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There Be Dragons, Harry	By : Scioneeris Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58400 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 27
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of its characters. I make no money by writing this story..

Chapter List
- 48
- 49
- 50
See first chapter for disclaimers/warnings/summaries.

NOTE: This chapter features Arthur and the Weasley kids, Theo, Severus and Terius. This is another SUBPLOT Chapter. Things will even out to half and half between Harry and everyone else by the next chapter. Seals for the Weasley kids come off next chapter as well.

RECAP: In Nevarah, Harry is sleeping after sharing some of his past with Theo and Charlie. Arthur, Percy, Ron, Fred, George all turn up on the doorstep of an unplottable manor, to meet the Weasley Torvak Patriarch-Arthur's father, Septimus. An elaborate ritual is taken between Father and son before Arthur is allowed to enter Weasley manor and plead his case. His family is receptive and they intend to help him. Meanwhile, Theo cannot sleep after Harry's revelations and realizes something about his Slytherin Head of House, so seeks out Severus to ask him a necessary question...

NEVARAH : TERIUS SNAPE'S HOME : TUESDAY EVENING (Nevarah Time)

It took a minute longer than he expected, but from the soft murmurings that were abruptly silenced, Theo surmised that Severus was arguing with Terius. It seemed that was what they did most of these days. He wondered, inwardly, why Draco hadn't had any further inclinations before carrying their first child.

Most mateships waited until they were complete before children entered the equation. It bothered him, faintly.

The bedroom door clicked open and a scowling, weary Severus Snape glowered down at him. "Mr. Nott." He drawled—how he could drawl when still half-sleep was an amazing feat in its own—but his glare was perfectly effortless. "To what do I owe the pleasure at this abominable hour?"

"Did you know?" Theo forced himself to speak calmly and rationally. Emotions would only ruin this and he didn't really have the energy to spare for being emotional tonight. Or today. He was pretty sure it was practically morning already. He'd lost track of time.

"You shall have to be more specific. I assure you I know a great deal more than your-"

"Delores Umbridge used a blood quill in her detentions. I realized that I cannot ever recall any Slytherin ever having a private detention with her that year. Malfoy went wild to be on her good side, traipsing about with that ridiculous excuse of a club and then there was that—confrontation with—but none of us. There were horror stories aplenty, but none within the dungeons. We served all of our detentions with you that year. No one else. Not even Filch. You all but swallowed us whole if we dared to bring trouble in any way that did not fit the Slytherin house. So I am asking you, because I need to know. Did you know?"

Severus stared down at him, impassively. "I would ask what prompted this, but my curiosity is neither so-"

"Did. You. Know?" Theo snapped.

"What is it you wish to ask of me, Mr. Nott?"

"I want to know if you knew what that wretched woman was up to!"

"And if I did?"

"Did you tell no one else?"

Those aristocratic eyebrows arched upwards, elegantly. "I beg your pardon?" He said, imperiously.

That was answer enough. Theo felt a sudden, stabbing pain registering somewhere in his stomach. It reeked, faintly, of betrayal. For this man standing before him, more wizard than man, had been there for him countless times in the past few years. A man with so many secrets and so many layers, that it was nearly impossible to know anything of him—and yet, it hurt. "You knew and you told no one?"

"There was nothing to tell."

"That is not nothing!"

"It did not affect you. My duty was complete." Severus bit off. "To whom should I have shared such…things, with? Pray tell, Mr. Nott."

Theo opened and shut his mouth. There were many things he knew and many things he didn't. There was an equal amount of things that he knew he would never understand, either. This, perhaps, was one of them. He hadn't thought it would actually hurt.

Severus' glower deepened by several degrees. "If you have wakened me for a half-baked argument out of some misguided-"

"It is far too early for insults, Severus." Terius chided, gliding up behind the Potions master, also clad in a black, silken dressing gown. He slid his arms around the Alpha from behind, hugging him and resting his chin on Severus' shoulder. His expression was tired, but indulgent and his face was lightly flushed as if he had been doing anything but sleeping. He flashed a small smile to Theo—soft, welcoming, tempered. "Theo."

"I am not a huggable-" Severus began, bristling at the touch in the presence of an audience, even as Terius' ministrations eased a single wrinkle from his brow.

Terius calmly pressed a kiss to the exposed patch of skin on the Potions Master's neck as if in forgiveness. He nuzzled it gently, a second later, asking a silent apology. "I take it Harry's trip to the healers was enlightening?" He inquired—this was directed to Harry, as if having a conversation while feeling up Severus was a perfectly normal thing.

Theo blinked. "How did-?" He shook his head. There was no connection between his conversation and Harry. Well, not an obvious one anyway, and he really did not want to see what he might have interrupted.

"We waited up for you, but Draco tired and Calida did not wish to sleep alone." Terius shrugged, his arms tightening around Severus. "Is there something that you needed from—Severus?" He stopped and looked to the black armful of wizard he held.

Severus had become rather pale and his entire body had frozen, as if in shock, no longer fighting the impromptu embrace.

Theo's golden gaze narrowed. "You could have said something." He hissed. "You could have told the other heads of house."

"Potter?" Severus licked his lips. The black eyes were dark, piercing and sharp, demanding answers in that typical way.

"He prefers Harry." Terius said, exasperatedly. "Would it really pain you to address the boy with-" He looked to Theo in puzzlement as the young man made a strangled sound in his throat. "What?"

"They removed a Blood Seal today." Theo said, neutrally. "A Blood Seal. Imagine that. I couldn't think for a moment, where one might acquire something like that, especially while attending the esteemed Hogwarts Academy of witchcraft and wizardry."

The paleness grew to a startling whiteness. "A Blood Seal?" Severus repeated, hoarsely.

"Severus?" Terius released him at once and turned his Alpha to face him, searching his face rapidly for any interpretable signs. He frowned, turning to Theo. "Kitchen. Now." He ordered, casting a weary glance over his shoulder and into the room where Draco and Calida slumbered peacefully, cuddling the same pillow between them.

WEASLEY MANOR : UNPLOTTABLE : TUESDAY MORNING (Earth Time)

Fred woke the next morning to find himself sleeping in the middle of a bed shared amongst as his fellow siblings. It took a moment for the strangeness to register. He blinked, staring upwards to an unfamiliar vaulted ceiling and then frowned when he could not place his new surroundings. It took him a scant few seconds to realize that there were things and other stuff that didn't quite make sense.

The redhead rolled over from his stomach to settle on his back instead. His busy mind flickered back and forth, before finally finding the information his wakening self desired.

And then he remembered.

His father's serious confession.

His mother's crying face.

The ridiculous rituals and rules they'd had to follow to find an unplottable manor.

Admission into Weasley Manor.

Acceptance by the Head of house for their clan—Septimus Weasley.

Septimus Weasley, also known as his grandfather.

Bilius and Felix Weasley—two uncles he'd never known he'd had.

A strangely satisfying expression on his father's face—one that he'd never seen before.

Fred stared, unblinking, up at the dreary vaulted ceiling and wondered at the time. Instinct told him to draw as little attention to himself as he gathered his bearings together, so he didn't move beyond a few precious inches. Something grabbed a hold of him and held on for dear life. Fred snorted.

He identified the warmth clinging to him as George—his twin was always something of a cuddler—and Merlin, he'd never been able to coax him out of the habit. The lump behind him turned out to be a scowling Percy, who—yes—did indeed scowl in his sleep, and Ron was sprawled across the remainder of the large bed, one arm and leg hanging out the edge.

It took another snort to keep him from rolling his eyes, knowing Ron's recent fussiness of late, Fred could guess that he'd griped and moaned about being stuck in the middle so that Percy would give up his usual spot simply for some peace and quiet. He could vaguely remember his father and his uncles—Merlin, he had more uncles now—carrying them to bed and wishing them a goodnight's rest.

He'd wanted to know how they could possibly have a goodnight's rest, but he hadn't been about to ask when he'd felt his father kiss his forehead and murmur several words in Latin.

As far as Fred could recall, he'd never known his father to do that. Mum was always the one with the hugs, the kisses and the occasional smack to his bum—either with her own hand or by decree of her famed wooden spoon. Her soft brown eyes lingered in his mind's eye and he felt a distinct, peculiar ache for her. It made him hot, bothered and frustrated on a level that he could not quite understand.

George nuzzled his twin's stomach, cuddling even closer with a sleepy sigh.

Fred rolled his eyes and shifted the covers to reach down and thump said twin on the head. He would permit the cuddling while sleeping—because he had no other choice—and because he knew it kept certain nightmares at bay. Nightmares that George would never speak about, but images that would haunt him throughout the day. For the night, he'd tolerate it, but most certainly never while he was awake.

He'd decided that it didn't matter after their tenth birthday. They were twins. He was old enough that it no longer bothered him. He'd always look out for George. He couldn't possibly do otherwise, not when his twin readily did the same for him, without so much as a second-thought.

He waited for the thump to register, hand still fisted in case a second dose was necessary.

It was not.

There was the typical freezing—as the relaxed sleeping body tensed and came to wakefulness—then George would inevitably freeze and after a long, silent moment, disengage himself from his living pillow.

"Gred." George mumbled, sleepily. "Was a nice dream. Y'ruined it." His twin yawned and stretched with slow, calculated movements.

Fred snorted, but took note of the morning address. Just because he was in a cynical mood that morning, didn't mean that George would copy that. If they didn't settle on a suitable attitude compromise between the pair of them, it would be painstakingly easy to tell them apart. "Morning to you too, Forge." He grunted—and silently counted in his head. He could count himself as the more outgoing one in their twinship, but George was just as singular and unique in his own way. Fred had been waiting since yesterday for the meltdown that hadn't shown itself yet. It was bound to happen soon. He was just barely holding back his own.

And one, and two and, three and-!

George sat bolt upright in bed with a yelp that woke Percy, who sent Ron tumbling off the bed and to the ground.

His mind certainly connected the dots much quicker than he had, Fred thought gloomily as he reacted out of instinct. "Forge?" He grabbed his twin 'round the waist before his distraught brother could also topple off the edge of the bed and to the cold floor. "Thought you said it was a good dream." He huffed.

"It wasn't a nightmare." George fought for a second and then relaxed. He twitched and pulled free of Fred's loose embrace. "It's…it's real, isn't it?"

"You woke me for that miraculous revelation?" Percy muttered, groggily. "Merlin, why me?"

"I ask myself that every morning." Fred shot back.

"Owww…" Ron whined from the floor. "It's cold down here."

"…and he's still sleeping." George yawned, chuckled and yawned again. The faintest hint of light touched his eyes and he patted Fred's head as he slid out from beneath the tangle of sheets and duvet. He stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders and neck for a moment. "Nice room." The hawk-like eyes took in every quick detail. "First dibs on the bath."

Fred didn't even bother to stop him.

If George wanted to have his little meltdown on his own—that was fine with him.

That uncomfortable twinge in his chest, deepened to a very realistic pang.

A painfully eerie screech replayed itself in his mind—a screech where his mother had screamed and Harry—Harry had split the earth open in two.

Fred winced.

Breakfast among the Weasleys wasn't too different from what they were used to, Percy noted. At least, coming from The Burrow, there was the usual bustle of too many people in too-small a space. The scent of food wafting through the air, every kind of dish imaginable and voices shouting back and forth to each other.

Various redheads and brunettes stumbled into the small line of Weasleys making their way towards the dining room table as the note left on their nightstand had instructed.

Percy managed to keep his errant siblings mostly in line and as respectful as could be hoped for them. His father was nowhere to be found, but the everpresent and constantly moving Cedrella Weasley—his grandmother—the oldest Weasley child mentally reminded himself, was present and she caught sight of them as they hurried by.

There were house elves busily working away and breakfast appeared on the long, rectangular table, heirloom dishes gleaming in the sunlight dining room. The dining room opened into the kitchen where busy hands and feet worked steadily. Cedrella herself bustled in and around the house elves, in a strangely sort of coordinated dance that didn't seem the least bit unnatural.

"Morning boys!" She called out, cheerfully. "Did you sleep well? Are you hungry? Your father's a tad busy, he'll be here in a second. Sit down where you've a mind to." And without a second glance, she dived back into the bustling kitchen once more.

Percy looked from her to the positively enormous dining table and swallowed. He reminded himself to buck up and take it in stride, after all, a bit of finery wasn't something to throw the wheels. "Ron, stop that!" He growled at the gawking younger boy. He knew his kid brother could wrestle his child-like mind into the cunning, strategic mind that they all seemed to possess—if he had a mind to. Currently, it didn't seem like he had a mind to.

A look to the twins didn't particularly leave him feeling any more hopeful for a decently turned out family in the absence of his parents, as the twins were very much their own entity and without Bill, Charlie and Ginny around, this stood out more than usual. It worried him, slightly to note the mismatched scowls on their faces. Fred—or was it George—they were far too good at trading places that he'd eventually given up trying to tell them apart. He was sure there was a secret to it, but he'd never ask them and his older siblings had never volunteered the knowledge. One of them, he decided, irritably, was upset about something and the other wasn't quite all there yet.

Wonderful.

Percy sighed. He would be missing a day of work today, but he'd put in for a desperately needed week off—at his father's insistence and had yet to slow down and process half of the news that had been shoved on them all. He scowled, classically.

Fred-or-George elbowed him. "Eating lemons so early?" The teasing was more mocking than anything.

"Stand straight and at least try to respectable!" Percy shot back. He passed the elbowing down to the still-gawking Ron. "Did Bill come last night?"

George-or-Fred snorted. "If he did, then he'd be here, dontcha think?"

"Seppy." Cedrella leaned out from her position near a full kitchen counter to turn and plant a full kiss on her husband's lips. Her hands were still buried in a bowl of dough, up her elbows, half-covered in flower, even as one of the elves around her tried to spell it from her robes. "Morning, louse." She greeted.

"Ceddy." He returned, delivering a smack to the bum for that cheeky comment. "Morning to you too."

She winked at him. "Do tell your grandchildren to sit down. They're all looking at me as if I'm about to devour them whole and I swear I wouldn't." Her smile grew wider. "I could not convince them to have a seat, but the others are coming in, Teritus and Primus are missing. I assume you sent one of them for the missing lad?"

"I'd be worried too, if I saw all of that." Septimus retorted, he'd snuck a glance at the fully dressed table and gave a slight shake of his head. "There's no need for such formalities." He squinted. "I sent Tertius, he has the best manners out of us all."

"Manners my foot!" His wife snorted, a rather unladylike sound. "If that man sets foot in my house again with that ridiculous-!"

"I shall warn him."

"Septimus!"

He kissed her cheek. "I swear I shall warn him or ban him."

She huffed. "Fine. But there's nothing wrong with the table-"

"Do you want them to eat or die from indigestion?"

"They wouldn't die from-"

"They would." He interrupted, calmly. "And you'll scare them silly before we've even started." He sighed. "Merlin knows it's going to be a bad day." A grim line stole over his face. "Have the elves change the table settings, hmm?" He turned to go.

"But Artie's here and he deserves a-!"

He silenced her with another kiss, this one a tad longer and deeper than before. He finished with a peck to her nose. "Artie is out in the training ground, having his head handed to him on a silver platter." He corrected. "And you know as well as I do, that our son never cared for finery and all its frippery."

Her smile was brilliant as she spun back around to blend into the kitchen frenzy.

Septimus smiled to himself, turning back to face the line-up of Weasley children along the dining room wall. They were clearly uncomfortable and rather ill-at-ease, though they each showed it in a different way.

The eldest, Percy, was so perfectly straight and postured, if he didn't look clearly and deeply into the lad's eyes, he wouldn't have known just how much fear hung in the air.

The twins were near mirrors of each other, except for one, George—or was it Fred—seemed to have a deeper scowl than the other. They stood mostly straight at attention and neither would meet his gaze. That was quite curious. Septimus filed it away for later thought.

Ron shifted uncertainly and swallowed hard as he became the object of attention.

There was something about the youngest male that did not set well with him, but Septimus did not think too deeply on it. He wished to reserve judgment until he knew his grandchildren a little better and there were still three missing, from Arthur's admission. The eldest, William—if he recalled correctly—was due to arrive, along with his Veela fiancé, that was a nice addition to their family he mused.

Much better than Dragel trappings. He scowled. Listening to Arthur's sad tale the night before, he found himself wishing he had done more than simply protest when his favorite son had started seeing the witch. She'd managed to let the second-eldest son escape—and from the pensieved memory that Arthur had reluctantly consented to, Septimus knew that the missing Charlie was most certainly Dragel-kind. There would be no hope of returning him to Dragel-roots. He sighed. It had been heart-breaking though, to set eyes on Ginevra, or Ginny, as they called her, the first daughter amongst the Weasleys in years. There were almost always sons, at least, in the pureblooded lines.

Here, the Head of House scowled, darkly. This was a sordid mess Arthur had brought him. It would take time to undo all that was done.

"Septimus?" One dark-haired redhead appeared at the kitchen doorway. "Did you see what was happening in the courtyard?"

"Which part of it?" Septimus perked a brow. "The one where two of my sons are trying to behead the third or the one where my lovely daughter-in-laws are intent on digging a pit to the neverrealms?"

"They are?" The fellow perked up quite visibly. "I don't suppose my daughter would happen to be with them, would she?"

Septimus thought for a moment, recalling the visual on demand. "Hmm, I don't believe so." He blinked. "Who's winning?" Arthur had seemed woefully out of practice as he'd dressed this morning in the more formal wizarding attire that the Torvak favored. Septimus had paused to straighten his cravat return the cufflinks that bore the Weasley family crest—the ones that had always been specially crafted for Arthur alone.

Here, the man cracked a smile. "Artie, of course. It's good to see the boy back, he's honest, isn't he?"

Here, the Weasley Patriarch looked up sharply, his pale blue eyes blazing. "Mark your words carefully, Primus." He said, stiffly. "You may be my oldest brother, but you are no more exempt than Arthur is, merely for the matter of blood."

Primus stepped aside as the newly infuriated Septimus swept past in a swirl of his wizarding robes.

Cedrella sighed. "Did you have to do that one, love?" She leaned out from the kitchen section again to accept a kiss to her cheek and give one in return. "How is-"

"She's fine. Sulking, but fine." Primus gave a thin smile. "My darling wife will eventually manage to come to some ridiculous conclusion to allow her to save face and then, we shall see her again. Which is why I am here in the first place." He cast a glance towards the dining room table. "News carries quickly and I had to see."

Cedrella wrinkled her nose and handed off her mixing bowl to an available elf, standing with her arms held out to be properly spelled clean. "Which means if you're here, then it was that idiot Tertius sent off to retrieve William."

"Ah, so he will come?"

"I dislike speaking in riddles, Primus." She said, stiffly. "Either speak plainly, that which you mean to say or do not speak at all." She checked her hands, as if looking for any stray specks of flour or sugar. "Shall I introduce you to the grandchildren or do you know them all, already, seeing as William has made such an impression?"

"He works as a curse-breaker for Gringotts." Primus said, smoothly. "That is admirable work."

"Admirable how?" Cedrella shot back. "You'd best not have been tampering where you haven't a mind to."

"And if I was, I would have done it in a way as not to be caught out—least of all by you." He offered his arm to his sister-in-law. "I assume the council is postponed for now?"

"Probably." She mused, taking his arm. "Septimus was tossing and turning all night over this. He says if something of this magnitude could happen, then it means Dragels are waking and we—we will have to fight again, Primus." She shuddered, a pale, gaunt look settling over her pretty features. "I loathe the days of war."

"Perhaps it is only a passing moment." He soothed, his hand resting over hers. "Let us hope for the children's sake."

"Yes, for the children indeed."

In the outside courtyard—divided in two—the loud clashing and banging of wooden training staffs filled the air. On one side of the pit, two young women in tunics and leggings tucked into boots, sparred with each other in practiced ease. On the opposite end of the pit, three redheaded brothers engaged in far more vicious staffplay.

"I'm surprised you had time to practice!" Bilius called out. He ducked and circled, taking the opening that Felix left for him. "I'd think you'd have been too busy between all those children and the wife."

"I'm surprised you haven't improved at all." Arthur shot back. "It was no hardship to practice."

"Less talking and more fighting." Felix admonished. "Arthur, keep your chin tucked—you still have it as if—oof!" He grunted as the tip of Arthur's staff connected solidly with his stomach. "On second thought, I'll keep my suggestions to myself."

"See that you do." Arthur retorted. "I haven't practiced in years and yet, two on one?"

"It's fair." Bilius snapped. "It's more than fair."

"If it's a fight you're spoiling for, I'm happy to oblige!" Arthur's soft hazel eyes narrowed meaningfully. "My mind may be slow, but my body remembers."

"Indeed it does." Felix blocked the next blow and spun back, allowing Bilius to step in. "Done warming up then?"

"Indeed." Bilius laughed.

The fight began.

Two against one was certainly quite one-sided—on Arthur's side—there were brief moments of hesitation, a few lucky strikes and moments where it seemed like he would not be able to retaliate. But for the few blows landed, he delivered equal and double the measure, his strikes swift, sure and deadly. Felix was the first to bow out when Arthur disarmed and pinned him, Bilius was the last to remain.

Circling each other, the two brothers started forward, Bilius with a downward strike, Arthur with a side-swipe. With a flick of the wrist and a little extra twist, Bilius' staff flew to the dusty ground several yards away. Arthur dodged the few physical blows and within a matter of seconds, floored his youngest brother and pinned him down, the staff pressing heavily into his neck.

"Give." Arthur hissed, softly. "Surrender."

Amber eyes glittered with hostility. "Never!"

Arthur pressed a little harder, his face impassive, knowing fully well what the staff was doing to his youngest brother. It wasn't his real staff—that he would not receive until the Council deemed him worthy of it. This was just an ordinary practice staff, slightly roughened from use, uneven in its carving and hardly weighted at all.

It was pure humiliation.

"Give. In." Arthur repeated, keeping the pressure constant. "If not for my sake, then we shall do this again, but I ask of you not to hold my misdeeds against my children."

"Blood traitor!" Bilius gasped. "You left for that rotten-"

"Enough, Bilius-!" Cedrella's voice came from the left. "And let him up, Arthur. Now!"

The authority in her voice demanded that they both obey, but it wasn't until Septimus bent down to pick up Bilius' fallen staff, that both sons broke away to track his movements. Septimus hefted the staff in his hand and then calmly threw it to his wife.

In the moment where it had left his hand to hers, Arthur sprang up and backwards from his crouched position over his brother. He was caught around the shoulders and waist by Felix, who gently pried the practice staff from his younger brother's hands, despite Arthur's sound of protest. Felix tossed the staff to his mother, who then dropped Bilius' own by the youngest Weasley's side.

Cedrella skipped back a few steps, hefting the practice staff in her hand and inclining her head to the fallen son. "On your feet, Bilius and be quick about it." She tucked a stray curl behind one ear. "I left something baking in the kitchen."

The duel between Mother and Son was over in a matter of minutes. It was easy to see that Arthur had learned his staffwork from his mother, who was just as quick and light on her feet as he had been. The strength behind the blows was visible only in the slight tremor of Bilius' arms as he countered, blocked and stuck in a patterned set of moves.

He was cornered, disarmed and floored in short order.

Cedrella merely stood over him this time, an expression of disappointment on her pretty face. "When the staff teaches us a lesson," She murmured, the tip touched lightly to Bilius' exposed throat. "We learn it and move on. We do not fight it."

Bilius swallowed and nodded.

"Verbal answer, please." Septimus called from his watchful post near the edge of the courtyard.

"We do not fight it." He repeated.

"Good lad." She offered him a hand and perked a brow until he took it. She soothed the defeat with a kiss to the cheek and a ruffle of his hair. "Don't hold grudges you don't want to." She searched the simmering amber eyes. "Arthur was always your favorite brother, wasn't he? Give him a chance." She sent him off to wash-up with a quick smack.

He yelped and danced away, shooting an injured look over one shoulder.

Felix snickered softly and finally released Arthur from the vise-like grip he'd started the moment Arthur had made a move to interfere. "There, that wasn't o bad, was it?" He brightened, looking up. "Uncle Tertius!"

A black-feathered form drew closer overhead, bearing two armfuls.

Within a matter of a minute, the feathered form became the man in question as he touched down in mid-air, setting his precious bundles unsteadily on their feet. His lighter, bronze-tinged hair was a change from the typical Weasley red, but the same warm-brown eyes shone in the familiar face as Bill and Fleur were deposited on the courtyard. "Felix. Septimus, Cedrella." He acknowledged. "I found them, the trip was a tad tricky." He frowned. "There's hellhounds prowling about out there." He gave a jerk of his head to the sky as his black-wings shuddered and slowly shrank away, folding back into him. The folds of his robes settled back where they ought to.

"Dad!" Bill surged forward, after quickly checking over Fleur who looked rather green from the method of transportation. "What's going on? What happened? Where's Mum and the others?"

Arthur gladly folded his eldest son into a warm hug. "It's a long story." He managed at last, reluctantly including Fleur in the hug when Bill tugged her along as well. "A long story. I'm glad you're safe." Suddenly, Arthur wanted to be back inside the manor and as closely surrounded by all his children as possible.

By the time Bill was brought up to speed and everyone was introduced all around, it was quite close to lunchtime and a few tempers were spiking over their natural marks. Several representatives from the Noble families had come on behalf of their Heads of House or the Council, the news of Arthur's return having spread rapidly during the night.

Septimus wearily calmed them down, with pointed looks to his own brothers, a few glowers to those in higher rankings and a deliberate hand on his wife's shoulder, sensing she was about to hex a few of them senseless. "I understand there is a great deal of…business to be taken care of, before this is acceptable, however, in the light that these are children here-" he gave an apologetic nod to Bill at that. "-bearing Dragel seals, surely you understand that time is of the essence?"

They grumbled amongst themselves, but no one could argue that. For the Torvaks, Children were rare and precious things. The Weasley clan was by far the most prosperous in terms of their many children, every other generation. Other clans were not quite as lucky. To have five potential Torvaks present was cause for cooperation.

"Have you viewed the seals?" This came from Heron, a young man of slender build, bearing the crest from the Orwitch family. "Can they be removed?"

"They are suppression and restraining seals." Arthur spoke up then. He'd gathered his children around them and now, sat with a rather worried Ron, in his lap. "They are three-fold and were cast at birth."

"Three-fold?" Tertius' wife, Amanda spoke up, with narrowed eyes. "That is ridiculous! Unheard of. No individual can cast three separate seals on a singular being without severe consequences—and to insinuate that this—wife-" the title was spat out. "-could manage seven of them," Amanda drew herself up. "Was she mad?"

"Spell at conception, ritual at birth and a potion afterwards." Arthur continued, as if he'd never been interrupted.

Cedrella pressed a hand to her mouth as if to stay the cry that threatened to escape. "I suppose she had to cover every trace, yes?"

Amanda scoffed, but the weary look in her eye seemed to take on a slightly mad glint of its own. "Even if she did manage to cast it, surely it is not so hard to remove them?"

"Torvak seals, yes." Heron spoke, haltingly. "But Lady Amanda, these are Dragel-seals, I would wager they are sealed in blood, correct?"

Amanda paled considerably, as did several of the other members present in the room. "Dark magic!" She whispered, staring at the children in horror. "She used dark magic on children!" She turned to her husband. "Does the witch live?"

"Amanda!" Tertius grabbed her arms, giving a slight shake. "Get a hold of yourself, woman!" His voice was calm and controlled. "That is not our quest to worry of. No sentence has been given-" he looked to Septimus for confirmation. "And so we will do nothing. Right now, we must concentrate on these children." He frowned. "There may be hope for the daughter as well, if she is a year younger as you say." He frowned. "Did she tell you anything else, Arthur?"

"She said she did the rituals on her own and bore the marks that were necessary." He heaved a sigh. "She also said…" he trailed off, this last admission weighing more heavily on him than anything else.

"Yes?" Septimus encouraged. He squeezed his wife's shoulder when her hand came to rest on his.

"She said that—Albus Dumbledore helped her cast them."

More cries of outrage rose up around the room and Arthur sat tall and proud, even as his children shifted to lean closer to him.

"Well, there's nothing I can do about it." Heron said at last. He stepped back from Bill, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. "Blood magic is blood magic." And here, he quickly traced a sign in the air and bowed his head, quickly.

"Forbidden arts." Amanda murmured. She repeated the same sign and touched it to her forehead. "Can it not be broken?"

"The light will always prevail." Cedrella intoned. She rose with dignity from the seat she'd taken before her husband. "I take it we shall need to reach into the shadows, then?"

"How far?" Tertius exchanged a glance with Primus.

Primus rose with a sigh. "Shall I call for Regulus?"

Murmurs of dissent filtered through the room—yet again.

"Regulus Black?" Heron's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure? He is not—natural."

"Perhaps, but it does not mean we cannot take advantage of that which is offered to us. Septimus?" Primus looked to his youngest brother. "Shall I?"

The Head of House sighed, softly. "Yes." He looked away. "Call him alone, first."

Regulus Black turned out to be something of a failed experiment. His features were decidedly of the Black family, but softened, and gentled as if he'd taken a great deal of practice to wear off his own sharpened corners. The nature of his failure was explained in the very way he was introduced to the Weasley children.

Ron's trademark exclamation was muffled by his father's hand and Percy's pinch to one vulnerable thigh. The Twins gave a start, but made no other reaction as Fleur gasped, loudly and let herself be pulled onto Bill's lap.

Regulus black was very visibly a wizard-Torvak hybrid—or mistake—depending on which you chose to accept. He wore no typical wizarding robes or clothes, save for a simple pair of trousers and a plain, belt with an unobtrusive buckle. There were silvery, magicked cuffs about his wrists, with glowing runes in blue and green. No shoes, his feet—or rather, his claws—were gnarled and scaled. His entire upper torso was covered in thick black feathers, neatly groomed and pressed flat. His wings turned out to be partial forms, instead of separating from his arms, they remained attached, moving with his every movement.

His face—the human features—were surrounded by a neat halo of smaller, finer, softer black feathers and his did not hold the trademark hint of amber, rather, they were a simple soft grey. A single gold chain hung 'round his neck, a tarnished, twisted locket. His hair was long, smooth and untangled, gathered into a makeshift ponytail at the back of his head, tucked behind his ears to show simple, gold hoops through each earlobe.

An air of sorrow seemed to hang around him as he entered the room, eyes lowered, Heron and Tertius standing behind him, like guards. "Lord Weasley," Regulus murmured, he bowed formally and as best as his half-form would allow. "I am honored that you would see me out for. How may I be of assistance?"

Arthur himself had a moment's worry where it took him a deep breath and the action of Percy mistakenly pinching him—instead of Ron—to keep from saying anything aloud. The last he had ever heard of a Regulus Black, was that the lad sorted into Slytherin and initiated as a Death Eater was quite dead, at least, if the Black family tapestry was anything to go by.

Septimus' pale blue-eyed gaze darted quickly between Arthur and the newcomer. He could easily piece together the gaps there. "I am asking you here on behalf of your wife."

Regulus lifted his chin, eyes still averted as a sign of respect, but head held high. "Yes?"

"These children have been sealed."

Regulus' head snapped up, his grey eyes darkening. It immediately sought out the Weasley children and focused on each child in turn. "What kind of seals?" His gaze flickered back to Septimus.

"Dragel seals."

Regulus swallowed. He looked away.

Silence strung up the tension in the room.

"Jun has quite the temper these days." He said, at last. "I do not know if she will come."

One of the noblemen snorted. "Then tell her it is an important matter of life and-"

"She has not forgiven any of you." Regulus interrupted. "And should she agree, she will not accept an audience."

"I don't understand." Arthur broke in. "Father-"

"Regulus achieved his status as one of us—through a botched potion." Septimus explained, quietly. "There is no Torvak blood in the Black line, the potion he took near death, brought him back as—well, that."

"And?"

"And, the Black line holds ties to Dragel blood, remember?"

Oh. Oh. Arthur blinked, understanding dawning. "So he can-?"

"I cannot." Regulus murmured. "But my wife can."

Wife? Arthur scrambled to recall potential proposals between houses. He'd seen the list several times during his training, it had been part of the family history. Yet, he couldn't think of any respectable witch that would've married the Death Eater. Here, Arthur snuck a glance towards the man's arms, only to see the completely feathered appendages, with the fingers not quite made into talons, but still more feather than skin.

"Regulus married a Dragel." Septimus murmured. "A pureblooded Dragel."

At that, Arthur thought he might quite possibly have reached his limit of surprising revelations for the day.

A/N: Arthur can fight! whoohoo. Go Arthur! lolz. I hope that fight scene was a good one. I like the idea of Arthur with a staff. :) (and I thought it'd be a good twist if his Mother was the one who taught him. heehee). Regulus is alive 'cause I like him. :P Ah, the subplot chapter evens out next chappy, the Weasley kids seals are coming off, cute!harry and cute!Draco to follow, then Niko, then Aiden, then at last, back to Quinn. Whew. Got it? Good! Thanks for reading!

If you have questions, ask away. I'll answer what I can and read the replies in the FORUM-you might find answers to your questions before you even ask.

Unneeded---No, Arthur hasn't dumped Molly. He will not. :) But he is at a point where he's doubting a lot of things and having to focus only on his children. The family will not be happy learning about Charlie with Harry, that is for certain, and there will be pretty serious reactions on both sides. Aiden left Hermione in the healing trance that she's in at present. He also set the "whist" (which is just the current spirits lurking in the forest) to keep an eye on her while he went to see what Death had really summoned him for. (Remember Voldysmorts had initiated the call for Death in the first place? and she had to go and answer?) Ah, Aiden is a drama king, somewhat, but it'll be a good meeting, I think. Hermione should wake up with enough time to try and piece together some stuff before Aiden arrives in all his lovely temper. :) Yep, voldysmort's plotting, but it should make for some interesting twists for Harry and co. Seals for the Weasleys come off next chapter and the one after, should have Harry back at Quinn's. Thanks for reviewing and reading! :D

Jan--I'm glad you're enjoying it! Here's the next chapter--thanks for reading and reviewing! :D

To everyone who reviewed, thank you! If I missed you in the replies, 'tis purely by accident. Thanks for reviewing/faving/alerting this little fic. ^_^
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There Be Dragons, Harry