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I
After dinner was over, they moved to the ballroom to continue. There was neither dancing nor music; the floor instead filled with small circles of armchairs and chairs, creating smaller bubbles for discussion. There would be another time to have fun and mingle. That day was given for catching up and having a genuine chance to talk to one another.
Tom and others picked one of the more secluded spots in a corner. They began with trivial things, discussing what either of them was up to recently - easy pleasantries to clear before moving to the more urgent matters. Everything else would have its moment another day during a proper meeting.
Antonin mentioned his and his grandmother’s farm experiencing slight difficulties. Evan told them his own forest was finally turning a profit after extensive renovations and rebuilding, generations of neglect finally corrected. Abraxas complained about Wizengamot, some story about a stupid bill that had been thrown in seemingly to waste their time. Tom listened to each of them attentively. Sometimes offering advice when he could, others simply laughing with the rest. He himself shared one of his more recent experiments, a nice project he had been working on with his wife for the past few weeks.
When the turn came to young Theseus, new Lord Nott, the younger man sighed.
“Do any of you have any advice on how to find a Lady?” he asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I swear I somehow keep running into the worst possible choices.”
Evan whistled low. “That bad?”
“You have no idea, my friend,” Theseus told him. “Anyone worth approaching is already spoken for by wealthier families with even better connections. The rest are either against everything I myself believe, do not look at me due to the actions of my father and grandfather or are of no interest to me.”
Around the young man, others winced sympathetically. Late Lords Nott had not been the best. If anything, Tom thought, it would’ve been better if the family would’ve been dissolved entirely than left to those two. It was nothing short of a miracle that Theseus had anything to inherit at all, and it would likely take years - although much more likely decades - to settle old scores and pay remaining debts.
“There is no way I am finding anyone soon,” Theseus continued. “How did you manage to find your wives? It can’t always be betrothals, I’m sure someone has to have tried doing it themselves.”
“I still don’t have one and don’t really plan on it,” Anotonin admitted, hands clapped at the back of his head. “My younger sister will likely be the one to produce the next head of the family. I don’t see myself ever settling down.”
“Unless your grandmother decides that you do,” Evan remarked, snickering even as Tony thumped him in his shoulder. “Don’t fight, you know it’s true. You don’t say ‘no’ to that woman, so if she wants you wed and with children, it shall happen regardless of anyone’s wishes or thoughts.”
Tony winced but didn’t argue.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Abraxas replied. “Back when we were your age, it was a custom to make a marriage contract close to birth, regardless of whether or not the children would follow through with it. That way there was usually a guaranteed match if something else didn’t work out.”
“Unless your parents really didn’t care,” Evan added, sipping his wine, “then they would make sure their match is the only one you’re allowed.”
Abraxas patted him on his shoulder. “Look on the bright side. Maria is not the worst option you could’ve had.”
“Definitely not,” Evan agreed. “It could’ve been so much worse. I can’t really complain.”
“But what,” Theseus asked, “you don’t really like her?”
“We are more like friends towards one another. Get along well enough to make it work in public, make things work outside it. I do think I got a better deal than some might’ve.”
“You have a lot of work,” Tom told Theseus honestly, seeing no use in sugarcoating it. “However, the times are different right now. You do not have to decide anything now. Work on your reputation and your family’s power. I’m sure with time you will find someone suitable once you figure the rest of your responsibilities out.”
“Perhaps,” Theseus sighed. “What about you, milord? How did you meet your wife?”
Evan and Abraxas exchanged snickers, hiding their grins in their cups. Antonin groaned just at the reminder.
“Yes, Antonin,” Tom drawled lazily, nursing his whiskey. “How did I meet Helena?”
Antonin grumbled half-heartedly, “Tony this, Tony that. I was just there, for once, you are the reason the story exists to begin with.”
“You do make a better storyteller,” Tom returned smoothly. “Considering you have been in the front row.”
“You’re mean, and I don’t like it,” Tony grumbled. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. Usually.”
“It’s hard not to make you the teller when you’re the one who found her and then had to watch the rest unfold,” Abraxas remarked. “Perhaps if you weren’t, we would be sharing stories of Octavius instead.”
A little away from them, as if hearing their conversation, Octavius turned to throw a look in their direction. Tom hid a smirk in his tumbler as Tony waved at the other man, Abraxas sighing tiredly at the antics.
“Somehow I don’t see either of you complaining about the outcome of those stories,” Antonin continued when Octavius finally turned away. “Or is there something I don’t know about your marriage, Tom? Helena’s been complaining recently, you know, milord…”
Tom didn’t rise to the bait.
“She always does,” he returned neutrally. “Considering the fools she typically works with, I would’ve been surprised if she did not. Why, Antonin? Are you worried she would go from cursing them to you?”
“I’m only worried for your sanity,” Tony returned in kind. “Alright, if you want me to tell it so much, I guess I can indulge you tonight.”
Antonin shifted slightly, getting more comfortable in his armchair, took a swig of his mead.
Tom let the rest of the conversation drift around him. The memory surfaced easily enough, vivid and warm, as Antonin’s voice settled into its familiar rhythm. He told the story with the same flair he always did when asked, not at all minding the title despite insisting otherwise. Abraxas and Evan listened with the same curiosity, though both had heard the recounting countless times. A few others around them had moved a little closer, drawn in by the sudden commotion or laughter. There was no helping it, not really. Looking back, it was indeed ridiculous how things had worked out. Not only that, but the fact that they had worked out at all if one was entirely honest.
He took a long sip of his whiskey and raised his gaze to look across the room. Helena was standing on the other side of the sitting room, surrounded by other ladies. They were talking amongst themselves, laughter occasionally ringing from their group across the rest of the room.
She was as radiant as ever. Hair pulled back into an intricate braid, green eyes bright with joy and fun, the rest of the room was indulging for the night, a slight flush to her cheeks. It would be a lie to say she was the prettiest amongst those present. Yet there was something almost electric to her that the rest of the aristocrats seemed to lack. Something magnetic to the point he could not take his eyes off her. Not that he tried too hard to do it.
A small smile touched his lips. Tom took another sip, hiding it in his tumbler. He allowed himself to sink into the memory, half-heartedly listening to others around him.
II
Tom took a sip from his cup, nodding along to Evan’s report. Things were going quite well recently, and the few issues they did have were easily dealt with, usually by those currently working on the task in question.
“Charms Guild is still banning work,” Evan told them, one leg resting against the knee of the other. “Apparently they have decided to follow the recent package of restrictions from the Ministry. We’ve been hiding whatever we could in our libraries, but there will be less and less decent research to come - half of the things don’t get approved, others do but can’t get enough financing to do much about it.”
A few seats down, Antonin also nodded, looking grim. “We have been asked the same,” he confirmed. “According to official reports, the cuts are due to the lack of proper funding. When we asked if we could continue working privately just with the Guild’s backing, however, we were told that we’d best not to if we don’t want to have issues with the Ministry.”
“The same is happening with History,” Abraxas noted. “We have already been asked not to share our recent findings. Apparently, they do not wish to distress the public.”
“Didn’t you work on something about core sizes?”
“Indeed,” Abraxas confirmed. “It was no surprise that our theory got proven, everyone can understand what is happening and why. Alas, the Guild has decided there is no need to inform others that abandoning traditions might, perhaps, actually have consequences.”
Evan snored. “At this rate, half of us will be locked away for practising ‘forbidden arts’,” he sneered, “the same arts that have been fine for generations before, and the rest would be too weak to do anything about it.”
“Be grateful we managed to shoot down recent bills on education reforms,” Octavius added. “However, with Slughorn still teaching at Hogwarts, they might manage even without the Ministry nosing around in their business.”
“He is still there?” Antonin asked.
“Dumbledore won’t be getting rid of him unless he finds someone else willing enough to do his bidding,” Octavius noted almost lazily. “Or skilful enough to be useful to him. It’s a fact we unfortunately have to accept and deal with, at least for the time being.”
“Unfortunately,” Tom added. “As long as Dumbledore keeps him, nothing will change. There haven’t been enough complaints or accidents to get the Board involved..
Octavius grumbled but didn’t speak up. All of them had been trying to get rid of Slughorn for years, precisely because of how dangerous his classes had always been. Children were known to get scarred. Several had lost their limbs due to negligence. Unfortunately, most petitions - either from parents or even governors - miraculously got lost on their way to the Headmaster. Somehow, there was always an explanation. Usually, children themselves were blamed for accidents and supposedly breaking rules of personal safety.
“The guilds and the school can wait for now. Try your best to keep working as you have been. We will continue to try and keep more harmful bills from passing,” Tom continued. “Forgetting rarer arts is a greater issue now. Have there been any changes with Artefactors? Have we managed to find someone to place there?”
“Still haven’t,” Zoe, young Lady Greengrass, reported. “It’s too tight-knit and actually supports the Ministry. The few we did manage to find are from lower circles without prospects of getting anywhere that matters. I’ve been doing what I can, but a librarian’s reach is rather limited.”
“Were there any recent births in families with the gift?”
“No births,” Zoe replied, “and the children that are old enough to show signs haven’t developed the gift. The only ones still left with enough power left to pass it on are Potters. However, even their family has been coming up short. There hasn’t been a new artefactor born on the Isles ever since the late Dowager Potter a generation back.”
“She was gifted,” Tom allowed. “It is a shame none of her children inherited it. Does one of you know of someone that might fit?”
Around the table, almost everyone shook their heads. Tom noticed that Tony was frowning thoughtfully on the other end of the table. He allowed Dolohov some time to think whatever he had on his mind, knowing that, if it were important enough, his friend would share it with the rest of them soon after.
Indeed, a few minutes later, just as Abraxas and Zoe were debating whether it was a good plan to resort to bribery to get someone into the correct position, Antonin spoke up.
“There is someone,” Tony said a bit cautiously, “though I’m not sure whether or not she would even think of agreeing to it. It might be easier to bribe old masters into helping us.”
“Still,” Evan said, “it is an option worth considering. “Mind sharing with the rest of the class?”
Tony shrugged. “There isn’t much to share,” he admitted. “When I was still in school, back in Koldovstoretz, there was this girl in our year that was a rather powerful artefactor, practically spent all of her free time living in the lab and with the professors. Apparently she was originally from Britain, one of the Potters. Koschei and Yaga personally made sure she knew the language to ensure she could learn the craft. Although I do think she ended up choosing theoretical potions as her speciality. She might still have the skills we need.”
Tom’s attention sharpened. A Potter, even if estranged, could be a valuable asset. Provided half of the things Tony seemed to know about her were actually truths, not exaggerated rumours, of course. That happened too often to dismiss the possibility.
“I haven’t heard of an estranged Potter,” Abraxas noted with a small frown. “Are we sure she is connected to the Potters we know?”
“From what I could tell at the time, she is,” Tony admitted. “There used to be a rumour that her father was so ashamed of her that he decided to send you to proverbial wolves. Allegedly, if she proved herself strong enough to thrive in magical Russia, she was strong enough and worthy enough to be allowed to return.”
“I seem to remember something like that,” Evan added, frowning thoroughly. “Wasn’t she an older sister to Charlus and Feamont? I think we used to attend the same tutoring sessions before she suddenly disappeared one day.”
“And where is she now?” Tom asked.
“Last I heard, she is working in Durmstrang.”
Tom hummed to himself, considering. Tony wouldn’t have lied, it wasn’t in him. Chances were, indeed, he didn’t think about it before, likely deciding they would’ve managed to find someone on their soil. From what it sounded like, the connection was old and hardly kept up, a mistake perhaps, but nothing drastic.
It was more of an issue that Karkaroff had not said anything. Despite knowing they had been looking for a specialist for more than a year.
Igor had always been slippery. It was part of the reason Tom had even bothered including him in any of their folds. Few people could become the youngest headmaster in Durmstrang entirely honestly, for it took talents well beyond one’s knowledge and skills in sciences. As such, it was hardly a surprise that the man might’ve hidden something useful. Karkaroff wouldn’t have gotten as far as he had if he didn’t know how to manoeuvre powerful people; it was as simple as that. It didn’t mean that Tom had to like it. After the aid he himself had offered, in exchange for loyalty, it was past time for Karkaroff to show some in return.
“Let us pay a visit to Igor then,” Tom said aloud. “Tony, please draft our friend a letter, set the date when he can see us and show off that artefactor of his. I would like to know precisely why he has decided to remain silent on the matter, considering the issues we have been having thus far.”
“It will be done. Would you like me to ask him for an explanation or should we do it personally instead?”
“Personally, of course. I would have to have something lost in communication, wouldn’t you?”
Tony grinned sharply. “Wouldn’t dare, milord.”
“Good, then we shall have no issues.” Tom turned to Abraxas. “Find older records. We shall have our answer soon enough, but I want to have something more tangible than rumours of her paternity.
“I will try my best,” Abraxas promised. “My mother used to be a Potter before marriage. If someone knows of another Potter child, it would be her.”
Tom nodded. “The rest of you, continue working on preserving as much of recent research as you can. If there is a project you believe that needs to go on, do not hesitate to fund it or pool funding with others on your team. We might have to organise a charity ball soon for better financing, but this should do for the time being.”
“What of those who might not have enough to support themselves on their own?” Octavius asked. “Not everyone might be able to keep working if there is no proper aid.”
“Refer them to me,” Tom decided. “Should their project prove interesting enough, I will personally fund it. Provided, naturally, they are willing enough to sign a contract through Gringott’s.”
Octavius nodded. “I will spread the word then.”
“The news is troubling,” Tom said, looking around at others in the room, “but nothing we shouldn’t be able to handle. Remember this – the better we work now, the higher the chances we might be able finally to change things for the better.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Antonin called out, a sharp grin on his face.
The rest of the room chuckled heartily, spirits much higher than they had been at the beginning. Tom leaned back into his chair, watching them tease one another, lazily throwing jabs back when someone tried to drag him into it.
They had a solid enough plan to make it work. Now it was up to Igor on how easy the entire thing went.
III
Durmstrang greeted them with a familiar chill in the air and stiff bows from the students whenever they crossed paths. Although it was close to the end of May, the weather was still frosty. Tom could almost feel the lingering Winter. As if it never truly left the castle even during other seasons.
Igor fit right in with the rest of the school. He greeted them with the same stiff smile that somehow charmed many others, inviting to move their meeting into his office. He talked about the school and achievements, how much his students and staff alike had managed to get done recently. Precise yet nervous words were pleasant to listen to despite circumstances. Igor knew Tom liked to hear about the success of their people and was trying to use it to his advantage.
A small smirk curled on his lips. Truly, some people never seemed to change no matter how much time passed.
Throughout the walk, Tony kept giving the man a hard look, making Igor even more nervous. That, in turn, led to more flattery and boasting, doing nothing to make Antonin like the man more. The two had hated one another since before joining Tom’s circle. If he was honest, half the time he didn’t have to do anything at all. Antonin managed to unnerve Igor well enough on his own, saving Tom the effort.
Once they settled with their drinks, Igor fell into surprising silence. Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Antonin was busy glaring into his mug as if it had personally insulted him, no doubt checking for any poison lacing it or the drink. Tom took a brave sip of his own, seeing no reason to bother.
Finally, after a while, Igor couldn’t stand the silence much longer.
“While I am certainly grateful and overjoyed at your visit, milord,” the man offered, smiling with too much sweetness to seem genuine, “I cannot help but wonder about your motives.”
“Why,” Tom returned, “you don’t think I can miss people? Perhaps I wished to see you after all this time.”
“I would not dare,” Igor reassured fervently, one hand resting in the middle of his chest. “Do not misunderstand me, I did not mean to offend. Truly, I cannot imagine a better gift to one of your followers, milord.”
Tom arched his eyebrow but didn’t speak. By his side, Antonin abandoned the offered mug and shifted to glare directly at Karkaroff.
“I am merely curious,” Igor went on to say, “because it has been a while since our last meeting in person. Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps an assignment you wish to give me?”
“Nothing you might have imagined, Igor,” Tom replied. “At this point, all I require of you is information on one of your professors. Nothing you shouldn’t be able to provide, correct?”
Igor paled but managed to get himself together once more.
“Of… of course, milord,” he hurried to say. “Any information which I myself know is yours for the asking.”
“Truthful information, Igor,” Tony muttered. “Truthful.”
“I am always truthful when speaking with my lord,” Igor returned with a sugary smile, unable to quite help himself. “Perhaps one ought to worry about your sanity if you see traitors even in those most faithful, Antonin.”
Tony sent the man another glare but did not speak further, turning instead to look at a spot on one of the walls.
“I am glad you take our alliance seriously,” Tom said, turning attention back to himself. The last thing he wished for was Igor and Tony really taking it off, ending up duelling one another. “A simple question to sate my curiosity.”
“Everything for you, milord. Who do you want to know about?”
Tom met Igor’s eyes, levelling him with a hard look. “Tell me about Helena Potter. I hear she is quite talented. Her specialisation is artefacts, is it not? In artefactors, from what I’ve been hearing?”
“Ah, she is working primarily in Potions, my lord,” Igor corrected gently. Although he did his best to remain calm and unfazed by the questioning, Tom could see the nervousness oozing out of him. In the way Karkaroff couldn’t quite meet his eyes, in the way he twiddled his thumbs anxiously. “Recently she has been working for the school as one of the researchers and brewers, additional staff should there be need to replace one of the potioneers for their classes. I am unsure why she might be of any interest to you or our cause. She is perfectly average.”
“Indeed?” Tom asked low, giving him a moment to correct himself. When Igor did not, he gestured for Tony. Obediently, Atonin took out a thick folder from his inner pocket and passed it to Igor. “Then do tell me why you have been hiding a powerful asset in your castle. Or, perhaps, you have not heard that we were looking for potential allies, especially ones with such rare skills as hers?”
The mask cracked. Igor went red and then pale, his skin turning a pasty white colour that better suited marble than a living being. He stammered helplessly, his mouth opening and closing uselessly, blinked a few times.
Neither of them reached for the folder. There was no need to.
“My Lord,” Igor whispered, “I meant no offence. Really… I was looking out for you and your people, I did not wish to waste your time on -”
“On what, Igor?” Tom asked, leaning slightly forward. “On actually doing what we’ve been trying for the past three years?
“On something that would never work, milord! I swear, if I thought for one moment that you could turn her to your side, I would’ve notified you immediately. However, Helena is a very proud one, very stubborn. We have been trying for years to do something with her, but she keeps refusing, telling us she picks no battles.”
“We are not asking her to fight for us,” Tony noted, “we just need a specialist because Britain ruined the few it did have.”
“She will never return there,” Igor protested, sending Antonin a glare. “Do you not think I have tried? There was a reason why she left, and most of those rumours are correct, even if only partially.”
Tony snorted. “What would you know?”
“Certainly more than you. I talked with her when she applied for her initial Mastery; the school agreed to sponsor her provided she was willing to spend the following five years working for us with a small cut to her wages. Of course, I had to know whether she was planning to suddenly leave us or if Lord Potter suddenly decided to see her home. She told me that he neither had any rule over her life nor would ever bother to do anything. Sounded like whatever had happened was less to do with proving one’s honour but severing of ties.”
“That is what you got from it? Maybe they just had an argument or two at the time. You weren’t there to know for sure.”
“Potters wouldn’t have given up an artefactor for a simple argument,” Igor snapped, finally losing his cool. “The girl is powerful enough to make creations lasting centuries. Who in their right mind would let someone like her go?”
“I do not know, Igor,” Tom noted coldly. “Indeed, who would?”
Tony sat back, satisfied. His work was done.
Igor suddenly froze, realising what he had let out. The words hung between them like a heavy cloud, the air all but buzzing as the tension rose once more. Temper was one of Igor’s faults. It had been a matter of time before he cracked, especially with Tony questioning him. Yet somehow, it still came out as a surprise to the man. It was almost astonishing how unaware he was of himself. One would’ve thought he would’ve learned after years of dealing with it.
Tom looked right at Igor, considering. An oldest child, though a girl, cast out at ten, hiding behind false names and enough pseudonyms to put most researchers to shame. No family recognition or support. No Guild truly behind her back except for odd publication or two. There wouldn’t have been any reason for the secrecy had it indeed been a case of proving one’s worth. Without obvious ties to her, the work wouldn’t have given her any power or recognition, falling through the cracks and staying firmly in the specialised circles.
If it was not power, it was definitely money. Perhaps support. Both of which she would’ve found in the walls of Durmstang since, Tom knew for a fact, all of her debts would’ve long been paid.
No wonder she had refused Igor’s attempts to use her. That he had tried, Tom had no doubt. He wouldn’t have been able to ignore the opportunity even if it meant his own death. Not when such raw talent practically swam into his hands.
Tom swirled his goblet thoughtfully. Across him, Igor looked about ready to throw himself onto the floor to escape his gaze. Good. It would do him well to think twice before ever pulling such a stunt again.
He set his goblet down, the clang echoing in the silence.
“I believe,” he began slowly, “it would be best if we conversed with Miss Potter directly. Since, as it turns out, information wasn’t reaching me, I do not wish for it to happen again during actual negotiations.”
“My lord, I -”
“Enough, Igor. You have already done more than enough.”
Igor flinched as if hit and hung his head.
“You will notify Miss Potter that someone wishes to see her,” Tom ordered. “Tell them there are people interested enough in her work to converse and potentially fund her future endeavours. All we are asking for now is a meeting to see whether we would work well with one another and that she would have no responsibility or pressure to accept our offer if she dislikes it.”
“Do you think it’s wise?” Tony asked, turning to face him. “She didn’t work this hard to stay hidden to suddenly let herself be caught. What if she decides to bolt?”
“She wouldn’t,” Tom told him. “People like her do not run this easily. As you have noted, it has gone far enough to understand it would do much more harm than good to act entirely blindly. It is a calculated risk we take.”
Igor nodded, pale and eager to get back into his graces.
Tony winced. “And if it falls through?”
Tom took a measured sip of his wine. “Then it would be hardly useful to speak to her at all.”
The meeting was arranged within the hour.
IV
“Mistress Helena will see you shortly,” a house-elf told them, leading them into what looked like a small sitting room. “She is finishing the last part of her work and cannot leave it.”
“It is no trouble,” Tom told the she-elf. “Would your Mistress mind if we had something to drink while we wait?”
“Not at all. I will bring out drinks shortly.”
As they waited for Potter to finish her work, Tom studied the rest of the room. At first glance, there was nothing too out of the ordinary or even overly lavish – a well-kept stone fireplace and wooden furniture, a dark red rug thrown on the floor to keep them warm, stained glass windows covered with thin tulle curtains. There were shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books on various subjects. All of it one would’ve found easily enough in any other professor's quarters; it was hardly that impressive. The devil, as always, hid in the detail.
Furniture made out of dark wood was covered in small, clearly handmade carvings of birds and cats that curled around the frame. The raven on the window moved subtly, ruffling its wings whenever it thought no one was looking and occasionally cawing. When it realised that Tom had noticed it was alive, the image shook its head slightly and flew to the tree laid out a little to the side, disappearing up in the branches. Runes hid under the carpet and on the shelves; the china they had been offered buzzed softly with magical power. Judging by the similar runes Tom found in the patterns on the porcelain, it was to keep the drinks the temperature they had been when poured and the cup itself from breaking.
The room almost felt like it breathed, filled with subtle magic. Power that lurked in the corners and up against the ceiling, seemingly watching Tom and Antonin as they waited. Tom wouldn’t be surprised if there indeed was some sort of monitoring spell. Or, at the very least, a war or ten to judge the intentions of whoever paid her a visit.
He smiled to himself. Indeed, the woman was getting more and more interesting by the moment.
Tony whistled low, turning a saucer in his hands. “She is definitely powerful. What are we thinking? Wood, stone and metal?”
“Certainly wood,” Tom returned, “likely ceramics and glass as well. Why do you think she is working with metal?”
“There is a forge nearby. I can almost feel the heat of it. Doesn’t make sense to live near one without using it, does it?”
Tom hummed to himself, filing the detail for later. Each artefactor worked with a small array of materials, it was usually hard to find one that specialised in more than five. Perhaps, if they were lucky, Miss Potter would turn out to be one of those.
She appeared soon after through the same door they had. Tall and broad-shouldered, her simple working tunic still covered in soot from her work, the young woman immediately attracted attention. Her face was a little rough, more masculine than feminine, but somehow did not break the image. If anything, it only seemed to serve the rest of her, fitting seamlessly with everything else they had learned of her up until that point.
The most captivating feature was perhaps her eyes. Sharp and alert, they were of an unusual green colour. Almost as if someone had dared cast a Killing Curse, capturing it in her gaze.
Miss Potter confidently walked across the room to one of the shelves, placing what looked like a bundle of instruments there, seemingly not confused or worried by having someone in her space. A thin, seemingly unimportant veil of raw power followed her as she moved around.
Tom straightened slightly, immediately on high alert. He watched her closely, carefully remembering every single move or twitch, filing them for possible use. On the other side, he could see Antonin doing the same.
“Forgive me for making you wait,” Miss Potter finally offered, voice a little deep, as she turned to face them properly. “I was in the middle of finishing a project, I’m sure you must understand that there are stages where you can’t as much as take a proper breath, much less leave it unattended.”
“Of course,” Tom offered smoothly, approaching. Helena offered her hand for a kiss, slightly tipping it. He easily obliged. “I am Lord Slytherin, with me is my friend, Antonin Dolohov.”
“Miss Potter,” she offered politely in return. “Dolohov, it sounds familiar. Weren’t we in the same year back at school? I believe I remember hearing of you in the Duelling club.”
“We indeed were,” Antonin offered. “I recall hearing the same. Yaga was always impressed with your abilities, milady.”
“Flattery, I quite like it. But do not sell yourself short, I believe you have done quite well for yourself as well. I have read your article recently, on some charm work. Quite impressive if I do say so myself.”
“Thank you, it has taken a lot of work.” Tony nodded. “Shall we talk more about your own achievements? Your fame precedes you.”
Miss Potter offered a small, mysterious smile. “If you wish to. Let us sit down and talk properly.”
They moved towards the seat. While Tom took a place on one of the armchairs, Miss Potter took a couch across from him. Antonin shifted half a step to the side, giving himself a clear line to both the door and the witch. She did her best not to pay it any mind. Only a slight tightness around her shoulders told him she had noticed the shift at all.
“I have been informed that you wish to discuss a potential working contract?” Miss Potter began, diplomatically.
“We were,” Tom confirmed readily. “As you might have heard, there is a certain level of degradation currently witnessed within magical Britain. A lot of the arts have been lost to time, and even more have been restricted to the point of absurdity. As unfortunately as it sounds, there have been no good masters left in Guilds to continue their work.”
“I have read recent work of your mages,” Miss Potter noted. “It does sound quite trivial in some aspects. It seems the only ones still trying to do something are the aristocracy, aren’t they?”
“Indeed they are,” Tony confirmed. “We have been doing our best, but alas, there are areas that are too rare even for our influence.”
“What do you want from me then? I do not believe I could help you influence a bug in Britain, much less any potential masters there might be.”
“Nor do we ask you to,” Tom replied. “Miss Potter, your reputation precedes you. We have been working on preserving as much knowledge and research as possible, specifically within the fields we have our allies in. Unfortunately, Anotonin was correct in pointing out that there are those which have been damaged so much that barely anyone would wish to aid us in our endeavours. At this point, someone must intervene before they die out entirely.”
Miss Potter nodded, her eyes focused firmly on him. Her gaze was heavy and calculating, slowly moving between him and Tony as she thought it over. Tom wouldn’t have been surprised if she had already figured out not only the reason for their visit but what they might potentially offer her.
He met her eyes, not bothering to look away. Something told him there would’ve been no winning her over if he had.
“We have come to offer you to join our circle,” Tom went on, voice steady, certain. “We ask you to consider working for us, publishing research and helping others from our group if they require it, for a good reward, of course.
“I do not believe it is possible to work this remotely.”
“It is not,” he agreed easily enough. “Which is why one of the stipulations is you moving back to Britain. I am willing to offer you housing, protection and whatever resources you need to ensure your stay is as pleasant as possible.”
“I do not play political games,” Miss Potter told him firmly. “Nor do I have any sway within your guild or your court. There is a chance they will not accept me in their ranks.”
Tom did not react. It was a risk he understood well enough, even if he did believe the Guild would be thrilled to have another Potter in their halls. It had been long enough that half of the country would’ve been overjoyed just at the news.
“It is an unfortunate possibility,” he acknowledged aloud. “However, it will not impede on the rest of our contract. Should you indeed be unable to join the Guild, you will face no repercussions and be free to continue your work. Neither your housing nor your funding would suffer in the process.”
“And you are willing to sign a deal through goblins?”
“More than, Miss Potter. I do not wish for a slave, I need a master.”
They fell into silence. Her gaze had long focused on Tom, eyes boring into his face as she kept up with their conversation. He looked right back at her. Both of them realised the deal was more than sweet, especially for her, twice so considering how tight goblin-made contracts were.
A beat passed between them, then another.
“I do not accept your offer,” Miss Potter said at last, tilting her chin slightly upwards. “I apologise for wasting your time.”
Tony winced at her tone, hand twitching as he nearly summoned his wand. Tom, however, remained calm, continuing to watch her carefully.
“May I know the reason?” he asked steadily, not a single muscle twitching.
“There are a number of them,” she told him coyly. “One of them is also the reason why you have sought me out specifically, Lord Slytherin. If you wish to find leverage on Potters through me, you are mistaken. I had neither their respect nor attention long before being cast out.”
“I do not. Do not insult my impression of you, Miss Potter. If that were the reason, I would’ve approached one of your brothers instead.”
“Neither of them possesses the gift you wish for,” Miss Potter returned. “Both of us know if it were simple mastery that you sought, you would’ve easily looked closer.”
“You are correct. it is not simple mastery. There are countless gifted outside British borders. It would’ve indeed been easier to get one of them.” Tom leaned back in the armchair, hands clasped together. “However, I do not want them. I need you. And I am willing to pay a rather steep price for both your services and presence.”
Her eyes narrowed. Something seemed to have sparked within them, a flame that made the stunning green even deeper. Tom would lie if he said it did not look mesmerising or captivating. The intelligence he saw in them only sweetened the impression.
“You must truly be out of options to have come all the way for me,” Miss Potter remarked. “Have things really gotten this poor on the Isles?”
“I do not make it a habit to waste time on trivial matters,” he returned. “Or trivial people.”
“Then I won't waste any more of it.”
Tony watched them with a bewildered look, uncharacteristically silent. Tom could not blame him for it. As refreshing as the conversation was, the speed was hard to keep up with.
For a long moment, she studied him, her eyes never leaving him even for a moment. If Tom were anyone else, he would’ve felt uncomfortable under it.
Instead, he readily held up under it, not wavering.
“Very well,” Miss Potter said, setting her cup down. “Let me propose a challenge - a simple duel. Should I win, you will pay for my work and leave me alone here. I am willing to seek out books you might be missing, perhaps offer occasional help for your people for a fair price, but I will have nothing to do with Britain.”
“And what would happen should I win?”
“We broker the same deal with one difference that I shall operate with you on the Isles. Do not think
“Never even thought of it. Although I have one more stipulation.”
“Which would it be?”
She was still watching him, unblinking, and something in the way she held his gaze made the words rise before he could stop them.
“Should I win, the deal would not be enough,” Tom said, steeling himself. A little away, Tony made a small sound in his throat. “I wish for your hand. A courtship contract will be added.”
Her eyes flashed. Not with anger or indignation, no fawning many others would’ve felt at the sudden offer. Tom couldn’t certainly tell what it was. Perhaps it was due to curiosity, perhaps something older he could not really decipher.
It was admirable how much control over herself she had. A part of him couldn’t help but wonder how or why she had developed it. What she might have gone through to get where she had been - hiding out with Igor of all people, looking for double meanings as if it was gold one could use.
A cushy life never led to it. A fact he unfortunately knew from experience.
“Truly?” Miss Potter asked, chin resting elegantly on the back of her hand. She looked as sly as a fox, studying him somehow even closer than before. When he didn’t waver, she nodded. “Very well. I can agree to that.”
Tom smirked, satisfaction burning low and warm in his stomach. “Then it would be an honour to accept your challenge, my lady,” he told her. “Shall we?”
Another, sharper smile curled on her lips.
In the corner, Tom could hear Tony sigh tiredly. Unbidden, Tom chuckled to himself. It was indeed getting more and more interesting by the moment.
V
They decided to postpone the duel until early morning the following day. After they discussed some of the details and Miss Potter ensured they would be able to find their way, it was called for the night.
Igor was more than accommodating, offering one of the guest suits. As had long become common, Tony and Tom decided to share it regardless of Karkaroff’s attempts to send Tony off to sleep with the children, preferably first years. Tom wouldn’t have minded if Antonin decided to stay on his own for the night and was honestly impressed that Tony had decided otherwise.
Tony remained quiet as they prepared for the night. Occasionally Tom would feel his eyes upon himself, the looks disappearing the moment he turned to give one in return. Tony was practically buzzing - muttering under his breath, movements curt as he moved around the room. There was no real anger, no genuine annoyance. And even if there had been, Tom could hardly blame him. Tony was serious when he wanted to be, and the conversations they had had practically back-to-back couldn’t have been easy on him. Tom could not imagine what Tony must’ve been feeling throughout it all.
Silence continued late into the evening and deeper into the night. At some point, Tom was sitting on his bed, reading through the documents, humming occasionally to himself at one line or another. He was sitting on an armchair near the window, a dim light from the cigarette glowing softly in the darkness around them.
“Was it planned?” Tony asked suddenly, voice slightly hoarse. “Be serious, Tom.”
Tom didn’t look away from the papers, though his mind was no longer on them. He remembered that point in the conversation, the strange connection he had for some reason felt with Miss Potter sitting across him.
“No,” he admitted honestly. “It was not, Tony.”
“You are taking a huge risk. What happens should you win? Do you plan to go through with it?”
He didn’t reply, not immediately.
“Tom,” Tony pressed. “She wasn’t raised in Britain. If you do not actually plan to do it, she won’t just accept the sudden change. You will be staining her reputation and yours forever, especially in more traditional courts. She will not forgive such an insult.”
“It makes her all the more interesting because of it,” Tom returned, a bit quieter. “Should I win tomorrow, we will make up two contracts - one for the work she will be doing and the other for our courtship. I do not take my word back nor plan to toy with such sensitive matters.”
Anotnin nodded, taking another drag from his cigarette.
“You do not need to worry so much,” Tom replied. “I am more than capable of playing -”
“I won’t be if you stop antagonising powerful witches.”
Silence lasted for a few moments. Then Tom saw Antonin suddenly throw his head back and groan.
“Abraxas will never believe me,” Tony complained.
Tom chuckled and shook his head, turning back to his documents.
“No, you don’t understand. No one will ever believe me.” Antonin took another drag, exhaling in a loud sigh. “Duelling over a job offer. This is insanity.”
“Greatest mysteries of this world,” Tom offered kindly.
“You are evil, truly evil.”
VI
The sun was slowly coming up from the horizon.
Knowing better than to fight on a new territory entirely blind, Tom arrived a few hours earlier than he was supposed to, dragging still-complaining Antonin along.
The duelling grounds were outside. It was a circular disk in the ground, grass and dirt flattened from generations of children training on them. There were neither stands nor a smooth surface. Although Tom did notice a small runic line around the premises, it was more to protect those observing the duel rather than those participating in it. He smirked to himself, running his fingers along the runic stones. An interesting choice, he would admit. Certainly better than the half-forgotten classroom Hogwarts used for their practices. The place was as useful for actual learning as it was clean - meaning not at all.
Tony lectured him while Tom looked around. As it turned out, the ring indeed was used for proper learning. During warmer months, when the weather allowed, Durmstrang closed their usual duelling halls or classrooms. Instead, they preferred working out outside. Tony explained it was so students could get used to fighting not only in perfectly measured conditions of a duelling chamber but also outside it. Occasionally the training included fighting during rain and snow when the children got old enough. Tom made a mental note to offer the same practice for some of their circle. It never hurt to learn how to use one’s surroundings properly.
Done with his exploration, Tom began warming up. Tony watched from the edge of the ring, hands crossed on his chest. The other man stood away for a little while before sighing and joining him in the ritual.
At Tom’s unamused look, Tony shrugged.
“Someone would have to pick up the duel if it so happens that she wins,” Tony explained as he moved through his own set of stretches. He looked like an overgrown cat, though it would be a lie to say it wasn’t effective. “With me being kind of like your second and all.”
Tom hummed, continuing to stretch himself. “Do you think she would bring someone with her? She does not look like the type.”
“Doubtful. It wasn’t a standard practice; I honestly can’t remember the last time either of us bothered with proper rules. Usually the fight lasts until the opponent can move or get out of the bind if they can’t. You can yield earlier, but eh. Most people do their best to remain standing even on broken bones.”
“Immobilisation spells then. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Keep your attention on your surroundings,” Tony replied immediately as he straightened. “This is the dirtiest fight you will ever experience. There will be no rules or anything else you usually have in Britain. She will do everything in her power to deal with you and fast, including throwing a hunk of dirt if it means winning.”
“Does she have any favourite moves? Something that could be useful to know beforehand.”
“Not that I can remember,” Tony replied honestly. “She is very good in the air, like ridiculous levels of good. Some of us used to suspect she was an elemental or some other half-blood, Yaga even had to test her to make sure she wasn’t. Do not even think of flying unless you’re sure you can keep her tethered to the ground.”
Tom hummed, encouraging him to continue.
“She might bring weaponry with her,” Tony went on. “Although I don’t think she would since you two haven’t discussed it. Might conjure some in the process, but it’s unlikely. Believe it or not, she was never the best in Transfiguration. Was mad scary with Charms though. Weaknesses… weaknesses. I do remember that she used to have bad eyesight. Nothing that could be fixed magically. Apparently it was an accident during one of the potions classes. A cauldron blew up right into her face after someone tossed an ingredient inside. They managed to reverse the scarring on the skin, but apparently it altered her eyesight.”
“There haven’t been any glasses on her,” Tom remarked. “Although being an artefactor, there are other ways to address it. Are you sure it was irreversible?”
“It used to be at the time.”
Tom nodded thoughtfully, filing it for later. He did not think there would be any need to resort to such drastic measures, but any detail might become useful fast. She would be the one to set the pace of the fight, he decided, for matching an existing one would certainly be much easier than trying to find the edges on his own. Still, he doubted it would be as dangerous as Tony was making it seem. Doubted but prepared for anyway.
There was too much at stake, and Tom had full intention to win.
A little while later, Miss Potter finally joined them. She appeared out of the thin veil of mist that had settled around them, looking almost ethereal. On her she had a simple cotton shirt with tiny runes sewn along the hem in messy stitching, paired with slightly worn-out riding boots that had clearly been used and loved a lot. The only truly well-kept parts of her outfit were the dragonhide pants, a pair of bracelets on her wrist and a headchain with a small gem resting in the middle of her forehead. Still, she looked in no way dissuaded or stumped by Tom’s own sharper, better-tailored attire.
“It is nice to see you have come,” Miss Potter offered, giving her hand for a shake. Tom noticed she held no wand, likely using the bracelets as a focus. “Although I was not aware I was invited to a fashion show.”
“Do not worry, you fit right in,” Tom returned with a slight smile. “Should we discuss the rest of the rules?”
“I do not see why. Standard rules: no serious injuries or spells intentionally breaking bones, hand-to-hand combat allowed and encouraged. The first one to immobilise the opponent or to make them yield is a winner.”
“Sounds reasonable enough,” Tom agreed. “Should we wait for your second then?”
The easy smile on her face tensed for a few moments. “There is no need,” she offered a little stiffly. “I do not have one.”
“Very well. Then I shouldn’t either.”
They took their positions, sliding into familiar stances. Tony patted Tom’s shoulder in support before leaving the ring. They stared at one another, eyes sharply analysing the person across. A lot could be said about a fighter based on their stance, after all.
“All set,” Tony yelled. “Ready. Set. Begin!”
For a moment neither of them moved. Then, testing, she took a step to the side, then another when Tom mirrored the movement. She walked with quiet grace, eyes focused on every single movement he made. Not breaking the stride, Tom took out his wand, the tip cutting through the air with a quiet swish, a protective shield settling seamlessly against his skin. Across the field, Helena’s mouth twitched.
She raised her hands, purposefully slow. A crack appeared right by his feet, the ground groaning as she split it open, several large clumps rushing towards him. Tom jumped back gracefully, landing nearly on the balls of his feet. A spark ignited somewhere in his chest.
They stared at one another for a second longer. And then, there was no turning back.
The fight passed around him in flashes. Tony hadn’t lied when he had warned that she would be using every single trick in the book, tossing spells out as if they were candy. Tom spent the first half of it dodging, sending half-hearted attempts right back. She moved quickly, skillfully. As he conjured a water whip, the end whistling as it rushed to her, Helena easily evaded. She dashed to the side, redirecting it, forcing to break the spell. Dirt and grass flew around them. The air cracked from countless spells being fired rapidly. Neither of them had uttered a single word or name. Tom was sure half of the spells didn’t have any.
Halfway through, he approached. Helena did not hesitate. She turned on her feet, dodging, sent a spell in return. The shield around him took it, absorbing the power. Her eyes widened briefly, then narrowed, sharpening. Another spell and another dodge. She ended up putting more distance in the end, skillfully running from him and his attacks.
The dance continued much the same way. Blows with hands changed spells; the ground shook as they fought one another. Several had landed, leaving their mark. She had a busted lip that was bleeding lightly; a tear in her shirt from several arrows Tom had sent her way. He was only marginally better - a bruise on his cheekbone, a rather large hole in one of his boots, her spell barely missing the joint. She had allowed him to land a hit on her in exchange for it, realising the mistake. Tom had taken it readily.
At the edge of his vision, he could see a small crowd gathering. Children of various ages, several professors. Tony was handling it, so Tom pushed it out of his mind. There were more important things to focus on.
In the end, neither truly won. Tom made the final rush, pushing Helena off her feet, another spell ready to fuse her into the ground. The headpiece on her head had long since shattered. She squinted but dodged the first attack. The second caught her as she stumbled, sending her tumbling down. Her lips curved mischievously. Tom smirked right back. Helena hit the ground with a quiet thud.
It took a second for his spell to react. A second too long.
She thumped her palms against the ground. A flash of green shot toward him, and before Tom could react, thick grass erupted around his legs, pulling him down. He hit the ground hard.
Silence settled around the field. A little away, he could hear Helena cursing under her breath. Though he could feel, she wasn’t trying to get out of the spell either.
“Well,” Tony’s voice suddenly echoed through the silence, “safe to say it’s a draw.”
Grass restraining him slowly dissipated. He sent an impulse out, hearing Helena sigh as the ground released her as well.
The crowd cheered suddenly at the remark. Tom remained down, his breaths coming out in quiet whistles. He could hear someone approaching, their footsteps ringing against the ground, nearly deafening. Black spots danced in his eyes; half of his body hurt both from the magic spent and the blows she had managed to land.
Nevertheless, Tom remained on the ground, eyes watching the skies. He was smiling to himself.
VII
Lady Greengrass sighed dreamily, eyes shining brightly.
“This is so romantic,” Zoe remarked, hands resting against her chest. “Sounds like a novel someone brought to life.”
“Certainly,” agreed Lady Rosie. “Although, I can’t understand one thing. Why did you include courtship in the deal, Helena? Was the rest of it not enough for you?”
“It wasn’t me who asked for it,” Helena explained with a small smile, sipping her tea. “You will be surprised, but it was Marvolo who brought it up. I simply decided to agree to try. It wouldn’t have demanded anything of me nor stopped me from returning to Bulgaria had something gone wrong in the process. It was… a mutually beneficial decision.”
Anwen Malfoy, Abraxas’ mother, rolled her eyes. “Mutually beneficial indeed,” she drawled. “And it has nothing to do with the chaos the two of you children unleashed afterwards.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Helena replied with mock neutrality, ignoring the way the rest of the ladies kept watching her with wide, hungry-for-more-information eyes.
“Of course you don’t. Just like you likely do not recall returning to the court and nearly robbing the late Lord Potter blind in the process. Poor sod didn’t have a safe corner left by the time you were done with him, never mind any power or influence. Does it ring a bell?”
“What?” Lady Greengrass asked, eyes lighting up. “You were the one behind the abrupt change of Potter Lordship?”
“You have to tell that story too,” Lady Rosie agreed. “It was a mystery why he suddenly got up and left the court.”
“Or why his sons are still loyal to Slytherins,” Anwen remarked, taking a sip of her wine.
Helena only smiled at them, taking some of her drink. Her green eyes glistened mysteriously in the candlelight, looking precisely as one would expect from a witch’s gaze.
“I would if I could,” she replied, “but unfortunately I have absolutely no idea what either of you are talking about.”
Anwen snorted rather inelegantly but didn’t bother any further. Helena listened to Ladies Greengrass and Rosie theorise, her own gaze focused on the figure of her husband across the room.
Indeed, though perhaps the circumstances of their meeting might have been less than conventional, she would hardly ever regret it. Even if a part of her still could not believe that it had all actually happened. Not only that, but it had happened to her and even worked out, ending so much better than it really could’ve.
She sighed softly, smile softening. No, there were no regrets or ‘what ifs’ in her mind. Not when one single duel had given her so much in return.