…Harry was once again pacing around the room, even though he knew there was nothing he could do for now… But what was he supposed to do AT ALL now? Wait until Voldemort learned about everything and prepare to face him? But even victory in a battle with the Dark Lord would no longer solve all the problems. Even the destruction of all the Horcruxes belonging to the one who had once been Tom Riddle would not save them. And although Harry Potter was now thinking more about when Flamia would finally wake up, one way or another his thoughts kept returning to the events of THAT day and their consequences…
The newspapers were still full of headlines such as: "A Feast of Death for the Death Eaters" or "Death Eaters Taste Death in Full"… And an entire week had already passed! Such sentiments were understandable, however. Although Voldemort had not yet made much progress in seizing power, Scrimgeour could not miss the opportunity to instil confidence in the might of the Ministry. Even though it had been involved least of all… But 47 bodies of the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, with no casualties among the civilian population, was a significant success. Naturally, some people had been struck by spells, but their injuries were no worse than ordinary household accidents… Except for one girl. Flamia Nightfolk. But why would English magical society care about a foreigner of unknown origin? There was no need to worry about such trifles; the main thing was to preserve its authority… If only that same magical society knew WHO had repelled the dark wizards' attack and HOW…
Kreacher appeared in the middle of the room with a pop. A week ago—or rather, a little more than a week ago—he might not have openly grumbled about the person defiling the house with his presence, but he would at least have tried to do so. But… now he was CONCERNED about his master's condition. Harry had not eaten for three days, and even before that he had restored his strength purely mechanically, paying no attention to exactly what he was being given, although, just in case, he still checked the food for poisons, curses, and even the presence of Portkeys. Mad-Eye could only have been proud of such a student… if not for that day. And so, the house-elf looked at the acknowledged heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black and proclaimed:
"Master, I have no right to tell you what to do and am not even worthy of giving advice, but you are on the verge of exhaustion. Have you truly decided to leave your chosen one alone?"
"Did you say something, Kreacher?" Harry asked distractedly.
"Master, I would ask you to come downstairs and dine. If you are afraid to leave Miss Nightfolk even for the duration of the meal, allow me to bring your dinner here," the elf replied with such a low bow that the hair growing from his ears touched the floor.
"I would prefer the second option, Kreacher… And you don't have to bow so low…"
He spoke the final sentence to empty air, for the house-elf, changed beyond recognition, had gone to the kitchen the very moment he received his master's permission…
This change in Kreacher's behaviour was not the only astonishing transformation in the house at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The house no longer looked neglected, while the staircase and entrance hall had ceased to be areas requiring extreme caution. The heads of the elves had disappeared from the walls, the portraits of Sirius's ancestors behaved themselves, and as for his mother's portrait… as it turned out, it had remained in place only because of elven magic. Just as it was impossible to create a barrier preventing a house-elf from moving through space, it was also impossible to create a counter-spell against even the most primitive elven magic. But a true new Master had appeared in the house, and Kreacher had conscientiously removed the portrait of Walburga Black that he himself had hung there. And his reward for honest work had been respectful treatment and an entire cupboard with a bed of his own.
But those were merely external changes. The internal ones were far more significant. Firstly, Harry now quite calmly regarded this place as his home, although he still could not bring himself to enter his godfather's room. He had asked for that room to be left, for the time being, exactly as Sirius had left it. Secondly, the house was now protected against any intrusion from outside, with the exception of owls. Kreacher had sworn that not even an Animagus disguised as a postal bird would be able to pass through his barrier. And so far, that appeared to be true. And thirdly, most importantly, the house had ceased to be the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Which was hardly surprising, considering the current relationship between most of its members and the owner of this building…
While the elf was in the kitchen, Harry once again wondered whether he had done the right thing. But, in the end, he had been obliged to save his beloved! It was astonishing that essentially none of the other guests had been seriously harmed. Yes, many had Portkeys prepared, some had simply left earlier for personal reasons, and most of those present had been members of the Order or Aurors. But it was precisely this fact that forced him to question whether SUCH behaviour had been justified. One could, of course, simply say that Harry had been unable to control the situation and had only miraculously managed to become human again, but that final fact itself proved that he had been capable of controlling himself. He simply had not wanted to…
…Back then, while everyone was in confusion, Harry immediately assessed the scale of the operation Voldemort had launched. The Death Eaters were not making excessive use of the Unforgivables, although they had managed to incapacitate half of the Aurors very quickly. Moreover, this time they immediately revived any comrades who had been stunned or immobilised… One of the attackers, risking being caught in crossfire from every direction at once, first deprived Potter of his route of retreat. A simple "Accio Portkey!" was enough for the enchanted ball to fly out of the pocket of his robes and into the enemy's hand. The man did not risk using it and simply destroyed it. It immediately became clear that Potter was the objective of the operation. Harry did not passively watch what was happening and immediately threw himself into the fight. But this time, he could not allow anything to happen to Flamia. The young man fought his way towards her, scattering enemies by every method he knew, fortunately now having a more varied arsenal. But fate decided to play an extremely cruel joke on him: when only about ten metres separated him from the girl, she was struck by the red beam of a spell, while green beams came flying from every direction… Apparently, the Death Eaters had recognised her as a serious opponent. Or perhaps she was simply not covered by some prohibition issued by the Lord… The point was that his fiancée's life was in danger. Harry himself could not later explain exactly how it had happened… Perhaps, because Flamia was in genuine danger, she had finally used the special nature of her Patronus, or perhaps magic itself had simply helped him, but in the very next instant the girl's body was gently caught and surrounded by the protective coils of a gigantic serpent… Fear, incomparable even to the soul-freezing presence of Dementors, hung in the air. Those Death Eaters who had been standing farther away were fortunate enough to die painlessly, merely receiving the deadly gaze of the King of Serpents. But those who had dared attack the Basilisk's chosen one became acquainted with the monster's wrath. None of the attackers possessed anything remotely similar to the Sword of Gryffindor, and it was unlikely that any of them had ever expected to encounter such a monster in their lifetime, much less enrage it… Later, the newspapers offered the most incredible theories about exactly how the seven Death Eaters whose bodies could not even be identified had been killed… The only thing the journalists agreed upon was the choice of epithet describing the incident: a bloodbath…
It was not difficult to imagine what happened next… The moment Harry transformed back into a human—and it had not been easy, even though he was still thinking only of Flamia and could not allow the beast to take control of him—everyone who remained conscious aimed their wands at him, a sight which even caused a couple of Aurors to faint. And, incidentally, Potter noticed that one person among them was still missing… His memory immediately obligingly supplied the image: the cry of "Death Eaters!.."—a hood falling away—and the owner of greasy locks and a hooked nose disappearing with the aid of a Portkey…
However, something else was more important at that moment. Harry was holding his unconscious fiancée in his arms, while those whom he had trusted, those whom he had considered his allies in the struggle against Voldemort, had raised their weapons against him. Their reaction would have been entirely understandable if they had merely disarmed him and kept him covered, especially since it was easy to understand how much strength such a transformation must have consumed. And in any case, they could at least have helped the girl who clearly required medical attention. But… Thank Merlin, Harry immediately sensed that something was wrong, and since Apparition from the Burrow was impossible at the time, he called Kreacher for help…
Strangely enough, after visiting the site of the battle, the elf stopped resisting his current master. Perhaps it was because he was accustomed to serving dark wizards, which the Blacks essentially were, with the exception of Sirius… But the fact remained that orders were carried out with astonishing speed. Only with his help had Harry managed to hold back the Order's assault, and summoning a healer to the house at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place would otherwise have been simply impossible. Yet the elf instantly brought the finest specialist, who diagnosed a coma caused by the loss of magical strength and a couple of bruises from being struck by a Stunner. And for an entire week now, Flamia had not regained consciousness…
And for an entire week now, Harry Potter had been living the life of a hermit…
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