Chapter 18 - A Sign in the Air
Lying in his arms was a luxury she had never thought she'll ever have again, and yet, here she was, ensconced in his safe cocoon without a care in the world.
Her body ached in all the good ways, the moist warmth in her core a pleasant reminder of the love she'd gotten back through a curious but welcoming twist of fate. In the middle of their passionate joining earlier, she'd belatedly realized that even though she may be older in her mind, her body was still fifteen and thus very... er...unaccustomed to having such an experience.
She adjusted a little so that she could gaze at his resting visage again, now unencumbered by his growing locks. He needs a haircut, she thought to herself as she brushed the hair from his forehead.
Her heart swelled with love, her eyes filling with tears. She'd been such a naive little girl then, too high strung and too rational, deciding things with cold logic without heeding the emotions that were contained within, things that affected both of them, without even thinking how he may feel. She'd made so many mistakes before, wasted too much time overanalyzing everything, leading up to that black night.
He looks so peaceful.
Her eyes could never take him in enough. A memory she'd always cherished swam in her vision again and she sniffed. That night in the tent, the first time they'd danced together had become the first time she'd given herself to him so fully. It was only later, too late in her opinion, that she realized that she had also given herself to him irrevocably, and she'd done so much before they'd danced together.
Completely and irrevocably. That sounded good enough for a vow.
"You're staring," came a soft voice that made her smile.
He may not be the Harry she'd been so close to marrying in another life, but he was close enough. He may not be the one she'd gone on innumerable adventures on, but he was still her Harry. He may have lived a year less than the one she would have willingly walked up to Voldemort for, but he was still no less or else she would've never given herself to him.
It was like a void had been filled inside her. She felt complete.
"I love you," she said simply.
His face lit up with a smile. "As I love you," he replied.
The giddiness of hope she'd kept close to her chest under lock and key came bubbling forth.
"Truly?"
He simply kissed her then, their lips and tongues dancing with each other in a lazy and erotic fashion. When he pulled away, she was breathless.
"I've loved you for a while, Hermione, or at least I think I have," he gazed at her, his tone hesitant as if fearing her reaction.
Stupid boy, she thought fondly. There was nothing he could do that could make her mad. "I just didn't know how or what to say-"
A finger on his lips silenced his rambling. "It's not like you could get rid of me now, Mr. Potter," she joked. "You're stuck with me forever."
He didn't smile, only pulled her to his chest. Through the sound of his thudding heart, she heart a mumbled, wouldn't have it any other way, before she stilled and was lulled back to sleep beside the steady rhythm of his heart.
~~ .
"And why was that?" Harry heard his father demanding in a near bellow. He'd just left Hermione sleeping in the bedroom and entered the dining room to get something to eat.
Lily came up to him immediately. "Harry!" she said, her critical eyes inspecting him closely. He suppressed the urge to flinch like he always had with a healer like Madam Pomfrey. It was almost ingrained within him, that reaction to shy away from any touch that wasn't Hermione's.
"I'm okay, Mum," he said with a smile to which he received a hug in return. He relaxed into the now familiar arms. For sixteen years of his life in another world and another time, he'd never known what he was missing.
"You had us so worried," she spoke, guiding him to a sofa, and perching nearby. "Vivienne said something had taken a toll on your mind's magical channels."
He frowned. This was a topic that was completely unfamiliar to him.
"What do you mean?" he asked and then looked around to see his Dad and Bella glaring at a serene Mrs. Gauthier. "What's happening?"
Lily frowned. "Apparently, Mrs. Gauthier had prior knowledge of the attack on Hermione's home."
"What?"
He got up so suddenly that the teacup on the side table rattled. His Occlumency came on with full force, channeling his sudden anger into a calm, seething, and deadly force. "You knew?"
There must have been something in his voice that made his Dad wince and take a step away from Mrs. Gauthier just as he approached her.
When she nodded, he bore into her eyes for deceit. "Since when?"
He felt her magic then, a light, simmering and breezy wave of carefully controlled aura that was wrapped around her as a protective sheath. Her magic was wound quite carefully to show a calm and serene appearance, but had layers upon layers that was basically invisible to his senses.
Harry decided that he had no idea what dangers lay within her indecipherable magic, but that whatever it might may be, he could easily overpower her.
Mrs. Gauthier didn't lose her composure at all. "I've known about it for a week."
Bella snorted from behind her. "That's not it," she sneered at the witch. "She was the one who constructed the anti-apparation wards that blocked me from coming to your aid."
Harry's mind spun, connecting the dots.
"But Kreacher couldn't enter it too. Anti-apparition wards do not stop house elves," and then he paused, realization dawning on him like a chilly Scottish wind. "You saved her."
Mrs. Gauthier was chuckling. Her magic rippled. He looked at her in utter disbelief. Merlin, she really was amused!
"What?" Bella wasn't amused at all.
"You're a smart one, Mr. Potter," she said, and Harry didn't know what to respond to that. He just didn't know what to think. He needed time to think,.
"What is she saying, Harry?" James interrupted. "What did she do?"
Harry sat back down, looking from his Dad to Mum and then Bella.
"The Death Eaters weren't there to kill Hermione, they were there to kidnap her," he revealed. "Mrs. Gauthier's anti-apparition wards prevented them from kidnapping her from within her home and gave us the time to arrive to save her."
Lily looked speechless while James open and closed his mouth for a few seconds in disbelief.
"But why?" Bella asked coldly. "Why not tell us about the attack earlier? Why put our lives in danger?"
Mrs. Gauthier was undeterred. "It had to happen this way," she turned to Harry, "How did you kill those Death Eaters in the library, Mr. Potter?"
Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling that his life was once again being puppetered in a direction he didn't want to go.
He didn't like it all.
"What library?" Lily questioned.
Harry shook his head. "Three Death Eaters had Hermione and her father at wandpoint in the library of her home." Then he went on to describe everything that had happened in the few seconds that had been all it took to alter the course of the fight.
By the time he finished recounting every detail, Lily had an arm around him. "I'm sorry for letting you go there alone," she said worriedly. "I should've come with you and Sirius."
Harry shot her a smile. "It's okay, Mum. Everything worked out this time," and then he turned to the witch who knew too much but revealed too little. "What I do mean to ask Mrs. Gauthier is what she knows about all this," he finished with more than a hint of venom in his tone.
"You have unlocked a new magical ability, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Gauthier said as if talking about the weather, "I'm sure you'll make great use of it in the coming times," she looked at him and James, "I don't suppose you'll have memories of your grandfather's legendary battles with Grindelwald?"
James cleared his throat. "What's that got to do with what Harry did?"
"He could study it, see if it's an ability that he could find useful."
"Are you telling me that you let this attack happen just so Harry could have a new magical ability?" Bella said angrily. "I swear to Morgana, if you do not have a better answer for me right now, you'll see what happens to people on an hour long exposure to--"
"Bella!"
Mrs. Gauthier's demeanour didn't change. "You can do anything you like, Ms. Black, but I have nothing more to offer you. What needs to happen will happen, with or without my intervention," then she turned to Harry, "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. This was necessary, as I was told. I'm sorry to have put you and Ms. Granger's family in danger."
"You're sorry? Even if you don't have anything to offer, you expect us to leave you be?" James scoffed.
"How do we know if you're not going to do something like this again?" Lily asked. "And who told you to do this?"
Mrs. Gauthier. "A man. I don't know who," and then she sighed. "I can't offer you anything else," she repeated. "I suppose I can offer you a magical vow."
"That's not infallible," James muttered unhappily.
"Not any magical vow," Harry piped in, "An Unbreakable Vow," he was pleased to see Mrs. Gauthier's composure rattled for the first time since he'd seen her.
"An Unbreakab-are you sure?" she asked, her eyes wide in fear or surprise, he couldn't tell.
Harry shrugged, looking at his parents. Bella nodded at them. "You'll be our guest here until we decide. It's late, we should go to bed." Harry was sure it was her DMLE voice.
Her tone brook no argument, everyone knowing that there must be more questions for them to ask and for her to maybe answer.
~~ .
Hermione wasn't sure when she'd enjoyed herself this much. Coming to Potter Manor once again to meet with Rose and Dorea had seemed very perfunctory, and yet, this was probably the first time she was feeling as if she truly belonged among them.
Maybe it was because for the first time, she had her heart fully in it.
"Didn't he practice that charm before?"
Dorea giggled, shooting a glance at her sister. "He did. Perhaps he was nervous."
Hermione saw the mischievous smile on Rose and shook her head. "What did you do?"
Rose blinked. "Nothing."
Hermione gave her that disapproving look.
Rose smiled. "I just hinted to him that an extra flick was needed for the charm to work properly."
"And the poor boy ended up burning his homework."
Dorea burst into laughter. Rose raised her arm asking for a high-five but her little sister was too busy rolling on the carpeted floor like a maniac while Hermione was trying hard not to laugh at their antics.
"Did you at least repair his stuff later?"
"Of course! Who do you take me for?" Rose huffed. "I only did it because Creevy was being annoying again. And it was a good prank!"
Hermione rolled her eyes but allowed a chuckle. "I'm sure." Rose lit up.
Dorea was holding her stomach. "I sometimes think he does that annoying fangirling knowingly," she threw her sister a sly glance, "I think he fancies Rose."
Rose looked horrified. Hermione facepalmed.
"Don't even joke about this!"
Dorea only laughed harder. "Why would he follow you around so much then? He clearly likes you!" Rose threw a cushion at her.
"He does not! He's just being annoying!"
Hermione tried to mediate. "I'm sure he's just enthusiastic about you and John and doesn't mean to annoy anyone deliberately."
Rose, who had taken refuge on the sofa after hurling the cushion, crossed her arms and pouted. "He's enthusiastic about everything. But honestly, if he fancies anyone, it's John, not me."
Dorea snorted from her spot on the floor, still recovering from her fit of laughter. "Well, I can't argue with that. Creevy probably has a shrine for The Boy-Who-Lived somewhere in his room."
Hermione groaned. "Poor Colin. Let's not start rumors about the boy. He's just a fan."
"I'm sure Harry will get the same treatment once he sets foot in Hogwarts again," Dorea grinned. "He's also a celebrity now!"
Hermione wisely chose to remain silent on the issue.
Rose narrowed her eyes at Hermione, her mischievous grin creeping back into place. "Speaking of Harry…"
Hermione stiffened, immediately regretting her attempt to trade barbs with the two sisters. "What about him?"
Dorea perked up, suddenly very interested. "Yes, what about him?"
Rose and Dorea exchanged a conspiratorial glance, and Hermione knew she was doomed.
"You were in his room all night yesterday, weren't you?" Rose asked, leaning forward with a glint in her eye that made Hermione want to sink into the floor.
"I—what?" Hermione stammered, her face heating up instantly.
Dorea smirked, sitting up properly now. "Don't play coy, Hermione. The whole Manor knows you stayed in Grimmauld last night. In his room."
Hermione's hands flew up defensively. "It wasn't like that! I was just…helping him recover. After everything that happened."
Rose leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, so you were nursing him back to health? How noble of you."
Dorea snickered. "And you had to stay the whole night to make sure he was okay? How...thorough."
Hermione's blush deepened as she waved her hands in exasperation. "He was injured! I was just—keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't have any complications."
Rose tilted her head, pretending to be thoughtful. "Complications like what? Bad dreams? Or maybe he needed a bedtime story?"
Dorea burst into laughter again, while Hermione groaned loudly. "You two are impossible."
"We're curious, that's all," Dorea said innocently, though her smirk gave her away.
"And Harry is our brother," Rose added. "We're just making sure you're treating him well. You know, since you're spending all these late nights together."
Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Nothing happened," she mumbled through her fingers.
"Right," Rose said, drawing out the word in a tone that made it clear she didn't believe a single syllable. "And I suppose that nothing is why Harry was grinning like a Cheshire cat this morning."
Dorea gasped dramatically. "He was! Oh my, he totally was. I thought it was just because he had fully recovered, but now I'm not so sure."
Hermione's head snapped up. "He wasn't—I didn't—" She groaned again, flustered beyond words.
Rose and Dorea were now fully enjoying themselves, their teasing relentless.
Suddenly armed with an idea, Hermione turned sideways and shouted, "Harry!"
Getting up as if to go to him, she left the room in brisk steps, leaving the merciless sisters behind, their laughter still ringing in her ears, all while feeling in her body with every step that she took a gentle reminder of her last night's activities.
~~ .
Her nose was buried in a old tome when light but familiar footsteps broke her concentration.
Looking up, she saw Harry come to stand beside her with a smirk on his face. When he touched her shoulder, she shivered.
"Harry?"
But her question was discarded like the book that lay open in front of her as she felt his hands on her skin, already about to touch her breasts.
"What are you doing?" she whispered but never tried to stop him. His attentions got bolder.
When he squeezed gently, she moaned despite herself. "What do you think?"
"Someone will see us!" she hissed.
He didn't answer right away, choosing to take his time kneading her flesh. "You're complaining, and yet you're not chasing me away."
She would've huffed in protest if his hands hadn't been so insistent. But all she could do was moan desperately, trying to keep the sound low but failing miserably.
"Harry-your parents!" she protested but his hand was in her hair and his lips on her sensitive neck. "What will they th-"
His hand gently pushed through her lush locks, weaving and caressing and gripping all the way until she was arching herself into his other hand, jutting her chest even more into his grip, his control.
"I didn't hear a no," he said and she could just imagine him saying that with a smirk. She shivered, loving that confidence in him. She had always fancied him the most when he was being a leader, taking charge of dangerous situations when for all her brightness, logic failed her. Had she ever told him that?
But all her thoughts went out of the proverbial window when his lips closed down on hers in a needy, hungry and desirous kiss.
She had never been kissed like that, and last night had been all sweet and gentle and loving. But this was the opposite. It was as if he had transformed into a hungry monster here to devour her completely.
Her hands came up to wrap around his shoulders just as his descended down to pull her up to the desk, pushing her back against the top.
"Please..."
She didn't even know what she was asking for, but she did know that she didn't want him to stop. Ever.
As his lips travelled down her neck to her upper chest, releasing the first few buttons of her shirt, she gasped.
"Are we going to do it here?" she asked, trembling in his arms.
She felt a little self-conscious as all he did was peel her shirt off, quickly and completely, leaving her in just her bra.
He gave her a lopsided grin. "I'm going to fuck your brains out, Hermione." He said firmly, making her blush to the roots of her hair. "What? Gonna scold me for my language?"
She lifted a palm to strike his chest but he caught it mid-air and kissed it. She let out a shaky breath, her body burning with desire.
"But first," she looked at him, her eyes half-lidded, "I want to know if you're up for a challenge."
She could barely suppress a moan of exasperation. After teasing her like this in the middle of the library, he wanted to play? This boy was going to the death of her!
He smirked and her innate competitiveness flared brightly to life.
And then truth be told, she was still hazy as to what had transpired as barely a minute later, she was on her knees before him, responding to his absurdly domineering command, his unrepentant smirk and the almost painful grip that he had in her hair.
As took in the sight of his cock, something feral arose inside her. Preparing to finally take it in her mouth, as licked its base in a slow, lazy pattern that made it look even better from this close.
She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent deeply, preparing herself for the challenge as he called it. As much infuriating as he was being, making her blow him when every cell of her body was begging her to bury it deep into her in another hole, she liked this anyway.
Particularly because of his confidence. She loved it when he knew what he wanted and wasn't hesitant to take it.
"Take it, Hermione," he said roughly.
And she did. Closing her eyes as he pushed her down to his throbbing cock, her mouth filled with the unfamiliar taste, and yet, it wasn't all unwelcoming. She was panting as she tried to put all that she'd ever read to good use. All those hours of studying the different acts of pleasurable sex had to come in handy.
She let herself be freely lost in the sensation of being filled as Harry used her head as he saw fit, pushing her up and down and back and forth aggressively till the only sounds in the library were their sounds of their erotic joining.
She was almost too lost in her head as he spoke to her again. "Claire could do better," he said. Her eyes snapped open, a mix of anger and shock coming out from her in waves. She couldn't believe he'd said that! Compared her to that--that French tramp!
But she said nothing, only redoubled her efforts, suddenly reenergized and enraged that someone had her beat in pleasuring Harry. He was her best friend. The love of herlife. There was no one who deserved to be better at this than her!
She accepted the invasion of her throat without a flinch. It was a little uncomfortable, but not something she'd not come to enjoy once she'd had more experience. She wanted, nay, needed it to be spectacular for him.
Another teaching from a scandalous book came to the forefront of her mind and she gazed up to lock her eyes with his, and seeing the pleasure reflected within his green orbs did wonders to her self-confidence. She knew it was supposed to be more pleasurable for him, as it was for men, if she kept her eyes fixed on his.
As she gagged, since he was so big that he was almost spearing her throat, she liked that it was she who was winning it now. And she was enjoying it too.
"That's it, Hermione, take it," he said, his voice raspy, "You're going to be better at this than her, aren't you?"
Her lightheadedness was making her nod without fully understanding what he was saying, only that he was once again telling her to do better. When she pulled back until only his crown was in her mouth, she licked.
"I will do better," she repeated out loud but before she was ready, he pulled her back, his girth reshaping her mouth and then her throat, gripping her like there was no tomorrow.
"I wish I'd had the courage to do this before," he hissed and she shivered as his magic lashed out against her, with an almost palpable heat tingling her skin. She moaned. "So much time wasted because I was too afraid to tell you that I wanted you like this since the day you hugged me in Grimmauld."
Her body flushed once more as his shaft began to touch the back of her throat. She wanted to ask him when but all she could make was a gurgling sound that somehow, he seemed to love because he grunted and then began to piston in and out of her with even better dominance. She filed that observation away for later research.
As she used all her tongue to wrap around his head as it drooped something sticky and warm on her face, licking and tasting it, his grunt only became louder.
"You didn't send me a single letter that summer," he hissed. She frowned as her head swam, bringing forth memories of things that she'd began to regret long ago. That summer, she'd ignored him all due to Dumbledore's authority and it had hurt him. She had always berated herself for this and so much more when she'd come to realize how much her mindless, irrational trust in authority had hurt Harry.
"I had this plan in my mind," he grunted, "to make you beg for forgiveness when I was allowed to come see you again," he continued his ministrations, her eyes fixed on his in concentration, "But when I saw you, all I wanted to do was this."
She wanted to tell him she was sorry but her inability to mouth a word out loud didn't make him stop what he was doing, and she was thankful for it.
He pushed her down again and again as his voice left her hungry and dazed in sheer lust, almost on the brink of losing all rational thought as he treated her like she wanted, nay, she deserved to be treated, like a hungry bitch that could only be satisfied by his cock. Her muffled moans only goaded him further.
She was already being driven mad, but when one of his hands sneaked lower, and started squeezing her tits once more, she let go of everything and just wrapped her hands around his hips, gripping his arse like a vice and began to do what he'd been doing on his own so far. She wanted to show him, bring him pleasure, give him everything she'd ever wanted and nothing else mattered.
She'd never been treated like that in her life, and yet, she'd never been as happy too. Nobody had the right to her heart, her body and her soul like Harry did. And he deserved all of it and more.
Back in their fifth and sixth and even on the Horcrux hunt, she'd made so many excuses to not give in to her urges. To not pull him aside one day and kiss him. To not tell him what she wanted from him and what she wanted him to do to her. But no more.
She was about to lose herself in her pleasure while bringing him his own but to her mild annoyance, he was pulling her back till only his tip was dangling from her lips, making her gasp and look at him in question.
"Why did you hurt me so, Hermione?"
She blinked, still moving her lips to capture his crown. "Tell me?" His eyes darkened.
Not knowing or caring what to answer, she lunged to get her throat filled again, to have him inside her, and to taste him again. But all she could manage was the tip as his control over her head didn't let her. Her lightheadedness had almost reached a crescendo when he spoke again.
"You want it?"
She could only nod in delirium, no longer caring how or what he wanted to know but only that he was giving her what she needed.
Her cheeks were wet with a mixture of her saliva and some of his seed, and as she gazed up at him to beg him with her eyes again, he gave her a thin smile.
"Where do you want it?"
Her lips parted wide, she dove to have him inside her again, succeeding with a moan of appreciation just as he hit the back of her throat.
He'd left her to do what she wanted and she took the opportunity to have him as much as she physically could, using her arms to lock around his torso to bury her face in his groin.
"Alright, here it comes," he cajoled and she swirled her tongue around him as she waited. Soon, he was grunting and pouring down her throat in waves, jerking around her mouth as he spilled.
And then, before she could so anything other than smile, she was being cradled in his arms, curling into his chest as he took her back to a chair that felt so comfortable, relaxing for the first time in eternity, her heart singing.
~~ .
"Brother?"
Dorea was hugging him as soon as he came into the parlour. Harry was immediately alarmed.
"Dorea! What is it?" he asked but she shook her head, leading him by his hand to where Lily was sat.
"Mum?"
She pointed to the Wizarding Wireless sitting atop a circular table. He began to pay attention.
"--too many of them! They've already barricaded the windows but there's nowhere to go! Apparition points are too far away from shops! We're doomed unle--
"Dementors in Diagon Alley," Lily said, worry marring her face, "The Ministry is fighting it but Dumbledore's away and there's too-"
Harry felt a pang of anger bubble up in his chest. "I should go help."
Lily's cradled his face in her palms, "You don't have to, Harry," she said, "It's not your job."
Harry gently pulled Lily's hands away from his face, his resolve already hardening. "It may not be my job, Mum," he said, his voice steady but filled with quiet determination, "but it's the right thing to do. Those people—families, children—they need help."
Lily's green eyes, so much like his own, searched his face. He could see the conflict there. She was torn between the protective instincts of a mother and the deep understanding that her son was no ordinary man. He was Harry Potter, and standing by while others suffered was not something he could ever do.
"You're just one person, Harry," Lily said softly, though she didn't sound like she believed her own argument.
Dorea, still clutching his hand, looked up at him, her wide eyes shining with tears. "Do you really have to go, brother?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Harry crouched down to her level, placing both hands on her small shoulders. "You're my brave little sister, aren't you, Dorea?" he said gently, using the nickname that only he called her. "You know I can't just sit here when people are in danger."
"But what if you get hurt?" she asked, her lower lip quivering.
"They can't hurt me," Harry said firmly, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "I promise you, I'll come back. Safe and healthy. Promise."
Dorea nodded hesitantly, though the fear in her eyes remained.
"You've faced worse," Lily said finally, her voice low but steady. "But still..." She trailed off, swallowing hard.
Harry nodded firmly, already planning his entry. "Mum, I'll be alright," he said. "I've trained for this. You, Dad, Sirius, Bella—they've all helped me prepare for this. And you know I'm not alone. The Ministry's there, and I promise I'll be careful."
Lily stood and placed a hand on his cheek again, her fingers trembling slightly. "No unnecessary risks, alright?"
"I promise," Harry said again, though he knew deep down that sometimes the risks weren't a choice.
Lily nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Go then," she said softly. "And come back to us."
Harry leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then turned to Dorea and pulled her into a tight hug. "Take care of Mum for me, alright?" he whispered to her.
Dorea nodded into his chest, her small arms squeezing him tightly. "You take care of yourself too," she said, her voice muffled.
"I will," he promised, stepping back.
Without another word, Harry turned and strode to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder, threw it into the flames, and stepped into the swirling green vortex. "Diagon Alley!" he called out, and in an instant, he was gone.
"We need to teach him how to apparate soon," Lily muttered to herself as he vanished.
~~ .
The moment Harry stepped out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, he was hit with the sound of chaos. Screams echoed through the air, punctuated by the bone-chilling rattling breaths of Dementors. The normally bustling alley was eerily dark, the sunlight seemingly swallowed by the oppressive presence of the creatures.
As he looked around, surveying the scene, he realized that the people on the Wireless had been right. There were just too many of them!
Shattered glass crunched beneath his boots as he stepped out into the open, his wand already in his hand. Shops that once sparkled with magical goods were now in disarray, their windows broken and signs hanging askew. Shadows moved unnaturally in the dim light, and Harry could see figures darting between the ruins—people desperately trying to evade their attackers.
His stomach churned at the sight of a young boy, no older than ten, huddled with his mother behind the half-smashed door of a shop he recognized to be an Apothecary. The boy's face was pale, his eyes wide with terror as a Dementor glided closer, its rotted hands reaching out.
Harry didn't think twice. He raised his wand, his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his chest. "Expecto Patronum!"
A brilliant majestic silver stag erupted from the tip of his wand, its light piercing the darkness like a beacon. It charged forward, antlers lowered, and the Dementor recoiled, its skeletal frame retreating as if burned by the light. The boy and his mother stared in awe as the Patronus circled them protectively.
Harry knelt by them briefly. "Get to the Leaky Cauldron," he urged. "Stay there until it's safe."
The mother nodded frantically, grabbing her son's hand and pulling him toward safety.
Looking up, he felt his anger flare up again as he observed the mark of Lord Voldemort hanging threateningly in the sky, as if the signal of the times to come.
He stood, his eyes scanning the alley. There were at least a dozen Dementors, their numbers made more uncanny by the presence of a handful of Death Eaters, cheering among the chaos.
He saw the telltale flashes of dark robes and the glint of masks as spells flew through the air, exploding against walls and scattering debris.
Just then a bright red menacing spell tore through the smoke and he ducked to the ground just in time to hear another shout.
"IT'S POTTER!"
His eyes took in the group that were clearing the distance in large, determined strides.
"Let's see what we have her--a Potter brat!" someone cooed.
"Come to die!" The group burst into jeers.
A smirk began to form on Harry's lips.
Chapter 19 - Strategic Consequences
When some of the greatest magical historians in 1997 AD will be finally allowed an interview with the enigmatic Man-Who-Won, they'll come to know that this was the day that the reckoning of the wizarding world began.
They'll know that for everyone who pronounced that it began from the day of the Quidditch Final, from the relatives of the people who saw Him save their loved ones from the wrath of the Dark Lord, or from the newspapers around the world who witnessed their citizens fighting in an unknown battleground, or from the people who had lost their entire families to the self-styled Lord Voldemort, were all mistaken.
The downfall of the most terrible Dark Lord in Britain's history and a new dawn for the magicals all throughout the European continent had begun on this day when the Man-Who-Won, or rather the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, as many would say, used lethal force for the first time.
They were all terrorists, really, and He'd started a movement, flared a hope in the hearts of every innocent magical throughout the country that such things will not be tolerated anymore. And that they didn't have to take it lying down or flee from such insects. They had to have the will to fight and support those who could with their heart and galleons.
It didn't matter that most in the Wizengamot will not only shy away from His methods, but also actively try to persecute Him, but as they will slowly come to understand, this had been necessary. For peace, for harmony, for the greater good.
This was the first domino that had to be fell.
~~ .
The air was thick with magic, the discharge from the Dementors' chilly, abominable influence on the helpless people in the Alley, the curses that were flying about in the midst of all by a handful of men in masks who were taunting the Ministry Aurors, who had no solution for the tragedy happening before their eyes and the Patronus flying about attacking the wraiths had all made it feel as if a ley-line had opened up in the middle of the Alley.
It wasn't long before Harry found himself surrounded by at least six men in hoods and masks.
"THE SLYTHERIN POTTER! RUSHING IN LIKE A GRYFFINDOR!"
He looked at the Alley to see his patronus still doing its job in driving away the soul suckers and then at the wizards who were taking their sweet time in mocking and sneering at him.
"DIDN'T DO YOU MUCH GOOD EH?!"
"RUSH LIKE A HERO, DIE LIKE A BLOOD-TRAITOR!"
A laughter bubbled up inside him, escaping his lips in a rhapsody of giggles. They were funny, for someone who were on their deathbed.
The wizards around him stopped laughing.
"LOOKS LIKE HE'S GONE AROUND THE BEND!"
"THE POTTER BOY IS LOONY!"
They jeered again but this time, it wasn't cut off by Harry's giggles at their taunts.
He brought his wand up over his shoulder, not even looking at the man standing directly behind him and a Death Eater's torso exploded, abolishing all laughter around from his comrades.
A second of ominous silence followed as Harry stood up, looking each one of them in the eye as their wands began to glow.
"DIE POTTER!"
A crimson barrier materialized in front of him, absorbing all of their spells as if they'd been cast by an unruly child. Harry did feel the impact of such heavy spellwork, and the magic that had flown at him, all dark and malicious had been immense.
And then he moved.
A witch watching from the safety of a barricaded shop, a barricade that she'd not thought to remove since the days of the First Blood War, saw it all happen but none of the locals, the Aurors of from the paper would believe her. But she knew what she had seen was right. She wasn't dreaming, for Merlin's sake!
With Quidditch reflexes honed in just for this, Harry slipped in between two of the men just as he saw a lull in their casting. Eight spells had come crashing down on him, stopped by his shield and then there was a second in which they blinked and tried to muster up more magic for their next spell.
It was that second that gave him the chance.
And then it was pure slaughter.
His bone breakers caught two of them in the jaw, and he waved his wand in an arc, standing behind a man who could barely react in time for both his partners in crime go down in shower of gore.
"NO YOU DON--"
They were now firing at their own comrade, and Harry didn't deign to set up a shield to spare him their advances.
At least four curses struck the Death Eater in front of him before he waved his wand in an arc, bringing a whip of fire and striking three hooded men, cleaving their body into six parts.
In one moment, they were screaming bloody murder at him and in the next, there was just silence.
He stepped out in front to remove all of their masks one by one, not recognizing anyone. They had died as horrifically as they'd made innocents suffer. Served them right. He couldn't dredge an ounce of remorse from within him, and looking at their faces lying scattered around the scorched ground, all he could truly feel was grim satisfaction.
Just as he was turning to go save another shop from burning, he felt a deep foreboding erupt within him and without thinking, he lunged straight for the ground.
The malevolent green curse, one that he'd seen one too many times in his nightmares, sailed over him and he cursed inwardly. Stopping to admire his work in a battlefield was an assured way to get killed!
A large assortment of butterflies burst forth from his wand then, absorbing a flurry of curses aimed in his general direction.
"Harry!" came a familiar voice from where the Ministry was busy containing a fire.
There was still more work to do.
~~ .
Rufus wasn't sure why he felt so irritated at the present moment, apart from the very real aftermath of the attack on the biggest wizarding district in the country, but his temper was on boiling point.
Not only had he received a direct mandate from the Head of the DMLE that they had to wrap up the investigation within forty-eight hours, Bellatrix Black had also somehow convinced all his Aurors to keep her precious Dark wizard masquerading as her godson's activities quiet.
But it wasn't going to be so, he was going to make sure of it.
And that why he was on the doorsteps to the Daily Prophet, walking up to the Editor in a fury that made sure he wasn't stopped by anyone, let alone his moronic secretary.
"Cuffe!" he barked as soon as he was let into the office. The air inside felt too stale for his liking, almost as if the man opened his windows only once a week. Smells of inks and bundles of parchment were strewn all over a corner while the shelf to the right of the desk was in such a bad disrepair that it looked like it would keel over anytime.
But he wasn't here to criticize the indecorous surroundings.
"Rufus, my friend!" Barnabus Cuffe chortled, directing him to a seat. "Have a seat! How can I hel-"
"I prefer to stand," Rufus cut him off brusquely. "I want to make sure that you're printing the correct things about tonight's attack on Diagon Alley."
The bespectacled man peered over at him over his glasses, sitting back in his chair. "Correct things?" his voice was light and neutral, not conveying anything other than curiosity.
Rufus tried hard not to sneer at the fat man. "I have it good authority that Harry Potter was present during the attack. I want you to make sure you print every spell he used in murdering people," he produced a parchment from within his robes. "This is a list of his spell choices. I think you'll find that every one of them is inherently dark and conveys a rather ghastly picture of the boy."
The man in the chair made no effort to take the parchment. "Why do you think we should print this, Rufus?"
The Head Auror's eyes took on a steely glint. "We need the public on our side. This cannot go unpunished!"
The portly man laughed. Rufus looked at him like he'd gone mental.
"You think the public wants you to persecute this boy--man, who saved them from the Death Eaters?"
Rufus seethed. "I don't want to know what the public thinks!" he spat. "I want you to print the truth and let them see for themselves that the boy is not a hero!"
Cuffe clucked his tongue, looking mildly annoyed. "I canprint this, of course," he offered. "But don't expect me or anyone in my employment to go ahead with a smear campaign against the boy."
"Why not?"
The Editor sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "It's just not possible."
"You'll tell me why!" Rufus demanded. "Did they threaten you?!"
Cuffe shook his head. "No, they simply bought the company."
Rufus was startled. "What?"
"The Potters own the majority share in the Prophet. My hands are tied."
"I see," Rufus looked like he wanted to curse the man, completely disregarding the fact it wasn't his doing. "What can be done then?"
Cuffe scoffed. "Nothing. And even if I do print these spell choices and let everyone know that Harry Potter is a dark wizard in training, it won't change the fact that the boy did save a lot of people."
Rufus opened his mouth in protest but Cuffe cut him off, "You should let this rest, Rufus. It isn't worth it."
The Head Auror simply turned on his heel and exited the room, no longer able to take in the dirty air and the stupid opinions of people who were so easily bought.
~~ .
Harry didn't know what had made Bella leave the fight so prematurely but he did feel that it must be serious. A second of sheer panic had marred her face before she'd quickly disapparated in a hurry.
He'd just finished dispatching the last Death Eater when the Aurors seemed to want to take over, probably not knowing how to behave in the presence of a Hogwarts schoolboy, who also happened to be a family member of their Head of Department.
Scanning their faces for any hint of enmity, he found that most had simply regarded him with either apprehension or confusion and only a minority looked like they were soon going to be holding a grudge.
He snorted to himself. They'd also have conveniently forgotten his help, if not for his godmother.
A dark-haired witch stepped by him to ask him some questions and he tried to answer them with as much patience as could muster but it was only for a few minutes.
He was then quickly making his excuses and making his way to the Leaky Couldron to make his way back to Potter Manor. He had an urge to go directly to the Ministry to see what had made Bella panic, at least that's where he thought Bella might've gone, but at the last minute, thought that his family might find it easier to breathe if they'd at least seen that he was safe and sound.
So he retreated his steps back to the parlour where he'd left his Mum and Dorea sitting to find that it now contained the entire family.
For a second he just stood at the threshold to the entrance, peeping in to see the anxious and even fearful faces of his family.
His family. It still sounded so foreign to him. He was never going to get tired of seeing his family. Especially when they're so genuinely concerned for him like no one else had ever been, except Hermione. In hindsight, even Ron always seemed to have felt more jealous of what he was going through than afraid that he might just get hurt or worse.
As if he'd had any choice in things that happened to him!He felt bitter as he reflected.
He'd spent too long pandering to people who'd never cared about him in the first place.
This world continued to teach him to do better and he was following his instincts better than he'd ever had before.
His sisters were sitting on a loveseat, leaning on each other for support while Lily sat closely. James was standing beside the hearth, pacing while John was looking out of the window.
"Mum, Dad," he called out but he needn't have bothered because they were soon congregating around him while Rose and Dorea clung to him, his baby sister sobbing into his shirt. She really was a sensitive girl, he thought fondly to himself.
He felt a sudden burst of love and protectiveness for her as he hugged her back, vowing to do everything he could to be there for her.
"You're okay?" Lily was scanning him from head to toe, looking for injuries.
He nodded, smiling, and he saw James relax while John gave him a small smile, also looking relieved.
"I killed a few Death Eaters, many fled though," he said with a frown. "Bella and her Aurors were there so I wasn't exactly alone."
James ruffled his hair, patting his back. "I was going to join you but your mother threatened me to stay," he joked making him laugh.
"You're don't have to be a fighter, Dad," Harry said gently, "I know I can depend on you if there ever was one, but I don't ever want you in a fight that you didn't start on your own terms."
"And you are?" John asked neutrally, "A fighter, I mean?"
Harry nodded firmly. "I have trained for this. And I know their weaknesses."
"How?" Rose questioned.
"I've lived in Slytherin for three years," Harry shrugged, hating that he had to lie but knowing that there was no way around it. "I have come to understand how these...animalsthink and operate." he became thoughtful. "Sometimes, I feel as if I know them better than they know themselves."
There was a lull in conversation for a few moments as they settled around while Julius served some tea and sandwiches for everyone. Harry picked up a full plate for himself, feeling peckish.
"This is going to keep happening, isn't it?" Dorea asked, sniffing.
James was grim as he answered. "Death Eaters in the first war were always unpredictable."
Harry put an arm around her as he turned to his James. "They'll have the taste of their own medicine from now on," he said firmly. "We aren't going to be using stunners this time around."
Lily frowned. "There will be political fallouts."
"We can fight it on both fronts," James said with a determined face. "The Family has a lot of influence."
Harry nodded, liking that his Dad had a plan. "And we have the Minister on our side."
Lily shook her head. "Amelia isn't exactly on our side."
"What do you mean?" he thought that that was one thing they didn't have to worry about. This time around.
"Amelia is somewhat of a wildcard," Lily admitted. "She's a good woman, fighting for the right side. However, she may or may not agree with our methods."
Harry was troubled at this revelation. "But Sirius implied that..." he trailed off, not knowing how to word what his godfather had said in the presence of his innocent sisters.
But his parents understood what he was trying to say. "Sirius has a lot of influence with Amelia, but it's a bit...intermittent."
Lily nodded. "He is able to influence her a lot," she said, biting her lip in a fashion that was very reminiscent of Hermione's habit, "But that's not to say that she doesn't have a mind of her own."
"When it comes to the law, Amelia Bones is a straight arrow," James butt in, "Sometimes though, she can be a bit too straight in things that require a little flexibility."
Harry didn't like this implication at all. He'd already left a world that had a Minister who was too easily swayed by people like Malfoy. Now, was he in a world where the Minister was so rigid that she didn't listen to anyone?
James might've noticed his demeanour because he was quick to reassure him. "Don't worry about these things, Harry," he placated confidently. "This is my area of expertise. It is time that the Wizengamot got a kick up its arse. It's been sitting twiddling its thumbs for too long, and now that we seem to have gotten a Dark Lord problem once more, I'm sure we can get some things streamlined."
Lily kissed her husband's cheek, smiling. "Spoken exactly like your father."
Harry exchanged an amused glance with his Rose while John looked exasperated. It didn't matter how old they got, their parents still behaved as if they'd been just married.
And even though he may portray an outward amusement at their antics, inwardly, he felt content. After all, which kid didn't like his parents being so much in love with each other?
Just then a rather large serpent patronus came flying through the window, landing in front of him.
~~ .
The floor reserved for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement looked extremely chaotic as Harry almost crashed into multiple people as soon as he exited the lift.
Dozens of paper birds and planes were flying all around the open space that was littered with desks containing hundreds of Aurors. People were milling around, running to and from desks, hallways and offices and overall, it felt as he had stepped into perhaps the most happening section of the Ministry of Magic.
He passed through the desks, most witches and wizards just too busy to pay him any attention. A few caught his eye but didn't try to approach him, and someone in distance even waved at him which he found odd. Maybe they'd been in the Alley earlier?
He approached the hallway which had a desk with a witch arranging some files. "Is Madam Black in her office?"
The question made the witch startle and she looked up, frowning. "Do you have an appointment?"
"I'm Harry Potter," he said smoothly, knowing that Bella wasn't going to turn him away for showing up unannounced, "She's expecting me."
The witch nodded but didn't stop him as he continued on his way. He barely paid another glance to the unremarkable witch as he was knocking on the glass door to office of the Director.
"Harry! Come in!"
He entered a room that was every bit the embodiment of power and authority. The dark oak walls were adorned with elegantly framed certificates and photographs, many of them showcasing Bella's victories in duelling championships over the years. A polished set of duelling trophies gleamed on a shelf, their intricate engravings a testament to her skill. Behind her desk, an enormous tapestry depicting an ancient wizarding duel hung, its vibrant threads seeming to shimmer faintly as if the figures might spring to life at any moment.
Bella herself sat behind the desk, her presence commanding the space in a way that he guessed only she could. Her sharp, regal features were marred by the knitting of her eyebrows, reflecting her gloomy mood, and it was softened only slightly by the hint of a smile as she beckoned him to sit.
"What happened, Bella? Your patronus had nothing but that you're expecting more trouble at the Ministry. I came as soon as I could."
Bella exhaled deeply, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands in front of her. "Something worse has happened," She paused. "And you're one of the only people I can trust with it." Her fingers drumming on her desk, she leaned forward. "The attack on Diagon Alley—was horrifying—but it was a diversion. It seems that someone used the chaos to cover up another operation."
Harry's brow furrowed. Alarmed, he was having a gut feeling that this was bad. "What kind of operation?"
Bella hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone cold. "During the attack, several prisoners in the West DMLE jail were killed. The way it was done, quick and calculated with the Killing curse, makes it clear that this was an execution."
Harry felt a cold chill run down his spine. "Who knew abo--wait who had access to those jail cells?"
"Only fifteen people, myself, Rufus, and other Auror guards," Bella confirmed grimly. "But that's not all that worries me. I know now that this wasn't just about silencing people. It's clear that someone I trust has been compromised and may have access to much more confidential information that just can't be leaked at this time of the year."
Harry's jaw tightened, his brain easily connecting the dots. "Quidditch Cup security?"
She nodded. "It's the only explanation that makes sense. And Harry…" She paused, her voice softening slightly. "Among the prisoners killed was Lord Greengrass."
Harry blinked, the name hitting him like a blow. "Daphne's father?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. This was turning out to be nightmare. "But why wasn't he released yet?"
She sighed, clearly annoyed at the situation than anything else. "He couldn't be released, not when he had multiple Lords still demanding a trial in front of the full session of the Wizengamot. Rufus and I thought keeping him here was much kinder than Azkaban. We had a trial set for the day after the finals." She pinched her nose, "Clearly, it was the wrong decision."
"The Minister knows?"
Bella shook her head. "Not yet. I need to investigate it. And I know now that I can't rely on anyone else."
"I'll help," he offered without hesitation. "But the semi-finals of the Cup begin the day after tomorrow."
"I know! There is no time to change anything in the security arrangements, and even if I could, Amelia wouldn't let me."
She held her head in her hands as she stood up and came to lean against the desk beside him.
"We need to catch this...double-agent by tomorrow."
When Bella didn't say anything, he plowed on. "The Cup cannot be compromised so easily, not when we can do something about it."
"Short of dosing all of them bar Rufus with Veritaserum, there is nothing that can be done in a jiffy," she huffed. "Which needs the Minister's special permit."
"You think she'll be opposed to it?"
Bella shrugged, her expression cold. "I don't know but I don't care. She'll give me the permission or I'll call an emergency session of the Wizengamot tomorrow evening and tell them that the event has clearly been compromised and there's nothing we can do about it."
"You already have some suspicions, didn't you, from before?" he asked after a moment of silence in which Bella tapped some parchments with her wand, making them contort into the shape of a plane and go flying out of the door.
Bella shook her head. "I had some suspects in mind. But the people who had access to those cells aren't any of them."
Harry sat back in his chair, his hands resting comfortably upon the cushioned arms of the chair. "You said Rufus can't be questioned under the truth serum?"
She nodded. "The Head of Aurors has a Level 4 Privilege. Which means I cannot do as I wish without at least a third of the Wizengamot agreeing to it," she revealed. "Not that I don't trust him. He may be a cranky bastard but he's a patriot."
Harry didn't like it but he supposed that Bella may have a better idea of the character of the Head Auror than him. "And the Aurors?"
"They're fair game," she said sharply.
Harry sighed. "Do you need me to legilimize anyone?"
Bella made a face. "I can't, until at least I can have Amelia agreeing to the truth serum. If I don't, then we might need to take harsher measures."
He nodded, knowing there was nothing he could do to help at this time. Things were spiralling too far out of control in a way he could never predict. None of them could. But then he stilled.
*He knew someone who just might have some ideas about the future!
Then he remembered something else. Something even more pertinent and terrible. "Has Lord Greengrass' family been notified?"
Bella grimaced. "I don't think I've written a more disheartening letter in my life," she admitted. "And in the end it's all my fault."
Harry bristled. "No it's not," he said firmly, with not a small amount of rancour. "It's the fault of whoever has turned traitor in your department. You had no way of knowing or predicting this."
Bella turned away. "I'm the Head of the Department. The prisoners are my responsibility."
"So is a hundred other things! So what?!" Harry shook his head, walking up to her and putting a hand on her arm. "It doesn't matter. You can't be everywhere at once. Do not blame yourself, Bella."
She said nothing.
Harry felt that he needed to switch tactics a little. He'd suffered so many tragedies in his short life that he didn't even feel an ounce of regret in uttering the next few sentences out loud. "Besides, it's not like you put anyone undeserving in those jail cells," that made Bella look at him in surprise and he cheered inwardly, "Everyone who was in those cells was a criminal, one way or another. It doesn't change the fact that some of them may have been shipped to Azkaban sooner or later. What happened may be regrettable and disheartening and even alarming but that doesn't change the fact that they were criminals."
She was staring at him with her mouth agape. He didn't stop. "You shouldn't beat yourself up over this. Finding the traitor is your only priority. Guilt solves nothing."
"Harry..." she began but paused, staring at him as if she was seeing him in a new light. "Wha--how are you so--" she shook her head. "What has happened to you?"
He didn't shy away from her searching gaze. "I am still the same Harry, only a little more smarter and practical." He shrugged. "Fighting Death Eaters who have no qualms killing innocent people gives you a lot to think."
She looked doubtful and he didn't blame her. "Will you tell me if something is bothering you?"
A lot of things were bothering him, Harry thought. But a large fraction of them couldn't be revealed to anyone. "I will," he smiled, touched by her concern. He swore he was never going to get used to being on the receiving end of love and care. "But please, don't feel so guilty over this, Bella."
She said nothing, only moved forward to embrace him. He found that the hug ended way too soon, and then he cursed his infernal hormones for being so ill timed.
"I'll get going, but please let me know how I can help," he said to which she promised that she will. She did have a lot of work to do.
~~ .
Daphne didn't think that she could take it anymore.
Grief came up to swallow her and then spit her back up to make her relive every single happy memory of her father before creeping up on her again as she recalled his peaceful face lying there on the cold table as she walked back from the morgue in a daze.
She couldn't think anymore. Too much had happened in too short a time and she didn't feel like she was living her own life anymore. Otherwise how could her fate and her family's fate could've deteriorated to this extent?
Only the thoughts of her little sister held her back from giving in and collapsing right there on the floor. She had to be strong, if only for Astoria's sake.
"Greengrass?"
A voice, one she'd begun to hear much more than she'd ever had before, even in her sleep, caused her to blink her tears away to focus.
"Potter," she said, uncaring about the state in which she might appear. He'd already seen everything after all.
"I'm sorry," he muttered and she choked back a sob. "I heard about the attack."
She could do nothing more than nod. She had nothing to say.
He looked uncomfortable. She couldn't understand why.
"If there is anything you need," he said, his tone gentle, "Anything at all, please write to me. I'll take care of it."
She let out a shaky breath, gulping the first five barbs that came to the front of her cynical mind. He was only trying to help! she told herself.
"Thank you," she said without feeling. She didn't think she was capable of anything more.
He nodded. "I'll take you back to your family."
She didn't protest, choosing to walk behind him. Her mind was stuck on how was she was going to have to break the news to Tori, or how will she console her if her mother had already done that.
A bitter laughter bubbled up within her. She glanced to her side and swore that fate must be laughing at her right now. Here she was, seeking condolences and even a promise of future help from the one person who she'd never imagined would ever play even a minor role in her life, and yet, he was the one, the only one, around whom her entire life now revolved.
Her father was gone.
~~ .
Draco Malfoy sat stiffly in his chair near the middle of the long obsidian table, trying to exude calm despite the unspeakable tension in the room. He kept his face carefully blank, but his heart thundered in his chest.
He was no fool; he knew what these gatherings meant. Tom Marvolo Riddle—young, handsome, and infinitely dangerous Dark Lord—did not assemble his inner circle for idle chatter.
Around him, the most elite Death Eaters sat in various states of unease. Some tried to look collected, others fidgeted with trembling hands or avoided eye contact altogether. Some, like Dolohov and Carrow, seemed almost intoxicated by the tension, their wild eyes flicking between Riddle and the rest of the room as if they could hardly contain themselves.
Draco's father sat next to him, his silver hair immaculate, his posture rigid with pride, but even then his mask of composure wasn't flawless. Draco noted the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his fingers rested just a little too tightly on the arm of his chair.
And then there was Tom.
At the head of the table, he sat with effortless poise, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of his lips. His dark eyes glinted in the flickering light of the blue flames floating above, and every movement he made, no matter how small, commanded attention. His fingers tapped idly on the armrest of his chair, the sound like a ticking clock counting down to something inevitable.
Draco hated the way Riddle's presence made him feel. Small. Insignificant. But at the same time, he couldn't look away. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you want to impress him, to be noticed by him. Even when that notice could be a death sentence.
But he did have something to prove. A lot to prove if his father had not succeeded in winning His favour.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. No one dared to speak until the Dark Lord did. And when his voice finally broke the quiet, low and almost conversational, it sent a shiver down Draco's spine.
"You all know why we're here." Riddle's gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, and every member of the Inner Circle sat a little straighter, all twenty-four of them. "The Potters," he said, letting the name hang in the air like a curse. "James and Lily."
Draco watched as his father shifted slightly in his seat, his face carefully neutral. Others were less composed; Nott had visibly paled, his hands twitching at his sides.
"They have been... inconvenient," Riddle continued, his tone smooth but cold. "Defiant. Elusive. But no longer. I want them removed before our...celebration." He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled before him. "And I want the best for the job, Cantankerous."
Nott flinched at the sound of his name. His voice, when he answered, was shaky. "M-my Lord?"
"You once boasted of knowing the finest assassins in the magical world," Riddle said, his tone almost lazy, though his eyes were anything but. "Tell me, who do you recommend for this task?"
Draco's breath hitched as all eyes turned to Nott, whose pallor had turned ashen. "M-my Lord," he stammered, "the best wand-for-hires... they were all... killed. Decades ago. In that village massacre. My father told me so."
The silence that followed was deafening. Draco could feel the pressure in the room ratchet up another notch, a tight, choking thing that made it hard to breathe. Riddle's expression didn't change, but the air around him seemed to grow colder.
"Is that so?" Riddle said softly, rising from his chair with a fluid grace. He began to pace around the table, his footsteps eerily quiet. Draco's eyes followed him, unable to look away, even as his stomach churned.
When Riddle stopped behind Nott, placing a hand lightly on the man's shoulder, Draco waited in horrified fascination. The older man looked as though he might faint, his face shining with sweat.
"You see," the Dark Lord murmured, his voice carrying effortlessly in the stillness of the room, "I do not tolerate failure. Nor do I accept excuses. But I am merciful." His hand tightened on Nott's shoulder, and the man winced. "I will allow you to make this mission possible. Find me names, Cantankerous. Anyone competent to do the job. Or your... inadequacy will become a lesson to the rest."
"Yes, my Lord," Nott gasped, nodding frantically.
Riddle released him and returned to his seat, his movements as smooth and deliberate as a predator settling back into his den. "Now," he said, addressing the rest of the room, "as for the Potters, I want them dead. No mistakes. No delays. But the child... the child must live. He is... important."
The room was deathly silent, save for the faint crackle of the blue flames above. Draco's mind raced. The child? John Potter! Of course the Dark Lord wanted to deal with him himself. It was only right.
"And one more thing," Riddle said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, "there is... another Potter boy. The spare. Someone must keep an eye on him. Someone who can... distract him. I've heard he's killed a few of our men now."
Draco's heart leapt. This was it. His chance to prove himself, to show that he was more than just Lucius Malfoy's son. He straightened in his chair, his hand twitching as if to raise it before he caught himself.
"My Lord," he said, his voice steady despite the way his pulse was hammering in his ears. "I can do it."
Riddle's gaze snapped to him, sharp and calculating. For a moment, Draco thought he'd made a terrible mistake. But then the Dark Lord's lips curved into a cold smile.
"Very well," Riddle said, his voice amused. "Do not disappoint me, Draco."
"I won't," Draco said quickly, bowing his head to hide the flush of pride that crept up his neck. He could already picture it: putting the other Potter boy, Harry fucking Potter, in his place, proving once and for all that the Malfoys were loyal, capable, and indispensable.
Not to mention that it would be immensely pleasurable. For him, that is. And, he also thought with irritation, his so-called friends will finally have something else to talk about than Harry Potter's duelling prowess!
As the meeting adjourned after a half hour and the Death Eaters began to file out, Draco couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at his lips. This was his moment. His chance.
And he had a lot to plan.