HP: Monochrome

"This is just fucked up!"

Harry leaned his head against the window. His short, but highly illuminating conversation with Sirius and Andi had cleared the air, and at the same time, given him quite a number of things to think about.

"Really, I mean, just a month ago, my biggest worry was facing the challenges of the Third Task. Hell, just a few weeks ago, I only had the trial to worry about. You know, maybe know a bit about my family, spend some time with Sirius, Andi… and Fleur. Maybe write another letter to Ron and Hermione and see if they write back something useful…"

Speaking of Ron and Hermione, Harry knew what was really happening. He was getting the silent treatment. Not surprising since this was their best way of expressing disapproval of his actions. The incident with the Midnight duel back in first year, the incident with Crookshanks, and then the Triwizard— all were characterized with the duo emphatically refusing to acknowledge his existence for periods that could last months at a time. Harry could clearly picture their responses when he finally (if ever) met them again.

For all he knew, Hermione was furious with him.

'This is so uncalled for, Harry! Dumbledore must have a reason for doing this, and you behaving like that is immature. For all you know, this could jeopardize all the work the Order is doing!'

Yeah, considering no one thought to include him into these important Order plans, he didn't give two shits about those. It was infuriating being regarded as inconsequential when he was the one to inform them about Voldemort in the first place.

Ron was most likely sulking about Harry choosing to live with Sirius instead of with him at the Burrow, but he was pretty sure the redhead would sooner or later, put his head out of his arse saying, 'That was crazy, mate! Talking down to Dumbledore like that! Totally crazy!'

And then he'd suggest they play a game of chess or Exploding Snap as some kind of ice-breaker, and Harry would be so grateful that he wasn't being isolated that he'd go back without hesitation.

Harry scowled.

Yeah, not going to happen this time.

He glanced at the street outside.

"That feels like something from someone else's life now. This Peverell bloodline, Death, my magic going all crazy, it just… feels like too much is happening to me, all at once."

Harry sighed, mentally counting to five.

As always, it didn't help.

Hedwig, who sat perched on the windowsill all this time, came trotting over. She stood by his hand and stared at him with her beady, all-knowing eyes. After a moment, she made a little scoffing noise, slowly rubbing her head against his sleeves before knocking his wand over with her feet. Once the magical foci rolled into his palm, she swooped back into her favorite position and gave a long-drawn hoot, as if to say — mission accomplished.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at her antics, but his frown soon returned.

"Dumbedore was supposed to train me to fight against Voldemort. Or at least, to hold my ground. But now that I'm not playing nice, he's perfectly willing to hang me out to dry."

Hedwig hooted at him, causing him to frown to deepen.

"He can go suck on his lemon drops, Hed. I am not apologizing."

It didn't matter anyway. Sirius was already teaching him. Between the former Hit-wizard's battle experience, his comprehensive array of spells including charmswork, martial magic and a healthy number of Dark Arts spells, Harry had been gaining a steady and ever-increasing arsenal for himself. Snape's book was helpful too, giving him some very useful tips. He'd still prefer Reducto and Confringo for dealing with opponents but there was something about the lethality of Sectumsempra that made it a necessary addition. And not to forget, there was his newly gained affinity with Ice, and his Dark-Arts loving wand. So what if Professor Dumbledore wasn't willing to step up? It wasn't like the man was the greatest wizard alive or the only person Voldemort ever feared or anything, right?

Harry groaned. At this rate, he'd be mimicking Fudge by the end of the week.

Hedwig made an uncertain, high-pitched noise.

"Oh yeah? How do you think I feel?" he challenged, before suddenly standing up. "You know what? I need a drink. Sirius must have some of that firewhiskey stored in the cellar here. I'll go look for it."

His snowy owl hooted at him balefully.

"Don't give me that look, Hed," Harry wagged his finger. "Sirius let me drink while sharing that tale yesterday, and I need something stronger than butterbeer for all this."

Hedwig made a distressed noise and rose into the air, flapping her wings as she perched onto his shoulder.

"Sure, we can go and see if there's a rat or two in the cellar too. I just—"

WHOOSH!

A brown blur dive-bombed through the open window, narrowly missing Harry's head as it soared across the room, much to Hedwig's angry protests. The mail owl dropped the large envelope it was carrying in its beak at his feet and turned gracefully, the tips of its wings just barely brushing the top of the fridge. Without any prompting, it zoomed back outside again, and soon became a speck in the sky.

"…Well, that just happened."

Hedwig's furious screeches made Harry wonder where the hell his beautiful, pristine, innocent, snowy pet learned to swear like that.

"A letter," he mused. Crouching down to pick it up, he froze mid-step, recognizing the stupidity of his actions. Instead, he whipped out his wand and readied himself to cast one of the few diagnostic spells he'd picked up over the years.

"Revelio!"

The envelope emanated a bluish glow for a few seconds as it floated inches above the ground. Then, as the glow faded, it fell down like a marionette with its strings severed.

Huh. Safe then. Good to know.

Harry nodded. It was the best he could do, for now. Picking it up gingerly between his thumb and forefinger, he slowly counted to five in his head.

When nothing cursed him or tried to eat his face off, he slowly tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents. Inside was a letter with an elaborate seal engraved on top. His eyes drifted towards the identity of the sender, and then widened.

The Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass

Dum Spiro Spero

While I breathe, I hope.

Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

My most heartfelt felicitations upon your becoming the next Lord Potter. My name is Joshua Greengrass, formerly of House Pince. Forgive my presumption, but I believe you may not know that your grandmother Euphemia Potter was the elder sister of Camilla Greengrass, my mother-in-law.

I would like to take this opportunity to formally greet you. My dear daughter Daphne is currently in your year, sorted in Slytherin House, and she recounted that you share a public disdain for her House and its members. That led me to believe you have taken an unfavorable stance against our family, and refused to acknowledge us as your relatives. However, news of your recent ascension, and your recognition as a son of House Greengrass makes me wonder if you were simply unaware of your status all along.

With this in mind, I write this letter, hoping to find you in the best of health. While I understand that you may be occupied by your upcoming trial, I request an audience with you at my family manor, along with any chaperone you see fit to bring along. I would like to discuss a certain maledictus with you, one that was placed upon the Greengrass bloodline. As you are one of the two remaining true Greengrasses left upon this earth, it is only right you are informed about its circumstances.

I have already lost my wife Anastasia to the maledictus, and as unfortunate as it is, I believe both you and Daphne share her curse. It is my desire to meet you and speak face-to-face, all pleasantries aside. I assure you, in the name of the Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass, that your safety during this meeting is guaranteed under Guest rights.

I look forward to meeting you soon.

With regards,

Joshua Greengrass

Regent of the Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass

"A maledictus?" Andi palmed her mouth, staring at Harry with growing trepidation. "That's— that's—"

"A lie," Sirius all but growled. This is a trap. An elaborate scheme, played to divert our attention. I know Joshua Greengrass. He's a shark, Harry. James never liked him, and neither should you."

"Sirius!" Andi snapped, standing right beside him. "Stop being ridiculous and think for a moment. This is a letter from the office of a Lord. Nobody, and certainly not someone like Joshua Greengrass, would joke about it. Plus, all the genealogy mentioned can be verified from established sources." She turned towards Harry. "I imagine he's right about your grandmother being a Greengrass?"

He dumbly nodded. Truth be told, he had already been planning to meet this Daphne next year at Hogwarts and see where their conversation went. But as always, everything went sideways in the worst possible way. He really did have the worst luck.

Harry's jaws creaked as he clenched his teeth tightly together, not wanting to register the hollowness starting to pervade within him. He wanted answers. He wanted facts. He wanted to know his options, and curling into a ball like an infant or lashing out in anger weren't going to help matters any. Especially if—

He glanced at the crumpled letter.

Especially if the author of that letter was as much of a bastard as Sirius painted him out to be.

"What's— what's a maledictus?" he croaked out.

"It's a curse," Andi answered, her voice hauntingly soft. "A most diabolical curse that is cast not upon an individual, but an entire line. Unlike spells, they are cast through thaumaturgical rituals— foul, dark things. They were used in archaic times to destroy entire bloodlines, usually by families that entered into blood-feuds with one another."

Harry stilled at the word 'blood-feud' but said nothing.

"How does it work?" Even Sirius looked to be listening now.

"I'm not an expert, but…" Andi bit her lip. "I can dig up some old cases. I think the Shafiqs ended because of a bloodline curse. Corvinus Gaunt captured some of the youngest generation and cast the curse, before killing them with a sacrificial dagger." She paused. "It killed all the relatives of the victims. The Shafiq line ended overnight."

Youngest… generation…

Harry stared at the floor. A curse applied to children to kill off an entire family? And this was magic? Something this foul, this horrible, this utterly wrong was… magic? The tempest building in his chest suddenly raged as he gathered up fury and pain like immaterial blades. Anger rose to his eyes, and everything around him began to change into grayscale—

"—ARRY!"

He was shaking. Just like before. Had he lost control? Again? He could see the concern and— as much as he wanted to deny it —fear in Sirius's eyes. Deep down, he knew he was the cause. They, both his godfather and Andi, feared him. Whatever it was that was happening to him, it was dangerous. He was dangerous. He—

Harry closed his eyes. Rage, guilt, frustration, and helplessness rose to the brim, but he coldly suppressed all four. Powerful emotions, as the Patronus Charm had once taught him, were an excellent way to turbocharge one's magic. Throwing a destructive spell in a grip of fury would create more devastation than a relaxed mind. The danger, of course, was identifying how much was too much.

Pull yourself together, Potter.

"What does this all mean for me?" he finally asked, after a few calming breaths.

Andi mournfully shrugged. "I couldn't really tell you. Bloodline curses fall under thaumaturgy. Ritualistic magic. They can have a variety of effects depending upon the nature of the curse, the degree of success, the strength of the caster…"

"But the Greengrasses are still alive," Harry pointed out. "So that means the curse didn't work properly. Right?"

"No. It did."

Harry and Andi both turned towards Sirius in surprise.

"Aunty Euphie was in her fifties when she conceived James," he spoke in a hollow voice. "Uncle Fleamont and my grandfather Arcturus were actually contemporaries, fairly close in age. I always thought that Aunty had conception issues of some kind."

"A reasonable inference," Andi briskly replied. "Witches find it more difficult to give birth than muggle women. As long as you don't count Molly Weasley," she muttered under her breath.

Sirius nodded. "Uncle Fleamont always described Aunty as a spitfire, but for as long as I knew her, she was this weak old thing. She wasn't sick, wasn't cursed. Just… frail."

"You think it was the Greengrass maledictus acting out?" Harry asked, his voice low.

"We can't discount the possibility," Andi shot Sirius a glance. "Though you both would need to talk to Joshua Greengrass to be sure. He says his wife passed away from the curse, so he should be able to give you a better perspective than our half-baked guesses."

"I am not taking Harry to a Death Eater's house!"

"That's bullshit and you know it," Andi snapped. "The Greengrass family has maintained neutral dealings with everyone."

"Neutral," Sirius repeated, as if he'd tasted something foul. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"They didn't take sides—"

"Washing your hands of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless means you're siding with the powerful, not being neutral."

That shut her up.

Harry looked towards his godfather. Then he looked towards Andi.

And he came to a conclusion.

"He told me," Harry began, clearing his throat, "in that letter, that I was one of the two last Greengrasses alive. Me and… Daphne. I think I remember her from school. She's friends with Pansy Parkinson, and Parkinson is—"

"An uppity ugly-mug pureblood?" Sirius offered.

Harry bit back laughter. "Kinda."

Andi rolled her eyes.

"But, I mean, we're second cousins. She's kind of like… family, then, isn't she?"

"When it comes to the wizarding world, Harry, everyone is related to everyone else. Second cousins, third cousins, it doesn't really matter," Sirius replied.

"You'd know," Andi muttered, making Harry wonder why she said that.

"If things ended up differently, I might've even grown up with Daphne and her father. But they aren't." Harry swallowed, looking Sirius dead in the eye. "When I saw the Greengrass name back during the inheritance test, I finally thought I found family, aside from you that is. Magical ones too, not like my aunt and uncle. I thought maybe we could talk. And I wondered… I wondered why they didn't approach me all these years, and this letter tells me one possible story."

"Harry," Sirius begged, "this man may as well be a Death Eater."

"And it is his daughter that's under a bloodline curse, not him."

"Maybe that's what he wants you to think!" Sirius shot back. "Harry, this man is not innocent. Look at the way he's written this down. It's obvious he knows what he's doing. He knows that once you get your head into something, you don't come off it."

"Sirius—"

"No listen to me, pup," His godfather went on. "This man is good at reading people. He knows that helping people is important to you. Not because this damsel-in-distress would be all appreciative and jump into bed with you, but because it's the right thing to do. You've done this over and over— Hermione with the troll, the Weasley girl in the Chamber and then finally with me. Hell, you even saved Delacour's sister and later herself last year. It's like helping people in danger hits some kind of good-versus-evil hot button in your head and this man is taking advantage of that."

Harry growled. "Look, we need information. Information about the curse. My grandmother was a Greengrass, so obviously there's got to be something about it, right? And that's something Greengrass can give us. I… I think I'd like to meet this man face-to-face. At least once, to set the record straight."

Sirius's face looked like it was carved out of stone. "I still say this is a bad idea."

"Why?"

"Because—" Sirius began, looking very much like the canine he morphed into at will. "Because this isn't the first time the Greengrass name has come up since your ascension, Harry. Ripclaw told me about it. Lucius Malfoy signed a betrothal contract, marrying his offspring Draco to the eldest Greengrass, in exchange for ten years of unrestricted access to the Black Library. Joshua Greengrass paid Malfoy five hundred thousand galleons as commission. I know this is because it was the first of many such deals that Lucius did as Regent, which I scrapped after becoming Lord Black. Believe me Harry, that man's head's full of cats!"

"Sirius?" Andi murmured, "I think you should at least visit this man once."

Sirius whirled at her. "Are you out of your mind, Andi? That man is—"

"Desperate," Andi shot back. "House Greengrass is a Noble family, and their wealth is way higher than even House Black. They lead the Neutrals. Even Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore steer clear of them. And that man paid Malfoy five hundred thousand to marry his girl, his heir, to Narcissa's spawn? Why?"

"He sold off his girl to Malfoy, and that paints him as scum in my book. Bollocks to why!"

"And there speaks the Gryffindor!" Andi snapped. "He literally paid Malfoy to marry his girl into a family of, at best, equal standing to itself. Who does that? And why? For access to the Black Library? Clearly there's more at work than we know."

"Yes, the man's a scumbag that now wants to get his claws into Harry."

"And you're not saying that because you had a crush on Anastasia before Joshua Pince proposed and she accepted?"

"Erm… what?"

"Your father's cousin," Andi replied sweetly. "She was two years his senior. Sirius was infatuated with her, before Marlene came into his radar!"

"... That has nothing to do with this!" Sirius barked, but the slight flush on his face told a different story.

Andi smirked. "Come on, Sirius, visit the guy. You yourself said Euphiemia Greengrass suffered from the curse. Maybe there's some truth in it?"

"Sirius?" Harry implored.

"Oh for pity's sake," Sirius grunted. "Fine. Let's visit this bloody Greengrass estate and be done with it!"