The Early Years 10

... ...

I sat cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by no light save from one source. In front of me, swirled the dark, almost pulsating orb that served as the core of the various wards and defences of Dunscaith Castle. As with every time I was near it, there was something strangely hypnotic about the way shadows shifted around inside the orb, radiating power and potential that simply waited for me to grasp. Yet, while the urge to do so was ever-present, I knew not to give into it as the magic cascading from the orb threatened to overwhelm those it deemed unworthy of its presence.

The only saving grace I had now, at least compared to my first time here nearly six months ago, was that I now had the torc designating me as The MacLeod. That, for reasons I had yet to determine beyond them being linked to the magic within my bloodline, was preventing the ancient, powerful, almost terrifying, and enticing - all in an equal manner – magic of the orb from attempting to overwhelm my senses as it had done when I’d first sought control of the wards.

Now, back then, I’d not understood what was happening, or why I was drawn here, but after months as The MacLeod, and half as long coming down here at least once a week to meditate, I felt I had an inkling of why. Having spoken with my ancestors, I’d learnt that every MacLeod of MacLeod was drawn to the core, trying to truly prove their dominance of it and gain access to the deep, almost forgotten magic it contained. My great-grandfather had been clear in that, from his time speaking with his ancestors, or at least their Dealbhan Nas Motha - or Greater Portraits in English - that the stronger the magic within The MacLeod, the harder it was to approach the orb. Conversely, the stronger one’s magic was, the more they could, with time, effort, and determination, learn secrets from the orb.

The portraits of my older ancestors were housed in a deeper section of the Inner Library, with the oldest painting being of William MacLeod, who was The MacLeod sometime in the fourteenth century. While I’d met with each of those ancestors, I’d not spent much time around them. The sheer number of ancestors meant dealing with all of them would be a fucking handful. Thankfully, William’s great-great-grandson had devised a system where only the previous three generations of The MacLeod and their spouse would appear in the Inner Library. Any MacLeod of MacLeod could, in theory, bring the painting of another ancestor out of what I termed the Memory Vault, but to keep things relevant, only recent ancestors were placed in the Inner Library. If I had children, then when my eldest succeeded me, my great-grandparents would head to the Memory Vault.

While having access to knowledge going by six hundred years was fucking insane – and going to make learning magical history interesting – having part of yourself trapped forever in a painting that would never fail, at least so long as magic ran through the galls of Dunscaith Castle, was concerning. In essence, you would never die, and instead spend eternity trapped inside the frame of your portrait. Indeed, some ancestors had chosen to not have themselves denied the chance to fully move to the Next Great Adventure, with the last such person being my great-great-great-grandfather.

Regardless of whether I chose to be encased in a portrait when my time came or not, the fact I had that resource was something I planned to use as I grew older. While the knowledge that many of my ancestors might contain could be invalid due to changes that happened over the centuries, learning why one House or Clan had a longstanding feud with another from someone alive when the feud started had the potential to be extremely valuable. However, I was warned that Clan MacLeod wasn’t the only magical family in the Isles with such a resource. To say nothing of Europe and beyond.

However, that was not why I was meditating near the orb-core of the castle. No, I was doing this for two reasons. The first being that I wanted to learn the deep, possibly forgotten secrets the orb contained. And if I could, how it was made and by whom, as none of my ancestors truly knew where the orb had come from. That knowledge had been lost in the time before the Greater Portraits started being used by my bloodline.

The other reason that I meditated here was that I found it an oddly calming place, one that seemed to help me connect with my magic in some instinctual way. After the Winter Solstice ball, which I was glad I’d not have to attend again until after at least my OWLs, Arcturus and my great-grandfather had explained further about how Magical Potential worked, and critically, how it took time, effort, and a great understanding of the nature of the person, their connection to magic, and what sort of person they were, before they could unlock their full potential.

For most magicals, unlocking their full potential took place around their sixteenth birthday. Now, they’d been clear that this wasn’t the case for all magicals. Or that someone before unlocking their full potential couldn’t defeat an older, more experienced magical. Just that, this was the median point where the majority of magicals unlocked the magic within themselves fully. Both felt that, even with my earlier start as a Clan Chief, and access to the teaching of my ancestors, it was unlikely that I’d unlock my full potential before I was sixteen. However, they agreed that, if I progressed at even the normal rate of unlocking, I’d start to separate myself from my peers long before then.

While everything they said made sense, I felt I could unlock every pathway, every thread of magic that ran in and through me before that median date. And since the magic of the orb was, I felt, linked to Embrace of the Shadows, then by meditating here, I might well be able to kill two birds with one stone.

So far, there’d been no hint I’d gained any insight into Shadow Magic, but I had felt my connection to magic, both within myself and the wider world, become clearer. With years to go until I attended Hogwarts, I hoped unlocking my potential would continue to progress, and perhaps I might gain the first insight into how to manipulate shadows.

Time passed without meaning down here, which was another thing I enjoyed. I enjoyed my classes, be they with my ancestors, Arcturus, Melania, my aunts and uncles or the small number of trusted tutors that I now had. However, the strict, formal structure of every day wore on me. While my mind was a combination that had over forty years of knowledge within it, I was physically immature and found enjoyment in being young.

Now, I did enjoy time spent with the Black children and my cousins, but most of them were far too interested in either goofing around – Sirius being the obvious example there – or in trying, in their childlike manner, to worm their way into my confidence. Narcissa, Adele and Magnus were the worst for that.

I also had Kadic hovering around me. I knew why he was doing it, and was grateful for the protection, but sometimes I just needed private time, which meant going to the Master Study or coming down here to the core. While the Inner Library was an option, my ancestors preferred to be situated there, so on any day bar those they wished to speak with my uncles or aunts, that was where they rested.

A shift in the orb, as if something dangerous – but not, in my opinion, malevolent – was moving around inside caught my attention. The shifting, swirling nature of the shapes that moved but never quite came into focus was oddly calming and enticing. The orb, or at least the magic inside, felt alive, and I wondered if that was true for other sources of magic or places that had been steeped in magic for centuries. However, since most such places were, like Dunscaith Castle, home to Ancient, or older, Houses, it was unlikely I’d ever learn if that was the case for them. Hogwarts, and perhaps the Ministry, might be the best places to discover that. However, I was only eight now and still had nearly two and a half years to go until I could enter the Great Hall of Hogwarts for the first time.

… …

----------------------------------------

… …

“What are you doing for the Solstice?” I turned and looked at Sirius as if he had grown a second head even as he continued speaking. “My mum wants us to go to see our family in France,” he made a face indicating how unappealing that idea was, “but I’d rather stay home. Well, maybe not if Kreacher is there,” he added as we sat at the kitchen table of Le Domaine Noir, waiting for said elf to finish making breakfast, which smelled delightful.

Since I felt safer around the Blacks now, and to get me out of Dunscaith Castle where I lived with just Kadic, my ancestors had insisted that during the holidays I spent time with my friends and relatives. So far I’d spent time with the families of aunts Fiona and Moire and was now staying with the Blacks at Le Domaine Noir. From tonight though I’d be returning home, as I wanted to spend the next few days around only my closest family. Magnus, Talulla, Tegan, and Áine MacDougall would all come over and spend the next few days with us, with aunts Fiona and Moire along with Marcas MacDougall, my uncle and Áine’s Wizengamot-appointed Guardian.

“Sirius,” Andromeda snapped, annoyed at her cousin before offering me a soft smile. “Sorry. My cousin, for all his energy, seems to dislike thinking before speaking.”

“It’s fine,” I replied, ignoring the reminder that the Summer Solstice, and the anniversary of my family being murdered, was a few weeks away. I turned back to Sirus, “To answer your question, I’ll be spending the day with my cousins, including Áine MacDougall.”

“But why?!” The future Lord Black whined, sounding so much like a dog about to be dragged to a vet that I had to fight back a chuckle. “Why would you want to hang out with a girl when you’ve got me? Oh, and Reg,” he added, gesturing at his younger brother.

Regulus had started hanging around me whenever we were together, and I wasn’t speaking with Arcturus, Melania, or other adult members of House Black. However, as time passed, that was happening less and less. I suspected the adults didn’t want to bore me with too much information about the comings and goings of the Wizengamot and the Ministry, but perhaps they simply wanted me to bond with the children. We were still years from Hogwarts, but I understood the value of having connections before attending the school, to say nothing of graduating and taking my place alongside the other Lords and Chiefs.

“Because, you unintelligent ignoramus, the Summer Solstice isn’t a happy event for him anymore.” The reply came from Bellatrix as she walked into the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back, held in place by an ornate clasp, keeping it from swishing around as she walked into the room. Under one arm she held a book that, as she moved closer, I saw was A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch; one of the textbooks used by First-years. “I’m sorry that you have to spend time around this stuttering buffoon,” she added as she approached the table and took a seat beside Andromeda.

Between me and the pair was the youngest sister, Narcissa, while Sirus and the Regulus sat to my left. Since the table was circular, and like everything in Le Domaine Noir made to the highest possible standards, I was easily able to see everyone. That included Altair, Antares, Corvus, Lyra, Vega, and Ursa. Those six were from branches of the family that I’d only met this summer and descended from Lycoris, one of Arcturus’ two brothers. Both brothers – Lycoris and Regulus – had died, with Lycoris passing away last year because of Dragon Pox.

Altair, Corvus, Lyra and Ursa were the children of Draco, Lycoris’ first son, while from his second son, Scorpius, came Antares and Vega. Lycoris had also had a daughter, who was married to the current Lord of House Yaxley. Regulus (brother of Arcturus) hadn’t married, devoting himself instead to the Department of Mysteries, and he had died at some point in 1959 in a research project. I suspected there was more to that story, but I’d not pushed for more information as it felt like a personal matter between House Black and the Department of Mysteries.

The extra Black children - which would, provided he was born, push Draco Malfoy far down the line of inheritance – had their ages spread around fairly. Altair was the same age as Andromeda, while the youngest, Corvus, was two years younger than Regulus (brother of Sirius). If not for being able to organise my memories now due to Emotionless Recall, I’d struggle to instantly remember which person went where in the family tree as the Blacks enjoyed recycling names through the generations. Though I didn’t have much ground to complain about that, as there’d been six former Chiefs of Clan MacLeod before me named Dòmhnall.

Once I was certified as a Level 2 Occlumens, I’d be able to organise my memories better, without any emotional attachment to them. That would make it easier to pull on the various memories quickly without the effort it took now to focus properly. According to Melania and the tutor she’d arranged for those lessons, I should be able to pass the examination before All Hallows Eve, if not sooner. While I was young, I had, in the words of my tutor, a remarkably organised mind for one so young, which helped with the lowest levels of occlumency.

Sirius gave me a wide smile, one that I knew he was planning something, before looking at his cousin. “Merlin, Bella. Why so serious?” He asked, and everyone at the table moaned before glaring at me.

“Sorry,” I muttered even as Sirius started laughing, though it reminded me more of the yapping of a small, annoying dog. “If Lord Arcturus would allow it, I’d pay for a Legilimens to remove the memory of the day I taught that to him.”

I’d taught him that line and other wordplays for his name in an attempt to build bridges with him. However, he was, to put it mildly, abusing them so much that I feared it was affecting my relationship with the rest of House Black.

“Perhaps it would be better to simply wipe his entire mind?” Altair asked.

“I’ve considered that many times,” Bellatrix remarked as she pulled her wand from a holster on her arm. Since I’d not seen it as she’d walked in, I suspected it was held in a disillusioned holster, just as I did with mine. Though since she wasn’t a Lord, Chief, married or betrothed to one, it wouldn’t have the range of protective features mine did. At least not officially. “However, Father was quite insistent that I not attempt such magic until at least my fifth year.”

I paused and tapped my chin. “Perhaps there is another way.” I held the look, keeping my narrowed eyes on my distant cousin. The others at the table seemed to sense I was up to something, and all watched, curious as to what I might be considering. Eventually, Sirius stopped laughing and looked at me, concern slowly spreading over his face. “Yes, I believe that will work.”

“What will work?” Sirius asked slowly, hints of fear creeping into his voice.

After giving him the most sinister smile that I could manage – which was a challenge as I was eight – I slipped from my seat. “Kreacher, where can I find either Lord Black or Heir Black?”

“Master be in the Master Study. Does Little Chieftain want Kreacher to take you there?”

“No, no. You stay and look after the other children.” I turned, giving Sirius another long, hard stare. “I’ll speak to Lord Black myself.” I turned and walked from the room, mirroring how I’d seen Arcturus move when dealing with a situation he seemed uninterested in.

“Dom, Dom! DOM!”

I ignored Sirius’ screams for fear and slipped from the room, making my way toward the Master Study. While I knew the way, I was aware that I’d not be able to enter without permission from Arcturus or Orion granting me entry. While I had some Black blood, I was from a maternal line and had several restrictions on where I could go, and what I could do in the Black Manor, much as was the case for my cousins from Aunts Fiona and Moire and Áine MacDougall.

Once I’d passed from sight of the kitchen, I slowed my pace wondering if Sirius would run after me, hoping to stop me from doing whatever it was I planned. Hearing footsteps I moved to one side of the hall, slipping behind a statue of Lord Scorpius Black who’d been The Black at some point in the twelfth century.

As the person chasing me slipped passed, I blinked, surprised to see it was Bellatrix who had come and not her cousin. “You are not who I was expecting,” I said, slipping from my hiding spot.

I’d made no move to surprise her, yet Bellatrix showed good instincts. As she turned, a hand moved to where her wand holster was. While she had to know she was safe in her family home, she still reached for a wand when surprised. That was interesting and had me curious as to what would cause her to act that way, and why – if as I assumed, it was caused by something or someone at Hogwarts – it was allowed to continue by the staff and parents.

“Merlin! Are you trying to get stunned?!” She snapped after realising it was me. Her hand stayed near her holster, but she made no move to draw the wand.

“No, simply stating the fact I expected Sirius to chase after me,” I replied, ignoring that the older, and theoretically better-skilled witch, was standing near me; one hand ready to draw her weapon.

Now, I knew that while she was only a First Year at Hogwarts, she’d been tutored in her spells as soon as she was old enough to get a wand. However, I felt that, if it came down to it, I could give a good showing of myself. While my range of spells and incantations might be lacking in comparison, my wand was one designed specifically for me, and that mattered. In addition, I was far from the young boy she saw, which would result in her underestimating me, while I knew what she would one day become, and was, perhaps overestimating her abilities.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

I felt the faintest brush up against my mind and instantly raised my shields to their highest levels. “You think that highly of me?” She asked, her anger at my surprise slipping away as she caught the faint hint of my thoughts, and how I regarded her. The fact she’d so easily read my surface thoughts was a clear indicator of how far I still had to go with Occlumency before I was ready for Hogwarts. To say nothing of what lay beyond school.

“You are from House Black, and when I asked Lord Black about Magical Potential, he referred to you as the most powerful of your generation.” Which was the truth, so long as I ignored that Arcturus had also mentioned Sirius had Hyperýpsilos or Very High Magical Potential.

My comment drew a smile from Bellatrix, though there was a spark of something else there; something I knew had, in another world, developed into insanity after years of fighting and then decades in Azkaban. Yet oddly, I found that spark interesting. I wondered how I might gain the loyalty of Sirius and Regulus before James Potter and Voldemort did, however until the Winter Solstice Ball, I’d not considered the idea of taking away any of the other players of power.

Part of that was, I admit, a failure to expand my thoughts beyond the heirs of House Black. Though given Narcissa’s apparent early interest in me – something I blamed her parents for – I’d done my best to keep my distance from the Black Sisters. Something that had extended to my female cousins once I learnt they were alive and started mingling with them.

Yet, during and after the Ball, I’d realised there was, perhaps, a chance to if not turn Bellatrix away from Voldemort, then to create a friendship that might prevent her diving off the deep end into insanity serving Voldemort had brought. However, not long after she had returned to Hogwarts, and this sleepover with the Blacks was the first chance I’d had to continue getting to know Bellatrix.

“Truly?” I nodded and she smirked, amused at the knowledge. “I knew my potential, obviously, but I was unaware of anyone else in my family. Thank you for that juicy morsel.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now,” she leaned closer, a mischievous, possibly dangerous, smile dancing on her face. “What exactly are you planning to do to get back at our insane cousin?”

“Honestly, nothing.” She blinked, entirely unprepared for my answer. “I was just going to wander close to the Master Study, hang around for five minutes then go back to breakfast.”

Bellatrix blinked again, and then slowly, as the intent of my prank sunk in, started to make a sound somewhere between a giggle and a chuckle. “Oh, that is simply brilliant!” she said after recovering from the moment of understanding. “Sirius will grow concerned about what he did, so much so that when you fail to tell him what Grandfather said, he may well go to him directly. And once there, he may well walk himself into trouble by admitting how his puns have been irritating the rest of us.”

“That’s my hope, yes.”

“Merlin! That’s…” she paused, searching for a word, only to start laughing. Before I knew it, she’d moved closer and started rubbing my hair.

“HEY!” I complained, trying to slip from her grasp. However, Bellatrix was taller, and stronger, and had caught me off guard, so I was unable to slip away until my hair was well and truly messed up. “Do you have to do that?!” I snarled, not liking the reminder of how young I was.

“Oh behave,” Bellatrix responded with a smile that turned oddly. “It’s not like I did what some of my friends said I should.”

“Wait, what?!” I blurted out, causing her smile to turn into something that somehow, even coming from a twelve-year-old, scared me. “you know what,” I said, turning and moving back to the kitchen, “I don’t want to know.”

Behind me, Bellatrix started giggling, and while it wasn’t a deranged sound, I felt a shiver run down my spine. “Yes, you’re probably right.” She moved closer and placed an arm around my shoulder. “Now come along. It’s time to not reveal what my dear cousin’s punishment will be.”

I allowed her to half drag me back to the kitchen, marvelling at the fact I was pranking Sirius Black with the help of Bellatrix.

Sometimes my life was fucking surreal.

… …

----------------------------------------

… …

“Today, as we stand on this sacred ground, let us cast our minds back to the dark chapter that unfolded exactly one year ago,” Minister Leech began as he stood on a podium and spoke to those gathered. Mainly, that was families and friends of the various clans that had been present at the Summer Solstice Massacre, but there was also a large contingent of reporters, from what I could gather, the majority coming from across Europe.

“What transpired here was not merely an act of aggression; it was a vile and despicable assault orchestrated by those who sought to undermine the very essence of our society. These families, revered as the bedrock of the Scottish magical community, stand not only as guardians of our heritage but as living embodiments of the profound history and rich culture that courses through the veins of these cherished Isles.”

While the massacre of my family and the other Clans was a local event, the fact that twelve elder magical families had been attacked was newsworthy across a good chunk of the magical world. As many members of the clans had married into foreign families over the years, dozens of prominent magical families had some tangential interest in the massacre.

“In the dead of night, these pillars of our community were mercilessly targeted, their tranquil slumber shattered by the malevolence of faceless perpetrators. For reasons unfathomable to us, these individuals believed that annihilating entire families, subjecting mothers to the horrific sight of their innocent children meeting a tragic end, and forcing young ones to confront the grisly spectacle of their parents drenched in crimson, could ever be deemed acceptable. Let me make it unequivocally clear: it was not, and it shall never be.”

Because of that, the Ministers of Magic and or other officials from the Magical French Republic, The United German States, The Lowland Confederation, and the Norse League – which was composed of the landmass representing the muggle countries of Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and sections of Canada including Newfoundland – were present. Ambassadors from various other magical governments, including the Magical Union of North America, the Greek Free States, the Russian Winter Union, and the Glorious Magical LongHua Dynasty.

“We, the noble citizens of this land, refuse to descend to the level of mere beasts. We are a people united by our resilience, our unwavering commitment to justice, and our steadfast belief in the inherent goodness that resides within each and every one of us. I solemnly pledge to you, in the presence on this hallowed ground, that those responsible for this reprehensible act shall face the full might of our justice system. Hear my words, for they carry the weight of an unyielding promise.”

I’d met each governmental representative before the service had begun, and all had expressed their sadness at the tragedy that occurred a year ago. Most were impressed that I, as a boy of seven at the time, had managed to assume control of the wards of my family’s ancestral home, with some noting that such an event was extremely rare. Several had also mentioned wanting to speak with me privately after the service, with a few hinting at them having held connections with my family that, perhaps, were not to be discussed in public.

“Let it be known that we shall not rest until every stone has been turned, every clue unravelled, and every ounce of truth has been unearthed. We shall pursue the path of righteousness with unwavering determination, guided by the unwritten laws of compassion and righteousness that bind us together. The perpetrators who dared to disrupt the harmony of our existence shall soon realise the futility of their actions, for justice will find them wherever they may hide.”

I’d thanked the various dignitaries for their words of sympathy and support in finding those responsible, but each time it did, I struggled to not glare at Minister Leech. For the first few months after being revealed as The MacLeod, I’d received regular letters regarding the progress of the investigation into who was responsible for the Massacre. Yet, since the Winter Solstice Ball, those letters had stopped. Or at least the ones from the Minister had.

“Today, as we gather amidst the echoes of the past, let us remember the indomitable spirit that courses through our veins. Let the memory of this fateful event serve as a rallying cry, reminding us that in the face of darkness, we are capable of conjuring the most radiant light. Together, let us forge a future where peace reigns supreme and where the acts of the malevolent few are drowned out by the resounding chorus of unity, justice, and unwavering resolve.

May the spirits of the fallen find solace in our determination. May their memory guide our every step. And may we, the guardians of the sacred tapestry of our people, prevail in our unwavering pursuit of a world where no act of darkness can ever tarnish the brilliance of our collective spirit.”

Lords Colvin and Edevane, in their positions as Chief Warlock and Head of the DMLE respectively, had both continued to keep me updated. Yet when I’d asked them gently as to why Minister Leech wasn’t responding to my inquiries, or at least in anything beyond a typically curt and bland response of the matter still being investigated, the pair hadn’t responded.

“I pledge to you, my magical brethren, that justice will be served, for we are the embodiment of a nation undeterred, unyielding, and unconquerable.”

Along with everyone else, I clapped as the Minister finished his speech, which while sounding more like a campaign address than one focusing on the events that happened here a year ago, was impressive. However, given that he’d gone silent on my questioning of the status of the investigation, I had little faith he would carry through on his promise. A flaw that seemed to run through many political figures, regardless of when or where they came from, what their ideology was, or what their power base wanted.

I’d listened for decades to similar meandering drivel in my former life as the world slowly broke around us. Promises for leaders from across the political spectrum of help for those affected by disasters, displaced by wars, and threatened by the scarcity of critical resources almost always meant nothing. The majority were too interested in their personal issues, their self-worth and wealth, to the point that by the time I’d been merged into this world.

“What a crock of shite.”

I turned to my right, just catching the whispered words from Callum MacGregor, Heir to Clan MacGregor. This was the first time I’d seen the boy since I was confirmed as Chief MacLeod by the Wizengamot. I’d discovered from Bellatrix and other cousins who were at Hogwarts that the boy was in Ravenclaw. From what I’d heard, he’d always been a pompous arse but had become almost insufferable since becoming Heir MacGregor. Something that the muttered comment, which may well have been caught on camera by the reporters present, proved.

The other side of him, Iona McKenzie gave him a side-eye glare. When she saw me also looking at Callum, I rolled my eyes, drawing a hint of a smile from her. From what I’d heard, Iona was in Gryffindor, however, she was supposedly close to Kenneth Lambert, my cousin through Aunt Katrina, who was in Slytherin. I’d not spend much time with Kenneth, or any of my Hogwarts-attending cousins, however once this memorial, and the accompanying gala, was over, I’d get the chance to know them better.

All my first cousins, whether they had the MacLeod name or not, would be spending a week with me at Dunscaith Castle. Kenneth’s older brother Fergus, along with Ciaran O’Callaghan were the heirs to their houses, so this would give me the chance to meet them. According to what Arcturus had told me, it would also allow me, if things went well to forge a bond of friendship with them and the rest of my cousins. Though given that Fergus and Ciaran would be starting Fourth Year at Hogwarts after the summer, and thus were around eight years older than me, I wasn’t sure how easy that was going to be.

However, even if the week was spent trying and failing to get to know them and the rest of my cousins, there was no way it would be any worse than this memorial service.

While the idea of it was valid, and I was glad to be here to remember my family, Minister Leech had, thanks to that speech, made the entire event about himself. Amusingly, Arcturus had helped Leech become Minister three years ago, however, it seemed he regretted the decision and, from what I understood, was shifting his considerable support to a challenger. While the election wasn’t due until the end of this year, Leech was in campaign mode, and since he was doing so at the memorial for my family, I’d give what little support I was allowed to display to another figure.

Minister Leech turned and approached Chief Finlay MacLean, one of only two Chiefs to survive the Massacre. Since he’d lost a leg, along with his wife and three of his five children, I didn’t suspect him to be behind the attack. Indeed, with every clan suffering badly during the Massacre I didn’t feel any of the Chiefs or Heirs who survived the Massacre were involved in arranging it.

The same belief didn’t extend to the new Chiefs of Clans Cameron, Campbell, and MacKay. All three had been a brother of the former Chief of their Clan. With the former chief, along with everyone else in the line of inheritance before them, the New Chiefs were logical suspects. However, since they all had – according to the DMLE – valid reasons for not being at the SSM, and had been sworn in as Chiefs since then, it was hard to pursue them. Any sitting Lord or Chief had inbuilt protections that prevented the Wizengamot and Ministry from delving too deeply into anything they classified as Family/Clan business.

Theoretically, the Wizengamot could overrule that protection, and suspend the House from the government, but it required over three-quarters of all possible votes to do so. Additionally, Arcturus, Ewan MacAulay, and Donald MacAskill had explained that few Lords were willing to support such a measure as it might one day be turned against their House or Clan. All of which meant that the most viable candidates or at least those with the most motive to arrange the Massacre, were now protected by the very laws meant to bring them, potentially, to justice.

“Chief MacLeod,” Minister Leech said as he moved on from Seumas MacDonald and shook my hand, having to lean down significantly to do so.

I nodded back at him, giving him as little approval as I could. While I wasn’t the only new Chief to come out of the Massacre, due to my age, I seemed to attract more attention from the press. Or at least I had ever since the Winter Solstice Ball of 1965. While I gave no voice to the gossip spewed on the pages of the Daily Prophet, The Northern News, or the handful of other publications in the Isle, they seemed content to bring my name up whenever the Massacre was mentioned.

The Minister released my hand and moved to Callum MacGregor. The Heir to Clan MacGregor seemed to swell with pride at having the Minister’s attention, and I had to bite the inside of my lip to avoid making a face. I had no idea if Callum was a skilled wizard, but it was clear he was an arse and not someone I wanted to interact with if I could at all avoid it.

There was an urge to glance at my wrist or pull a phone from my pocket to check the time, but I was able to suppress it. While I’d generally adapted to my new world, there were moments where the thoughts from the mind that had lived before the merging, in a magic-free world, slipped to the forefront. Almost as if forgetting that I wasn’t that person anymore. Just as I wasn’t the Dòmhnall MacLeod who’d been woken a year ago to find his father dead, and then watched his brother and mother die protecting him.

“Shouldn’t be much longer,” I glanced at Seumas as he whispered to me. “The Minister’s only going to keep this up while the cameras are on us.”

I gave Seumas the barest of nods, thanking him for the advice. Traditionally, our Clans had been rivals, but the feud between us had been forced to end about a century before the Statute came into effect. In recent centuries, while there was often a dislike between the various Chiefs, our clans generally worked together with my grandfather having been a member of Chief Donald MacDonald’s honour guard at his wedding to my grandfather’s cousin.

I’d only spoken a few times with Seumas, but we kept in touch and it had been him to inform me that in August there would be a Gathering. That was when the leaders of the Clans, be they from the Highlands and Islands, or the Lowlands, came together to discuss matters relating to Scotland. From what he’d told me of the Gathering last year, little was done, but given tempers were still running hot after the Massacre, that was understandable. I was curious if I would be able to have any sway in the Gathering, as not only was i the youngest Chief present, but I’d yet to start Hogwarts, to say nothing of passing my OWLs which seemed to be a marker for what someone could and couldn’t do in the Magical World.

“Thank Merlin,” I whispered back, drawing a smirk from Seumas. I wanted to comment on the Minister’s need for attention but decided not to. The cameras were still watching us, and I didn’t want my face to end up beside Callum MacGregor’s for committing a faux pas. The less people thought of me beside that prick, the better and I was glad that by the time I reached Hogwarts, he’d be gone.

No, if only this farce of a ceremony ended, and the gala banquet afterwards could end, then I could also go. Spending time around the Minister, and the cadre of wizards and witches that served him, made me miss time around those my age.

Well, perhaps not Sirius, but I had a few more years to smooth his rougher edges. Or at least direct his need to irritating habits toward those I didn’t like.

… …

----------------------------------------

… …

I looked out at the sea, marvelling at magic as I followed my cousins down to the beach near Dunscaith Castle. “Magic fucking rocks,” I muttered as I watched the waves gently lap up against the clean, golden sand. The sky above us was clear, something not faked by magic as it was one of those rare days of clear, blue skies with only a gentle wind in the Hebrides.

Yet, while it was a cool fifteen degrees on Skye, thanks to magic the beach was set at a refreshing twenty-two inside the wards of Dunscaith Castle. I could change that, but I felt the current temperature was ideal, particularly since most of those with me were, like me, children. I didn’t know how, or even if, things like skin cancer were an issue for magicals, but I suspected it wasn’t. I hadn’t delved too deeply into books in the library about wizarding afflictions, but I’d yet to come across any disease that carried over from the muggle world.

Already my cousins were setting out their plans for the beach. Aunts Fiona and Moire, along with Fiona’s youngest Gabriel, had already settled onto several large blankets with the ladies resting in elegantly made white deck chairs, a large parasol granting them shade. From what I understood the chairs and parasol were all enchanted to allow the user to alter various factors to make them, for example, softer or larger.

The rest of my cousins had gathered in gender groups. The girls were together under another, much larger parasol, discussing animatedly something that I suspected I’d not want to know anything about. Erin Montague was the oldest, and I suspected Talulla MacLeod and Aisling O’Callaghan were peppering her with questions about what to expect at Hogwarts. However, given the way the girls seemed to giggle incessantly about everything, I suspected they were talking about something else, and whatever it was, I didn’t want to know about it.

As I turned back to the boys, I saw Nairn Montague speaking. He was also due to start Hogwarts this year, and he might have been asking the older boys about what to expect. From the smirks worn by the Lambert and O’Callaghan boys, they were planning to prank him somehow about what to expect.

What stood out though was that, at least when with extended family, there was no hint of house rivalries. When I’d learnt that Fergus was in Gryffindor, while his brother Kenneth and cousin Odhran were in Slytherin, I was worried about it. However, there’d been no issue between them, something likely helped that their brothers were together in Ravenclaw. Perhaps that meant there was less friction between the houses as in the canon timeline, or perhaps the issues hadn’t yet raised their heads because, as far as I knew, Voldemort hadn’t yet started moving openly.

Thinking of Voldemort, my mind returned to thoughts of how he might be, in some small way, responsible for the Massacre last year. I didn’t have any proof, but from what I’d learnt, the wards deployed for the Summer Solstice were put in place by all Clan Chiefs. That meant taking them down, in a way that wouldn’t alert anyone, took skill and power on a level few possessed. Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald most certainly would. Grindelwald, if events here had followed canon, was locked away in Nurmengard while Dumbledore – for all my ancestors seemed to dislike him, which given my grandparents fought for Grindelwald, made sense – was busy at Hogwarts. That left, from my limited knowledge, one person who could, potentially be responsible for the attack.

Now, there was every chance that I was entirely misguided about that, and the attack had been the work of disgruntled members of the Clans, and perhaps some of the Sept Clans. However, without any proof, I couldn’t make a definite decision.

Something brushed against my legs and I looked down to see a small wooden cat walking over my feet. Picking it up, I saw Tegan walking toward me, a hand outstretched for her toy. Handing it back to my younger cousin, and one of the few here to bear the name MacLeod, I turned back to once more look at the groups gathered on the beach.

I’d spent time with each of the boys at, or soon to be going to Hogwarts, with a focus on Fergus, Ciaran, and Nairn as they were the heir to their family. However, it was hard to bond with the older boys, as in some cases they were almost double my age. That meant, even though I was the senior family member, and only Chief, present, I often took a backseat to Fergus and Ciaran regarding what to do. To help with controlling the others, I had to turn to my aunts, who rotated which ones were present due to family or work commitments. Aunt Katrina, for example, wasn’t here as she was working at the DMLE, though her youngest Flora – who only Gabriel Montague was younger than - was here.

Flora was spending time with Gabriel, Tegan, and Aunts Fiona and Moire under their parasol, the adults having transfigured various stones into toy animals for the youngest children to play with. The cat, having decided it didn’t want to spend time with the others and instead moved toward me for attention, though as Tegan came running over, chasing the cat, I picked up the animated toy and handed it back to her.

After a smile of thanks, Tegan turned and raced back to the other young children, leaving me again alone. Thanks to the Massacre, I had few cousins left, and while I treasured all of them, and planned to slowly develop friendships with all of them, I was oddly alone. The only ones close to me in age were four of my aunts’ daughters, while the boys were generally older. Only Gabriel was younger, and he was younger than even Regulus Black.

Still, while that was unfortunate, as I could’ve worked on having a trustworthy friend for when I entered Hogwarts, I was glad my cousins and aunts were here this week. Yes, it meant no lessons as having them would either annoy my cousins that I was studying instead of playing, or they’d bother their parents or guardians to hire them tutors as well.

Amusingly, the only time I’d been able to study was when speaking with Kenneth. He’d been having trouble understanding some of his First-year charms. Since I’d already mastered them, and knew more than he’d get from his teachers of textbooks – the benefits of private, one-on-one tutoring – I’d helped him with the homework.

Seeing Fergus and Ciaran pull their wands, though thankfully not in anger, I moved closer. Perhaps they might reveal a spell from their year that I could learn earlier. While I’d mastered most of the First-year curriculum already, Arcturus, Aunt Katrina, and my tutors were insistent that I not attempt anything beyond that until at least after the summer. Which meant that while I could read the various Second-year textbooks my older siblings had left, I couldn’t check if I was casting them properly. Or, when I failed to get a spell to incantation to work, seek guidance to fix my issue.

However, that was an issue to deal with after the summer. For today, and the rest of the week, I could enjoy my time with family. And perhaps, make some sort of inroad toward friendship with my siblings.

… …

----------------------------------------

… …