Chapter 887 - Martial Alliance Ⅱ

Alliance Ⅱ

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Fleamont continues to read them the names one by one until he finds the name, "Euphemia Potter." A stifled heart-wrenching cry escaped from his lips before the pain overwhelmed like a fog. He felt that he couldn't breathe nor much less live without his Euphemia. They had been together since Hogwarts as far as he could remember. Just what was he supposed to do without his Euphie?!

It is said that everything comes with time and it did as Fleamont is pulled out of his frozen stupor by an impossible soft whispered reminder in his ear, "James." Yes, what of their son, James? A wave of clarity rushes through him and causes him to wildly blink. He somberly studies his surroundings only to find himself once more at Mould-on-the-Would. In a rather detached fashion, he notes that Mould-on-the-Would is over halfway repaired and by morning would be mostly repaired

Letting out a painful groan, Fleamont stiffly rises to his feet causing his knobby knees to loudly protest from age and the bitter cold. A depressing lonely feeling washes over him. He had no kin to speak for his mother was the last of the Fleamont pureblood line. His last remaining and closest kin were his cousins, Charlus Potter, and his son, Charlus Ⅱ, who died years ago, both died shortly after the other.

A cold feeling of certainty fills his ċhėst as Fleamont realizes that he is all but alone, but worse only his son and he remains of the Potter lineage except for very distant cousins across the ocean residing in the America's. Should anything happen to Fleamont, then his son would become an orphan. And that was a very distinct possibility considering the age of Fleamont.

At that moment Fleamont remembered a long-forgotten detail from the past. A detail that his father, Henry Potter had once told him in passing while still serving on the Wizengamot. It had been prior to his father, Henry departing from the Wizengamot in 1921 for condemning the Minister of Magic Archer Evermonde's refusal to permit the wizarding community to offer aid to muggles during the first great war, (World War Ⅰ). (And also, the reason that Henry's outspoken pro-Muggle views excluded the Potter family from being counted among the Sacred Twenty-Eight families.)

At that time, Fleamont had still been at Hogwarts and had not yet begun to court his wife-. He still recalled his father solemnly sitting him down to discuss a past owed debt. His father still had hope in his eyes at that time, before the future stole his father's hopes to change the world for the better.

"Fleamont, I wish to discuss a few things with you," Henry carefully said.

Curious and with a hint of mischief in his bright, warm eyes, Fleamont smiled at his father. "Whatever do you mean, da?"

"With your becoming a young man, I wish to clarify a certain subject before you should elect to wed," Henry carefully phrased causing Fleamont to shrug. "What I mean to say, son, is do you know what an owed marriage is?"

"Isn't it some sort of a broken marriage contract or owed betrothal?"

"That's right, son. However, in our case it is a bit trickier, you see, our many great-grandmothers Iolanthe Peverell married our many great-grandfathers Hardwin Potter. However, Iolanthe was the last of the Peverell line and the Peverell line carried an outstanding debt which is still owed even to this day by her descendants."

"What?" Fleamont squawked in shock. "Exactly to who, Da?"

"The Prince's," Henry solemnly answered. "You must remember that the debt is still even owed to this day and the debt may be called upon at any time to be fulfilled."

"Why are you warning me, Da?" Fleamont grumbled. "I mean it's not like I am going to marry one of them!"

"Indeed, it is a distant possibility, but the Prince's may have a daughter, and that debt can always still be called upon to be fulfilled," Henry sternly warned.

Fleamont laughed off his father's words at that time but secretly was chagrined by them. That may very well be the reason, why he disliked the Slytherin 1st year Reginald Prince the instant he saw him at Hogwarts in Fleamont's 7th year. It certainly did not help matters at that point that an infant daughter had been shortly soon after been born into the Prince lineage named Georgine Prince.

A trace of embarrassment flashes across Fleamont's face as he recalls his irritation at the younger first year even resulting in him dueling the younger boy, who gave as he got, and which admittedly Reginald's even then was a rather terrifying foe. He lets out a rueful sigh at his past behavior, before breathing deeply in and out. He needed to protect his son, and this was the only way possible. He only hoped that someday James would forgive him and understand that he did this out of necessity to protect him.

Recalling that Prince Manor would only accept guests via floo, Fleamont returns home to change out of his damp clothing. The instant he arrives homes, Nimmy wails and throws herself at his feet. Oddly reminiscent of her younger brother, Dobby, Nimmy brutally bangs her head on the floor. "Bad Nimmy, BAD! Nimmy should be punished for not stopping mistress! Bad Nimmy!"

"Nimmy, STOP!" Fleamont ordered causing the house elf to let out a loud sniff.

Nimmy raises her badly bruised face. "Is Master going to give, Nimmy, clothes?" The house elf whispered in a trembling voice. If Nimmy was set free, where would Nimmy go? What master would ever want a free house elf?!

"No, Nimmy," Fleamont wearily sighed, "but I could use some warm tea with a dash of brandy."

"Nimmy obeys!" The house elf eagerly squeaked before vanishing with a loud pop.

Fleamont retreated to his chambers and flinched at seeing his wife's cloak and bed robe hanging on her side of the room. He hastily changed trying not to let out the stifled cry in his ċhėst. He hurries out and is besieged by Nimmy, before downing the cup of piping hot tea in one gulp, before flooing to Prince Manor.

The grandfather clock rings exactly five times as Fleamont emerges from the floo. Taking care to remove the ash from his clothes with a swish of his wand, Fleamont carefully strides down the hallway before a faint pop causes him to whirl around. The Prince's house elf stands there in his pajamas and his spectacles hanging precariously at the tip of his nose.

"Mr. Potter, we were not expecting you until a more decent hour," Tadbey chided the elderly wizard. "Whatever might I do for you, Mr. Potter."

"I wish to privately speak to your master, Reginald Prince," Fleamont firmly replied.

Tadbey pointedly arches his brow and frowns. "I have no master, Mr. Potter, you would do well to remember that," he sharply replied. "However, you are in luck, Mr. Potter, my employer has yet to retire for the evening. Step lively, Mr. Potter."

Fleamont hurries after the house elf trying to decipher what the house elf meant by his words. It wasn't until Fleamont nearly reached the study of Reginald Prince that he recalled, his son, James mentioning that one of the Prince house elves was free and in fact actively employed and paid. He and Euphemia had laughed it off at that time as that seemed far too progressive for Reginald Prince.. And yet if Prince was capable of such a feat, perchance, there was still hope.