HP: Monochrome

The Greengrass Estate was deep in the countryside, at least an hour away from the nearest sign of human civilization. A forest of enormous oak, ash, and birch trees surrounded it. Given how big the whole place was, Harry was pretty sure it could supply all the wood Ollivander needed for his wand-making business.

He and Sirius apparated right outside the Estate's outer gate and found, much to his surprise, half a dozen men, each of them the size of Hagrid.

One guard approached them carefully with his spine rigid, shoulders squared, and ready to pull the trigger at the slightest hint of hostility. "Can I help you, sirs?" he asked in a no-nonsense tone, not even bothering to give them a friendly smile. Clearly these people weren't kidding around.

Sirius had made Joshua Greengrass to sound like a Death Eater who used the idea of neutrality to save his own hide. But would a Death Eater hire half-giants as security?

Sirius didn't seem intimidated in the slightest. "I believe we are expected."

"Please state your names."

"Sirius Black and Harry Potter."

That seemed to do the trick. "Please wait," the man offered, while another guard placed in his hands what seemed like a bowl of… water?

"Dip a finger into the bowl."

Sirius looked affronted. "This is—"

"Mr. Black," the guard cut him off, "we are merely following protocols. The liquid in the bowl is a custom-made variant of the Thief's Downfall used in Gringotts. We just need to confirm you are who you say you are."

Harry dipped a finger into the bowl, followed by Sirius. As he felt a flicker of magic wash over him, the guard's expressions shifted from controlled tension to halfway relaxed.

Gently taking the bowl away, the guards stepped aside and pressed a button somewhere, and Harry felt a large number of things suddenly shift around him.

"So many lethal wards," Sirius snorted as they stepped through the entrance into a wide path that led to the mansion in the centre of the estate. "Greengrass must be rather paranoid if he makes his guests go through all of this."

Personally, Harry thought that was the pot calling the kettle black. Sure, Grimmauld Place didn't exactly have a sprawling estate around it, but it had a homicidal, House-possessed elf for protection, not to mention the interspersed wards layered around the mansion like a protective web.

"Are we going to walk all the way?" Harry asked, realising they had just stepped into anti-apparition and anti-portkey warded territory.

"Of course not," the guard replied. "It's only a few steps from here."

Harry didn't know how or what happened, but the minute he took a step into the path, he crossed through an entire grove of oak and birch, like someone had dragged by half a mile in that single kept feeling the subtle webs of magic drawn all around the place. Whatever it was his bloodline magic did, it had certainly expanded his ability to sense magic around him.

Probably to help him destroy them, he thought with a scowl.

After four more steps, they finally made it to the central building— Cinnamon Grove. It was a brooding chateau, built in a French-style with a blend of gothic and modern-minimalist architecture. The car came to a halt right at the front, where a female house-elf stood, clad in a neat linen toga, awaiting their arrival.

"Mr. Harry Potter and his associate, be welcome to Cinnamon Grove," the elf proclaimed with a gracious bow. "I am called Fiana. Fiana is to be at your service during your stay."

"I see," Sirius declared in a haughty tone. Harry wondered if they gave all pureblood children lessons on speaking like pompous arses.

"Please, follow me." The elf snapped her fingers and walked forward, allowing the large oak door to open with a soft gong. Harry and Sirius quickly followed suit.

"Nervous?" Sirius whispered.

"Just a little," Harry admitted.

"Heh, me too," his godfather replied. "Just remember what I taught you."

"Hit hard and hit fast?"

"Not that."

"Contraceptives are always handy?"

Sirius snorted. "Useful, but not that either."

"Never let them see you sweat?"

His godfather grinned. "Close enough." With that, he squared his shoulders and walked ahead.

Harry took a deep breath, before following him.

The Greengrass Chateau was a complete inversion of the Black Townhouse.

For one, the mansion had lots and lots and lots of open spaces. Between the broad windows and spacious rooms, the house had an abundance of airflow. It was a colossal citadel of grey stone perched on the edge of a sheer cliff that plunged thousands of feet down into a lush tapestry of wooded foothills. There were no rugs, no carpets, no floor decorations— it was as if the family abhorred walking on marble or stone, a point only further proven by how the floor was a lawn instead. The house-elf insisted he leave his boots at the door, allowing his feet to feel the fresh blades of nature beneath it.

Green grass indeed.

"Ah. Harry Potter."

Harry turned to face the owner of the voice. The man appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties, with reddish brown hair and light strands of white scattered around his scalp, and sharp blue reminding him of a pristine lake he once visited. He was dressed in tasteful robes of fine quality, in a style close to muggle formal wear.

"And Sirius Black as well, in the flesh." He spread his hands gallantly. "Be welcome in my humble abode."

Humble, Harry mentally repeated.

"Greengrass," Sirius bit out, a strange edge to his voice.

"Thank you for inviting us into your home," Harry quickly cut in, bowing as he desperately tried to recall what little etiquette Sirius had drilled into him. "It's very… unique."

Joshua Greengrass smiled. "It has always been the Greengrass motto to be one with nature. Dum Spiro Spero. So long as we draw breath, we hope." The man's personality seemed to fill the entire room. "I look forward to discussing the Greengrass legacy with you in the foreseeable future."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he just squared his shoulders and allowed himself a shaky smile.

The Greengrass patriarch's eyes widened. "Dear me! I seem to have forgotten my manners. Please, have a seat. Kenny!" he called out. "Tea and refreshments please."

A house-elf dressed similarly to the first one appeared in the room, followed by a silver kettle, glass cups, sugar, and a rack of confections making themselves available on the coffee table. The elf— Kenny —gave a swift bow to everyone before popping away.

Joshua gestured towards the kettle of warm tea and snacks. "Please, help yourselves."

Harry cautiously took a seat, his mind racing as he considered everything he knew about the man in front of him. Sirius had described Joshua Greengrass as a formal bastard— someone who'd try to murder you in your sleep, but would offer you cake and biscuits if you dropped in the next Sunday. The man was a stickler for protocols and believed heavily in maintaining appearances. Of course, listening to Sirius was one thing, and experiencing it firsthand was another entirely.

"I imagine you will want your godfather to lead the talks, Lord Potter?" Joshua asked.

And there it was. The first obstacle. Would he act as the Potter Lord, or be led by his godfather, who was also the Lord of a House, albeit a different one?

Luckily, it was something he and Sirius had already discussed.

"You asked for me," Harry firmly replied. "My godfather is here because I value his advice."

"And as Lord Black," Sirius added, "I'd rather get this entire facade done with as quickly as possible."

Joshua's smile widened. "I see. Well, that makes things easier." He relaxed into the couch. "Mr. Potter— do you mind if I call you Harry? I have a daughter your age, after all. Call me Joshua. I see no need to stand on ceremony."

"Sure," Harry easily agreed, glancing back outside at the miles of grassy lawn. "I was wondering… The security outside."

"Yes?"

"Are they…"

"Half-breeds," Joshua replied affably. "Well, half-trolls and half-giants, if we're being specific."

"What do they do?"

"Trolls have very high regenerative powers. Giants have incredibly high magical resistance. Makes for good security, you see. As for what they do, they're my troubleshooters."

Harry blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"It means where there is trouble, they shoot at it."

"…"

"But I thought—"

"That as a well-known supremacist, I abhor other species by default? "While some harbour such beliefs, I advise you not to paint an entire group of people with the same brush so callously, Harry.""

"Err…"

"Then you should know, Harry Potter, that Greengrass Exports and Imports hires over two thousand muggleborn. In fact, House Greengrass hires a majority of Hogwarts students right after their NEWTs."

Harry looked at Sirius, who appeared strained.

"I see," Joshua went on. "Perhaps I've been painted as a pureblood bigot."

"Are you telling me you're not?" Sirius challenged.

"Absolutely. I'm a magical supremacist, a follower of Grindelwald's ideology. It is not the same as being a pureblood bigot."

"Grindelwald was a dark lord," Harry shot back.

"Voldemort was a Dark Lord. Grindelwald was a visionary," Joshua retorted. "A man ahead of his time. See Harry Potter, I am a businessman, one with a fair share of exposure with the muggle community. Or no-maj, if you prefer that. I don't see the muggles as lesser, but Other. Not worthless, but of other value. Not disposable, but of a different disposition. But magic…." he trailed, "Magic blooms in rare souls. It is granted to those destined for higher things. Our forefathers understood that, which was why muggles worshipped them as the Old Gods before the Dark Ages came along."

He met Harry's eyes. "Do you not agree, Harry Potter? You who suffered ten long years under those Can't-Spells' mercy?"

Harry wanted to say no. To look the man in the eyes and call him a Liar. But images of Vernon Dursley rose in his mind.

'Freak!'

'Poké him with your smelting stick, Dudley!'

'The world's better off them in my opinion…'

'If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the—'

"Enough!" said Sirius. "We didn't get here to discuss Grindelwald's ideology. Your letter suggested a maledictus, so let's get to the brass tacks!"

Sirius' words shook him out of his inner turmoil. He watched as every inch of joviality was ripped off from Joshua's face. A shadow fell over his countenance as he audibly exhaled. "The letter, yes. I'm not quite certain how familiar you are with James Potter's ancestry, but he and my wife Anastasia were first cousins."

"Through my grandmother, I know," Harry said. Sirius had told him how James and Anastasia were first-cousins. "I came to know about my lineage very recently, thanks to Sirius. Your letter gave away the rest."

"I see," Joshua nodded. "I myself belong to the Pince family and married into the Greengrass name. After Anastasia's demise, I have been acting as the Family Regent, doing my best to protect its future."

"Yes, we're aware of some of your other ventures, Regent Greengrass," Sirius threw back. "Specifically, your deal with Malfoy in regards to House Black."

The Regent grimaced. "I suppose that's true. That said, neither myself nor Lucius foresaw you becoming Lord Black. Both of us imagined it would be his son Draco to be next in line."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises," his godfather snarked.

Harry cast a long glance between Sirius and Joshua. "Uh, can we talk about the maledictus first?"

"The maledictus, yes," the Greengrass patriarch awkwardly coughed. A small part of Harry squealed at seeing his composure broken. "In a sense, that is the crux of this meeting."

"We were hoping you could tell us more about it," Harry said.

"If that is what you wish.." Joshua murmured, "however, I hope you will not mind, if I include my eldest into our discussions. With your permission?"

Harry glanced at Sirius before nodding.

"Kenny!" Joshua called out, "please ask my daughter to join us."

Kenny did not appear. Instead, one of the doors on his left opened, and a girl stepped in. From first sight alone, Harry had to admit, she was pretty. Nowhere as glamorously lovely as the Patil twins, or exotically beautiful like Cho, and certainly not supernaturally stunning like Fleur, but believably pleasant to look at. High cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and sleek, golden tresses that fell on both sides of her face. She walked across the chamber with a grace that Harry could swear came from meticulous practice.

"Potter," she acknowledged with a jerk of her head, before doing the same to Sirius.

"Uh… Greengrass!" Harry acknowledged, feeling incredibly stupid.

She arched an eyebrow with a grace Harry didn't have in his entire body. "You don't know my name, do you?"

"You're Daphne," he declared, with a confidence he most certainly didn't possess.

"Oh?" She arched her eyebrows. "What gave that away?"

"It is the way you say Potter. Though when it comes from a Slytherin blond, it's usually with a free sneer. Should I feel cheated?"

"I don't know," she asked. "Should you?"

"Please," said Joshua with a smile, "allow me to introduce my eldest, Daphne, Heir Apparent of House Greengrass."

"Hello Miss Greengrass," Sirius acknowledged.

"Likewise," she said, and took a seat next to her father. Harry noticed that her hands trembled slightly, before she composed herself.

He turned to Joshua. "You were saying?"

Joshua pressed his lips together firmly and nodded. "This malediction… It goes back to 1906. Ophelia Greengrass, the then-Lady of House Greengrass, had a child out of wedlock with Antonius Belby. It is believed that her husband, Sagittarius Black, found out about this infidelity and reacted poorly."

Sirius grimaced. "Bit of an understatement."

"I suppose it is." Joshua's expression was painfully bitter. "He cast a most diabolical curse upon her, one fueled by his own revulsion and powered by his death. Thus marks the beginning of the curse that the Greengrass bloodline has been suffering from."

Harry cast a quick glance at Daphne, who looked utterly content to just sit there like a mannequin. Except for that tautness right next to her lips. That sort of gave it away.

"Wait a minute," Sirius frowned. "1906? That's—"

"Precisely eighty-nine years ago," Joshua gravely replied. "Two years shy of ninety-one."

"What's so special about ninety-one?" Harry curiously asked.

"My daughter informed me that you did not elect to take Arithmancy as an elective at Hogwarts, and instead chose Divination. An easy OWL perhaps?"

Harry's cheeks tinged red as he glanced at her again.

Daphne didn't react. At all.

"Ninety-one is a significant number in numerology, Harry," his godfather began to explain. "You'll probably study this in your DADA NEWT, but unlike charms or transfigurations that weaken over time, curses strengthen. The longer a curse has been active, the stronger it becomes. That's why Egyptian tombs in particular are so bloody dangerous."

"But that still doesn't explain ninety-one."

"Thirteen is the strongest magical number, followed by seven. Thirteen times seven is—"

"Ninety-one," Harry replied. That certainly was interesting. He'd never heard anything about the magical properties of specific numbers, except they had something to do with Arithmancy. "Upon reaching the ninety-first year since its conception, the curse will likely gain a tremendous boost," Joshua grimly added. "The largest one yet. Something like that may be enough to accomplish the very thing it was created to ensure."

He almost didn't want to ask. "Which is?"

"The complete and utter annihilation of the Greengrass lineage."

The moments that followed were as heavy as they were silent. Neither father nor daughter spoke a word. Except for the slight, ever-constant twitching of her hands.

"I assume Ophelia was an only child?" Sirius finally asked, his tone more subdued.

Joshua shook his head. "She had an older brother. Unfortunately, his tastes were a bit… different, so his father removed him from the line of succession and made Ophelia the Family Heir."

He slowly sipped some tea from his mug.

"Ophelia's child Andrea died at a young nineteen years of age, soon after her marriage to Marcus Bletchley. She gave birth to twin daughters, Camilla and Euphemia, the latter of whom became your grandmother, Harry. Both sisters resolved to delay conception as long as possible, until Cassandra Trelawney, a very famous seer in that age, suggested a date and time for conception in 1960 because among other things, the auspicious Caput Draconis was in Virgo. Your grandparents conceived James Potter, while my mother-in-law had Anastasia. The seers had predicted that childbirth under such astrologically powerful moments would negate the effects of the curse."

"Did it help?"

Joshua frowned. "Neither of them perished at childbirth, so I imagine it did help."

Harry swiftly glanced towards Sirius, whose face had turned ashen. Just a day ago, the man had revealed his thoughts about Euphemia Potter's health, and now they were finding out that his suspicions were true after all.

Still, one thing stood out above all others.

"Andrea, Camilla, Euphemia, Anastasia…" Harry muttered slowly. "All of them were female? Has there never been a male Greengrass since the curse began?"

"Two, actually. The first was your father, and the second…" Joshua gave him a pointed look.

Oh. Right.

He was damn sure he saw Daphne roll her eyes.

"As I mentioned in the letter, both you and my eldest daughter Daphne are the only ones alive with Greengrass blood and magic in them."

Harry wasn't so certain. Given the oddity of his own magic, thanks to the Peverell legacy, he sincerely doubted anything Greengrass-like survived within him. Already, he showed no signs of the Potter talent of transfiguration, and unlike his mother, he was no runesmith. Hell, he didn't even know any runes in the first place. All he could do was destroy.

Destroyers couldn't help people. They never saved people. They only got others killed.

His parents' graves were proof enough.

"Well if the curse only targets womenfolk," Sirius ventured, "then Harry—"

"Lord Black," Joshua's voice cracked like a whip, freezing them both, "I certainly hope you are not insinuating that since Mr. Potter is male, he can freely condemn my daughter to death. I daresay they are both innocent children deserving of an equal chance at life, wouldn't you?"

"No one is condemning anyone," Sirius retorted. "That being said, it's not my godson's job to save everyone. The last time he did so made him an orphan. He's still suffering from it unlike others, who managed to profit from the debacle."

Joshua's glare could have frozen a lake solid. "Do not talk yourself into something I cannot ignore, Black."

"Then maybe you should have stuck to mowing your own lawns, Greengrass."

Harry looked between the two men with growing wariness. Both of them were adults, with more experience and larger spell selection. While Sirius was a battle-hardened Hit-Wizard, they were in Joshua Greengrass's family home. If the magical defences in this place were anything like the muggle ones outside, things could very well spiral out of control. And certainly not in their favour.

"Sirius…"

"Just a moment Harry," his godfather replied, his own glare not abating.

"We are guests in his home," he reminded the man.

That hit Sirius like a bucket of cold water, as his tense frame eased out of its predatory stance. It was a rigid tradition within Ancient families. Guests were to be honoured and treated as members of the host's own family, and they in turn were expected to behave respectfully.

"I… apologise," Sirius grimaced as he addressed Joshua. "That was unwelcome behaviour on my part."

The Greengrass patriarch stared for a moment, before letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Apology accepted, Lord Black. Please see to it that it does not happen again."

An uncomfortable silence dragged on for a few moments.

The awkwardness of it all made Harry want to shake his head. Clearly, this meeting wouldn't be going in anyone's photo album. Then again, at least it wouldn't end in a funeral either.

"We, uh, you were explaining how the curse works," Harry inquired.

Joshua gratefully accepted the chance to steer the conversation towards more pressing issues. "Forgive me, I tend to lose my temper at the most inopportune moments, especially when my daughter is concerned."

Father and daughter met each other in a quick but meaningful gaze.

"That's quite alright," Harry offered, eyeing the interaction. He'd never interacted with the girl in the past, and had only heard of her from others. That didn't mean he wanted her to die because of something that happened between two people long before she was born. He knew all too well what it was like to have something out there conspiring to kill him. At least he had people who could actually do something about it.

But Daphne?

She'd lost her mother and grandmother to this curse. And unless something was done about it, it would be her turn very soon.

But what could he do?

A part of him couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like to have known her since his first year at Hogwarts. Maybe they could've bonded over their similarities and become friends?

Joshua cleared his throat. "The curse, from what I understand, imposes the concept of frailty upon the victim. Our family magic resists it, but as you well know, a woman is weakest during childbirth, which is when the curse's effects are extremely fatal. It is entirely possible that the curse specifically targets women, given its original recipient was one. But that does not make it any less true that Greengrass males are carriers of the curse, passing it down to their future generations. Your ancestry test proved that the Greengrass blood is strong in you, which means you will be passing it to your offspring. Especially with your status as a Greengrass Vessel."

"

Harry blinked.

"Come again?"

Joshua narrowed his eyes. "I presumed it was your nature as a Greengrass Vessel that helped stave the curse off."

Harry's stomach did a nasty flip. Greengrass Vessel? He must be wrong. Bograd had thought he was a Peverell Vessel and that made sense. But Greengrass?

"You- you cannot be right! I'm— I'm a Potter, not a Greengrass, and certainly not a—"

"Harry," pleaded the man, "Your father was descended from a Potter and a Greengrass. Even if you share Potter traits, Greengrass is the only one with Nobility. The conditions of a Vessel—"

"How are you so sure he's the one?" Sirius charged.

"Because…" Joshua began, but Daphne bet him to it.

"Perhaps father," she said, "I should be the one to answer that?"

"Of course," Joshua agreed. Harry wondered if this interaction was spontaneous or completely pre-planned.

"The Greengrass Family Magic is Summer, the blessing of our great-ancestor Freyja, hailed as the Scandinavian goddess of Light and Life. Queen of the Evergreen and the Lady of Flowers."

Harry did a double take. "Summer?"

"Life. Growth. Energy. Take your pick. We draw vitality from nature itself to strengthen both ourselves and our spells. When we die, all the magic belonging to the witch or wizard is to be returned to nature. It's a sworn oath every Greengrass practising the craft must make before they can begin their instruction in it."

"The path of a druid," Sirius summarised.

"Essentially."

"My daughter has been a most diligent practitioner of the Family Arts," Joshua said, pride filling his voice. Preplanned or not, that emotion in his voice was very much real.

Inwardly, Harry was completely bewildered. Magic from the world? Why did that seem so… familiar? As far as he could remember, he'd never really performed anything like that. Then why— why did it feel like he'd done it very recently? Like he'd sunk his teeth into the metaphorical roots of the world and drunk his fill?

"And… you think I have this magic in me too?"

"Do you not?" Joshua questioned. Harry was taken aback by the sheer hunger in the man's voice. He recognized it, the desperate urge to be proven right. He'd held the same urge in his eyes for quite some time now. "For many years, I have entertained the possibility that it was perhaps your being the Vessel of Summer that allowed you to survive the killing curse back in 1981. You have achieved feats otherwise impossible for people twice your age, the most obvious being your mastery of the Patronus charm and using it to repel a hundred dementors at once."

In a way, Harry could see where the Greengrass patriarch was coming from. The power of Light and Life against the curse of Death and the soul-sucking dementors. It made sense symbolically. And yet, it wasn't the case.

He was a Peverell Vessel. Cursed with the power of Unmaking.

It wasn't just life that could be unmade. Curses, too, were acts of magic, and thus vulnerable to Death magic. Given he had most recently lived through a most deadly curse, it was the only thing that made sense. The same held true for dementors. But did that imply he had been born with access to the Peverell lineage and family magic? Why him? What was so special about the son of a muggleborn? If anything, he should have had the Potter or Greengrass lineage show prominently, not something that was dormant for the last fifteen hundred years.

And yet, the ancestry test had listed him as a Greengrass. His mother had survived his birth, even without an astrological advantage. And his Patronus was… impressive.

But Life and Death? They were polar opposites. He couldn't have both. Could he?

What am I missing here?

Maybe Vernon wasn't that far off with his accursed epithet.

A freak. That's what I am.

"I find myself curious to know what is going on inside that head of yours, Harry," Joshua said.

At his words, Harry schooled his expression. "Sorry, I was just… thinking."

"Good," the man replied with an easy smile. "It shows you are giving this a fair amount of thought."

"You were talking about the curse?" Sirius prodded.

"It is our Family Magic that aids us in countering the curse," Joshua went on, oblivious to his growing turmoil. "However, as I mentioned before, curses become more malignant given time. And with two wizarding wars, and everything else that has been going on in the past century, the Greengrass family has been unsuccessful in producing a Vessel. Daphne has the bloodline, the affinity, and I have shaped her into the proper mindset as befits a Greengrass..."

"But she isn't a vessel," Sirius shrewdly observed.

A flicker of something terrible flickered over Daphne's face but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, as if were never there at all.

"Yes, she isn't, which is why," Joshua smiled at Harry. "I wish to offer my daughter's hand in marriage to you, Harry Potter."

…

Harry blinked.

"Say whaaat?"