Chapter 9 - Déjà vu
Harry didn't know how and when he'd decided that making out with the former duelling champion in the ladies bathroom was a good idea but in the current moment, he couldn't say that he cared.
For some unfathomable reason, Claire had decided to kiss him as soon as that middle aged-woman had noticed them and now, after she'd hurriedly left the space, he had Claire sitting upon the counter with him standing between her legs, their lips mashed together in mutual desire.
And now, he pooled her hair in his right hand and used his left to rub her back as he kissed her with naked desire and urgency.
She mumbled against his forceful lips, tasting sweet and salty like butter. A part of him wanted to stop and get some answers from this strange and irresistible witch but that part had been subjugated quite firmly by the part that had been wanting to have this witch for himself ever since he'd seen her again ten minutes ago.
When she pulled back to breathe, smiling wolfishly at him, he knew his self-control was slipping but the analytical part of his mind scanned his surroundings anyway.
He knew that her wand was in a not-so-secret pocket of her dress and the locking charm he'd applied on the door of the bathroom was going to hold unless a literal storm broke it apart. So there really was nothing else vying for his attention than this delightfully needy witch.
He dropped his eyes to her not insignificant cleavage, heaving up and down with every breath she took, held up for him like a feast, those beautiful creamy breasts straining to be unleashed, looking absolutely delicious. She arched her back for him and he put his mouth to good use.
She moaned into his ear as he cut open her dress into two halves with a charm from the tip of his index finger, the cool air bringing pretty red splotches to her exposed milky skin.
He unwrapped her slowly, taking his time to touch and caress her, taking pleasure in every little gasp she exuded into his ears. His lips descended to her breasts, kissing and licking and biting all over, gradually moving to her pink nipples that were so hard for his attention.
The sounds that came out of her mouth then would've undone him, if not for his iron will and a little bit of Occlumency. But the side effect of a rational mind was that he suddenly remembered that his family will still be waiting for him to return.
"Fuck-I'm going to be late!" he cursed.
Claire was suddenly all serious although the glint in her eyes was another matter altogether.
"Then we must hurry, non?" she said huskily, removing her hands from where they lay against his back and bringing it to her own.
In the next moment, Harry could barely keep the surprise and desire from his face as she slid her knickers down her thighs and then to her knees.
"Please," she said kissing him again, her voice slurring just a little, and he needed no more bidding.
He broke apart to see the surprise in her gaze and then her mouth parted open in an unasked question and a scream as he hilted up inside her.
He gripped her legs that were still partially covered from her ruined dress, parted them with each hand, and thrust into her back and forward, pushing her roughly up the marble counter, her head against his shoulder.
She was like a dream, wet and hot but tight, so tight he had to pull her up against him, forcing himself in repeatedly to create that nice long and slick passage that brought sweet and spicy goosebumps down his neck and back. This witch who almost had him under her spell, was as petite as she was powerful, and as he held her against himself, he felt as if she was just made for him.
And then a small part of him, the infuriating realist within him, whispered that maybe this feeling was just a side effect of abstaining from his natural urges for so long.
Claire must be as wild in lust as him because soon, she was whimpering and panting and gasping his name, and he used a hand to pull her into a needy kiss again, increasing his pace even further.
She met his eyes then, the desire depicted as brightly as one of her fiery whips just earlier in the day. "Please Harry," she moaned, "I need you, I need your cock."
The bathroom was filled with noise of their coupling, the slapping of their flesh and her delightful moans and saucy, dirty words.
"I need you, Harry, please, harder... please..." she was screaming as a shudder passed through her, rocking her body as she lay her head against his shoulder, sagging against him.
He was close, he could feel it. She nibbled at his lip, now moaning softly and encouragingly after having already come apart to his rough ministrations. Her yes were shut but he knew that if not her body, then her words will be his undoing.
"Come on... Mon prince..."
And he was right because in only the next moment was he gushing into her, grunting and roaring and filling her up, her tightness milking him for everything he had to give. In his arms, she jerked and moaned and screamed and then sagged again, her eyes bright and her mouth smiling.
He didn't know how long they stood gazing into each other's eyes because then she swallowed and slid from the counter, her wand coming up to repair her dress.
He watched her put her knickers back on, instantly becoming hard again at the thought that they will likely be soaked from his spilling seed by the time she went home. He helped her a little with her dress and then she was leaning into him, her hands on his chest and her cheek against his own.
"Please tell me that I will see you again?" she whispered and he gazed deeply into her eyes to see a little hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty and a smidgen of vulnerability.
"Write to me," he said with as much firmness he could muster, his voice still rough and his head still swimming from her intoxicating musk.
"Okay," she agreed without hesitation and he grinned. In the next moment, he saw the old fun and confident Claire return and he claimed her lips again.
Claire left the bathroom first, and then he followed a few minutes later under a disillusionment spell. He found his family waiting near the entrance to the stadium.
"All good?" his Dad asked as soon as he was within earshot.
He smiled, nodded, and finally, they were on their way back home, and although he wouldn't admit it to either of the witches later, he studiously avoided both Bella and his Mum's gazes as they stepped into the fireplace.
--_- .
Rufus Scrimgeour was a deeply unhappy wizard. As the Head Auror, he'd worked tirelessly for the past sixteen years to get to where he was and now, everything was once again on the brink of unraveling.
The first time it had happened, almost fourteen years ago, he'd been a mid-level junior auror responsible for a team that was hunting down the infamous Death Eater Malric Jugson. He and a few other team leaders been tasked by Bones who was the Head of the DMLE at the time to bring them into custody.
It had seemed like a simple mission, raid the known haunt of the criminal, a watering hole by the name 'The Broken Wand'. He'd gotten it all down to the point where they were ready to make arrests when a member of his team had been taken hostage.
The resulting fight that had followed had almost destroyed his career. Bones and the Bagnold administration had come for his head, stating that his negligence had cost four Auror lives and only through sheer luck had he escaped the termination of his employment.
And that was why five years ago, when it came to selecting the new Head of the DMLE, his name been mercilessly skipped over.
And now, after the Blood war and some major international incidents in the ICW countries in the last few years, when things were just getting back to normal, there emerged another entity that would threaten the balance of powers in their world. And just like that, once again all of his hopes and dreams were on the line.
He knocked twice on the double doors to the Minister's office and they opened automatically, her voice beckoning him to enter.
"Rufus," she greeted him without looking up from the parchment she'd been reading, making him bristle. "What can I do for you?"
He cleared his throat loudly, making the witch sigh.
He sat in the chair meant for him at the desk and waited until he had her attention. It was the least she could do when she was meeting with someone as important as him.
"I've wanted to discuss with you a rather delicate matter," he began, "It's regarding the events from the last week."
Amelia frowned. "Explain."
He took the initiative. "Last week, we all saw the emergence of a powerful wizard, whose motives remain yet unknown. We do not know much about him, except the fact that he comes from a very powerful family. I'm requesting that we, as the Auror force who are the prime defence of this country, offer this wizard an internship with the Aurors, which upon graduating under the watchful eye of myself, will learn how to control and use his power in a way that benefits our country. Upon graduating from the internship, we'll be offering him a place as a trainee in our Auror force."
Amelia listened in rapt attention but leaned forward. "I don't see why you're bringing this up with me. Why are you not taking this up with Bella? She's the head of your department."
Rufus had expected this question and came prepared. "I cannot involve Madam Black as she is close with this subject. It will cloud her judgement."
Amelia gave him a scrutinizing look, one which he couldn't interpret. It's been too long since he'd been close to her. Once upon a time, they trained together, went on missions together and shared meals together. But now, she was the Minister and he was still stuck in the DMLE.
"Rufus," she said quietly, "Please tell me you're not talking about Harry Potter."
He was jubilant. This was the Amelia he knew, always figuring out things that others couldn't.
"Of course I am!" he confirmed. "Harry Potter is an unknown who has Merlin knows how much potential. If ignored, he could become a dangerous foe."
Amelia closed her eyes and leaned back. He frowned in disappointment. He liked it better when she was leaning forward and those massive tits of hers were supported by her desk.
But he could still enjoy the view, he decided. Even as she leaned back, she looked exquisite. He took the silence to admire her silently, taking her picture in his mind's eye. If he couldn't have her, at least he could let his eyes feast on her.
Once upon a time, he'd been close to Amelia and had thought they had potential to be something more than friends. Now, he was stuck with an insipid wife for whom he could barely get hard for without imagining Amelia in his arms.
"Rufus," she opened her eyes and regarded him seriously. He felt that she was finally coming around to see things as he wanted her to. "I can't authorize that. Not only is Harry Potter an underage wizard, but he's also the twin of the Boy-Who-Lived who has done nothing but win a duelling tournament. What you are proposing will cause me...us, a lot of grief if his family got the wind of it. And Bella will literally carve us both up if she learned of this."
Rufus smiled wickedly. "His family can do nothing about it. Lord Black may hold an important position in the ICW but his power means nothing here in Britain. And Madam Black will have no choice but follow the law if you sign the internship contract that I draft."
Amelia scoffed. He felt himself deflate at her glare. "What I'm hearing so far is that you want to force an underage wizard into an Auror program just because he seems to be powerful enough to win the Under-17 duelling tournament."
Rufus shook his head. "It's necessary for ensuring the safety of our country. Not to mention, the public will be disappointed in us if we let such a powerful wizard whose intentions we do not know roam unchecked."
Rufus knew he'd played his last card, but he still had a hope in his chest that Amelia would listen to reason. However, the next words out of her mouth made him question if she was the same witch that he used to know and admire. "Harry Potter is not a threat and we shouldn't refer to him as one, neither in public or not in private conversations."
"But-"
But the Minister raged on, looking angry. "Rufus, tell me this. You're saying that the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, the saviour of our country against the worst Dark Lord in history, is an extraordinarily powerful wizard, who if left unchecked can harm our country, and that you want to take him under your wing behind his godmother's back who is the Head of the DMLE and his godfather's back who is the Head of the DOJ in the ICW, and his powerful family's back who are literally heralded as heroes from the Blood war. You want to go against all of these people just on a hunch that a teenage boy could go on to become a Dark Lord if he didn't join your Aurors?"
Rufus sat stunned into speechlessness as she took apart his entire argument and spat on it. Swallowing a number of retorts that sounded extremely unprofessional even in his head, he stood up.
"I see that I can't change your mind," he said roughly. "I should've expected it, considering how close you seem to be with the boy's godfather."
That did it. The icy fury on her face told Rufus that he had overstepped. He had wanted her to know that he knew all about the long, unscheduled visits from Lord Black that went on for hours but never had he wanted to sound as if he was accusing her of bias.
So he did the only thing he could think of in that moment of uncertainty. He left the office, vowing to do something about the matter of Harry Potter himself.
--_- .
Harry sat in the private parlour of the Potter Manor, doing some advanced charms practise with his Mum.
Time and again he'd been told how brilliant his Mum had been but seeing it for himself and getting used to the benefits of it was another matter altogether. It was still a surreal experience for him when she performed spell after spell with apparent ease, and knowing how much work went into some of it now, he was immensely grateful to that special, unknown power called Fate or Destiny or something that had made it possible for him to be here and witness and experience it for himself.
"Harry, what is it? Harry!" his Mum was calling him, breaking his musings.
"I'm sorry," he murmured and then picked up his wand to perform the Fidelis Manus charm to unlock a small wooden box that he had sitting on the carpet beside himself.
Lily looked at him with amused exasperation and a little suspicion but smiled at his partial success. "You were distracted again."
Harry smiled sheepishly. "Yes, sorry. Just thinking about something else..." he didn't know to describe to her that all of this just felt like a dream still.
They'd started with simpler NEWT-level charms and rapidly progressed to the work she herself had done under Charms Master Flitwick. He received a smile every time he performed spell correctly and did it before he was expected to, and he tried but couldn't keep himself from preening every now and then under her appreciation. Every wrong move got him a detailed theoretical explanation behind the spell so when he attempted it again, he doubly put his mind to it to ensure that he succeeded.
"I hope it wasn't that girl that is putting you off from your studies," she said mock-sternly and he chuckled.
"Daphne Greengrass? No, she couldn't be further from my mind."
"Lavinia's daughter, was it?" she said thoughtfully. "Was she there to support you? You're in the same house."
"Support me?" he scoffed, "She was there with a proposition. Wait, you knew her mother?"
Lily nodded. "Of course, she was a year below us. She married Gerald Greengrass, who was year above us, just before she graduated."
When he frowned, Lily added, "Maybe her family was in trouble or something. What did you two talk about?"
He saw no reason to hide so he regaled their entire conversation.
"Maybe she came to you on her father's instruction?" she said.
Harry shook his head. "I don't know and I don't really care. I have no reason to."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm only concerned with my own family business, not anyone else's, especially with someone who isn't a friend," Harry shrugged.
His Mum seemed to take his objections in stride. "That's fair. Although, I wouldn't begrudge you for forgiving her."
When he looked incredulous, she hurried to explain, "She practically offered herself to you. Most wizards would jump at the chance, is all I'm saying."
When he continued staring at her in surprise, Lily began to look uncomfortable and he sighed. Who knew having parents meant that every aspect of your life was a fair topic for conversation?
"I'm not most wizards," he said gently but firmly. "She's done nothing to earn my approbation."
Lily nodded in acceptance, the awkwardness between them gone. "I understand that you want a deeper connection," she said and when he moved to pick up his wand again, she continued, "But-"
He groaned. Although, to be honest, a part of him was glad he could talk to her in matters like these too. He suspect that not many families understood each other so well.
Lily glared at him. "But," she continued, "If she or her family is in some kind of trouble, it will be good to know how you can capitalize on it."
Harry was pretty sure that if he had been a little less careful, he'd have choked on thin air.
"What?" he asked in disbelief.
"These kinds of opportunities don't come by everyday," she replied.
Harry chuckled. "No I understand that. I just didn't expect you to be so..." he trailed off but then met her gaze, "ruthless."
His Mum looked at him seriously. "Your grandfather had a saying, you know," when he looked interested, she spoke, "'Only the family matters, everyone else is cannon fodder.'So to keep our family safe, we have to cross some lines every now and then.
Harry looked at his Mum with a newfound admiration. "Have you crossed any lines before, Mum?"
She gazed at the crackling fire in the hearth, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Some."
Harry continued his casting when it looked like his Mum was lost in some old memories. But that didn't matter to him, not really, only being in her presence was more than enough.
Exactly when he'd finished undoing the charm that he could now swear he could do and undo in the blink of an eye in the heat of the battle, they were disturbed by the door banging open.
"Harry, you're here!" James said breathlessly, entering the room and giving Lily a kiss. "How's the practise coming along?"
"No complaints," Harry attested, flashing his Mum a grin, "Where are you coming from?"
"Oh just a boring Wizengamot session. Apparently, they want to redirect some of the DMLE funds to the Department of International Relations, bloody fools as they are! But that's neither here nor there," he said changing the subject, "Are you staying for dinner? Julius has made Trifle today, it's otherworldly, I tell you."
"How did you know what Julius has made for dessert, James?" Lily asked suspiciously.
James winced, avoiding her gaze. "I may have been to the kitchen again..." he said sheepishly.
Harry laughed, agreeing immediately. Lily gave James an exasperated look that spoke vividly of years of experience in tolerating his antics.
--_- .
He'd just left his Mum and Dad to talk a walk when some familiar voices coming likely from a sitting room upstairs caught his ear.
He followed the noises to discover that a group of three were occupying John's private sitting room, conversing loudly.
"And then I slept till the afternoon!" Ron Weasley boasted to which John looked jealous. Hidden underneath the effect of a disillusionment charm, Harry wondered if jealousy was his twin's perpetual state of existence. Did he even know how to feel any other emotion?
Then he remembered that John had seemed happy for him at the award ceremony of the duelling tournament and he felt a twinge of guilt for thinking ill of his brother.
"Lucky git!" John exclaimed. "Mum never lets me sleep past eight!"
Weasley looked aghast. "Still? But you're almost fourteen!"
John shook his head. "That doesn't mean I'll be spared from her anger if she ever caught me being late to breakfast."
"The family breakfast?" Hermione asked.
John nodded and she continued, "My parents and I always eat our breakfast and dinner together. We used to before I went to Hogwarts, and now since that they see me for barely two months a year, we want to spend as much time together as possible."
Weasley grimaced, "That's mental! It's only breakfast!"
Hermione glared at him. "I think it's sweet and thoughtful," she defended and Harry saw that John was wisely keeping out of what was becoming a classic Weasley and Granger spat.
In the next moment, they were going at each other's throats and Harry began to lose interest in the conversation. But then, he saw Hermione huff and stand up.
"I'm going to go say hello to Rose and Dorea," she announced and left the room.
Harry followed her and when he felt that they were a safe distance away from John's room, he cancelled his charm and stepped beside her. "Hello Hermione."
He had to give her credit when she barely flinched but turned to glare at him, her hand on her heart. She was wearing a baby pink shirt and white trousers, looking an abundant amount of normal in this abnormal world they were inhabiting.
And pretty, his heart said with a decidedly firm squeeze to his insides, she looked extremely pretty.
Her hair didn't look like it had the same bushiness as Hermione of his previous world had. Instead, it looked very manageable, framing her face in a way that was extremely reminiscent of his Hermione.
"Harry," she said warily, looking both uncomfortable and awkward. Harry hated that he made her feel this way.
It wasn't as if she could ask him what he was doing here, as this was his house. So she chose to fold her hands awkwardly, still regarding him with a guarded expression.
"I didn't know you were here," Harry spoke gently, "Were you meeting with John?"
Hermione nodded. "We, Ron and I that is, usually visit in the summer," she informed him, and he inwardly gave her credit for understanding the reason behind his question in the first place. It was just like her to figure out what he meant without him even saying it. Since Harry had never lived here, he didn't know that John had his friends over often.
"Right," he smiled, searching for things to say, "I didn't know," he scratched his head, thinking darkly as to how and when had it become so hard to talk to his best friend. "I'm sorry, I'm just new to all this," he gestured with his hands in a sweeping motion around him.
Hermione's gaze softened. "Are you doing alright?"
"Having my family back is fantastic," he said honestly.
She nodded. "Is everything alright now with your parents and your sisters?
Harry didn't need to pretend to like the topic of their conversation. "It's more than alright. They accepted me like I was never gone," he admitted and Hermione beamed at him, her grin and the twinkle in her eyes lighting up her features and giving him aching flashbacks of the Hermione he'd left behind.
"I'm happy for you, Harry," she said, his name rolling of her lips so easily and familiarly that he had the strongest urge to embrace her.
"Thanks," he began to walk with her. "Where are you going?"
"To find your sisters," she replied, to which he asked, "You're friends with them?"
Something in his tone might've thrown her off because she narrowed her eyes. "Yes, why?"
"No, I just thought that you won't have time to be friends with my sisters, considering John will be monopolizing your time," he jested.
She gave him a hint of a smile and then looked at him curiously and he felt that he'd just asked something obvious. "John doesn't decide who I'm friends with," she said a little sharply and he felt inwardly relieved, "Rose spent eleven days at my side in the hospital wing, you know, when John was down in the Chamber," she averted her gaze.
He understood. "I didn't know that," he touched her arm and was grateful that she didn't flinch. "Look Hermione, I want to talk to you, will you come sit with me?"
He resisted the urge to fidget under her scrutinizing gaze. "Alright," she agreed.
He guided her to his chambers, opening the door to his cozy and grand sitting room.
"I swear I can't believe all this is mine," he joked.
Hermione chuckled. "It is quite grand," she quipped.
"Tell me about it," he snorted. "Sometimes I half expect someone to burst in and tell me it's all a mistake."
Hermione smirked, brushing her fingers along the edge of a polished mahogany desk. "If that happens, let me know. I'd love to watch you argue your way into keeping it."
He grinned. "Oh, I'd win. Charm and wit, you know—irresistible combination."
She raised an eyebrow. "Right. Let's hope they're enough to convince whoever designed this décor not to arrest you for your taste in furniture."
"Oi!" he exclaimed, laughing. "I'll have you know this is classic wizarding luxury!"
"Classic, indeed," she teased. "Straight out of a 1800s history book."
They both burst into laughter, the grandeur of the room suddenly feeling far less intimidating and the company much more comfortable.
Standing side by side on the loveseat near a window, Harry could almost make himself believe that it was just like old times.
"Hermione," he began, and something in his demeanour might've tipped her off because she grew serious. "I wanted to tell you that I had nothing to do with Ginny Weasley's disappearance."
She swallowed but made no move to turn away from him. He rejoiced a little at their closeness.
"I believe you," she said softly. Then she scrunched her eyes shut. "I don't know why but I believe you."
He didn't know whether to dance in joy or grow alarmed at her strange admission. Ever since he's read in his younger counterpart's journal that Ron Weasley had poisoned Hermione as well as any other in his house that would lend an ear to his ramblings against him, Harry had known that he had to do his best to make her believe the truth. And the truth was there too, which he'd never had the chance to admit it to her or anyone else.
"Tell me what happened in the Chamber, and don't leave anything out," she said firmly and he smiled in wistfulness at seeing his best friend's natural bossy self reappear.
Then he began to narrate.
"I only know what I saw from the moment I was in the Chamber. Fawkes gave me a lift to the atrium. Before that, I saw Ron trapped on the other side of the debris. I swear, one moment I was in the library, trying to find some clue as what the beast in the Chamber was and in the next second, Fawkes was coming to stand in front of me, on my desk, beckoning for me to take its talon."
Hermione was listening in astonishment.
"He flew me right to the atrium of the Chamber, and I saw John lying there unconscious, just beside Ginny. There was a boy there too, a slightly older student, maybe a sixth or seventh year. He was Voldemort. He was holding Ginny's wand and he unleashed the Basilisk on me."
He heard her gasp but forged ahead with the tale.
"I could barely distract the snake before Fawkes helped by attacking its eyes and blinding it so that I could move and try to go near John and Ginny. I saw that Ginny was pale, and her body almost didn't look solid. John also didn't wake and Voldemort told me that Ginny didn't have much time left. He asked me to duel him."
He heard a sharp intake of breath at that. "And you did?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
"I had no choice," Harry shrugged. "I failed to stop him. Then when he'd amused himself enough, he set the Basilisk on me again."
"What happened?"
"Fawkes happened," he smiled. "He dropped the sorting hat on my head. The hat gave me the Sword of Gryffindor. I fought the beast and killed it but one of its fangs stabbed my arm." He said and at this point, he began to pull back the sleeves of his shirt to show the scar.
Hermione immediately moved to touch it, her eyes shining with tears.
"There was a diary in Ginny's robes. I tried to stab it through the fang but Voldemort told me it was too late," he exhaled loudly, "Ginny's body had turned milky white, and Voldemort looked solid." Harry turned towards Hermione who was now holding his hand, "He mocked me, saying that I barely had a few minutes left to live. And then he disappeared and I blanked out."
He saw a tear run down her cheek. "I don't remember anything after that, except waking up in the hospital wing and then Dumbledore awarding two hundred points to Ron, John and you for special services to the school."
"Oh, Harry," she said and then his arms were closing around her and she was melting into him. "I'm so sorry! How you have suffered!" she wept into his shoulder.
It could've been ages before she pulled away and he immediately missed their closeness. "It wasn't all bad. At least I can boast that I got saved by a phoenix."
She laughed through her tears. "Prat."
Then she grew serious. "So, this is it?"
Harry nodded, looking into her eyes. "This is a faithful account of everything that happened."
For a few minutes they sat in complete silence, the crackling of the fire and her ragged breaths the only sounds in the room. Then he grew impatient.
"Do you believe me, Hermione?"
She looked at him miserably. "You know that John claims that he killed the Basilisk and he says that you--"
Harry felt crushed. "So you don't believe me then."
"No! I do! I do believe you!" she pleaded, "At least, I want to believe you. I'm sorry," she burst into tears again. "I don't know what to do. Why would John lie?"
Harry didn't know the answer to that question. "Maybe he doesn't remember and he thinks he killed it?"
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. Dumbledore met us, you know, after the incident. He said that John had done a great service to the school. He didn't go into the specifics but he did say that John was a hero."
Harry stood up at that, walking to gaze at the fire. His mind was whirling.
"Harry?" Hermione spoke.
"I don't know what to think, Hermione," he said finally, "Someone is lying. And it isn't me."
It was a moment later that he felt hand on his arm and he turned to see Hermione, with her tearstained face looking at him with a deeply conflicted expression.
"I'm sorry," she said again, "I'm trying to understand what happened," she seemed to struggle with something then. "I am still...I'm having..." she didn't finish. He waited and she took a breath. "I need some time to figure out some things..." she trailed off.
"I understand," he said, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. He lingered for a second more than he intended before turning back to the fire again. "When you're ready, come to me. I'll be around."
She nodded and turned to go. He felt her eyes on his back twice before he heard her footsteps leaving the room.
He just knew that he was fighting an uphill battle with something he still didn't understand and forces working against him.
He had work to do.
--_- .
Harry was the first to breakfast, having always maintained the habit of rising early. Coming to stand near the serving table, he helped himself to an apple and took his usual seat around the table.
The second down was Lily, still rubbing her eyes but her face seemed to light up at seeing him there. "Good morning!" she said happily.
"You look happy," he commented.
Picking up an apple herself, she sat down. "We're going shopping today!"
Harry looked aghast. "What?"
"Your Dad and I are getting you a new wardrobe," Lily announced.
"Magical or muggle?"
"Both, of course," she replied.
Harry groaned. Today was already decided for him then, and all without his knowledge.
"You don't need to look so glum, you know," his father quipped, joining them and coming to ruffle his hair.
He looked up to see them both displaying matching grins. "Why?" he asked sulkily, enjoying this way too much, even though it was completely against his wishes.
"What do you mean?" James asked in confusion. Harry couldn't tell if it was genuine or fake, you can never know with his Dad.
He glared. "Why do I need more clothes? I thought we already did all the shopping we needed for the year."
"Because appearances matter and not only are you representing the Family in public, you're also a celebrity now."
Julius appeared and began to pour cups of Earl Grey all around the table.
James agreed with Lily's explanation and sat down in his own chair beside her. "And celebrities are expected to show-off!" he said, hiding his grin behind his tea cup.
Harry sighed. "I could just run away for the day, you know, go for a walk in the country side. I'll magically reappear at dinner time."
Lily scowled at him. "You'll do no such thing!"
Harry shrugged. "If you wanted me to comply with this scheme, you should've only told me when it was time to go, not now when I can still make plans of my own," he smiled wickedly.
James guffawed.
Lily turned her glare to her husband. "He's definitely your son."
James couldn't speak for he was laughing so hard.
"If he really does it, he's definitely your son, Lily," he spoke, taking a breath, "He's got your temper."
Lily narrowed her eyes, pointing her finger at James. "Will you stop laughing and ask your son why he insists on tormenting me?"
James wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "Tormenting you? Lily, he's a natural-born Marauder. I'm proud of him."
Harry leaned back in his chair, smirking. "See? Dad gets it."
"Of course, I get it," James said, grinning at Lily. "This is good plotting, Lily. The boy has talent."
Lily threw her hands in the air. "Jesus Christ, I'm surrounded by lunatics!" She looked at Harry. "You're going. No walks. No countryside. No schemes. End of discussion."
Harry tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Noted. Now, hypothetically speaking, if I were to escape, would you want me to leave a note or just disappear mysteriously for dramatic effect?"
James burst out laughing again, nearly spilling his tea. "Merlin, Lily, he's brilliant! That's exactly how you'd do it!"
Lily groaned. "I swear, if you two keep this up, I'm the one running away!" She got up.
"Let us know when dinner's ready!" James called after her retreating form, earning a cushion thrown at his head.
"Merlin, what's happening!?" Rose asked, eliciting another round of chuckles from her Dad.
Julius popped in with the day's Daily Prophet and Lily unfolded it, giving them all a dirty look.
Harry saw his Mum sit down again to read when he saw the face turn thunderous.
"Mum?"
Suddenly, the temperature of the room had died down. James got up to go read behind her shoulder.
"She's gone too far this time!" James muttered venomously. "That bitch!"
Rose looked wide-eyed at her parents and then at Harry, and he signalled her that it was alright.
Turning to his parents, he asked what was the matter.
James was fuming while Lily was still silently reading the whole article, her face set in stone. "What is it?" he asked again.
Harry asked for the newspaper and saw that on the front page lay a story about him. Or rather, a new full-page defamation featurette on him.
"Who is Harry Potter? A friend or a threat to Britain?" Harry read aloud and felt a familiar rage simmer within him. He thought he'd seen the last of his character assassination in his own world but nope. It looked like he was going to go through the same thing here.
Then he saw a look pass between his parents.
"Mum, Dad?" Harry said placatingly, "I don't think this merits too much thought."
"Not merits much thought?" Lily repeated dangerously. "Harry, no one touches our family and gets away with it," she said and turned to James, "No one."
James nodded and asked for Julius.
"Master?" the elf said in his usual gravitas.
"Ask Sirius and come meet us here," James ordered.
Julius bowed and popped away.
By the time Sirius arrived, everyone was awake and aware of the news. The padfooted one looked at the sombre mood of everyone and asked, "Who died?"
Lily threw the newspaper at him.
He took a minute to read the article and when he turned to them, he had an unnatural glint in his eye.
"We aren't going to let this go," James said firmly. "This is a blatant attack on Harry and our family."
Sirius nodded. "Rita hasn't bothered us for more than a decade. This seems rash, even from her."
"Whatever it is, we have to set a precedent or one will be set for us. We can't let her write whatever she wants and get away with it.," Lily supplied.
"But what can we do?" Harry asked to the room.
Sirius smirked. "As it happens, I have information that you'll want to know about Rita Skeeter," he began and at everyone's patient looks, he added, "She's an illegal animagus."
A thoughtful silence descended upon the family and was broken only when Lily spoke, "Julius, please fetch Bella. Tell her we are having a family meeting."
The obedient major-domo bowed and popped away to his task.
"Right. I'm hungry," Sirius said, "Food first, plans later."
James hid a grin while Lily rolled her eyes. Harry released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
So this is how a family operates.
Chapter 10 - Fraught with Danger
Harry yawned as he took in the familiar old kitchen of Grimmauld Place, drinking his last cup of tea, as he'd promised himself, before retiring for the night.
He'd stayed at the Potter Manor for two whole days, enjoying spending time with his family, having Charms and Potions lessons with his Mum and Transfiguration and Runes lessons with his Dad. It was mind boggling how brilliant they both were, and every time he realized how lucky he was, he felt a deep sense of gratitude fill him.
He'd been extremely fortunate to go from being fate's plaything in his old world to being in control of his life in this new, better one. He'd been give a chance to live a life of his dreams, and he didn't think it had been a coincidence.
Whenever he learnt a little tidbit of what was happening around him, both in his country and the world, he felt as he was here to play a role that he didn't know yet.
So he did the only thing he could, which is prepare. He had to prepare for the worst to make sure his family survived anything that was coming.
He had to admit though, his mind had been occupied with more pleasant things ever since he'd come here. Doom and gloom were inevitable but still, inspite of everything, his family gave him strength. Even the combined effects of the strange behaviour of Daphne Greengrass two weeks ago, his character being called into question in the Daily Prophet and the upcoming World Cup, didn't put a damper on his mood.
Speaking of the World Cup.
"Kreacher!" he called, finishing his tea.
The old elf appeared with his head bowed subserviently. It was a most welcoming and yet a spooky sight.
"Have any letters arrived for me?"
Kreacher nodded slowly. "The Mistress has all the letters, Master Potter."
Harry smiled. "Thank you, Kreacher," he said, getting up to look for Bella.
He found her in her sitting room, sitting in front of the mirror, waving her wand over her hair. He knocked and entered and then immediately halted in his approach.
"Bella, have you seen a letter for me?" he asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant, considering he was talking to her through the mirror while she sat turned away from him, clad in only a black bra and circle skirt.
His godmother hummed. "Yes, you'll find one on the desk," she signalled to the desk by the window. "It's from Claire Gauthier, I believe."
Harry heard a question in her tone but ignored it, stepping to collect the letter he'd been expecting. He saw what looked like her formal robes laying draped over the back of the chair.
But Bella didn't leave the subject alone. "I didn't know you were friends with her."
He looked at her eyes in the mirror, although it was a difficult task. "Yes, we talked after the award ceremony. She is a nice witch."
"Clearly," she said. "After all, you crushed her in the finals."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe she didn't care about that."
Bella looked like she was trying to hide a smile. "And here I thought you were growing up so fast. You clearly lack experience in witches if you think she didn't care about you defeating her as if she was nothing."
Harry was inwardly amused but he had to keep up appearances. So he glared at her. "You're telling me she liked losing the duel so badly?"
Bella grinned. "I'm saying that she liked losing the duel to you."
Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the desk. "And why, exactly, would she like that? Is there some secret witchy logic I'm missing?"
Bella smirked, still gazing at him through the mirror as she adjusted her hair. "Oh, it's no secret. Witches love a bit of power. You practically handed her a story to tell her friends—how she stood across from the Harry Potter and put up a valiant fight before being bested by the great hero himself."
He chuckled, crossing his arms. "You make me sound like some sort of romanticized villain in her story."
Bella finally turned her head slightly, glancing at him directly. "Not a villain. More like... the dashing rival who humiliated her just enough to make her intrigued. And excited."
Harry shook his head, smiling despite himself. "That's ridiculous."
"Is it?" Bella tilted her head, studying him as if he were an amusing puzzle. "Tell me, when she was talking to you, how close did she stand?"
He frowned, thinking back and trying his best school his expression to a neutral one as he didn't want to remember how close Claire had been with him, right then in front of Bella. "I don't know. Normal close?"
Bella snorted. "There's no such thing as 'normal close' when a witch is talking to a wizard like you. Tell me, did she touch your arm? Brush her fingers against yours?"
Harry blinked. Claire had brushed a lot of things against him to keep track of. "What? No—well... maybe. I wasn't paying attention!"
Bella let out a soft laugh, standing and turning to face him fully now. "Oh, Harry. You really are hopeless."
"Hopeless?" he repeated, incredulous. "Because I didn't overanalyze a perfectly innocent exchange of words?"
He tried not to remember how innocent she had seemed when she had her mouth parted open and her eyes lidded in ecstasy as he ravaged her.
"Innocent?" Bella echoed, raising a delicate brow as she reached him. "Someone like Claire Gauthier doesn't send innocent letters to handsome duelists who humiliate her in front of an international crowd."
He felt his cheeks flush, but he refused to back down. "Maybe she just wants talk about duelling techniques. Ever think of that?"
Bella placed a hand on his chest, her grin growing. "Oh, I'm sure she does. I'm also sure she'd like you to demonstrate those techniques somewhere... private."
Harry groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. What he'd feared had happened. "You're impossible."
"Am I?" she said sweetly, stepping around him and plucking the letter from his hand. She turned it over in her fingers, her voice casual yet teasing. "Let's see what she has to say, then, shall we?"
Harry made a grab for it, but Bella was quicker, holding it just out of his reach. "Bella, give it back."
"Not until I confirm my theory," she said, laughing as she danced a step away from him.
He lunged again, and this time, he caught her wrist. She gasped lightly, her laughter halting as their eyes locked.
"Fine," Harry said, his voice low, a teasing edge in his tone. "You've got my attention. What's your theory?"
Her grin faltered for just a second, her breath catching before she recovered. "My theory is that you're utterly oblivious to when a witch is interested in you."
"Or," he countered, tugging her slightly closer, "maybe I'm just not interested in Claire Gauthier."
Bella raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the flicker of curiosity in her expression. "No? And why's that?"
Harry leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. "Because I've already got someone else keeping me thoroughly entertained."
"And does this someone have a name?" she asked.
He leaned in closer, now brushing his lips against her dark locks. "Hermione Granger."
She jerked away, her gaze growing exasperated and she whacked his chest. "Hmphh!"
Harry grinned, releasing her wrist and stepping back. "What?"
Bella chuckled and went to sit at her vanity again, tossing the letter back to him. "You'd better read that quickly. Claire might be easier competition than you think. Isn't Hermione John's brilliant know-it-all friend?"
He caught the letter, his smile widening. "Got it in one."
She met his eyes from the mirror, her gaze meaningful. "You want her for yourself." It was a statement and not a question.
Harry said nothing and without breaking her gaze, went to stand behind her, loosely hugging her from behind. His chin now rested gently on her head and his arms hung down her front.
"I do," he answered, his eyes drifting lower than her eyes, to her heavy breasts that somehow obeyed the laws of physics with that lacy bra, though not so easily because every breath that she took in made them seem larger and fuller.
"Why?" she asked, her voice unwavering.
He met her eyes again, not even trying to hide the fact that he was ogling her half-naked self. It didn't seem like she minded anyway.
"Because I like her very much," he said honestly. "Why? Does John like her too?"
"I've heard from your parents before that John is expected to ask her out soon."
This was news to him. Bella sensed his surprise.
"You didn't know?"
He shook his head. "Not that it'll change anything. Hermione will be mine."
Bella's eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched Harry's reflection in the mirror. She seemed to be enjoying the possessive tone in his voice, and her gaze drifted down to where his arms were wrapped around her, inches from her forbidden flesh.
"I'm not sure that's up to you, Harry," she said, her voice husky. "Hermione seems like a smart girl. She might have her own ideas about who she wants to be with."
Harry's chin nudged against her head, and he leaned in closer, his breath whispering against her ear. "I'll convince her," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.
Bella gulped, and he felt her her skin prickle against him with awareness.
"I'm sure you will," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you put your mind to it."
He boldly placed a kiss on her neck. She gasped but her smile grew.
"Look at you, attempting to seduce not one but two witches. I'm sure your father and your godfather will be proud of you."
"And you?" She arched her back and he pulled his arms closer, enveloping her breasts completely, feeling the heat of her skin on his biceps. "Are you proud of me?"
He saw the heated gleam in her eye and he felt rewarded for his bravery. "I'm very proud of you, Harry," she said, angling her head to place a kiss on his shirt clad arm.
He gave her one last smouldering look before he withdrew, placing one last kiss on her cheek and one on her delicious neck. "Thank you, Bella."
He heard a goodnight through the door and smiled to himself. "This is fun," he murmured to himself. It was quickly becoming a game between him and Bella.
Who was gonna break and make a move first?
--_-- .
James Potter didn't like the appearance of the The Poisoned Chalice.
He was standing in the Alley, looking around at the various dingy shops that invited all kinds of good and bad people. He saw two witches fighting over what looked like a small vial of potion and the others giving her a wide berth. He saw the vial break open and spill on a passerby who screamed in agony and dropped to a knee while the passing wizards went about their business, as if this was too normal to care. He saw a child shout from a window opposite the pub and a wizard on the street start running in the opposite direction.
James exhaled a puff of smoke from his burning cigar and shook his head. No, he didn't like this at all. But it had to be done.
He still didn't understand why a pureblood will ever step foot inside this pub but then, he realized that was one of the reasons he'd never fit in with the crowd. Even at Hogwarts, apart from his group of pranksters and some other Gryffindor friends, he had never branched out. It wasn't for lack of trying, no, but because he'd never understood most of his peers.
As he pushed open the creaking door, the stale air of the pub hit him, thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke. The dim light cast long shadows across the worn wooden bar, where a motley crew of regulars were nursing their drinks. The walls were adorned with faded Playwizard posters and peeling wallpaper, and the couple of wizards in the corner played a mournful tune.
He found an empty stool at the end of the bar and slid onto it, feeling the worn leather beneath him. The bartender, a grizzled man with a scowl, glanced at him without enthusiasm. He ordered a pint of bitter and took a sip, savouring the bitter taste.
The regulars at the bar were a colourful Knockturn bunch. There was a group of aging wizards in faded robes, nursing their drinks and arguing. A few older gentlemen in expensive looking robes sat in a corner, sipping whisky and discussing the day's news. And at the far end of the bar, a lone woman sat nursing a glass of wine, her gaze fixed on the wireless above the bar, her lips moving silently to the music.
The atmosphere in the pub was thick with the smoke of cigarettes and the clinking of glasses. The conversation was loud and boisterous, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional argument. James sat back and took in the scene, hoping his target was due to arrive.
He'd been meaning to catch him for more than a week now and couldn't help his impatience. Today was not one of his usual days, and so, James had better hopes of finding him for his usual fill of whiskey and women.
"I like your cigar, Mister," said a soft, foreign voice from beside him.
He looked up to see a brunette waitress holding up a refill for him. He signalled and she acquiesced. He figured he should respond.
"Thanks," he replied, a wry smile playing on his lips.
The waitress, a moderately pretty witch with her tits spilling out of her robes regarded him with a mischievous glint in her eye, leaning against the counter. "You know, it's not often we get a customer who can appreciate a good cigar in a place like this."
He chuckled. "Well, a man's gotta have his vices, right?"
"Especially when they're good ones," she agreed, a playful grin spreading across her face. "So, what brings you to this little hole-in-the-wall?"
"Just passing through," he said, taking a long drag of his cigar. "Needed a place to unwind."
"Well, you've certainly found the right place," she replied, winking at him. "Anything else you need, Mister?"
He sipped from his glass and tossed her a galleon. "Maybe later," he replied, smirking.
She giggled and left him alone after that.
It was only minutes later when the door chime clinked again and he saw his former classmate enter.
The wizard slid in a stool away from him and ordered a special firewhiskey. James figured that it was a treat for a long time customer like him. After it was served, the wizard walked away with his drink to likely find a booth.
As the wizard disappeared into the dimly lit recesses of the pub, James' eyes narrowed. He had been waiting for this moment for a few days now, ever since he'd learned about this watering hole from Bella. family.
James pushed back his stool, his movements fluid and deliberate, as he made his way towards the booth where the wizard had settled, his wand hidden by the sleeve of his robes.
Sliding into his booth, he noticed that he had a witch gyrating on his lap.
"Corban," he murmured harshly and the wizard looked up from his drink, startled, "It's been a while."
For a moment, they just stared at each other, the only sound the soft murmur of hushed conversations and clinking glasses from the rest of the pub. Yaxley's eyes, a cold, calculating grey, seemed to bore into James', but he didn't flinch. He had expected this reaction, had anticipated that Yaxley would try to intimidate him.
Yaxley's expression twisted into a sneer. "Potter. Joining me for a drink? Evans not satisfying you these days?"
James ignored the taunt, his eyes locked on Yaxley's. "I'm not here for entertainment, Corban. I'm here to discuss business."
Yaxley raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what kind of business could we possibly have to discuss, Potter?"
James leaned forward, his movements economical and precise. From his pocket, he produced a small vial filled with a colourless liquid, courtesy of Lily's exceptional skills, and placed it upon the table.
"I want you to sign this parchment," he placed a leaf of parchment beside the vial.
Yaxley mockingly glared at the parchment and picked it up. James whispered, "Go on, the sooner you do it, the better."
And then he began to laugh. "You're mad, Potter. Why will I ever sign over my best investment over to you?"
"It's not a matter of why, Corban. It's a matter of when," James said, pulling the girl away from Yaxley. She shrieked and stumbled and then scampered off after a glare from him.
"What the hell do you think you're -" Yaxley started but began to cough.
The suspicion on his face now dissolved into panic.
James ignored him.
"Will you sign the Prophet over now when you're alive or will I have to ask Bella to take it from your wife and children after you're dead?"
Yaxley began to claw at his neck. "Please...Potter... don't do this..."
James shook his head at him, looking at the vial on the table. The Pub's name now seemed eerily ironic.
"I wonder whose mind will break first. Your son or your daughter. I'm betting it will be your daughter. But Bella says it will be your wife, after seeing her children tortured into insanity," James mused.
Sweat and tears coming out of his eyes, Yaxley thrashed in his seat. James put a blood quill beside the vial.
"What's your choice then, Corban?"
Yaxley struggled but signed the parchment with his blood.
James stood up grabbed his jaw and poured the contents of the vial into his open mouth. "Swallow like a good boy if you want to live."
Yaxley swallowed. "You'll never get away with this, Potter," he spat, gaining his bearings again. "I'll make sure of it."
James just laughed, a low, menacing sound. "The antidote was sitting right in front of you and you didn't have the sense to take it. What chance do you have against my family, Corban?"
He didn't wait for an answer and turned, his feet taking him out of the place in a matter of seconds.
Walking to the nearest apparation station, he wondered if Lily was having as much success as he had. He doubted it but knew that his wife would not take no for an answer anyway.
--_-- .
As they apparated into the heart of Paris, Harry and Sirius found themselves surrounded by the charming architecture of the city's magical district. The narrow streets were lined with quaint shops, cafes, and boutiques, each one showcasing a unique aspect of French wizarding culture. The air was filled with the sweet scent of freshly baked croissants and the sound of soft chatter.
"Le Marais Magique," Sirius grinned at Harry as they made their way through the crowded streets. "Not quite like Diagon Alley, is it?" he said, nodding towards a nearby patisserie that specialized in magical pastries. "But just as enchanting in its own way."
Harry's eyes widened as he took in the sights and sounds around him. They passed by a shop selling intricate, handmade wands with delicate craftsmanship, and another offering an assortment of rare, exotic potions ingredients. Everywhere they looked, there were hints of the rich magical history that permeated this district.
As they turned a corner, Sirius led Harry towards a small, unassuming bakery shop.
Harry glanced amusedly at his godfather. "Are we having a second breakfast?"
Sirius said nothing and soon they were standing before a brick wall at the back of the shop. Sirius tapped his wand and Harry's eyes widened in realization.
The entrance to the French Ministry of Magic was guarded by two stern-looking French wizards in elegant, dark blue robes. They eyed Harry and Sirius warily before nodding in recognition at the older wizard.
"Bonjour, Director Black," one of them said, with a slight bow. "We've been expecting you. You and your... guest are cleared to enter the Ministry."
Sirius smiled and clapped Harry on the back. "This way, Harry. The portal is just inside."
They stepped into the building, which turned out to be little more than a facade for the real entrance to the Ministry. Inside, they found themselves in a small, dimly lit room with a large, ornate mirror at its center. The mirror seemed to ripple and shimmer as Sirius approached it.
"This is the Portail de la Ministère," he explained to Harry. "It's a secure portal that leads directly into the Ministry's central hub. Just step through, and we'll be there in an instant."
Harry felt a thrill of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness as he followed Sirius through the shimmering portal. On the other side, they found themselves in a bustling, high-ceilinged atrium filled with wizards and witches hurrying to and fro. The air was thick with the murmur of conversations and the soft rustle of conversation and flying parchments .
Sirius nodded towards a nearby staircase. "The Minister's office is just up those stairs. Let's hope we can catch him in a good mood."
As they climbed the stairs, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the grandeur of the French Ministry. The French Ministry of Magic, with its airy, light-filled halls and vibrant tapestries, exuded a sense of elegance and joy. In stark contrast, the British Ministry, cloaked in shadows and heavy stone, was a place of somber seriousness, where the weight of centuries of magical history hung heavy in the air.
At the top of the stairs, they were greeted by a elegant receptionist who smiled warmly at Sirius before turning to Harry. "Bonjour, young Monsieur Potter. Welcome to the Ministère de la Magie. I'll let the Minister know you're here."
With that, she disappeared into the office, leaving Harry and Sirius to wait for their meeting with the French Minister of Magic.
Harry stood beside Sirius, who was seated in a plush armchair in the opulent office of the French Minister of Magic. The room was adorned with lavish tapestries, giving off an air of extravagance that made Harry feel uneasy.
As he glanced around the room, Harry's eyes landed on a large, ornate mirror hanging above the fireplace. It seemed out of place among the other decorations, and he wondered if it was a magical artifact or simply a expensive piece of furniture. He also noticed that the Minister's desk was cluttered with papers, quills, and strange, exotic trinkets that seemed to be more for show than actual use.
Minister Dumont, a tall, slender man with a pointed beard and a charming smile, leaned back in his chair behind the massive desk. His eyes, however, seemed to hold a calculating glint that put Harry on edge. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with a crisp white shirt and a patterned tie that seemed to be made of silk. A large, golden watch adorned his wrist, and a pair of cufflinks that looked like they were made of solid gold sparkled in the light.
"Ah, Director Black, it's an honour to finally meet you," Dumont said, his voice smooth as silk. "And, of course, the famous Harry Potter. I've heard so much about you, young man."
Harry smiled politely, but he couldn't help feeling that Dumont was being insincere. There was something about the Minister's demeanour that didn't sit well with him – perhaps it was the way he seemed to be trying too hard to be charming.
Sirius nodded, his expression neutral. "Minister Dumont, thank you for seeing us. I'm sure you're aware of why we're here."
LaFleur's smile never wavered, but his eyes seemed to narrow slightly. "I believe it's regarding the presence of your Hit Wizards in France, Director Black. We've had... complaints about their behaviour, and our citizens are growing restless."
Harry watched as Sirius leaned forward, his eyes locked intently on Dumont. "I understand that there may be some concerns, Minister, but I assure you that our primary goal is to maintain law and order in France. The attempted coup two years ago was a traumatic event for your country, and we're committed to helping you prevent anything like it from happening again."
Dumont's expression turned solemn, and he nodded gravely. "Yes, the coup was a dark time for our nation. But I'm afraid that your Hit Wizards are not making things easier for us. They're arresting people without proper authorization, and some of their methods have been... questionable, to say the least."
Harry felt a surge of defensiveness on Sirius's behalf, but he bit back his retort. He knew that Sirius was a skilled diplomat, and he trusted him to handle the situation.
"I apologize if our presence has caused any difficulties, Minister," Sirius said calmly. "However, I must remind you that our Hit Wizards are highly trained professionals who are committed to upholding the law. If there have been any... misunderstandings, I'm happy to work with your people to resolve them."
Dumont leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a hard light. "I'm afraid it's not just a matter of misunderstandings, Director Black. The fact is, our citizens are growing increasingly uneasy about the presence of foreign law enforcement on our soil. We need to take steps to reassure them that we're in control of our own country."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly do you propose we do, Minister?"
Dumont's smile returned, but this time it seemed more like a thin-lipped mask than a genuine expression of friendliness. "I'm afraid I must insist that you withdraw your Hit Wizards from France within the next fortnight. If you don't, we'll be forced to take... measures to protect our sovereignty."
Harry felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched the exchange. Something about Minister Dumont didn't sit well with him – perhaps it was the way he seemed to be enjoying the power play, or the calculating glint in his eye that suggested he was hiding something. Or maybe it was the case with all politicians because they all had something to hide, he told himself, unable to understand this uneasiness he felt at that admission.
He glanced around the room again, taking in the lavish decorations and the faint scent of cigar smoke that lingered in the air. He noticed a small, almost imperceptible tremble in LaFleur's hand as he gestured, and wondered if the Minister was as confident as he seemed.
As the meeting drew to a close, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to this encounter than met the eye. He glanced at Sirius, who was watching Dumont with an intensity that suggested he was thinking along similar lines. The game of cat and mouse had begun, and Harry had a feeling that the stakes were much higher than they initially seemed.
"I see," Sirius said finally, his voice calm and even. "We'll need to discuss this with the ICW, Minister. But I must warn you – withdrawing our Hit Wizards could have serious consequences for your country's security."
Dumont's smile never wavered. "I'm willing to take that risk, Director Black. After all, we can't have foreign agents running around our country, doing as they please. It's time for us to take control of our own affairs. I'm also confident that our Aurors can manage it from here."
This was the last of their little discussion and the meeting adjourned to until after the Minister had presented his argument to the ICW.
"That was weird," Harry commented, "Him being so snarky. Do all Ministers usually think so highly of themselves?"
Sirius chuckled. "Most don't have a leg to stand on, but France is a special case," he replied, just as the woman, the receptionist from earlier began walking towards them. "ICW has never put its nose into France's affairs until two years ago, and a lot has changed in their relationship since then."
"Pride, corruption and carelessness, you'd said to me once," Harry nodded. "After meeting Dumont, I feel like it could be all of them."
Sirius shrugged. "I'm not too concerned at this point. The worst that can happen is the country eventually falling to some communists."
Harry blew out a breath. "That sounds pretty bad."
"For them," Sirius agreed. "If both France and ICW agree that removing my Hit Wizards is the best course for them, then it's on their head."
Harry regarded his godfather thoughtfully.
"What?" Sirius asked.
"Nothing," Harry said, genuinely not able to put into words why that thought made him uneasy.
Sirius put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, when I came into this job, I realized for the first time that our world is quite small," the woman joined them then, and they began to walk towards the exit. Harry could see some familiarity in the way she accepted Sirius' arm and they strode together. "Our world is small but it's still comprised of the same idiots that the Muggles have in abundance," he continued, making the woman giggle, "I also realized that a lot of idiots run a lot of lives, and sometimes, they make mistakes and ruin those lives. That doesn't mean it's up to us to correct their stupidity."
Harry smiled drily. "We can't save everyone."
"No we can't. Nor should we attempt to," his godfather said firmly. "Not only is it not possible, it's also not advisable."
"Not advisable?"
"My grandfather used to say that there is no one more hated than he who speaks the truth and he who dispenses unsolicited help."
Harry swallowed as a memory of Hermione sparked to life, where she was fondly berating him for his 'saving people thing'.
He shook his head, taking his unusually wise godfather's advice to heart.
"What if it's not in your own hands?"
"We're only responsible for our own actions," Sirius said. "If the people of France elected to vote for a wizard like Dupont, then they should suffer the consequences of having him run and ruin their lives as he sees fit."
The woman coughed, her cheeks glowing red. Sirius grinned at her, speaking something in her ear that Harry couldn't hear.
"When did you become so wise, Sirius?"
His dogfather smirked. "I was always wise. Why do you think your parents are friends with me?"
Harry tried to keep a straight face. "Oh, I don't know about my Dad. But maybe my Mum had no choice as you and Dad were attached at the hip."
Sirius guffawed and then turned to him with a conspiring look.
"Say Harry," he said in a quiet voice, "Will you be fine exploring the Ministry on your own for say, a half-hour?"
Harry looked incredulous as his godfather snuck an arm around petite witch. "Please?"
He shook his head, not able to believe that this was really happening. And that he was going to go along with this farce, knowing Sirius would do the same for him if he had to.
"Of course, Padfoot," he looked at both of them and smiling, "But you owe me one."
In reply, he got a one armed hug and a loud, 'Done!' which caused his ear to ring as his godfather began to lead his witch in a different direction.
--_-- .
It had however only been ten minutes or so of wandering the grand Ministry when he had a weird feeling. It was a feeling that caused sudden goosebumps to rise on the back of his neck. It was a feeling that spelled danger.
He didn't know if it was for him or someone else but it began to nag at him in an insistent manner.
He began to march down a corridor and the feeling grew. Then, after he'd turned two hallways, he heard some raised voices and scuffling down from somewhere. He followed it with quickening paces.
He turned a corner and found himself facing a scene that made him almost flick his wand into his hand. There was a tall wizard in crisp dark robes of a high-ranking official, towering over a witch in a blue uniform, his face red with rage. He was shouting at her, his fists clenched, and Harry could see the fear in the woman's eyes.
But what really caught Harry's attention was when he raised his hand and slapped the witch across the face. The sound of the impact made Harry's stomach turn, and he knew he had to act fast.
As he approached, Harry pretended to stumble, using the distraction to get closer to the pair. "Oh, pardon," he muttered, as if he hadn't noticed them.
The wizard's head snapped towards him, his eyes narrowing. "Qui êtes-vous?" he growled, taking a step forward.
Harry held up his hands, feigning innocence. "Désolé, I didn't mean to intrude. I'm just... looking for the restroom."
The witch took advantage of the distraction to take a step back, her eyes darting towards Harry with a mixture of gratitude and wariness.
The wizard's gaze lingered on Harry, his expression darkening.
For a moment, the three of them stood there, the tension between them palpable. Harry could feel the ripple of disturbance in the air, a feeling that attuned him to the wizard's magic, heavy and barely controlled and quite extensive. He sensed that the witch felt it too, her eyes flicking to him.
He didn't like that her fearful eyes were practically begging him to leave them alone.
So, with a quick decision, Harry let his own magic go free, just a little and let Occlumency settle his raging emotions into cogent impassion.
The man's face twisted in anger, and he took another step forward, his fists clenched. But Harry stood his ground, his eyes locked on him and a cold expression on his face.
Then, without warning, the man spun around and stormed off down the corridor, leaving Harry alone with the witch. He took a breath and his Occlumency released its iron hold on his mind and magic.
"Are you alright?"
The witch nodded, breathing heavy and met his eyes in what looked like shame. "Merci," she whispered and turned away.
"Who was that man?" he asked but got no response as she turned down the corridor in quick steps, wiping at her face with her hands.
Harry didn't think it was wise to follow her so he simply retraced his steps, going back to the atrium to find Sirius and go home.
--__-- .
In the depths of the library, inside the section only admissible to the Potter family members because it contained books on family magic, Harry found his baby sister sitting in an armchair, conversing with the portraits of their grandparents.
With a cry of 'Harry' she ran over to him, jumping into his arms. Harry laughed.
"I haven't seen you in days!" she exclaimed, her big doe eyes wide in question.
"I'm sorry," he said apologetically, "I just came back from a trip with Sirius."
"A trip with that menace," Charlus Potter's deep, no-nonsense voice rumbled from his portrait. His sharp hazel eyes narrowed as he regarded Harry. "I hope he didn't fill your head with more of his idiotic Gryffindor bravado."
"Charlus!" Dorea Black Potter chastised her husband, her soft, lilting voice cutting through his gruffness. She turned her dark, almond-shaped eyes on Harry, a warm smile curving her lips. "Sirius is family. And don't listen to him, darling. We're thrilled you've come back to us safe."
"Thank you, Grandmother," Harry replied politely, still holding his sister tightly. He kissed the top of her head before setting her down. "And Grandfather, Sirius isn't all bad. He's a good man."
"And fun," Dorea quipped.
Charlus snorted, regarding his granddaughter with suspicion. "Good man or not, the last time he visited me, he spilled firewhisky on my portrait frame. Do you have any idea how hard it is to remove firewhisky from enchanted wood?"
Dorea giggled, her laughter bubbling like soft bells. "Don't mind him, Harry. He's been grumpy all morning."
"Grumpy?" Charlus muttered indignantly. "I'm merely stating facts, woman!"
Taking a seat in the armchair beside his sister, Harry smirked, exchanging a look with her as if to say, He's in that mood again?
Dorea climbed onto the arm of his chair, leaning against him as if he were a fortress she could always count on.
"Did you bring me anything from your trip?" she asked eagerly, tilting her head up to look at him.
Harry reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small wrapped box. "Of course I did. I wouldn't dare face you empty-handed."
Dorea squealed with excitement and snatched the box from his hand, her enthusiasm infectious. She tore at the wrapping paper with gusto, revealing a delicate bracelet made of silver and set with tiny emerald stones.
"It's beautiful!" she gasped, slipping it onto her wrist.
"It's enchanted," Harry said, his tone soft and affectionate. "It can store things. I'll show you how it works later."
Her wide eyes softened, and she hugged him tightly again. "Thank you, Harry."
Charlus cleared his throat, his expression grudgingly approving. "Not bad, Harry. Protective and thoughtful—Potter traits, through and through."
Dorea Potter chuckled from her portrait. "I think it's lovely, Harry. It suits her. You've got a good eye for these things."
"Unlike his father," Charlus quipped. "James once gave Lily a set of self-inking quills for her birthday. Called it practical."
Harry grinned. "Sounds about right."
Young Dorea leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "Grandfather, did you scold Dad for that?"
"Of course I did!" Charlus barked, his tone firm but with a twinkle of humour in his eyes. "Told him if he wanted to impress a witch, he'd better start thinking with his heart, not his head. Unfortunately, the boy's head was mostly full of Quidditch."
"And pranks," Harry added with a chuckle.
His grandmother laughed. "Ah, James. Always full of energy and trouble. But he has a good heart, just like you, Harry."
Harry's smile faltered slightly, an amalgamation of good and bad memories surfacing to the front of his mind. The bad ones from his old world, and the good ones from the current.
"None of that now," Dorea said firmly, her voice gentle yet commanding, her words telling Harry that she'd misinterpreted his demeanour. "You've come back to your family, and that says more about your heart than you realize. Forgiveness is a rare and powerful thing, Harry. Don't underestimate the strength it takes to offer it."
Charlus nodded, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "She's right, lad. Your parents were fools—idiotic, reckless fools—but they love you. And you've given them a second chance. That's no small thing."
Harry swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "I just... I didn't want my sisters and my brother growing up without me." He glanced at his little sister, who was listening intently. "They deserve better than that."
"You all deserve the best," Dorea Potter said softly, her gaze warm and full of pride.
Young Dorea reached over and grabbed Harry's hand, her small fingers curling around his. "I'm glad you came back, Harry. It's been so much better with you here."
He squeezed her hand gently, his voice thick with emotion. "Me too, little one. Me too."
Charlus cleared his throat again, his gruff demeanour returning. "Enough of this sentimental nonsense. It's your birthday, Harry. Shouldn't you be out celebrating or—Merlin forbid—relaxing for once?"
Harry chuckled, the weight in his chest lifting slightly. "I wanted to spend some time in the library first. Thought I'd check out a few books on family magic."
Dorea Potter's eyes lit up. "Oh, how wonderful! Have you started learning them yet?"
"Not yet," Harry admitted. "But I thought it was time I started. You never know when they might save your life."
Charlus grunted approvingly. "About time you took an interest in your heritage. The Potter line is one of the oldest and most respected in the wizarding world. It's your duty to uphold that legacy."
"Don't scare him off, Charlus," Dorea chided gently. "He's doing just fine."
Harry smiled. "I'll try not to let you down, Grandfather."
"See that you don't," Charlus replied, though his tone was softened by a hint of pride.
The younger Dorea looked up at Harry with wide, adoring eyes. "Can I help you with the family magic stuff?"
"Of course," Harry said, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I'll need someone smart to keep me on track."
She beamed, leaning into his side.
His grandmother watched them with a soft smile. "You remind me so much of your father when he was younger."
"Let's hope he is less cheeky than James was at his age," Charlus muttered, though his eyes betrayed his fondness.
Harry laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Not likely."
As the warm glow of the library lamps bathed the room in soft light, the four Potters—two alive, two preserved in magical paint—shared stories, laughter, and memories, the air filled with a sense of belonging and love that had been absent for far too long.
"We should head back Harry," Dorea tugged on his arm, standing up.
"Huh? What's the rush?"
She laughed. "Why, it's your birthday party, of course! And I want to help Mum with the preparations."
Harry looked on stupefied as he was pulled into one of the drawing rooms by his excited sister, not able to recognize his own home.