December 1984
It was not often that Julius Parkinson donned his best robes, but
today was such an occasion that he would. Checking his reflection in
the mirror, he straightened them, and his gaze shifted to the
unmoving portrait of his late father.
Julius had not expected his time to ascend to the position of the
head of his family would come so early in his life, nor so suddenly.
His father had been a strong man, and intelligent to boot, so his
rather abrupt departure after a short illness had come as quite the
shock.
From since he had been but a boy, Julius had spent many hours at
his father's heel, watching how he conducted himself, learning the
ins and outs of the family businesses, but he had never
comprehended that there would be additional duties he knew nothing
of, things that had not been disclosed to him until he had been
summoned to his father's deathbed the previous year.
Flashback August 1983
According to the healer caring for him, Lord Thomas Parkinson was
not long for this world, and there was nothing that could be done
except to ensure he passed painlessly and comfortably as possible.
Julius had often envisioned the day his father would pass the mantel
of head of the Parkinson family onto him, but not as the man was
soon to breathe his last.
It had been retirement that Julius had expected, not the death of the
man he so adored.
Still, he knew what his responsibilities were, and they would begin
the moment his father was no longer with them.
Julius swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the thought
and released a deep breath before entering his father's private
chambers.
Never had he seen the man looking so frail, and as he seated
himself in the chair next to the bed, he took the man's hand.
"You sent for me, Father?"
Thomas nodded before a coughing fit took him.
"Water," he gasped.
Julius poured him a glass and helped him take a sip to cease the
coughing.
Thomas nodded gratefully and patted his son's hand.
"You're upset," he croaked.
Julius snorted humourlessly.
"You're dying."
Thomas nodded.
"All men must die, my son," he pointed out. "I did not wish for my
time to come so soon, but it will soon be here, and there are things
we must discuss."
He coughed once more and waved Julius off as he reached for the
glass of water.
"I know what my duties are," Julius assured him.
"You do," Thomas agreed, "and you have learned everything I have
to teach, but there are things you must be made aware of, things that
could be as dangerous as they are advantageous."
Julius frowned questioningly, wondering if his father's mind had been
weakened by his ailment.
No, his eyes, though heavy, were as sharp as they had ever been.
"During the war with Grindelwald, I was tasked with the overseeing
of the Black family affairs," Thomas whispered. "It was an honour to
do so, and because of it, I earned the trust and respect of Arcturus
Black."
Julius's eyes widened.
To be asked to fulfil such a role by any Lord was an honour, but there
was none higher than the Blacks, not a few decades ago, at least.
"Two years ago, I was asked to fulfil the same role," Thomas
continued.
"On behalf of Lucius's son?"
Thomas shook his head, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.
"No."
Julius frowned.
"But with Sirius in prison, Draco is the heir of the family," he pointed
out. "Lucius has taken much glee in bragging about it."
"Lucius is a fool who does not know what he speaks of," Thomas
muttered. "No, it is not Draco that will be the head of the family."
"Then who?"
Thomas met his son's gaze, his expression becoming stern.
"What I am to tell you is not to be spoke of with any other," he said
firmly. "I want your word that this will remain a family secret."
"You have it," Julius assured him without hesitation.
Thomas nodded satisfactorily.
"Before he was imprisoned, Sirius Black named his godson his heir,
and that boy will inherit the title upon reaching his majority."
"His godson."
"None other than Harry Potter."
Julius choked at the revelation.
"Potter?"
Thomas nodded severely.
"When he comes of age, he will be one of the most powerful and
influential men in the country," he explained. "I need not remind you
of his already envious fame. That coupled with the power of two
prominent families behind him means that he has the potential to be
one of the most influential men in the country, and we are currently in
a position to be in his good graces."
Julius nodded his understanding, though he had his concerns.
"So, what shall I do?"
"You will fulfil the role I accepted to look over the family matters on
his behalf, and ensure they remain profitable," Thomas informed
him, "for no other reason than it is an honour to do so, and that
Arcturus Black was a man I respected greatly. I would not see the
Black family squandered by us."
"And the Potter boy?"
"Should be afforded the respect of the positions he will one day
hold," Thomas instructed. "This is quite the opportunity for us, and I
would see that we keep the promises made."
"Understood," Julius assured his father.
"Good," Thomas sighed. "I'm sure you will have the opportunity to
meet the boy in the future, but you should know that he is being
raised by Cassiopeia Black."
Once more, Julius's eyes widened.
"Cassiopeia?" he gasped.
Thomas nodded.
"Now you understand the magnitude of your responsibilities to them.
Cassiopeia is a dangerous woman, and the Potter boy will be more
so when he is grown if she has a hand in his upbringing. Remember,
Julius, he has the blood of the Blacks and the Potters running
through his veins."
"Merlin, even if he was a squib, he could have most eating out of the
palm of his hand."
"He could," Julius agreed, "but remember, this is not merely about
what we can gain from this. It is about a promise to a man who I
considered a close friend. That is what you must bear in mind first
and foremost."
"I will, Father," Julius promised.
"Good, now let me rest boy," Thomas sighed.
End Flashback
Thomas Parkinson had passed away only a day after that
conversation, and the weight of the responsibility Julius had inherited
weighed heavily on his shoulders. Still, he had done as he had been
bid by his father and had ensured the continued growth of the Black
and Potter family wealth.
Today, at the behest of Cassiopeia Black, he would be meeting with
the woman for the first time.
He had written to her upon his father's death to inform her of his
ascension, and to ensure her that the Parkinson family would
continue to look out for her interests and would do so discreetly.
Cassiopeia's response to his letter had been terse, but not
unexpected.
Parkinson,
Give me no reason to regret my decision to seek your help, and you
may live to see old age.
CB
Julius had been nothing but beneficial to both additional families and
had invested wisely on their behalf.
Nonetheless, the letter inviting him to meet with her had been quite
the surprise.
Cassiopeia Black expected a report of what had been done over the
past few years, something Julius had prepared down to the very
finest detail.
"How do I look, Daddy?"
Julius smiled as Pansy entered his study.
She was wearing a green dress with a matching ribbon in her hair,
and she gave him a twirl that elicited a chuckle from the man who
bent down to pick her up.
"You look wonderful," he replied.
Pansy beamed at him, and Julius adjusted the bow in her dark hair.
"Now, you remember where we are going today?"
Pansy nodded; her light brown eyes widened in excitement.
"We are meeting a very important lady."
"Good."
"And it is a special secret," Pansy continued.
"Exactly," Julius praised. "What does that mean?"
"That only you, me, and Mummy can know."
Julius smiled once more before placing a kiss on his daughter's
cheek and placing her back on the ground.
"You're a smart girl, Pansy. Now, are you ready?"
Pansy nodded eagerly and Julius removed the portkey Cassiopeia
had delivered to him via their family elf.
"Remember, hold on tight."
Pansy rolled her eyes at him.
"I know, Daddy," she huffed.
With a snort of amusement, Julius activated the portkey, wondering
what kind of reception he would receive.
Regardless, this was an opportunity that Pansy should not miss out
on.
It would one day be important for her to make connections, and this
one could, as his father had explained, perhaps be the most
beneficial one available.
Cassie had intended to take Moon's advice by allowing Elgar to raise
Harry during his early years. She'd never been a maternal woman,
never had the urge to have children of her own, not even when her
younger siblings had been born.
Her interest in them had been minimal, nothing more than a curious
glance at their faces as their mother held them.
Beyond that, she had mostly ignored Arcturus and Dorea until they
could speak.
Little Harry, however, had not made such a thing possible.
The morning after she has fetched him from the muggles, she had
entered the kitchen to find the elf feeding the boy in a highchair, and
not having the easiest time in doing so.
Harry had porridge smeared over his cheeks and had been giggling
as Elgar patiently tried to feed him, but as the boy noticed
Cassiopeia, he had looked up at her with those brilliant green eyes
of his.
Cassie had never seen such a shade.
They almost glowed like gently flickering flames, and the expression
of curiosity was not one she could easily be so dismissive of. What
she did know was that they were not inherited from the Potters.
Both William and Charlus had brown eyes, and she was certain that
James did too.
Harry must have gotten his from his mother.
Still, she didn't know what to do with a baby and had merely smiled
awkwardly at him before fixing her own breakfast.
For the first week, she barely saw Harry, and continued living her life
the way she had been for the past several decades, but she should
have known better to believe that things could progress so smoothly.
The first indication she got that something wasn't right came in the
middle of the eighth night he had been with her.
Cassie had been woken in the early hours to the sound of
whimpering coming from the adjoining room she had allocated to the
boy, a more appropriate place for the future lord of two houses to
sleep.
The thought of him being left in a cupboard still angered her, and the
urge to throttle his relatives had yet to abate.
With a sigh, she had left her own room and entered his to find a
worried Elgar holding the seemingly sleeping boy to his chest.
"Is he sick?"
"No, Miss Black," Elgar whispered. "He is having bad dreams."
Cassiopeia frowned.
What kind of baby had bad dreams?
Still, Harry whimpered pitifully, and continued to do so when his eyes
shot open a moment later.
There was a fear within them, a fear that did not belong on the face
of a babe.
"Elgar doesn't know what to do, Miss," the elf murmured. "He wakes
like this every night."
Cassiopeia released a deep breath as she approached, and Harry
looked up at her almost pleadingly.
To this day, Cassie didn't know why she had done it, and often
whished she hadn't, but with a gentle probe of legilimency, she saw
what it was that haunted the boy.
She would never forget seeing the redheaded woman pleading for
Harry's life nor the mocking laughter of the Dark Lord as he
murdered her in front of her infant son before turning his wand on the
boy.
The killing curse.
Cassie had been sceptical of the veracity of the claims that Harry
had somehow survived it, but having seen the memory of the boy for
herself, she no longer doubted the truth.
For Harry to remember it so vividly…
It was something that would haunt him for the rest of his days,
something that would undoubtedly play a part in shaping him as he
grew.
"Oh, you poor boy," she had choked as she took him from Elgar's
arms and held him clumsily in her own. "He remembers it."
Elgar had nodded in response.
"He does, Miss," he whispered, "and the scar will always remind
him."
"Scar?"
Elgar gently moved Harry's fringe away, revealing the red, puckered
mark that marred his skin.
"That is where the curse hit him." the elf explained. "Very bad magic,
Miss. Very, very bad."
Cassiopeia swallowed deeply as she rocked the boy in her arms.
Harry's dreams had continued throughout the years since, but they
had eventually become less common. Though he never spoke of
them, not even now at the age of four, but other than the occasional
night he needed to be comforted, he had proven to be resilient.
He would need to be.
He was proving to be quite the curious child too, always asking
questions to the point that the incessant pestering annoyed Cassie,
something that Harry seemed to get a kick out of.
There was undoubtedly a mischievous side to him, the victorious grin
he wore when he got a rise out of her, however, was still preferable
to the broken child she still sometimes saw in the small hours of the
night.
Harry was becoming quite the character, and Cassie had no doubt
that he would get into more than his fair share of trouble in the years
to come.
"Merlin help me," she murmured as she watched him playing with
some of his toys in front of the fireplace.
Despite everything, Cassie was happy with how he was progressing.
Harry already had a deep interest in magic, and always watched with
interest whenever she used her wand, even for the inanest things,
almost as though he was trying to work out how she was doing what
she was.
It was amusing to see his little face scrunch up in concentration, and
how he would pout when she put her wand away.
"Harry, Lord Parkinson will be arriving shortly," she announced.
Harry only nodded in response as he set a dragon upon a score of
knights, cheering as the figures ran from the beast.
Cassiopeia snorted as she shook her head.
He loved his toy dragon.
It had been a gift from Gellert for his previous birthday.
Not that Harry knew that, of course.
Cassiopeia had not mentioned the man to him but had kept Gellert
abreast of all that had happened with the boy since his arrival.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the arrival of Elgar who offered
her a low bow, his gaze shifting briefly towards Harry before he
spoke.
The elf had grown very fond and protective of his charge.
"Miss Black, Lord Parkinson has arrived at the front gate."
"Show him in, please, Elgar."
The elf offered her another bow before disappearing with a gentle
crack.
The death of the previous Lord Parkinson had come unexpectedly,
and Cassiopeia had been wary about the man's son taking over
Harry's interests.
She had never met the man in any capacity, and didn't know how
much he could be trusted, but he had written to her and assured her
the arrangement would continue as it had.
Cassie had been reluctant, but without bringing another in on her
secret, there was little else that could be done.
She had given Parkinson the benefit of the doubt and knew she
would have to make his acquaintance in person. For more than a
year, she had put it off, but she could do so no longer.
So long as the Potter and Black family interests were being cared for
suitably, she saw no reason to end the arrangement.
Cassie took a seat in a nearby armchair, and watched as a tall, welldressed,
and groomed man entered with a girl no older than Harry.
He had chestnut brown hair, and matching, intelligent eyes.
His features were sharp, but not offensively slow, and he gave her a
shallow bow.
The smile Lord Parkinson offered was reserved, but not insincere, a
gesture Cassiopeia appreciated.
Parkinson was not here to attempt to flatter, nor charm her with
flowery words, but he understood his position, the privilege he had
inherited.
"Miss Black, it is nice to finally meet you."
"And you, Lord Parkinson," Cassiopeia replied in kind.
Parkinson chuckled.
"I suppose this is quite pivotal moment for both of us. You are unsure
if you can trust me the same way your brother trusted my father, and
I am still unsure if I am able to assist you as well. Though I daresay, I
think I have done a fair job since taking over," he spoke, removing
two folders from within his robes and handing them over.
Cassiopeia accepted them and opened the first.
"I do not wish to be condescending, Miss Black, but I took the liberty
of creating a simple breakdown of what I have done this past year."
Cassie nodded appreciatively as she read the figures of the Black
account.
Parkinson had indeed done well.
The businesses the Blacks had invested in over the years were still
profitable, and those that weren't had been sold off before they had
lost any gold of note.
The Potter accounts were doing similarly well, though it was clear
there was a period of time they had not been looked after well.
Still, Cassiopeia had never known how wealthy the family was, and it
proved to be considerably more than she had anticipated.
"You are doing well," she commented.
Parkinson deflated, relieved that she was content.
"Thank you," he replied. "It has been quite a daunting period after
losing my father."
Cassiopeia nodded her understanding.
Thomas Parkinson had not been so old that it wasn't out of the
question that he could have lived for a few more decades at least.
"I see no reason why the arrangement cannot continue," she
decided. "You can continue to claim 5% of profits made from both
families as compensation."
"And our business will remain firmly between our families,"
Parkinson assured her. "I, like my father, am a man of my word."
Cassiopeia had heard the man's words, but her gaze had shifted
towards Harry, and Parkinson's daughter who had joined him in front
of the fireplace.
She watched curiously how they interacted.
Harry had not socialised with any other children thus far from fear
that he would be recognised.
Cassiopeia knew that it was unlikely in Greece, but she did not wish
to take any risks.
The two children seemed to be interacting well enough, and the girl
was even laughing at something Harry said.
"He is quite the boy, isn't he?" Parkinson questioned as he too
watched them. "Even now, a week barely passes without the media
mentioning him, wondering where he is."
Cassiopeia frowned at the revelation.
She didn't like anyone taking too much interest in Harry.
"Are those that supported him still looking for Harry?" she asked
bluntly.
Parkinson swallowed deeply.
"I don't know, I do not associate with them much outside of the
Wizengamot or functions I am required to attend, but I would assume
they are. The boy inadvertently caused more problems than you can
understand and has enemies."
Cassiopeia nodded.
"If by some chance you hear anything, Parkinson, I would suggest
that you remember what Harry will one day be. He may be a boy
now, but he won't be forever, and if he decides to return to Britain, I
will ensure he does so with every possible resource to bring any that
would wish him harm to their knees. He will be a man to be feared
and respected."
Parkinson became pensive for a moment before nodding
thoughtfully.
"I do not doubt you," he replied.
"Good. Now, would you and your daughter like to join us for lunch?"
she asked. "I would not send a guest away without refreshments."
Lord Parkinson looked towards his daughter who had joined in
playing with Harry before nodding.
"Pansy and I would be honoured."
It was an opportunity for Cassie to continue watching Harry and how
he interacted with others.
It would be an important skill for the boy, after all.
It also gave her the chance to question Lord Parkinson further, to get
to know the man and perhaps his experiences in parenting.
Even after almost three years of raising Harry, Cassie felt as though
she was out of her depth.
She knew nothing of children except her experiences with the
Potter/Black heir.
"Harry, Lord Parkinson has agreed to join us for lunch. Go and wash
your hands."
"You too, Pansy," Lord Parkinson instructed. "I'm sure Harry can
show you the way."
The two children left the room, both smiling with Pansy chasing after
the energetic boy.
"It makes me feel old just watching them," Parkinson sighed
amusedly.
Cassiopeia hummed.
"Harry is a good boy," she declared.
"Even after everything he went through?"
Cassiopeia nodded.
"Despite everything, he is one of the good ones."
Parkinson looked at her questioningly, but thought better than to pry.
The children returned only a moment after the two had taken their
seats, breathless from running through the corridors of the house.
Harry's robes were soaked, and Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow in his
direction.
"I made a mess," he murmured.
Pansy rolled her eyes.
"I splashed him," she declared. "Only because he was going to do it
to me."
"I was not," Harry denied. "Well, maybe a little bit."
Pansy grinned victoriously, and Lord Parkinson shook his head.
"Perhaps you should both sit, and then the urge to throw water at
one another will be quelled," he suggested.
The children smirked sheepishly at each other before doing so, and
Cassie watched them as they put their heads together and began
talking animatedly.
It was as though they had been friends for years, and she felt a pang
of guilt for isolating him from the world, but it was for his own safety.
"How old was Pansy when she had her first bout of accidental
magic?" Cassiopeia asked Lord Parkinson curiously.
"Just before she turned three," the man answered proudly. "Her
mother's hair was orange for a week. What about Harry?"
"Around the same age," Cassiopeia lied before taking a mouthful of
soup Elgar had served them.
Harry had only been with her a month before his magic had begun
manifesting, and, seemed to become more volatile when he was
experienced heightened emotions in the middle of the night.
Cassie had lost count of how many times she'd had to repair things
in his room.
"Was it just the hair?"
Parkinson chuckled as he shook his head.
"We've had plates of vegetables banished across the room, and
even a cat being levitated after it tried to run away," he explained.
If only Cassiopeia had to deal with such simple incidents.
Along with his tendency to destroy things, Harry had somehow
managed to summon things from across the room several times, and
even heat it up considerably when Cassiopeia had forgotten to add
more wood to his fire.
The most impressive feat of magic, however, had been when he'd
set fire to a nest of hornets in the garden after one of them had stung
him.
Not that she would mention such things to the man she was sharing
lunch with.
It was not something he needed to know, though it did make
Cassiopeia question just how normal these bouts of accidental
magic were.
Perhaps she would discuss them with Gellert?
She was due to visit him and hadn't done so since he had presented
her with Harry's birthday gift.
They had not parted on the best of terms when Gellert had refused
to share his ever-developing plans for Harry with her, but it wasn't
the first time they had fallen out, and nor would it be the last.
"He looks very much like his father," Lord Parkinson commented,
pulling Cassiopeia from her thoughts. "The eyes are definitely his
mother's."
"The redhead mudblood?"
"Lily Evans," Parkinson confirmed. "She was a very gifted witch. I
suppose that is why Charlus Potter agreed to allow his son to marry
her."
Cassiopeia frowned.
She had pondered why Charlus would break tradition, and her sister
even more so.
Dorea may have been more tolerant than the rest of the family, but
she was still a Black, a traditionalist at heart.
"You knew her?"
"Not as such," Parkinson denied, "but my generation knew of her,
even more so now. There are rumours that she found a protection
against the killing curse."
It was something else that Cassiopeia had spent time thinking about.
Just how had Harry survived the killing curse?
She knew that Dumbledore undoubtedly had a theory, but she had
heard nothing from the man since the night they had retrieved Harry.
"What do you think?" she asked.
Parkinson shook his head.
"I wouldn't even wish to speculate," he sighed. "It is fantastical
enough to believe without the added headache of questioning how."
Cassiopeia agreed wholeheartedly with the man, but she was still
determined to uncover the truth.
If Lily Potter had managed to discover such a protection, she must
have been certain of it to have enough faith that it would protect her
son.
' No, not Harry…'
The final plea of a desperate mother sent a shiver down her spine as
it always did whenever Cassie thought of it.
There was no denying that Lily Potter loved her son, and it saddened
Cassiopeia to think that Harry would never know his parents.
The boy had never even asked about them, the dreams that haunted
him evidently enough of an explanation.
It was something Cassie was grateful for, but sometimes, she wished
he would ask for the sake of closure.
"Can we play in the garden, Aunt Cass?" Harry asked, breaking into
her thoughts.
Cassiopeia offered the boy a smile and nodded.
"Stay away from the cliffs," she warned, "and out of the broom shed.
I do not think Lord Parkinson will be pleased to find Pansy in the air."
"Yes, Aunt Cassie," Harry sighed before leading the girl from the
room.
"He flies already?" Parkinson asked.
"I wish he wouldn't," Cassie huffed, "but it makes him happy, and
he's a natural."
Parkinson chuckled.
"I suppose he gets that from his father," he mused aloud. "There
were rumours that James Potter had been approached to play
Quidditch professionally. If it wasn't for the war, he probably would
have played for England. I remember him at Hogwarts. He was an
excellent flier."
"Did you know him?"
Parkinson shook his head.
"No, he was a Gryffindor and a few years younger than me," he
explained. "I remember Lucius complaining about playing against
him. McGonagall used to gush at how gifted he was at
transfiguration."
Cassiopeia hummed thoughtfully.
"What about Harry's mother?"
"Well, she spent a lot of time with Slughorn, so I suppose she was
quite brilliant at potions if he took so much interest in her, but if I'm
remembering correctly, she was more interested in charms."
Cassiopeia appreciated the information.
Although James Potter was her nephew, she knew nothing about
him. Her existence had been an isolated one, so her knowledge on
those back home was sorely lacking, something she would need to
rectify in the years to come.
"I think we should perhaps check on them," Cassiopeia sighed.
"Harry has quite the mischievous side to him when he's in the
mood."
"All boys do," Parkinson pointed out as he stood to follow.
"Oh, no, Harry is exceptionally cheeky when he feels the need to be.
Just ask Elgar what the boy did to his apron when he refused him
extra dessert."
"Master is a naughty boy," Elgar muttered, though a smile tugged at
his lips as he cleared away the plate and bowls.
Parkinson had an expression of curiosity, but he didn't press the
matter, and followed Cassie as she headed towards the back door.
"They seem to be quite taken with each other," he commented when
he spotted Harry and Pansy hunched by one of the bushes.
Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at the man.
"I do hope that you're not cementing an early intention for a marriage
contract, Lord Parkinson."
The man held up his hands placatingly as he chuckled.
"I know my place in our society, Miss Black," he assured her. "For my
daughter to marry into either the Potter or Black family would be
more than I could ever expect for her, let alone the Lord of both. No,
I was merely pointing out that they seem to be getting on."
Cassie deflated as she nodded.
"They are," she conceded. "Harry doesn't get to mix with others, for
his safety."
Parkinson nodded his understanding.
"I would be equally cautious if I were in your position," he explained,
"though your reputation is still rather formidable back home. Even if it
was known he was here with you, very few would be foolish enough
to try anything."
"My reputation would only ever go so far to protect him," Cassie
pointed out. "It will have to be Harry they respect, and they will, Lord
Parkinson. By the time I am done with him, he will be more than
capable of putting anyone in their place."
"I do not doubt it," Parkinson replied with a bow.
Cassiopeia nodded, pleased that the man had gotten the message
before turning her attention to her charge.
"What are you doing, Harry?" she questioned as she approached the
children.
"Harry is talking to the snake!" Pansy explained excitedly.
"Talking to the snake?" Cassiopeia asked confusedly, her mouth
falling agape and her heart sinking as she came upon them.
Harry indeed had a brown snake with black markings down its spine
wrapped around his arm and the flat head resting on his bicep.
Even more shocking, however, was that the boy was hissing gently,
and the creature was seemingly listening to him.
"Harry, put the snake down," Cassiopeia gasped as she drew her
wand.
"No, Aunt Cass, he's friendly," Harry protested. "He just wants
something to eat."
Cassiopeia swallowed deeply.
"Can you understand it?"
Harry nodded as he smiled brightly.
"He says that he's been living in our garden since he hatched."
Much to Cassie's surprise, the snake actually nodded at her, her
gaze shifted to Lord Parkinson who was in a similar state of disbelief
as her.
"Okay, Harry, put the snake back," she instructed calmly. "You can
visit him again later."
"Fine," Harry conceded grumpily, placing the hissing snake back in
the bush.
"Now, go and wash your hands. Merlin knows what germs he has on
him."
"You too, Pansy," Lord Parkinson added.
The children left, both seemingly unaware of the magnitude of what
had happened.
"He's a parselmouth," Parkinson murmured. "How is that possible?"
"I don't know," Cassie replied, her mind drifting to the only other
known parselmouth who had been in Harry's life.
She had been learning what she could about Voldemort over the
past couple of years, and though there was little information readily
available, the man had publicly claimed to be the heir of Slytherin
and a known, prolific parselmouth.
"Is it possible Lily Evans was related to Slytherin?" Parkinson
questioned.
"She was a mudblood," Cassie pointed out, "but there is always a
chance."
She didn't believe for one moment that Lily Potter was a relative of
the Slytherin family and was more inclined to believe that Harry
came about his ability via what transpired the night Voldemort had
come for the Potters.
"I would urge you to keep this information quiet," Parkinson spoke
urgently. "You-Know-Who was one, and the reputation has only
suffered more over the years he was around. I will, of course, say
nothing of what I saw, and neither will Pansy."
Cassiopeia nodded gratefully.
"Your discretion on the matter is appreciated, Lord Parkinson."
"Julius," the man corrected. "If I am to oversee the affairs of both
families, you may call me Julius. For now, I will continue with my
work, and I must say, I look forward to seeing the boy grow and what
he will become. Pansy, it is time for us to leave," he declared as the
children returned. "Say your goodbyes. I'm sure Miss Black will allow
you to visit again."
Both children looked hopefully at her, and with a nod, they wore
matching smiles as Lord Parkinson took his daughter by the arm and
activated a portkey that would take them home.
Suddenly, the urge to see Gellert had become pressing, the latest
development with Harry having unsettled the woman, and yet, the
innocence of the smile he wore brought her a semblance of comfort,
despite the trepidation she felt.
Gellert was tending to his birds when he heard the familiar footfalls
of one of his visitors, though the pace of them was much more frantic
than usual. Placing the little thrush in its cage, he turned to be
greeted by the sight of a pale Cassiopeia, her worried expression
causing him to frown.
"He's a parselmouth, Gellert," the woman whispered.
"Who is?"
"Harry!"
"I see," Gellert murmured. "The Potters have never married into the
Slytherin line?"
Cassiopeia shook her head.
"His mother, perhaps?"
"No, she was a mudblood."
Gellert tutted.
"I do not believe Harry will appreciate you referring to his mother as
such," he chided. "Just because you believe she was a muggleborn,
it doesn't make it so. It is possible that a member of the Slytherin
family had a child that no scholar knows of. Albus investigated them
thoroughly enough, what was her name?"
"Evans."
"Evans," Gellert murmured. "I feel that I should know the name, but
its meaning escapes me."
"He didn't get it from his parents!" Cassiopeia snapped. "It came
from him, didn't it? He somehow infected Harry with his magic."
Gellert shook his head.
"No, magic does not work that way," he mused aloud. "Any of
Voldemort's magic should have been purged from Harry's system by
his own. If Harry did indeed inherit the ability from him, then
something else must have occurred that night."
"What?" Cassiopeia asked desperately.
"I do not know," Gellert admitted, "but I will ponder it. I expect I will
have an explanation in due course."
"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"Nothing," Gellert answered. "So long as Harry is happy and healthy,
then I do not believe you need to be alarmed. If it were something so
serious to him, I believe it would have manifested itself by now."
Cassiopeia seemed to be comforted by his words and deflated.
"How is the boy, other than the latest development?"
The question brought a rare smile to Cassiopeia's lips, and Gellert
smirked too.
She had come to care for the boy, though she would likely deny it if
he mentioned such.
"He's quite brilliant," Cassiopeia praised. "He's inquisitive and
interested in magic."
"Excellent," Gellert declared.
"And he really loves the dragon you made for him," she continued.
"He uses it to attack his other toys and they have to try to fend off the
marauding beast."
Gellert chuckled amusedly.
"I did not expect him to get so much joy from such a simple thing."
Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at him.
"Only you would call that magic simple."
"Magic?" Gellert questioned confusedly.
Cassiopeia nodded.
"It's so life-like the way it flies around," she explained. "It even flies
above him when he is sleeping at night. Harry says it helps keep the
bad dreams away."
"Cass, the dragon I gave you was nothing more than a piece of
wood I carved. I do not have the means to animate or enchant
anything."
"But it flies," Cassiopeia said dumbly. "It even roars and sits on his
shoulder. Could Harry have done it by accident?"
Gellert shook his head.
"Accidental magic is a sudden occurrence, a short burst of
unrestrained power that has an unpredictable effect. What you're
describing is quite an intricate animation at the very least. Maybe the
elf?"
"No," Cassiopeia denied quietly. "Elgar didn't touch it. It came to life
the moment Harry did."
Gellert sunk into his chair.
No, it couldn't be possible that the boy had done it at such a young
age, but there was no other explanation. If the elf didn't do it, it must
have been Harry.
Gellert chuckled to himself out of the excitement and curiosity he felt.
"I think it is something you should discuss with the boy," he declared.
"Ask him just how he managed it."
"You truly believe it was Harry?"
Gellert nodded.
"I think it is a distinct possibility," Gellert replied. "Now, leave me to
my thoughts. You have given me much to consider."
Cassiopeia said nothing else as she did as she was bid and Gellert
simply shook his head.
The parseltongue ability had raised many questions, and what Harry
had seemingly done with the dragon only added more.
Gellert faced quite the conundrum indeed, but he had meant what
he'd said to his former protégé.
He had no doubt that he would figure it out, but what he'd learned
was unheard of.
Such a magical feat at such an early age certainly meant that the
boy was possibly exceedingly talented, but Gellert could not ignore
the thought that the inherited ability he shared with his parent's
murderer was quite troubling indeed.