Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Bohemian Rhapsody x Queen
Chapter 55: The Godfather Complex
Christmas morning came, and Demetric found himself nowhere near the 'Christmas Spirit.' Since McGonagall's visit, he had been waiting for her 'friend' to show up. For every day that passed and no response, the muggle man found himself losing hope in the Wizarding World. That not even witches and wizards could bring Atlas back to him.
To torture himself even further, this first thing he did that morning was visit Atlas's room. Everything was just how it was the day the Death Eaters came and took him. They took him with only the clothes on his back. He didn't even get to pack—he didn't get to say goodbye. Not really. They never got to actually process the fact he was leaving his home for another.
They took him as quickly as they came.
He walked into his living room, looking right at the Christmas tree that was set up in the corner of the room. It had a few presents under it, most of them belonging to Atlas. There was one box however—and Demetric assumed it belonged to him.
He plopped down on the couch, removing the wrapping paper from the box. He let out a small laugh as he saw his gift—a shaving kit.
"Even when he's gone," said Demetric. "The boy still has jokes."
But the longer he stared at his gift, the more he was torturing himself. He had raised Atlas ever since he was two-years-old. He had watched him grow into something more than his father…and maybe even his mother. And now…he was gone.
Atlas wasn't even his real son, but Demetric couldn't shake the feeling that he had been a father.
There was a knock on the door, and the man hoped for two things. Either the 'friend' McGonagall was referring to…or Atlas. Hoping for the latter, Demetric made his way to the door. Upon opening it, his hopes flew away…
He was met by a black, shaggy dog. And no one else.
"I supposed you weren't the who knocked on the door." Said Demetric, looking around for an actual person. "Where's your owner?"
Obviously, the dog said nothing, only staring at the man before him and wagging its tail. The man finally sighed.
"You hungry?" He finally said, and as its answer—the shaggy dog trotted inside of the house.
Demetric followed him, closing and locking the door. He didn't mind the shaggy dog hopping on the couch while he headed to the kitchen. Once he opened the fridge, he noticed he hadn't been grocery shopping in weeks—he no longer had anyone to feed but himself.
He pulled out a pack of bacon and a can of beer. "All I have is bacon and beer. So I guess we'll have to share."
"I guess so." He heard a voice say. Demetric immediately paused—he had invited a dog into his home, not a person. He reached under one of his cabinets, grabbing the gun he stored in case of home intruders.
He swiftly turned around, pointing the weapon at the intruder. The dog was no longer on the couch, but his position had been switched with a black curly-haired man. He looked dangerous, but he had a charm to him. Demetric knew exactly who he was.
"Wow." The man said. "A gun. Haven't seen one of those in years."
"Who the fuck are you?" Demetric growled, hoping his gut was wrong.
"I have an inkling you know the answer. You know who I am, just like I know who you are. Demetric Jones."
"How do you know that?"
The man on the couch laughed, pointing to the certificate on the TV stand. Demetric felt foolish on the inside, but he didn't show it. He sighed, lowering the gun and finally setting it back on the kitchen counter.
"So, you're Sirius Black?" asked Demetric. "The one McGonagall sent for?"
"Surprise!" teased Sirius.
"Then, I have something for you." Demetric dug in his pocket, pulling out the piece of paper McGonagall gave him a days ago. He walked out of the kitchen, handing the paper to Sirius. He watched as the ex-con opened it, reading the contents slowly.
Demetric suddenly felt anxious. "What does it say?"
"Nothing I don't already know." Sirius replied. "Atlas Riddle, Voldemort's son, is now the Hound and has been assigned the task of murdering hundreds of people."
"The what?"
The other man frowned. "The Hound. The other half of Lord Voldemort's most sacred duo—the Hound and the Hunter. He broke his hunter—Bartemius Crouch Jr.—out of the wizarding prison Azkaban, more than likely the same day the Death Eaters came and took Atlas."
"And what do you know about the Hunter and the Hound?" asked Demetric, immediately worrying about Atlas and what his real father had him doing.
"The Hunter hunts and the Hound…they hound. In nicer terms."
However, the other man didn't seem satisfied by Sirius's answer.
Sirius sighed. "The Hound kills the target. In whichever way they see fit—but don't worry, Atlas will never be as brutal as the last Hound."
"Until Voldemort makes him."
"You seem to care a lot about this boy—are you a relative?"
Demetric stiffened. "I'm his father."
"Pardon?"
"Voldemort, Tom Riddle, whoever the hell he is," Demetric gritted. "May have brought him into this world, but I raised him. He was my son—and Riddle…he came and took him." He frowned deeply, the anger settling in the pit of his stomach. "He didn't even tell me when—they just showed up…and I had no choice but to tell Atlas the truth."
Sirius didn't say anything, but he felt sorry for the muggle man in front of him. He couldn't help but think about his own godson, and how Voldemort took him—and how the Order…and himself...had no choice but to let Voldemort do it. To allow the darkest wizard of all time take James and Lily Potter's son.
"That's why I'm here." He said, holding up the piece of parchment. "McGonagall wants me to track him down—to bring him home."
Demetric didn't look excited. "Just you?"
"Who else?"
"Not to be rude." Said the other man. "But you're a wanted criminal. Even more wanted since the news broke about that Travis Perry guy and the muggle murdered in the alley last night."
Sirius sighed. "I've heard. And we both know that wasn't me."
"Doesn't matter. They're setting you up—and I have to believe that you can hunt down my son while you're being hunted yourself?"
"You have every reason to doubt me." Said Sirius. "But like you, Voldemort stole something from me. My godson. And I would do anything to get him back—but I can't. Because like you said, I'm a wanted criminal being accused of murders I haven't committed. But your son, your Atlas, I can get him back. And like me, you would also do anything to get him back."
Demetric wasn't sure if he could believe Sirius's story, but he had to ask himself—as a father—is this really something a man like him would lie about? He had nothing to his name but an army of dementors at his back. And he was throwing all of that away, just to help him.
"Out of anything and everything you can do for Atlas." The ex-con continued. "All you have to do is trust me."
The two men stared at each other, each one trying to understand the pain hidden in the eyes of the other. And it seemed they had met their match. Both of them were suffering at the hands of Lord Voldemort. And even if they couldn't free both of their sons, they had the chance to free one of them.
Demetric nodded. "Fine. I'll trust you."
Sirius nodded as well, his usual playful smile creeping across his lips. "Good. Now about that breakfast."
Theodore never thought he would see the day where he would have to rush Christmas. But he needed to get to Hermione's. He only had a week until New Year's and then the next day the students would be returning to Hogwarts. And once they touched King's Cross Station, the secret would be out about Hermione and Blaise. Lie or Truth.
He didn't savor his Christmas breakfast. He didn't take in the glory of his many Christmas presents. His parents weren't even sure he saw his presents—how fast he ripped the wrapping paper off. Blaise's words kept echoing in his head since last night.
You can never hide the truth, but you can always manipulate the way it comes out.
It was the ickiest, truest thing Blaise Zabini had ever told him. And for once in his life, instead of punching the tan Slytherin in his teeth, Theodore Nott found himself following his worst enemy's advice. Because for once in his worst enemy's life, he had finally done something that would save their friendship, instead of destroying it.
Around noon, he ran upstairs, quacking donning his traveling cloak, gloves, and a scarf. He ran out into the street, catching the Knight Bus to London. His nerves were running as fast as the bus itself.
"You okay, Neville?" Stan Shunpike asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Theodore literally jumped from the highest step of the Knight Bus, hitting the sidewalk with a sprint. He made his way down the street, his legs aching—until he made it to the Granger's house. He didn't stop until he made it to the doorstep, alerting his presence with three knocks.
The door opened, and Monica Granger greeted him. "Theo! Happy Christmas!"
"Happy Christmas Miss Granger." Theodore said back, his legs wobbly from what he was about to do. "Is Hermione home?'
"Oh yes. She just got back from Ice Skating with her father."
"Ice what?"
The women went red with embarrassment. "I forgot. Wizards. Come inside, I'll take you to them."
Theodore nodded, missing the key word in Miss Granger's statement. Them. His mind was only focused on his mission, and the anxiety was killing him. So much was at stake—and he needed to get it done before tonight, when he had to take Daphne to Hogsmeade.
Miss Granger led him to the backyard, where Theodore finally met the meaning of them. He saw Hermione first, but his mission fell short once he saw the familiar blonde hair of someone else.
"Theo?" Draco asked, stopping in the middle of making a snowball. "What are you doing here?"
Dammit.
"And what did you say your name was again dear?" Molly Weasley asked, surprised by their early Christmas visitor.
"Tracey. Tracey Davis." The girl replied. She showed up at the Weasley home, a long parcel clutched in her hand. "I'm a friend of Ron's."
"Friend?" She heard one of the Weasley twins ask. Fred.
"Or girlfriend?" The other one, George, had asked.
Tracey smiled. "Just a friend."
"Well, come inside." Said Molly Weasley. "You must be cold. Are you hungry?"
Tracey nodded, following Missus Weasley inside of their home. She had heard about the Burrow from her father—he had always wanted to buy it from the Weasley's and turn the property into a Quidditch Pitch, but Arthur Weasley always turned him down. She didn't understand why her father was being so persistent until she saw it for herself.
Acres and acres of land, perfect for flying.
She stepped into the kitchen, noticing it was rather small and cramped. Tracey examined the room some more, taking in the large differences from her home. There was wooden table in the middle of the kitchen, all sides surrounded by chairs—each one of them for the Weasleys.
She then noticed the clock, which didn't seem much like a clock at all. It didn't have any numbers, but it had certain phrases. Time to feed the chickens, Time to make tea, You're late. Things of that nature. And instead of one hand, there were several, each one representing one of the Weasleys. She found Ron's, wondering how many times his face appeared on the You're late section of the clock.
"You can sit down here, dear." Missus Weasley said, "Breakfast will be ready in just a moment. Fred, please tell Ronald he has a visitor."
Fred nodded, making his way to the unorthodox staircase. "OI, RON! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS HERE!"
Tracey laughed, trying to hide her blush from the word girlfriend. She wasn't particularly sure why she had decided to visit Ron on Christmas—or why she had even brought him a gift.
While she waited, she watched as the Weasley woman threw a hunk of sausage into a frying pan while she used wandless magic to crack some eggs. Tracey was mesmerized by the sight—she was so used to watching house elves prepare her food, she never thought that one day she would eat a meal prepared by a witch.
She was shaken out of her memorization when she heard Ron's voice coming down the steps.
"This better not be another one of your tricks, Fred." She heard him say. "I don't have a girlfriend."
When the boy made it to the bottom step, however, he found himself eating his words. He felt his palms go sweaty and his heart skip a beat when he saw Tracey sitting at his kitchen table.
Fred smirked at the sight. "You were saying?"
"Uhhhhh…" Ron's ears went red. "Hey."
"Hey." Tracey said back. "Happy Christmas."
Noticing the awkward greeting between the two, Molly Weasley stepped in. "Come sit, Ronald. Breakfast is almost ready. You too, Fred. George, go grab Percy, Ginny, and your father, please."
"Rodger." George said, disappearing back up the staircase.
"So, Tracey," Fred said, staring dreamily at his little brother. "What brings you around these parts?"
Tracey shrugged. "Didn't really feel like Christmas at my house, so I figured I'd visit Ron."
"But not only did you visit." The twin pressed on. "You brought him a gift."
Ron snapped his head towards Tracey, though he was trying his best to not look at her. "You got me a Christmas gift?"
"Ah, ah, ah, Weasley." Said the girl. "Breakfast first."
Ron swallowed with embarrassment. Not only had Tracey come to visit him, but she brought him a gift as well. He was anxious to know what she had brought him—just as much as he wanted to run and hide from the teasing looks that Fred was giving him.
"Miss Davis." Arthur Weasley said, coming down the steps next. "Weren't expecting to see you this morning. Is your father here?"
"No sir." Responded Tracey. "So don't worry, he won't be asking to buy your land today."
Arthur laughed. "As if I'll ever sell it to him."
The remaining Weasley children made their way downstairs too. Ginny casting Tracey a suspicious look. What was Blaise's betrothed doing at her house? And why did Ron look like he wanted to hide under a rock?
The Christmas breakfast begun, and Tracey couldn't remember the last time she enjoyed a meal. Between the jokes from Fred and George, and the scolding from Missus Weasley every time they said something bad about Percy, Tracey found herself not being able to stop smiling. She also noticed that Ron was enjoying himself too.
When the feast ended, Ron immediately dragged Tracey outside. He very badly wanted to see his gift—and he wanted to know why Tracey had come to visit him. He knew that she was the betrothed to Blaise Zabini, and if she was anything like him—she wouldn't come to his home bearing gifts unless she wanted something in return.
"Happy Christmas, Weasley." Said Tracey, handing over the parcel.
Ron took it, quickly removing the wrapping paper. His jaw dropped at the sight of his gift—he couldn't believe it.
"A Firebolt?!" He blurted. "You got me a Firebolt?!"
Tracey couldn't hide her blush this time, watching as Ron was awe-struck by his present. "It's the same one you rode in Diagon Alley the other day. With a few alterations."
And a few alterations they were indeed. The hilt had changed from the usual black to a maple brown color, and all the metal pieces had been changed from silver to gold. It was the perfect broom for a Gryffindor flyer. And at the end of the hilt was his name—Ronald Weasley.
"This is mental." He said, "You're mental."
"Maybe." The girl admitted. "But it isn't everyday a boy—especially a Gryffindor boy—chooses to fly around Diagon Alley with me."
Ron looked back her—taking in her words. It wasn't every day that he would choose to ride a Firebolt around the town with a Slytherin, especially a girl. It wasn't everyday he found someone who enjoyed Quidditch as much as he did.
"It's…you're…" He said, quickly turning red as the words came out. "The broom…it's beautiful…thank you."
"No problem." She said, smiling once more, and Ron felt himself melting like a puddle. "Wanna test it out again?"
"Sure. But where's your broom?"
Tracey smirked. She held out her hand. "Accio Firebolt." And like a flash of lighting, her black Firebolt snapped into her hand.
"Wicked."
"I have a better idea." They heard George Weasley call from behind them.
The two turned, watching as Fred, George, and Ginny walked outside, a broom clutched in their hands.
"How about a good ole game of Quidditch?" Fred said. "Two versus Two. I'll be referee."
"Fine." Said Tracey. "But Ron's on my team."
Ginny laughed. "Well, he wasn't going to be on mine. Ron sucks."
"Ginny." Ron gritted, his face turning red.
"Oh, I'm only kidding with you, Ron. I would always pick you for my team—if all the other good choices had been taken first."
Everyone, even Tracey laughed at this. Ron felt his ears go even redder but took his position on Tracey's team. They went a few yards away from the Weasley home, where a few makeshift goal posts had been made. Ron and Tracey took their position on one side while Ginny and George took their position on the other. Fred stood in the middle, holding the Quaffle.
"The rules are the usual." The boy announced. "Two versus Two. No snitch. First Team to one hundred wins. Ready…set…go!"
The Quaffle was thrown into the air, and the game had begun.
"But I booked the field!" Wood spat. "I booked it!"
Blaise watched as the scene unfolded. The Slytherins had just interrupted the Gryffindors training session, and Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, wasn't too happy about it. The tan Slytherin realized that this was the "unwanted company" that Flint spoke about the night before.
"Ah, yes," Flint said promptly. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape."
Wood snatched the note as soon as Flint pulled it out, furiously reading the contents. A delicious smirk crept upon Blaise's face while the Gryffindor Captain's turned redder by the second. Another moment and the crowd of Slytherins had split to reveal Blaise to the Gryffindor team—he had just been announced the new chaser.
"And speaking of new things," Flint continued. "Check out the new brooms, Wood. Nimbus 2001s—a gift from Draco's father."
Blaise heard himself say the words before he thought about them. "Still using Cleansweep Fives, Wood? You're going to need something much better to catch up with us."
He heard Malfoy snort at his comment—enjoying the moment even further as LeStrange nudged the boy in the ribs. The next moments began as Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley arrived on the field.
"Oh look, a field invasion." Flint sneered.
Blaise felt something snap inside him when he saw Weasley and Granger. He didn't think it was necessarily Weasley—or maybe it was. Or maybe it was the fact that he was with Granger. What had they been doing moments before?
Weasley spoke as soon as they were in ear shot of the rest. "What's going on? And what is 'he' doing?"
Their eyes locked and Blaise was ready for a fight. "Jealous, Weasley? I'm the new Slytherin chaser."
"Are those—"
Blaise lifted his Nimbus 2001, holding it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. "Yes, they are. Oh, don't worry, Oliver. I'm sure you and the rest of the Gryffindor losers can raise enough gold and get new brooms, too. I heard the Quidditch Hall of Fame Museum is looking for ancient merchandise."
It was then that Granger spoke up, and though her voice was sharp and cold, he couldn't help but listen to her.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to 'buy' their way in." She said. "They got in on pure talent."
Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but Blaise raised his hand to stop him. He would handle Granger.
"No one asked your opinion," He spat, the words burning like fire. "you filthy little Mudblood!"
The next moments were filled with screams and the sound of Weasley's wand backfiring. As the Slytherins laughed, Blaise felt his head collapsing within itself. Everything was becoming harder to see, harder to hear. All he could see was darkness—and then…. he was gone.
His eyes snapped open, and Blaise Zabini found himself on the floor of his bedroom. His clothes were soaked with sweat and he had a massive headache. He stood up, catching eye of the green Slytherin Quidditch uniform laid out on his bed. It had happened again—another episode. Another memory changed.
But that wasn't what troubled him. In his time, Draco Malfoy had been the one to call Granger a mudblood. But in this new timeline, he had been the one to say it. And it shouldn't have mattered, but he felt extremely guilty.
Why hadn't she brought it up? To be honest, they never talked about the alternate-Blaise. They never talked about the alternate past. He was so wrapped up in the present, and his possible future, he hadn't stopped to think about the manipulative-Blaise things he had done in the past. The only part of his past he was worried about getting to was Ginny.
He sat down on his bed, rubbing his temples from the massive headache he had. This one was worse than the other two, and Blaise knew they would only get worse. Once again, he questioned his ability to endure the pain that came along with these episodes. If he would be able to take these headaches every time he dove into the past, reliving his moments with Ginny. A few days ago, he was sure he would be able to, but now—he wasn't sure.
He was afraid that he would have to take Granger's advice—and isolate himself from any and everything that could signify a strong piece of his past. Because that meant he would have to isolate himself from Ginny.
He groaned loudly, not wanting to accept the solution in front of him. There had to be another way. It wasn't fair—that he had to be the one to suffer, and everyone got to live their normal lives. That another Blaise had memories with his crush, that another Blaise made memories with others—and that this Blaise couldn't access them without feeling pain.
It was unfair.
"Theo?" asked Hermione. "Are you okay?"
He was certainly not okay. He wasn't expecting Draco to be here. Well, he was. But not this early. Theodore had purposely rushed his own Christmas so he could be here before Draco. He was running out of time.
"Uhhh…." He said, trying to come up with the perfect lie. But like his plan, his brain was failing as well.
He could've asked Hermione to speak in private, to tell her what he knew. But he knew that would make Draco suspicious—making him believe that Theodore and Hermione were hiding something from him. Which Theodore was, but it was way more complicated with that. The mystery of if Daphne's intel being true or not was still up in the air, and the Slytherin needed Hermione to confirm his suspicions. It wouldn't be wise to cause more problems inside of one problem.
And knowing Draco Malfoy, he would be the biggest problem of all. He would definitely go after Zabini, and that would ruin Tobias's alliance. And Theodore didn't want to be responsible for that.
But he needed to think of something fast. In a few hours, he would have to take Daphne to Hogsmeade and—
Hogsmeade.
"You know what?" said Theodore, finding his perfect cover story. "I'm glad you're here, Draco."
The blonde Slytherin raised a brow. "Why?"
"Because it will make it easier to state my case. I'm here because…Daphne has coerced me into taking her to Hogsmeade tonight, and Salazar knows I don't want to be alone with her. So here I am, asking my two best friends who are more than best friends to come along."
He saw Hermione look towards Draco, and the blonde Slytherin's face had gone red. Hogsmeade on Christmas was a couples thing.
"Theo, I don't think that's a good idea." Draco said slowly.
"Of course it is." Theodore said impatiently. "You and Hermione. Me and Daphne. Hogsmeade. Christmas."
"And Tobias and Pansy weren't available?"
Theodore smirked. "Tobias and Pansy aren't a couple."
Hermione blushed, shuffling her feet. "I wouldn't mind going."
"You do realize Daphne is Astoria's sister?" said Draco, closing his eyes. "The same Astoria Greengrass that I'm betrothed to. What do you think is going to happen when Daphne sees me and Granger show up in Hogsmeade?"
"And when have you cared what Daphne thinks?" The Gryffindor witch asked. "Much less Astoria."
Draco sighed. "I don't. I'm just saying."
"I'll keep Daphne distracted." Theodore said. "Scouts honor. I just really need you guys to come. I can't do this by myself."
Theodore saw Draco's face turn into one of deep thought. He looked at Theo and then at Hermione, who no doubt was thinking about tonight. This would be her first time doing something with Draco outside of school, and Theodore was perverting it to his will. He wanted both of them to have a good time, but he needed to get this secret out first.
"Fine." Draco growled. "We'll go with you."
Hermione tried to hide her smile, but she couldn't. Her and Draco had been to Hogsmeade before, but that was with the school…and before they kissed. She didn't care what the conditions of their visit were, she was just happy to be doing it with Draco.
"Wonderful!" Theodore exclaimed. "You all can meet at my manor, and we can floo from there. See you tonight."
The Slytherin then turned, leaving the Granger home. He was satisfied, that he wouldn't have to deal with Daphne alone, but something was battering his brain.
How was he going to get Hermione alone in Hogsmeade?
Christmas evening took hold, and so did a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. The news was circling the headlines. The Time Anomaly Murders were beginning, and Sirius was being framed. The Order had come together to analyze the murders, to see if they could discover any clues, patterns—anything—that could help them figure out the list. Or at least figure out when Quirrell was next.
"These attacks are random." Mad-Eye grunted. "There is no way for us to know who's next."
Lupin nodded. "Mad-Eye's right. Travis Perry was a wizard, and this Greer man was an innocent muggle, worked at a bakery. There's no connection between the two."
"The only thing connecting them is the list." Said Tonks.
"Which we don't have." Snape sneered. Everyone could tell he was irritated with the fact that there was a piece of information Voldemort had that he couldn't get to.
"This Atlas boy is smart, though." Said Kingsley, scanning the article. "Blaming Sirius for the murders. It's like the Ministry has completely forgotten Crouch Jr. broke out a few weeks ago."
Molly Weasley huffed. "They're sliding right under the radar while everyone focuses on Sirius. How is it that I'm feeling bad for him?"
"Sirius will suffer a fate worse than death if this continues." Said Arthur, also feeling pity for the ex-con. "Fudge will want his head. And the dementors will want more than that."
Dumbledore listened to his members, agreeing with some, disagreeing with others. It wasn't a surprise that Lord Voldemort would try to hide his actions under the hunt for Sirius Black. It was a very strategic move. But as he listened to his members discuss, he noticed that they were worried about the wrong thing.
The list.
Yes, the list was crucial. The Order needed it if they wanted to save the other hundred people who were Time Anomalies. But the list was just a piece of Voldemort's plan—they needed more than a piece.
"We've been focusing on the wrong thing." Said Dumbledore. "Our goal shouldn't be the list."
Mad-Eye looked confused. "Pardon, professor?" The other members looked just as confused. Dumbledore smiled lightly.
"Of course we need the list, but we can't get the physical copy until the Hound and the Hunter go after Quirrell."
Snape frowned. "You're saying there's more than one copy of the list?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Both Atlas Riddle and Crouch Jr. have seen the list." He then looked to Snape. "You may not be able to get to Voldemort's copy—but you can get to theirs."
"You want me to penetrate their minds?" asked Snape.
"Atlas's if you can." The old wizard continued. "Crouch Jr. may have defenses set up—he may alert the Dark Lord if he feels just a slight touch of someone else in his mind. The boy—I expect he won't be prepared."
Molly Weasley spoke next. "And how are you sure the boy has even seen the list?"
"We don't. But it's worth a try—even if he hasn't seen the whole list…he might've seen a couple names."
"No." said Lupin. "You're asking Snape to invade a child's mind."
"He's the son of Lord Voldemort, Remus." Arthur Weasley said next. "And based on these articles, he's not acting like a child."
"And neither is Harry." The man shot back. "They're children. And Lord Voldemort has convinced them both that their childhood is worth nothing to them. Going through with this only proves were the same has him—that they're only disposable."
Dumbledore pondered Lupin's words. "What do you propose we do then?"
"Sirius."
Kingsley shook his head. "You want us to put the fate of the world in Sirius's hands?"
"Sirius is investigating Atlas Riddle." Lupin admitted.
"And how do you know that?" Snape asked.
"McGonagall sent him a Patronus, asking him to meet a man named Demetric Jones." The other wizard continued. "He wrote me a few hours ago, saying that McGonagall left him instructions to find Atlas Riddle."
"Did she tell him why?" asked Dumbledore. He had already noticed that Minerva wasn't present for the Order meeting. This could be the reason why.
"No." answered Lupin. "But if anybody can find Atlas, it's Sirius. I can have Sirius bring Atlas to us. This will give us a chance to find out what Atlas knows and show him that he's more than what Voldemort made him."
The room went silent, moved by Remus's statement. But it wasn't because of Atlas—it was because his words hit another subject. Harry Potter. Every day, it seemed as if their mission to bring Tobias LeStrange to the right side of the war grew smaller and smaller. And for a long time, they felt like Tobias was the only opportunity they had to fight against Voldemort. But now, they were accepting another opportunity.
They may not be able to get to Lord Voldemort's grandson. But they could get to his son.
Ron and Tracey watched the sun set from their brooms. They watched it intently, suspended in the air with nothing under them but their Firebolts and mounds of white snow. Ron had to admit that this Christmas had turned out better than he thought it would've. He still wished he could've spent the holidays with his friends, but he couldn't deny that this was a good replacement.
Tracey leaned forward on her broom, resting her head in her hands. The Gryffindor boy looked at her, and he found himself unable to look away. He never thought he would become this entranced with a Slytherin—yet a girl Slytherin at that. But Tracey was so much more than that.
"Can I ask you a question?" He asked.
"Hm?"
"Why did you walk up to me in Quidditch Quality Supplies? We've never spoken before-I don't think we've even crossed paths really. Not like I have with Pansy."
Tracey shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't take pity on you, if that's what you wanted to know."
"I didn't think that, but…" Ron felt his ears burn red. "…you're Zabini's betrothed."
"And?"
"And…Zabini never does anything for anybody, unless he wants something else in return."
"You think I would've done all this," said the girl. "if I wanted something in return?"
Ron didn't know what to say. He felt kind of bad for asking her, but he needed to know. The Slytherin friends he did have—they had never done anything like this. Hell, they hadn't even been to his house. Yet buy him a broom.
"No." Ron admitted. "It's just…nobody's ever done anything like this for me before."
Tracey smiled, and Ron almost fell off his broom. "I've never done anything like this for anyone. Blaise doesn't even get presents like this." She then laughed. "I got him socks for Christmas."
"So…why me? If not pitying for the Weasley kid?"
The Slytherin girl sighed, taking this time to actually think about what she had done. She had willing spoken to Ron Weasley, going as far as flying with him across Diagon Alley. She then bought the Firebolt for the boy, had it customized to match the Gryffindor colors—and delivered it to Ron on Christmas.
But why?
She sighed. "The only friends I have are Daphne and Pansy. Daphne is always going on about Nott, and Pansy always seems worried about LeStrange. Since I'm not obsessed with my betrothed, I always feel like the odd ball. I guess I decided I wanted new friends."
Ron went red. "And you chose me?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley." The girl teased. "But yes, I chose you. And I don't regret it."
She turned to look at him, forcing herself not to blush at the sight of Ron's face. He had gone a horrible red at her words.
"Do you regret it?" She asked.
The Gryffindor couldn't take his eyes off her. Here was Tracey Davis, a die-hard Slytherin, choosing Ron Weasley, a die-hard Gryffindor, to be her friend. She didn't want anything in return—there was no ulterior motive. No plot. She just wanted to be his friend.
Ron shook his head. "I don't."
"Good." Said Tracey. "Now I don't have to take your Firebolt back."
Daphne, Draco, and Hermione met at Nott Manor—the meeting point for Hogsmeade. Daphne put on her best Christmas dress, her hair looking curlier than usual. She wanted everything to be perfect tonight, but the moment she saw Malfoy and Granger, her perfect night seemed to fall through her fingers.
"What are you two doing here?" She asked primly.
"Theodore invited us to Hogsmeade." Draco answered. "Though you look like you're going to a dinner party."
Hermione frowned. "You aren't…cold?"
"No." Daphne said. "Why did Theo invite you to our night out in Hogsmeade?"
Draco shrugged. "I guess he didn't want to be stuck with you the whole night."
Daphne frowned, her mouth opening to spew the same venom back at Malfoy, but she was interrupted as Theodore came down the steps.
"Good." He said, though his heart felt like it would stop any minute. "Everyone's here."
His betrothed turned to him immediately. "Why didn't you tell me you invited Malfoy and Granger?"
"And why would I tell you that?" said Theodore, making his way towards the fireplace. Draco and Hermione followed him over, all three of them stepping inside the fireplace. The Slytherin frowned deeply when he noticed that Daphne was still standing on the other side of the room.
Theodore sighed. "May you please step inside the fireplace, love?"
Daphne crossed her arms, and Theodore had the urge to leave without her, but he knew he couldn't get on her bad side.
"I have some extra galleons from Christmas to spare." Theodore took a deep breath, loathing himself for what he was about to say. "If you get in the fireplace, I will buy you that diamond necklace you saw at the jewelry the other day."
The girl's face lit up then, strutting towards the fireplace. "You had me at diamonds." She then stepped inside, pecking Theodore on the cheek. Theodore's face with red, Hermione didn't know what to say, and Draco could be heard snickering from his position in the fireplace.
"Hogsmeade." Theodore grumbled, throwing the floo powder down.
In a matter of seconds, the four ended up in Hogsmeade, and they all had to admit—it looked extremely gorgeous. There were Christmas lights everywhere. There were carolers and horse carriages. Family, friends, and couples alike…all gathered in the town to celebrate.
"It's beautiful." Hermione said breathlessly. Draco looked at her, entranced in her awe. Yes, Hogsmeade was beautiful, but he was looking at something ten times that.
Theodore clapped his hands. "Great, now we're here. What did you want to do now, Daphe?"
"I don't know where to begin." His betrothed said. "Everything looks so beautiful."
Draco shrugged. "What about Honeydukes?"
"Or the Three Broomsticks?" Hermione suggested.
Daphne bit her lip. "Both great choices…but oh! I know exactly where we should go." She looked right at Theodore with those blues eyes that made him sick.
"We should start at Madam Puddifoot's!" She exclaimed. "All the couples go there—I bet they do something special at Christmastime."
Draco and Hermione went red, and Theodore looked like he wanted to die. He would never be able to get Hermione alone if they went there. Daphne would never let him leave her side, and anything else out the ordinary would make Draco suspicious. He needed to think of something fast.
"Fine, we'll go." He said, and Draco and Hermione looked at him with a face full of surprise. "But first…I would like to go get you that diamond necklace."
"Oh yes! You could put it around my neck once we sat down. Oh Theo!" She went in for a hug, but the Slytherin heir quickly pushed her away.
"Then it's settled." He said. "Hermione and I will go to the jeweler, while you and Draco go grab us a table?"
Hermione frowned. "Why me?"
But the question wasn't answered due to Daphne's squealing. She blonde-haired girl quickly grabbed Draco and dragged him to Madam Puddifoot's. Draco took one look at Hermione, hoping that the two wouldn't be gone long.
Theodore then grabbed Hermione's hand, finally answering her question. "I'll tell you when we get there."
Draco finally freed himself of Daphne's grip once they arrived at Madam Puddifoot's. He wanted to be as far as away from her as he could get—he could already hear the whispers surrounding the two's appearance.
"Table for two?" The hostess asked, smiling at the two third-years.
"No." Both of them said at the same time, their voices filled with equal disgust.
"A table for four." Daphne said, regaining her normal voice. "My Theo has gone to buy me a diamond necklace."
The hostess nodded. "And you?" Her question directed to Draco.
"My…ummm..." He cleared his throat. "She's with her Theo."
The two followed the hostess through a room of filled tables, finally seating them at their desired table. Draco and Daphne sat on opposite sides—distancing themselves as far as possible. The two didn't want anyone thinking they had shown up as a couple.
"Just ring this bell." The hostess said. "Once your other guests arrive, and someone will come serve you."
"Thank you so much." Daphne said.
Draco nodded. "Thank you."
Once the hostess left, their table became silent. Both of them waiting for the moment where Theodore and Hermione would return, and this awkwardness would end. Draco tried to keep himself busy—reading the menu, fixing his clothes, even playing with the silverware. Daphne tried her best as well. She tried to imagine the necklace Theodore was buying for her, but the wicked part of her brain wouldn't let her.
"You know," She said, giving in to the witch. "My sister won't be too happy about you bringing someone else to Hogsmeade on Christmas."
"I'm sure Astoria will be fine," Draco responded nonchalantly. "Her Christmas present is worth more than this whole establishment."
The girl shrugged. "I'm sure", she mocked. "she would've enjoyed spending time with her actual betrothed."
"Then perhaps she should've manipulated me into taking her, like you have with Theodore."
The two met eyes.
"He told us what you did." Said Draco. "You know he doesn't like you, Daphne."
"Not yet." The girl said.
"And forcing him to take you places is going to change that?"
Daphne sighed. "No. Spending time together will make him figure out his true feelings for me."
"I think he already has." Draco grumbled.
"And what do you know? I've watched you fawn over Granger for three years now—when will you tell her how you feel?"
"I've told her how I feel." Draco said, his face turning red. He realized he hadn't really told Hermione anything about how he felt about her. He had shown it.
Daphne smirked, not believing the Slytherin. "Really? The Draco Malfoy told a girl how much he likes her?"
"No." Draco said. "But I've shown her."
"How?"
The blonde-Slytherin gulped. He felt himself warming up. "I…umm….we…uhhhh..." He cleared his throat.
Daphne's eyes grew wider. "You kissed her, didn't you?"
Draco's face went even redder. Butterflies were gathering in his stomach just thinking about it.
"Oh my gosh, you did!" The girl exclaimed. "You kissed Hermione Granger!"
"Can you keep your voice down?" Draco said quickly.
"Sorry, sorry…I'm just so excited. I've been waiting for this to happen for years. Did you all make it official?"
"Make what official?"
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Official, Malfoy. You know—boyfriend and girlfriend."
The blonde-Slytherin gulped at that. "We…uh…-I don't think you're the person I should be discussing this with, Daphne."
"Of course it is." The girl said dismissively. "We're practically family, Draco. We're supposed to talk about things like this."
Draco raised a brow. "The only reason we're 'family', is because I'm supposed to be marrying your sister. Who isn't Hermione. And how do I know you won't tell Astoria all of this once we leave?"
"If I wanted to tell Astoria about this, I would've told her about you and Hermione the minute she found out she was your betrothed." Said Daphne, and Draco had to admit she had a point. "I'm not the wicked witch everyone thinks I am."
"I guess that's only when it comes to Theodore."
"Well, obviously, I have to be." The girl responded. "I had to hex a second-year Ravenclaw last week. I caught her doodling Theodore's name in her notebook at the library."
The was a silence, and the two found themselves doing something they would've never saw themselves doing. Laughing. Draco found talking to Daphne oddly refreshing, and the Slytherin girl felt the same.
When the laughter died down, however, Draco immediately saw Daphne's smile turn into one of sadness.
"I know he doesn't like me." Daphne finally admitted. "I'm not sure if he ever will. But I like spending time with Theodore—he's brave, he makes me laugh…I even enjoy those little books he reads all the time."
"Have you tried just being his friend?" asked Draco.
"No, but why even try? We're going to be married one day…"
"Just because you're going to be his wife, doesn't mean you can't try to be his friend." Said the blonde-Slytherin. "Maybe the reason Theodore doesn't like you is because you're trying so hard to be the wife, and not his friend."
Daphne pondered Draco's words. She sighed. "Maybe you're right. I'm just afraid that when the time comes, he'll choose another betrothed."
"He won't." Draco assured her. "Otherwise, he would've already done it. That has to count for something, right?"
Daphne nodded, smiling at the revelation.
Theodore and Hermione entered the jeweler, making their way over to the diamond necklaces. Theodore saw the exact one Daphne wanted, but prolonged the decision so he could talk to Hermione. Unfortunately, Hermione had planned her own confrontation.
"You should be nicer to Daphne." She said. "It's obvious she just wants to spend time with you."
Theodore scoffed. "She's a nightmare. The only thing she wants to do is spend my money and cling to me like a pocket watch."
"But I'm sure Daphne has some good qualities."
"Like what?"
Hermione bit her lip. "She's sweet, when she isn't spreading false gossip around the school. She cares about you—she always comes to check on you when you get hurt. She even tries to like the things you like. Pansy told me she caught Daphne reading one of your comic books in the Slytherin common room one night."
"I knew she stole one of my books." Said Theodore, looking through the glass box.
The Gryffindor witch rolled her eyes. "You're missing the point, Theo."
"No, Hermione," said the Slytherin. "I think you're missing the point." He removed his gaze from the diamond necklaces, preparing himself to tell Hermione the real reason he brought Daphne to Hogsmeade.
He appreciated her from trying to make Daphne seem less of the manipulating princess she actually was—and Theodore had to admit that Hermione had made some really good points. But that didn't take away from the fact that Daphne had literally blackmailed him into taking her to Hogsmeade.
And that her bait was Hermione.
"The reason I invited you and Draco to Hogsmeade wasn't because I didn't want to be alone with Daphne." He admitted. "It was because I needed to talk to you."
Hermione frowned. "Why?"
"I declined Daphne's first offer to go to Hogsmeade together, but like I told you and Draco she…coerced me. She told me that if I didn't take her to Hogsmeade, she was going to tell the whole school that…"
He hesitated. It would've been so much easier if Zabini had just told him the truth.
"Tell the school what?" asked Hermione.
"…that you and Blaise Zabini have been sneaking around the castle." Said Theodore. "And that you guys have been meeting secretly in the library."
To his horror, Hermione's face went white. It was true. He thought, feeling his stomach tie itself in knots. Hermione and Blaise had been sneaking around Hogwarts…but why?
"How does she know?"
"She said she saw you both—and that Pansy witnessed it, too."
Hermione felt her legs go weak. Her alliance with Blaise was supposed to be a secret, and soon it wouldn't be. She knew Daphne would tell the whole school, and that those rumors would get back to Draco.
"I told her I'd found find out the truth before she went spreading the news." Said Theodore. "I tried talking to Zabini but—"
Hermione interrupted him. "You talked to Blaise?"
"He didn't tell me anything." Said Theo. "He told me to ask you. But Hermione, why have you and Zabini been sneaking around the castle? And why haven't you told Draco?"
Hermione only had an answer to one of those questions. She didn't know why she hadn't told Draco. But what would she tell him? That she was helping their worst enemy with a problem? That this Blaise Zabini was another Blaise Zabini from an alternate-timeline and that they were connected by the time devices laying under their clothing? It wasn't her secret to tell.
But she knew what would happen if she didn't tell Draco the truth, and if he found out by somebody at school—Merlin forbid he learns it from Daphne. He would go straight for Zabini.
"I've been helping Zabini with something, personal. But that's all I can say." She said, keeping Zabini's true existence a secret. "I don't know why I haven't told Draco, but I know what will happen if he finds out from Daphne."
Theodore nodded. "He'll beat Blaise into a bloody pulp, and then…" He stopped, almost exposing the Heir Alliance.
"And then what?" Hermione asked quickly—she was on edge.
"Nothing." Theodore shook his head. "But I have to tell Daphne, we made a pact."
"Which means I have to tell Draco, before she tells the whole school."
"Now, do you see why Daphne's a nightmare?"
Hermione wasn't sure she agreed, but she did agree that she had to tell Draco the truth. Her secret was no less than the secret Draco kept from Tobias. If she was being honest with herself, she had forgotten about Blaise these past few days. Ever since her and Draco…kissed…she had pretty much forgotten about the tan Slytherin and his time problem.
But now the two were on the verge of mixing, and if the Gryffindor witch didn't get a handle on it now, it was bound to be a catastrophe.
Author's Note:
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~ TheeStoryTeller
