The Contract

Chapter 3

Rabastan stared blankly at the boy, the chocolate slowly easing the muddled waters his mind was still swimming in. He knew James Potter, he had attended school with the pathetic bully through all seven years. He also knew what Charles Potter - James' father - looked like as well, he'd gone through his fathers photos often enough as a young boy, anything with a picture of Hogwarts in it, he wanted to see. Things between Gryffindor and Slytherin hadn't been as problematic. Sure, they had a healthy rivalry for the Quidditch games but nothing like what it was like in his time at school. And he was inclined to believe his father who never exaggerates. Sure, they hadn't been best friends, but Dorea and Corvus had been close, and obvious Charles had entered that picture. James had looked like Charles double. Harry Potter did not, you could see the Black resemblance peaking out more than the Potter one. The only thing remotely gotten from the Potter family was his hair, it was quite frankly a messy birds nest. Those green eyes, they were familiar, the Mudblood girl, Evans, James had married her. The eyes were familiar but Rabastan could have sworn they weren't exactly right, that he had seen replicas of those eyes somewhere else. Damn his muddled memories and mind, he should know the answer to this, he knew he should which irritated him. An emotion easier to feel than anything remotely positive here on this island.

Corvus squeezed his sons hand in silent warning, no doubt it would be very easy to rouse his sons anger in here. Normally he'd be composed and articulate in mixed company. Unfortunately, Azkaban had stripped that from his sons, along with nearly everything else. Including his youthful looks, but he was in this thirties now, sentenced to this dreadful place when he was only twenty-one years old. He'd tried to get a trial, a trial for his sons, in order to get a fair hearing, they'd been sentenced together on a whole, a group. Between Bellatrix's proud proclamation of their lord coming to helping them and Barty's insane ramblings and begging for help, his sons had been so utterly overlooked during the trial. They'd just assumed that his sons were just as insane as the other two. He had failed obviously, just as he failed in being able to see his sons more than just once a year. They'd been sentenced to solitary cells, solitary confinement due to their 'heinousness of their crimes' and that meant he was lucky to see them at all. Neville Longbottom wouldn't get to be raised by his parents so why should they get to see family in turn? It was very vindictive, the Ministry had been very harsh on them due to the popularity of the damn Aurors.

"Are you not aware of your fame? Mr. Potter?" Corvus questioned the young boy, who looked very subdued but determined. He was what? Eleven years old now, presumably just about to enter Hogwarts. The goblins remained at the door, faces impassive, clearly leaving the boy to do this himself. He wasn't floundering but it was glaringly obvious he hadn't had a strict pureblood upbringing.

Harry's lips twisted into a grimace, "Learned that a few days ago, but fame is a fickle thing, they like you until they don't." just reading all the newspapers of the celebrities told him that much. Sure, there were those who were hardcore fans and defended them but really, nothing was worth being judged constantly. All they saw was your downfalls, never your achievements, nothing was ever enough really.

"That is...a very mature outlook to have," Corvus replied, surprised and humbled by the eleven year olds words. Then again, if Harry had been abused the way he was implying, then quite frankly you had to grow up before your time. Seeing as he had given over packages for his son, knowing what he had done, he decided to give him a way out of it, just this once. "The Ministry of magic would be more than willing to aid you in your endeavour to get out of your abusive situation. Given who you are, there will be many families who would love to take you in. You hold a very rare power in your hands, you could influence them any way you please. Quite frankly one day, you might be as known as Merlin himself."