Chapter 21

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Chapter 21: Bloodlines and Shadows

Grimmauld Place exuded its usual air of oppressive silence as Harry stepped through the heavy door. The house seemed to breathe with its own shadows, a relic of ancient magic and old secrets. Harry made his way into the parlor, where Arcturus Black and a goblin awaited him.

The goblin was sharp-featured, with an air of meticulous precision. He sat at a low table, a scroll of parchment and a finely crafted quill before him. Arcturus stood near the fireplace, his posture as rigid as the Black family traditions, though his expression softened slightly as he acknowledged Harry's arrival.

"You're prompt," Arcturus noted, gesturing for Harry to take a seat.

Harry inclined his head. "Thank you for arranging this." He addressed both the older wizard and the goblin, his tone courteous but guarded.

The goblin's sharp eyes studied Harry for a moment before he slid a small silver blade and a vial across the table. "Your blood, Mr. Potter."

Harry picked up the blade without hesitation, pricking his finger. A single drop of blood fell into the vial, gleaming like a ruby. He handed it back, his gaze steady.

"Thank you for doing this here," Harry said, watching the goblin work. "I don't trust anyone else with my blood."

The goblin's thin lips curled into a faint smirk. "Wise. Blood magic is the foundation of many ancient spells—and curses. Goblins know its value better than most."

Arcturus nodded in agreement. "Only fools hand over something so potent without thought."

The goblin dipped his quill into the vial, his movements precise as he began inscribing on the parchment. The room was silent save for the scratch of the quill and the crackle of the fire.

Moments later, the goblin leaned back, holding up the completed papers. "It is done. These documents are flawless. You are officially Harry Potter."

Harry took the parchment and scanned it quickly. His name was there, intricately tied to Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, who were noted as his late parents. However, his middle name—James—was conspicuously absent, redacted by design.

"The omission?" Harry asked, glancing at Arcturus.

The older man's lips twitched into a knowing smile. "Subtlety, my boy. It's easier to avoid unnecessary questions if no one thinks to connect you directly to your father. James is a name too closely tied to your time."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere.

The goblin rose, bowing slightly to Arcturus. "My work is complete. I will take my leave."

Arcturus returned the bow. "Your discretion is appreciated, as always."

With a faint pop, the goblin disappeared, leaving Harry and Arcturus alone in the dimly lit room.

Arcturus held the papers for a moment before tucking them into a leather-bound portfolio. His eyes flicked to Harry. "You have what you need. What's next?"

Harry hesitated before glancing around the room, his thoughts drifting. "Where are the other Blacks?"

Arcturus's expression darkened. "Scattered," he said grimly, his voice heavy with disdain. "The Dark Lord's madness has no bounds. Even the most devout pureblood families are beginning to see reason—or fear."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What about your immediate family?"

Arcturus sighed, the lines on his face deepening. "After Walburga mysteriously disappeared following her open criticism of the Dark Lord's methods, the rest of the family decided to lay low. Orion, Cygnus, and their offspring have retreated to my property abroad—the one I lived in during my exile. Only Sirius and the Black sisters are unaccounted for."

Harry absorbed the information, his jaw tightening. The mention of Walburga's fate stirred no sympathy, but the ripple effect of her disappearance was evident.

Arcturus turned his sharp gaze to Harry. "The House of Black has weathered many storms, but even our pride has limits. I refuse to let this family be destroyed by a lunatic who values nothing."

Harry nodded slowly, his respect for the man growing. Arcturus Black may have been stern and unyielding, but his commitment to his family was undeniable.

"You've made the right choice," Harry said quietly.

Arcturus's lips curved into a faint smile. "We shall see. For now, you have a name and an identity. Use them wisely."

"I will," Harry promised.

As the fire burned low, the room settled into a thoughtful silence. Two men—one from a fading world, the other a traveler from a lost future—shared a moment of unspoken understanding, their paths intertwined by fate and the bloodlines they sought to protect.