Author's notes:
Standard disclaimer. It all belongs to JKR. Thank you for letting us play with your toys.
I will continue to use the occasional song lyric in the story and will give credit at the time when needed.
This is the seventh book in my Slytherin Harry series and covers Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts.
Book 1: Harry Potter and the Muggle's Daughter
Book 2: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Book 3: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
Book 4: Harry Potter and the Blood Traitor's Daughter
Book 5: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Book 6: Harry Potter; Flesh, Blood and Bone
Book 7: Harry Potter and the Lady of the Lake
If you haven't read books 1-6 you won't know what's going on. But the bonus is you've got six completed books before you even get to this one!
Fair warning, this story will continue to be dark and have mature language and situations in it.
Harry Potter and the Lady of the Lake
Chapter XXXIV
Damned if you do, Damned if you Don't
A cloaked and hooded unspeakable slid through the shadows of the atrium in the ministry of magic. His quarry was waiting for him in an alcove near where the fireplaces for those flooing into the building arrived. Wordlessly he slid into the alcove and offered the bundle in his hand. "You had no trouble?" the second figure asked.
"None," the first confirmed.
The second man unfurled the bundle, revealing it to be one of the cloaks the unspeakables wore. "It won't be missed?"
"Not if returned before the morning."
The second figure slipped the cloak on and pulled the hood up over his head. "Take me to the Hall of Prophecy," he ordered. He was startled to find his voice was altered to his ears as well but pushed aside any extraneous thoughts as the first figure stepped out of the alcove and made his way across the atrium. The second man hesitated only a second in following. He was far too deep into this to back out now. Besides, everything had gone to plan so far and while it never paid to be overconfident he'd chosen his target well. It only proved the truth of blood supremacy that the half-blood was so easily controlled. Whatever his marks and accomplishments at school, the fool should obviously never have been recruited to the ranks of the unspeakables. The temptation to take a bit of revenge on the other man then and there was difficult to resist but he held himself in place. The mistake would be corrected soon enough once the Dark Lord took control and removed this fake government from office. Blood would reign supreme then and he could take the place that had been wrongfully denied him for so long. His revenge on those who had wronged him could wait a bit longer.
They boarded the lift and waited in silence the entirety of the ride down into the bowels of the building. The second man stopped the first before exiting. "You're certain the way is clear."
"I am certain."
"Very well then." The door opened and he followed the other man down a series of seemingly endless corridors that left him questioning if he would be able to make his way back out without getting lost. He was beginning to think his exit strategy might need to be altered when they arrived in front of a plain black door. There were no markings of any kind to indicate they were about to enter one of the most secret and secure areas in all of the magical world. The first man pushed the door open and the second quickly followed.
The room they entered was large and circular. Everything in it was black. The walls, the floors, the ceiling were all glistening black marble. Identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls. Sconces between each door held black candles that burned with blue flames. The candles were eerily alike, appearing to be exactly the same height. Identical blue flames topped each candle with not a one having burnt differently than the others. The cool, shimmering light they cast reflected on the shining floor making it seem as if they were walking on fathomless dark water instead of stone. The door they had entered swung shut, cutting off the bright shaft of light from the corridor.
The second man glanced back to find, from this side, the door was exactly the same as all the others. Even as he stood there, a deep rumbling noise filled the room and the doors and candles all began to spin around in a circle. It took only seconds for the blue flame of the candles to blur into lines of blue light that wrapped completely around the room. The second man's stomach heaved and he retched what little he'd managed to eat that day over his shoes.
The first man, because he hadn't been told he couldn't, laughed. "The least of what you deserve for this." The rumbling diminished and the spinning slowed to a stop.
The second man ignored the sick. He didn't dare use his wand for fear of triggering an alarm unless he absolutely had to. "You'll be leading me out of here," he growled.
"Of course," the first agreed.
"Which way?" the second man demanded. Without a word the first walked across the floor and reached for a door. The second man stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "How do you know it's the right one?"
"I asked," he answered.
"You asked?"
"Yes."
"Elaborate."
"The room is much like the sorting hat. I asked it which door and it told me."
The second man frowned. "So the room knows we're here, both of us?"
"No. I placed a Masking Charm on the robe I gave you."
"How do I know you aren't lying to me?"
"Because there aren't a dozen other unspeakables here detaining you already."
The second man ground his teeth. There really was no choice. Besides he'd had the first man under the Imperious Curse a dozen times already. Surely, if he were capable of breaking it he would have done so before this. "Let's go then. And make it quick."
The first man pushed the door open and the other followed. He was forced to blink his eyes a number of times while they adjusted from the barely lit space they'd just left into a room bright as the brightest day. A relentless ticking of hundreds and hundreds of clocks filled his ears, grating on his frayed nerves. He kept his mouth shut as they crossed the room; even refraining from lingering more than a second at the source of the bright, dazzling light, a towering crystal bell jar that was nearly as tall as himself that sat atop a desk. Tearing his eyes away from the humming bird cycling from egg to hatchling to adult to aged and back to egg again he hurried after the first man through a door on the far side of the room from where they'd entered.
He stopped in his tracks again, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of The Hall of Prophecy and the tens upon thousands of dusty glass orbs set upon the shelves. "Hurry," the first man called. "We're behind schedule." The second man looked up to see the first a good fifty meters ahead of him already. Hurrying to catch up he followed the first man to the ninety-seventh aisle where they turned down it only about ten feet. The first man pointed to the shelf and the little yellow tag affixed to it.
S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D.
Dark Lord
And (?) Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom
"What do you intend to do with it?" he asked.
The second man nearly told him to shut up but with the task nearly complete thought there little point in not telling him. Besides, he'd be dead in less than an hour anyway. "Give it to the Dark Lord and earn my place in the ranks of his most trusted servants."
"The Dark Lord, Voldemort?"
"Do not say his name," the second man hissed.
"Sorry."
"Take it," the second man ordered.
The first man reached out, plucked the orb from the shelf and offered it to the other. "It will only play for the subjects of the prophecy," he said. He set a replacement orb on the shelf.
"Yes, yes," the second man said. "Quickly now, lead me out of here."
"Of course."
"And you remember what it is you're to do once I've left you?"
"I'm to attempt to kill the minister. If I find that impossible I am to kill as many as I can before killing myself. Under no circumstances am I to be captured alive."
"Not that you are going to live to see it, but I trust this little episode shows you the truth of just which of us should have been head boy, Macmillian."
Michael Macmillan said nothing in response to his master's command as he led him back through the Time Room and then into the room with the spinning doors. Exiting from there they walked in silence back through the maze of hallways to the entrance to the realm of the unspeakables and then to the lift back to the atrium. The doors slid open and the second man stepped off. He didn't bother looking back as the doors closed again. Hurrying to the floos he tossed in a pinch of powder and swirled away in rush of green flames.
With the talent competition over and only a bit more than five weeks left in the term most students' attention turned fully to exams. Fifth and seventh-years especially were to be seen buckled down in the library or with books propped up in the Great Hall while eating. For Harry, Ginny and their four closest friends though a palpable unease settled in the vacuum left by the competition's absence. They had five years worth of, to put it mildly, bad experiences with the end of the school year. Nor did it help that the Dark Tosser and his supporters were launching almost daily attacks from Azkaban Island.
Perhaps the worst aspect of it though was the seeming disinterest by the public, press and even in some sense the ministry itself in regards to the situation. Voldemort and his followers were only attacking in strictly non-magical areas and it seemed a good bit of the wizarding world just didn't give a damn about it. As long as he was leaving wizard-kind alone, they couldn't be bothered. Never mind that about twenty-five percent of the wizarding population were first generation from non-magical parents and very much still living in both worlds.
It seemed it took only between two and three generations for people to forget where they came from and think it was someone else's problem. It was a bit better at Hogwarts than the outside world, but even within its hallowed walls non-magical borns like Hermione were growing ever more angered with their pure-blood and half-blood classmates. Of course Minister Bones was leading the charge to change attitudes, but it was slow going. The upper echelons of wizarding society were, and likely always would be, dominated by those of so-called pure and half-blood status. They made up about seventy-five percent of the population and no amount of changed attitudes could change cold, hard demographics. Minister Bones had already made a hard ask of many of those influential wizards and witches in getting them to pick a side in the war at all and getting them to stretch even further to the non-magical population was proving a hard sell indeed.
The six of them had had a very long discussion on the whys and hows and come to the conclusion it was basically ignorance that caused it. Those so dismissive of their non-magical cousins would be far less so if they knew just what they were capable of. Of course that ignorance could be working in their favor as well. A good number of them, if they recognized just how precarious the situation was becoming, might have chosen to side with Voldemort instead of the Minister Bones. All Harry knew was, the sooner they put the bastard down, the better. The only problem with that was they had only destroyed four of a suspected six Horcruxes and hadn't a clue on where the last two might be. They didn't even know for certain it was two they were looking for. Sure, they knew, or at least strongly suspected, the bastard had intended to make six, leaving himself as the seventh fragment, but if he'd actually gotten that far they had no clue.
"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Daphne asked. They'd gotten an emergency summons that the Order would be meeting and as such, were making their way to through the castle to Bill and Lily's quarters.
"No/Not a clue," came the answers of the others.
"We'll find out soon enough," Luna said. She knocked on the door before pushing it open. Surprisingly, Ron was part of the group waiting for them.
"Excellent," Mali said on spotting them. "Come in and take a seat."
"Is this good or bad?" Harry asked while the others exchanged greetings and hugs with various of the adults.
"Where's Mum and Bill?" Ginny asked.
"At the ministry," Mali said. "Helping Amelia mount an attack against Azkaban Island."
Amelia glanced at Bill. "I can still stop this," she said.
He shook his head. "No."
"Bill," Lily tried.
"He's guilty, Lily," Bill cut her off. "Earned a death sentence a dozen times over. I can't be party to offering him clemency when I wouldn't for anyone else."
"But this way?"
"You, Ginny, Rose, all the rest, it's not a difficult choice," Bill said.
Lily grimaced. "All right then.
Amelia considered another few moments. They'd been through it what felt countless times already. She picked up the mirror on her desk. Percy had been given a dozen or more chances by herself and Bill to turn from this path. Whatever difficulties since Arthur had been murdered, the boy had been raised to know right from wrong. He had made his choice and if she were to have any integrity at all, she couldn't grant clemency where no other would be given the same consideration. "Follow him, but do not detain," she said. Silently she added, Forgive me, Arthur.
"Yes, Ma'am," Kingsley's voice came back to her.
Half an hour after leaving the ministry, Percy was ushered into the throne room of Slytherin Castle. He'd been given instruction on how to behave upon arrival at the island and walked purposely across the floor to a spot a few feet short of the dias upon which the throne and the Dark Lord sat. Keeping his eyes down he dropped to one knee. "My Lord," he said.
Silence greeted him and despite the warnings he'd been given it was difficult not to fidget. "This is the one?" Voldemort asked.
If the Dark Lord took his time responding, Lord Parkinson took no such liberties and immediately stepped forward from his place along the side of the hall. "He is, my Lord."
"He is from a family of blood traitors?"
"Lucius began teaching him the error of his upbringing, my Lord. I have continued it."
"Indeed," Voldemort said. "And I am given to believe he has succeeded?"
"He tells me he has, my Lord."
Percy remained motionless in the silence that followed. "The desire for revenge is strong in you, my young friend." Percy said nothing. "Particularly in regards to your eldest brother and your sister."
How in the world? Percy thought.
The Dark Lord laughed softly. "Voldemort knows, my young friend. He always knows… I see that frightens you." Percy gasped as Nagini slithered out from her place beside Voldemort's throne. "Do not move, my young friend," Voldemort hissed. His voice clearly carried a tone of warning that to disobey would be a very bad thing indeed. "Hold her gaze." Percy desperately tried to control his shaking as the serpent moved into a position she could tip her head up and meet his eyes. The serpent slowly opened her mouth, exposing the rows of glistening white fangs. Even as Percy's heart thundered, his breath stuck in his chest. "You do well," Voldemort said. The snake lowered to the floor and backed a few feet away from him and it was everything Percy could do not to sag to the floor. "Place what you bring on the floor." His hand trembling, moving slowly, Percy withdrew the glass orb from his pocket and set it on the ground. "Nagini," Voldemort said. The snake stretched out and took the orb in her mouth. Turning she climbed the dias and deposited the orb in Voldemort's outstretched hand.
He held it up in front of his face, examining it for a moment. "You have done…" he trailed off while tipping his head to the side. His eyes darted to Percy still kneeling before him. "Away," he snarled, grabbing Nagini. The orb clattered to the floor and rolled past Percy just as the first bomb took down the wards. Not a second later another ten bombs appeared in various rooms within the castle and its courtyards; including the throne room. Percy never even managed to look up before the explosion incinerated him. Across the island another twenty bombs turned the entire island into a living hell of fire.
An hour after the attack, Lily, escorted by Andi, returned to Hogwarts. The door had barely shut when, Harry asked, "Well?" Lily simply went and slumped beside Ginny, pulling the girl in tightly. "That… isn't encouraging," Harry said.
"The attack happened as planned," Andi said. She dropped into a seat beside Ron. "We don't know the full details yet, but we believe all but a handful of the Dark Lord's supporters were killed… We fear the Dark Lord himself escaped as well." She stopped, sighing deeply.
"Fuck," Harry muttered in the silence that followed.
"There's more," Andi said.
"More?" Ginny asked.
"I'm sorry, Love," Lily whispered. "Your brother, Percy, was killed in the attack."
Bill stood at the window in the quarters he shared with Lily, staring out onto the castle lawns. Lily stepped behind him and rested her hand on his back.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Bill shuddered, and whispered, "He used to steal my text books."
Lily said nothing, only moving to rest her head against his back with one arm around his waist. "And we didn't even get the bastard," he muttered. He shuddered again and silent tears slid down his face while she held him.
"Ginny?" Harry asked after closing the door of their bedroom. She grabbed a crystalline statue of a mermaid from the desk and with a primal shriek of rage hurled it against the wall. Harry didn't move. For near a minute she stood in the middle of the floor, taking deep, heaving breaths. Turning to Harry their eyes locked. "Hold me," she pleaded. His arms went around her before she'd even finished her plea.
Lady Nymphadora Weasley–Black, or Tonks as she preferred – she really was going to kill her cousin for saddling her with the Black title as he had – woke to an empty bed. She'd grown used to the heat of Charlie's body long before they married beside her and it was quite jarring when he wasn't there. Away matches were not high on her list of likes. It really was ridiculous he had to spend the night with the team in a hotel. Seriously, were they sorcerers or not? Not to mention a portkey on match day for every player would have been cheaper than the hotel and meals and everything that went with it. Still, as annoying as it was, at least they'd done away with quarantining the team in a hotel the night before home matches as well. Another ten lost nights with an empty bed a year might have had her threatening the team's management. Of course it had been a lonely wife's very threats against the owner three years before Charlie had joined the squad that had gotten the rule changed. So, you know, go lonely wives!
Though she would gladly have taken that situation for the present. Shucking the covers off she grabbed one of Charlie's old jumpers – it was ridiculous just how much bigger he was than her – tugged it on and went in search of her husband. As the door to Aaron's room was open, she didn't have to go far. Much like the unexpected title of Lady Black being dropped on her, being a mother long before she'd thought she'd might had dropped as well. It wasn't that kids weren't on the table for either Charlie or herself, but, auror and quidditch player, it had been a future discussion. A distant future discussion. But then the attack on Bourton had happened and Aaron had quite literally landed in their laps. She'd come home from a thirty-six hour day, collapsed into bed and woke up twelve hours later to find Charlie had temporary custody of the child and two weeks later, she was an instant mum. It hadn't been easy at all. Aaron's injuries had been quite horrific. But her mum and dad and Molly had all stepped into the breach with them; helping to ease the transition for the two new parents and their son and she really couldn't imagine her life without him now.
"Lug?" she asked softly from the door. Charlie was standing beside Aaron's crib just watching him sleep.
Charlie didn't look up. "They tried to kill him," he whispered. "Didn't know him or his parents or anything, just driving down the road and they thought they'd kill him."
"Yes," she answered softly.
He finally looked at her. "How could my brother want to be part of that?" he asked. The pain in his eyes and voice was tangible and it tore at her insides like nothing she had ever felt.
"I don't know, Babe."
Charlie shuddered and sank to his knees and she rushed across the room to him "Let it out, Babe," she soothed as tears slid down her cheeks. "Let it out."
Early the morning after their failed attempt to kill Voldemort's body and capture the sliver of soul before it could escape Bill returned to the site of his childhood home with Ron, Ginny, Harry and Lily trailing him. He'd known this moment was coming; known Percy was walking a path of no return long before his idiot brother had first cast the Imperious Curse on Michael Macmillan. He'd tried; the goddess knew he'd tried. But, going all the way back to his betrayal of Ginny for her sorting – the sheer irony considering how many of his new friends were former Slytherins was mind boggling – Percy had made his choices. Including that first Imperious.
Of course, being an unspeakable, it was something Michael trained against regularly. He'd never once actually been under Percy's influence. But he'd played along that first time and gone to Minister Bones with the information. Amelia, with Bill's help, had gathered further evidence with additional witnesses over the next twelve times Percy had cast the curse on Michael. They'd tried Percy in absentia; sentenced him to life in prison for the Unforgivable. The information Percy had sought and whom he had sought it for had compounded the crime and a death sentence had been issued. Bill didn't know what it said of him for how easy he had found his decisions to be. But when he'd faltered in his course, all he had needed to do was picture Ginny, Lily, or Rose's face and his resolve would harden. Trudging up the steps now, he cursed his brother's soul. The cowardly little worm had been lucky enough to die for his choices… He, on the other hand, got to live with them. Gathering himself he knocked on the door and pushed it open. "Mum?"
"William," she said happily. She hurried to hug him but drew up short as her two youngest, Lily and Harry followed him in. "Oh," she said, surprised. The sound of the floo activating drew her attention and Charlie and Tonks stepped through.
"Good," Bill said on seeing the twins at the table, "you're here too."
"William?" Molly asked cautiously.
Bill took her and guided her to a chair. "Sit down, Mum." She did as he asked but as she looked at him expectantly, his courage deserted him. No matter what Percy had done he was her child and whatever her faults, Bill knew his mother loved her children. He had never once believed she didn't want the best for them. It was just her ideas of what was best were very often at odds with what her children wanted and she didn't know how to recognize her children's lives were not hers, and it was breaking his heart as it became apparent to his mother something was very wrong. Worse, he, more than anyone, had signed Percy's death warrant. Her hand came up to cover her mouth and she slowly shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Mum," he said.
"Sorry for what?" George asked.
"Percy is dead," Bill answered. His mother let out a cry and slid from her chair to the floor. Bill bent and scooped her into his arms and carried her into the parlour and the couch.
"Dead?" Fred croaked.
"H–how?" George asked.
"Because he was a Death Eater!" Ron snarled. He turned for the door, slamming it open and letting it crash closed behind him again as he stalked out and across the back garden.
"Ron!" Ginny cried rushing after him.
Harry went to follow but his mum caught him. "Let them be for a bit." Harry looked worriedly out the open door but reluctantly gave in to her suggestion.
"Erm," Fred said.
"Maybe someone wants to explain?" George said.
Lily pulled Harry to the table where she sat down across from the twins. "Percy has been seeking to join Voldemort for some time," she began. "Last night, we launched an attack on Azkaban. Percy was there and, along with all but a handful of Voldemort's supporters, he died in the attack." It left out a great many details, but she'd managed to convince Bill the full truth was more than any of his family needed. The depth of Percy, Bill, her own or anyone else actions would only make things far worse for them. Ignorance, while it would do nothing for Bill or herself, would spare his family, and especially his mother, far more pain. And if others might call it cowardice, she could live with that.
Ginny followed Ron out to the paddock. "Ron?" she asked softly.
"I don't want to talk about it," he answered.
"Ok," she agreed. "Just know that I'm angry with him too." Ron didn't respond and after about a minute she thought she'd let him be. "I'll leave you be," she said.
He didn't turn around but his voice kept her from going. "You can stay." She hesitated a moment before edging up behind him to wrap her arms around his middle and rest her head against his back. They stood there for a very long time before one of them spoke. "Do you know how close it was to being me?" he whispered.
"Being you?" Ginny asked.
Ron turned to face her, forcing her to let him go. "You were here, Ginny. I was right with him that summer when Bill was trapped in the pyramid." He huffed a sardonic laugh. "We condemned you for being a Slytherin and then he goes and joins up with the assholes who give Slytherins such a bad name. I hated you just as much as he did."
"But something changed for you."
"I keep thinking about Auntie moving in and then Bill taking me and the twins out of here and the fact he couldn't force Percy to do anything because he was already done with school and out on his own."
"You wonder if the only thing that saved you is you were younger and Bill could force you to do things?"
Ron shrugged. "Maybe."
"Honestly," she said, "it may have something to do with it. And it may not. Maybe if you and Percy were switched in ages you end up in the same place he did and maybe you don't. Maybe you still manage to figure it out. We all have people influencing us, Ron. But just like Percy made his choices, it was you who took those influences and acted on them. None of us get where we are alone, but don't shortchange the role you play in being the person you are. And I quite like who you are."
Ron watched her for a minute, considering her words. "Can I ask you something?"
Ginny shrugged. "I may not answer, but go ahead."
"Why did you end up in Slytherin?" Ginny recoiled slightly from him but he plowed on. "I mean I've figured out most of us really have the qualities to be in any of the houses, and that just because you're in Slytherin doesn't mean you're a bad person. But Bill says you didn't want to be there, and that you hate it. And Mrs Tonks says the hat isn't supposed to put us somewhere we don't want or is bad for us. So why?"
Ginny took a moment to gather herself from the shock of the question. Difficult as it was, there was no accusation in it; just an honest curiosity to understand. Would that he'd asked her this the morning after the sorting she wondered what might be different. It didn't matter though, because he hadn't. What it would change was pointless to consider. What she had instead, was this moment, and all that mattered was what she did with it.
"I do hate it," she said. "Or at least I hate the label I've been given. Honestly, most of the people in the house, especially now, are decent and I imagine I like them as much as I'd like most people in any of the other houses. But the label persists. I didn't want it then and I don't want it now. You saw how long my sorting took. I argued, I begged, but that blasted hat said I was strong enough I could be grow to be an example of a pureblood witch who wasn't a racist moron and put me there anyway. And maybe I've proved the thing correct. I don't know. But I was put there against my will. I'll wear the stain of the evil house the rest of my life and I resent the hell out of it, and if I do anything with my life after this war is over it will be to end the sorting as we know it and burn that damn hat once I have."
Ron's eyes widened. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Think about it, Ron," she answered. "This war had been being fought for over a thousand years. And it will continue to be fought until we stop the idiotic practice of honoring the man who started it. I don't know what the answer is, perhaps going forward there are only three houses, but after a thousand years, don't you think it's about time for Slytherin and his ideals to finally die?"
Ron considered for a minute before he nodded. "You're right." He stepped to her and wrapped her tight in his arms. "Bill's right, you know. You really are the best of us."
Ginny tucked her arms up between them. "I don't think so, but thank you."
Author's notes:
I never wanted Ron, or Molly's relationship with Ginny to deteriorate as badly as they did in this, but every time I tried to write them out of being sorry excuses for human beings they insisted on digging their holes deeper. I think though, that this really about brings Ron full circle.
Also, I hope I don't regret letting Voldemort escape. I honestly have gone back and forth with having this plan succeed in seeing his body killed and soul captured and the story finishing almost anticlimactically without a big fight between Voldemort and Harry and with the posting of this chapter I'm now committed to developing some sort of final conflict that is still eluding me. Crap… Or to quote Lily, Fuck, shit, shit, shit, and fuck again.
And next week's torture; Chapter 35, She Was Dragon