Disclaimer: Hold your horses, lads and lassies. This is an attempt at trying to amuse myself and relieve the terrible boredom I'm suffering. I am but a mere amateur dabbler in the world of Harry Potter. So, what does it mean? It means that Harry Potter will never be mine, even if he's real and I can marry him. We're good? Great. Now read on.
Feature: Harry Potter/Damiane Malfoy (She's the Fem!Draco Malfoy the Snobbiest Snob), X (mysterious character whose identity will be unveiled. Soon. Soon. Be patient! Merlin's sagging-... cloak hem.)
Drabble HP/GFT/A-0002a: I Offer To You My Soul In Ink requested Fem!Harry x Draco with "redemption"
"Three drops of Veritaserum administered at 11:37 A.M., on the fifth of March, year twenty-eighteen, to Lord Haimric James Potter, commonly known as Lord Harry Potter." The Auror read aloud as part of the procedure then proceeded to tip Haimrich's, or Harry's, head back to carefully tilt the vial to drip exactly three drops of Veritaserum into his mouth.
Harry began to feel the fuzzy feeling of the Veritaserum clouding his mind. He would not fight it. He had nothing to hide. He didn't do it. They would see. They would know. They would understand. "The verification process will now begin."
"What's your name?" The same verification questioning again.
"Haimrich James Potter."
"When were you born?"
"Thirty-first on the month of July, year nineteen-eighty."
"The Veritaserum is working correctly. I will now begin the inquiry on the manner of death of Lady Damiane Cassiopeia Potter née Malfoy, commonly known as Lady Damiane Potter." The Dicta-Quill obediently written down every single detail under the watchful eyes of another Auror. He must be new. He looked unfamiliar. Harry knew most the Aurors. He had trained them himself, when resources after the Second Lords War were running low. "Where were you on the evening of seventh on the month of April, year twenty-seventeen?"
"I was at home."
"What were you doing at 5:31 P.M. that day?" The memory flashed in front of his eyes, clear as if it was just yesterday.
"I was sick that day, so I was probably in bed."
"Where was Lady Damiane Potter on that day?"
"She was out." The Auror frowned.
"Do you know the reason behind her outing that day?"
"I- She- She- I- Blais-... Zab-... She-" The Auror's frown deepened and he waved his wand over Harry in a complicated sequence of flicks, swishes and jabs, switching between both hands to complete a magigram of Ogham runes with a series of Bríatharogam.
"Lord Haimrich Potter appeared to be either under a spell of secrecy, most likely a bastardised version of the Fidelius, casted on him without his knowledge or under the influence of an Unbreakable Vow taken under duress." The Auror who was watching the Dicta-Quill startled and looked up at his partner, alarmed. He waved his wand at the Dicta-Quill to pause its scribbling, and asked apprehensively.
"Does that mean the Unspeakables will be involved?"
"I'm afraid so. This is unheard of. A Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House was forced into a Vow or the Fidelius?"
"Yes, it's most adsurd."
Harry watched the exchange between the two Aurors with little interest. He knew that they would know. And they would understand. The Prophet would have a field day soon.
A/N: Hi Ink! This is the first part. I like to write in snippets since I don't really have much free time. But the rest should be up soon. This is only but the beginning. The good stuff will be there, soon.
