Chapter 26: The Aftermath
The green light pulsed above the campsite like a heartbeat, casting everything below in its eerie glow. The Dark Mark hung heavy in the sky, the skull's mouth stretched wide, the serpent slithering downwards as though it might strike the earth itself.
Harry didn't stop to think. His feet were already pounding against the dirt, tearing across the ruined camp towards the treeline.
"Harry!" Sirius and Hermione shouted behind him, their voice raw with panic. "Wait!"
But Harry didn't wait. He couldn't. The fury coursing through his veins drowned out everything else—cheers, screams, even the desperate voices calling his name. The sight of that mark—the brand of Voldemort—ignited something in him hotter than fire.
He remembered Cedric. He remembered his parents. He remembered the Muggles screaming only moments ago. And he would not let this stand. Not again.
Branches clawed at him as he plunged into the forest, light from the Mark spilling down between the trees. Every shadow twisted into shapes that whispered danger, but he pressed forward, wand clenched tight in his hand. His chest burned with every breath, but he didn't slow.
Behind him, the sounds of pursuit followed—Sirius crashing through undergrowth, Amelia Bones's commanding bark driving Aurors forward, Arthur Weasley gasping to keep up. They were trying to catch him. They wouldn't.
Harry's anger drove him faster.
He knew what was going to happen, he knew what he would find once he reached the location.
Deep in the forest, the air was colder, and the Dark Mark was now dispelled with the aurors present at the clearing he was headed to. Harry slowed, senses sharpening. He could hear shouting now.
"Which of you is responsible for this!?!?" Harry could hear Barty Sr. shouting in the darkened air. He was getting closer.
"How dare you accuse the Lady and Heir of House Malfoy of such a deed!" Narcissa wasn't as loud, but there was no mistaking the indignation.
"Do not lie to me! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"
"Mr.Crouch, I'm telling you, they didn't do this!" Harry could now see his friends through the smoke. Crouch Sr. was pointing his wand at Narcissa and Draco, no doubt believing the Death Eaters' wife and son were connected to tonight's exciting events. Fun as it is to see them put on the spot, there was no time.
"What is going on here!?!?" Harry's voice echoed across the camp, startling Crouch Sr, who whipped around and aimed his wand at Harry.
"And who are you?!"
"I'm the wizard who handed the Aurors three Death Eaters for trial, now tell me, what is going on here!?"
Barty raised an eyebrow at the mention of three Death Eaters but turned back to the group, wand pointed at Narcissa. "The Dark Mark was cast from this area. This woman is the youngest sister of the notorious Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange. As it stands she is the most likely culprit."
"But Mr.Crouch, it wasn't them! We saw someone-" Ginny was cut off by Ron. "Why are you defending the snakes, Ginny?"
Before anyone could answer, Amelia, Sirius, Kingsley, Arthur and the older weasley siblings came running up behind him, along with a pair of Aurors.
"Harry! There you are! And Barty! What's going on here!?" Arthur was glad to see everyone OK but worried seeing Barty holding them at wand point.
Before Crouch could answer, twins stepped in to settle the matter. "We've been trying to tell Crouch whoever shot the spell came from the woods behind us. We couldn't see them, but we all fired stunners. We must have hit something."
"Excellent work then. You two!" Shacklebolt pointed to the two Aurors who followed them. "Check the forest, see if you can find anything."
As they took off, Hermione and Luna rushed up to Harry, wrapping him in a Hermy-hug. Harry wrapped his arms around both, holding them close as they trembled from everything that had happened.
I won't let anyone hurt her again.
"Excellent work with the three Death Eaters, Mr.Potter. It's a shame the others got away." Now that Barty had calmed down somewhat, he was managing to be civil. But his statement caused everyone who came later after Harry to share a look.
"Barty... you misunderstand. Those three were taken in because they were alive... mostly."
That line got several looks of shock, especially from Narcissa and Draco. Before either of them could ask questions, the two Aurors returned, one of them carrying a house elf.
"That's-that's impossible! Winky couldn't have done it!" Barty rushed up to the Aurors.
"I'm sorry, Mr.Crouch, but there was no one else." The first Auror, a heavy-set man carrying Winky, looked apologetic.
"When we found her, she had a wand in her hand." The second Auror, a thin witch, handed over a familiar-looking wand.
Ron, who had been glaring at Harry holding Hermione and Luna in his arms, went wide-eyed upon seeing it. "That's my wand! I thought I dropped it in the tent!"
Theories were bandied back and forth as everyone argued how she had gotten the wand. Harry wanted to tell them how she got it, that it was Barty Jr. still hidden under an Invisibility Cloak, that had stolen the wand. Winky was innocent. But right now, he had someone more important to look out for.
"We can sort this all out later. Right now, we need to rest."
The rest of the night had been a long one. The Aurors had taken the three surviving Death Eaters into custody and spent most of the night picking up the pieces of the others. Harry and the others were brought to the DMLE to answer questions and provide statements to the Aurors.
The questions of the Aurors were rather standard, right until they realized that, among the dead and captured Death Eaters, were Lords of the Wizengamot, including Lucius Malfoy, after Harry released him from his stunned state. Then the Aurors became more... intense in their questioning. They began demanding if he knew the Death Eaters were Lords, and if he held personal grudges against them.
Harry's only saving grace was that each of the Death Eaters was confirmed, upon inspection of their wands, to have cast an Unforgivable, the Cruciatus Curse, during the riot.
It was only when the Aurors were convinced he didn't kill several Lords knowingly and intentionally, that they were free to leave. During that time, Crouch had released Winky, only with more witnesses, and Hermione was upset over his treatment of her. Upon returning to the Potter Manor, dobby and twisty immediately hounded them and sent them for rest and sleep.
When morning came, too soon in the opinion of all of them, Dobby and other house elves had already prepared a large breakfast for the household. Then the the owl post arrived. Most notable, was a letter from Ted, courtesy of Hedwig, and the Daily Prophet. As Sirius read the Daily prophet, Harry decided to see what Ted had sent him.
Harry
I hope this letter finds you well. As you had informed Madam Bones and me about what would happen at the finale, the Aurors were able to lessen the overall damage.
And I'm quite certain that the rioters captured are going to be receiving a trial and will get their pureblood horde to raise complaints and arguments against using the stone, but I believe it will be fine in the end. But, brace yourself, as the defence will likely claim that you're violent and unstable, or that you knew their identities and pursued them due to petty grudges. If Lucius is paying for the defence, you can guarantee they'll pull out all the stops.
But more importantly, no doubt they'll expect it to be routine, claiming to be Imperiused to be let off the hook. However, as per your information, I was also able to find the exact law under which we can use it. So according to wizarding law, if a witch or wizard, regardless of blood status, has been brought before the Wizengamot for crimes relating to murder, or the use of Unforgivable Curses, and claims to have been Imperiused, the Head of the DMLE can request an Unspeakable bring a DOM Truth Stone, to determine the validity of the claim.
This law has been on the books since the Unforgivables were outlawed, but it's never been used. If the Wizengamot objects, then the DMLE Head can override their objections, given the close ties to the Ministry some of them have. In any case, their being Imperiused would constitute a 'threat to the stability of the realm.'
Hopefully, this helps you.
The other thing is that Dumbledore is back now from his ICW confederation. And he will be presiding over the trial. However, even he will not be able to block the truth stone move, as that will mean he is undermining the welfare of the overall wizarding society, and as a self-acclaimed leader of light, he cannot do that. So, be prepared, things will be messy at the trial whenever it happens.
Ted Tonks
Pocketing the letter, Harry made a mental note to send this information to Madam Bones to confirm his information he had given out earlier. But first, Sirius had passed him the Daily Prophet. The front page news was interesting, containing a photo focused on him in the Top Box after the Irish won the game.
CHAOS AT THE WORLD CUP FINALS STOPPED BY HARRY POTTER
BOY WHO LIVED CAPTURES THREE DEATH EATERS
By Barnabas Cuffe
The Quidditch World Cup is meant to be a time of celebration. A time when witches and wizards from all walks of life, from Lords of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses to students, come together in a moment of camaraderie and the noble spirit of competition. Families join together with their friends, and for a few brief hours, all the worries and challenges of life are forgotten as we revel in the thrill of the noblest of sports.
That means, it takes a certain kind of cruelty and callousness to turn what should be a source of joy, and hope for the future, into a night of pain and fear. But that is exactly what twelve Death Eaters, followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, chose to do. The World Cup had been over for a few hours. The Irish had won, despite Bulgaria catching the Snitch, and the fans had celebrated. Drinks were drunk, snacks were had, and memories were created. Everything needed to make a perfect night.
So what should happen next, than twelve of the worst of our society should take advantage of these moments of vulnerability, to bring suffering and terror to others. First came the fire, as tents were ignited with families still in them. Husbands drew their wands, ready to defend their loved ones, as wives rushed to get the children to safety, as they suddenly found themselves surrounded by fire. Those closest to the carnage were treated to the terrible sight of twelve Death Eaters, casting fireballs at everything in sight.
Then, came the Unforgivables. The most evil of spells were cast as men, women, and children sought to find safety or help. The screams could be heard from the furthest edges of the camp. Smoke clouded the senses, creating a panic like nothing that has been seen in years. The World Cup was turned into a living nightmare, from which none escape.
But then, one wizard chose to make a stand.
Witnesses report seeing Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, charging towards the Death Eaters, wand in hand, a look of fierce determination upon his face. There was no doubt in their minds, he was going to face the Death Eaters, and punish them for their evil! From there, the situation becomes difficult to ascertain with certainty, as few remained to watch the battle that would soon be unfolding, for fear of being targeted by the Death Eaters, or of concern for loved ones.
What is certain, is that by the end of the riot, three of the Death Eaters were in the custody of the DMLE. You might be wondering: what happened to the other nine? Well, dear readers, we here at the Daily Prophet would like to know that too! The Aurors have been unusually tight-lipped, with none of our reporters getting close to the battlefield. Though one anonymous source claims the Aurors were being required to "clean up whatever was left." One can only imagine the battle that took place that night.
Whatever the situation, one thing is abundantly clear: the Ministry must take action! The three Death Eaters now in custody are expected to receive their trial tomorrow. The unusual haste of the situation has been attributed to the scrutiny being levelled against the Ministry on how such a thing had even occurred in the first place!
Regardless, we here at the Daily Prophet thank Harry Potter for his actions last night and wish him all the best with the coming school year.
"Well, that's certainly an interesting article. 'One wizard chose to make a stand?' Who comes up with this stuff?" Harry passed the paper back, somewhat amused by the phrasing contained.
"Well, Barnabas is a massive Quidditch fan. It's no surprise he decided to take the events of last night personally." Sirius had passed the paper to Hermione, who was reading it attentively.
"I'm surprised there's no mention of the Death Eaters being Lords. Or that the other nine are dead." Hermione set down the paper. "You'd think there'd be a bigger uproar over it."
"My guess is the DMLE is keeping quiet over that matter, to prevent the uproar in the Wizengamot. That's why the trial is happening tomorrow, which us four," Sirius pointed at Harry, Hermione, Luna, and himself, "are required to attend. We'll be called upon as witnesses and will likely need to provide memories for the trial."
Madam Amelia Bones should have been in a good mood. In fact, she should be ecstatic! A Death Eater riot at the World Cup had been stopped in its tracks! Nine of the twelve Death Eaters were now dead, while the remaining three were in DMLE custody.
Instead, she was in a mood that could only be described as murderous. After being brought to their holding cells, the Aurors had gotten the identities of the Death Eaters, both dead and alive, and it had caused quite a stir. Lucius Malfoy, Walden Macnair, and Corban Yaxley! A Lord of the Wizengamot, an executioner, and a DMLE employee! That last one made her sick to her stomach, though, fortunately, he was part of the Improper Use of Magic Office, not an Auror. Merlin knows what kind of damage he could do in that position.
In any event, when Fudge got wind that his biggest ally had been imprisoned, he'd arrived in her office in a huff, demanding an explanation and ordering his release. He'd backed down when she revealed his friends had been confirmed to have cast Unforgivables during the riot. Of course, then he had begun waxing about how it had to have been a mistake, that they must have been victims of the Imperius Curse.
As much as Amelia hated to admit it, there was little she could do if that was their defence before. But now, the information that Heir Potter has shared with them earlier in the summer will be very helpful in this case. Lucius had already claimed innocence via Imperius, and given that the DMLE couldn't force a pureblood to take Veritaserum, there would be lots of fun in the coming trial.
As she was attempting to calm down and focus, Tibia popped in with a letter, sealed with a familiar symbol. 'So, what does Heir Potter have for me today, I wonder?' Opening the letter, it was the confirmation she technically didn't need, but it was good to have.
Madam Amelia Bones
Firstly, I can imagine the situation we could have found ourselves in. The three Death Eaters who have been caught, each of them is a purebloods. They can legally refuse Veritaserum, the very thing that will confirm their guilt, and because of the very laws you are sworn to uphold, there is little you can do. Fortunately, there is something we can do, as I had informed you and Ted Tonks earlier in the summer.
Each of the Death Eaters has been confirmed to have cast an Unforgivable during the riots. Given the punishment, their only hope is to use the Imperius defence and claim they were forced to cast the spells. While they can refuse Veritaserum, as Head of the DMLE, you can request the DOM provide a Truth Stone for use in their interrogation. Normally, the Wizengamot would vote on this matter, but as these three in particular can constitute a 'threat to the stability of the realm' if they were Imperiused, you can override them and interrogate them immediately.
Best of all? Their blood status has no impact. They cannot refuse to be questioned in such a manner. This law has been in place since the Unforgivables were outlawed. Ted Tonks has confirmed it, and you are good to go with this.
Secondly, I think it is time for us to meet again and plan the next steps for the coming school year. Since the Triwizard Tournament is starting again, we have lots to plan and work on. After the trials are concluded, I will again send a letter through goblins or gringots to you for a scheduled meeting.
I look forward to it.
Heir Potter
Amelia had to prepare, and the first thing she had to do was to speak with Saul Croaker. She was owed a few favours, and this was the time to call them in. 'Tomorrow can't come soon enough.'
Chapter 27: A Different Perspective and The Trial
Albus Dumbledore had returned to the British Isles after his long stay outside of it because of ICW business and the Triwizard Tournament. As he sat at the Head Table in the Hogwarts Great Hall, stroking his beard slowly as his half-moon spectacles glittered in the morning light. To anyone watching, he looked serene, a kindly old wizard enjoying a quiet breakfast before the start of the school year. In reality, however, his thoughts were anything but calm.
Harry James Potter was slipping from his control.
It had begun earlier in the summer, when the boy had done something utterly unexpected—he had left the Dursleys. That had been the first sign of danger. Ten years of careful conditioning had been undone in a single reckless act. Dumbledore had placed him there precisely so that neglect and coldness would break down his spirit, so that the wizarding world—and by extension, Dumbledore himself—would appear as salvation. Harry was supposed to crave escape, not seize it of his own accord.
But that was only the beginning.
The matter of Sirius Black still galled him. Sirius's imprisonment had served a dual purpose: a warning to other would-be rebels, and the removal of a dangerously loyal figure in Harry's life. Sirius had the sort of devotion that could drag the boy out of Dumbledore's shadow. And yet, Harry had somehow managed to unravel twelve years of Ministry propaganda and have Sirius cleared. Worse, Amelia Bones, that meddlesome woman, had herself led the motion to get Sirius's name cleared with Ted Tonks. Now, Sirius was not only free but openly connected to Harry. The boy had a guardian who loved him and one who would fight tooth and nail to protect him. That was dangerous. Very dangerous.
And then there was the matter of the heir rings. The moment Harry slipped the Potter ring onto his hand, Dumbledore had nearly ground his teeth to dust. The ring was not merely a symbol, but a seal of authority—it gave Harry political power, wealth, and independence. Combined with Sirius and the Black seat, the boy was now sitting at the head of two of the most powerful houses in wizarding Britain. That was never supposed to happen. The plan had always been simple: Molly's daughter would eventually snare the boy, Molly herself would guide his domestic life, and Ron would ensure Harry remained complacent, distracted, and mediocre. With access to the Potter and Black money firmly in Weasley's hands, Dumbledore could consolidate his hold on knowledge and influence alike by taking up their libraries.
But Harry had chosen differently. Repeatedly.
Now, this latest disaster at the Quidditch World Cup. The riots had been expected—encouraged, even. Chaos was fertile soil for fear, and fear made the public pliable. The Dark Mark, cast into the night sky, should have sent shockwaves of dread across Britain. Yet somehow, impossibly, Harry had run towards the danger. Instead of cowering, instead of stumbling, instead of relying on others—he had acted, and acted decisively.
The Daily Prophet headlines made Dumbledore's stomach twist: The Boy Who Lived Saves Family from Death Eaters. Three Captured Alive by Potter.
A pawn was not meant to seize the board.
Harry had not hesitated to duel grown Death Eaters. He had shielded innocents. He had, by all accounts, fought with such ferocity that the rioters had been forced to retreat. That was not the picture of the meek, pliable child Dumbledore had spent a decade shaping. That was a commander being forged in fire—and it terrified him.
No, this would not do. This would not do at all.
If Harry continued on this path—surrounded by Sirius, guided by Hermione's sharp mind, influenced by Amelia Bones, and emboldened by power and responsibility—he would no longer be the boy Dumbledore could sacrifice. He would become a player in his own right. And that could not be permitted.
The Triwizard Tournament had been intended as a crucible, a way to test, bind, and steer the boy further under his thumb. But now, with Harry already proving himself outside Dumbledore's designs, the Tournament might become less a test and more an opportunity for rebellion. The thought made Dumbledore's knuckles tighten around his goblet.
He had to act. Quickly. He would need to remind Harry of his "place," to gently but firmly pull him back into the role of obedient weapon. Ginny would need to be pushed forward sooner, Ron kept closer, and Molly encouraged to smother. Sirius—ah, Sirius—he would need to be undermined, subtly discredited, if possible discarded.
Because if he failed, Harry would not be a pawn. He would be a rival.
And Albus Dumbledore had no intention of sharing the board.
He left soon after for the ministry, where today's trial was scheduled to take place, it was going to be a long day.
"Order in the courtroom!" Albus Dumbledore's voice carried across the room with the authority only Chief Warlock was capable of. "Seal the doors!" A spider web of magical chains crisscrossed the large doors to the courtroom. "Bring in the Accused!"
Three figures were brought in. Only one was walking on their own. The other two were being levitated in by the Aurors, magically carried to their seats. Internally, sitting on the witness bench, next to Lune, Sirius and Hermione, Harry was feeling tremendously satisfied. These three, Lucius Malfoy, Walden Macnair, and Corban Yaxley, were Death Eaters responsible for an inhuman amount of suffering.
Lucius had been Voldemort's right-hand man, until his capture in the Department of Mysteries. Walden had convinced the giants to side with Voldemort, nearly killing Hagrid and Maxime in the progress. And then there was Yaxley, who had been head of the DMLE, and thus the Muggle-born Registration Commission. These three disgusting excuses for men would be responsible for the torture and murder of men, women, and children when Voldemort was on the loose, thanks to that corrupt moron Fudge.
Not this time. This time, they would be the ones to suffer and die. Lucius would not be funding the Death Eaters, Macnair would be the executed, rather than the executioner. And Yaxley? Yaxley would die in fear, helpless and abandoned, the very fear he subjected children to with glee. If Harry had any regrets, it was that he couldn't execute the lot of them himself. It would be a punishment long overdue.
"On this day, August the twentieth, of the year nineteen ninety-four, so begins the Criminal Trials of the Accused: Lucius Malfoy, Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy. Corban Yaxley, Head of the Minor House of Yaxley. Walden Macnair, Head of the Minor House of Macnair. Representatives for the Wizengamot: Chief Prosecutor Madam Amelia Bones..." Albus listed off the names of those overseeing the trial. Harry wasn't listening though, because he was very much aware he was being watched.
The entire Wizengamot had been assembled for this trial, while the observation stands were packed to the bloody brim. In several seats of the Wizengamot, were women that had never been there before, including Narcissa Malfoy. She, and the other wives of now-dead Death Eaters, would be voting on the fate of those before them. Meanwhile, in the observation stands, he could see a handful of familiar faces, including Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Greggory Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. All of them, minus Draco, had lost their fathers to Harry, and they were staring down at him.
"How do the Accused plead?" Dumbledore's question had brought back Harry's attention. When the three chose to plead 'not guilty' he was forced to suppress a smirk. "On what grounds are you not guilty?" They responded with the Imperius defence, and Harry wanted to shout 'Gotcha!' Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the unmistakable robes of an Unspeakable.
"Very well. Madam Bones, you may proceed."
"Before we proceed, as Head of the DMLE, I must ask Lord Lucius Malfoy to reiterate, does he claim innocence via the Imperius Curse?" In the affirmative, she offered no reaction, but Harry swore he saw a smile beginning to form. "Then, as Head of the DMLE, I call for the Department of Mysteries to provide a Truth Stone before we begin questioning the accused."
That got people murmuring. A brief look of panic flitted across the faces of the three, until their defence lawyer, one Edward Selwyn, spoke out. "Chief Warlock, I must object. Madam Bones cannot simply call for a Truth Stone during a trial."
"On the contrary, Mr.Selwyn, I can. Lord Lucius Malfoy is a known associate of Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge. Walden Macnair and Corban Yaxley both work for the Ministry and thus have potential access to records and information contained within. Given these circumstances, their being Imperiused constitutes a threat to the stability of the realm, and thus, I invoke my authority under Article 5, subsection 3, of the Act Concerning the Unforgivables of 1717. As such, a Truth Stone shall be present during the questioning."
Now the murmurs got loud enough to qualify as shouts, with people alternating between demands that this be stopped, and demands on why this wasn't done sooner. Before the situation could get any worse, Dumbledore fired several loud fireworks from the Elder Wand, with a call for "ORDER IN THE COURT!"
Meanwhile, Minister Fudge was discussing the situation with the toad and someone he didn't recognize. In any event, when Fudge turned back, he seemed confused but otherwise unconcerned. "The law is clear on the matter. Madam Bones is within her rights to do so. We must bring in a Truth Stone."
The Unspeakable that had been sitting on the sidelines, completely unmoving before now, stood and walked over to the accused. From his robes, he produced a stone tablet, one etched with runes that he had never seen before. From there, he simply dropped it in Malfoy's lap and stood to the side. After a moment, when Malfoy went from slight panic to serenely calm, he turned to Madam Bones and stated in the robotic voice of an Unspeakable, "He is ready, prosecutor."
"Thank you, sir. Now, Lord Malfoy, two days ago, on the 18th of August, you and eleven other wizards donned the robes of a Death Eater and started a riot at the Quidditch World Cup. Were you, as you claim, under the influence of the Imperius Curse?"
"No, I was not." The viewing gallery all but erupted into an incomprehensible mess. Again, Dumbledore was forced to silence the courtroom.
"Were any of your fellows under the influence of the Imperius Curse during the riot?"
"Of course not, they all went along with it willingly." Again, the courtroom became a mass of angry shouts and shrieks. After silencing them again, Dumbledore declared that any further interruptions from the viewing gallery would result in forced removal from the courtroom.
"What do you mean 'they' went along with it willingly?"
"It was my idea of course. It seemed a delightful form of entertainment after the World Cup." This time, no one spoke out of turn.
"If it was your idea, why did you claim to be Imperiused?"
"Because it had worked before. I had no reason to doubt it would secure my freedom again."
"You've used it before?" Amelia Bones was struggling not to grin. She and everyone else knew what this meant. Clearly, Selwyn did too, as he attempted to object, but Lucius kept going.
"When I was first arrested for my service to Lord Voldemort-" people shrieked and shuddered at the name. Rather than throw anyone out, Dumbledore just shook his head, as though he was tired of everything. "-I claimed to have been Imperiused into receiving the Dark Mark. It was a lie, of course. I served him willingly."
"Minister Fudge, I must protest this line of questioning! It has no bearing on the event we are discussing!" Selwyn attempted to stop this, but Minister Fudge wasn't listening. In fact, he looked rather shocked by this revelation.
"How did you receive the Dark Mark then?" Madam Bones was in command now, and given the way everyone was looking and listening, it seemed no one but Selwyn was keen on stopping her.
What followed was a half-hour of questioning by Madam Bones, and it revealed a disturbing number of crimes committed by Lucius and his ilk. As he admitted, the Dark Mark could only be given to one who was willing, and Lucius had been quite willing. When asked how he got the Mark, he described in vivid detail how he had used the Imperius Curse on a Muggle man, forcing him to strangle his pregnant wife, before casting a Killing Curse on him.
It didn't stop there. A macabre fascination had overtaken the entire court proceedings, with Lucius revealing the atrocities he and his fellows had committed during the first war. Lucius admitted to killing at least 50 Muggles, usually after torturing them to the brink of insanity or forcing them to murder loved ones. Lord Goyle was fond of using the Cruciatus Curse on children, forcing their parents to watch as they went through hell on Earth. Lord Crabbe liked boys, and he liked them young. Lord Parkinson, on the other hand, favoured girls. The Carrow twins would take turns tormenting their victims till they were begging for death. Macnair had only used the Killing Curse once, believing it was too quick. He much preferred bleeding his victims dry. Yaxley was a sadist who delighted in murdering children in the most violent way possible, then leaving their parents gibbering lunatics.
Every manner of evil wrought by the Death Eaters was admitted to in thirty minutes of horror. When she was finally finished, the Truth Stone was given first to Macnair and then to Yaxley. Their questioning barely lasted two minutes, with Madam Bones only asking if everything Lucius had said was true. It was. When she was finally finished, she simply turned to Dumbledore and stated, "No more questions, Chief Warlock."
Nobody moved. Nobody dared to even breathe. After everything that had just been revealed, it was practically a guarantee these three would be getting, if not life sentences, then the death penalty.
Selwyn, no doubt sensing the same thing, decided to try to, if not salvage the situation, at least guarantee that someone else would be joining his clients. "I-I call upon Harry Potter for questioning!"
Even Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at that, no doubt wondering what exactly he was hoping to achieve with this. Nevertheless, he allowed it, and Harry stood to answer the man's questions.
"Heir Potter, describe to us the events of the night in question."
"Well, it was after the World Cup. We were all relaxing in the tent, Sirius, Hermione, Luna, and I. I'm afraid I wasn't fully paying attention. Anyways..." and so Harry described the night in question. How he heard the scream tearing through the tents, and when he went out to see what the issue was, he saw how Death Eaters were spreading chaos and torturing Muggles. And then he had run towards them to save the Muggle campsite worker family, and how he had faced the Death Eaters. "... and after that, the Aurors arrived to take them into custody."
"And yet, you only captured three of them! The other nine are now dead! Lords of the Wizengamot, dead at your hands!"
"I did not know their rank, only that they were threatening muggles, and after that, my friends and I. If you doubt my words, Mr.Selwyn, I'll be happy to provide my memories of the event."
"An excellent suggestion, Mr.Potter. We shall take a ten-minute recess to set up the Pensieve, and prepare it for viewing the memories of the riot." That Dumbledore of all people was coming out in support of him stunned Harry.
During those ten minutes, the whole court was filled with whispers. The viewing gallery came to life as people bandied theories back and forth, wondering exactly how he had managed to kill nine Death Eaters and capture the remaining three. While they were all gossiping, Harry took a look at the three men on trial. It was then he got a good look at the damage he was capable of.
Corban Yaxley wasn't able to move on his own, as most of his skeleton had been reduced to dust by his Bombarda, and being slammed into the ground. His entire body was still wrapped in a cast, the best the healers could do on short notice. It wasn't enough to keep him comfortable, but it was enough for him to live. Macnair, while he still had his arms, was still missing his legs. Normally, magic could be used to re-attach a severed limb, so long as it wasn't too damaged in the process. But his spell had not only severed his legs at the knees, but it also seared the wound shut, preventing any efforts at re-attachment from succeeding.
Lucius was the only one looking healthy, despite the fact he was shivering. Whether this was out of fear, or a side effect of the stunner, he didn't know.
Beyond that, only one other thing caught Harry's attention: Minister Fudge. During those ten minutes, he seemed to alternate between panic, determination, and contemplation. It was a rather unusual thing, to see the bumbling fool looking like a serious politician. Which only raised more questions.
When the pensive was finally set up, Harry, along with Hermione, Luna, and Sirius, were able to provide their memories of the riots. It was a harrowing tale, to see them placing themselves between an innocent family and the Death Eaters. The Wizengamot applauded them for their courage, and several viewers cheered at the Bombarda reducing 3 death eaters to a pulp. What came next can only be described as complete and total awe at Harry. Him seizing control of the Fight, striking down the other Death Eaters without mercy, and finally stunning Lucius.
By the end of it all, the entire Wizengamot was staring at Harry. He could see the looks of fear and awe as he took in the entire room. He noticed, with some satisfaction, that it was fear in Dumbledore's eyes. Selwyn, likewise, looked at Harry with unmitigated fear and sat down, offering no rebuttal, nor further questions.
From there, it was a sure thing. With everything Lucius had revealed, the Wizengamot was given the choice of life imprisonment, or death. They chose death, by the Dementor's Kiss. A fitting end for such vile wretches.
As Dumbledore was about to adjourn the court when Fudge requested the floor. Dumbledore agreed, and Fudge stood to make himself heard.
"Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. Today we have all borne witness to a tragic event. Three esteemed members of our society were revealed to have been in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while we pitied them as his victims. We have witnessed 2 wizards and 2 witches put their lives on the line to protect an innocent family, one they didn't even know. And we all watched the memory of Harry Potter facing twelve Death Eaters, without any concern for his own safety. All these actions are the actions of heroes, the very best of wizarding society. As such, for their courage in the face of extreme danger, the Ministry has decided to award Lord Sirius Black, Miss Hermione Granger, and Luna Lovegood the Order of Merlin, Second Class. And to Harry Potter, for defeating the twelve Death Eaters and saving the lives of those attending the World Cup, the Ministry shall award the Order of Merlin, First Class."
Fudge finished this declaration with as much authority as he could muster, especially with everything that had just happened. There was a moment of silence, broken by thunderous applause, rising like a storm. Harry, for his part, looked stunned while Hermione and Luna blushed with embarrassment. And Sirius didn't know how to respond or what to say."
Chapter 28: After the VerdictNotes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextAmelia Bones moved through the Ministry corridors with her head held high, the echoes of the Wizengamot's verdict still ringing in her ears. Justice, true and uncompromising, had finally been delivered. After years of frustration and political obstacles, the Death Eaters—Lucius Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Corban Yaxley—had received the Dementor's Kiss. She didn't even know that Corban Yaxley was a Death Eater, but it was a relief that he was receiving Dementor's kiss. The haunted faces of lost victims and mourning families lingered on her mind, but tonight, justice had spoken on their behalf. Amelia allowed herself a moment's solace, knowing that at last, the guilty would do no more harm.
Yet, even with these victories, her mind remained restless. There was another objective looming: the so-called planning for the rest of the year, where Harry Potter again would be at the center of the whole play. It was this thought that was worrying her.
While she was offering a quiet word to a colleague by the bullpen area, a young voice spoke from the lift behind her.
"Good evening, Madam Bones. I trust that justice feels lighter, now."
She turned, recognizing Harry Potter's familiar features—he looked both weary and steadied, as though some personal weight had lifted. With him, Sirius, looking rougishly as usual, with a smirk planted on his face.
She met his eye seriously and nodded. "It does, Mr. Potter. And I must say, your actions these past days—subduing so many of those dark wizards—were no small feat, even for a skilled Auror."
Harry gave a humble nod. "Only did what had to be done, ma'am. Thank you."
Amelia studied him for one thoughtful heartbeat—more convinced than ever that there was more to Harry Potter's role in these events than met the eye. But for now, justice was done, and that was enough.
"I thought instead of sending a letter, I could tell you what I wanted to Madam Bones. I wanted to request your presence in Potter Manor for further planning regarding what I have already shared about the coming issues. And it would be better if we plan like we did for this one," said Harry.
"So, please come tomorrow evening for this meeting, it will be long, but I have a rough outline of a plan, which, if we follow, will help us take out both Voldemort and Dumbledore."
Amelia again started to think, she knew what's gonna come, and as much as she wanted to say to young Harry, that he can relax and let the adults handle the situation, she knew, it wouldn't work with Harry. He has already lived it once and it would be best to take all the precautions they can.
"I accept Heir Potter, I will be there."
Harry and Sirius nodded. Amelia nodded back.
And then they left. They had already sent Hermione and Luna back using elves but they wanted to get home too.
While much of the wizarding world was swept up in either celebration at the court's verdict or mourning friends and family, Albus Dumbledore removed himself from the noise as quickly as he was able. The moment the Wizengamot adjourned, he returned to Hogwarts—his robes trailing quietly over the ancient flagstones as he climbed the many stairs to his office.
Alone in the gentle hush of his study, Dumbledore slumped wearily into his armchair, the usually twinkling eyes dark with thought. Today's events in the courtroom had left him deeply unsettled.
He replayed the proceedings in his mind: Madam Bones, had exercised her DMLE authority quicker than even he could stop her or counter her. The interrogations and revelations had tumbled out with relentless speed—pieces on the chessboard moving outside his control.
But above all, Harry. That was the true surprise.
Dumbledore's mind lingered uneasily on what he'd witnessed: Harry, no longer the uncertain boy he remembered, but someone cloaked in tremendous magical certainty—wielding advanced, powerful magic and knowledge Dumbledore hadn't expected him to grasp for years, if ever. The memory of Harry commanding the fight, making it look more like a school brawl instead of a terror attack, replayed in his thoughts. He hadn't moved—and yet the power was overwhelming, creative, and unsettling.
This was more than growth. It was transformation. No explanation Dumbledore tried quite satisfied him—until a deeper, longer-buried truth flickered across his mind.
The Dragon is breaking free, and the old bindings are weakening.
He had always worried about Harry's extraordinary magical core, and what ancient magics might stir awake within it. If the Animagus guardian was nudging Harry down new paths, granting him resistance to charms and potions, awakening dormant power, then perhaps it was guiding him consciously: in dreams, in visions, in flashes of talent Dumbledore could barely chart.
And now, with the evidence that the magical protections—the bindings—were unraveling, the risk was growing. After what happened last time, he doubted gornuk or anyone else from Gringotts would help him reseal such forces. If the rest of those safeguards were failing, Harry might soon possess power to end Voldemort in an instant, leaving Dumbledore irrelevant, a footnote in history.
No, he resolved, that couldn't be allowed. Dumbledore's place was to prepare, to steer, not to be swept aside by an unpredictable force of nature.
He straightened, a familiar, steely determination settling into his bones as he turned over plans for the coming school year. Between Harry's growing abilities and the looming Triwizard Tournament, the months ahead promised both challenge and danger.
Thank Merlin for Alastor. At least Defence is in good hands for once, he thought, a wry half-smile emerging despite his mood.
But beneath the surface, Dumbledore knew: the balance was shifting. And for the first time in decades, he wasn't sure which way the scales would tip.
Chapter 29Notes:Please follow the link to read ahead - https://www.instagram.com/bibliophile1722/
Chapter Text\The summer light was different at Potter Manor. It wasn't like the pale, filtered brightness of Privet Drive, where curtains were always drawn tight, or like the shifting gloom of Hogwarts, where torchlight ruled the halls. Here, sunlight poured through tall mullioned windows without restraint, spilling across polished floors and walls lined with portraits.
The house itself was ancient but not forgotten. Though it had been empty for years, the manor carried a quiet dignity, like a dragon at rest. Every corridor held echoes—some of laughter, some of argument, some of silence. House-elves had kept it clean even in absence, though Harry rarely saw them unless he called. They were different from Dobby: quiet, loyal to the Potter line, bonded through old bond and magic. They never spoke unless spoken to, but he could feel their eyes sometimes, following him with cautious hope, caring for him and his now family.
Harry sat in the smaller oak-paneled parlor, one of the countless rooms he was still mapping in his head. The room smelled faintly of leather, parchment, and the passage of time. Shelves reached up to the ceiling, sagging under the weight of grimoires and journals so old the lettering had worn to shadows. A velvet tapestry opposite the fireplace displayed the Potter crest: a flying dragon, crowned in black thread.
It anchored him. A reminder. To himself, to his family. In a way, becoming an animagus also connected him to his father in a way. His family's mark. With him now.
The armchair beneath him creaked as Harry shifted, elbows on knees, green eyes tracking the threads of the crest again and again. His thoughts ran restless circles.
So much had happened in such a short span. Sirius was free, cleared at last, not just the shadow of a godfather but a man who could laugh, who could argue, who could sit at the same table and tell him stories about James and Lily. Hermione and Luna were with him in ways no one else could be—two anchors, two voices that refused to let him falter.
He had allies, a home, even a glimpse of a family.
It should have been enough.
Harry snorted softly, rubbing at his temple. He remembered being eleven, desperate just to belong. Twelve, willing to risk everything to protect one friend. Thirteen, clinging to the idea of Sirius with both hands, being 14 and seeing Cedric's death and Voldemort's resurrection, being 15 and seeing Sirius die. Being 16, when he also saw Voldemort's past, got to know about his secret and Dumbledore's death. Although now he knew it was also a ploy to get Snape more up into Riddle's inner circle. And then being 17, running away through forests, from death eaters, survivning on bare minimum, trying to find clues on how to find those horcruxes, Ron's betrayal, again, then finding out that he himself was a horcrux. He didn't realise then but he really was raised to be a pig for slaughter. He had walked willingly so that others can kill Voldemort, but he had returned, and now he was fourteen again and had everything his younger self would have begged for—safety, loyalty, belonging.
And yet it wasn't enough. It never would be.
Because Voldemort was still out there. Rising. The victories so far—setting things right with Sirius, turning the tide against the Death Eaters in subtle ways—were only opening moves. Harry knew how quickly the flow of the air shifts. He knew how easily it could all collapse.
He hadn't come back just to savor quiet. He had come back to change the ending.
But knowledge by itself meant nothing. It had to be forged into action, tested in fire. He wasn't a strategist watching a board from the sidelines; he was on it, a piece moving against the Dark Lord. He needed more rigorous training to utilize his gained knowledge. He needed more allies. He needed a resolve that would not crack. He knew the potential alliance with the families of all the factions would be the best move possible, but he also didn't want to put them in danger yet.
The manor seemed to hum in agreement. The wards gave a faint pulse, brushing his skin like a heartbeat. Sometimes Harry wondered if the house knew—if it recognized him, not just by blood but by intent.
"Bloody hell," he muttered. His voice was too loud in the quiet room.
His gaze slid to the shelves. He hadn't even touched half of what was there. Tomes on ancient runes, journals of Potters who had fought goblins, treaties signed in blood. One volume in particular—his great-grandfather's diary—was stuffed with notes on ward-craft so dense it might take him years to untangle.
Hermione had insisted they catalogue the library together, Luna had suggested simply listening to the books to hear which one wanted to be read. Harry wasn't sure which method would be faster, but either way, the resources here were more than he could ever have hoped for.
Still, the books couldn't fight his battles for him.
Harry pushed himself out of the chair and crossed to the window. From this room, he could see the back gardens stretching toward the treeline. Beyond, rolling fields sloped into the horizon, alive with bees and drifting clouds. It was peaceful in a way he'd never known. Too peaceful.
The last time he'd had quiet like this had been at Hogwarts, in the moments before chaos broke through.
He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the cool glass. "Dad, Mum…" he whispered, barely audible. He wasn't even sure why he spoke—habit, maybe, or the childish hope that some part of them could hear. "I'm trying. I really am."
The glass gave no answer, but his reflection—messy hair, tired eyes—stared back at him. For a moment, he hated the weight in that reflection. The scar wasn't there, but the mental scar was still present. The history he hadn't asked for. The future he couldn't walk away from.
With a sharp breath, Harry pushed back from the window and returned to the armchair. If he sat long enough, he knew what would happen: Sirius would wander in, toss him a grin, maybe drag him into a story. Hermione would appear with parchment and an agenda. Luna might drift through, humming something that made no sense to anyone but her.
And maybe that was why Potter Manor felt alive again. It wasn't the wards or the elves or the crest on the tapestry. It was because, for the first time since Voldemort's shadow fell across his life, Harry wasn't alone.
Still… choices pressed down on him, heavy as chains.
The door creaked open before Harry could fall too deep into his thoughts. A familiar drawl floated into the parlor:
"Merlin's beard, pup, are you brooding again? I swear, if I have to walk in on you glowering at that tapestry one more time, I'll set the damn thing on fire."
Harry turned, caught between irritation and relief. Sirius leaned casually against the doorframe, hair a bit longer than Azkaban had left it, black robes worn but fitting better these days. There was still a gauntness to his face, shadows under the eyes that no amount of sunlight could erase. But he looked alive, and that was a victory Harry refused to take for granted.
"I wasn't brooding," Harry said, voice clipped.
Sirius raised an eyebrow and strolled in anyway, hands tucked into pockets. "Of course you weren't. You were… contemplating life's mysteries. Like why your old godfather keeps finding grey hairs or why butterbeer never tastes quite as good outside Hogsmeade." He flopped into the armchair opposite Harry and stretched his legs with exaggerated ease. "Go on, then. Tell me what's chewing at you this time."
Harry hesitated. Sirius always cut to the core too fast. But maybe that was better than silence.
"I was thinking about choices," Harry said at last.
Sirius tilted his head, the teasing easing into something sharper. "Ah. Choices. Dangerous word for a fourteen-year-old."
"I am not fourteen, and you know that," Harry asked. "right?."
Sirius studied him for a long moment. "No. You are not. But that wouldn't stop me from pranking you and making your life lively."
That moved something inside him. "Well do not let me stop you. Probably, you might not be able to retaliate after I'm done pranking you once you are done with your prank."
"Maybe not," Sirius allowed. "But don't let the world steal it from you completely, Harry. There's more to life than the war, even if it doesn't seem like it right now."
Harry bit back the instinct to argue. "And what if the war doesn't wait? What if I don't prepare and people die because of it?"
Sirius sighed, leaning forward. "You sound like James when he thought no one else could handle things but him. And like Lily when she couldn't stand watching anyone suffer without stepping in." A faint smile flickered. "You've got both of them in you. But you've also got to remember that neither of them fought alone."
That lodged in Harry's chest like a stone. He stared at his hands. "I know. I just… every step I take, it feels like the wrong one could ruin everything."
"Welcome to adulthood," Sirius muttered, but not unkindly. He leaned back again, watching Harry with a kind of restless energy. "You're carrying too much, pup. And I know, I know—you've seen things no one your age should've. You've had to make choices no kid should. But don't make the mistake of thinking it's all on you."
Harry looked up, meeting Sirius's gaze. "Isn't it, though? I'm the one with the prophecy hanging on his shoulder."
"Prophecies are words," Sirius cut in sharply. "And words are only chains if you let them bind you. You're not a weapon, Harry. You're not destiny's pawn. You're you. And you get to decide how much of yourself you give to this fight."
Harry opened his mouth to argue again, then shut it. Because Sirius's voice had cracked on the word pawn.
He realized, suddenly, that Sirius wasn't just lecturing him. He was speaking from experience.
"You mean… like how Dumbledore treated you?" Harry asked quietly.
Sirius stilled. For a moment, his jaw tightened, eyes flashing with something raw. Then he exhaled, slow, like smoke leaving his lungs. "Yeah. Exactly like that."
The silence stretched, heavy but not hostile. Harry let it sit.
Finally, Sirius broke it with a humorless chuckle. "Funny, isn't it? I spent years in Azkaban thinking about all the choices I didn't have. And now I'm free, and all I want is for you not to repeat my mistakes. Don't lock yourself into chains before anyone else can."
Harry leaned back, the weight in his chest shifting. "But if I don't fight—if I don't choose to be ready—then Voldemort wins. And if he wins, none of this matters. Not the manor. Not family. Not anything."
"That's true," Sirius admitted. "But here's the thing, Harry—you're not fighting him tomorrow. You're not dueling him tonight. You've got time. Use it. Train smart. Live a little while you can. Otherwise, when the moment comes, you'll be nothing but exhaustion in human form."
Harry gave a thin smile. "That sounds like something Lupin would say."
"Yeah, well, Moony's rubbed off on me," Sirius said with a shrug. "Don't tell him. He'll get smug about it."
That earned a genuine laugh from Harry, quick and sharp. For a moment, the parlor felt warmer.
Sirius's expression softened. "That's better. You look too much like James when you frown."
Harry sobered, but not unhappily. "And when I laugh?"
Sirius's eyes glistened, though he masked it with a grin. "Like Lily. Merlin help me, I see her every time. And it's bloody unfair, you know? Seeing them both in you, but not them here. Makes me want to break something."
Harry swallowed. His throat was tight. "You've got me."
The words slipped out before he could think.
For a moment, Sirius just stared at him. Then he leaned forward and ruffled Harry's hair with a hand that shook only slightly. "Yeah. I do. And I'm not letting go this time."
They sat like that, quiet, the air thick with everything unsaid.
Then Sirius leaned back again, smirk creeping in. "So. Choices, eh? Tell me, what's the big terrifying decision that's got you staring holes into a tapestry?"
Harry hesitated. He thought of Hermione, of Luna, of the secret training plans forming in his mind, of the prophecy he hadn't yet told Sirius in full. Of the looming war. Of the simple fact that he wanted to live, to love, to laugh—but knew the cost.
"…Everything," Harry said finally.
Sirius barked a laugh. "Well, can't fault you for ambition. Start smaller, pup. How about we continue with the meeting first when others come and then dinner? The elves keep insisting on stew, and I think they're trying to kill me with vegetables."
Harry laughed again, shaking his head. But deep down, he knew the conversation wasn't over. It never would be.
Chapter 30: Chapter 30: DisclosureNotes:Hey, if you liked my work, follow the link to read ahead - https://www.instagram.com/bibliophile1722/
Chapter TextThe floo flared emerald green in the drawing room of Potter Manor, and the first to step through was Ted Tonks, brushing a thin layer of soot off his sleeves. His wife Andromeda followed, elegant as ever, her dark hair tied back neatly. And last came Nymphadora Tonks, still grinning despite tripping slightly as she stepped onto the rug.
"Bloody floo," she muttered, straightening herself.
Dobby appeared instantly with a snap of his fingers, bowing low. "Welcome, honored guests! Master Harry has prepared the meeting room for you. This way, please!"
He led them down the hall, Tonks whispering something to her parents that made Ted chuckle under his breath.
The room was prepared exactly as Harry had planned. A polished wooden table dominated the far end, surrounded by chairs, but the front of the room was more casual — two sofas, a few armchairs, small tables with pitchers of pumpkin juice and butterbeer, and plates of finger food.
Ted gave a nod of approval. "Not bad for a fourteen-year-old hosting strategy meetings."
Andromeda only hummed, eyes sharp as she scanned the room. She always carried herself like someone who noticed details others missed.
Tonks, though, flopped onto one of the sofas, grabbed a butterbeer, and leaned back. "Not bad at all. Merlin, I could get used to this."
The floo roared again. Out stepped Sirius, looking entirely too smug, followed closely by Hermione and Luna. Sirius dusted his robes, gave Dobby a conspiratorial wink, and collapsed into an armchair like he owned the place. Hermione and Luna took a spot near Tonks, both smiling but clearly curious about what was to come.
Harry entered as well, then, welcoming everyone to the meeting, checking to see if everyone who was needed was there, and saw that only one was missing. Amelia Bones.
So while they waited, Harry drifted toward the sofa where Tonks was with Hermione and Luna.
"You finally made it," he said.
Tonks smirked. "What, worried I'd get lost?"
"More that you'd fall flat on your face on arrival."
"Oi!" She playfully shoved his shoulder. "That only happens when I'm rushing. Or thinking. Or existing."
Luna tilted her head. "You fall so often because you're not grounded enough. Like a kite with no string."
Tonks blinked, then laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Hermione, sitting cross-legged, chimed in. "Well, at least you landed on your feet this time. Progress."
For a few minutes, the four of them spoke not as soldiers or strategists, but just as classmates. Tonks teasing Harry about his "lord of the manor" act, Hermione fussing over whether she had written enough on her homework, and Luna drifting into a quiet discussion about whether Thestrals preferred moonlight to starlight.
Sirius, watching them from his chair, smirked but didn't interrupt. He knew better than to ruin moments like this for Harry.
Then the floo lit once more.
Amelia Bones stepped through, tall and imposing, her monocle catching the light. She carried the air of someone who had just left her office with a stack of problems and wasn't expecting fewer here.
"Good evening," she greeted, nodding to everyone before setting down a small folder she had been carrying.
Now, everyone was present.
The mood shifted.
This was Harry's stage, he needed everyone here for this meeting.
Harry stood, the quiet confidence in his posture unmistakable. He wasn't the boy who would let others decide his life for him, that he had left behind in his last life. Now, this new life was his chance to make a difference and save lives. This was his ground, and he carried that authority now.
"Thanks for coming," he began. "I know everyone has a lot going on, but this can't wait. As school is about to start and we need to strategize before it starts. Everyone knows already what's gonna happen this year as I have already told you in our last meeting, but why I wanted you here is to share my plan on how we are gonna tackle it.
"Wait, wait, wait, what's going to happen this year, why does everyone else know but I don't, Mom, Dad?" asked Tonks
Harry smiled at Tonks' questions and continued, "But before we talk strategy, there's something important I need to clear up."
His gaze shifted to Tonks.
"I was going to share the things which everyone else knows because you are on of my soulmates.
She raised an eyebrow. "Me?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. You are. And you deserve to know everything. About what's really going on. About Voldemort. About us."
Tonks' joking demeanor faltered. She glanced at Hermione and Luna, who both looked steady. Then at Sirius, who gave her the smallest of nods.
"Alright," Tonks said slowly. "I'm listening."
Harry didn't sugarcoat it. He told her about the time travel, his multiple deaths, the manipulations, the betrayals, and then at last, the prophecy — not in every grim detail, but enough that she understood why Voldemort was after him since his childhood, why this year he would be more targeted than any other year because of the Triwizard tournament. He explained the attack at the Quidditch World Cup Finals and the aftermath, the visions he used to have in his last lives, the truth about Dumbledore's manipulations, and his freaky control over anything Harry.
Hermione filled in pieces Harry missed, methodical and precise. Luna added comments that seemed clarifying, weaving in the emotional threads Harry left unsaid.
In the end, came the topic of soulmates, where Hermione pitched in with how she felt as Harry's soulmate, and Luna did the same. Harry again told her that others are also there who are Daphne, Susan, and Fleur, who is a student of the French Magical School.
Tonks sat through it all, butterbeer untouched in her hand. By the end, her playful grin was gone, replaced by a tight frown.
"So let me get this straight," she said finally. "I'm one of your soulmates, Hermione and Luna are also one, as well as Daphne, Susan, and some french witch as well. You do nothing at halves Harry, and that you've been carrying this whole mess since you were a baby and even came back in time for it. And now you're planning—what? To fight him? To end it yourself?"
Harry didn't flinch. "Yes."
The room was silent for a moment, the weight of the word settling.
Tonks leaned back, blowing out a slow breath. "Bloody hell, Harry. You could've just told me that at the end of term when you actually returned instead of waiting until now."
That broke the tension. Sirius barked a laugh. Hermione rolled her eyes. Even Amelia's lips twitched at the corner.
Harry gave a faint smile. "Would you have believed me?"
Tonks thought about it. "Probably not."
"You will have to give me some time to digest this whole dump of information. You are an attractive boy, and now, since you have become very fit and tall this summer, that has changed to a handsome hunk I could date, but you'll have to earn my trust again. Now let's get on to planning," finished Tonks.
So Harry started again, explaining every thing he wants to be done and what others will have to do, every pros and cons discussed, every i dotted and every t crossed. His plan was full proof but as his experience has taught him, their plans never survived the first contact with enemy, so asked the others for their inputs.
Everyone was agreeing but Sirius took some time to think before saying, "Your plan can work, and will work, but since there are so many unknown variables, it needs a marauder's touch, I know you are sceptial about Moony but I believe he will believe you and will not report anything to Dumbledore, let me bring him in from wherever his wolfy ass is hiding."
"You know how I feel about him Sirius but if you believe in him, then go ahead, we can be in touch using the communication mirrors in school, we are leaving in 4 days and that's enough time to get everyone their own. I'll get Dobby to buy those and pass it to you guys." and Harry finished the meeting.
Amelia left first, needing to check up on Susan, Tonks' left afterwards, Nymphadora, still in her own thoughts about the initial discussion, gave a to Hermione and Luna, and left with her parents.
Hermiona and Luna retired to their rooms, only Sirius and Harry stayed back.
"Did I do good?" asked Harry.
"You did amazing pup, your plan will work, it just needs little tweeking which I'll work on with Moony and Amelia, alongside Ted and Andromeda, you kids should enjoy the time you can."
Sirius retired as well after that.
Harry sat still in the meeting room.
His thoughts running wild, he had again moved forward towards his goal, but only fate and death knows what's in his destiny towards the end.