Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Chapter 19 - Please Don't Say Goodbye

Voldemort slowly unclenched his fist, surveying those bowed before him with unconcealed contempt. Each face was shadowed by a hood. The scene reminded Voldemort of that wretched graveyard, and it only intensified his rage.

He silently seethed, hand twitching towards where his wand would usually rest. The itch to curse the insolence out of his followers was non-abating, a consistent irritation that caused him endless frustration. A deep longing to feel the familiar surge whenever he held someone beneath its fury only served to remind him of what he'd lost, and the one he'd sworn to put an end to that very night - it should've been so simple, so easy to just snuff the boy's life out.

Instead, Voldemort had reigned those thoughts in. It was, after all, the dawn of a new era. A return to tradition. Therefore, he'd dignified the boy with a duel. Potter could not hope to match even a trace of his power, or so he'd thought.

The boy had surprised him, yes. But stood a chance against him? Not at all, for he'd been playing with him, as a man might fiddle with a twig before snapping it. It'd been a grave mistake. An error uncharacteristic of him, and one Voldemort vowed to never make again. He should've learnt from that Halloween night to take no chances with the boy, and strike him down at the first opportunity, with no observation for custom. The wand that'd served him for so many years now lay in splinters purely because of his honour.

Now, his current wand lay on the armrest beside him. It lacked the fervour and raw strength that his previous one had possessed with apparent elegance, and he struggled to have any personal attachment to it. Over the past week, since he'd made his return, he'd had numerous shady wandmakers manufacture a vast number of replacement wands for him, but this was the best they could offer.

After disposing of the incompetent, snivelling craftsmen, he'd focused his efforts elsewhere. The wand would just have to do until he could track down Ollivander or Mykew, the former of whom had seemingly disappeared into thin air from his store each time he'd visited under the cover of the fading daylight.

Holding his followers beneath a curse now brought him no joy. On the other hand, it quite displeased him to use such a lesser wand for the task, almost as if he were disgracing the memory of his former yew wand. Voldemort could still remember the euphoric sensation of using the Cruciatus on Harry Potter, his hand tingling as he recalled it again.

His followers stood ever so still in their semicircle, lest they make a movement to single themselves out from the group. Little light shone through the tall, shuttered windows on either side of the hall, casting thin, white lines across each of their dark robes. The air within was heavy, the gloom almost palpable.

The Malfoys had a fair estate, one he'd not hesitated to commandeer. Large marble columns and tall ceilings were perfect for a man of his stature, if not somewhat dull with the blank, grey walls.

"Lucius…" he hissed. "Step forward."

One of the taller figures hurried to kneel before him.

"My lord."

"What have you been able to achieve within the Ministry?"

The man spoke evenly, yet he could detect a hint of fear.

"They remain as stubborn as ever, my lord. It is highly unusual. The Minister seems to have pivoted from his former position once more, seeking to distance his administration from the ICW."

Voldemort cursed silently.

"See to it that he does not," he gritted out. "We cannot afford to have them anything less than united, otherwise we have no hope for infiltration. Not after that worthless Croatian was too slow to avoid a schoolboy's transfiguration. How goes the efforts of your colleagues in the ICW?"

"Spectacularly, my lord," Lucius said, apparently relieved at finally being able to give him something other than bad news, "they have done well to get through most representative offices. Only a few remain, and we will have them within our clutches soon, you have my word. The entire organisation is on the cusp of being under our control, and many have joined our cause willingly."

He nodded slowly as he considered the information.

"Very well, Lucius," Voldemort replied, his anger abating ever so slightly. "You had better resolve your shortcomings within the British Ministry, otherwise the future will not look so bright for you. Look to your colleagues as inspiration for such a task."

"Yes, my lord."

The man rose and retreated to his spot in the circle, like a dog with its tail between its legs. It quite pleased Voldemort that he was still able to inspire such fear in stuck-up, arrogant men of status such as Lucius.

He dismissed the group with a wave of his hand, and they withdrew in much the same manner as Lucius had from him. Drumming his fingers on the armrest of the throne-like chair in which he sat, Voldemort returned to seething over the insolent schoolboy. He could not hope to pose a threat, but as long as the prophecy remained, the boy would have to die.

Of that he was certain.


Harry was finally released from the hospital wing exactly a week since the final task of the Triwizard Tournament had taken place. He'd missed the End-of-Term Feast and now found himself in an empty school. Who won the House Cup was a mystery to him, and he couldn't bring himself to care. Neither did he care for the feast much.

What did weigh on his mind, however, was Fleur.

She'd been able to stay behind for a few days, with her father being able to secure an international Portkey for her. Whenever he woke, Fleur had been beside him, either reading, writing, or staring blankly off into the distance. After all the time he'd spent with her over the past few months, close to a year all up, it frightened him that she'd no longer be there.

Her imminent departure was a topic they'd avoided deliberately, neither wanting to acknowledge its inevitability. His waking hours had been spent discussing everything else, the topic receiving a wide berth from both of them. Otherwise, Harry had spent much of the time sleeping, due to the combination of physical and magical exhaustion he'd been suffering from.

Sirius had come by a few times, morphing back into his human form when the wing was empty. He'd presented Harry with some new glasses on his first visit, as Sebastien had promised. The spectacles appeared similar to his old ones but had a more refined look to them, their fit also being an improvement. Fleur had taken great joy in sliding them onto his nose. She'd said they made him look more put together. How she could say that whilst he was lying in a hospital bed, he had no clue, but he would take the compliment regardless.

Dumbledore had also come by to update him on his talk with the Minister. Fleur had given the Headmaster the side-eye during their discussion, and Harry had to admit he wasn't too keen to try and convince Cornelius Fudge that what Dumbledore had said to him was true, though the Headmaster had asked him to try.

The Minister had reportedly railed against Dumbledore again over his shortcomings, and Harry was sure that Fleur would agree quite vehemently with that. It would be a rather stupid move for the two of them to ally themselves with someone Fudge seemed to openly disapprove of, and they'd discussed as much between them.

Whilst a questionable character, they ultimately believed that if they needed to, they could win the Minister over. Siding with the Headmaster at present would not do them any good, and rather reaching out to him through Sebastien may be a better option. Fleur had hinted at her father attempting to make contact with the Minister's office in regard to Sirius.

Now he stood outside the castle's guest quarters, waiting for her to say goodbye to him.

The door swung open, and Harry was once again taken aback at seeing her red-rimmed eyes. Fleur had never seemed like the teary type. Yet, her shows of emotion towards him just made Harry more determined to give her all he could.

He knew had some thinking to do over the summer, but he had to be sure first before he was certain. It would be a very big leap for him, but the guilt gnawed away at him whenever she professed her love and he didn't respond in kind. Harry couldn't bring himself to continue like that.

She ran at him, and Harry barely caught her without falling back. He tightened his hold around her waist as she sniffled into his freshly-ironed white button-up, courtesy of the Hogwarts elves.

"It won't be for long," he murmured, smoothing back her delicate silver hair. "I'll be fine."

"Non," she whispered back, "now that I know how dreadful those relatives of yours are, it feels like I am sending you off to prison."

"Dumbledore said I just have to stay for a few weeks, and then I can do whatever," Harry said. "I've had worse."

"That is exactly what scares me," she admitted. "You should not have to deal with all of this. Your Headmaster has no clue what he is talking about, the silly man. He never checked on you."

He had to concede her point, though he didn't think the man to be all bad. There was always a reason, and Dumbledore had acknowledged his mistakes concerning the tournament at the very least. At least he'd be able to cope with his relatives better, feeling far more stable than he had at the start of the year. Perhaps it was because his soul was whole once again, without the Horcrux that he'd lived most of his life with. Or perhaps it was Fleur.

She drew back somewhat, touching his face carefully with her warm fingertips and gazing deeply into his eyes. Their height difference was nothing absurd, yet Harry liked it when Fleur looked up at him. It gave him a sense of responsibility over her, and he vowed to do the best he could for her.

Fleur suddenly surged towards him, a glint of hunger in her deep blue stare the only warning Harry received. He matched her passion equally with his own, their kiss conveying what neither could put into words.

Harry eventually broke it off gently, looking at her with a touch of concern. He hadn't expected Fleur to react this poorly to what had ultimately been inevitable. Though, he hadn't handled it too well himself.

"You will write to me regularly," she demanded softly, prodding a finger into his chest. "You will also come to our home for the rest of the summer, as soon as that wretched Headmaster allows it. He should not even have a say in any of this."

Unable to hold it back at her ardent defence of him, Harry grinned at her with a fond expression.

"Yes, dear."

His statement elicited a small grin from Fleur, who lightened somewhat.

"I am certain that I will know at the first sign of trouble, so do not try to hide anything from me. My nature runs deeper than you think, Harry. Remember what Maman told you," she said.

They had yet to figure out exactly what the 'bond' itself was, yet Harry suspected Fleur knew far more than he did. It had been something they had tiptoed around whilst he was in the hospital wing, and he didn't quite know why Fleur had chosen to avoid it for the moment. Regardless, he followed her lead on the topic.

"I will," he responded. "I promise."

She stepped back again, almost reluctantly, before coming back to steal a final kiss from him. It slowly turned possessive, with Fleur resting her head on his shoulder again after breaking it off. He felt her warm breath against his ear as she murmured into it.

"Good. Stay safe, Harry, and stay out of trouble."

The first word carried an edge, though her tone softened considerably as she spoke his name

"You too," Harry said, reluctant to drag things out more.

He wondered just how long he would have to wait to hear the beautiful, faint French lilt of her voice as she swept past him slowly, seemingly trying to prolong their contact as long as she could.

Harry watched her as she strode down the corridor, slowly becoming more morose. The timed Portkey clutched tightly in her left hand was due to go off within minutes once she reached the edge of the newly re-established Hogwarts wards. For the second time, he wondered just how long the wait would be.

As he wandered towards the Headmaster's office, his thoughts raced. How long would he need to spend with the Dursleys? When would he next see Fleur? What would they do next year? Fleur would be finished with school, after all. He sunk further into himself, not even brightening when he saw Sirius.

The older man looked a far sight better now than he had in the cave near Hogsmeade. His dark hair, whilst still hanging down to his shoulders, looked effortlessly styled. Harry suspected it was anything but effortless. His beard was well-groomed too, just beyond what one may consider a five-o'clock shadow. The robes he wore radiated wealth.

"Hey, kiddo!" he greeted, slapping a hand on his shoulder and taking in his solemn visage. "Look, I know you don't want to go back there, and I don't want you to either, but Dumbledore won't budge."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, sighing.

He was anything but eager, but again decided that dragging it out was the worst thing he could do.

"Let's get going then," Sirius replied, seemingly sharing his desire to get it over with.

The gargoyle parted without a word from either of them, and the stairs slowly carried them up into Dumbledore's office. Oddly enough, they were only greeted by the curious gazes of past Hogwarts Headmasters that hung around the room, shifting in their paintings as Harry and Sirius entered.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked quietly.

He'd had the impression that the Headmaster would want to see him off or explain something to him. Perhaps even give him a warning about whatever danger Voldemort's resurrection would place him in.

"He's busy," Sirius said, eyes fixed on a large golden locket that rested in the centre of the Headmaster's desk.

Harry remained quiet, expecting Sirius to elaborate. As he saw the man throw a few cautious glances toward the portraits peering down at them unashamedly, Harry realised there was a reason as to why he'd been brushed off.

Sirius leaned over to brush some invisible lint off Harry's shoulder and adjust his shirt.

"I'll explain later."

It was almost too quiet to hear, but Harry understood. He responded with a barely-perceptible bob of his head. Though Harry knew it was an act, Sirius' actions felt almost fatherly, and he wondered if he should get his hopes up again.

"Hold on," Sirius said as he gripped his arm, jerking him out of his negative thoughts.

With no further warning, Harry was left gasping as he felt the uncomfortable squeezing sensation of apparition compress his lungs. He leant over on the footpath, hands on his knees.

Once he'd regained his senses, he was dismayed to recognise the street that they were on, though he knew there was no alternative. Wisteria Walk was almost as depressingly uniform as Privet Drive, but at least word of his supposed less-than-desirable reputation had not reached all of its inhabitants.

Sirius put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Harry. I'd forgotten you weren't used to it. My mistake, but well done on not throwing up."

He looked up, seeing an elderly woman smiling at him from her front garden before she laid eyes on Sirius. Her eyes widened comically at seeing his attire, and Harry forgot about his troubles for a moment, stifling his laughter.

"Ah. It appears I've forgotten something too."

As soon as they were out of the woman's eyesight, Sirius made a few discrete movements of his wand. His robes soon became an elegant suit that Harry was sure would put Uncle Vernon to shame. Seeing his godfather's wand made him miss the comforting feel of his own. It was like a small, yet vital piece of him had been torn away.

They rounded the corner onto Privet Drive in silence.

"So, what is Dumbledore doing?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I wish we could have somewhere more private to discuss this," Sirius began quietly, "but I don't believe we will have the chance until you leave the Dursleys. You at least have your own room, correct?"

Harry nodded, picturing the cupboard with dread. So far, at least he'd been able to keep that a secret. He wondered if he'd ever want to tell anyone. Some things were better left unspoken.

It was then that his promise to Fleur just minutes earlier came back to haunt him. He couldn't do that. If she asked, he refused to lie to her.

"Harry?"

"Yes, yes I do," he replied hastily.

He gritted his teeth, cursing his lapse in focus. He'd overcome the nightmares, the tournament, the soul drama, a killing curse, and his ostracism from the rest of the school. There was no reason that he wouldn't be able to make it through this summer.

Sirius had given him a lingering look but had otherwise let him be, walking beside him silently.

Though all the houses were the same, he hated that he recognised Number 4. To anyone else, it would have been impossible to pick out, but it was all Harry had known for the first decade of his life. Where other primary school students were excited to go home, it was the part of the day that Harry dreaded the most. Second-worst was when the house's perfectly-trimmed lawn came into view. The lack of a car in the driveway gave him some momentary relief. Usually, that meant only his aunt would be home.

He was stopped by Sirius again, his feet having nearly carried him up to the front door.

Sirius just looked at him for a moment, and Harry stared back.

"Look, Harry. This was the last thing I wanted to do, but Dumbledore had a point when he said that the blood protection given to you by your mother would be more important than ever now. If I'm going to put you first, this is the responsible thing for me to do. I did have a shouting match with Dumbledore over you not having a wand yet, but he assured me that he had appropriate measures in place to make it unnecessary. I don't think he wants you risking a Ministry warning either."

Harry reluctantly nodded.

"That's fair. I can't blame you for that. Thanks for trying," he responded.

"Come, let's get inside," Sirius murmured. "I'd love for your relatives to give me trouble, it gives me a reason to curse them."

They walked up to the front of the house, where Sirius knocked on the door forcefully. Harry allowed himself a small smile as he saw his godfather school his features into his most intimidating expression. He thought Sirius looked every bit the aristocrat.

The door opened slowly, and his aunt's pale face slowly appeared. She gasped when she saw Sirius.

"You!" she exclaimed, pointing a shaky finger at him.

"Me," he replied, grinning. "You should let us inside before you cause a scene, Petunia."

Harry looked around, and sure enough, he saw several faces peaking through windows across the street. He wondered what they did all day to notice him as soon as he arrived.

His aunt reluctantly eased the door open further and stepped back.

"Remember your agreement with Dumbledore, Petunia," Sirius warned. "Is your room upstairs?"

"Yes, first on the right," Harry said.

Petunia wordlessly retreated towards the living room with one last fearful glance at the both of them. They trudged up the stairs together, with Harry overly conscious of what lay beneath them. Once Harry reached the top behind his godfather, he nearly ran right into him.

Sirius stood still, a furious expression on his face as he took in the numerous locks and cat flap.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," he gritted out. "Does Dumbledore know?"

"He might not," Harry admitted. "It doesn't matter too much, though."

He'd made peace with that part of his summer long ago. It certainly beat the cupboard.

"Doesn't matter!?"

Sirius looked at him like he'd been hit over the head, before springing back into action.

"Of course it matters! Right, you keep your head down. Your trunk should already be in there - I've got some people to talk to. I'll be back as soon as I've finished dealing with this, and I'll tell you about what Dumbledore's been doing, whether he likes it or not."

Harry was grabbed in a brief, yet firm hug, before Sirius stormed down the stairs and slammed the door behind him. Part of him dreaded what his godfather would do, but he was keen to see the results. Maybe he'd be out of here sooner.

It didn't help that now he had to worry about what Voldemort would be doing over the summer. Harry didn't doubt he'd made things worse for himself by destroying both of their wands.

He decided he'd owl Ginny and Hermione at the very least, both to warn them to be careful and to ask if they could fill him in on any news.


A/N

Bit of a slow chapter, but rest assured it shall be worth it. I'm glad I managed to get this one out on time. Thanks again for all of your reviews - they do put a smile on my face. Feel free to add your own :)