About a month had passed since the victory over Voldemort, but the Chosen One had yet to make a public appearance. Even the well-informed journalists had no idea where he was, which led them to speculate, stirring public concern. When articles began to surface, suggesting that the Boy Who Lived had died from the Dark Lord's curses, Dumbledore made an official statement. He assured everyone that the young hero was alive but had been afflicted with a difficult-to-treat curse. The entire country now believed that the Chosen One was suffering from the same illness that plagued his father.
Initially, Arcturus had considered exposing and punishing the schemers, but by now, he was just as disinterested in revealing the fraud surrounding the Chosen One as the others involved. He had nothing to gain from it, and he risked losing the good relations he had built with his new acquaintances. Besides, this whole affair left him with a sense of unease, as if he had been violated – not at fault, yet still somehow tainted. And so, he quietly adapted to his new life at Grimmauld Place 12, no longer seeking to impose justice or spread good deeds. He barely knew the side he had fought against in this war, and the more he learned about their peculiar culture, the more ashamed he became of himself.
After all, who had told him about the lives and culture of the purebloods? A sly, smooth-talking old man – a homosexual with a questionable past, without family, without children, without personal attachments, and without any real lineage – hiding behind foolproof slogans about the great power of love. A family of blood traitors and paupers, who had failed to preserve that very culture. His best friend – dirty, dim-witted, and gluttonous, with a temperament as loud as his mother's. That was all. His circle had always been limited, and Arcturus had never sought to expand it, accustomed to making do with little at the Dursleys'. Draco Malfoy had antagonized him, causing him to hate purebloods, but apart from Malfoy, no one from Slytherin had ever bothered him. Like Daphne, they all pretended he didn't exist.
Recalling the details of his life as Harry Potter, Arcturus began to realize that he had been deliberately shaped into a one-time-use hero, a fanatic. The schemers hadn't anticipated his survival, which was the only reason he had slipped away from them so easily. He wasn't supposed to survive; they would have "revived" Potter's pot-bellied counterpart in his place – as they had easily done with others, no one questioning the details of their supposed deaths once Dumbledore's rhetoric about the greater good had been uttered. In the early days, when Arcturus was still confused, they might have managed to manipulate him, but now, reconciliation was out of the question. He had shut himself off from everyone, not wanting to see or hear from anyone from his previous life. Except for Daphne's owl, the wards on his manor were set to allow only Ministry and Gringotts' owls through.
As a result, Hermione, desperate to meet with the former Harry, was faced with insurmountable difficulties. Owls returned with undelivered letters, and in frustration, they pecked her hands, while Ron's little owl also failed in its task. She had no chance of accidentally bumping into Harry on the street either, as she didn't even know what he looked like anymore. But Hermione didn't give up – she was a Gryffindor, an overachiever, and an unfinished mission weighed heavily on her self-esteem. She began keeping watch near Grimmauld Place, naively believing that purebloods used the front entrance.
This could have gone on indefinitely if not for Ginny. The former girlfriend of the Chosen One now rarely appeared at the Burrow, preoccupied with her own future, and even more rarely did she confide in Hermione. But this time, she came in excited, saying that Wood had promised her a trial with the Holyhead Harpies. Hermione was genuinely happy for her friend, not forgetting to offer some encouraging words about perseverance. But she herself was in a somber mood, and when Ginny asked her sympathetically, Hermione admitted her problem.
"Hermione, I saw him again the other day," Ginny said, her eyes wide. "Such a guy – and at first, I even thought it was him."
"Him? Who do you mean?" Hermione, who had never been one to look at other guys, was confused.
"Well, who else?! Remember two weeks ago, we were eating ice cream at Fortescue's? There was this stunning guy with the elder Greengrass..."
Hermione remembered. Even she, madly in love with Ron, had noticed that guy.
"Well," Ginny continued in response to her nod, "I saw him again recently with that Slytherin snake. And you know, he was looking at me… even Greengrass had to pull him away. I even thought about hitting on him – such a shame that a guy like that would end up with her."
Hermione nodded sympathetically. Both girls were convinced that rich and handsome men dreamed of marrying unrefined, poor girls like themselves.
"She dragged him away and, can you believe it, called him Arcturus! And that old Harry – he's also called Arcturus now!"
"Do you think it's him?!" Hermione gasped.
"I thought so at first. My jaw dropped, and I started to doubt it. He was dressed so sharply and acted like one of them, and our old Harry… well, you know him. He's a good guy, of course," Ginny's voice carried a note of disappointment, "but he couldn't pull off something like that."
"So, it's not him?"
"I don't know what to think. Arcturus is a rare name."
"It depends where. Your father's name sounds similar."
"That's because of my grandma, on my father's side. She was obsessed with Arthurian legends."
Hermione sighed in understanding. The combination of chivalric names with the Weasley surname – schemers, tricksters – didn't look any better than her own.
"If it's Harry, he'll definitely respond," she said confidently. "We're his friends. Ginny, he needs us. We have to find him and talk to him."
Since Lestrange's departure, Arcturus had met with Daphne two more times. They would meet in the afternoon, spend a couple of hours together, and then part ways. Arcturus was beginning to regret that there were hardly any places in magical Britain where you could take a girl – in a Muggle amusement park, half the day would fly by unnoticed. The third meeting Daphne scheduled a day earlier than she had promised, and she mentioned in her note that she had been asked to talk to him.
Arcturus was troubled. Having only recently appeared in Britain under a new name, he had no idea who might want something from him and why. He could only hope that Daphne had good intentions toward him and wouldn't cause any trouble, but still, as he arrived for the meeting, he remained on guard.
"Your aunt sends her regards," Daphne said as they greeted each other.
"Aunt?!" For some reason, Aunt Petunia immediately came to Arcturus's mind. "Are you sure you're not mistaken, Daphne?"
"It's hard to get this wrong," she laughed. "The Malfoy family tapestry shows that Narcissa Malfoy is your cousin."
"Nothing escapes you," he grumbled, realizing these women had already figured out all of his background.
"Yes, and don't even try," Daphne added. If she had found out who his parents were, she didn't seem shocked by it. "I've seen the tapestry myself—you're listed as the head of the Blacks and the heir to the Travers family. Narcissa is very happy to have a new relative and wants to meet you."
"Did you really have to tell everyone about me?" Arcturus scolded her.
Daphne didn't look the least bit guilty and wasn't in any hurry to take offense at his reproach.
"If I were you, I'd think the same, but it didn't happen like that. It all started when Snape came to Narcissa and began demanding the Black family inheritance from her..."
"What?" Arcturus couldn't hold back. "Who does he think he is, sticking his long nose into someone else's inheritance?!"
"As far as I understood from Narcissa, he was acting on Dumbledore's orders. But she didn't have the inheritance, so after Snape left, she immediately checked the tapestry to see who the Black family's first heir was and discovered you. She started asking through Astoria about who you were, and my sister remembered that you introduced yourself as Arcturus, so she asked me. That's how everything came to light."
"But why through Astoria?"
"Astoria is engaged to her son, so it was convenient to ask her. Narcissa thought our family could help her gather information about you. She can't do it herself, as she's being watched."
"I see..." So Narcissa had been clever enough to make sure the Ministry didn't track down her newly discovered relative.
"As you can see, I didn't volunteer anything first. When they asked, I answered—you didn't ask me to keep it a secret."
"It's not exactly a secret," Arcturus admitted, realizing that he wouldn't be able to keep his existence hidden. "I just didn't want to attract attention."
"But they're family, Arcturus... Narcissa is going through a difficult time right now; she'd be glad if you visited her."
He hesitated before responding. The days spent in the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor weren't his fondest memories—but on the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, he had survived only thanks to Narcissa's deception. If it hadn't been for her, they probably would have replaced him with the real Harry back then. Moreover, the Black family code stated that the head of the family was responsible for its members. The degree of responsibility varied depending on the closeness of the relationship, but it was always present.
"Harry!" Hermione's familiar voice suddenly pierced his ears.
Arcturus had often thought about how he would react if any of his old acquaintances addressed him by his former name, and he had already chosen his approach. He immediately snapped into it. His gaze froze in shock for a split second, but the next moment, his face took on a cold, detached expression. Daphne turned at the shout and didn't notice his momentary hesitation.
"…Indeed, I am the head of the family," he muttered aloud.
"Sorry, I got distracted," Daphne said with an apologetic smile as she turned back to him.
He didn't have time to respond. Hermione ran up to him, with Ginny visible just behind her.
"Harry!" she repeated, beaming with joy at finally finding the person she'd been searching for. "We need to talk, Harry!"
At that moment, Arcturus understood Lucius Malfoy's icy coldness when dealing with bothersome people.
"Miss..." He looked Hermione over, from her frizzy hair and baggy brown sweater to her worn, loosely hanging jeans and old Muggle sneakers, and said calmly, with a hint of uncertainty, "…Granger, if I'm not mistaken?"
"Harry?" she asked, stunned.
"You're mistaken, Miss Granger," Arcturus said, now genuinely hating this intrusive, endlessly oblivious busybody who couldn't figure out that it wasn't appropriate to approach him like this, especially when he was with someone. Everything Dumbledore had said about love was nonsense—it was hatred that worked wonders. Cold as Arctic ice, sharp as a goblin's dagger, and bright as the desert sun, hatred cleared his mind like nothing else. It was helping him maintain the right expression and perfectly choose his tone of response.
"I… yes…" she muttered, confused. "But… we really need to talk..."
"I don't recall us having any business, Miss Granger."
"But it's you, Harry, isn't it?" Ginny joined in, having caught up with her friend.
Arcturus gave her the same cold, assessing look.
"Miss Weasley? You look lovely," he noted indifferently. "Working to earn a dowry? Congratulations to your fiancé, an excellent choice. Ladies, how many times do I have to repeat—you're mistaken? If you don't know my name, that doesn't mean I answer to just any name."
"Yes… probably…" Hermione seemed to be starting to realize something. "May I have a word with you, mister… uh…"
"My mother taught me not to associate with people who accost men in the streets," Arcturus said in a bored, tired tone, almost drawing out his words like Draco Malfoy. "And I conduct all business negotiations through my solicitor at Gringotts, Miss Granger. I won't detain you any longer."
He turned his back on his former friends and offered his arm to Daphne. Her delicate fingers gently and reassuringly rested on his arm, then lightly tugged him forward.
"Bold of them," Arcturus muttered, still angry as they walked away. "They think the Order of Merlin grants them immunity from everything."
"They were calling you Harry," Daphne said.
"Let me guess." Arcturus forced himself to smile. "Does that name mean something to them?"
Daphne returned his smile.
"Oddly enough, he hasn't been seen anywhere lately…" she added.
"Where would he go? I'm sure he'll turn up soon—Dumbledore can't keep hiding the Chosen One from the public forever."
Daphne gave him a thoughtful look but said nothing. Arcturus noticed her gaze and covered her fingers, which were resting on his arm, with his other hand.
"If you're wondering whether the Chosen One is still alive, you can check the Malfoy family tree. He's a relative of mine too—one of his grandmothers was Dorea Black, daughter of Cygnus Black. So, when did you say we should visit Aunt Narcissa?"