longer ‘tap-tap-taping’ away at the umbrella, but hitting it with enough **** for the fattened drops to make such an audible ‘thud’ as to begin to make hearing difficult.

A glance was shot up and down the alley. While not quite yet being worth called a deluge, it was enough of a downpour to diminish both vision and the already small number of shoppers.

She wanted to be annoyed at the rain, but couldn’t when it was being helpful.

“So…” A cloak of Purple said.

“Yes?” Replied the cloak of Yellow.

“I’ve been thinking over your idea.” Declared Purple resolutely.

“Yes?” Yellow drew out the word.

“And I think it’s a good idea.” Purple declared, though not quite as resolutely.

“Yes?” Yellow drew out the word a little further.

“But…” Purple looked around again. “Sooner or later, I will turn back. I mean, I should have changed back last night. Aren’t you only supposed to get an hour out of polyjuice?”

Yellow hummed, putting a finger to her lips in a show of thinking. “I remember something about how well it’s made effecting how long it last, but not what the longest last is.”

“Great. So all we know is that I will turn back – with no idea when that’ll be – and that I messed up the potion. Obviously.” She waved a hand in front of her face, a face that was clearly not that of Ginevra Molly Weasley. “I suppose we can add in that there’s probably other things the potion messed up, like… I don’t know. That my hair will magically always be this long, even after I turn back.”

“That wouldn’t be bad. I think you look good with long hair.” Yellow said with such dreamy earnestness, it made blood rush to Purple’s ears. “What I think you’d really be upset about is if you stayed this short.”

Purple blinked. “I’m not short. I’m the same height as you.”

Silvery eyes smiled as their owner gave a patient look. “I’m 5’3 with shoes on. Shoes that don’t have heels.”

Green eyes gave the other a befuddled look before glancing down at her boots, lifting one of them up enough to see it from the side. While the heel wasn’t one that could be labeled as ‘high,’ it wasn’t that far off. Looking back up at her companion with a deepening expression of worry, she realized that, even with her vertical assistance, she was barely - yet clearly - the shorter of the two.

“Yeah.” Purple said faintly, looking ahead with a horrified expression. “I think I’d be pretty upset about that too.”

The two stood there, sheltered under the umbrella side by side, as one gathered her thoughts.

“So!” Purple declared with renewed vigor. “Even more reason to get this potion figured out! Luna, can you run over to Flourish and Blotts and see if they have anything specifically on Polyjuice while I keep Mrs. Malfoy busy? I know there’s a book called something like, Most Potent Potions that talks about Polyjuice, but I don’t remember if it has anything in it past how to make it.”

“Of course, Purple. I’ll meet up with you later.” Luna turned on her heel and set off with a spring in her step.

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back, I promise.” Harry called after the blonde. A moment passed before she frowned. “Purple?”

Watching the Ravenclaw go, she shrugged and chalked it up to Luna being Luna.

Some minutes later, the door to The Potion Pestle - a store that had a sign of a stylized potion bottle sitting in a mortar - swung open and Narcissa stepped out. Even with her own rain cloak, the woman hurried over to join her niece under the umbrella and took over holding it.

“Such dreadful weather for June.” Narcissa bemoaned as they set off. “Really, there’s no reason you and your friend couldn’t have come into the apothecary with me. Where has she gone, anyways?”

“Needed to go check Flourish and Blotts for a book.” Harry said, not feeling it necessary to lie. “She’ll catch up with us later. Where are we heading now?”

Harry never would have expected it, but she was, in a curious way, looking forward to their next destination. While strange, the day hadn’t been a bad one. Breakfast, second breakfast, Luna, new clothes, kissing Luna, and her or his first ever official healers appointment.

True, second breakfast had included being attacked by the Weasleys and the clothes would be useless once she turned back. But it had all happened with her back in the wizarding world.

The world she belonged in.

“We do need to stop by Gringotts before we’re done. However…” Narcissa gave Harry an odd look. “There is something I had hoped we could do together. Just you and I.”

“And that would be?” Harry pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well… To get you a wand, dear.”

Harry blinked, surprised. “A wand?”

“Of course, there would be no need if you already acquired one in America.” Narcissa said quickly.

“No! No. I, uh, didn’t get a wand in America.” She said lamely, nearly tripping over the technical truth.

“Wonderful. We’ll do that now then.” Her aunt announced as excitedly as posh allowed.

---

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped through the door. Narcissa passed by a spindly chair that sat lonely in the corner to join Harry at the counter.

The ravenette ignored the sense of déjà vu as she looked around at the thousands of narrow boxes piled up to the ceiling, but didn’t do as well at swallowing the anxiety taking root in her chest.

At first there had been a sort of vindictive excitement at the idea of a Malfoy buying her a second wand. While there may have been a little guilt at taking advantage of Narcissa’s familiar devotion, she tempered it by telling herself how quickly that care would turn to cursing if the woman discovered the truth.

But by then the seed of doubt had been planted, sprouting into other reasons this was a bad idea. One of them being, why did every witch and wizard only have one wand?

Was there some rule, either magical or mundane? If so, how were people kept from breaking it? Could Ollivander just tell if you already had a wand? If it was wands that chose the wizard, maybe they could sense if you’d already been matched?

Her worry warted, giving idea after idea how this could go bad. The only cure Harry could come up with was that, regardless of any outcome, there couldn’t possibly be any way this ended with, “Oh? You already have a wand? You clearly must be Harry Potter!”

There would only be the mere, tiny, not zero chance this would lead to her having to explain why she just so happened to have the exact same wand as Harry Potter.

“Good Day.” Ollivander announced himself as he walked out from the back. “Ah, Narcissa Malfoy. Acacia and unicorn hair. Nine and three quarter inches. Sturdy but not inflexible. How has it been serving you?”

“As trustworthy as the day you first put it in my hand.” Narcissa said with a polite smile.

“Good, good.” Ollivander said, pleased. He turned his pale, silvery eyes on Harry, who found her worrying silenced in surprise by how much they reminded her of Luna’s. “And who might you be, young lady?”

“Seirios Black.” Harry said, not meaning to sound so defensive. She felt strangely on edge in a way that didn’t feel tied to her anxiety. Like there was some good reason she had not to be here, but had forgotten it.

“Black, you say?” Ollivander scratched his chin as she stared at her unblinkingly. He looked to Narcissa. “May I assume that she, since she is here with you, is A Black?”

Narcissa appeared to ponder this before giving a slight nod. “You may.”

“I see. I see.” Ollivander stared at Harry again, making that anxious plant sprout flowers of unease. “May I also inquire of the parents?”

The piebald woman’s expression did not change. None the less, her blue eyes became sharper yet distant. Like she was weighting her options on a very important decision.

“Her father is Sirius Black.” Narcissa stated, having made a choice. “Her mother is an American witch we are endeavoring to uncover the identity of. I trust you will keep this to yourself, Mr. Ollivander.”

Ollivander turned to Mrs. Malfoy, his misty-eyed look taking on some surprise and a hint of insult. “I have always judged a witch or wizard by the word of their wand. I ask professionally, only to assist in the selection process. She is here for a wand?”

“She is.” Narcissa relaxed and nodded, her polite smile genuine again.

“Good, good. Now, your father.” Once more those uncomfortably silver eyes were on her, feeling as if they weren’t looking at her, but into her. “Ebony with dragon heartstring. Ten and a half inches. Sharp and good for dueling. A fair enough starting point as any.”

Pulling out a box, Ollivander retrieved from within a handsome black wand and offered it. It felt comfortable in her hand. Familiar, almost. Unfortunately, when she gave it a little wave, there was no shower of sparks. Only a weak little flame came out of the end, as if it wasn’t an almighty magical instrument, but a mere safety lighter.

“No, I suppose not. We’re on the quidditch field though, so there’s that.” Ollivander said happily as he retrieved another. “Hmm. These are often close to ebony. Cypress, eight and-“

Narcissa’s hand slapped down on top of Mr. Ollivander hand, keeping the box on the counter and him from opening it. It made Harry flinch and look up at her, surprised at how quickly she’d moved.

“Perhaps we save the cypress wands for last.” Narcissa’s tone was polite yet held so little room for argument, Harry didn’t doubt she would march them out of the shop right then and there if Ollivander persisted.

But he merely shrugged and withdrew the box to get another. If anything, the wandmaker seemed impressed.

“How about… Yes. Aspen. Let’s see if it’s a martial factor.” The wand was in her hand and just as quickly out again. “No, no. That’s not it.”

Beech followed aspen, than elm. Narcissa was visibly disappointed when that was taken back. For the baker’s dozen of wands followed, her aunt showed no care either way for any of them. That changed when a beautiful scarlet wand was handed over.

“Redwood and phoenix feather. Twelve inches. Hearty and eager for any magic that involves the creation of new things. Made by my father, hence the gold ring around the top of the handle there. I dropped using minerals and such when I took over the business. While they can have some enhancing qualities, I’ve found it makes the wands irrationally picky. Hopefully this one’s wait for its master is finally over. Go on now, give it a try.”

Bizarrely, Harry didn’t want to.

There was… something. Something to this wand that made her pause. It didn’t feel wrong in any sort of way. It felt great, actually. Warm and comfortable in the palm in her hand.

It made his holly wand come to mind. Had it ever felt like this? Even for that first time, all those years ago?

Harry lowered the wand, an unknown prompt telling her to give it an upward slash. It was the first nameless cue that made her hesitate, urging her to instead put down the wand. To put it down before she did… something.

The feeling made the hairs on the back of her neck raise, like proceeding would gain her the ire of some hidden, watching predator.

No, no. That wasn’t it. She realized her mouth had gone dry as she tried to focus. To get ahold of the strange sensation and **** it to define itself.

Only for it to remain abstract and nameless. Slipping away from conscious attention, baying a primal warning that set her fight or flight instincts alight and heart beating hard in her chest.

In what felt like an age but could have only been a moment, she made her choice.

If she couldn’t find out one way, she would find out the other.

Gritting her teeth, she willed her magic into wand and thrust it upwards. A flock of small, colorful birds erupted into being and flew around the shop, filling it with so much of their splendid song, it was as if in effort to turn back the rain with their cheer.

“Bravo, my dear girl!” Ollivander clapped, making Harry realize she was grinning from ear to ear. She looked down at the wand in amazement. It felt good. No, fantastic! As if that first day in Diagon Alley with Hagrid was entirely in the palm of her hand. Why in the world should she have been worried about this?

Harry looked up at Ollivander, wishing she could ask. The man was still smiling as he prepared the sale, several birds landing on his shoulders. Most she realized had come to rest on her, sitting on or clinging to any available space. One bird braver then the rest had landed on Narcissa’s offered hand, the womans lips subtlety upturned in a proud, expectant sort of way. As if there couldn’t have been any more beautiful of a wand with any more dazzling a reaction to anyone but a member of her family.

“I say, after a display like that. Well,” Ollivander said in a jovial tone. “I don’t know if I’ll be making any wands with metal in them anytime soon. But perhaps that avenue is one that deserves a second look. For now, however, I believe you have found your-“

‘Bang!’

A sound like a gunshot cracked through the shop, sending the birds flying as one to escape further into the building. Harry, wand already in hand, jumped and looked for the source, ready to fight. Narcissa was as well, having drawn her wand in a flash.

The only one who didn’t have a wand in hand was Ollivander. The man’s eyebrows slowly furrowed and he turned to look back into the shop, through the entry he had appeared from. Harry moved to the side to look as well, Narcissa joining.

There, at the end of the hallway, lay a box.

While it had to be a wand box, there was something different about it that she couldn’t make out without his glasses. She glanced at Narcissa in hopes of getting a read of the situation and saw, while puzzled, the woman wasn’t alarmed.

“Mr. Ollivander?” Narcissa prompted. But Ollivander didn’t reply. The man looked at the box, maybe waiting for it to do something else, before looking back at Harry for a moment to only turn back to the hallway.

“How curious.” He muttered, walking casually over to gently pick up the box. He returned to the counter where he placed it there, never taking his eyes off of it. He stood there for several moments before speaking.

“Miss Black. Are you familiar with the process of how a witch or wizard comes to have a wand?”

Black eyebrows furrowed. While she knew the answer, she needed to keep on script with playing dumb. But why was she getting asked this in the first place? “I’ve heard it has to do with the wand needing to like you. Or something.”

“You are close.” The man finally took his eyes off the box to look at her, motioning her closer. As she approached, she took in mystery box in greater detail. While all of the wand boxes he’d ever seen were made out of some kind of cardboard and not much larger than the wand they contained, this one was made out of age faded wood and large enough to contain several wands at once.

“While anyone may buy any wand they choose, they will never have those wands perform for them as well as a wand that has chosen them. It is the wand that chooses the witch, Miss Black. Or, in this case, the wands.”

“Multiple wands, Mr. Ollivander?” Narcissa asked. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening. Let alone with… wands that she has not tried.” Malfoy faltered, seemingly as lost as Harry was as to how many wands could be contained within the mystery box.

“It’s rare, certainly. But not unheard of amongst makers to have wands quarrel, so to say, over a wizard. I myself see it every three or seven years.” He switched his gaze from Narcissa back to Harry. “You, Miss Black, are right on time for the seven. I’ll take that one back and give you a look.”

Harry reluctantly allowed the redwood to be put back in its box. It was at least kept separate for the others she’d tried.

Ollivander took hold of the mystery box and slowly pulled the lid off, both women uneasily waiting to see what was contained.

It wasn’t a collection of wands. There wasn’t even velvet, silk, or cloth to hold a wand, like all the other boxes had. Instead, there was a bedding of discolored straw, in which was nested a single wand.

Thick in the handle and long in the neck, it wasn’t as large as implied by its container. That didn’t mean, however, it wasn’t possibly the biggest wand Harry had ever seen with his or her own eyes.

“Elder and phoenix feather. Eighteen inches.”

Harry glanced at Ollivander when he didn’t continue, either mentioning what kind of magic the wand favored, what it was like physically, or just some random tidbit. The man remained silent, only giving her a small motion to proceed.

With pursed lips, Harry reached into the box and gingerly withdrew the wand, suspecting it to be old and possibly fragile. But it felt like any of the other new wands, other then the size difference.

And a difference it was.

In her Luna sized hand, the other wand handles had felt noticeably bigger, but not uncomfortably so. The handle of this wand was similar in size to that of a cricket bats. It felt like she was supposed to grip it like a bat too, as when she gripped it like a wand, her fingers weren’t able to wrap entirely around and reach the base of her thumb.

Looking it over, the comparisons didn’t stop there.

Wherein the redwood wand was elegantly graceful in its simplicity, this elder wand was just… simple. Simple, straightforward, to the point, and plain.

It’s color too was lackluster. What might have once been pleasant enough lighter and darker shades of woody browns had been tainted with a sickly paleness. The only upfront detail the wand had to indicate its age.

She couldn’t even feel anything from it. No warmth, comfort, or magical anything. Just the heaviness that came with its size.

Harry glanced at Narcissa, hoping for once the woman would be a snobby Malfoy and demand her niece be given the redwood. But her hopes were dashed, the piebald woman watching doubtfully but silently.

Feeling ridiculous for she how must look like some small child that had gotten ahold of their parent’s wand, Harry took a step back and groaned to herself as she reluctantly raised the wand-

-only for everything on the front counter to go flying back, as if some long armed man had swept it all off in a rage. Narcissa, having been paying close attention to Harry, was caught off guard and jerked away in surprise. Ollivander didn’t have time to react, as he was pelted by most of the wands Harry had tried. A glass case missed him by inches to shatter against a support beam. The wand it had been displaying snapped loudly.

Harry stood wide eyed and frozen in place, wand still elevated and untried.

“Well.” Ollivander stated after a few tense moments, patting down his front and looking over the mess. “That is most curious indeed for one person to get such strong reactions from these two of all wands.”

“But I didn’t do anything with this one. It did that on its own.” Harry said defensively, slowly lowering her arm in worry that the wand might misfire again.

“Yes, wands with phoenix feather cores are known to do that.” The wandmaker stated, resting his elbows on the counter. “I do recognize why you may have reservations. One wand, you paired with quite nicely, while the other would give you ****.”

Ollivander reached behind the counter and dug for a moment before straightening up and placing the redwood wand back before her. He reached out his hand in a silent request for the elder, which Harry happily gave back, and he placed it so the two wands were side by side.

“Now, Miss Black. We have two wands here, both with phoenix feather cores, but one of redwood and the other of elder. Do you know the difference between these two woods?”

Harry shook her head, but it was Narcissa who spoke next. “They’re opposites. Redwood brings fortune while elder brings misfortune.”

“Yes, yes. That sums up the common view of the two.” He nodded. “It is also inaccurate. Redwood wands do not bring luck, but are able to reach their greatest potential with those who make their own luck. Wands of self-fulfilling prophecy, as it were.”

Harry clenched her jaw at the word, ‘prophecy.’

“Elder wands, as you said, are something of an opposite to redwood. Not with luck, but with…” It took Ollivander a few seconds to decide best how to say what he was thinking. “One’s life path.”

Harry pursed her lips. There was no way. No chance this was about what she thought it was.

“Where a redwood wand seeks the hand of one who makes their own path, elder finds itself wielded by those who have already had a path selected for them.”

That bad feeling was back. This time though, it wasn’t in warning of something that could go wrong. But in that something had gone wrong.

She flinched a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Though having no way of knowing the true cause, Narcissa had picked up on her worry and laid a hand on Harry opposite shoulder, pulling her to her side. The woman had not taken her eyes off the wands.

Harry took a moment to collect herself. The two wands sat before her.

One warm.

The other, cold.

---

They left the store together, pausing for Narcissa to open the umbrella before setting off, Harry holding the large wood box under one arm.

It hadn’t been much of a choice. Not without thing about Ron and Hermione. Luna, Ginny, Neville. The Weasley’s, Hogwarts, and everyone else in the magical world. If this wand somehow played a part in the prophecy between him and Voldemort, he couldn’t leave it behind.

That hadn’t stopped the hot, frustrated anger from boiling in her chest. A few hours. Maybe even a single day wherein he could pretend to not be ‘The Boy Who Lived.’ To not be the one always looked at and talked about. But no. Even as a completely different person, destiny couldn’t go a day without reminding Harry Potter what Harry Potter had to do. What the entire purpose of his life was for.

It hadn’t been a choice, as much as she wished it could have been.

In need of a distraction, she looked to Narcissa. The woman had been silent since Ollivander had finished his explanation, watching like a hawk as Harry waffled over the wands. But when a choice had finally been made, Harry had glimpsed the woman’s emotionless mask slip for just a moment.

Vindication.

But why? What about this elder wand, of her niece having a “special destiny,” could bring out that emotion of all things?

A snide voice in the back of her mind pointed out that the Malfoy was probably just happy how her special pureblood club would be made more special by having a specially fated person in it.

Rain ‘thud-thud-thudded’ away at the umbrella, sounding an awful lot like the imaginary rain raining on her imaginary parade.

“That was fun.” She said sourly, still in need of a distraction. “What’s the next stop? Gringotts?”

“It is. We need to get you sorted out with the goblins, so best to get it handled. We can track down your friend after.” Narcissa remarked, back to her normal, poshly casual self.

Harry nodded, though not really caring. Her mind drifted back to the shop and the beautiful redwood wand.

“One who makes their own destiny, huh?”

Well, if Seirios Black could get away with having a holly and an elder, maybe once he and old Voldemort had settled things, Harry Potter could see to having a holly and a redwood.

But back to being distracted.

“What was that about my mom being some unknow America witch?”

Narcissa glanced around, looking like a parent whose child had asked a private question in public. But she relaxed, as no one else seemed willing to brave the weather.

“It’s… fair you ask that.” The piebald woman said, partly seeming like she wanted to chastise her niece but lacked the justification to do it. Before continuing, she drew out her wand and silently cast some spell before putting her wand away, even though nothing appeared to have happened. “I’m unaware of what views are held in America, but you’ll find here that there are many that will judge you based on your parentage. While you are the offspring of a witch and wizard, there are those who will look down on you for your mother being the child of muggles. Non-magical people.”

“Most, however, will look down on you for being the result of a witch and wizard that were unwed. And while I do not regret you being here, however it came about.” Narcissa now put a hand on Harry opposite shoulder and pulled her into a comforting half hug. “I must warn you of this. There are very few who will treat you fairly if it becomes public knowledge that you are - what would appear to an outsider - the product of an affair between an unwed wizard and a witch married to another man.”

Harry opened her mouth to say something, only for the realization to hit and a small, “Oh.” to come out instead. While she had mentally rolled her eyes at the first point and been ready to give some sarcastic remark, she hadn’t expected the other two. Not with how comparable they were with views in the muggle world.

If those things were bad now in the muggle world - and they weren’t nearly as bad as they used to be - how bad would they be in the wizarding world, where the culture seemed entirely medieval at times?

“The damage it would do to your reputation when you’ve only just arrived would be… difficult to overcome.” Narcissa remarked when given that question. “You would be shielded somewhat by the status of being a Black, but the only real recourse you would have would be either distancing yourself from your parents or providing fabricated proof that he had been married to and produced you with a woman other then you mother.”

“I am not distancing myself from my parents.” Harry growled without hesitation. Narcissa looked surprised, but not disapprovingly, at that.

“Then best we make sure the most anyone ever gets is the story I gave Ollivander. While not an impervious cover story, its vagueness will buy us time to come up with a solution.” The woman said with finality, taking out her wand, giving it another wave, and returning it as they approached Gringotts.

The banks lobby was as empty of humans as the street outside had been. That hadn’t affected the number of goblins that were working behind the high counter. Each spot was occupied by a teller that was writing, weighing, or otherwise laboring away just as busily as if they had a line of customers before them.

Narcissa strolled up to one of the bankers at random. “Seirios Black, here to be registered.”

“Identification.” The goblin stated what was probably supposed to be a question flatly, not looking up from his work nor seeming to care how the piebald woman had all but demanded his attention.

“Go ahead, dear.” Narcissa said, turning to Harry. “Show him your ring.”

The ravenette blinked, nonplussed, and held up her empty hands. “Uh…”

“Ah. Of course.” The Malfoy gave a small shake of her head, berating herself for being forgetful. “My apologies. You just seem so comfortable with all of this that it can slip my mind how new you are to it. Keep your hands up and focus on calling forth your family ring, like this.”

Narcissa held up her left hand, palm down and fingers out, and after a moment a large, silver ring with a stylized ‘M’ phased into existence. Harry looked down to her own, smaller hands, and, having no idea how to ‘call’ a ring, vaguely willed it to appear.

For a moment, nothing happened. Only for there to be an odd tingling sensation on her left hand.

On her middle and index finger.

“Only the Black family ring!” She mentally screamed, heart lurching as realization struck. “Only Black family rings!”

The tingling on the index finger ceased a fraction of a second before a ring materialized on her middle finger. It was large and silver, but showed nothing on its face at first. Then, it changed to spotless gold with the Black family crest and moto displayed perfectly in miniature against black. It showed proudly for several heartbeats before the ring returned to silver and the face to a stylized ‘B,’ though surrounded with a thin circle of gold.

“Well done.” Narcissa smiled, somehow not noticing the near fit of terror her niece had experienced. “Now hold it up for him to check.”

With a herculean effort, she kept her hand steady while raising the ring as high as she could. The goblin stood to bend over the counter and tapped his quill against the ring before sitting back down. Lowering the hand, Harry rubbed the unfamiliar ring with her opposite hand as the goblin opened what sounded like a drawer behind the counter and retrieved a parchment, which he placed before him. Tapping the quill against the paper, it immediately began to scribble away, despite the teller having let go.

A long minute passed with only the subtle sounds of the banker’s work echoing through the large, marble lobby. The quill announced its task done by lifelessly flopping over, in which the goblin snapped up the paper and made a show of looking over it several times. He announced he was done by looking behind him and snarling, to which there was a hasty pitter-patter of feet and rustling of the parchment being handed over, the hidden individual than rapidly retreating.

“Everything is in order. Will there be anything else?” The goblin again flatly stated.

“No.” Narcissa confirmed before leading Harry away so abruptly, she nearly tripped over her own feet for the second time that day.

“That’s it?” Harry asked, pulling up her hood as they exited the building.

“That’s it.” Narcissa replied, putting up the umbrella. “What were you expecting?”

“Some kind of big test, I guess. Using blood or something.”

“Nothing so brutish. We can thank Merlin for that.” The piebald woman did a light, refined sort of chuckle only to turn very serious, stopping them both in the street to have Harry be face to face with her. “Just to be clear, has anyone ever taken you blood?”

“Uhh,” The ravenette hesitated, thrown off by the sudden mood change. Her mind went back to last year and how Umbridge had made him spend detentions writing lines with his own blood. Did that count as taking his blood? He’d left those bloody parchments behind with Umbridge, so that felt like a yes. On the other hand, there was no way she could explain that. “No?”

Sharp blue eyes stared into green. After several seconds, Narcissa stood straight and gently ushered her along. “I don’t mean to frighten you, but you must understand how important what I’m about to say is. Do not, under any circumstance, ever let anyone get ahold of your blood other than a certified healer. Terrible things can be done with blood.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed quietly after a moment, thinking of the graveyard. “I understand.”

---

Luna was still in Flourish and Blotts, sitting on the ground in the potions section, a stack of books by her side.

“Err, Luna?”

“I’m sorry.” The blonde didn’t look up from the book she was flipping through, her brows furrowed in frustration. “I haven’t been able to find anything on Polyjuice. Every book they should have on it is gone.”

“Polyjuice?”

Luna froze, that voice not the same as the first. Looking up, she took in the sight of Narcissa Malfoy standing behind Harry in the aisle with a reluctantly curious look while Harry’s face, hidden to Narcissa but visible to Luna, held an expression that said, “… Shit.”

“My dear girl, why on earth would you feel the need to study Polyjuice?” Narcissa asked with all the enthusiasm of someone who didn’t really want to know but couldn’t bring themselves not to ask.

The blonde blinked slowly, drew in a breath, and then with the most serious expression Harry had ever seen her wear, said, “The Flobberworm Conspiracy.”

“What?” Narcissa and Harry said at the same time.

“**** Easters who don’t want to be **** Eaters anymore are gathering hundred year old flobberworms to mind control and feed polyjuice to take on the appearance of Ministry clerks to access records of the **** Eaters not wanting to be **** Eaters being **** Eaters so the flobberworms can than eat any records of the **** Eaters being **** Eaters because anything that’s written down being eating by a hundred year old or older flobberworms can never be written down again and thus eventually be forgotten which will free the **** Eaters who don’t want to be **** Eaters from being **** Eaters because no one will remember them being **** Eaters.” Luna sucked in a great breath, having said that all in one go, and looked to Narcissa and asking in a dreamily casual way, “Mrs. Malfoy, do you have any books that go into detail on Polyjuice we can look at?”

It took a second for Harry to mentally rally, but when she did, she cottoned on to Luna’s angle and turned to hit Narcissa with a begging expression that she tried to have say, “I know she’s crazy but she’s also my friend. Please humor her?”

And, surprisingly, it worked. Narcissa letting out a little huff from her nose as her defenses crumbled. “If I recall correctly, there should be a few books in the Black Library on that. Seirios and I are heading back now, so you may as well join us.”

---

“But why the library of all places?” Narcissa asked herself. The woman stood in a thinking pose, tapping her wand against her lips as she stared down an unassuming door down the hallway from the kitchen. A head of raven hair stuck out from said kitchen, and, seeing the piebald woman still working, withdrew.

“Yeah, she’s still at it.” Harry stated – keeping her voice low enough so that only Luna would hear – as she sat back down at the kitchen table and took a drink of tea. One end of the table held Harry’s shopping bags - along with trunk on the floor - while the other held the sandwich lunch she’d fashioned. While Narcissa had stated they go out to lunch after swinging by Grimmauld Place, that had been before they’d found the library to be as difficult to enter as number twelve should have been.

“It is strange The Order would put extra security on the library.” Luna remarked in a dreamily discreet tone. Having finished her sandwich and most of her crisps, she’d moved on to examining Harry’s new wand with great interest. “Most families have their libraries warded so only direct family members can enter, along with people the head of the house has given permission. So it feels redundant to do anything on top of that.”

“Wait. Warded as in separately?” Harry asked, lowing her half eaten second sandwich. “They set up different protections for the house and the library? Why would they do that?”

“Most wizard families that have been around for even a little while have things that family has come up with. Spells, potions, wards, and all other kinds of magical things. They keep other people from knowing about those things by keeping all documentation of it in their library’s.”

“So they lock up their library’s to keep their inventions secret?”

“Yep!”

“But… If other people can’t know about that stuff, how does it ever get used? What’s the point of inventing it in the first place if it’s basically useless?”

Luna spared Harry an odd look. “Because if they can keep that spell or such a secret long enough, it becomes something only that family can use.” Luna set down the wand and gave Harry her full attention. “Has no one ever told you about the Albion Family Magics?”

“No. What are they?”

Luna was quiet for several moments, her dreamy-ness fading as she fixated on Harry with silent consideration. Harry, becoming unsettled with her unblinking stare, was about to speak when Luna beat him to it.

“What rings do you have?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, glanced over her shoulder to make sure Narcissa wasn’t about to walk in before turning back to Luna and laying her left hand on the table between them. Concentrating, the same tingling feeling from the bank returned on her middle and index fingers that, after a second, brought forth two rings. One was the Black family ring, still showing a stylized ‘B.’

The other went though the same process as its companion had earlier. Silver with a blank face, then gold with a crest and motto she didn’t recognize, and finally silver again with a stylized ‘P,’ also with a thin ring of gold around the letter.

“Nice to know I’m still me.” Harry said with a mirthless chuckle. At Luna’s questioning gaze, she explained how the Black family tapestry had shown Lilly to still be her mother while showing Sirius to instead be her father. That, and the unknow American witch cover story Narcissa had come up with.

“I don’t know how something like that would work. Or even if anyone else has something like it.” Luna hummed thoughtfully, her dreaminess reasserting itself. “I could ask daddy about it. He might know someone that has one.”

“Well… Maybe later. I doubt I’ll be like this long enough for it to matter.” Harry said. Even just the mentioning of Sirius was threatening to bring out feelings she didn’t want to experience, let alone show. The subject needed to be changed. “Why did you want to see my rings?”

“Oh! I thought it was really weird how you don’t know anything about the family magics and wanted to make sure something bad hadn’t happened. But you have the rings, so you’re fine.” Luna said with a smile.

“These rings are really that important?” Harry asked dubiously, holding the rings up for a closer look. “They’re not just keys to get into your vault at Gringotts?”

“Oh no! They do all sorts of things.” Luna said excitedly, only to stop as she seemed to reconsider something. “But you should ask Mrs. Malfoy about all of that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she’s really happy to have you here and going over stuff like that would probably be something that she’d really like to do with you. And if you’re going to spy, that’s a good way to get closer to her.”

Harry opened her mouth to reply, said nothing, and closed it before blinking a few times as that sunk in.

“Luna?”

“Yes?”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Luna beamed.

Any further conversation was cut off by the rapid approach of heels. Harry managed to get the rings to fade away a second before Narcissa sped into the room, looking flustered.

“I’m sorry dears, but we won’t be able to get into the library today or go out to lunch. I lost track of time while inspecting the protections and now I’m late for a very important meeting. Luna, while you’re free to stay for the rest of the day, I’m afraid you can’t stay the night if you were planning to. There’s some family matters Seirios and I need to go over together this evening.”

“I understand, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for letting me join you and Seirios today.” Luna did a gracious little bow in her chair, crossing her hands in her lap and tilting her head to the older woman, which made her smile.

“And Seirios.” Narcissa placed both her hands comfortingly on Harry’s shoulders. “I’ll be back around sundown, so please stay in the house till I return. Will you be alright until then?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” Harry said.

Weirdly, that didn’t seem like an answer Narcissa was entirely happy with. But after a moment, the woman gave Harry’s shoulders one more squeeze before she turned and hastily made for the front door.

The two sat in silence, waiting to hear for the front door to close and giving it an extra minute in case Narcissa doubled back for something.

“Well,” Harry said, breaking the silence and leaning back in her chair while idly picking at her sandwich. “There goes trying to figure out what I did wrong with the potion. I guess we’ll just have to hope for the best.”

Luna turned her silvery blue eyes on her. “You’re going to go through with spying on the **** Eaters?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, a smidge weakly before rallying to nod strongly and speak firmly. “Yeah, I am. I’m not doing anyone any good being locked up in Privet Drive. If I can get good info for Dumbledore and the Order at the cost of playing pretend for one summer, then I’ll do it.”

Luna did a little cheer and clapped, which made Harry feel quite good.

---

True to her word, it was after dark when she returned.

The house was quiet. Once upon a time, that wouldn’t have bothered her. It would have been a boon compared to what this residence had been like when she’d visited as a child.

It was, perhaps, ironic how the silence did the opposite of bring her comfort.

Walking quickly, she made for the kitchen, wherein was the only source of light to be seen. The sigh of relief she gave when she found Seirios sitting at the kitchen table was silent but no less earnest.

“Hello, dear. I apologize for having to leave and keep you waiting.” She said, stepping at a more regular place to join her niece at the kitchen table. As she did so, she glanced around the room. Dumbledore and ilk had changed it a great deal from what she recalled.

“It’s fine. It let me and Luna get caught up.” Seirios smiled, which made it easier to keep herself from grimacing at her nieces’ poor grammar. “How was your meeting?”

“Productive. My tardiness was not minded.” She glanced at the numerous books piled on the table. Strange. “Are these yours?”

“No. They’re Luna’s.” The ravenette picked up the book she had been reading to show to her, which she recognized as The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5. It was open to a page covering the substantive charm, though much of the free space was covered in doodles of animals she didn’t recognize. “She was really interested in all my magic textbooks from America. I offered to let her borrow them, but she said she’d feel better doing a swap. So, I’ve been poking through these to see what magic is like here.”

“Oh? Is there a difference?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“Not too much. It does seem like magic over here is more… grounded? Not trying to be so showy?”

Narcissa hummed and nodded. The Americans being showy was only to be expected.

“You’re lucky to have made Miss Lovegood’s acquaintance.” While The Lovegood’s were not a family that had historically seen eye to eye, so to speak, with The Malfoy’s or The Black’s, this friendship between the two heiresses may prove to be an opportunity. “And to have grown so close.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Her niece made a good effort to hide her emotions behind an easygoing smile, but her reddening ears were telling. “I’m definitely glad I met Luna.”

An interesting opportunity.

“Did you have a chance to have any supper? It’s not too late to bring in a meal if you’re hungry.”

“That’s okay. I’ve been snacking on everything here.” Seirios gestured to the kitchen at large. “Those people who were here kept the place pretty well stocked.”

“At least there is that.” She kept the sneer that wanted to show contained. “And it allows us to move on to the family matters I mentioned. Come, let me show you.”

She stood and started for the hallway, her niece following. The light from the kitchen fireplace spilled into the corridor, making visibility good enough for the stairs on the ground floor but barely enough by the first. Stopping on the on the landing, she took out her wand and waved it at the gas lights along the walls. A few sputtered to life, but only lasted a few seconds before going out.

“Of course.” She sighed, lifting her wand above her head and giving it a flick. Starlight came into being on its tip, lighting the way from them to proceed upward. Past the second floor as well as the third, they stopped at the fourth, as the stairs ended.

Leading the young woman past several rooms, including Sirius’s and Regulus’s, to one at the end of the hallway. While its door was like all the others at a glance, it had one extra feature. A small engraving of a stylized ‘B’ above the doorknob, where a keyhole would otherwise be.

She ignored it and opened the door, revealing a thin stairway leading even further upwards. The wooden stairs creaked and groaned under their feet, dusty enough to suggest no one had been up here for quite a while.

Finally, they reached their destination.

The attic was as she remembered. Dirty windows let in a meager amount of light from the street lamps outside, leaving her Lumos to do most of the work. What was revealed were many stacked dusty boxes, crates, and trunks. Old mannequins wearing mismatched, faded clothing. Furniture, some covered with cloth, others not. Animal cages, at least one still containing its original inhabitant.

All that and more, crammed into a room that gave off the vague sense of being too large to fit on top of the home bellow.

Thankfully, there was a winding path between it all, allowing the two to squeeze through in single file towards the middle, where, after passing a wall of trunks and a mirror cabinet, a raised platform came into view.

“Here we are.” She told Seirios, reaching a handrail-less set of stairs that were at such an angle, they were almost a ladder.

“What’s this?” Her niece asked, eyeing the structure as she followed with noticeable care up the stairs.

“The upper ritual room.” She replied in a tone of perfectly measured casualness. Giving her wand a flick, her Lumos spell went out and the many support-beam mounted candles around the raised stage flickered into life.

She stepped onto the platform and glanced back. Seirios had stopped halfway up the stairs.

“Sorry. Did you say ritual room?” The ravenette asked guardedly.

“Yes.” She replied, her tone picture perfect calm, free of any contest.

There was a moment of silence, her niece seemingly thrown by her honesty.

“Okay. So… Just so we’re on the same page here. We’re talking rituals, as in, like, dark magic?”

And there it was. She had been afraid of this. Of American views being the same as the British common.

All the better she had planned for this.

“Dear, what could be dark about fixing your eyesight?”

The girl flinched. “I, I’m not… My eyes-“

“Are terrible.” She interrupted. “I’ve suffered with watching you stumble around all morning. And not once did you mention needing to purchase glasses, or needing to find the ones you already had. Or, I suspect, did those muggles not want to buy you a set?”

She spit the word out with a little more venom then intended, but it worked. Her niece hemmed and hawed in that way she’d already come to recognize as the girl knowing the truth but not wanting to say it.

Narcissa let her niece stew a few heartbeats before letting out a quiet sigh that was just loud enough for its sympathetic tone to be picked up on. Carefully stepping down the stairs, she sat on one so her and Seirios were seeing eye to eye before reaching down to gently take the girls hands in her own. The position was nonconfrontational, but openly made her out to be the patient, caring parent and Seirios to be the child that didn’t understand.

Draco hated it when she did this, as it had worked on him every time since he was five.

“Seirios. Look at me.” The poor girl. Draco never won in the end, but he at least put up a fight. Seirios though looked so immediately uncomfortable with their intimate position, she gave off every sign of wanting to be somewhere else. It hurt to see. “Please.”

Slowly, as if it took immense effort on her part, her niece brought her green eyes up to look into her blue.

She really did have her father’s hair and her mothers’ eyes.

“Tell me. What is it about rituals that has you this… concerned.” Not frightened. Not scared. Those had negative connotations that might provoke a kneejerk reaction. Being ‘merely concerned’ did not.

“Well…” Already her niece floundered. The reaction of someone who’d picked up a belief without ever having questioned it. But she rallied as something came to mind. “Because it needs to hurt someone else to work. Like, maybe you could bring someone who’s just about dead back to life at the cost of someone else’s life.”

“That is very insightful.” She nodded, giving her niece credit like she’d answered a question given to her in class. “All rituals require something to be given so something can be gained. There are rituals that do require someone to be harmed for someone else to be helped.”

She gave her niece a comfortable, gentle squeeze of the hands. “This is not one of those rituals. I can give up some of my magic-“

“What!?”

“-temporarily in exchange to help you. I will be fine.” She assured the girl. “I will only be tired, as if I’d been casting spells all day. I am fine with that if it means helping you to be able to see. Okay?”

Seirios, while not as alarmed as before, didn’t look ‘okay.’ Nonetheless, she allowed herself to be gently pulled up onto the platform.

It was a sizable space, large enough to fit the length of a horse drawn carriage both directions. While there were no railings – “Anyone stupid enough to fall deserves to fall.” – one side did have a workbench with many sturdy shelves above and below it.

A majority of the platform was taken up by a hollow square of white rock that showed no signs of being anything other than one continuous piece of stone.

Letting go of her niece to let her remain where she willed, she strode over to the bench. With a swish of her wand, the thick dust and many cobwebs vanished, revealing a workspace so cluttered with items, it looked more like the last user had only just stepped out mid task, rather than the space laying neglected for years.

With proper lighting and a clean work area, it took her only a moment to track down what she needed. Moving aside a fat jar of preserved horse hearts, she withdrew a moderate tin, opened it, and took in hand a stick of white chalk, just like one a teacher might use on a blackboard.

Stepping into the stone square, she got down on her hands and knees and began to draw.

And draw.

And draw.

She remained focused on her task, ignoring the protesting of her knees, the complaining of her back, or the cramping in her hand. She only stopped when she ran out of chalk and had to request Seirios hand her more.

Though she would never equate her niece to one, the strategy she employed even now on the girl was the same as dealing with a frightened animal. Given time, fear would be replaced with boredom, and boredom with curiosity, when what brought on that fear didn’t happen.

So, it was no surprise that Seirios, while cautious, willingly approached the square to resupply her even if she was quick to retreat. But as time wore on, the ravenette became more adventurous. Moving from her spot by the stairs and examining the many items on the shelves and bench before coming to sit next to the stone, tin of chalk in hand, watching her painstaking prepare an extensive diagram.

Finally, using white coated hands to push herself up knees that popped in protest, it was done.

“That’s… a lot.” Seirios said, helping her to her feet. “Did you just now make that all up?”

“Goodness, no.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “There is no, ‘making up’ when it comes to rituals. Everything has its place and purpose. No, I memorized this as a girl, just as you’ll learn it as well.”

Her niece blanched at that, making her laugh again. She’d had that same reaction.

“That will be later, though. For tonight, your part is simple. First, you need to undress.”

“What!? Why would I need to do that? You didn’t take off your clothes.”

“I did not need to be free of outside magic, like what all robes have at least a trace of, to simply draw the diagram.” She said patiently. “And while I will be affected by the ritual, I will not be a participant in it. Only you will be.”

She couldn’t help but smile at Seirios’s mutinous expression. The poor girl likely had no idea how unsuccessful her face was at holding anger. There was too much pout there for the glower to hold weight, instead making it cute.

“It’s just us up here and you have nothing I haven’t seen before, dear. How about this.” She reached up the tie at the neckline of her own robes. “I’ll undress with you.”

“No!”

She raised an impish eyebrow at the girl. Seirios’s hands had flashed up to seize hold of her wrists. Her scowl was gone, replaced with alarm set on a rapidly reddening face. Her eyes, so wide open that the green was on full display, didn’t seem to know where to look. They met her own blue, jumped to their hands, slid to the smooth skin of her neck and the exposed notch of her neck, dared for a fraction of a second to take in what was lower, before her head snapped to the side.

“I-It’s fine. I’m fine.” She sputtered, withdrawing her hands as if they’d been burned. “I was just… surprised, is all. I’m not used to undressing in front of other people.”

As the ravenette turned her back to her and started pulling her robes off, she allowed herself a satisfied grin.

It was quickly lost.

Seirios’s ribs stood out, barely yet clearly, under her pale skin.

Malnutrition. When Healer Murphey had spoken the word, it had frozen her heart. The feeling hadn’t lessened when the healer had gone on to explain how Seirios was a case for the subclass of undernourishment. Not as severe. An amount of food that wasn’t enough instead of hardly any or none.

But still!

Such things did not happen in the wizarding world! Even the poorest among them, with magic at hand, could grow all the food they'd ever need with only moderate effort. And of those that did go hungry, never were they children. So few were their numbers, every single magical child counted.

The only explanation for how this was possible was, unfortunately, exactly what had happened. A magical child that, due to circumstance, had grown up cut off from the magical world and left to the mercy of muggles. Muggles who knew exactly what she was and hated her for it.

Yet someone had aided her. Murphey had pointed out how in the ravenettes younger years, her nutritional intake had improved dramatically, held for little under a year, only to drop for a few months’ time before jumping back up again. Little it was able to do about the damage done, it was at least able to prevent the worst from continuing.

But while it mirrored a magical school schedule, Seirios had made no mention of attending any such institution. A point that was reinforced with how her muggle caused injuries had happened during times she should have been away from them.

She might have thought Seirios was lying, but that didn’t make sense. Why lie about attending school?

On the other hand, it was undeniable the girl had some education. It wasn’t up to proper schooling levels, but neither was it of someone who’d been left to figure everything out on their own. It was too patchwork. Some magic Seirios already understood, while others that would have gone with it, she had no idea. She was comfortable with being a visitor in a magical community, but showed the ignorance of a person who’d not grown up in one.

It was a puzzle missing a piece. But having had a day to ponder it over, she’d realized what had happened.

A witch or wizard had stumbled across Serios as a child and taken it upon themselves to aid her. It would explain her diet, this mystery person supplementing her intake for most of the year, only to be pulled away by other commitments for several months before returning.

It also fit her education. Teaching was a skill, just as charms and transfiguration was. This person, even if they had been well educated themselves, had been found wanting when it came to successfully passing along what they knew.

And if this person was a wizard, it would explain her niece’s entirely boyish demeanor.

“Dear, why are you not wearing any of your bras? Do they not fit?”

The ravenette flinched and turned to her. She held her bundled up clothes before her chest awkwardly, less in the way of an instinctual desire to cover her breasts and more in the manner of someone who consciously recognized that was something they were supposed to do. “Oh, I, umm… Don’t really, well. You know, know how to use… one of them. So I just… left it in the bag with everything else.”

Definitely a wizard.

“That’s fine. We can go over that later. You can leave you clothes anywhere outside of the stone. Come over here and I’ll show you where you need to be.”

Seirios hesitated a moment before dropping the clothes where she stood and joining her at the base of the diagram. After a minute of instruction on the required position, her niece gingerly stepped into the square and laid down on her back in its exact center, muscles twitching as they come into contact with the cold, black wood that the diagram was drawn on and made up the interior of the square.

“Good, good. Now, I’m going to hand you this stone and you’re going to hold it as so.” From a box on the counter, she withdrew a foggy white gemstone the size and shape of a cricket ball and held it over her own navel, fingertips touching each other but only coming into contact with the stone around its sides, leaving - what would be for Seirios - the top of the stone exposed.

Handing the sphere over, she waiting for Seirios to mimic her display before speaking again. “Alright. We’re nearly there. I’m going to open the roof now.”

Withdrawing her wand, she tapped it on the platforms northern support beam. There were a few seconds wherein nothing happened before, with a great, groaning tearing sound, the roof directly above them opened like a flower going into bloom.

Her niece gasped, perhaps expecting to be hit by falling debris or showered in rain. But the only thing that came through the new opening was the cool night air, all the bits of roof staying attached as well as the rain just so happening to fall everywhere on the buildings top except for where there was now none. High above them, the dark clouds split like skin cut with a knife, spreading apart to reveal the twinkle of stars and a hint of moonlight.

From its place on Seirios’s middle, the moonstone took on a weak glow.

“There. All that’s left for us to do is wait.” She said, kneeling next to the squares side so she was as close to Seirios as possible.

“Why’s that?” The ravenette asked, apparently having come to conclusion that she now was required to move as little as possible, and looked to her aunt without turning her head.

“While everything is in its place, this isn’t a ritual we can activate. It will instead actuate on its own, when the moon is directly overhead and the diagram is taking in the moonlight directly. Hence, we are up here, and not in the basement ritual room.”

Seirios let out an annoyed huff from her nose, one that to her seemed less at them needing to wait and more at anyone needing further than one room dedicated ‘dark magic’ rituals.

She wondered what expression the girl would make when she learned exactly how many ritual rooms Grimmauld had hidden away and couldn’t help but grin.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “While there’s nothing left for us to do that’s required, it doesn’t hurt with many rituals to be as relaxed and as calm as possible. For that, how about I lead us through a breathing meditation, alright? Good. Now, close your eyes and follow my direction. Breath in… And breath out… Breath in… Breath out.”

She led her niece along for several minutes, watching that, as the young woman visibly relaxed, the moonstone glowed and dimmed, gradually coming into sync with Seirios's breathing.

When the stone appeared to be completely in tune with the ravenette, she stopped and looked her over. The rise and fall of her chest had taken on the slow and steady breathing of sleep, her arms having gone limp. They would have slipped onto the floor, if not for her fingertips remaining attached to the moonstone as if glued to it.

“Seirios?” She asked gently. “Have you fallen asleep on me?”

She received no answer, her niece having slipped under the moonstones sway and well on her way into deep rest.

Standing, she glanced at the sky. The moon still couldn’t be seen, though its glow was stronger.

Good. While this might be cutting it close, she still had time.

She stripped as quickly as quiet would allow before retrieving a paintbrush and a jar of blood. Stepping into the square, she knelt by the sleeping beauty’s side and went to work.

While there had been no lies, Seirios would undoubtedly by upset with her for not giving the entire truth.

But, as seen on the stairs, there was reason within the young woman.

She would understand.