The Wind Mage's Legacy: Chapter 18

Hi all, 

Here’s the final chapter of the week. Harry visits the Malfoys and is attacked by someone in Diagon Alley. 

Chapter 18

Malfoy Manor loomed before Harry, its dark stone walls weathered by centuries of history. The iron gates opened at his approach. The manor's windows stared down at him, their grimy glass reflecting his approach with sullen indifference. It seemed the Malfoys had fallen on hard times without Lucius and the money they lost for supporting Voldemort.  

A house elf answered his knock, its tea-towel tunic pristine despite the manor's general decay. The creature vanished without a word, leaving Harry in an entrance hall stripped of its former grandeur. 

Narcissa Malfoy descended the sweeping staircase, her silk robes whispering against marble steps. A baby girl dozed in her arms, dark curls framing cherubic features. Her face bore new lines, elegant posture slightly stooped, though her blue eyes remained sharp as ever.

"Mr Potter." Her fingers whitened against the bannister. "What brings you to our home?"

"Draco sent me a letter." Harry's gaze fixed on the sleeping child. "Who might this be?"

"My daughter."

Harry grinned. “That’s a lie.”

He summoned a gentle breeze, letting it dance through the baby's hair. Her eyes snapped open, revealing irises dark as midnight. She gurgled with delight, pudgy hands reaching for the invisible currents swirling around her.

"She looks remarkably familiar." Harry maintained the playful wind as the baby squealed. "Almost like she could be Andromeda's child."

Narcissa's spine stiffened, but footsteps interrupted her response.

"Potter." Draco emerged from a side door, his pointed face gaunt. "Mother, we'll speak in my study."

The study's shelves sagged beneath leather-bound volumes. A half-empty bottle of Firewhisky stood sentinel beside scattered parchments. Draco sank into a worn leather chair, dark circles shadowing his eyes as he gestured for Harry to sit.

“I can’t believe you willingly came here,” Draco said. 

Harry shrugged. “I had to force myself. This place doesn’t hold pleasant memories for me.”

Draco poured himself a generous measure of Firewhisky. He drank the contents down in one go, grimacing as the heat burned his throat.  "It holds some unpleasant memories for me as well. Unlike you, however, I don’t have the luxury of leaving.”

“You have my sympathy.”

"I don’t appreciate the sarcasm” Draco said as poured himself another drink. “Why did you come here? I don’t have anything else to add. The Death Eater sympathisers orchestrated the attack on the stadium. They're planning more disruptions, and they're not just targeting your matches.

"Your source?"

"I can't reveal their identity. They would be marked for death if anyone discovered they had revealed information on the sympathiser's operations."

"Is it Pansy Parkinson?"

Draco's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Haven't spoken to her since the battle. She broke our engagement when our fortunes fell."

"Such a loyal woman." Harry leaned forward. "What do you want in exchange for your informant’s name? I'll be discreet."

Draco shook his head, but Narcissa spoke from the doorway. "Make Delphini the Black Heir."

"So she is a Black." Harry studied the baby's face. "Not yours or Andromeda's... which leaves Bellatrix."

Narcissa clutched Delphini closer to her chest, as if afraid he would hurt the baby.

"I won't harm innocent babies, regardless of who their parents are," Harry said quietly. "Who's the father? Lestrange?"

Narcissa's silence spoke volumes.

"Voldemort?" Harry barked a laugh. "Didn't know he could manage it. Thought he was missing more appendages than just his nose. Bet Bellatix’s husband loved being made a cuck by his master."

"Don't be crude," Narcissa snapped, colour rising in her pale cheeks.

Delphini smiled at Harry, revealing tiny teeth. Her dark eyes held none of her father's malice, only innocent curiosity. She had to be about a year old.

"No one can choose their parents," Harry sighed. "But I won’t give her the Black Heir position. That’s going to Teddy."

"Who?"

"Tonks and Remus' son."

Narcissa's lip curled. "Do you even possess the authority? You haven't claimed the Lordship."

Harry snapped his fingers. "You’re right. Perhaps I should remedy that oversight."

"Delphini deserves all the advantages that her Black heritage affords her,” Narcissa said. “She needs her own trust vault at the bare minimum."

"Fine, provided you don't help yourself to the gold."

Narcissa’s nostrils flared. "I’m not a thief, Mr Potter."

“If you say so.” Harry turned back to Draco. "Your informant?"

"Only if you promise to take them under your protection and provide for them first."

"Done. Where can I find them?"

"Return in a few days. It will take some time to convince them to meet you."

Harry stood, straightening his robes. "Excellent. This visit has been surprisingly pleasant. We should talk more often, Draco."

"Not bloody likely."

Harry stepped outside, still processing the conversation he had with the Malfoy’s. The revelation of Voldemort's daughter raised troubling questions about Narcissa's true motives. While her desire to protect Delphini seemed genuine, Harry couldn't ignore the political implications of a child who carried both Black and Voldemort’s blood.  If the information got out, there would be an uproar and Delphini may be put in danger. 

The Death Eater sympathisers disrupting Quidditch matches might react unpredictably to news of their fallen leader's heir, especially with an unnamed informant feeding information to Draco.

The Black lordship would grant him official authority over family matters, including Delphini's future. Gringotts would provide clarity on his options, along with the legal framework to protect both Teddy and Delphini's interests.

Harry refused to let prejudice or fear dictate his response to Delphini's existence. His childhood had taught him the cruelty of judging children for their parents' sins. Whatever complications arose from this situation, he would ensure both Teddy and Delphini received the protection and opportunities they deserved.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The cobblestones of Diagon Alley glistened from an early morning rain. Harry navigated through the crowd with Daphne and Ayano beside him, whilst Astoria darted ahead to press her nose against various shop windows.

"Let's start at Twilfit and Tattings," Harry suggested, guiding them towards the store. "I need formal robes, plus something rather specific."

The shop's interior welcomed them with the rich scent of cedar and fresh fabric. Their proprietor, Mr Twilfit himself, abandoned his work at the counter to greet them, an eager measuring tape coiled around his neck like an affectionate pet.

"Welcome, Mr Potter. How might we assist you today?"

Harry outlined his requirements whilst the girls wandered amongst the displays. "I'll need robes for formal events, plus something rather special. A uniform made from dragonhide, treated for maximum flexibility. The material needs to withstand extreme conditions, particularly high-speed flight."

He sketched out detailed specifications for his Tempest uniform. The design would incorporate dragon hide reinforced with cushioning charms throughout.

"Please, let me cover everything," Harry insisted as Daphne admired a midnight blue dress robe with silver accents. 

Their initial protests faded quickly amongst the tempting array of fabrics and styles. Knowing that he could easily afford it, they brought several articles of clothing for themselves.

Mr Twilfit promised them the clothes would be ready in the late afternoon. Only Harry’s uniform would take longer. As they emerged into the bustling street, a shout sliced through the general hubbub of shoppers.

"Daphne Amaryllis Greengrass!"

A tall woman strode towards them, her aristocratic features twisted with anger. Her blonde hair hung in an elegant chignon while expensive robes swirled around her feet. Her blue eyes—so like Daphne's—blazed with fury.

"Mother." Daphne's voice turned glacial. "What brings you to Diagon Alley?"

"Your absence from home brings me here." Cordelia Greengrass reached for Astoria's arm. "This ends now. You're both returning home."

Daphne stepped between them. "We're not going anywhere."

"You ungrateful child! After everything I've sacrificed—"

"Sacrificed?" Daphne's laugh held no warmth. "Like sacrificing Father to save yourself? Like watching Death Eaters torture him while you stood there and did nothing?"

"How dare you! I protected our family—"

"No, you protected yourself. As always."

"Enough." Harry's voice cut through their argument. The wind stirred around them, lifting fallen leaves in lazy spirals. "Mrs Greengrass, your daughters have made their choice."

Cordelia drew herself up. "This doesn't concern you, Potter."

"They're under my protection." The wind picked up slightly, tugging at her expensive robes. "Choose your next words carefully."

Something in his expression made her step back. "This isn't over, Daphne."

"Actually, it is," Daphne said. "I'm claiming the Greengrass Lordship today."

Cordelia's face whitened before she spun away, disappearing into the crowd.

“Your mother is a real piece of work,” Harry said. 

Daphne groaned. “Don’t get me started. Let’s not ruin the mood by discussing my mother any further.”  

They headed for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes next. The store wasn’t that busy at the moment, as their main clientele was at Hogwarts. It made most of its profits in the Summer holidays. They found George restocking Skiving Snackboxes. Though his smile still held traces of grief, life had returned to his eyes.

"Harry!" George ran over to him. "Why are you being a stranger? Mum's been asking about you.” 

"Been busy," Harry said, accepting George's backslapping hug. "Plus, it's awkward, with Ginny and everything."

"She's at Hogwarts now—no excuse not to visit." George waggled his eyebrows at Daphne, Ayano and Astoria. "Though I see why you've been occupied. Do you really think you could handle all three girls?"

"You bastard!" Astoria placed her hands on her hip. "I’m not in a relationship with Harry. I’m not going to share a guy with my sister. Gross."

Daphne palmed her wand. “Maybe we should teach him a lesson he won’t forget.” 

George raised his hands in mock surrender. "Feisty ones, mate. But seriously, come for dinner soon. Mum needs someone new to fuss over—she's driving Ron mental with it."

"I promise."

George grinned. “Great. Don’t think just because you broke up with Ginny that you aren’t still part of the family. You're an honorary Weasley.”

“As if Ron would ever let me forget it.”

Gringotts was their next destination. Daphne separated from their group to meet her account manager, with Astoria following behind her. Ayano told them she would be waiting at Fortescue’s. Ragnok escorted Harry through a maze of corridors to a private ritual chamber. Ancient tapestries lined the stone walls, depicting centuries of Black family history.

"The assumption of lordship requires several steps," Ragnok explained, placing an ornate box inlaid with the Black family crest upon a granite pedestal. "Beyond the ring's acceptance, you must acknowledge numerous responsibilities—management of family properties, oversight of business holdings, maintenance of political alliances, and protection of family members both acknowledged and unacknowledged."

The black diamond ring nestled on dark velvet, its silver band covered in intricate runes. As Harry lifted it, magic pulsed against his fingers whilst Ragnok continued his explanation.

"The Black family maintains alliances with several traditional families. As Lord Black, you become responsible for arbitrating their disputes and protecting their interests. Or you could choose to throw away these alliances and start anew."

Harry knew what option he wanted to take. But he wasn’t going to be hasty and go for the nuclear option until he had a good understanding of the Black family alliances.  

"Your bloodline through Dorea Potter grants your claim," Ragnok added. "Though you should know the ring sometimes exhibits... particular preferences about potential Lords."

Harry slipped the ring onto his right hand. "I, Harry James Potter, claim the Lordship of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, by right of blood and magic. I swear to uphold its honour and protect its members."

Magic flooded through him like a frozen river, memories and knowledge pouring into his mind—centuries of traditions, forgotten spells, and family secrets both glorious and terrible. The ring burned briefly before settling, accepting his claim.

"Congratulations, Lord Black," Ragnok said, revealing sharp teeth. "Shall we begin exploring the family’s financial situation?"

As soon as Harry had accepted the Black Lordship, Ragnok automatically became the manager of its accounts.  

"I want to establish trust vaults for two members of the Black family," Harry said. "Teddy Lupin and Delphini Riddle."

Ragnok’s eyebrows rose when he heard Delphini’s last name but didn’t comment. 

After they finalised the paperwork, they spent the next hour going over the accounts. Harry was overwhelmed by the sheer extent of the Black family's holdings. It was a complex network of investments, properties, and financial arrangements that comprised the Black family's considerable wealth. It far exceeded the Potter family's wealth, which was already substantial. 

“That’s enough,” Harry said, pushing away from the desk. “There’s no need to go over all of it at once, and I have prior engagements.”

“Very well,” Ragnok slammed the ledger shut. “Don’t forget that you have to nominate a representative for the Black seat in the Wizengamot. You can’t take up the role until you turn twenty-one.”

Harry nodded. He already knew someone who would be interested in the role. 

“Thanks, Ragnok. For now, maintain the current management strategy. I'll need time to understand the full scope of these assets."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The moment Harry, Daphne, and Astoria stepped from Gringotts' marble entrance, Diagon Alley transformed into a scene of terror. Sharp cracks of apparition punctuated the air like gunshots, as black-robed figures materialised in the alley. Shoppers scattered in waves of panic, their screams rising above the sudden commotion as parents clutched their children and shopkeepers slammed doors.

The Death Eaters moved with purpose, their wands already drawn. They converged on Harry's group, ignoring the fleeing crowd. 

"Inside. Now." Harry's voice cracked like a whip, shoving Daphne and Astoria towards the bank's entrance.

Daphne's blue eyes flashed. "I can fight—"

"No." The single word brooked no argument. "Get inside. You’re not a fighter."

As soon as the girls entered the bank, the goblins guarding the entrance locked the doors, wanting no part in the conflict. 

Ayano ran over, summoning Enraiha as she did so. “Who are they?"

"Death Eaters," Harry said grimly. 

The first curses screamed through the air. Harry's wind barrier materialised instantaneously, compressed air deflecting a sickly purple curse. Beside him, Ayano's fire erupted, creating a blazing perimeter that incinerated incoming spells.

"Spread out!" Harry commanded. Wind currents swept pedestrians into doorways, creating makeshift shelters as he and Ayano moved into combat positions.

A Death Eater launched a cutting curse. Harry's wind intercepted it mid-flight, slicing the spell in half. Ayano struck simultaneously with Enraiha, releasing a razor-sharp blade of fire that carved through the attacker's shields.

The battle transformed Diagon Alley into a war zone. Spell impacts shattered shop windows. Magical residue scorched stone walls. Harry moved like liquid lightning, wind currents propelling him between attackers, striking with surgical precision.

One Death Eater attempted a mass Blasting Curse. Harry's compressed air wall not only absorbed the explosion but redirected the energy, sending three attackers flying backwards. 

Ayano's flames danced around her, transforming from defensive walls to offensive weapons. She moved in perfect synchronisation with Harry, their combat styles complementing each other like a choreographed performance.

Realising they were outmatched, the remaining Death Eaters changed tactics. Instead of targeting Harry and Ayano, they began casting destructive spells at surrounding buildings and civilians.

"Bastards," Harry snarled.

A curse struck a nearby apothecary. Glass and wooden beams exploded outward. Harry caught the glass shards with his wind and sent them flying at the one responsible. The Death Eater screamed as he was struck by hundreds of sharp pieces of glass. 

Ayano's voice cut through the chaos. "We need to end this now."

One of the remaining Death Eaters unleashed Fiendfyre. Crimson and emerald flames shaped like monstrous serpents began consuming buildings, spreading with terrifying speed.

"Not good," Harry muttered.

The wind bow materialised in his hands. An arrow of pure compressed air, wrapped in Ayano's purifying flames, struck the Fiendfyre's core. The magical fire writhed, fighting against the combined elemental assault.

Harry's eyes blazed azure. Wind and fire merged, creating a containment sphere that slowly suffocated the magical inferno. Each breath required immense concentration, drawing the fire's energy into a compressed point.

With a final surge, the Fiendfyre collapsed. Smoking embers drifted where entire buildings had stood moments before.

The remaining Death Eaters apparated away, realising their attack had failed. The wounded on the ground also vanished soon after, triggered by what seemed like an automatic portkey that prevented them from being captured.

Silence descended.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated. Even though they won the fight, it didn’t feel like a victory.  

Beside him, Ayano extinguished her flames, her breathing laboured.

"Everyone alright?" Harry called, scanning the damaged alley.

Shopkeepers and shoppers emerged from their shelters, faces pale and hands trembling. The acrid smell of magical residue hung in the air, a testament to the violence that had just erupted.

Aurors apparated into the alley, the sound almost causing a mass panic. They were led by Senior Auror Ewan Ward. His steel-grey eyes swept the destruction, missing no detail. 

"Potter," Ward said. "What happened here?"

Harry's gesture encompassed the devastated alley. "Death Eater attack. They focused on us first, only turning to civilians when they realised they couldn't break through our defences."

Ward's eyebrow rose. "And who exactly comprises 'us'?"

The Gringotts' doors burst open. Two goblins emerged, their hands already gripping wickedly sharp daggers. Behind them, the Greengrass sisters appeared. Daphne and Astoria ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug.

"The Greengrass sisters," Harry replied. 

Ward frowned. “Do you think the attackers were targeting you or the sisters?”

Harry shrugged. “Hard to say. I have a lot of enemies, though. The attackers were Death Eater sympathisers, so it would make sense they would be out to get revenge.” 

He had some suspicions. The timing felt too convenient—just over an hour after Daphne's confrontation with her mother. If the woman was involved with the attackers, then she may have used them to bring her daughters in line.

An Auror approached, her report clipped and professional. "Sir, attack sites are clean. No magical signatures. Looks like an automatic portkey extraction."

Ward swore. "That makes my job a lot harder."

They began cleaning up the alley as the Aurors conducted interviews with the witnesses. Soon, the reporters arrived, making a nuisance of themselves as they tried to get a scoop. Harry didn’t bother with them, sending them away with a gentle gust of wind whenever they approached him. 

"I'll need a full statement," Ward said, approaching him after the majority of the cleanup had finished. 

"Of course,” Harry replied.  “Let me get the girls home and I will meet you at the Ministry.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The British and Irish Quidditch League's emergency meeting room buzzed with tension. Team owners, managers, and coaches crowded around a massive oak table, whispers and heated conversations creating a low drone of anxiety. Harry sat near the centre, his posture relaxed but eyes sharp.

Malcolm Drake, the league's chief administrator, called the meeting to order. His voice cut through the murmurs. "The incident at the Tornadoes stadium cannot be ignored. We are here to determine whether we need to take further action to protect the players’ and spectators' lives."

Philbert Deverill, owner of Puddlemere United, spoke first. "This is about Potter. It was no mistake that his stadium was targeted. He has a massive target painted on his back that threatens the players and the fans."

Harry's eyebrow rose. "How did you come to that conclusion? Where is your evidence?” 

“I don’t need it,” Deverill grunted. “It’s an obvious conclusion to make.”

Iggy snorted. “Why didn’t you show the same concern when you sent an offer to Harry for him to join your team?"

Deverill’s face turned red. “I wasn’t aware of all the facts at the time.”

“Or maybe you're trying to get rid of the competition,” Iggy countered. “Always knew you couldn’t trust a snake”

Before Deverill could respond, the door slammed open. A stern-faced witch in deep purple robes entered—an ICW representative. 

"I am Elara Marchbanks," she announced. "Representative from the International Confederation of Wizards."

The room fell silent.

"Mr Potter," Marchbanks continued, "the ICW believes your continued participation in professional Quidditch poses a significant risk to the Statute of Secrecy."

Drake leaned forward. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Your player attracts attention that could expose our world," Marchbanks said. "The recent stadium incident, combined with his... unusual abilities, makes him a liability."

Harry's voice was calm. "I wasn't responsible for the attack. In fact, I stopped it from becoming far worse."

"Precisely our concern," she responded. "Your intervention itself creates exposure. The magical community cannot afford such public displays."

"He saved lives,” Iggy interjected. “How is that a problem?"

Marchbanks' lips thinned. "Every time Mr Potter uses his abilities, he risks exposing magic to the non-magical world. The fireworks incident, the stadium panic—these are precisely the type of events we seek to avoid."

Harry laughed. "What absolute nonsense. Is this truly how the International Confederation of Wizards intends to target me? Are they still nursing wounded pride after I walked out of their interrogation?"

Marchbanks drew herself up. "I represent the broader interests of the magical community, Mr Potter. This is not a personal vendetta."

The room's atmosphere shifted perceptibly as Harry's eyes transformed from emerald to a piercing azure. A sudden wind emerged from his body, sending parchments swirling across the table like autumn leaves. Marchbanks' complexion blanched, and she instinctively retreated a step. The other league representatives remained conspicuously silent, unwilling to interpose themselves between Harry and the ICW representative.

"The International Confederation of Wizards lacks the jurisdictional authority to interfere with the Quidditch League," Harry said. "Not without presenting substantial, empirical evidence demonstrating a genuine threat to the Statute of Secrecy. So I ask you directly: do you have such evidence? If not, I suggest you remove yourself from this proceedings."

Malcolm Drake, ever the diplomatic administrator, intervened before Marchbanks could formulate a response. "Mr Potter articulates the situation precisely, Mrs Marchbanks. Your argument lacks substantive foundation, and furthermore, you were not invited to this meeting. I recommend you take your objections elsewhere."

Marchbanks surveyed the room, searching desperately for allies. While a few faces showed mild sympathy, the overwhelming majority remained impassive or subtly supportive of Harry. Recognising her isolation, she left after sending Harry one final glare.

Drake exhaled heavily, massaging his temple. "Now that we've addressed that interruption, shall we return to our primary agenda? We must develop a comprehensive security strategy that protects both our players and our spectators."

Iggy outlined his proposed security measures. "Enhanced magical detection at stadium entrances. Improved ward systems. Dedicated security teams trained in threat response."

"And who pays for this?" Deverill demanded. "These measures would cost the League millions."

"The league could split costs," Harry suggested. "Each team contributes proportionally."

Heated discussions erupted. Some owners supported the plan, seeing it as necessary protection. Others saw it as an unnecessary expense.

"You're asking us to fundamentally change how we operate," complained Artemis Graves, owner of the Appleby Arrows. "Because of one incident?"

"Not one incident," Harry corrected. "I believe this is only the first of many."

The meeting dragged on for another hour with no resolution. The other owners dismissed Harry's warnings, treating the stadium attack as an isolated incident. Harry felt his frustration build as his arguments fell on deaf ears.

"We can't justify these expenses without concrete proof of an ongoing threat," Drake concluded, shuffling his papers. 

"So we wait until someone dies?" Harry's fingers drummed against the table. "Until an attack succeeds?"

Deverill snorted. "Your paranoia doesn't dictate league policy, Potter."

Harry stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Remember this moment when the next attack comes. Remember you had a chance to prevent it."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Harry returned to Malfoy Manor. The house-elf led him to Draco's study where a face he barely recognised awaited him—Lilith Moon. 

She'd been in their year at Hogwarts, a quiet Slytherin who'd kept to the edges of their social circles. Her dark hair hung in a neat plait down her back, and her grey eyes held a wariness that spoke of difficult years.

"Potter," she said, perching on the edge of her chair. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"Vaguely. You kept to yourself at school."

"Safer that way." Her fingers intertwined with Draco's on the desk. 

Harry's eyebrows rose. "You're together?"

"It’s only a recent development," Draco said, his usual sneer softened when he looked at her. "She helped me... after everything."

Harry studied Lilith's face. "Are you feeling quite alright? Dating Malfoy suggests questionable judgment."

"Watch it, Potter," Draco growled.

Lilith's lips twitched. "He grows on you. Like a fungus."

"Charming," Draco muttered. "If you two are finished insulting me..."

"Never," Harry said cheerfully, before his expression turned serious. "Now tell me about these attacks."

Lilith detailed her involvement with the sympathisers—initially drawn in by curiosity about what remained of the pure-blood movement. 

"It started as political meetings, discussing how to preserve traditions. Then the talk turned darker."

"How so?"

"Plans to disrupt the new order. To remind everyone that pure-blood ideology hasn't died." She shivered. "Everyone wears masks, even during meetings. But their leader..." 

"What about them?"

"I suspect they know more than they are letting on. I’m afraid that my identity has already been exposed."

Harry nodded. "So, you can't just leave."

"Not safely," Draco interjected. "That's why she came to me."

"What else can you tell me?" Harry asked.

Lilith leaned forward. "We only meet every two weeks, and the meeting place changes every time. I’m afraid the meetings will be even more sporadic as the attacks increase.” 

“Do you know where the next attack will be?” 

Lilith nodded. “They're planning another attack this weekend. The Pride of Portree versus Appleby Arrows game."

"Sunday's match?" 

"Yes. I don't know the specifics, but it'll be bigger than the Tornadoes incident. They're angry about failing to cause real damage last time."

"Right after my match on Saturday," Harry muttered. “It will allow me to attend the game and prevent any incidents from happening.”

As Harry stood to leave, Draco stopped him. “You promised to protect her. She can’t stay here. Malfoy Manor isn’t the safest place.”  

“I will once I have confirmed her information is accurate,” Harry said. “Until then, I suggest you stay hidden.”

Narcissa intercepted him in the entrance hall, Delphini cradled against her shoulder. 

"The Black lordship ring," she said, nodding to his hand. "Have you arranged anything for her?"

"The trust vault is set up." Harry held out his arms, and after a moment's hesitation, Narcissa passed him the baby. 

Delphini grabbed at his fingers, giggling as he conjured tiny wind spirals to dance around her head. Her dark eyes sparkled with delight, showing none of her father's malevolence. 

"She likes you," Narcissa said softly as he handed Delphini back. 

“Voldemort would be rolling around in his grave if he knew," Harry joked. He turned to leave but paused at Narcissa's voice.

"Could you give Andromeda a message? Tell her I'd like to speak with her. To try and repair things. Delphini should know her cousin."

Harry studied her face, searching for any sign of deception. The proud pure-blood witch he'd known would never have lowered herself to ask favours, especially regarding her 'blood traitor' sister.

"I'll pass it on. But don't expect a miracle."

"I know." Narcissa's arms tightened around Delphini. "But family is all we have left. The war took everything else."

Harry nodded once before stepping out into the gathering dusk. Another piece had been added to the puzzle, but the full picture remained frustratingly unclear. At least he had a chance to prevent the next attack.

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry tries to prevent a major incident.

Thanks for reading.