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Chapter Text

...

The ringing of a bell at the front of his shop had Harrison looking up. A book on Greek Runes was in front of him. He was wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and black slack. The person who entered looked entirely out of place in his expensive robes to be in Knockturn Alley.

"Draco, what brings you by today?" He greeted politely.

"Hello, Harrison," Draco greeted in return, "How are you doing?"

Draco was one of the first people to enter his shop when Harrison returned to England. He was looking for a rare book on Defense. Ever since, he was a frequent visitor. They'd even had a few drinks together at the Fangs and Claws pub. Something that the Malfoy Heir had been weary of but had agreed to. The pub was welcoming to everyone as long as they didn't try to pick a fight inside.

"Doing well. Just reading a new book I got in. You're in luck, there is a new defense journal from Russia," Harrison said, getting to his feet and walking to the shelf to grab the journal in question, "Here. It's on the house."

"You don't have to do that," Draco told him, already pulling his bag out.

He handed over four galleons. Way more than the journal was worth. The extra however would go to his medical supplies. When asked, he'd answer that the prices were on a sliding scale. Those that could afford to pay, paid more. For those that couldn't afford, he was happy to take items in trade. Those who came to them either couldn't afford regular healers or wouldn't be treated by them for whatever reason.

He gave his friend an indulgent smile as he put away the money. He'd use the extra to purchase ingredients that weren't readily available. There was a man in France that was working on growing the necessary herbs. Until they were ready though, the best place to get the rarer ones was the United States. Being unknown as he was, Harrison could move across the countries without a second glance.

"Did you hear?" Draco said suddenly, setting his book down on the desk and taking a seat, "They're going to have a dueling competition at the end of the summer."

"That's right," Harrison agreed, returning to his chair, "You thinking of competing?"

"Father expects me to enter," Draco admitted, "I'm not very good at dueling, though."

"Focus on footwork and keep your wand movements tight," Harry said with a yawn, "If it's by relative age, you'll do better by focusing on them rather than large numbers of spells."

He turned the page of his book. Most of the knowledge in the boom were something he already learned. He'd hoped there would be at least a few new sequences. So far, nothing.

"Too bad you can't duel," Draco commented idly, "Wouldn't mind having a practice partner."

"I'm sure you can find someone to help," Harrison told him, "What about Nott?"

"Hates dueling," admitted Draco, "He wants to be a healer..."

"He doesn't have the right Talents for it," Harrison told him, turning another page, "If he wants to help healers he should do potions. He's good at them from what I understand."

"Yeah," agreed Draco, "Thanks, Harrison."

Harrison waived the thanks off. It was a simple matter of telling his friend his thoughts. If his friend wanted advice, he'd ask outright. Until then, Harrison kept his thoughts to himself. That was until his door slammed open, revealing a battered up young man. His robes were torn, his face bloodied, and his arm was bent at the wrong angle. A woman was at his side, half supporting him.

"Please!" She called to him, "Help him!"

Harrison was moving before she could finish her plea. He snapped to Draco, "Open the back room door. Start lighting candles."

Harrison laid his hand on the rune sequence by the door. It activated the disruption barrier that would keep outsiders from sensing anything that happened inside the shop. The door closed behind him. Then he was at the wizard's side. His arm was broken. It would need to be set. There was an obvious concussion. That could wait until after the bones were healed.

"I'll need to set the bones," Harrison warned, "It's not pleasant. Do you have something to bite on?"

"Just fix me," the boy demanded, pressing his lips together, and bracing his forehead against the bed.

"Draco, hold him down," Harrison ordered, taking hold of the boys' arm. With a practiced movement, the bone was pulled straight.

The boy howled in pain. Tears streamed from his eyes. Skelegrow normally would be the best option but not if he had to give Amy other potions. It reacted badly with anything other than a weak sleeping potion. He needed to be certain of any other major issues before he could give any potions.

Harrison slowed his breathing. He pressed a hand to the other's sternum drawing upon his Talent for Communion. He could sense the man's inner fire, his Vitalle. Focusing on his lungs, he sensed a broken rib that had pierced one. The other had a punctured ear drum and several bruised organs. Skelegrow would only worsen his condition if the broken rib wasn't fixed first.

This was going to hurt.

"I need your permission to draw runes in both of our blood," Harrison told them, his voice soft but firm, "They will not have an effect on either of us outside of the healing. Do I have your permission?"

"Do what you must," the girl said, her voice trembling, "I... we don't have much money..."

"Don't worry about payment," Harrison said, "I never ask for any more that what you can afford."

The boy, his face as white as a sheet gave a nod. Harrison cut open their palms and began the rune sequence to concentrate his Empathy. Empathic magic at the strongest levels could take the pain of others and force the body into healing faster. It was a part of True Healing magic. The magic had been lost to the ages and was now a myth. Only a handful of practitioners existed. All were healers that treated the outcasts of society. Just like him.

Finishing the circle, he pressed his bleeding palm to the circle. He drew upon the Vitalle of the boy in front of him and mixed it with the Vitalle of the World. His pathways burned as he took on the boy's pain from the Healing. Sweat broke out across his brow. The broken rib fused back together. The puncture in the lung healed. Bruising on the organs faded. He stopped short of healing the arm in case he had someone else come in that needed healing.

"Draco get a Sleeping Potion and a Skelegrow," Harrison ordered, his voice tight, "I'm going to splint the arm so it'll heal correctly."

"Right away, Harrison," Draco nodded before disappearing through the door.

Harrison was breathing heavily. A deep ache had settled in his ribs. That was the downside of Low Magick. It always came at a cost to the user. Still, there was little else that would work to Heal such severe injuries properly. Even the most basic of healing took a lot out of the user.

"You don't look good," the girl said, her tone worried, "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," grunted Harrison, "Just the price of my Talent."

Draco returned with the two potions and they helped the boy sit up to drink them. While the injury was healed, he would be sore for at least a week. As long as he didn't take any heavy blows to the ribs in the next few days he'd be fine.

Harrison lowered the barrier a moment later.

Chapter Text

...

Marvolo frowned at the reports from his men. Three of his followers were dead. Five were injured. They were ambushed while patrolling the area. There were too many deaths recently. As much as death was part of war, there were those they could have saved if they had a healer. Potion could only go so far.

The problem was that the majority of the healers in the country were controlled by the Ministry. They would only treat those approved by the Ministry. If anyone came outside of thane strict guidelines, they'd be kicked out and or reported to the Ministry. Another problem was that they didn't have a real Healing Talent.

Real Healing Talents were considered part of the Lost Arts. Lost Arts belonged to those who didn't use wands. Those without wands were assumed to be squibs. According to Salazar that once, those who used the now Lost Talents were common place. No one was sure when that changed.

If they wanted to win the upcoming war, they would need a healer. Someone willing to go against the norms. It would mean keeping them away from the Ministry. It wasn't impossible. There were always rumors. The issue was finding and keeping them.

"You know," ruminated Orion as he entered, "I heard an interesting rumor in Knockturn yesterday."

"And that would be?" Marvolo asked, setting aside the report and looking at his friend, "And did you find the books I asked for?"

Orion waved a dismissive hand. He pulled a book from his robe. Marvolo reached for it and waved for the man to continue. The cover was old leather, the pages were yellowed, and the ink was faded. This was the original copy. There was a slight hum to the book. A sign of a preservation charm on it. The title was in Latin. It was a study of the Lost Arts from the early 1600s if he had to guess.

"Lucius's boy is spending a lot of time in Knockturn apparently," answered Orion and Marvolo withheld a sigh, "He's visiting a new bookstore. Where I found that book actually."

Interesting. Abraxas's heir wasn't the type to spend his free time in the rougher parts of the Alley.

"Is there anything to note about the pwner?" He asked opening the book.

"He's young," Orion said, taking a seat in the chair across from him, "Early 20s, if I had to guess. There's something... familiar about him. Like I've seen him before."

"I see," mused Marvolo, his eyes sliding to the page of the book, "Keep an eye on the shop. If you notice any suspicious activity let me know immediately."

"Right away," agreed Orion, standing and heading to the Floo, "Oh, and the dueling competition is coming up. Are you going to to watch?"

"Probably," he said absently, not looking up from the book, "As the Undersecretary it's expected of me. Anyone you are favoring for the win?"

"Benjamin's boy most likely," Orion answered honestly, "He's taken his training more seriously than the other students."

"A fair bet," agreed Marvolo, "I'll keep that in mind. If anything happens..."

"I'll let you know," promised Orion as he turned accepting the dismissal easily.

...

A yawn escaped Harrison as he shelved the new books. There was a lingering ache from the Healing the day before. They were phantom aches from where he'd healed the kid. In a few days he'd be back to normal. Provided no one else needed healing at least. The sound of the doorbell had him turning to see a young man with dark skin and bright gold eyes enter. A familiar face to the store.

"Professor Dallien, it's been a while," greeted Harrison, "How are you doing today, sir?"

"I'm doing well," the man replied in a low tenor, "I wanted to see if you had any new books on Egyptian Runes?"

"Of course," nodded Harrison, "Right this way. I got in a new book two days ago. It's an original so take care in handling it."

The professor gave a huff of a laugh and a fond shake of his head. Harrison had the feeling the man would be by, so he set it aside when it came in. He went behind the counter to grab it. The book was in fairly good condition but the preservation charm had started to wear a bit thin.

"You might want to renew the preservation charm on it," he advised as he handed it over, "They are wearing a little thin."

"Will do, thank you," the other thanked him, "You've been a great help, Mr. Evans. How much do I owe you?"

"Two galleons," Harrison said, pulling out a paper bag, and wrapping the book, "Let me know if you need any others. You've always been a consistent customer."

"That I have," agreed the man, handing over the money, and taking the book in exchange, "Have a good day, Mr. Evans."

"Of course, Professor. Have a good day, sir," Harrison said, giving the other a smile and a wave.

He watched the good professor leave. Then with a sigh, he turned his attention back to shelving the books. If he didn't finish soon, then there would be no time to do the restock on his ingredients. That was the last thing that he wanted. A headache was already forming behind his right eye. He pushed up his glasses to rub at the ache.

It was a slow day thankfully. It was the second week in July. With the Duels being held at the end of the month, everyone was focused on practicing. Even the shops were suffering in Diagon Alley. At least it helped with his head.

There was the sound of the bell ringing and the wards pinged an alert. Werewolf. As a precaution, Harrison pulled a bottle of Fire powder from his pocket. He didn't want to use it. But the full moon was a few nights ago. They were likely to still be on edge. Still, he wouldn't deny them his services if they were in need of healing.

For a werewolf, the man was rather thin. He had sandy brown hair and amber eyes. His robes were rather badly patched. He looked somewhere between 40 and 50. His face was scarred likely from the full moons. A bitten werewolf over a born one if he had to guess.

"I'm in need of healing," murmured the man softly.

Of course he was. Harrison went to the door and turned the sign that he was closed before inviting the man into the back.

Chapter Text

...

It was an easier healing than what he'd done the night before. A few scratches that had yet to heal with a minor infection. The issue was it was worsened by the fact the man took Wolfsbane. Not the best potion on the market. It was a generic formula that meant the wolf was less violent but the healing factor was affected. It took longer to take effect. This made the man more at risk during a full moon.

By the man's shabby appearance he was a little surprised he could afford Wolfsbane. Despite being a common formula, the potion was still expensive. Especially to those without a steady job. Harrison knew that many places wouldn't hire a werewolf. It was why so many stayed in the wild. There were a lot of prejudices in Wizarding Society.

"The infections cleared," Harrison said, his voice soft, "And the scratches are healed. You need to be more careful getting injured on Wolfbane. Your healing is slowed taking that potion."

"I know," the other sighed, sitting up and rubbing his forehead, "I'm looking for a better paying job but no one wants to hire me. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Good luck," offered Harrison told him, "What's your name?"

"Remus Lupin," he introduced, standing and shaking his hand, "Tanner at the Fangs and Claws pub recommended you. Harrison Evans right? This might be an odd question but do we know each other?"

Harrison shrugged not giving a hint of his thoughts either way. It was a vague question. They could have met in the past. Or the man could just recognize the name. Though Harrison did know his name. Remus Lupin, a family friend to the parents who'd disowned him for being a "squib".

Squibs was a term given to those unable to use High Magicks. While true he couldn't use High Magick, he was still powerful in his own right as a Low Magick user. Something Britian and many other places had forgotten about.

Would Harry tell this man the truth? No.

"How much do I owe you?" Asked Lupin.

"Whatever you can afford," he answered with a wave of his hand.

The man gave him a hesitant nod. Harrison didn't expect much. Judging by his appearance, the man was barely scraping by. Favors were also a currency. A few sickles hit the counter.

"Thank you," the man said, "If you ever need anything..."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harrison promised, giving him a smile, "Have a good day, Mr. Lupin."

"You too, Mr. Evans," the other replied, heading out the door.

Harrison watched him leave through the shop window. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Discrimination always made his head hurt more than usual. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Society was a slow moving creature. It would take time and effort to change their minds.

...

Later in the evening, Harrison sat and the Fang and Claw Pub. It was a rather popular place to hangout. Unlike the Three Broomsticks, they were known to serve food to werewolves, veela, and any of the half breeds. The owner was a kind man named Tanner. He himself was a vampire who'd moved to England sometime in the early 1800s. From Harrison's understanding Tanner was from Francd but he didn't like to talk about his past.

An ale was pushed in front of him. It was the house special, a spiced blood wine. One of the few things that could get vampires drunk. They were immune to the majority of potions and spells. The drink was a specialty of the Fang and Claw and you couldn't get it anywhere else.

"Hey, Doc," greeted Nero patting him on the shoulder nearly pushing Harrison off his stool.

Harrison righted himself and took a sip of his drink, "Evening, Nero."

Nero was a local werecat. When transformed, he was a panther. He was a big guy. Standing at 6'4, he was well muscled, tan skinned, and dark eyed. He had a short shorn brown hair and always wore loose fitting clothes in case he had to shift. Being a born were, allowed him not only to keep his mind on the full moon but to shift whenever he felt like it. His wife was a witch. Two kids. Both were Spellcasters but due to their heritage weren't allowed in Hogwarts.

They were both going to the school in France, Beauxbaton's, on scholarship. The French were more accepting of those with mixed heritage. Many other European countries were. Britain was behind the times compared to its neighbors.

"You look a little tired," commented Nero, his tone worried, "You alright, Doc?"

"I'm fine," assured Harrison, taking a drink, "Just have been busy lately. I'm sure things will settle down soon. What brings you in? You normally don't come in this late."

"Ah, well, the wife sent me," admitted the man, rubbing his neck, "We're hoping that you can come look at Leo."

Harrison turned his full attention to Nero at that. Nero NEVER asked him to look at one of the kids. It was a point of pride. If he was asking, something was wrong. He pushed away his drink.

"When do you want me to come by?" Harrison asked calmly, already mentally cataloguing the supplies he'd need to bring.

Depending on the injury or sickness, he'd need different items. Normally, a potion would work. But with the amount of worry radiating from the Were, meant that it would require some form of healing. Plus most of his potions that were pre-made were tainted with solver. Luckily Nero's wife was a potionier and he'd be able to use her lab if needed.

"As soon as possible, Doc," the other answered, rubbing the back of his neck, "It's just... my son hasn't woken up in two days. We've tried everythin..."

"Alright," Harrison agreed, standing, and setting his payment on the bar, "I'll go grab a couple of things from the store. You can head home. I'll Floo to your place."

"Thanks, Doc," the other said, sounding relieved, "I know you're busy."

"It's fine," Harrison told him, clapping him on the shoulder, "You are a good friend. I'm happy to help."

...

Half an hour later found Harrison at Nero's cottage. It was an isolated area. Most were's tended to live in the country. There were a few that lived in the city. But the majority preferred the fresh air and the wild. Even born were's couldn't deny that call.

Harrison stepped out of the floo into a warm sitting room. He carried a pack that he kept his supplies in. The wards of the house immediately recognized him and the house welcomed him. He was a frequent visitor. The magic washed over him in and he breathed a little easier. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing deepened. A familiar face greeted him. Nero's wife, Marie, stood there, her eyes filled with tears. She hugged him tightly before pulling back and looking up at him. Her brown eyes were wide and her mouth was trembling.

"Thank you for coming, Doc," she told him, "We didn't know where else to go. He's not getting any better."

It was hard to see Marie so upset. She was the strongest woman that Harrison knew. She'd chosen a life of hate and ridicule by marrying and then being bitten by a were. Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a braid. She was in a dress that was stained from potions ingredients. Amber eyes met his and he could see she'd been crying.

"I'm here to help," Harrison assured her, "Where is Leo?"

"Upstairs," Marie said, leading him through the kitchen and up to the bedrooms, "The bedroom at the end of the hall. We moved him from his brother's room, just in case. He's a little hot but nothing that would indicate a fever. I checked him for bites and scratches and there is none. But..."

Her voice cut off as she tried to find the words. He placed a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. This was a sign that he needed to check the boy's Vitalle. If it was fading, something was seriously wrong. They entered the room. Nero was standing beside the bed, his hands clutching a small one.

Leo was almost a carbon copy of his father except for his height. He was shorter than average much like his mother. The child's Vitalle was sickly barely a flickering ember versus the flame that it should be. If it wasn't fixed soon he'd die without waking up.

"I need you to do a purification bathing on him," whispered Harrison without coming any closer, "Has your ritual room been used recently?"

Marie shook her head. Nero was frowning at him confused. The two exchanged looks before Marie took a step closer.

"No, we haven't," she answered softly, "We didn't think to use it since we couldn't figure out what was wrong."

"It'll give me the space I need to work," explained Harrison, taking a step back, and heading to the stairs, "Put up your safeguard wards. I don't want the chance of someone sensing this."

The couple nodded and they headed down the hall. They were moving quickly. He would do his own purification ritual and then set the runic sequences. There was no time for hesitation here.

Chapter Text

...

The room was dark except for a few candles in the corner. Leo was covered in a thin robe that would keep him warm while still making him easy to move. Harrison had the man's permission to use the child's blood to draw the Runes. The circle was a mix of the boy's Vitalle and Harrison's to draw out the sickness.

The rune sequence was made of a purification and a healing one. It would focus the using his Vitalle to purifying Leo's. He felt it when Nero stepped inside. Marie stood behind him not stepping in out if fear. Unlike his wife, Nero had a weak Talent for Communion with People and Animals. It worked well with Empathy and Healing Magicks. Especially when there was a healing that needed more power than normal.

"You don't have to," argued Harrison carefully.

Drawing upon another person's Vitalle in a ritual like this was dangerous. If the user didn't have enough, they could drain themselves dry. Or worse, the patient's body wouldn't accept the foreign energy and reject the healing. Both could result in death. Or turn a High Magick user into essentially a squib and leave them only able to use their Low Magick Talents. If they have any. For those without, their minds were left broken and empty shells that were unable to care for themselves.

Nero gave him a look. One that said the man was determined to help. Was that what it meant to have a family that cared? With a sigh he adjusted the rune sequence to account for Nero's assistance. It was a simple matter to adjust a few of the runes. The rest of the circle remained unchanged.

Then Harrison grabbed the silver ritual knife to cut open his palm. A warm hand, too warm to be natural, landed on his shoulder. Harrison tapped into the other's Vitalle intertwining it with his own. He pressed his hand to the center of the circle. The rune sequence began to faintly glow gold with Vitalle. His skin felt like it was burning. The heat was building in him. Nero hissed as his pathways burned.

Harrison's breathing sped up as he pulled at the sickness in Leo's Vitalle. There was an odd tainted quality to the boys's vitalle. Like the sickening sweet scent of rotting fruit. Poison. The knowledge that the boy had been poisoned sent a surge of anger through him. He stamped it down so not change the nature of what he was trying to do. But the thought kept circling his mind.

Who would want to poison a child?

The runes drew out the poison and the runes began their work. Harrison pulled more at the Ambient Magic. It swirled around him, pushing at the boundaries of his skin. A slight burn filled him as the power flowed through him. Behind him, he felt Nero's pain and sudden stiffness. The man's pathways were taking the strain of the excess energy.

He tuned out the others as he pulled harshly at the poison. Leo's Vitalle was slowly strengthening. Still the poison tried to eat at the edges of his pathways. With a burst of determination, Harrison pulled at the tainted energy. Finally it was free of the child and the runes began their work to purifying it until there was nothing left of the poison. He then began to gently push his and Nero's Vitalle into the boy to heal the damage. He healed the damaged pathways with quiet words soothing the pains that would last weeks otherwise.

Once he'd done all he could he pulled away. The runes faded and the circle closed. Leo's breathing was deep and steady. There was nothing left of the taint in his Vitalle. He'd live. Marie was at his side in an instant checking his son over. She checked the boys pulse. Then she hugged him tightly in relief. He was alright. The fever remained but it would pass in a few days. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he sat down heavily on the floor.

"Doc, you good?" Asked Nero hoarsely.

Harrison blinked his eyes open. He was tired. His head was killing him. It pounded in his ears. He was exhausted. More than that, his pathways were burned from the amount of power that had surged through him. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to even use a basic Invocation at this point.

"Just a bit tired," croaked Harrison, trying not to move his head, "I think..."

He didn't get any further. His body decided that was enough and darkness took him.

...

When Harrison woke up, his headache was had upgraded to a migraine and his paths felt raw. He blinked at the ceiling of the guest room. A glass of water was set on the nightstand. With a groan, he forced himself to sit up. His throat was aching. Grabbing the glass, he sipped on the cool water. He felt as if he had a nasty hangover.

The door opened and Nero came in. He was carrying clean clothes that looked like they belonged to Nero. His amber eyes lit up at seeing Harrison sitting up. He laid the clothes on a chair and approached.

"How are you feeling, Doc?" Asked Nero softly, "We didn't have any pain potions that would work on a wizard."

"Feel like I got run over," admitted Harrison, his voice raspy, "But otherwise I'll live. How's Leo?"

"Awake and asking for food," laughed Nero, setting the robes on the end of the bed, "He's eating everything Marie is putting in front of him. How can we ever thank you, Doc?"

Carefully Harrison swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood on shaky legs. He was still in the clothes he'd arrived in. They were rumpled and stained from the ritual. But they could be clean so he'd take care of that later after a shower.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, his voice rough, "A hot meal, a bath, and a bit of rest and I'll feel a lot better."

"Of course," nodded the man, "You can use the tub in here if you want. Otherwise I'll apartment you home."

"I think," started Harrison, "I'll just take a shower and head back. You have a family to worry about and I have a shop to run. If anything else happens don't hesitate to reach out. You should know however, it was poison that was effecting Leo. That plus the sickness he's been fighting sent him spiralling. He should be watched for a while. The next month at least. You need to figure out who poisoned him."

Nero gave him a nod. It was clear that the Were was furious that his son had nearly died. A low growl escaped him.

He took a deep breath to calm himself before saying, "Thank you. We will keep an eye out and find out who tried to murder my son. I'll send a few galleons to pay for your work."

"No more than you can afford," reminded Harrison with a faint smile as he grabbed the clothes.

The bathroom was connected to the guest room. He'd use that and head back to the shop. After a shower, the ache in his paths had receded and his migraine was a dull ache. With a sigh, he pulled on his cloak, packed his bag, and headed downstairs. Nero was waiting and took his shoulder so they could apparate.

Chapter Text

...

It was three days before he ended up returning to his shop. His head was still throbbing and his pathways ached. At least he could use his spells now. The first day of his recovery had been spent meditating to repair the worst of the damage to his pathways. It would have taken weeks without the meditation. Even after all that, there was a lingering ache. Only time would allow them to heal fully.

With a sigh, he pushed the door open and looked around his store. His wards welcomed him, the familiar magic of the place washed over him and his body relaxed. He flipped the sign to open. There was a stack of mail at the desk. With a sigh, he sat down and began to sort through the letters.

Bills and a request for a specific book. Nothing that would cause him stress thankfully. He made a mental note of when to pay the bills by. Then he began to start his opening duties.

A couple of hours later, his wards pinged and that a group were entering his shop. He poked his head around the bookshelves. Only one of the group of three were distinctive enough for him to recognize. Abraxas Malfoy, the eldest of the Malfoy Family. He was Draco's grandfather and a powerful figure within the British politics.

Behind him was another lord with dark brown hair and blue eyes. While Harrison didn't know him by sight he knew the man's magic. Corvus Lestrange, the current Lord of the Lestrange Family. Raven was his niece if he remembered correctly.

The third wasn't someone Harrison recognized though his robes were equally as expensive as the other two men's. Probably another Lord of a family. He had to force a polite smile onto his face as he approached. They were probably looking for some rare tome or a potion. As the duel was coming up, he was expecting more people to come in.

"Welcome to my humble shop gentlemen," greeted Harrison politely, "What can I do for you gentlemen today?"

All of them had strong Vitalle. Harrison made sure his shirt sleeves covered all of his marks. He wasn't going to give away what Talents were. It woudl bring about questions as the world thought he was a squib. Only those who knew the difference between High and Low Magicks understood that he wasn't useless.

"We are here to purchase a book," answered Abraxas smoothly, his mercury eyes were cold, "It was recommended by a friend that we come to this establishment. That you are discreet with those who buy from you."

"Indeed, I am," agreed Harrison, "My clients are entitled to their privacy. If you would tell me which books, I can show you to them."

"That's not necessary," said the Lord that Harrison didn't know, his voice dismissive, "I'm familiar with the store. We will let you know if there are any issues, Mr. Evans."

Harrison shrugged and said, "As you wish, sir. If you need anything just call for me. I'll be stocking the shelves."

Then he turned to the box of books in his hand and started to put away the rest of the new inventory. There was a quiet murmur from the trio. They were headed towards the back of the shop. It was where he kept the more obscure books. Some of the tomes were on the darker side of magic. But not enough to get him into trouble.

Harrison felt the wards ping again as the front door opened. Draco had entered based on the wards. He didn't hesitate to go to where Harrison was.

"Where have you been?" Asked Draco, his voice showing his concern, "You've been closed for longer than you've ever been. Did something happen?"

"Nothing major," he dismissed acutely aware of the others in his shop.

His tone was dismissive. It was an obvious sign that he didn't want to talk about it. Draco nodded his understanding. He knew that Harrison would be evasive if there was someone in the shop that he didnt trust. That was fine.

"Draco?" Asked Abraxas as he came back around the corner, "What brings you here? I didn't think you liked to come to Diagon Alley. Too many muggleborns."

"Grandfather," greeted Draco, his voice respectful, "I came to see how Mr. Evans was doing. His shop was closed for a few days. I get some books from him occassionally. What brings you here?"

"Lord Lestrange recommended a book to me," the elder man explained, "I have heard rumors of your visits. You seem rather fond of the shop keeper. Evans isn't a pureblood name. Am I right to assume you're either a muggleborn or a half-blood?"

"Its none of your business," said Harrison coldly, "This is my store. I don't care who or what you are. If you cannot respect that, then I will ask you to leave."

The men blinked at him in shock. He didn't care who you were, bigotry wasn't accepted in his shop. Draco looked torn between laughing and being exasperated at his words. He elbowed Harrison lightly in the ribs. Harrison didn't move his eyes from the Lords in his shop. They were powerful in their own rights. But he wouldn't tolerate that kind of behavior in his space. Even from Lords.

"I think you'll find that I can make or break a business," sneered Abraxas, "If I have a mind to, I can ruin yours, boy!"

"You are not the only one in power," reminded Harrison softly, his voice low and dangerous, "You may hold a seat in the Wizengamot and have the ear of the ministry but that's not everything. This is my place of business. You will treat me and the others in my shop with respect or you can leave. I do not care about Blood Supremacy and I am not easily threatened."

Especially in the seat of his power. Harrison opened himself fully to Ambient Magic, his pathways burned painfully. The wards welcomed the influx of energy, strengthening. His runes were hidden from sight and the wards were stronger because of them. Draco sucked in a breath of surprise. With his Talent, he had to be able to sense the increase of Magical Energy in the building. It was an intimidating amount. Not something anyone would want to challenge.

Wariness entered their eyes but he was certain they didn't know why. Most who used High Magick could only sense when Low Magick was being used. Most didn't have the Talent to use it themselves. Still, the instinctive knowledge of danger was there. Their survival instincts were warning them of a predator in their midst. Harrison was a Healer which meant it went against his nature to attack someone unless in self-defense or defense of another. His wards were his first defense and if these three attacked him or Draco the wards would make them regret it.

The unknown man smiled a little. A glimmer of respect in his gaze. He seemed amused at the reaction of his companions. He was different and that meant Harrison needed to be cautious. Those that were different were the ones that were the most dangerous. Different didn't mean good or bad. Only that their actions were less predictable. It made it hard to plan for what was going to happen around them.

"I apologize," the stranger said, bowing his head slightly, "We did not mean to offend you. We are not used to being spoken to like that. Especially not from an unknown person. I am Orion Black, Lord of the House of Black."

So this was his godfather's father. Harrison hadn't really known his family once he'd been declared a squib. He'd been abandoned without a second thought. From the research Raven had done, he had three siblings. Two brothers and a sister. All were magical and had gone to Hogwarts. None had tried to reach out but he suspected that was because of their parents. After all, a squib was an embarrassment. One that they would want to keep a secret and not acknowledged. Not that Harrison cared. He'd found a home and a place that he was comfortable.

"A pleasure, Lord Black," greeted Harrison, inclining his head in return.

Orion nodded but there was something in his eyes. Something that told him that the man was curious about him. It was unnerving. Especially considering their families history. Did he recognize, Harrison? That should be impossible. Right?

"And you, Mr. Evans," replied the elder man, "I believe that we have caused enough of a disturbance. Abraxas, you should pay for the book you found."

With a huff, the blond lord approached the counter. He placed the bagged tome on the desk and reached for his moneybag. Harrison named the price. It was a rare volume. Even more so, since he'd gotten it from Greece. An old friend of Raven's had found it. They'd traded a few favors and the woman had sent him the book. He would need to send her a thank you letter later.

After the transaction was complete the group of men left the shop. Draco was frowning at the door before turning to look at him. His gaze was thoughtful. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

"You know that is going to come back to bite you," stated Draco, his voice resigned, "You just insulted the heads of two of the Sacred 28. You're lucky that Grandfather didn't decide to punish your insolence."

"He could try," reminded Harrison as he put away the money, "I was a bit harsh but I refuse to tolerate discrimination in my shop. Remember that many of my clients are what he'd consider half breeds."

Draco nodded his agreement. Then his expression turned curious. He asked, "Where have you been? You've had your store closed for nearly four days. That's a record."

"Overdid it helping a sick kid," he said with a shrug, "I'll be fine. Just need to take it easy for a few days."

"If you say so," allowed Draco.

...

Orion watched the shop as Abraxas complained. That shop keeper had looked familiar. But he couldn't place where. He knew he'd seen the man before. He wasn't a pureblood, that much was certain. Still, there was something about him that made Orion feel that he should know him. There was a familiarity that should not have been possible. It seemed he needed to look into records or it would never leave him alone.