Quidditch World Cup Final.
End of Summer.
This has been the longest summer of my life—both of them. It should have been the opposite, no time turner during the summer meant I was back to twenty four hour days. But dear god, the people, the politics, the performance of it all…
I sigh, rubbing my tired eyes.
"This is it Harry!" Sirius shouts, patting my back. His words barely escape the roaring and clamouring of the crowd above. "The final stretch!" He grins at me over his Bulgarian scarf.
As much as I appreciate his effort, it changes nothing. One hundred thousand magicals are flickering before my eyes. Each and everyone one of them a unique taste, a mixture of diverse flavours of magic that assault that sixth sense of mine and my ritual enhanced eyes. And that's without mentioning the magic weaved into the fabric of their clothes, the various enchantments on their jewellery, the glamours… so many glamours.
It's not too bad I suppose. Last year I'd have been too overwhelmed to even open my eyes, and the year before that…
Still, I'll need to rest after this
The horn sounds, for the third time now. Boosted by magic to an almost deafening quality, it swallows the crowd, overwhelming them. Both teams are in place, the horn is for me.
I take steadying breath, feeling the pleasant warmth of my wand against my forearm, forcing what is unneeded into the chamber.
"Let's get on with it then." I breathe the words out and step onto the field.
Start of Summer
French Ministry of Magic.
FLASH!
"Monsuier Potter! Can you-"
FLASH!
"'Arry, what can you tell us about-"
"From witch weekly-"
FLASH!
"You and the werewolves-"
FLASH!
"Is it true-"
"The Remus Lupin foundation-"
FLASH!
"-Are you dating Miss Granger!?"
FLASH!
We keep walking, the headmasters hand on my shoulder directing the way. I ignore how his lips quirk up at that last one. Paying no mind to it. Neither do I acknowledge Sirius giggling like a teenage girl on my left.
Remus is unable to join in the amusement, flinching slightly at the shouting and having to cover his eyes due to the constant flashing of the cameras. He walks slightly ahead, completing the formation. The three wizards doing their best to shield me from the press who in truth should not be here.
How did they even know we'd be arriving today?
A silly question I realise. I look up and find my answer.
Ahead of us, a few paces away now, stands who can only be the French Minister for Magic and his congregation.
Évrard Barthélemy.
I can't decipher his age. He looks young, for a Minister especially. Younger than forty in the least. He's lean, standing straight-backed and when he steps forward to shake hands with Dumbledore, he's unhurried.
"Albus, how have you been? It's been far too long." He says in slightly accented English, beaming. As he speaks with the professor, I observe his magic, finding it steady but unremarkable. I look elsewhere, taking in the rest his greeting party.
My eyes slide over the guards-Aurors, six of them dressed in sharp blue and gold robes. I turn back to the minister, to his right is a portly woman, with her black hair pulled into a bun, leaving only a few strands to fall before her face. Her skin was pale, touched with olive, with faint lines around her eyes, offset by the subtle glamour, denoting many a sleep less night.
On the ministers left stands a man who feels familiar to me, though I have not met him before. His robes are the same blue and gold as the Aurors, though his is decorated with medals. I'm about to search my memory for where I've seen him before when I note Albus and Évrard turning to face me.
"—and you know who this is of course." I hear the professor say. "Harry, this is Évrard Barthélemy, French Minister for Magic."
"Minister, a pleasure to meet you." I greet him in French. He beams once again, though his smile this time is a touch more genuine.
"Harry Potter O.M. Truly, the pleasure is all mine." He switches to French with glee, shaking my hand and pulling me into a hug, making a show of it, letting the pictures flow. I'm reminded of why I'm here, why he brought the press here, Politics.
He pulls back, still smiling. "Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce you." He turns, gesturing to the familiar man in blue. "Monsieur Potter, may I introduce Laruent Delacour, our Head Auror, he's ensured your security for your stay with us."
I don't let my recognition show.
This is not how I thought I'd meet Fleur's Father…
He shakes my hand with a smile as everyone seemed to do, though his seemed far more genuine. I was taller than him and I would only continue to grow. It didn't bother him and I knew from his daughter that not much did.
"Monsieur Potter, glad to have you. You'll be safe with us." He looks over my shoulder, amusement shining in his eyes. "Though with the good professor here and who you'll be staying with, I don't really think you'll need my men."
I give him a small smile. "Let's hope not."
"And this-" the minister continues, moving to the woman, "-is Mademoiselle Maëlys Corbin, she works with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"A great pleasure to meet you Monsieur Potter. I'll be here for whatever you need." She says. Her demeanour warm and her smile full, as she takes me in. Her thoughts as she looks behind me on the other hand…
'Vile beast.'
I'm not surprised, but still…
It seems we've got a long way to go
Albus introduces Remus, which dims the minsters smile a tad and forces Corbin's warm demeanour to recede. The only one seemingly not affected was the head Auror. But that was to be expected, his wife was a Veela.
"Now, how about we—" Évrard started, though the headmaster cut in with a cough.
"It might be best if we speak some where less crowded." I look around the atrium, flooded with people, all paying attention to the gathering. Those who were meant to be working were pretending to do so quite poorly.
"Of course. Of course Albus, follow me."
I fell back, letting the two lead the way as i turned my mind over the French ministry, comparing it to the Italian and British.
"I didn't know you could speak French." Sirius whispered to me.
"You don't know a lot of things." I waved back at a little girl in the crowd, the flashing picked up again.
"That's no way to speak to your godfather." He said absentmindedly, winking a pair of girls. Remus cuffed the back his head.
"They're not here for you mate." He said with a laugh.
"Oh? And I suppose you think they're here for you Remus?"
"Partly." Lupin grinned at me. I felt my lips twitch.
"Harry maybe… but you!? Don't make me laugh. Nobody wants you, you hairy bastard."
"If they don't want me, then they definitely don't won't you. Nobody wants to smell like wet dog." Remus winked at me. I laughed then.
"Oi!" Sirius snapped to no effect. He sighed. "This is going to be long trip dealing with you too."
"Really? We haven't even met Severus yet." Sirius made a choking sound and looked at Remus in horror. Remus continued with great joy. "Yeah, he'll be joining us in Generva to meet with the ICW."
"What!? Tell me you're joking!" He exclaimed. Remus' smile only grew. He grabbed my shoulder, turning me slightly as we walked. "Why did you invite me?" I raised an eyebrow at that.
"I didn't." He looked unconvinced. "Anyway, for the right price, I'm sure there's at least one woman who'd be happy to spend the night with an old man."
"Shut up." He said without heat. Glaring at Remus as he laughed. "We're the same age!" He snarled at him.
"Whatever you say old man." The werewolf said chuckling.
Negotiations, meetings, conversations even, can be dreadfully dull as a Legilimens if you let it.
Most people don't have a lick of occulmency, and the rare few who do don't tend to be very good at it. Which is to be expected, it is a difficult skill to master.
It turns out Snape's method was not wrong, the quickest way to learn was through experience. The constant attacks and the pain would force the mind to begin to defend it self automatically. The mind would come to know the difference between an intruder and itself, allowing for easier expulsion. It's the reason Hermione is so good at it, after all this time, she knows where her mind ends and mine begins.
She could push me out, she could resist, she just… doesn't.
In this room, the only people, barring me of course, who can occlude the mind are Headmaster Dumbledore, Fleur's father and the Minister Évrard. The latter of which, whilst not very good, is a surprise. Fudge had none, but… well, he's Fudge, so it was to be expected.
It makes sense that the heads of such departments would have it. I wouldn't be surprised if Laurent only developed it subconsciously to deal with his Veela wife and daughters.
Try as he might, the ministers leash on his thoughts is weak. They continue to slip through, resounding in my head even without me making eye contact. That limitation is gone, for surface thoughts atleast.
The stronger the wizard, the more learned, the more practised, the less your spells are restricted by wand movements and incantations and requirements. There are some spells that require chants, lines and lines of dialogue to perform but overtime, as you cast it again and again, perhaps only half of the words would be needed. Less, then none, in time.
When I was younger, I needed eye contact just to glean the Dursleys surface thoughts. I needed focus to delve into their minds. Then I received the wand, the magic came easier, I had to put less effort in. More practice, less focus, less eye contact unless I wanted to fully dive in. Even with the blindfold on, so long as I had my wand, it was child's play.
I let the minister's thoughts come, using it to dictate the conversation, stirring to where i want it to go, to eventually persuade him of the validity of my plan and how it benefits him, just as I did with minister Fudge.
The Remus Lupin Foundation. My answer to the werewolf registry and a way to start supplying werewolves with jobs, or for those that were lacking it, the beginnings of an education.
Sirius, Albus and I would sponsor it for a while still but that would come to change once we met with the ICW. I would convince them of its merit and persuade them to enforce it throughout all their countries.
I had Fudge in my pocket, I would collect Évrard throughout my stay in France and then move onto the rest. Germany, Albania, Bulgaria. Countries, which along with Britain and France, have the highest concentration of werewolves. When they bent, the rest would have to follow.
"Monsieur Potter, I'm not quite sure I understand." The minister was saying, looking a bit unsure.
"The werewolf registry, it needs to be abolished." I say, noting how the woman, Corbin's, eyes flicker to Remus at that. "Come Minister, let's not pretend. Everyone in this room knows that it and the werewolf code of conduct was a pointless act."
"Pointless!?" Corbin shrieks, aghast. "It was to ensure the safety of the people! So we would know who was infected! Who was—"
"Tell me, madamosielle, how many signatures have you received this year? How many werewolves have come to make themselves known to the ministry?" I ask, gazing at her. Her thoughts are spiralling and she is left floundering.
"I-well, you see—"
"None I'd wager." Remus cuts in, speaking in English. The translation charm ensures we are able to understand him and he us. A nifty spell but overuse turns the tongue blue.
The madam glares at him balefully, he just smiles, continuing. "Maybe six or seven in the last decade. Most werewolves aren't stupid enough to make themselves known. I would know." He gives a self deprecating smile.
There's fury in Corbin's eyes, followed by hatred so thick it almost drowns me. The source, I see in her mind, is the snarling creature that took her fiancé and ripped his throat out with its teeth. I can sympathise, it was hard to see the infected as human when all you could hear was gnashing and growling as blood dripped from their fangs.
I remember it like it was yesterday, it was so easy to put them down and feel nothing afterwards. I had to remind myself that they were still human.
So I understand her frustration at being talked down to, at having her work essentially called pointless by one of them. She thinks she's saving lives. I can sympathise truly, but this is more important. So before Corbin can give life to the cutting remark building up in her mind, I speak.
"All these acts do, is create further division and tension where it need not be." I turn, speaking to the only one I really need to convince. "Minister, my potion works. You've seen that, these last few months." He nods slowly in agreement, looking between Delacour and Corbin.
"There has been a decrease in werewolf sitings." The Head Auror states, his tone light. I press on.
"Professor Dumbledore has spoken to Newt Scamander and he is of agreement."
"The magi zoologist?" The minister asks, giving dumbledore a queer look.
"A bit before your time Minister." Albus replies to him, eyes twinkling. "Not many remember but it was Newt who pushed for its creation in 1947. He had my backing." The professor admits to Remus sadly. "We thought…" He paused looking lost in a memory.
"You thought it might protect them and us." Maëlys Corbin says. "You were only trying to help." Albus shakes his head, looking every bit his age.
"That we were. But I suppose we didn't think it through enough." He looks at the minister. "I agree with Harry. A change is needed."
"But what change Dumbledore?" Évrard looks at me, drumming his fingers on the desk, his thoughts swirling. He flickers his eyes between Remus and Sirius, the latter of whom has contented himself with sampling the delicacy's the minister has provided. "This foundation… I've read a little about it in your Daily Prophet, but I want to hear about it from you."
"With the abolishment of the acts, no werewolves need register. They'd be treated as regular wizards, wizards who need a potion to sleep every full moon. But we've seen stranger things non?" I grin at him, continuing. "The foundation will be their first point of contact, teaching them how to brew the potion, and whatever else they need with the aim of being integrated into society. You could see a werewolf walking past you on a regular day and not even realise. We're not so different."
I would, their magic remains the same.
"My uncle Remus was the defence professor at Hogwarts this last year. Ask anyone and they'll tell you he's the best we've had in quite a while." I turn to Albus slightly. "No offence Professor." He chuckles.
"None taken my boy." I continue.
"They can be just as capable if given a chance. With the ministry's help, we can begin to change things." I look at him, building my intent.
"Monsieur Potter, you speak as if all werewolves are just downtrodden. You forget there are some who take pleasure in the full moon. They enjoy the hunt." Monsieur Delacour puts in.
"You speak of Greyback and his ilk. I'm not telling you not to hunt them. Slaughter them, serve justice, treat them how you would any regular dark wizard." I look between Delacour and Évrard before I continue. Leaning forward, wandless hands visible on the desk. "France has one of the largest population of werewolves in the world. You've been dealing with them since lycanthropy spread from Northern Europe. The murders and attacks, let the Head Auror deal with that. Let him bring those animals to justice for the good of the people. The other things however, let you and I handle them. The mistrust and discrimination, the fear of the full moon. We can begin to put a stop to it. You can be the minister that puts a stop to it." As the words leave my lips, I launch the probe. Having observed his magic, how it ebbs and flows, its shape and size and composition, I wrap myself in it and breach his mind.
The probe is light, delicate. It needs to be to slip past his meagre occlusion and avoid being noticed by Albus beside me. For this I need focus, and I cannot move too fast.
I dive in. I don't force or coerce, just nudge. Playing on his pride, his ambition, his wish, the same as all men who find themselves in his position, to be remembered.
In the outside world, it looks as is he's pondering my words, when his eyes, a brown so dark they're almost black, ignite. Slowly at first, like dormant coals breathed upon and then all together at once.
"What would you have me do?"
I have him.
I smile.
"At the ICW…"
I wake to the sound of birds chirping, surrounded by magic most ancient. It clings to the walls, the floors… the very air is tainted with it.
It is to be expected however. This is Flamel's home. Who knows how many centuries he's lived here. And the wards too, dense and lively, comparable to Hogwarts in their capacity.
It's the equivalent to having your underground bunker be your home… Though I suppose when you're guarding something so precious…
I stand to freshen myself up. The shower is warm, I take my time. There's no need to rush. I step out after a while to pat myself dry before the mirror. It isn't enchanted so I have to prepare on my lonesome.
The face that stares back at me looks older than fourteen. The ritual and the time turner working in tandem. I take no issue with it, puberty, that time that made young men out of boys would explain it away. And it was helpful too. It'd help people treat me even more seriously.
All according to plan.
I step away, leaving the bathroom. My magic whispers, my wand listens and responds. Lifting itself up from the desk across the room and running through the air on wings unseen.
I dictate with it, the bed sets itself in order, clothes-not formal like yesterday, casual, I intend to see Fleur today-rise from my case and I allow them to dress me.
When I step down the stairs and move to the kitchen, it is to the sound of laughter and the warmth of relaxed conversation. Sirius and Remus are being regaled by a man six centuries their senior.
I had seen him last night once we returned from the ministry, spoke to him briefly and noticed it then but still… there was something deeply wrong with him.
His magic was vibrant and lively, like the summer sky or a breeze in spring. He was absolutely thrumming with magic that felt joyous and peaceful. But his body was the complete anthetisis.
His skin was pale, wax like and wirey, wrapped around too brittle bones that seemed about to snap if you touched him with any amount of force. The hair on his head, if it could be called that, was wispy and lifeless. His body was cold as a corpse. If it weren't for his eyes, a brilliant blue brighter than Dumbledore's own, I would have thought him a well animated inferi.
"Ah Harry! You decided to join us at last." Sirius shouted, waving me over. Remus smiled, he'd been doing that a lot more lately, and I felt the world's greatest alchemist's gaze track me slowly as I made my way over to them.
"Good morning. I figured Remus and Mr Flamel had suffered enough dealing with you." I settled into the offered seat, ignoring Sirius' pouting and began loading breakfast onto my plate. I looked around. "Where's the Professor?"
"Oh, he stepped out for a bit. Always doing something that one." Flamel said. It came out softly, I didn't think he could be louder if he tried. His gaze fell down to my plate and the modest amount. "Come now dear boy. Take as much as you like. We don't keep food in the house so I kind of went overboard. It was fun to cook again."
"Thank you sir." I added some more eggs and fried bread to the plate. I looked between my father's friends. "What did I miss?"
"Mr Flamel was telling us about the people he met. Who was real, who wasn't. We had just arrived at Leonardo Di Vinci." Lupin explained.
The conversation picked back up, I ate and listened. Asked a few questions. It nice to learn from somebody who was actually there, who'd experienced the life, and wasn't a bumbling ghost.
Althrough the meal I noticed Flamels eyes on me as if he were searching for something. Like a rare puzzle he sought to solve. I paid it no mind. He called out to me as I was getting up to leave.
"Mr Potter, could I speak with for a moment?." I raised an eyebrow, looking to Sirius and Remus. They both shrugged, having no idea what the conversation could be about.
"Of course sir. Shall we speak here?"
"No. My office is best for this conversation I think." He made to stand up, his weary bones groaning and popping in protest. When it seemed like he would falter, his magic did the rest, willing his body up like a puppet on strings. His eyes met mine.
"Follow me." I obliged.
His office was not far but this was the most elderly man in existence, he moved achingly slow. I was half tempted to levitate him, and from the subtle quirking of his aged lips, he it knew too.
We stepped in and he made his was around his desk, I stood and felt. The oldest of magics that seeped into the walls and the enchantments on the various artefacts on every side. All were works of art and great magic, one drew my eye however.
A crystal ball on a small desk in the corner of the room. It tasted like lightning on my tongue and I could feel static crackling in my eye. Just like the prophecies at the ministry.
A different flavour of divination then…
"Sir," I look to Flamel, finding him watching me. "What is this? What exactly does it do?"
He tilts his head, curious, as if he did not expect the question. "You can't tell? Albus would not stop mentioning your sense for magic."
"Some sort of divination." I approach it, elaborating. "Like the prophecies in the British ministry. It's—" I stop. The ball is glowing, displaying an image that…
I watch how the magic of the ball fluctuates-no, resonates. If I had gazed upon Erised with these eyes I imagine it would be similar.
I look to the alchemist. He smiles, inclining his head back to ball. I look again, thinking of something else. The image changes, from the hall of prophecy to a garden. A girl with silver hair-Fleur and another younger identical girl.
"It shows you what you're thinking of." I whisper. I think of home, unsure if it will show me the world I come from, unsure if I want it to.
The image changes slowly, as if unsure of itself. It warbles, Fleur and Gabby disappear behind the new scene.
The room is familiar though it is not from my memories. It is hers. Hermione's, filled with books and her. She lies abed with crookshanks, staring at her arm where the bracelet I gave her sits.
The image warbles again, Hogwarts, the black library, clear skies, the Weasley garden where I see Ron and the Weasley's and Neville surprisingly all playing quidditch. It continues to change, unable to stick to a scene. Fleur and Hermione seem to be the most prominent. The image tends to return to them before changing again.
I don't know to make of it.
You do…
"What did you think of?" The voice is weak and yet it cuts through the room.
"Home." I continue to stare at it. It flickers still. "Anything? Anywhere?"
"Yes. Anything, anyone, anywhere." The pride in his voice is tangible. "It shows them as they are now."
My thoughts drifted, the images flickered to follow.
Voldemort.
A small baby with crimson eyes nursing itself on some woman's teet. Not just any woman either. Bella. The death eater memories rose up from the chamber, Rabastan or Rodulphus, I'm not sure which. Nights entangled in the sheets, still coated in blood and smelling of smoke from the raids, heat, pleasure—
I slammed my mind shut before I could lose my breakfast. I force the memories back into the chamber and seal it.
Horcruxes, I think. Are they where I remember? Nothing appears.
Hufflepuff's cup.
A vault of gold. The Lestrange crow flashes.
Resurrection stone.
A graveyard. A mansion. A hut. The names Gaunt and Riddle.
I look up from the ball at last, finding myself closer to it than I expected.
"You're wondering why it's here and not with Albus or somewhere it could be of greater use." Flamel starts, I glance at him, saying nothing. "Albus bade me never to allow him to use it. He does not seek power and it cannot be moved." I frown. He sees my expression.
"Try." And so I do. With magic and without. It does not budge. Flamel watches on in silence until I have accepted that it will not be moved.
"Everything comes at a price." He says simply. "You would know that better than most. Come, sit." I move to do so, thinking on his words.
To gain, you must give. I suppose that's why the wards are so heavy, he's not just protecting the stone but… his other magical creations and artefacts which do who knows what.
It also explains the state of him. His body and his magic. The price for the stone.
I sit and he observes me. I get the feeling he'll continue for as long as I let him.
"You wanted to speak sir."
"Indeed." Magic forces his muscles to work, tells his throat to move and the words to come. "Tell me about your eyes. What did they require?"
"Only if you'll tell me about the stone." His lips twitch, he seems pleased.
"Good. Never give anything away for free." He gazes at me for a moment and then decides. "Death. Thousands and more." Callous words drip from his tongue. Observing his body, I am not surprised.
"A Basilisk." I say, feeling no need to lie. And he has helped me more than he can know, unintentional as it was.
He hums. There's quiet for a beat and then,
"You want to change the world, don't you Mr Potter?" The change in topic is abrupt, I mask my surprise with Occlumency.
"How have you come to that conclusion?"
"Not a denial." His lips twitch as if to smile, but stop halfway, his muscles failing him and he doesn't feel the need to complete the gesture with magic. "It's your eyes. The intensity, as if you can will the world into the image and shape you desire. I've borne witness to it many a time. Albus had that look when we first began our correspondence. He lost it when his sister died and in the decades that followed."
"I'm told war has that effect."
"It can do. Or it can have the opposite. Grindlewald never wavered, even in the end." I tilt my head.
"Is that it? You think I may be a second Grindlewald in the making?"
"I don't know what to think yet." The alchemist admits, his lips pulling into a slight frown. "All I know is what I've been told. What the newspapers say. Albus told me you were brilliant since you first walked through the Hogwarts walls. Nothing seemed a challenge for you, you drew to you professors and students alike. He had first been worried, you reminded him of another."
"Tom Riddle." I mutter.
"Just so." He said, having heard me. He continues, "But he spoke to you. Got to know you he said and all his worries were washed away."
"If that's the case, why are we still having this conversation sir? If Albus is not worried…" I tapper off, watching as the old man shakes his head much to the protest of his body.
"Albus would have me teach you. He has grown to care for you, his opinion of you is blinded by love. He sees what he wants to see. My time is precious, I'll not have it wasted. I will need the truth if I am to teach you anything. And truly, I wouldn't mind. You seem a bright boy. I read your work for Morning Star. A potion with a variety of uses. And then your Magnum Opus so far, Waning Crescent. Ingenious really." He pauses, meeting my eyes. I see no intent and feel no probe. I send none in return. "Tell me the truth. Why would a boy jump into the chamber of secrets to perform such a ritual? What drives you? Why do you do what you do? What do you hope to accomplish?"
I let the words settle, drum my fingers against the arm of the chair. I look at Flamel, weighing and coming to a decision.
"I would have your word, that none of what I tell you is spoken is again without my express permission. Not to Albus, not to anyone or anything." He listens and still he doesn't seem surprised.
"I expected as much." He says softly. "And I did just tell you not to give anything away for free… We'll need someone to bind it."
"Kreacher." There's a pop and the old elf is there, bowing by my seat.
"Young master calls Kreacher." He looks up at me with worship brimming in his beady eyes.
"I need you to witness an unbreakable vow Kreacher." He nods, eager to serve.
We stand, clasping hands. I take care not injure him. Kreacher nearly cries as I pass him my wand.
It doesn't take long. Just three lashes of fire before we are alone again, the vow is not extensive, it doesn't need to be.
I expected some change, perhaps a feeling in my heart as is described but there is none. The vow doesn't hinge on me, there is no way for me to break it.
"You asked why. It's quite simple really. This world is wrong and I want to live. I want to be…"
"-think they'll figure it out eventually. Gabby already suspects something but—'Arry!" I look down at the shout and feel her turn in my arms. "Are you even listening?" Yes, partially… not really. She must have seen the truth on my face. An irritated huff leaves her and she turns to face the ravine.
"I'm sorry…" I murmur against her skin, layering her neck and shoulder with gentle kisses. She leans back against me unconsciously, flushing. Then she seems to catch herself.
"Stop that, you can't use your mouth to get out of everything." An elbow to my stomach emphasises her words, I pull back laughing.
We sit there resting against the willow tree, basking in the summer sun and the light breeze that accompanies it. A perfect day if there ever was one. Still my mind is elsewhere. She must sense that.
"What's wrong? What are you thinking about that steals you away from me Mon Cherí?"
"What you speak of… It has been tried before."
"Not by me." That draws a laugh out him, but it is more of a wheeze really.
"No. No I suppose not." He turns his eyes over me, searching intently for something I cannot decipher.
"I was alive before the statute. I remember what it was like. The good and the bad. Trust me when I say that for the majority, life is better now." A wand rises from behind him, worn and weary looking like its master yet still thrumming with vitality. He doesn't touch it, it floats beside him. I watch as the intent builds up within him, mirrored by the wand. They sing as one.
An image plays out in the office, witch hunts and inquisitions. The deaths of countless, wizard, squib and even muggles just suspected to be magical.
"That is what it was like in the end. And from what you say, it will be much worse if the statute fails."
I did not tell him everything. Didn't mention crouch jr or Azkaban. He agreed too readily to the unbreakable vow for him not to have a way out of it I thought.
"When. Not if, when. It will fall, and perhaps there will be peace for a time. It will not last. You know this to be true as well as I sir. You have seen more war than perhaps any other." He nods, calm and collected. The wand returns to the shelf behind him.
"I am an old man. I have seen most everything there is to see. Done everything there is to do. Good and bad. I have witnessed the fall of kings and queens and I have seen men like you come and go. It is two centuries too late for me to be getting involved in world affairs." He eventually admitted. "My decision to aid Albus with the stone and now this werewolf debacle…" He sighed. The silence that followed hung heavy on my shoulders. I let it, waiting for the man to make his decision.
"I will teach you, Harry Potter. Alchemy and more if you prove capable. Good students are rare to find. Don't fret, I trust Albus' judgment for the most part. Even if I didn't, I'm not so innocent as to condemn you for crimes you may yet commit for those you love… He knew Riddle was no good from the beginning. And yet he loves you. What does that mean I wonder? …Prophecy hangs over you, it is clear for those of us with eyes. You have my vow. Let us see how far you can go."
"Is it her?" I look down, blinking. In Fleur's hand is a copy of the Witch Weekly. The picture they used was of the last quidditch game of the year. Showing me landing with the snitch in hand, then being engulfed by Hermione's hug. We spin together, laughing and after a few moments are joined by the rest of Gryffindor's team and crowd.
"Where were you even keeping that?"
She frowns. "Don't avoid the question."
"No. It's not her, I was thinking about…" Flamel, ministeries, the ICW, Voldemort. "The future."
"Sounds ominous." She turns slightly, giving me a sideways glance.
"Nicolas Flamel is a strange man." I tell her.
"So are you. It is the folly of all great wizards."
"You think I'm great?" I grins. She sniffs haughtily.
"Perhaps." A smile plays at her lips. "Look at what you've done at such a young age. It is no wonder you are so loved…" She trails off. I follow her gaze to the magazine.
"This girl… this Hermione Granger…"
"What about her?" I feel a stone settle in my stomach.
"Does she love you?" She turns her head to face me, staring, eyes on mine.
What can I say? What should I even say?
"Don't lie to me again…"
I sigh. "It's complicated." The heat I expect in her gaze is gone. Her eyes and tone are all ice.
"How so?" I turn it over in my head, round and round. I find no better alternative, I go with the truth and try to explain.
"When I was young, before Hogwarts, I lived with my aunt and uncle as you know. They're muggles. They didn't understand magic. They hated it even. They hated me. I didn't truly understand why. I was scared, I'll admit. I didn't understand where I was or what was happening or why. But I realised something. I could make bad things happen to those who were mean to me. I could make them hurt. I could tell when someone was lying. I could feel what someone was thinking when they looked at me. I realised I was special. That I could do extraordinary things. So I made my aunt and uncle love me. Made them treat me just as well as their real son."
I don't look at her as I speak, as I weave lie and truth together. I don't want to see her face as I open up to her. I don't want to hear her thoughts either, I close my mind off.
"All was good for a while. But being special was lonely. When I got to Hogwarts I thought that perhaps it would change. Still, amongst those like me, I was still different. Special. They couldn't reach me. The closest one…"
"Was her." She murmurs.
"Yes. But she grew sad. She had always been brilliant, ahead of all the rest. She was bullied for it. Friendless, alone with just her books. She decided that was what mattered. All the pain would be worth it if she was still ahead. Until now. Now she was second. And to her, all I did seemed effortless. To her it felt like the whole world had been turned upside down. I tried to cheer her up… I made a mistake."
"What?" The word seemed to slip out without her awareness. The confusion in her tone forced a chuckle out of me.
"I know. Me? Make a mistake?" She swats me playfully. I continue smiling slightly. "Unthinkable I know, but it's true. She felt joy and warmth and peace in such a way she had never felt before. It was overwhelming. And ever since…"
"Oh."
I look up then. Watch the various emotions dancing across her face. I expect horror. I don't find it. "Is that all?"
I frown, squinting at her.
"I just told you that I —"
"You were lonely." Those three simple words arrest me. She blinks up at me. "You were a child and you were trying to help."
"That doesn't—" she brings her finger to my lips and cuts me off.
"Look." I blink at her. She brings her forehead to mine. "Look and see." I acquiesce. I breach her mind, diving into the sea of flames, going where she wants me to.
I look and see.
The memories flash by quickly.
Fleur is young, popular and loved. Puberty begins for her, earlier than her classmates for she is Veela and they are not.
The boys her age and older notice.
Friendships and kindness rot, turning to ash in her mouth, swallowed up by the envy of the many.
The girls that used to beg to play with her now only hate. She tries to tell them it's not her fault, that she doesn't want the boys or their gazes, but they don't listen.
They never listen.
She's alone then. Tears, her only companion and it only gets worse. As she proves more capable at magic than them, the animosity blooms.
She learns to be cold, to shield herself behind a mask. It is not her fault that the boys cannot control themselves. Why should she have to suffer because those petty, fickle girls choose weak boys to love?
It is lonely and cold, but it's alright. She still has Maman and Gabby and Papa. She is Fleur Delacour and she is better than those weak little girls.
If only she believed it…
The cold remains until that one day. Black hair and green eyes.
WARMTH. PLEASURE. PEACE
Me
You
I pull back, staring into soft blue eyes.
"I understand Mon Cherí. I would have done anything if I thought the loneliness would end. Thankfully we met when we did." Her soft lips are warm on mine, sweet and perfect as always. She pulls back, her fingers trail my cheek spreading warmth with their path. "You act as if she's broken. But I can see that she's not. Her whole world was torn asunder. She felt like all she had was the books and her place. Until she met you…" She looks back at the paper, staring for a moment, contemplating.
"The interviews. Students in your year. They say she is always by your side. You are her world… I can respect that." She places her hand on my chest. Feeling my heart as it beats. "I would like to meet her. Her and all your friends."
I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't this… acceptance? Understanding?
"You will. Soon." She raises an eyebrow. I explain the upcoming Triwizard Tournament.
"Hmm, and you said there's a ball?" I laugh at that.
"Yes, there's a ball." I run my finger through her hair. She gives me a side glance, waiting, her lips quirked up.
I turn my eyes away, finding a flower on the grace. I pluck, run my magic through it softly, flooding it with the soft delicate emotions of life. It blooms and glows a vibrant golden light, thrumming with magic.
It continues to grow, sprouting more petals. It is beautiful in the end, just like it's intended.
"My flower, will you go to the winter ball with me?" Her eyes light up as she takes it from my hand. She shoots me a wry smile.
"I don't know. Let's see how you do at this ball the minister is hosting for you."
"Your father…" I try to remind her.
"My father will be pleased or he will be nothing at all." She declares. Her eyes shoot back to the magazine, giving it a soft look. "Plus, Granger… Hermione, has too many photos with you. I need to catch up. You are mine after all." She says grinning. I observe her mind, feel her thoughts, know what she's thinking but still I have to ask.
"You're not upset are you?" Her eyes are bright and shining, she kisses me on the cheek and then on the lips.
"Non. You made a mistake. A silly mistake perhaps. But you were young my love. All you can do is take responsibility."
We lie there as the sun crawls across the sky. I blink and it seems like hours have passed.
"Are you worried about the ICW?" The question is murmured into my neck.
"Non."
"What if they don't listen?" She asks, half asleep.
Dumbledore. Flamel. Me. The ministers from France, Britain, Germany, Albania, Bulgaria…
They can't refuse. There's no good reason to refuse. Once I've convinced the other minster, it'll all go according to plan.
Voldemort will not find as much support with the werewolves as he'd expect. And the rest that flock to him?
They'll be swiftly wiped away.
"They will." I decide, my voice laced with steel. "They won't have a choice."
Quidditch World Cup Final.
End of Summer.
"Harry!"
"Harrykins!"
"Mate!"
Shouts greet me as I reenter the top box. Followed by variations of;
"Well done Harry."
And many a pat on the back as I make my way to my seat.
"Harry." Hermione greeted, her tone delighted, as I slipped in beside her. "You did well. It was brilliant really. Not too long."
"Thank you Hermione."
"You seem tired." She goes to pull out the red silk blindfold from her bag.
"It's fine. I'll rest later." She looks like she wants to argue but lets it go after a moment.
I recline in the chair and shut my eyes, the surrounding conversation picking up.
"I'm telling you Nev, Bulgaria will win." Ron declared confidently. "Krum is bloody brilliant!"
"I'm going to have to take your word for it mate. I still barely know a thing about quidditch." Neville admitted easily.
"We disagree Ronnikins. The Bulgarians look a tough bunch. And far be it from us to dispute the greatness of Viktor Krum—"
"—but our money's on the Irish."
"Technically, Fred, our money is on Krum and the Irish." George? corrected.
"Semantics Fred. Semantics! Ireland to win but Krum to catch the snitch and will be filthy stinkin rich!" Fred? Then added. "Oh and Harry too, I suppose." It seemed they were both Fred today. It didn't truly matter. They seemed quite pleased with themselves and the money we were about to make together.
"Harry." Ron called over. I opened an eye, spying him past Hermione. "Back me up here. Bulgaria's got this. Krum's got this. You spoke to him in Bulgaria didn't? Convince these fools."
"Aye, at a gala for around five minutes." He was a solid bloke, though I didn't think he much liked galas or things of that nature. "We didn't get to speak much about quidditch. He'll catch the snitch probably. But they won't win. Sorry mate, my money is quite literally with the twins."
Ron frowned. "I still think Bulgaria have got this." He argued stubbornly. "Krum will catch it quick."
"Sirius! Back me up!" He shouted.
"Stop fighting!" Ginny hissed across the aisle. "It's about to start."
And it was at that. The referee sounded the horn again and the teams were off.
I moved to reach for the omnioculars when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Potter." Malfoy greeted without his trademark sneer.
"Malfoy." I said, question clear in the statement.
He nodded at the pitch. "Good speech."
"Thank you. When did you get here?"
"Oh just a few moments ago." He turned his eyes over the rest of the box. Hermione to my left, the Weasley's, Sirius and Neville. His eyes were brimming with distain. They found mine and wisely he said nothing. "You've been busy this summer. Father did not think that business with the ICW would go through. Gave him a great shock when he read it in the paper."
I turned my eyes back to the field, watching as a Bulgarian beater smashed a bludger at one of the Irish chasers.
"I'm sure he wasn't the only one Draco." Even without looking at him I could see his pleased smile at my use of his name. "Many doubted. Many were wrong. Times are changing, we mustn't be left behind." That gave him pause. He nodded after a while.
A cheer went through the crowd as the Irish scored and their leprechauns were let loose.
"Will you be continuing the study group this year? I know I'm not the only one curious." Draco had leaned forward to be heard over the crowds roar. "We'll understand if you're too busy ."
"Don't worry Draco." I felt Hermione's sidelong glance. A smile speared itself across my face of its own volition. "I'll make time." He nods, pleased.
"I must get back to mother and father. I'll see you at Hogwarts." He said and made to leave.
It was no sooner than he was out of hearing range did Hermione turn to me. A silencing charm fell over us.
"What a prat." She hissed.
"Truer words Hermione." I patted her hand. "He'll have his uses."
"I suppose." She sighed, leaning her head against my shoulder.
Keep your enemies close they say. Sooner or later, Tom will make a move. Probably with the Triwizard. If the image in Flamel's crystal was true, he was still in baby form. So they'd probably use this tournament to try and get my blood.
After which he'll be residing at Malfoy manor. The Malfoy heir would be my eyes and ears. There were things Snape would be unable to share or might not know.
As much as I was initially against this 'study group', it was looking to be quite useful. The only people left in it were Ron, Hermione, Neville, Susan, Hannah, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Zacharias Smith, Anthony Goldstein, Sue Li, Padma, Blaise, Malfoy, and Nott.
If it happened to be only be people with connections to other countries, death eater spawn, those who I knew had influential parents or the potential to be influential themselves, that was just a strange coincidence.
I'm sure Slughorn would impressed…
I picked up the omnioculars and settled to watch the game.
It was a blur of motion. I decided I much preferred playing to watching. Not to say that it was boring but being up in the air, alone with only another and the tiny snitch to separate you from glory? There was nothing quite like it.
Every time Bulgaria scored there was a brief lull as the whole stadium waited for the referee to settle himself after trying to dance for and with the Bulgarian cheerleaders. The Bulgarian cheerleaders, Veela, were dancing in 'clothes' that struggled to hold up their assets. With that and their allure, he had no chance.
I felt Hermione's grip on my arm tighten.
"They're Veela." She frowned.
"I know." She snapped her head to me. "Don't be so upset. Most people don't know Occlumency. They don't even realise what's going on."
She looked around, noting how most of the men had glacéd eyes and looked half about to jump down from their seats. Neville and Ron were unaffected, but Ron leaned forward anyway, and I didn't blame him. A beautiful woman(magical creature) was a beautiful woman.
Hermione it seemed, didn't share my opinion. Her frown only deepened as she beheld Ron.
"Leave it Mione. It's not that serious."
"They're bewitching people!"
"That's not how it works." I remember Fleur's explanation and my own experience. "The allure just makes you want to get their attention. To impress them. It doesn't make you fall in love." I pause, remembering. "Unless you sleep with them."
She eyed me suspiciously. "When did you become so knowledgeable on Veela?"
"I was reading up on them during the summer." Her eyes narrowed at that and her lips thinned.
"You're lying." I laughed looking back over at the pitch as the game picked back up again.
"How'd you figure that?"
"I can tell when you lie." Truly? We'll have to test that. I wonder if she picked it up from me…
"Come on. Don't worry about it. Enjoy the game." She huffed but didn't protest.
It would only be five minutes later before Krum caught the snitch. Unfortunately for my Bulgarian friend, it seemed something's are just meant to be.
My gringotts vault would be all the richer for it.
The tent, filled as it was with so many people and so much chatter, was far more comfortable than it had any right to be. A different type of comfort to the top box Cornelius insisted we have for the day, 'A token of our friendship dear boy!', that was more luxury than anything.
I took a seat by the sofa, watching the fire and half listening to the twins prance around the tent with our winnings. I'd advised the against betting with ludo, and thankfully, it seemed they'd listened.
Hermione slotted into my side a moment later. She brought her knees to her chest and settled in the fetal position, leaning against me. She'd been extra clingy since I returned home. I knew the reason. And it was for that same reason that I suspected Ginny was moping around and stealing glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking.
We sat like that for a while, the tent grew quiet with sleep on most everyone's mind.
"Did you figure it out?" The words came softly from my side.
"Hmm?"
"The shield." She elaborated. "You were working on it before the summer."
"No. Spacial manipulation is tricky. And my focus was elsewhere." I admitted. I noticed Ginny glancing at us from the stairs, newspaper in hand, looking sad and confused.
"What's up with Ginny?" I asked. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps it was something else.
"Oh. She's upset and jealous. She has been ever since the daily prophet showed pictures of you and that girl from that gala in France." Looking at Ginny's hands, it seemed like the exact issue. A few moving pictures of Fleur and I dancing, her head on my shoulder, us eating, me with the minister and his wife. There was nothing too crazy in the pictures with me and Fleur, we had to pretend it was our first time meeting after all.
"She's wondering what she needs to do to get your attention." Hermione added. I said nothing for a moment. Letting the quiet settle, watching the flames in the fireplace rise and fall.
"And you?" I asked. "Are you jealous?" She laughed a little at that and then stood. She came close to wrap the blindfold over my eyes.
As she did so she whispered, with her lips by my ears, ice in her voice. "Of course not, don't be silly. I have nothing to be jealous of. You'll always come back to me."
She moved then, pressing her lips against my cheek and the corner of my lips softly.
"Goodnight Harry."
I sighed, leaning back against the chair, waiting for sleep to take me.
Future me can deal with it.
Something shook me and I stirred, falling out from Morpheus' grasp into alertness at once.
"Harry." Mr Weasley hissed. "We need to leave. Get the others and get out. Make for the portkey. And stay together!" And then he was gone. I stood up, removing the blindfold and began making my way to the tent's entrance.
Ron was already with Hermione and Neville. Where Neville looked tired, Ron looked even more so.
"Come on, Harry." Hermione whispers urgently, grabbing my hand to lead me out of the tent.
Screams assaults us from every side. Hermione tries to lead us to the trees where the portrays are. I tug her hand and pull us to a stop.
"Harry, mate, we need to go." Ron urges. The other two look to be in agreement. But I remember what is happening and we can use this to our advantage.
"We need to go that way." I nod my head back to the centre of the camp.
"You want to go back to where all the screaming and fire is coming from?" Neville gives me a look that suggests he thinks I'm-"Are you mad!?"
"No. Trust me. We need to go now!" They look unconvinced but when I turn to go, they have no choice but to follow.
"If we die Harry…" Ron begins, I cut him off.
"We won't. It's not that dangerous—" Explosions ring out over the roaring flames. They blink at me as we continue to make our way over.
"This is so stupid." Hermione mutters, her grip on my arm tightening.
The smoke from the burning tents gets thicker as we approach the centre. It begins to drift, thick and rolling, making it almost impossible to breathe. People were running all around, screaming, wailing and crying.
You're wizards for God's sakes…
Spell-fire continued to ring out resulting in dull explosions echoing over the flames.
We broke through into the clearing and spot exactly what I expected. Black hoods and white masks. A crowd of them, tightly packed and moving together as one with their wands in the sky. There muggles with them, made playthings by powers above their understanding.
"Death eaters…" Hermione breathes.
"And sympathisers." I add. Noting the larger group of unmasked wizards and witches following them and laughing.
"You brought us to group of death eaters!?" Ron tries to whisper but fails horribly. Before one of the masked men can turn and spot us, I rush them behind a tent.
"Keep your damn voice down!" Neville berates him, failing to do so himself. Hermione casts a silencing charm and just smiles at my thanks.
"Enough." That quiets them.
I look out, the group are still having their fun with their muggles. Spinning and twirling them. Levitating and the dropping them. Making them dance to avoid spell fire. I can't tell which is which amongst the death eaters, not able to spot the platinum blonde hair I'm looking for.
"Harry." I look back at Hermione's voice. "Why are we here?"
"To save the muggles." I lie. She smacks my arm and then hisses at me.
"Be serious!" Can she actually tell? Interesting…
"I am… partially. I need to capture Lucius Malfoy."
"For Merlin's sake… Now!? Why?" Ron asks.
When else will I get this opportunity?
"I'll explain later."
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "He might not even be here."
A valid point, though I don't tell him that.
"What do we… need to do?" Neville yawns.
"Scare the crowd and help me find Malfoy." I tell him, watching as the death eaters continue march to levitating the helpless muggles all the while.
"Harry, there's a lot of them." Hermione reminds me. I nod, not seeing the problem. "And the Aurors will be here soon."
"Then we better do this quickly." I look between them. "Are you in or out?"
"In of course." Hermione's smile is all teeth. Neville just nods.
"Bloody well too damn late to be out now isn't it? I just wanted to sleep…" Ron grumbles. "Let's get this over with."
"Alright. Here's what we'll do…"
It didn't take long. We split up into four corners, keeping the group in the centre between us.
We needed something distracting. Something loud and flashy to scatter the sheep. What fit that description more than lightning.
The spell, the one Voldemort had intended to kill me with, was deceptively simple.
The spell separated positive and negative charges, forcing the wizard to uses their body and wand build it up and finally to provide direction, allowing the charges to slam back together, releasing white hot forked lightning.
It is dark magic however, and so it comes with a cost most deadly. The charges must be separated and built up internally before crashing together and being fired off. The precision required makes it impossible for most as any misstep means grievous injury or, in the worst case, death.
I have only cast it once before, and though we are in a hurry, I cannot rush.
I separate and build up the charge. Slowly but steadily. My wand moves before me, sparking as it trail it from side to side. I feel the lightning cross my heart. I guide with magic. Over and over and over again. My wand spins, growing hot in my palm. I run my magic through the ring.
Trusting they've gotten the signal, I crash the charges together in my wand and aim it just before the group of death eaters. I need them alive after all. I close my eyes, weary of the incoming flash.
"Fulminimens."
"Morsemordre!"
The two shouts ring out together.
Lightning screams out of my wand and crashes into the tent before the group with a bang that hurts my ears from even this distance.
The following explosion knocks most of them to the ground. Cries of shock and pain ring out. The super sensory charm cast by Hermione and Neville made the lightning's effect ten times worse.
I approach the group, some of them are fleeing. Half blind and deaf. Stumbling and tripping over each other to get away from another attack that is not coming.
Most have collapsed on their knees, screaming their throats raw and holding hands up to bleeding ears.
I let the sympathisers run past. Any in death eaters regalia I stun and leave for the Aurors.
Who are conveniently as late as ever. It works to my advantage this time I suppose…
A few attempt to fire spells at dangers unseen, they don't get very far. I come to the centre. Neville and Ron, with their faces covered, are already at work looking when I arrive.
"Found him yet?" I slip in beside them.
"I think so." Ron pulls the mask off the latest death eater. Lucius Malfoy's face stares up at us in shock, with a pained expression. Blood still pouring from his ears. "There's your ferret alright." Ron says, kicking him before stepping back.
Tonight's prize, my ticket into gringotts. A simple Imperio, then forcing him to take some polyjuice and I, well technically he, could walk right through the front door to the Lestrange vault.
He wouldn't make it out alive, the waterfall would wash the polyjuice away. But I didn't need him to, he just had to destroy the cup.
Fiendfyre, don't even try to extinguish it. Go out in a blaze of glory…
I stare at his blank eyes.
A better end than you deserve…
"I think we might've overdone it." Neville muttered, contemplative. I follow his gaze, finding Hermione casting diagnostic and healing charms over the frightened and blind muggles.
"It'll be fine." I reassure him, turning and picking up Lucius.
After I have him, we make our way over to Hermione.
"How are they?" She looks at me, frowning slightly once she spots Malfoy.
"They'll be fine in a few hours." She determines. She looks at the bodies scattered about. "Not too sure about them."
"They don't matter and we don't have the time." I pass Lucius to her and drop to a knee in front of the three muggles. I check their memories, just a bright flash of light and no more. I wipe them anyway, not wanting to risk it.
I pull back to the sound of space cracking in the distance and the thudding of feet.
"Tell them we got separated and I went to look for Hermione." Ron nods, placing a hand on Neville as they get ready to side along. "Oh, and don't let anyone check your wand." I remind him.
He grimaces, taking a glance at the green skull in the sky. "It would be quite hard to explain casting the dark mark."
Neville glares at Malfoy before turning his eyes to me. "Be quick." They twist and vanish with a crack. Leaving Hermione and I with Malfoy Snr.
"Hold on tight."
Hermione tightens her grip, placing her head in the crook of my neck. "Always."
I keep a steady hold on Snr, picturing one of the many safe houses I had plucked from the minds of those in Azkaban.
I twist and we're gone.