An Animated Child

A/N

Here is chapter 2 for you guys…

Enjoy,

TBR

December 1984

It was not often that Julius Parkinson donned his best robes, but today was such an occasion that he would. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he straightened them, and his gaze shifted to the unmoving portrait of his late father.

Julius had not expected his time to ascend to the position of the head of his family would come so early in his life, nor so suddenly.

His father had been a strong man, and intelligent to boot, so his rather abrupt departure after a short illness had come as quite the shock.

From since he had been but a boy, Julius had spent many hours at his father's heel, watching how he conducted himself, learning the ins and outs of the family businesses, but he had never comprehended that there would be additional duties he knew nothing of, things that had not been disclosed to him until he had been summoned to his father's deathbed the previous year.

Flashback August 1983

According to the healer caring for him, Lord Thomas Parkinson was not long for this world, and there was nothing that could be done except to ensure he passed painlessly and comfortably as possible.

Julius had often envisioned the day his father would pass the mantel of head of the Parkinson family onto him, but not as the man was soon to breathe his last.

It had been retirement that Julius had expected, not the death of the man he so adored.

Still, he knew what his responsibilities were, and they would begin the moment his father was no longer with them.

Julius swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the thought and released a deep breath before entering his father's private chambers.

Never had he seen the man looking so frail, and as he seated himself in the chair next to the bed, he took the man's hand.

"You sent for me, Father?"

Thomas nodded before a coughing fit took him.

"Water," he gasped.

Julius poured him a glass and helped him take a sip to cease the coughing.

Thomas nodded gratefully and patted his son's hand.

"You're upset," he croaked.

Julius snorted humourlessly.

"You're dying."

Thomas nodded.

"All men must die, my son," he pointed out. "I did not wish for my time to come so soon, but it will soon be here, and there are things we must discuss."

He coughed once more and waved Julius off as he reached for the glass of water.

"I know what my duties are," Julius assured him.

"You do," Thomas agreed, "and you have learned everything I have to teach, but there are things you must be made aware of, things that could be as dangerous as they are advantageous."

Julius frowned questioningly, wondering if his father's mind had been weakened by his ailment.

No, his eyes, though heavy, were as sharp as they had ever been.

"During the war with Grindelwald, I was tasked with the overseeing of the Black family affairs," Thomas whispered. "It was an honour to do so, and because of it, I earned the trust and respect of Arcturus Black."

Julius's eyes widened.

To be asked to fulfil such a role by any Lord was an honour, but there was none higher than the Blacks, not a few decades ago, at least.

"Two years ago, I was asked to fulfil the same role," Thomas continued.

"On behalf of Lucius's son?"

Thomas shook his head, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.

"No."

Julius frowned.

"But with Sirius in prison, Draco is the heir of the family," he pointed out. "Lucius has taken much glee in bragging about it."

"Lucius is a fool who does not know what he speaks of," Thomas muttered. "No, it is not Draco that will be the head of the family."

"Then who?"

Thomas met his son's gaze, his expression becoming stern.

"What I am to tell you is not to be spoke of with any other," he said firmly. "I want your word that this will remain a family secret."

"You have it," Julius assured him without hesitation.

Thomas nodded satisfactorily.

"Before he was imprisoned, Sirius Black named his godson his heir, and that boy will inherit the title upon reaching his majority."

"His godson."

"None other than Harry Potter."

Julius choked at the revelation.

"Potter?"

Thomas nodded severely.

"When he comes of age, he will be one of the most powerful and influential men in the country," he explained. "I need not remind you of his already envious fame. That coupled with the power of two prominent families behind him means that he has the potential to be one of the most influential men in the country, and we are currently in a position to be in his good graces."

Julius nodded his understanding, though he had his concerns.

"So, what shall I do?"

"You will fulfil the role I accepted to look over the family matters on his behalf, and ensure they remain profitable," Thomas informed him, "for no other reason than it is an honour to do so, and that Arcturus Black was a man I respected greatly. I would not see the Black family squandered by us."

"And the Potter boy?"

"Should be afforded the respect of the positions he will one day hold," Thomas instructed. "This is quite the opportunity for us, and I would see that we keep the promises made."

"Understood," Julius assured his father.

"Good," Thomas sighed. "I'm sure you will have the opportunity to meet the boy in the future, but you should know that he is being raised by Cassiopeia Black."

Once more, Julius's eyes widened.

"Cassiopeia?" he gasped.

Thomas nodded.

"Now you understand the magnitude of your responsibilities to them. Cassiopeia is a dangerous woman, and the Potter boy will be more so when he is grown if she has a hand in his upbringing. Remember, Julius, he has the blood of the Blacks and the Potters running through his veins."

"Merlin, even if he was a squib, he could have most eating out of the palm of his hand."

"He could," Julius agreed, "but remember, this is not merely about what we can gain from this. It is about a promise to a man who I considered a close friend. That is what you must bear in mind first and foremost."

"I will, Father," Julius promised.

"Good, now let me rest boy," Thomas sighed.

End Flashback

Thomas Parkinson had passed away only a day after that conversation, and the weight of the responsibility Julius had inherited weighed heavily on his shoulders. Still, he had done as he had been bid by his father and had ensured the continued growth of the Black and Potter family wealth.

Today, at the behest of Cassiopeia Black, he would be meeting with the woman for the first time.

He had written to her upon his father's death to inform her of his ascension, and to ensure her that the Parkinson family would continue to look out for her interests and would do so discreetly.

Cassiopeia's response to his letter had been terse, but not unexpected.

Parkinson,

Give me no reason to regret my decision to seek your help, and you may live to see old age.

CB

Julius had been nothing but beneficial to both additional families and had invested wisely on their behalf.

Nonetheless, the letter inviting him to meet with her had been quite the surprise.

Cassiopeia Black expected a report of what had been done over the past few years, something Julius had prepared down to the very finest detail.

"How do I look, Daddy?"

Julius smiled as Pansy entered his study.

She was wearing a green dress with a matching ribbon in her hair, and she gave him a twirl that elicited a chuckle from the man who bent down to pick her up.

"You look wonderful," he replied.

Pansy beamed at him, and Julius adjusted the bow in her dark hair.

"Now, you remember where we are going today?"

Pansy nodded; her light brown eyes widened in excitement.

"We are meeting a very important lady."

"Good."

"And it is a special secret," Pansy continued.

"Exactly," Julius praised. "What does that mean?"

"That only you, me, and Mummy can know."

Julius smiled once more before placing a kiss on his daughter's cheek and placing her back on the ground.

"You're a smart girl, Pansy. Now, are you ready?"

Pansy nodded eagerly and Julius removed the portkey Cassiopeia had delivered to him via their family elf.

"Remember, hold on tight."

Pansy rolled her eyes at him.

"I know, Daddy," she huffed.

With a snort of amusement, Julius activated the portkey, wondering what kind of reception he would receive.

Regardless, this was an opportunity that Pansy should not miss out on.

It would one day be important for her to make connections, and this one could, as his father had explained, perhaps be the most beneficial one available.

(Break)

Cassie had intended to take Moon's advice by allowing Elgar to raise Harry during his early years. She'd never been a maternal woman, never had the urge to have children of her own, not even when her younger siblings had been born.

Her interest in them had been minimal, nothing more than a curious glance at their faces as their mother held them.

Beyond that, she had mostly ignored Arcturus and Dorea until they could speak.

Little Harry, however, had not made such a thing possible.

The morning after she has fetched him from the muggles, she had entered the kitchen to find the elf feeding the boy in a highchair, and not having the easiest time in doing so.

Harry had porridge smeared over his cheeks and had been giggling as Elgar patiently tried to feed him, but as the boy noticed Cassiopeia, he had looked up at her with those brilliant green eyes of his.

Cassie had never seen such a shade.

They almost glowed like gently flickering flames, and the expression of curiosity was not one she could easily be so dismissive of. What she did know was that they were not inherited from the Potters.

Both William and Charlus had brown eyes, and she was certain that James did too.

Harry must have gotten his from his mother.

Still, she didn't know what to do with a baby and had merely smiled awkwardly at him before fixing her own breakfast.

For the first week, she barely saw Harry, and continued living her life the way she had been for the past several decades, but she should have known better to believe that things could progress so smoothly.

The first indication she got that something wasn't right came in the middle of the eighth night he had been with her.

Cassie had been woken in the early hours to the sound of whimpering coming from the adjoining room she had allocated to the boy, a more appropriate place for the future lord of two houses to sleep.

The thought of him being left in a cupboard still angered her, and the urge to throttle his relatives had yet to abate.

With a sigh, she had left her own room and entered his to find a worried Elgar holding the seemingly sleeping boy to his chest.

"Is he sick?"

"No, Miss Black," Elgar whispered. "He is having bad dreams."

Cassiopeia frowned.

What kind of baby had bad dreams?

Still, Harry whimpered pitifully, and continued to do so when his eyes shot open a moment later.

There was a fear within them, a fear that did not belong on the face of a babe.

"Elgar doesn't know what to do, Miss," the elf murmured. "He wakes like this every night."

Cassiopeia released a deep breath as she approached, and Harry looked up at her almost pleadingly.

To this day, Cassie didn't know why she had done it, and often whished she hadn't, but with a gentle probe of legilimency, she saw what it was that haunted the boy.

She would never forget seeing the redheaded woman pleading for Harry's life nor the mocking laughter of the Dark Lord as he murdered her in front of her infant son before turning his wand on the boy.

The killing curse.

Cassie had been sceptical of the veracity of the claims that Harry had somehow survived it, but having seen the memory of the boy for herself, she no longer doubted the truth.

For Harry to remember it so vividly…

It was something that would haunt him for the rest of his days, something that would undoubtedly play a part in shaping him as he grew.

"Oh, you poor boy," she had choked as she took him from Elgar's arms and held him clumsily in her own. "He remembers it."

Elgar had nodded in response.

"He does, Miss," he whispered, "and the scar will always remind him."

"Scar?"

Elgar gently moved Harry's fringe away, revealing the red, puckered mark that marred his skin.

"That is where the curse hit him." the elf explained. "Very bad magic, Miss. Very, very bad."

Cassiopeia swallowed deeply as she rocked the boy in her arms.

Harry's dreams had continued throughout the years since, but they had eventually become less common. Though he never spoke of them, not even now at the age of four, but other than the occasional night he needed to be comforted, he had proven to be resilient.

He would need to be.

He was proving to be quite the curious child too, always asking questions to the point that the incessant pestering annoyed Cassie, something that Harry seemed to get a kick out of.

There was undoubtedly a mischievous side to him, the victorious grin he wore when he got a rise out of her, however, was still preferable to the broken child she still sometimes saw in the small hours of the night.

Harry was becoming quite the character, and Cassie had no doubt that he would get into more than his fair share of trouble in the years to come.

"Merlin help me," she murmured as she watched him playing with some of his toys in front of the fireplace.

Despite everything, Cassie was happy with how he was progressing.

Harry already had a deep interest in magic, and always watched with interest whenever she used her wand, even for the inanest things, almost as though he was trying to work out how she was doing what she was.

It was amusing to see his little face scrunch up in concentration, and how he would pout when she put her wand away.

"Harry, Lord Parkinson will be arriving shortly," she announced.

Harry only nodded in response as he set a dragon upon a score of knights, cheering as the figures ran from the beast.

Cassiopeia snorted as she shook her head.

He loved his toy dragon.

It had been a gift from Gellert for his previous birthday.

Not that Harry knew that, of course.

Cassiopeia had not mentioned the man to him but had kept Gellert abreast of all that had happened with the boy since his arrival.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the arrival of Elgar who offered her a low bow, his gaze shifting briefly towards Harry before he spoke.

The elf had grown very fond and protective of his charge.

"Miss Black, Lord Parkinson has arrived at the front gate."

"Show him in, please, Elgar."

The elf offered her another bow before disappearing with a gentle crack.

The death of the previous Lord Parkinson had come unexpectedly, and Cassiopeia had been wary about the man's son taking over Harry's interests.

She had never met the man in any capacity, and didn't know how much he could be trusted, but he had written to her and assured her the arrangement would continue as it had.

Cassie had been reluctant, but without bringing another in on her secret, there was little else that could be done.

She had given Parkinson the benefit of the doubt and knew she would have to make his acquaintance in person. For more than a year, she had put it off, but she could do so no longer.

So long as the Potter and Black family interests were being cared for suitably, she saw no reason to end the arrangement.

Cassie took a seat in a nearby armchair, and watched as a tall, well-dressed, and groomed man entered with a girl no older than Harry.

He had chestnut brown hair, and matching, intelligent eyes.

His features were sharp, but not offensively slow, and he gave her a shallow bow.

The smile Lord Parkinson offered was reserved, but not insincere, a gesture Cassiopeia appreciated.

Parkinson was not here to attempt to flatter, nor charm her with flowery words, but he understood his position, the privilege he had inherited.

"Miss Black, it is nice to finally meet you."

"And you, Lord Parkinson," Cassiopeia replied in kind.

Parkinson chuckled.

"I suppose this is quite pivotal moment for both of us. You are unsure if you can trust me the same way your brother trusted my father, and I am still unsure if I am able to assist you as well. Though I daresay, I think I have done a fair job since taking over," he spoke, removing two folders from within his robes and handing them over.

Cassiopeia accepted them and opened the first.

"I do not wish to be condescending, Miss Black, but I took the liberty of creating a simple breakdown of what I have done this past year."

Cassie nodded appreciatively as she read the figures of the Black account.

Parkinson had indeed done well.

The businesses the Blacks had invested in over the years were still profitable, and those that weren't had been sold off before they had lost any gold of note.

The Potter accounts were doing similarly well, though it was clear there was a period of time they had not been looked after well.

Still, Cassiopeia had never known how wealthy the family was, and it proved to be considerably more than she had anticipated.

"You are doing well," she commented.

Parkinson deflated, relieved that she was content.

"Thank you," he replied. "It has been quite a daunting period after losing my father."

Cassiopeia nodded her understanding.

Thomas Parkinson had not been so old that it wasn't out of the question that he could have lived for a few more decades at least.

"I see no reason why the arrangement cannot continue," she decided. "You can continue to claim 5% of profits made from both families as compensation."

"And our business will remain firmly between our families," Parkinson assured her. "I, like my father, am a man of my word."

Cassiopeia had heard the man's words, but her gaze had shifted towards Harry, and Parkinson's daughter who had joined him in front of the fireplace.

She watched curiously how they interacted.

Harry had not socialised with any other children thus far from fear that he would be recognised.

Cassiopeia knew that it was unlikely in Greece, but she did not wish to take any risks.

The two children seemed to be interacting well enough, and the girl was even laughing at something Harry said.

"He is quite the boy, isn't he?" Parkinson questioned as he too watched them. "Even now, a week barely passes without the media mentioning him, wondering where he is."

Cassiopeia frowned at the revelation.

She didn't like anyone taking too much interest in Harry.

"Are those that supported him still looking for Harry?" she asked bluntly.

Parkinson swallowed deeply.

"I don't know, I do not associate with them much outside of the Wizengamot or functions I am required to attend, but I would assume they are. The boy inadvertently caused more problems than you can understand and has enemies."

Cassiopeia nodded.

"If by some chance you hear anything, Parkinson, I would suggest that you remember what Harry will one day be. He may be a boy now, but he won't be forever, and if he decides to return to Britain, I will ensure he does so with every possible resource to bring any that would wish him harm to their knees. He will be a man to be feared and respected."

Parkinson became pensive for a moment before nodding thoughtfully.

"I do not doubt you," he replied.

"Good. Now, would you and your daughter like to join us for lunch?" she asked. "I would not send a guest away without refreshments."

Lord Parkinson looked towards his daughter who had joined in playing with Harry before nodding.

"Pansy and I would be honoured."

It was an opportunity for Cassie to continue watching Harry and how he interacted with others.

It would be an important skill for the boy, after all.

It also gave her the chance to question Lord Parkinson further, to get to know the man and perhaps his experiences in parenting.

Even after almost three years of raising Harry, Cassie felt as though she was out of her depth.

She knew nothing of children except her experiences with the Potter/Black heir.

"Harry, Lord Parkinson has agreed to join us for lunch. Go and wash your hands."

"You too, Pansy," Lord Parkinson instructed. "I'm sure Harry can show you the way."

The two children left the room, both smiling with Pansy chasing after the energetic boy.

"It makes me feel old just watching them," Parkinson sighed amusedly.

Cassiopeia hummed.

"Harry is a good boy," she declared.

"Even after everything he went through?"

Cassiopeia nodded.

"Despite everything, he is one of the good ones."

Parkinson looked at her questioningly, but thought better than to pry.

The children returned only a moment after the two had taken their seats, breathless from running through the corridors of the house.

Harry's robes were soaked, and Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"I made a mess," he murmured.

Pansy rolled her eyes.

"I splashed him," she declared. "Only because he was going to do it to me."

"I was not," Harry denied. "Well, maybe a little bit."

Pansy grinned victoriously, and Lord Parkinson shook his head.

"Perhaps you should both sit, and then the urge to throw water at one another will be quelled," he suggested.

The children smirked sheepishly at each other before doing so, and Cassie watched them as they put their heads together and began talking animatedly.

It was as though they had been friends for years, and she felt a pang of guilt for isolating him from the world, but it was for his own safety.

"How old was Pansy when she had her first bout of accidental magic?" Cassiopeia asked Lord Parkinson curiously.

"Just before she turned three," the man answered proudly. "Her mother's hair was orange for a week. What about Harry?"

"Around the same age," Cassiopeia lied before taking a mouthful of soup Elgar had served them.

Harry had only been with her a month before his magic had begun manifesting, and, seemed to become more volatile when he was experienced heightened emotions in the middle of the night.

Cassie had lost count of how many times she'd had to repair things in his room.

"Was it just the hair?"

Parkinson chuckled as he shook his head.

"We've had plates of vegetables banished across the room, and even a cat being levitated after it tried to run away," he explained.

If only Cassiopeia had to deal with such simple incidents.

Along with his tendency to destroy things, Harry had somehow managed to summon things from across the room several times, and even heat it up considerably when Cassiopeia had forgotten to add more wood to his fire.

The most impressive feat of magic, however, had been when he'd set fire to a nest of hornets in the garden after one of them had stung him.

Not that she would mention such things to the man she was sharing lunch with.

It was not something he needed to know, though it did make Cassiopeia question just how normal these bouts of accidental magic were.

Perhaps she would discuss them with Gellert?

She was due to visit him and hadn't done so since he had presented her with Harry's birthday gift.

They had not parted on the best of terms when Gellert had refused to share his ever-developing plans for Harry with her, but it wasn't the first time they had fallen out, and nor would it be the last.

"He looks very much like his father," Lord Parkinson commented, pulling Cassiopeia from her thoughts. "The eyes are definitely his mother's."

"The redhead mudblood?"

"Lily Evans," Parkinson confirmed. "She was a very gifted witch. I suppose that is why Charlus Potter agreed to allow his son to marry her."

Cassiopeia frowned.

She had pondered why Charlus would break tradition, and her sister even more so.

Dorea may have been more tolerant than the rest of the family, but she was still a Black, a traditionalist at heart.

"You knew her?"

"Not as such," Parkinson denied, "but my generation knew of her, even more so now. There are rumours that she found a protection against the killing curse."

It was something else that Cassiopeia had spent time thinking about.

Just how had Harry survived the killing curse?

She knew that Dumbledore undoubtedly had a theory, but she had heard nothing from the man since the night they had retrieved Harry.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Parkinson shook his head.

"I wouldn't even wish to speculate," he sighed. "It is fantastical enough to believe without the added headache of questioning how."

Cassiopeia agreed wholeheartedly with the man, but she was still determined to uncover the truth.

If Lily Potter had managed to discover such a protection, she must have been certain of it to have enough faith that it would protect her son.

'No, not Harry…'

The final plea of a desperate mother sent a shiver down her spine as it always did whenever Cassie thought of it.

There was no denying that Lily Potter loved her son, and it saddened Cassiopeia to think that Harry would never know his parents.

The boy had never even asked about them, the dreams that haunted him evidently enough of an explanation.

It was something Cassie was grateful for, but sometimes, she wished he would ask for the sake of closure.

"Can we play in the garden, Aunt Cass?" Harry asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Cassiopeia offered the boy a smile and nodded.

"Stay away from the cliffs," she warned, "and out of the broom shed. I do not think Lord Parkinson will be pleased to find Pansy in the air."

"Yes, Aunt Cassie," Harry sighed before leading the girl from the room.

"He flies already?" Parkinson asked.

"I wish he wouldn't," Cassie huffed, "but it makes him happy, and he's a natural."

Parkinson chuckled.

"I suppose he gets that from his father," he mused aloud. "There were rumours that James Potter had been approached to play Quidditch professionally. If it wasn't for the war, he probably would have played for England. I remember him at Hogwarts. He was an excellent flier."

"Did you know him?"

Parkinson shook his head.

"No, he was a Gryffindor and a few years younger than me," he explained. "I remember Lucius complaining about playing against him. McGonagall used to gush at how gifted he was at transfiguration."

Cassiopeia hummed thoughtfully.

"What about Harry's mother?"

"Well, she spent a lot of time with Slughorn, so I suppose she was quite brilliant at potions if he took so much interest in her, but if I'm remembering correctly, she was more interested in charms."

Cassiopeia appreciated the information.

Although James Potter was her nephew, she knew nothing about him. Her existence had been an isolated one, so her knowledge on those back home was sorely lacking, something she would need to rectify in the years to come.

"I think we should perhaps check on them," Cassiopeia sighed. "Harry has quite the mischievous side to him when he's in the mood."

"All boys do," Parkinson pointed out as he stood to follow.

"Oh, no, Harry is exceptionally cheeky when he feels the need to be. Just ask Elgar what the boy did to his apron when he refused him extra dessert."

"Master is a naughty boy," Elgar muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips as he cleared away the plate and bowls.

Parkinson had an expression of curiosity, but he didn't press the matter, and followed Cassie as she headed towards the back door.

"They seem to be quite taken with each other," he commented when he spotted Harry and Pansy hunched by one of the bushes.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at the man.

"I do hope that you're not cementing an early intention for a marriage contract, Lord Parkinson."

The man held up his hands placatingly as he chuckled.

"I know my place in our society, Miss Black," he assured her. "For my daughter to marry into either the Potter or Black family would be more than I could ever expect for her, let alone the Lord of both. No, I was merely pointing out that they seem to be getting on."

Cassie deflated as she nodded.

"They are," she conceded. "Harry doesn't get to mix with others, for his safety."

Parkinson nodded his understanding.

"I would be equally cautious if I were in your position," he explained, "though your reputation is still rather formidable back home. Even if it was known he was here with you, very few would be foolish enough to try anything."

"My reputation would only ever go so far to protect him," Cassie pointed out. "It will have to be Harry they respect, and they will, Lord Parkinson. By the time I am done with him, he will be more than capable of putting anyone in their place."

"I do not doubt it," Parkinson replied with a bow.

Cassiopeia nodded, pleased that the man had gotten the message before turning her attention to her charge.

"What are you doing, Harry?" she questioned as she approached the children.

"Harry is talking to the snake!" Pansy explained excitedly.

"Talking to the snake?" Cassiopeia asked confusedly, her mouth falling agape and her heart sinking as she came upon them.

Harry indeed had a brown snake with black markings down its spine wrapped around his arm and the flat head resting on his bicep.

Even more shocking, however, was that the boy was hissing gently, and the creature was seemingly listening to him.

"Harry, put the snake down," Cassiopeia gasped as she drew her wand.

"No, Aunt Cass, he's friendly," Harry protested. "He just wants something to eat."

Cassiopeia swallowed deeply.

"Can you understand it?"

Harry nodded as he smiled brightly.

"He says that he's been living in our garden since he hatched."

Much to Cassie's surprise, the snake actually nodded at her, her gaze shifted to Lord Parkinson who was in a similar state of disbelief as her.

"Okay, Harry, put the snake back," she instructed calmly. "You can visit him again later."

"Fine," Harry conceded grumpily, placing the hissing snake back in the bush.

"Now, go and wash your hands. Merlin knows what germs he has on him."

"You too, Pansy," Lord Parkinson added.

The children left, both seemingly unaware of the magnitude of what had happened.

"He's a parselmouth," Parkinson murmured. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Cassie replied, her mind drifting to the only other known parselmouth who had been in Harry's life.

She had been learning what she could about Voldemort over the past couple of years, and though there was little information readily available, the man had publicly claimed to be the heir of Slytherin and a known, prolific parselmouth.

"Is it possible Lily Evans was related to Slytherin?" Parkinson questioned.

"She was a mudblood," Cassie pointed out, "but there is always a chance."

She didn't believe for one moment that Lily Potter was a relative of the Slytherin family and was more inclined to believe that Harry came about his ability via what transpired the night Voldemort had come for the Potters.

"I would urge you to keep this information quiet," Parkinson spoke urgently. "You-Know-Who was one, and the reputation has only suffered more over the years he was around. I will, of course, say nothing of what I saw, and neither will Pansy."

Cassiopeia nodded gratefully.

"Your discretion on the matter is appreciated, Lord Parkinson."

"Julius," the man corrected. "If I am to oversee the affairs of both families, you may call me Julius. For now, I will continue with my work, and I must say, I look forward to seeing the boy grow and what he will become. Pansy, it is time for us to leave," he declared as the children returned. "Say your goodbyes. I'm sure Miss Black will allow you to visit again."

Both children looked hopefully at her, and with a nod, they wore matching smiles as Lord Parkinson took his daughter by the arm and activated a portkey that would take them home.

Suddenly, the urge to see Gellert had become pressing, the latest development with Harry having unsettled the woman, and yet, the innocence of the smile he wore brought her a semblance of comfort, despite the trepidation she felt.

(Break)

Gellert was tending to his birds when he heard the familiar footfalls of one of his visitors, though the pace of them was much more frantic than usual. Placing the little thrush in its cage, he turned to be greeted by the sight of a pale Cassiopeia, her worried expression causing him to frown.

"He's a parselmouth, Gellert," the woman whispered.

"Who is?"

"Harry!"

"I see," Gellert murmured. "The Potters have never married into the Slytherin line?"

Cassiopeia shook her head.

"His mother, perhaps?"

"No, she was a mudblood."

Gellert tutted.

"I do not believe Harry will appreciate you referring to his mother as such," he chided. "Just because you believe she was a muggleborn, it doesn't make it so. It is possible that a member of the Slytherin family had a child that no scholar knows of. Albus investigated them thoroughly enough, what was her name?"

"Evans."

"Evans," Gellert murmured. "I feel that I should know the name, but its meaning escapes me."

"He didn't get it from his parents!" Cassiopeia snapped. "It came from him, didn't it? He somehow infected Harry with his magic."

Gellert shook his head.

"No, magic does not work that way," he mused aloud. "Any of Voldemort's magic should have been purged from Harry's system by his own. If Harry did indeed inherit the ability from him, then something else must have occurred that night."

"What?" Cassiopeia asked desperately.

"I do not know," Gellert admitted, "but I will ponder it. I expect I will have an explanation in due course."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Nothing," Gellert answered. "So long as Harry is happy and healthy, then I do not believe you need to be alarmed. If it were something so serious to him, I believe it would have manifested itself by now."

Cassiopeia seemed to be comforted by his words and deflated.

"How is the boy, other than the latest development?"

The question brought a rare smile to Cassiopeia's lips, and Gellert smirked too.

She had come to care for the boy, though she would likely deny it if he mentioned such.

"He's quite brilliant," Cassiopeia praised. "He's inquisitive and interested in magic."

"Excellent," Gellert declared.

"And he really loves the dragon you made for him," she continued. "He uses it to attack his other toys and they have to try to fend off the marauding beast."

Gellert chuckled amusedly.

"I did not expect him to get so much joy from such a simple thing."

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at him.

"Only you would call that magic simple."

"Magic?" Gellert questioned confusedly.

Cassiopeia nodded.

"It's so life-like the way it flies around," she explained. "It even flies above him when he is sleeping at night. Harry says it helps keep the bad dreams away."

"Cass, the dragon I gave you was nothing more than a piece of wood I carved. I do not have the means to animate or enchant anything."

"But it flies," Cassiopeia said dumbly. "It even roars and sits on his shoulder. Could Harry have done it by accident?"

Gellert shook his head.

"Accidental magic is a sudden occurrence, a short burst of unrestrained power that has an unpredictable effect. What you're describing is quite an intricate animation at the very least. Maybe the elf?"

"No," Cassiopeia denied quietly. "Elgar didn't touch it. It came to life the moment Harry did."

Gellert sunk into his chair.

No, it couldn't be possible that the boy had done it at such a young age, but there was no other explanation. If the elf didn't do it, it must have been Harry.

Gellert chuckled to himself out of the excitement and curiosity he felt.

"I think it is something you should discuss with the boy," he declared. "Ask him just how he managed it."

"You truly believe it was Harry?"

Gellert nodded.

"I think it is a distinct possibility," Gellert replied. "Now, leave me to my thoughts. You have given me much to consider."

Cassiopeia said nothing else as she did as she was bid and Gellert simply shook his head.

The parseltongue ability had raised many questions, and what Harry had seemingly done with the dragon only added more.

Gellert faced quite the conundrum indeed, but he had meant what he'd said to his former protégé.

He had no doubt that he would figure it out, but what he'd learned was unheard of.

Such a magical feat at such an early age certainly meant that the boy was possibly exceedingly talented, but Gellert could not ignore the thought that the inherited ability he shared with his parent's murderer was quite troubling indeed.