"And that's why we all looked at you. Unbelievable! Half the school and the entire faculty are trying to solve the mystery of the chamber and you're ahead of everyone. Why don't you say anything about it?"
The Potter scion hesitated for a second before answering, "Yeah, I figured out who is opening the chamber and what the monster is. The problem is that it's a very complicated situation and the magic involved is some pretty messed up stuff that I have no business knowing about. Seriously, this is the kind of magic that gets you hunted down for just knowing about it and I don't want to get to a trial where I'll have to convince people not to kill me for my knowledge. Look, the reason I'm not involving anyone else is because whoever is doing this is messed up in the head and the monster is very dangerous. Honestly, killing students is easier to do than petrifying them. It's actively holding back and breaking the rules in our little game could have a lot of consequences."
"Please, Harry, we're your friends," Daphne pleaded while holding his arm.
"Are you sure about this?" Harry looked at them, "I have been keeping you separated from this part of my life for a reason. You'll see things that you would consider to be impossible. You will see the world differently, and even then, I can't tell you everything, but I will assure you that the way you see the world will be over. So, I'm giving you a choice."
Harry opened a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and took out six beans. Half of them being red, and the other half being blue. He handed over a bean of each colour to his friends, leaving them each a red bean and a blue bean, and grinned. Harry always wanted to say this, "And there will be no going back from this choice, which is why I will leave you as much time as you want before you give me your answer, and I won't take one before the winter holidays are over. When you make your decision, I want you to hand me one of those beans. If you choose the blue bean, and I will take it on the fact that you wish to relish in your ignorance. There's no shame in not wanting to involve yourselves in something dangerous. But if you take the red bean, I'll show you a glimpse of how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember that this is your choice. Make sure you don't regret it."
Not letting them say anything, Harry got up, took out his trunk and left the compartment. They had arrived in London without them noticing, that's how distracted they all were. Still, Harry got out of the train and walked towards the familiar melody of the Black Patriarch, choosing not to think too much about the choice he had given his friends. He honestly didn't know if he wanted them to accept his offer, or if he wanted them to reject it.
20 December 1992, Hogwarts
The home of Arcturus Black was oddly cosy for the Patriarch of such a fearsome family. To be perfectly honest, Harry expected a dark mansion filled with dangerous creatures and hidden traps that cursed whoever was inside, driving them slowly to insanity. Instead, was a tastefully decorated manor with three floors and three wings.
When the Black Patriarch took Harry there using a Portkey, the entire structure was hidden under the snow that was falling. Of course, it took a couple of minutes for him to recover the nausea coming from using Portkey. Why did all magical travel have to be this uncomfortable? At least the floo wasn't that bad.
Anyway, from the outside, the manor was beautiful. There were stone sculptures, fountains and decorations everywhere, some of them shining in ethereal light to celebrate the bank holidays at the end of the year.
The inside was just as tasteful as the outside. The entrance hall was spectacular; the walls had magical paintings on them, a blue and comfortable carpet covered the floor, and the chandelier was golden and diffusing a brilliant magical light. The atmosphere was warm, and welcoming, with the wealth and the decorations one expected of a Victorian-era noble residence.
They could have probably arrived inside the manor, but Arcturus obviously wanted to show off for some reason, but they didn't really talk to each other. The only thing the old man said was that Harry was welcome to browse the library, showed him to his room, and stated that the young Slytherin was assigned his own personal house elf for the duration of his stay. It was a nice young elf called Tilly, who seemed very enthusiastic at the idea of taking care of Harry.
Anyway, the moment he was shown to his room, which was located on the upper floor of Black Manor, Harry couldn't help but be awestruck by its elegance and charm. The corridor leading to it was lined with ancient tapestries that depicted the proud history of the Black family, and soft torches adorned the walls, casting a warm and soothing glow.
The room itself wasn't some expression of wealth, the person having designed it had obviously preferred comfort over decorations. It was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that allowed the daylight to flood in during the day, offering glimpses of the snow outside. In the centre of the room stood an exquisite four-poster bed, its frame made of dark, polished wood adorned with delicate engravings. The soft, emerald-green bedding was embellished with silver trim, making it look regal yet inviting. A matching, plush armchair sat in the corner, inviting him to relax and unwind with a book from the extensive library downstairs. Outside of a mahogany desk, a few empty bookshelves, and an empty closet, the room was somewhat empty.
The bed was really comfortable, so much so, that Harry had fallen asleep the moment he lay down on it, mostly because he was tired from his journey on the Express. When the Potter scion had woken up the next day, he began his morning routine and went down the stairs to have his breakfast.
Arcturus Black was waiting for him, with a plate of perfectly cooked eggs and sausages in front of him, "I suppose you had a good night?"
"Yes, the bed was very comfortable," Harry replied.
"Oh, I know. Melania, my wife, designed this whole place, down to every enchantment. She refused to stay in the Black townhouse, calling it an infested creepy place whose goal was to intimidate visitors than to be comfortable enough to live in. I loved that woman, but she was very blunt like that. And by the powers, that woman had a tongue on her that would make a grown man blush, and she wasn't afraid to let her opinions known."
The melancholic tone by the end of his sentence made Harry uncomfortable. He obviously missed his wife, whom he alluded previously to have died before the Potter scion was even born. Instead, he just said, "Well, at least she had good taste."
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