magnolia07

The Dark Lord’s Daughter

Part the Seventh

Harry had to go to court.

He had been called back into the Dark Lord’s study where Lord Malfoy was also waiting, sitting regally with his walking stick.

“It technically broke the rules,” the Dark Lord mused.  “We have to get Harrogate’s testimony into evidence.”

Harry was standing near the fire, looking into the flames.  “Mother,” he suggested. 

The room went silent behind him.  He turned around.

“Mother.  Mother is here.  I could be talking to Mother.  It would be quite natural to discuss my godparents, my godsister.  We correspond.  Why not take the step forward?”

The Dark Lord regarded him carefully.  “I know you’ve been seeing her.  How is anybody’s guess.”

“Then this hurts no one,” Harry parried back.  “Mother need never go to court.—There is no legal reason to keep me from her.”

“I suppose you want to introduce Magnolia,” the Dark Lord surmised, looking over at his photographs.  “That will come later,” he decided.  “Very well.  You will see your mother after dinner and discuss Lux so you can testify as to the conversation.”  He didn’t seem all that pleased by the turn of events, but he seemed willing to give into the necessity of them. 

“Lady Maia and I are correspondents,” Lod Malfoy contributed.  “It is only a recent correspondence, but she can then inform me about what she learns.  Magic will be satisfied as we will be under oath.”

Harry breathed out through his nose.  He would get to see his mother then.

It was the Dark Lord who led him to the North Tower.  It was warded by handprint and Harry had to place his hand on a certain stone for his magic to be recognized.  He went up the winding stairs, holding a candle above his head so as to see, until he came out into a turret that was made comfortable by blue and pink tapestries.

A bulldog was snoozing in front of a roaring fire.

His mother was sitting on a loveseat reading a manuscript, but she looked up when they entered.

“Uncle,” she greeted.  “I wasn’t expecting—”  Then her face broke out into a wide smile.  “Harrogate.”  His mother stood and reached out for him, drawing him into a hug, her chin tucking up onto his shoulder.  “How you’ve grown.”

“We are here with a purpose,” the Dark Lord told her.  “We need to testify in court as to the providence of Grimmauld Place.  I need you to tell Harrogate of his godparents, Sirius and Lux, of Imogen, and of where they lived and who should possess it now.  Then I need you to write to your cousin Lucius about what Harrogate tells you.”

She turned to look at him and bit he lip that was stained blue.  “Oh, dear.  Is it not yours, Harrogate?  Surely as Imogen’s godbrother…?”

“No,” Harry told her, shaking his head.

“Well,” she began, pulling him toward the loveseat.  “Heir Sirius Black was your father’s dearest friend.  Lux Kingsley was Sirius’s godsister and wife, which was anathema as their magic was so close together, but they loved each other.” She smiled.  “We were all breaking the rules.  Sirius loved Lux although magic said they shouldn’t.  James loved me although he had a Muggle wedding service with his—”

“They’re not even married by magic?” Harry checked.

“No,” Mother told him carefully, glancing at the Dark Lord who had withdrawn to the other side of the turret room.  “No, they’re not legally married.”

“Then you should have been able to run away,” Harry carried on.

She reached up and ran her fingers down his cheek.  “Yes, dear one,” she agreed.

The Dark Lord made a noise at the back of his throat.

They both glanced at him.

“But none of that now,” Mother insisted.  “Sirius was named your godfather, and I insisted that Lux be named your godmother.  I told Uncle Marvolo that when I laid you in his arms.  Sirius, though, was always reckless.  He died mere hours after the attack on Godric’s Hollow.  Lux was left alone with an ailing mother-in-law and child.”  She paused and seemed to think a moment.  “Then Lady Black died and it was just Lux and little Imogen.  I don’t know how it happened.  A house elf should have been there.”  She bit her lip and sighed.

“Imogen performed magic,” Harry prompted.

“And was tortured and killed for it.  No mother can survive that,” his mother asserted.  “I would not have survived the full loss of you.  Only knowing that you were alive and thriving kept me going.”  She breathed and her ocean blue eyes looked into Harry’s.  “I always assumed the house became yours, Harrogate.  It allowed me to rest easy that you had an inheritance as a second son.”

“No,” Harry told her.  “Dumbledore has it.”

“Dumbledore,” she repeated.  “Sirius never would have left it to Dumbledore.  He would have left it to his daughter, Imogen, then to family and godfamily.  He was very invested in the Black family even if he pretended otherwise.”  She paused and asked.  “What does Dumbledore do with it?”

“Well,” Harry answered, licking his lips.  He took his mother’s hands carefully knowing she wouldn’t like it, “It’s the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.”

She blinked and then turned to the Dark Lord.  “Do you think James—?” she asked carefully.

“It’s the only explanation.”

“He takes my son’s inheritance and uses it against us?” she demanded angrily.  “I would never have thought that of James.”

“He has had over a decade of his wife’s influence,” the Dark Lord surmised.  “We cannot know what goes on in their sham of a marriage.”  He looked over at the sleeping bulldog.  “He allowed Harrogate to be beaten and terrorized by his own blood until Magnolia and Draco put a stop to it.”

“I know,” she agreed, quietly.  “James writes me every so often, but I have never returned his letters even though now I might.”  His mother looked Harry over and gave him a small smile.  “Failing to rein in recalcitrant children and stealing your child’s inheritance are two separate things.”

“Grimmauld Place is rather dark,” Harry observed.  “I’m not sure Magnolia will like it.”

“The point is to have somewhere to go to establish yourself away from your in laws,” his mother told him.  “Decorating is purely superficial.”

Harry breathed out and nodded.  He would need a team of house elves to put Grimmauld Place right if it did indeed belong to him.  He wondered what his dad would say to him.  He feared what Lily would say to him.  He mused whether or not he’d get called to the Headmaster’s office.  He knew Jonathan and even Violet often were.  He’d never had the pleasure, and for that he was grateful.

He was taken back down the staircase and he was told, quite firmly, the magic wouldn’t recognize him again.  Harry would not be able to find his way back again without the magic badly burning him.

The trial came rather quickly.

His mother apparently wrote Lord Malfoy that night, and the lawsuit was brought before the Wizengamot at nine in the morning.  Lady Maia had nominated Lord Malfoy as Harry’s advocate as she was in seclusion and they were related through marriage.

By Wednesday, he found himself in court with Magnolia on his arm. 

His mother’s letter was read into evidence and then Harry was called to the stand.

“I didn’t know I had inherited the house until Sunday night when I spoke with my mother, no,” Harry told Lord Malfoy who was asking the questions.  “We were talking about my godmother, Heiress Sirius Black.”

“That is, the former Lady Lux Kingsley.”

He leaned forward slightly even though there wasn’t a microphone.  “Yes,” he agreed.

“But you have been to Grimmauld Place?” Lord Malfoy asked.

“Yes, many times.  I thought Dumbledore owned it.  He has it under the Fidelius Charm.”

“And why is that?” Lord Malfoy looked at him expectantly.

“It’s—” Harry paused and glanced over at Magnolia who was sitting in the stands.  She gave him a small, encouraging smile.  “It’s the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.”

The gallery erupted into a myriad of whispers.

Lord Malfoy began to pace up and down in front of him.  “Are you yourself a member of the Order of the Phoenix?”

“No,” Harry answered.  “I don’t plan on joining.”

“Do you know members?”

“Yes,” he agreed.  “I don’t think I should say in open court—”

“No, of course not,” Lord Malfoy agreed.  “Do you agree with their mission statement?”

Harry paused at this.  “I don’t know what their mission statement is.”

“To fight both covertly and overtly the Dark Lord and his forces.”

Their eyes caught, ocean blue to ice blue.  “No.  I don’t believe in vigilante fighting.”

“You do not welcome their presence in a property you may have inherited from your godsister, Lady Imogen Black, then?”

“Definitely not.  Most of the ‘children’ there are Gryffindors who like to put me in the Hospital Wing.  They’re bullies, the lot of them.  The summer before fourth year, a group of them tied me up upside down and left me in a cupboard with a bogart before dinner.  I wasn’t found until lunch the next day.”

“And since it was summer you weren’t able to use magic,” Lord Malfoy supplied helpfully.

“No.”

“Where do you spend your summers now if not with the Order of the Phoenix?”

“With my intended, Lady Magnolia Riddle, and her cousins, the Malfoys.”

He hummed.  “What are your plans for the house?”

“When Magnolia and I get married when I’m eighteen, we’d like to set up there so we’d have our own establishment.  I’d like to give Magnolia a London address.”

Dumbledore’s testimony was a monologue about the importance of fighting the Dark Lord.  Of course, he used the Dark Lord’s actual title which caused even the judge to shiver.  At one point he even accused Harry of being a Death Eater, at which point, Lord Malfoy shot up from his seat and objected rather loudly.

“A fifteen-year-old wizard is not a Death Eater just because he does not support the Order of the Phoenix. If Dumbledore wishes to establish that Harrogate Potter is a Death Eater, he must prove it!”

In the end, the judge ruled in favor of Harry and the Order of the Phoenix were evicted by the end of the week.  Dumbledore was ordered to remove the Fidelius.

The Daily Prophet committed an entire double page spread to Harrogate Gaunt Potter on Friday.  They gave a profile on him, on his lineage, on his engagement, and on his predicted worth.

“Your parents’ marriage is over,” the Dark Lord noted as he came into breakfast.  “I predict divorce.”

“Do you, Father?” Magnolia asked, looking up from the coverage.  “I thought Auror Potter had endured so much nothing could separate them now.”

“If there’s a divorce,” Harry murmured, “it means my parents can marry.”

The Dark Lord grimaced.  “I suppose it does.”

When he left the room, Harry leaned into Magnolia and asked, “Do you think he’d allow it?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.  “Cousin Maia might be so used to solitude, she might not be ready for such a large change.”

They went back to Platform 9¾ and Harry was aware how everyone was not only looking at Magnolia, but how they were also looking at him.   Witches were specifically regarding him.  Leaning in toward Magnolia, he murmured, “Why is Parkinson looking at me like that?”

“Everyone who can read between the lines knows you’re the Dark Lord’s great-nephew.  You should expect it now.”

He shivered.  “They didn’t even mention it.”

“You’re the son of Lady Maia Gaunt.  Everyone knows who Lady Maia is.”  She ran her hand soothingly up his arm.  Harry wished she wouldn’t.  “Welcome to my life.—But I suppose we are truly a power couple now.”

He looked down at her and her ocean blue eyes gazed back up at him.

He saw a flicker by her temple and he reached up to flick it away, only to be interrupted by the sound of James Potter calling his name down the line of the platform.  He sighed, but she squeezed his arm in support before they turned toward his father.

James Potter was in his Auror robes, and looked quite harried.  “Your mother hasn’t answered any of my letters.”

“I can’t make Mother answer your letters,” Harry apologized.  “I only got her a dictation quill in January.  Perhaps there’s too much to say.”

“Too much like this business with Grimmauld Place?”

“Whose idea was that?” Harry questioned, looking over at Magnolia.  “I inherited it from Imogen.  Why would anyone think that a Gaunt property should be used for the Order of the Phoenix?”

“You’re a Potter, Harry,” James murmured as he grasped his son’s shoulder.  “You have always been a Potter first.”  His hazel gaze met Harry’s ocean blue eyes.

“Are you sure about that?” Magnolia asked from Harry’s side.  “With you he’s beaten and low and running and jumping over walls.  With us he stands tall and is the Head of his own House.”

James Potter turned toward her and breathed through his teeth.  “Lady Magnolia, always a pleasure to see you.”

“Whose idea was it?” Harry asked again.  “Mother could have had her own establishment for over a decade—and you used it for the Order instead.  How could you, Dad?”

James looked devastated.  “How is your mother?”

“In seclusion,” Harry told him.  “She has a dog.  Aurora.  A great big bulldog that tries to climb into your lap like a tiny little yapper thing.”  He gave a crooked smile at the memory of the dog.  “She’s named after you.”

“Really?” James asked in wonder.

“Auror—Aurora,” Harry explained.  “She’s the ugliest dog on the planet, but Mother loves her.  Maybe if you sent dog treats Mother might write you back.”  He leaned forward.  “Now, whose blasted idea was it, Dad?  Was it yours, Dumbledore’s, or Lily’s?”

James made a sign to Magnolia but she remained firmly on Harry’s arm.  Harry ground his teeth in annoyance.

“Dumbledore asked for it, but it was your stepmother who pushed for it,” James told the couple carefully.  “I was going to sign it over to you on your seventeenth birthday when you could legally hold property.  As it is, now it’s legally in your mother’s name to do with as she will, which means it’s legally in Lord Malfoy’s control.”

“Which means Aunt Narcissa will be invading with her house elves and architects,” Magnolia informed.  “I don’t like Lily Potter.”

Harry was inclined to agree with her, but he quickly changed the subject.  “So, Jonathan and that Granger girl?”

Magnolia immediately refocused her attention on James Potter.

“What do you know about it?”

“Everyone in Slytherin knows that the Weaslette was caught snogging Zabini,” Harry told his dad.  “We saw the Granger girl with Jonathan.”  He placed his hand over Magnolia’s on his arm.  Their ocean blue eyes connected. 

“She’s Gryffindor Prefect,” Magnolia noticed.  “She’s unusually fair to us Slytherins.”

“Lily and I have high hopes for the relationship.  Leave it be, please.—Harry,” he urged when Harry didn’t acknowledge his urgings at first.  Instead, he was looking down the platform at Granger and Jonathan, whose arm was out of its sling, finally.

“Right.  Leave the romance alone,” he agreed.  “Granger as far as I can tell has never hurt a fly.  I can’t imagine her raising anyone’s ire.”

“Certainly not ours,” Magnolia agreed.

James looked the two over again and then nodded.  “I don’t suppose we’ll see you at Godric’s Hollow this summer.”

“No,” Harry agreed.  “I don’t suppose you will.”

The group broke up and Harry and Magnolia got on the train and found their compartment.  Draco and Genevieve were already wrapped up in each other and Harry laughed at them, throwing a book at Draco’s head.

“Got it?” Magnolia asked, as she took a seat.

“I do,” he agreed, tossing the book back at Harry.  “It looks like an innocent ball of yarn.”

Harry laughed.  “Why would Jonathan have a ball of yarn?”

“But why would he bother to throw it out if it’s in an old pair of socks?” Draco questioned.  “We can have Ganger slip it into his trunk and he’ll be sickening by end of summer.”

Genevieve looked at him, pushing his blond fringe out of his face.  She turned to Harry, however.  “What are his career prospects, Harrogate?”

“What do you think?” Harry laughed.  “He wants to be an Auror just like Dad.”

“Figures,” Genevieve sighed.  “Such a horrible career.”  She paused.  “My aunt’s husband is a Death Eater.”

“Madam Apricot Crouch?” Harry checked.

“Why yes,” she agreed, sitting forward.  “It’s not widely known.”

“No, of course not,” Draco agreed, pulling her feet up off the floor and over his lap.  “I imagine Crouch is invaluable.”

“He—or rather Madam Crouch—gave me a photograph of the two of them with my mother and Regulus Black as sixth year students.  I have it in my trunk.”

“How fascinating,” Genevieve murmured.  “I should love to see that, Harrogate, if you don’t mind.  Aunt Apricot and my father were twins.  They looked nothing like each other.”

“Really?” Malfoy asked.

Magnolia had pulled out a book and had laid her head in Harry’s lap, allowing his fingers to brush through her fringe as he had nothing better to do with his hand.

“Father was golden like me.  Golden hair, golden eyes, golden skin.  The Selwyn looks.  Aunt Apricot was named for the looks but her hair was a strawberry blonde and her eyes were green.  No one could figure it out.  She was practically a changeling!”

“Fascinating,” Harry murmured, glancing down at Magnolia who was a Gaunt changeling. 

Her ocean blue eyes snapped up to his, clearly guessing what was passing through his mind.  She gave him a soft smile.  Harry honestly wished she wouldn’t.

Magnolia shut her book and looked over at her cousin and Genevieve Selwyn.  “So?” she asked.  “I notice Lacerta and Theodore Nott are conspicuously absent.”

Draco actually blushed, which meant his porcelain pink skin dusted pink. 

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Magnolia prodded.  She propped herself up, and Harry moved his arms so he wasn’t pinning her down by accident.  “Right?  You and Genevieve are actually going?  It’s official?”

Genevieve cleared her throat.

Magnolia and Harry exchanged a look.

Taking the situation into his own hands, he extended his right hand to Draco, who looked at it with wide grey eyes before grabbing it into a firm handshake.  Magnolia clapped in delight and Genevieve began to blush as well, and soon the two couples began to laugh and plan the rest of the year.

Of course, both Draco and Genevieve were prefects so they cycled out and for awhile Harry and Magnolia were alone for a bit of time.  Magnolia even popped out for a moment to find Lacerta and go change.

It was then, surprisingly, that Granger came and found him.

“How was your break?”

“I don’t need to ask how yours went,” Granger told him.  “I heard about the court case.  Jonathan didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of going, so we stayed at Godric’s Hollow.”

“Well, he’s had the run of Grimmauld Place since we were children, even though it was legally my house this entire time,” he argued before putting up his hand.  “None of that.  My aunt, Lady Malfoy, is doing it up for me and my bride.”

“How lovely,” Granger agreed with it carefully.  “I need to ask you for something.  Can you get me Wormwood?”

Harry stared at her.  Wormwood was a highly illegal substance.  It was also the only known contraception in the wizarding world outside of cursing witches’ wombs, which could lead to infertility.  Condoms did not work against magic.  Hormones, likewise, didn’t work.

“I think something could be arranged,” he answered carefully.  “I’d have to check.  How soon do you need it?”

“As soon as possible.  Jonathan is graduating and I have to keep him interested even though I’m just a fifth year prefect.”

Yes, Harry saw the problem.

Harry got up and went over to Draco’s trunk.  He opened it and went to the warded compartment where he knew the small ball of yarn was kept.  He took it out and then held it up to Granger.  “I need you to put this in a pair of Jonathan’s old socks.  A pair he’s not likely to wear but also is not likely to throw out.”

“What does it do?”

“It copies letters,” he lied.  “It won’t harm anyone in proximity to it.  We’ll know if it hasn’t been placed in his trunk within a day.”

“How does it work?”

“Really, Granger?  You want to know how it works?” Harry asked in consternation, not knowing how he was supposed to lie to her.  “Just put it in his trunk.  I’ll see about the Wormwood.”

She stared at the little ball of cranberry yarn before sighing and putting it in her pocket.  “Fine,” she sighed.  “Ginny’s still taken care of?”

“Wizard’s honor,” Harry promised, placing an ‘x’ over his heart.

She reached forward and hugged Harry, which was really quite awkward.  “We’ll be in laws if this goes off without a hitch,” she breathed into his ear before releasing him.  Well, they wouldn’t be.  Jonathan would hopefully be dead by then. 

Lacerta showed up with Magnolia near the last leg of the journey when they were all in their robes.  Theodore, however, was still absent.  Harry saw him down the table at the feast, but Magnolia pressed her hand against his arm.  “You have to leave some friends behind,” she explained quietly.  “Not everyone will come with you.  You will have cigars with him at The Wicked Stepmother, nothing more.”

Harry’s ocean blue eyes met hers, and a hot anger ran through him.  Theo Nott had been his close friend since the opening feast first year.  He was the only person who had had his back all these years with Jonathan, and Magnolia just expected him to drop him?

“You can’t be serious,” he argued back.

She gave him a small smile and placed her hand on his arm.  “Dead serious, Harrogate,” she threatened before turning back to her meal.

Harry felt a rush of ice run down his spine and he swallowed.  What Magnolia Riddle had given she could take away, but there was a price, and this was part of it.  Looking down the table, his eyes connected with Theo’s and he tried to convey his regret.

This would not stand, he promised himself.  This would not stand. 

It was May when Harry and Draco were walking near the Library when they found Jonathan snogging Granger.  They had gotten her Wormwood a fortnight before, though Harry had no idea if she was putting it to use.

Jonathan looked wan and there were bags underneath his eyes.  As the weeks continued, he looked more and more sickly.  Harry was beginning to wonder if he would fail his physical for the Auror examination.

O.W.L. exams were grueling. 

There were independent examiners and they all looked at Harry with curious gazes.

“Harrogate Gaunt Potter,” one called.  “Gaunt.”  He paused.  “Your mother is Lady Maia Gaunt.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A fine student,” he agreed before beginning the exam. 

Another man stared at him a long time, and then asked, “Aren’t Riddles Gaunts?”

“Yes,” Harry agreed.  “My Great Uncle is a Riddle.”

The examiner swallowed nervously and his hand was even shaking a little.

Harry wondered if his questioning was so blatant, what questions would be put to Magnolia the next year.

On the last day of examinations, there was a commotion.  Jonathan went missing from his N.E.W.T.s and everyone said he had taken a band of students with him.

“It’s true,” Draco said around the fire in the Slytherin Common Room.  “His scar started bleeding during his N.E.W.T. examinations, he was screaming, and then he took off.  Cormac McLaggen and Fred Weasley went with him.”

“They go everywhere with him,” Harry complained.  “They beat up little children together.  Little Muggle children who can’t fight back.”

“What if they’re expelled?” Genevieve asked.

“Can they be expelled?” Magnolia questioned.  “Their N.E.W.T.s are now over.  You just sit around and wait the rest of term.”

However, it was all over The Daily Prophet the next morning.  The Dark Lord had been sighted at the Ministry of Magic, with Jonathan Potter saying that ‘Lord Voldemort is back.’ 

“No pictures,” Magnolia said happily.  “It’s his word against ours.—It seems they destroyed the Hall of Prophecies.”

“What’s the Hall of Prophecies?” Harry asked, not really caring.

“Exactly what it sounds like.”  She stole a piece of toast off of Harry’s plate, which vexed him as he was going to eat it.

“Well, Jonathan will have a big head now that this has happened.  He’ll have scraped by two or three N.E.W.T.s, enough to get him in, he’ll go into training, and then he’ll die of ill health.”

“Let’s just see if there’s a Mrs. Potter first,” Draco wondered, nodding his head toward the Gryffindor Table where Jonathan and a fussing Hermione were now coming in.  “How horrible they are together.  I can’t believe we played matchmaker.”

“Only for a purpose,” Harry argued, taking a sip of his milky tea.  He looked back of his shoulder at his half-brother.  Yes, it was only for a purpose.