Chapter 24

"What the Hell was that?!" Death exclaimed while throwing popcorn into the viewing pool.

"Are you actually cringing over an article?" Fate interjected. "Also don't throw food in the viewing pool. Mother just had that cleaned."

"Not the article! That was bloody hilarious," Death chortled before pointing to Snape and Harry. "What's all this drama you created between them, sis?"

"Did you expect them to just go at it like rabbits?" Fate huffed while placing her hands on her hips. "Oh Merlin, you did, didn't you?! Love doesn't come willy-nilly," she added while flicking Death in the head.

"But my Master hasn't gotten laid in over 70 years! That is counting his imprisonment by the way!" Death grumbled.

"You are one smut-obsessed skeleton," Fate deadpanned.

"Hey now!"

"Either way, their fates are in my hands." She stated. "Mother has decreed it so,"

"Well, I'm still your favorite brother, right?" Death changed his tone upon hearing that but Fate merely rolled her eyes and walked away. "RIGHT?!?!"

Meanwhile, back on the mortal plane, Harry was reading Skeeter's article aloud. '.....has come to attention that the recent Dementor attack on an unsuspecting muggle family is closely related to corruption within the Ministry of Magic at its highest levels.

On 2 August 1995, the unsuspecting Dursley family had been attacked by rogue Dementors. By the time the Aurors and Obliviators mobilized the family had had their souls sucked out. What was once believed to have been an accidental collapse of part of the Azkaban wards now reveals itself as deliberate sabotage and murder, for my dear readers the Dursley family residence was also the residence of our dear Mr. Potter. This was disclosed by a reliable source.

"Who sent the Dementors after Mr. Potter? Why my dear readers, none other than Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge on behalf of our dear Minister Cornelius Fudge. Sources within the Ministry indicate that Ms. Umbridge holds a deep obsession with her boss Minister Fudge and the Minister does not deter her advances. No monetary compensation seems to have been exchanged between them so one can only assume that this was an act of passion on Ms. Umbridge's part to please her object of affection.

But the question you might all be wondering dear readers is 'How does Albus Dumbledore fit into the whole scheme?' The question you all should rather be asking is, 'How did Ms. Umbridge know where Harry Potter lived? The Minister seemed to have been as clueless about the address until it was pointed out so he could not have been the source. Albus Dumbledore however would and his longstanding animosity towards the Minister might stem from his secret love for Ms. Umbridge. Did Undersecretary Umbridge seduce the Headmaster into giving up a student's address? Possibly, or a more realistic scenario... Did Ms. Umbridge blackmail the Headmaster?

This reporter has recently found out from an anonymous, but very reliable, source that embezzlement sits right at the heart of our prestigious educational facility. It has come to light that the Headmaster may have pocketed the budget set out by the Board of Governors for certain classes that, while on the register, have never been made public to the student body. When interviewing several students from all Houses they confessed that they had no idea that they could take classes such as 'Wizarding Law, Basic and Advanced Runic diagrams, and Alchemy as electives. That is only to name a few. What has really been going on between Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, and Dolores Umbridge? How sordid is this affair and how far into the Ministry does this corruption truly lead? But the most pressing matter of all... when was the last time Hogwarts was audited? And where is Harry Potter?

"Dammnnnn, Skeeter strikes again," Harry whistled in awe. "For once I am all for her wicked way with words. Though it's a shame about the Dursleys. I didn't like them per se but Dudley's future daughter was going to be a bright young witch." Harry had a sad expression for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and put the paper down. "I really shouldn't dwell on the 'What ifs' in this timeline. I've already come to terms with my children never being born into this reality. However, I didn't think the butterfly effect would be this far-reaching."

"Snape, I know you wanted to talk about some things yourself but could I have some time to myself for a bit?" Harry requested. "I just..."

"Understandable Mr. Potter. I, myself, don't have a straight answer to your question either," Snape replied. "Perhaps explore the estate a bit. There is some paperwork that I need to peruse as well."

"Right... uhm... yeah, let's do that." Harry nodded. "Maybe we could talk at lunch?"

"Of course Potter,"

"Harry..."

"Hmm...?"

"You should call me Harry. Whether we are in a relationship or not Severus, I think we've been through enough for you to just refer to me by my first name."

"Very well... Harry. I will see you here for lunch," Severus gave a sharp nod before retreating out of the room. Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair and stood up himself. Perhaps some exploring would do him some good.

As Severus had retreated to the Lord's study Harry set out to do some exploring to think and clear his head. He needed to figure out his feelings and what his presence was doing to this reality. Harry ventured towards the West wing, which Tibsby had stated could not be maintained due to limited funds and with only one house elf. The elf had actually been rather sad about it as she explained that the West Wing housed the Hall of Portraits. Past Lords and their families had been enshrined there, but due to the family having no care for the thoughts of paintings they had been mostly ignored.

Harry, becoming a bit of a history buff in his 50s, was fascinated by this and asked Tibsby for the way to the Hall of Portraits. He was curious about what Snape's ancestors looked like and the general history of the family. It was an Ancient and Noble House that had kept to itself even in his future reality. He never learned who became the Lord then though he could measure a guess.

The creaking of the double wooden doors to the Hall emphasized the need for restoration. The Hall itself was dark, with no lamp in sight so Harry cast a lumos which got him an immediate reaction.

"Oye! Shut that off ya brat!" One of the paintings shouted while another hissed "Can't you see we are trying to sleep here?!"

"Sorry, I was just trying to get a good look," Harry apologized and dimmed his Lumos a bit. The paintings were still dissatisfied by his sudden intrusion though with the dimmed light they were less.... Ornery.

"Are you my Heir?" One painting asked with disdain dripping from his voice as he looked Harry up and down judgementally.

"Uhm no..." Harry answered. "Who are you?"

"Selwyn Prince, I am the father of Alexander Prince," The painting then gestured to a frame next to him that had an unmoving painting of a young aristocratic man. "As my son isn't here to annoy me yet then that means that he is still alive, though he should have named an Heir by now. My granddaughter Eileen's painting has already been activated and she only mentioned having one son though you look like no one in the family."

"I'm her son's... partner," Harry stated. "Just looking around really. I'm a very big fan of family histories,"

"Why so hesitant about the partner bit? Is my descendant not good enough for you?" Selwyn asked accusingly.

"What?! No! Of course not!" Harry held up his hands placatingly. "It's just... we still need to figure our relationship out. It's a bit... there are certain circumstances."

"You aren't married, are you? My family wouldn't suffer fools," Selwyn frowned.

"NO!" Harry defended. "Look, I'm just here because I want to know more about this family,"

"Well considering that the Chateau's defenses haven't turned you into a pile of dust I suppose I can trust you," Selwyn muttered.

"Go to the end of this corridor, there you will find the Founder of the family," Selwyn stated. "Whether he will enlighten you or snap at your lack of brains for disturbing him.... Well, that remains to be seen. Even we former Lords don't know our true family origin."

"But why is it such a mystery?" Harry muttered more to himself with a frown. In his reality, nothing really was known or stood out about the family other than that they produced quite a few Duel Masters. Selwyn was acting like there were more secrets to this family and the other paintings were simply staring him down as if daring him to walk to the end of the corridor. So Harry did just that. He could be a stubborn mule. He knew a challenge when he saw one and wasn't ready to back down. His conscience, sounding suspiciously like an exasperated Snape was admonishing him for being so reckless.

When Harry reached the end of the corridor he was met with a pair of blood-red curtains and a hanging rope knotted in a tassel nearby. Harry pulled it to reveal the painting of a regal young man dressed in armor while leaning on his unsheathed sword. Now Harry knew where the Prince family got their looks from. The young man was conventionally attractive with his sharp black eyes and long black hair. Hair that was braided into a ponytail while he held his helm under one arm.

"Hǒu dareſ disturb mīn rest?" The young knight growled while his eyes pierced Harry's causing the other to actually gulp and take a step back. "If Ich waſ not ain paintende thee woulede feel mīn bladæ."

"Now now, no need for violence," Harry exclaimed as he took a step back. His Medieval English was rusty but he could still understand most of the sentence.

"If thee dī nōn-ọ̄ther fear mīn bladæ then perhapſ thee līke fear mīn wanede." the painting said as they produced a very familiar wand.

"You wielded the Pendragon wand?" Harry asked upon recognizing it immediately.

"H'w daræ thee uttē̆r th' namæ Pendragon in mīn presence!" The man in the painting hissed as his eyes hardened. "Hider waſ mīn father'ſ wanede. Intransiciọ̄n haede nōn-ọ̄ther bihofþe dī with sin despicablæ Arthur."

"Okay, okay, I see you are very testy about that last name." Harry said hastily. "But what will I call you?

"I am Mordecai, brother of Melian and son of Mordred," the man announced in perfect English.

"Wait, you can speak Modern English?!" Harry exclaimed, quite shocked.

"Of course, I can speak Modern English as well as thee. Being around my descendants has benefits," Mordecai stated hauntingly.

"Then why did you have me nearly break my brain with Medieval English?!"

"One should get their kicks where thee can," Mordecai declared. "Did thee think I was uneducated? I studied under Sir Ambrosius himself,"

Harry gulped at the mention of Merlin's name. "Look, all I wanted was to know more about this family."

"I can happily tell thee though thy must do something for me first," Mordecai stated.

"What exactly do you want?"

"Freedom," Mordecai stated. "Thy Norman descendants hath imprisoned me in thy frame. Only the touch of this wand can free thy," he pointed towards the one in his hand.

"Okay, that I can do!" Harry said rather happily, catching the painting off guard. "I hope you don't get motion sickness," Harry then said just before casting the Levitating charm.

"Wait.. what... ah! Indọ̄n ich down!" Mordecai reverted to his old manner of speech as he was levitated from his place on the wall and clumsily yanked through the Hall.