Brave New World

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Chapter Seventeen



The storage box wasn’t as large as his school trunk but the things it held were infinitely more important to Harry. It was bound in the skin of a Chinese fireball, a worn scarlet dragon hide that looked as if it had passed through many generations of Potters before finally being delivered into his care. On the lid was the Potter coat of arms, a classic shaped shield of sable with crimson and white trimming with the family name beneath it in a bold old English script also in sable.



The family motto was carefully printed over the shield while two griffins reared proudly on either side. It had brought him such honor to hear the words his house held in such regard and tried to live their lives by. For the one thing he had wished for all of his life was the one thing his house held in reverence. Family. He ran his fingers over the three interlocking annulets above a sword crossed with a wand that were the Potter heraldic symbols making a solemn vow to try to live up to the trust that had been placed in his hands.



“Familia fideles defendit,” he murmured tapping his wand to the lock and heard three distinctive snaps before the lid cracked open for him. The top tray held two smaller boxes which opened to the same trigger. Inside the first was a crystal wand similar to the one he gave Hermione for her birthday. It was made of moonstone, its pearly sheen protected by an ornate mythril handle with a ball of onyx on the end.



The other box held a mythril anthame, the handle bound in the same fireball hide the box was covered in. Harry slipped the dagger from its matching sheath, allowing the light to gleam off the sharp edge. He knew crystal wands were used in more complex and intimate rituals and charms but this dagger had the feel of combat to it. He could feel the magic residue from spells being cast through it. He had no idea magic could be focused through an object other than a wand but the metal itself was probably the conduit.



The Potter house must have a much respected relationship with the goblins to have been gifted with such complex and beautiful works as these.



Eager to see what else remained in the box, he lifted the tray to reveal another and had to wonder just how deep this box went. This time a hide covered book box was discovered, which he opened to find a black hide covered book. His family name was printed on the cover in old English. He didn’t need a password for the moment his hand touched the book, its pages began to shuffle wildly.



“Welcome young Lord to the family Grimoire. The knowledge bound between these pages is to be used in service to the Divine. Keep well to our dictums. Keep our secrets. And may your life be blessed. So mote it be.”



Before he could investigate further, the door was flung open by an eager faced Ron. His eyes widened comically upon seeing him sitting on the bed. “Hermione, he’s up here!”



The sounds of footsteps rushing up the staircase was followed by not only Hermione but Neville, Dean, Seamus and even Ginny. As Hermione stopped in the door way, it was rather humorous as the rest all crowded behind her trying to see beyond where she was blocking their view. By the time Hermione finally stepped out of the way and allowed the others to enter, Harry was barely holding back a snort of laughter.



“Harry! Where have you been! You’ll never guess what happened at dinner!”



“My Great uncle arrived,” he answered calmly, enjoying the shocked expressions on their faces as he ruined their big news.



“How did you-”



“Professor McGonagall told me. Dumbledore put him in the guest quarters for the night and I’m to have breakfast with him in the morning. McGonagall gave me an excused absence for the day as well but I think I’ll be able to make my afternoon classes.”



It shouldn’t take that long to figure out why his long lost relative hadn’t tried to see him in the past fifteen years. Harry couldn’t account for the first year and a half of his life, seeing as he didn’t remember them. Judging from his track record, Harry knew Dumbledore played a role but he still wanted to hear what this Lord Roarke had to say in his own defense before he passed judgment.



“Hey, mate, what’s with the clothes?”



Ron’s question had Harry glancing down as he remembered he hadn’t taken off the clothes he’d borrowed from Neville yet. “I had a meeting with Gringotts this afternoon. Neville was kind enough to allow me to snitch a few of his things.”



“Looking good, my Lord,” Seamus snickered, wiggling his brows.



“The entire school’s talking about it, Harry. Especially with the big scene your great uncle caused,” Dean explained, sitting down on his bed so he wouldn’t miss a word.



“Did everything go well with the goblins?” Neville asked, more concerned with how Harry was feeling than the gossip.



“As well as can be expected. I figure for the next five years I’m going to be swamped in ledgers and parchment trying to keep the estate and all the people depending on me from starving. It helps that Colfax is a business genius, has the patience of a saint and is willing to teach me the things I should have been learning years ago.”



Ron had no comment but Harry watched him very carefully for his reaction. It was better than he expected really. Ron hadn’t said a degrading word about him having money but he was staring at the Potter ring on his finger. Ginny on the other hand was already crossing the room, her hand reaching out toward the open boxes on his bed.



“What’s this anyway?”



“Things from the Potter estate,” Harry hurriedly explained, closing the boxes for the anthame and the wand and setting them inside the tray. She glared at him, folding her arms across her chest and Harry barely restrained a grimace as he recalled the same posture on her mother early that evening. It was easy to ignore her because none of it was her business anyway.



“And why can’t we see,” Ginny demanded, instead of backing off as she should have. He had to wonder where she got this sense of entitlement from. Yes, Ron was his best friend but that didn’t mean she could demand explanations from him whenever she liked.



Judging from the elder Weasleys\' reactions to him at dinner, and Ron and Ginny’s at Hermione’s birthday, he might have to rethink his associations with the Weasley family if they were going to try to impose their beliefs upon him. Bill looked like he had enough issues between his mother and Fleur to worry about Harry and Charlie was in Romania with his dragons so Harry didn’t know what he thought. The only ones he had yet to hear from were the twins and while devoted to their family, he couldn’t honestly see them trying to force Harry to do anything he didn’t want. It just didn’t fit in with their character.



“Because it’s my family Ginny and it’s rather personal. I won’t be sharing this with anyone.”



“But we’re your friends, you should be able to share it with us,” Ginny insisted.



“Ginny, really,” Hermione stepped forward to nudge the persistent redhead aside. “These are things from Harry’s family. If he doesn’t feel comfortable sharing them with us, he doesn’t have to.”



Even though it seemed she was taking his side, Harry couldn’t help hearing the underlying message that he didn’t trust them enough, so therefore he was at fault. It wasn’t worth the quarrel to respond, so he simply packed up the boxes into the larger storage container and sealed it before anyone could offer further argument.



“So where were you tonight anyway?” Ron asked as he made his way across the room to sit on his own bed.



“I had some things to take care of with Dumbledore.” It wasn’t that Seamus and Dean couldn’t be trusted, merely they weren’t supposed to know about the Order. “That’s where I saw McGonagall and she told me about my great uncle.”



“I still can’t believe it Harry. After all these years you actually have family and not those muggle relatives of yours either. I wonder where he’s been all this time though,” Ron shrugged having asked aloud what Harry had been mentally contemplating only moments before.



His stomach decided to make itself known with a loud gurgle causing everyone to laugh at him. He had intended to get something to eat before he left the Order meeting seeing as his dinner had been ruined but he had been so disgusted with the adults who were supposed to be the major force against Voldemort he had left with Septima when she decided to return to Hogwarts instead.



“I can ask Whimsy to bring you something Harry,” Neville offered but he just shook his head. Better to get this out of the way now.



“Hobbes,” he snapped his fingers, which brought on several things at once. Ron and Ginny gasped, Hermione’s face was a cross between astonishment and growing anger and of course his valet popped into the room.



“How may I help you Master Harry?” The intelligent little elf bowed before clasping his hands behind his back.



“Harry! You just summoned that house elf!”



“Yes, I did Hermione,” he said really slowly as if talking to a small child. It was pretty obvious he had called the house elf, wasn’t it. “Hobbes, how are you settling in at the castle?”



“Its operation is quite different from Griffin Keep, my Lord, but the others have been very welcoming.”



“Good. You know you’re welcome to return to the Keep to visit whenever you’re missing your family, Hobbes.”



“I shall be fine, Master Harry. I’ve been preparing for this time with you for many years.”



“If you’re certain,” Harry asked and the little elf nodded once, so Harry decided to leave the matter for the moment. He intended to travel to the Keep during winter break anyway. “Hobbes, I missed dinner this evening and I’m actually starving now. As it’s so late, I really don’t want to eat anything heavy, do you have any suggestions?”



“How about a bowl of soup, my Lord, and perhaps a small fruit salad.”



“Does it have vegetables in it? Leo’s going to kill me; I haven’t been following my dietary guidelines lately, so I should try to get back on track with that.”



“I can bring a light beef and vegetable soup if you prefer.”



“Yes, please, that sounds great actually. And I’ll need a glass of milk as well, not pumpkin juice. Thank you Hobbes.” With another one of those bows, Hobbes snapped his fingers and disappeared leaving him to face the considerable wrath of one Hermione Granger.



“Would you mind telling me Harry, why you have a house elf! You know that they’re little more than slaves!”



“The house elves in service to my family are there voluntarily Hermione.”



“You have more than one!”



“Each of them has been offered their freedom. They all receive a uniform, an education and work for room and board at the keep and receive a mutually agreed upon stipend each month,” he told her trying to keep the situation under control. “You saw Hobbes, Hermione. Did he look abused or mistreated? Or even unhappy?”



“He called you Master.”



“As most servants address their employers, both human and house elf, especially of the Ancient and Noble Houses,” Neville added in his defense. “It’s a sign of respect, not degradation. You really should know better. Harry would never consent to owning anyone and the Potter Lords have fought against the mistreatment of magical creatures for many years. Jumping to conclusions is an insult to someone who is supposed to be your best friend.”



“What I want to know is how Harry gets his own house elf,” Seamus asked.



“All the Lords of the Ancient and Noble Houses are allowed a valet,” Ginny answered before either he or Neville had the chance. “I’m just surprised to see Harry falling in with this pureblood stuff. He almost looked like Malfoy, snapping his fingers and commanding house elves.”



“And just how do you know that?” Dean wondered of his ex-girlfriend, choosing to ignore the rest of her diatribe about Harry.



“My family is pureblooded, regardless of the rubbish Malfoy spouts about us, we do know the Wizarding traditions.”



“Just not the old ways,” Harry couldn’t help but pointing out. He knew it would cause an argument but he was getting tired of Ginny at this point.



“Exactly,” she agreed as if he was complimenting her, missing the sarcasm entirely or choosing to pretend she had. “Seeing as Harry has decided to join the ranks of the Malfoys, enslaving house elves was just the next step. He’ll be marking his followers in no time.”



“I think you should leave now,” Neville suggested in a tone of voice that had the others in the room staring back at him in surprise and appreciation. He held his hand in a manner where his heir’s ring could be clearly seen. Not only had Ginny insulted him but all of the Ancient and Noble houses, of which the Longbottoms were a member.



“Neville, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she immediately tried to apologize.



“You’ve said more than enough about the Ancient and Noble houses, purebloods and the old ways. Thrice insulted, I am. As you have no idea what you’ve done, I’m not surprised you would speak with such ignorance. And if I were a less understanding person, I would call you and your kin accountable.”



No one ever believed Neville Longbottom to be a powerful wizard, but Harry knew better. Back in the Department of Mysteries, the two of them had been the last standing in their face off with the Death Eaters. Despite his fears, Neville had the strength of will to stand for what he believed in and persevere through spite and ridicule. That only proved why he had been the other child who the prophecy could have been made for.



It was clear now he was not a wizard to be underestimated any longer.



“I’m sorry.” Ginny murmured, glancing around at the faces holding disapproval at her actions. When she realized no one was going to take her side, not even Ron, she stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.



Dean was the first to look guilty, so he stood from the bed and gestured to where the humiliated redhead had stormed off. “I’m going to go see if she’s okay.”



“I’ll go with you, mate,” Seamus offered joining his best friend so they could catch Ginny before she made it up the stairs to the girls’ dorms.



Hobbes chose that moment to return with his light meal. The tray held a serving of stew rich with herbs and vegetables like carrots, parsnips and tender pieces of braised beef. A large Parker House roll accompanied it, along with an avocado, grapefruit and melon salad covered in a light mint dressing. After thanking Hobbes, his friends gave him a few minutes of eating before curiosity beset them.



“So what happened tonight at the meeting, Harry?” Hermione asked, eager to hear the details of the meetings they had wanted to attend all last year. “That’s where you were right?”



“Yes,” he relented tearing a large bite out of the roll, groaning at the light taste. “And nothing much happened really. They spent so much time arguing over stupid things that there wasn’t much accomplished.”



“What were they arguing over?” Neville asked, sitting down on the bed across from him.



“Whether or not I should be allowed to attend. If I had a right to voice my opinions. How a child like me could possibly know about War.” Harry rolled his eyes, getting angry all over again at the memory of so many people doubting him and casting him aside as if he didn’t matter. When in the next moment they would be expecting him to save them from the man whose name they couldn’t even bear to hear, let alone speak.



“That’s stupid,” Ron shook his head. “You’ve faced Voldemort at least five times and lived to tell, none of them can say the same.”



“I didn’t expect them to treat me like Dumbledore but I thought I was at least entitled to some respect regardless. I’m not even sure what they think of me. Am I the boy-who-lived? The Chosen One like the Daily Prophet likes to claim? The arrogant brat Snape decrees me? A child who should leave the war to the so called capable adults and not get anymore people killed?”



“Oh, Harry. You mustn’t think like that,” Hermione sighed in commiseration.



“At this point, ‘Mione, I don’t care what the members of the Order believe. If all of their meetings are like that I want nothing to do with them.”



“But the Order is the only ones making an effort to fight Voldemort, of course you need them,” she insisted.



“And isn’t that just the mark of the sad state of affairs in the Wizarding world,” Harry sneered. “I’m not going to run off and do something foolish Hermione, you don’t have to worry about that but neither am I going to sit back and do nothing. I won’t allow them to pat me on the head and tell me to sit in a corner like a good boy only to take me out when they need their weapon.”



He would use them just as they intended to use him to fight their war. He would attend the order meetings for information, renew his subscription to the news publications so that he would know what was going on and begin to formulate his own plan of action. He couldn’t fight Voldemort right now but when the day came for them to meet again, he wouldn’t be hiding behind anymore statues letting someone else cast the spells for him.



There was one thing he could start with right now. “Neville, I need your help.”



“Of course,” the other quickly agreed.



“I need to know everything there is in the old ways about Samhain.”





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FSFSFS





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The next morning had him up at his normal time for his run and Professor McGonagall waiting for him in the common room after he showered and dressed. Their walk down to his Great Uncle’s rooms was mostly silent, with his teacher informing him that the students were now all aware of his status as Lord. It was probably mere formality, for she had to know his friends would tell him. She added that he should come to her if he had any difficulties but as much as he respected her, McGonagall was too close to Dumbledore for him to ever feel comfortable sharing his secrets with her.



The door was answered by a house elf dressed in a white shirt and dark brown knickerbockers with a matching waistcoat specially made for its tiny body. It bowed to the Professor but when his it’s eyes finally reached him, they widened brightly as it clasped its hands together practically bouncing. Harry flinched, preparing for anything, especially a Dobby reaction.



“My Lord!” The House elf bowed quickly as if he couldn’t bear taking his gaze away. His rather deep voice had the same lilt Seamus\' carried. “It’s yous!”



“Yes, it’s me,” Harry agreed, not knowing what to say to such an enthusiastic greeting.



“Perhaps you can inform Lord Roarke that his great-nephew is here?” McGonagall suggested, taking pity on him in hopes of moving the house elf along.



“Yes! Yes! Bairre tells Master Regan right away. Please comes in.”



The excited elf flashed away after letting them into the quarters. The sitting room was warm and inviting without the touches of any of Hogwarts Houses. Instead it was decorated in warm browns and ivory with heavy masculine furniture that inspired comfort.



A door across the room opened and Harry felt his breath catch. The Lord of the House of Roarke emerged attired in simple black trousers and an indigo tunic looking stately and ruggedly handsome. He carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence that was only enhanced by the gray in his hair and beard.



“Well finally, Maeve’s boy.”



A broad grin spread across his face, relaxed and affectionate, that seemed so familiar to Harry. It took him a moment to realize it was the same one that graced his own face. Before he knew it, he was enfolded in the man’s arms in a hug tight enough to squeeze the air from his lungs. For a moment he was tempted to sink into the embrace, allowing the warm welcome to surround him. To heal all the wounds of his heart. Yet he had been hurt too many times to take this stranger on faith. There were too many questions he needed answers to before he could ever consider allowing this man into his life, no matter how great his hugs were.



“Good morning, my Lord,” he managed to wheeze out and was finally released.



Brilliant cobalt eyes were direct and sparked with emotion as large hands gripped his shoulders. “We’ll be having none of that, Harrigan. I’m your Uncle Regan.” He nodded as if the matter had been settled then turned to the Professor to offer a charismatic smile. “Thank you for bringing him to me, madam.”



It was a dismissal, a gentle one, but clearly a request for the Deputy Headmistress to leave them. “Of course, my Lord. Professor Dumbledore, asked me to convey a request for a moment of your time this afternoon, if you would be so kind.”



“Professor Dumbledore can kiss my arse and damned well knows it, if you’ll pardon my language,” his uncle’s voice had gone from generous to cold in the space of seconds surprising not only him but the Professor as well. “I’ll not be paying a call on Albus Dumbledore anytime soon and he insults the both of us by having you relay this request. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak with Harrigan alone.”



She didn’t know whether she should be offended at the harsh words but nevertheless took her leave of them with a small incline of her head in acquiesce. When they were finally alone, his uncle turned that keen gaze back in his direction. “Bet you’re wondering where the hell I’ve been all of your life, aren’t you lad?”



The blunt honesty while disarming was a pleasant change from the games, riddles and innuendo he was normally given. “Yes sir, that thought did cross my mind.” He decided to return the favor, speaking frankly as well.



Thick brows creased in thought before one corner of his Uncle Regan’s mouth pulled into a smirk. “Good, I’m glad some of Maeve’s mettle is in there.” His shoulders were released as a hand gestured to the round table already set for two for the morning meal.



“We’ll discuss things over our morning meal. Bairre?” Regan snapped his fingers and the same house elf that answered the door popped into the room but he had two large trays hovering behind him. “We’re ready to break our fast, Bairre.”



“Yes, Master Regan.”



The large breakfast consisted of thick porridge sweetened lightly with brown sugar, fat sausages and rashers of bacon, eggs, stewed apples and raisins, potato pancakes and thick slices of fresh brown bread still warm and covered with sweet creamy butter. His uncle was given a dark aromatic cup of coffee while Harry opted for both milk and orange juice after choosing a little of everything offered. This earned him a thoughtful nod of approval from the man sitting across from him.



He was a bit surprised when a large calloused hand gripped his own and a rich baritone began the morning blessing. The result of their swirling, intertwining magic had a pang of melancholy twisting in his chest. It was so comforting, the way their magic mingled so easily. Harry had to wonder why he didn’t have this growing up when he so desperately needed it. Why was he denied his family?



“How,” he stopped and cleared the thick emotion from his throat, “How did you know I followed the old ways?”



“I didn’t,” his uncle answered turning to face him and Harry could see the man was just as deeply affected as he had been. “I thought living with those muggles, it would be something I’d have to teach you. I’m pleased to know you’ve found the way on your own. Sometimes, the path is clearer when voluntarily chosen.”



Regan took a drink of coffee, then set the cup down, elbows braced atop the table and fingers laced together. Harry knew their conversation would begin now. “When the goblins informed me you wished to see me, I requested that I be allowed to explain the circumstances of around my absence in your life. You may contact them to check the veracity of my words. I ask only that you allow me to speak my peace before you ask any questions.”



“Alright,” he agreed, starting in on his breakfast to give his uncle a chance to speak.



“Your grandma Maeve was the youngest of us Roarkes. Our only sister. A quiet lass and so very beautiful, she could charm the stars from the sky with her smile.” The love in his voice was evident as was the sorrow at her death even now several years later. “You’ve the look of her, though the stamp of Potter is undeniable. Slender, bit small but such strong magic. You have that same fae-like aura ‘bout you. Same as Maeve.”



He had always thought his height and size was due to the abuse and malnutrition he suffered from the Dursleys and here this man was telling him it could possibly be attributed to his grandmother. He didn’t know how he should feel about that but it didn’t change the abuse for he was still taking potions to counter the effects.



“When that Potter boy came sniffing around, we were all set to light a fire under his arse and send him back to Deckmoor where he belonged. Maeve was having none of it. She wanted Philip Potter and there would be no further discussion.”



“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Harry felt obligated to defend his grandfather.



“English upstart. Wasn’t good enough for our Maeve,” his uncle growled but Harry could tell it was more good natured than contrary. “And of course she had the four of us firmly wrapped around her dainty little finger, so what Maeve wanted we were sure to give her.”



He tried to imagine the woman his uncle spoke of. She would be a lady of small stature with the black hair of a starless night, and the same intense blue eyes like his uncle. A woman who was strong enough to follow her convictions and beloved by four protective older brothers willing to grant her heart’s desires. What kind of man had his grandfather been to capture the affections of a woman like that?



“They loved each other?” He asked in a tentative voice.



“Oh, aye, Harrigan. They loved each other. Deeply,” Regan sighed heavily, a flash of anguish in his expression and gone the next moment. Harry looked up as a large hand cupped his cheek with more tenderness than he would think it capable. It was such a Sirius gesture, that he bit his lip to hold back the surge of memory the touch brought forth. He didn’t think he would ever have that again.



“The War was harsh on our family,” Regan continued on, returning to his meal to give them both the opportunity to compose themselves. “It took my youngest brother Harrigan first,” Regan nodded in Harry’s direction. “You were named for him. Your father was mad for him, as the two had so much in common with their pranks and easy laughter.”



He had wondered where his name originated. It was with no small measure of pride to know he held the same as the uncle his father had been close to.



“Then Cian was lost routing Death Eaters from one of our tenant’s lands. We Roarkes were always up for a good fight and Cian more than all of us, especially when those bastards were targeting one of ours.”



“I didn’t know Voldemort’s campaign had extended to Ireland?”



“The bastard wanted control of all the remaining Ancient and Noble houses. When he was denied, he resorted to destroying the ones who refused. It is the way, isn’t it. To covet what you can never have.”



It certainly was, Harry realized. Voldemort would have learned about the Ancient and Noble houses and been enraged that his beloved ancestor Salazar Slytherin wasn’t apart of the thirteen. It wouldn’t be enough to have the purebloods bowing at his feet and kissing his robes. It must have burned to have the Houses turn him aside either with neutrality or outright refusal.



“When we lost Maeve, we were hit the hardest. She was our heart you see. Your father was inconsolable, he adored his parents. It focused him, their deaths. Made him determined to see Voldemort stopped. Before then, I don’t think the war was real for him as he was a mere lad still in school. Afterwards, he was determined to see the end of the wizard who was tearing his family apart. That’s why when we heard about your parents deaths we fought so hard for you.”



“What?” His mind whirled at the significance of his words, “ I don’t understand, I’ve never heard about this.”



“I’m not surprised. Dumbledore wouldn\'t want you to know how he kept you from your rightful family. You have to understand, things were bad back then. Verra bad. Brothers turning against brothers. Friends betraying friends. Trust was hard to come by and Dumbledore wasn’t taking chances with you, their savior.”



He knew something about that kind of betrayal, harry mused. Wormtail had destroyed his family by revealing their location to Voldemort and then stolen years with Sirius and Remus from Harry by faking his death and laying the blame on his enraged, grieving godfather. Everyone explained how dark times were back then and he could understand that fear but it always, always, came back to Dumbledore. The Wizarding world placed so much faith and trust in the Headmaster, it was no wonder he believed he could maneuver people around like pieces on a chess board under his command.



“We heard of your parents deaths at the same time as everyone else in the Wizarding world. Dumbledore didn’t have the decency to tell us. No he was too busy formulating his plans to bother with such courtesies as those. I went to see him for I’d heard about Blacks betrayal and knew as your godfather he would have been the most obvious choice as your guardian. I wanted to know if your parents had made other arrangements for you and if not, I would take you back home and raise you myself.”



“He told you about the blood wards?” Harry posed, trying to understand Dumbledore’s thinking.



“Yes. And why would I accept those cursed things, I asked him. Wasn’t I your blood as well?”



“You were listed as my guardian in my parents will, did they tell you they were doing it?”



“No they didn’t, they may not have had the chance. I only saw you once after you were born. Afterwards, my own daughter gave birth to her twins. Your parents sent an owl telling me they were going into hiding and wouldn’t be able to contact me for a while. I’m not surprised to be named guardian, as your father wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with you other than family.”



The goblins told him the will hadn’t been read so that went in Dumbledore’s favor, enabling him to take advantage of the loophole that left him at the mercies of the Dursleys. If a muggle couldn’t have the will read, no one could challenge Dumbledore’s choice.



“When I demanded to see you, he was very gracious, very apologetic with his denial but I wasn’t to be allowed to see you. He guaranteed you were safe, gave his word, but if he allowed anyone with magical ability to visit, it would be possible for any remaining Death Eaters to find you.”



“He used what happened to the Longbottoms as proof,” Harry sat back, the remainder of his meal forgotten as the thoroughness of Dumbledore’s actions struck him. It was almost like the fates themselves had agreed with the elder wizard to keep him trapped with relatives who despised him rather than see him raised with a loving family.



“Yes he did. He spun a sorrowful tale about how the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom was nearly decimated, the Lord a victim of the cruciatus curse and the heir without both parents, almost a victim of Death Eaters himself. “



“So that’s why you believed him?”



“I told him I didn’t give a ruddy fuck about the Longbottoms.”



Harry choked on the swallow of milk he had just taken. His fit of coughing earned him two sharp swats to the back before his throat cleared enough for him to breathe properly. “You what?”



“Did he honestly think Death Eaters were going to keep me away? He kept refusing until I was forced to take him before the Wizengamot.”



“And they agreed with him.”



“Yes, sadly, as Chief Warlock he was able to order a small session with select members who were proven light wizards. The suit and all of its documents were sealed after the rendered judgment in Dumbledore’s favor. None of them were willing to challenge Dumbledore’s authority, still too afraid of Voldemort and too in awe of their savior. The last thing they wanted was a Lord from a different country with questionable magic practices coming in to steal their precious savior.”



“Questionable magic practices?” Harry raised a brow in query.



“Oh, a Roarke is willing to get the job done by any means necessary. Dumbledore is more in favor of mercy and reform. I prefer a good killing curse for the monsters who like to slaughter families and rape women and children.”



He couldn’t disagree with his uncle’s reasoning. Before performing the protection ritual with Septima, he had seen some of the cruelty Voldemort was capable of. “They respect Dumbledore too much to go against him.”



“And I lost the case. It was determined you would remain where you were. Hidden and safe with your muggle relatives.”



“And you gave up then?”



“Honestly, Harrigan. If you learn nothing else about me, know that I’m a stubborn bastard and I don’t give up on what I want easily. It took me a while to locate the muggles house but a month later and the right spell I was standing on their front lawn ready to steal you away from them.”



“So what happened?”



“Didn’t count on the wards. They were supposedly turned to any magical signature that meant to cause you harm and evidently wanting to kidnap you away from the muggles despite the fact that you’re my great nephew and I loved you was considered trying to cause you harm. Before I could even get inside the house, the alarms for the wards were going off and I was surrounded by Ministry Aurors.”



“But you’re my uncle! Shouldn’t the blood wards been able to distinguish that?”



“Any magic wielding being would have set the alarms off, Harry. As a Lord they were afraid to lodge any real charges against me but I was forbidden from contacting you in anyway until you initiated it first. I would have risked it, stolen you away but the muggles never brought you outside the house. You were five years old when I saw you again for the first time. I thought it would have terrified you to be kidnapped from the only family you ever knew.”



“Not as much as you think,” he muttered.



“And what does that mean?” Regan demanded, the fury in his voice making him flinch. “Harrigan, answer me. What does, not as much as I think mean? Did those bastards harm you in any way?”



“It doesn’t matter.”



“It bloody well does matter!” A fist slammed down hard on the table making it shake. Harry would have laughed, as he realized how much his temper resembled that of his uncle\'s. He had done the exact same thing the night before while talking to Mrs. Weasley.



He placed his hand over the clenched one that was trembling under the force of his uncle’s fury. When their eyes met, Harry gave him a small smile, appreciating the rage on his behalf but it was not necessary. It didn’t matter about the blood wards, or what Voldemort could do, he wasn’t returning to 4 Privet Drive ever again. He had choices now. Deckmoor and Griffin Keep awaited him and now there was even this man. Family.



“I survived, that’s all that matters.”