VI
Harry started awake, his hand gingerly pressing against his ribs as he rose from the chair. He'd fallen asleep during his meditation, which he had spent in his memories, something he was doing more and more these days. With the memory of his hunt for Slytherin's locket fresh in his mind, he walked over to the table where he kept the Horcruxes, rubbing his right palm as he went. A locket and a cup. He was still missing one, Ravenclaw's diadem.
Heading to Gryffindor's study, Harry decided to take a little detour into the dining hall, a fancy room he'd only been in once before. It was furnished with a long mahogany table, high backed chairs and a pair of very nice chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a big fireplace opposite the door to keep the room warm and cozy. Above the fireplace hung a big painting, featuring four people in their prime. From left to right; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and finally Slytherin.
Harry glanced at the painting, his mind wandering to Gryffindor. To be sure, he missed the old man something fierce. They'd become more than just mentor and pupil; they'd become friends. Walking past the fireplace, Harry came upon the right hand wall, which was practically littered with portraits of various people.
Walking slowly along the wall, Harry found the painting he was looking for; a painting of Rowena and her daughter Helena. Ravenclaw was wearing her diadem, which seemed to enhance her already staggering beauty. Helena was as beautiful as her mother, although she did lack her mother's mature grace.
Harry stared at Helena for a good, long while. Why was she so familiar? Had he seen her picture somewhere before? At Hogwarts? No, that wasn't it, he was sure. Still, the feeling was there, gnawing at his brain. Oh well. Harry limped away, but when he was at the door, he saw a torch outside the room, casting a somewhat ghostly light upon the wall.
Harry stared at it and he could almost feel the gears in his head fall into place. He went back the picture and had his revelation confirmed. The Grey Lady... Ravenclaw's house ghost was Rowena's daughter!? Harry stared at the painting a while longer, very annoyed with himself for not paying more attention to the ghosts of Hogwarts and for not figuring this out earlier. Well, to be fair, the Grey Lady was even less sociable than the Bloody Baron, so...
He had known for some time he was Hogwarts bound and really, it changed nothing, knowing Helena was, in fact at Hogwarts. While he knew the ghost could shed light on the events of the diadem's disappearance, there was little chance she knew where it was now, almost a millennia later.
He had no idea how long she had wandered the halls of Hogwarts, but he was fairly certain the founders had left this life behind before she found her way to the school. Harry knew Gryffindor would have told him about her, otherwise.
Harry went to his room, utterly exhausted, the pain was returning with a vengeance and his thigh throbbed angrily. He stared at his wounded thigh for a minute, his thoughts returning to the village from earlier. He had been avoiding thinking about this, trying to focus on healing and the Horcruxes. It would not do. They knew what he looked like, obviously. Well they had known ever since he raided Malfoy manor all those months ago.
Harry had been a thorn in Riddle's side for years, of course, but ever since that night at Malfoy manor Harry had really been prickling his nemesis bloody. He'd interrupted several raids by Death Eaters and more than once, he'd caught a few and left them for the Order to find. He was playing with fire, he knew, as some of the raids had obviously been meant as a trap and at least once, aside from this battle, he had been lucky not to get overwhelmed.
Still, Riddle had only appeared before him once and their very recent battle had been a close one and the Snake had fled the field. He'd had a bit of a tumble with Bellatrix Black some time ago, as well.
One of only six from Riddle's inner circle he'd come into contact with and three of those were dead. Harry rubbed the back of his head absent mindedly. The thought of Bellatrix brought about a dull throb. It was always there, that little tingle. He could ignore it, if he did not think of Bella, but sometimes it was unavoidable.
Almost every time Harry had thwarted a Death Eater raid, he had arrived on the scene ahead of his enemies, due to Fawkes' warnings. Harry had not seen Fawkes since the Phoenix had brought him here, to Gryffindor's stronghold. The warnings came to him in his sleep.
Harry had, at first questioned the bird's ability to obtain this information, but soon stopped, as he had found Fawke's visions and warnings to be sound. That was not to say Fawkes was always on time. He'd been late on a few occasions, people had been taken, killed or worse. Harry lay down, the scars on his back tugging ever so slightly as he did. He traced a scar above his cheekbone absent mindedly with one finger...
Harry stirred the small cauldron three times clockwise and four times counter-clockwise, making sure he got it exactly right. This healing potion seemed to be a good idea, assuming he got it right. He had never been good with potions and despite his newfound powers and all the knowledge passed on to him by Gryffindor, he still was no good at it. Come to think of it, why hadn't they brewed some potions while he was training?
To make himself feel a little better, he decided Gryffindor had also been no good at potions. It nearly worked, too. Harry made sure the heat was at the right temperature and left the cauldron alone for now. Boil four three hours, then stir four times clockwise and three times counter-clockwise, then simmer for six hours. Harry sighed. Damn potions were absolutely not his thing.
He walked over to another table and picked up Slytherin's locket, turning it around in his hand. It was early October. Nearly four months had passed since his raid on the Malfoy house. It had been a taxing night. His first fight using his new powers, and it had gone well; he'd been quick and decisive. He'd managed to find and destroy the Horcrux in the locket and even saved Snape and Draco.
And Narcissa.
The stunningly beautiful and majestic Narcissa. If he wasn't thinking about the Horcruxes or Tom Riddle, he was thinking of her. Indeed, they had shared a bit of a moment the night he'd saved her, but how the hell had a woman he had met no more than twice, managed to lodge herself so completely onto his mind?
It made even less sense than a grown man not being able to pronounce the word telephone. (Pff. Arthur Weasley and his fellyfones). She was Draco's mum and not to mention the wife of Lucius Malfoy. Former wife, he suspected, if she had anything to say about it. He could not understand, nor would he be able to solve this particular riddle unless he met with the woman and spoke with her.
Forcing the blue eyed beauty from his mind, he kept staring at the blasted necklace. He'd gotten nowhere on either Hufflepuff's cup, nor Rowena's diadem. He'd kept himself busy, though. He brewed potions, trained with his sword and practised his meditation.
He had managed to end several Death Eater attacks. A week ago, he had thwarted an attack on a small Muggle farm. Fawkes had sent him a vision, a dream of sorts. Harry had set out at once, arriving just in time to intercept the raid in a field before the Muggles ever saw the Death Eaters.
Only two of them, that time, so Harry had knocked them out and Apparated to Diagon Alley. Once there, he left an anonymous note on an Auror's table at the Leaky Cauldron. He returned to the field at a safe distance and sure enough, a little later, a squad of Aurors came to take the Death Eaters away.
Harry kept staring at the necklace, his gaze a little desperate. Despite what he'd told Gryffindor, he was leaning more and more toward the idea of trying to enter Riddle's mind to try and ferret out the location of the other two Horcruxes. He knew it was dangerous, but his mental fortitude was much greater than it once was.
Harry paced the room all afternoon while he was finishing the potion, trying to predict any and all possible situations he might find himself in, should he open his connection with Riddle once more. But he was truly desperate.
By the time Harry had bottled the potion, he had reached a decision. He was going to at least open the connection to Riddle's mind that night and try to measure the other man's defences. He'd have a go at it after midnight. Surely, Riddle had to sleep sometime?
That night, Harry sat down in the lotus position on the floor of the basement, in front of the small fireplace. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander for a little while, to relax himself. Some time later, Harry decided to take the plunge. He removed the blocks that closed of his mind and opened his connection to Riddle.
Harry found it at once. He also found it completely blocked on the other side. Harry probed a little, but soon gave up and retreated back to his own mind, closing it off. He was not skilled at Legilimency at all and he had no way of sneaking past Riddle's defences without alerting the other man to his presence.
Over the next several nights, Harry would probe Riddle's mind and each night, he found it completely sealed off. By the fourth night, however, something had changed. Harry found Riddle's defences down, completely faded away for some reason.
He instinctively held back, fearing it was a trap. A second later, Harry advanced again in small steps. As soon as he entered, he saw old memories, memories of some of the events he'd seen before, during his meetings with Dumbledore. Harry gently focused on Hufflepuff's cup, trying to force his mind into other places in Riddle's mind. He had to be careful, however. If he was too forceful, Riddle would surely discover his presence and retaliate.
Suddenly, Riddle's mind was flooded with thoughts of Bellatrix Lestrange, images of her face, a somewhat peculiar look in her eyes. A brand new image flashed across the bastard's mind and Harry's face turned deep crimson and he almost gagged. It had become very clear why Riddle's defences were down.
Oh, this was fantastic. He'd be stuck with this image in his head forever; Riddle was having sex. With Bellatrix. Right. Now. There was no way to unsee this, damn it. No better way to end the day than to watch a psychopath have sex with an even worse psychopath. Fucking hell... He'd probably dream about it when he went to bed, too...
Harry did note, however that there was no feeling of joy, of affection of any kind from his nemesis. This was simply a pleasing distraction, a way to sate the needs of the flesh, nothing more. The look on Bellatrix's face spoke volumes on her feelings, though. Harry did keep coming back to a strange look in her eyes, however. He could not put a finger on what he found strange about it. Deciding he'd had, enough of the show, he moved on.
Harry again focused his mind on the cup and gradually found an image of a younger Bellatrix. The young woman was holding a finely crafted silver cup in her hands, a look of immense pride on her face. Like a dog that's been given a pat on the head by its master. Disturbing, really. She curtsied, before Riddle Apparated away. Harry's mind was racing and he very nearly did not notice the way Riddle's mind was calming itself.
Wait, that was it? He himself had no experience with these things, but surely, that had been rather quick. Then, just as Harry was preparing to leave, Riddle's mental defences were coming back in force. In a panic, Harry rushed for the exit, just about getting there before the walls slammed shut. He did not relish the idea of being stuck in there with that man.
Harry's eyes flew open and he was panting with the effort it took to rush back to his own mind. He was never doing that again, that was for certain. Once he had calmed down a little, he had the presence of mind to digest what he had seen. Bellatrix had the cup, or at least she had, at one point. Knowing her infatuation with Riddle, she would have guarded the thing better than her own life. And where was the safest place to keep such valuable things? Gringotts, obviously.
Harry stood in front of the fireplace, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. It made sense, seeing how the place was impregnable, or so they said. That wasn't factually true, as Quirrell had broken into vault 713 the summer before Harry's first year at Hogwarts. He was also absolutely sure Riddle had not told even his most trusted servant anything regarding the true nature of the cup. The fewer people that knew, the safer the secret was, after all.
Getting into Gringotts might prove problematic. Not only that, he had no idea which vault belonged to Bellatrix. Such information was not readily available, of course. The only feasible way he saw to go about finding that information was getting a hold of a Gringotts employee and ask them. Harry ran a hand through his hair. He was starting on a slippery slope, that was for certain. He'd try to talk to whomever he got his eye on, but if that did not work? Kidnapping?
Whas that something he was ready to do? He could try and use Legilimency and forcefully take the information he needed, but the very idea left a bad taste in his mouth. Sure, he'd done it just now, but that had been Tom Riddle's mind and that did not count. Harry shuddered as an image flashed across his mind. Bellatrix's legs wrapped around... Harry sighed. Seared onto his brain forever...
The young man sat down in a chair in front of the fire, his mind working in overdrive. He would always need the help of a Gringotts goblin to get into the vault. If it was as well fortified as the stories would have you believe, he had no chance of getting in there without making a huge mess. And as always, this whole thing relied on Riddle not getting any wiser on his activities.
Four days later, Harry was standing across the street from Gringotts, carefully watching the place. He was wearing his cap, a hoodie, a short jacket, jeans and trainers. He had realized that his other outfit was too eye-catching to be wearing it all the time, especially for several days in a row outside a bank. This was the third day he was staking out the bank, noting comings and goings, alternating between points of view fairly frequently, so as not to raise suspicion.
He already had an idea of who he was going to approach for help. Harry's mouth quirked in a small, but sarcastic grin. Help, huh? That implied the other person would be a willing participant in this whole thing... The person Harry had in mind was a goblin named Griphook.
Harry remembered having met the goblin during his first visit to Gringotts, when he went to withdraw from his vault for the first time, along with Hagrid. Harry rubbed his chin. They also went to vault 713 that time and Harry fervently hoped Bellatrix's vault did not lie that deeply in the ground. (They became more and more secure the further down you went.)
It was four o'clock and Harry watched on as Griphook left for home, which was located at the upper end of Diagon Alley. Harry found it somewhat odd that a goblin would choose to live in such close proximity to wizards. Most goblins lived in isolated communities, mostly wanting to be left alone. Little wonder, that, to be honest.
Why would a goblin want to help him, a wizard? In fact, why would any magical being want to help wizards, period? Harry wondered as he slowly followed Griphook around Diagon Alley. Almost all magical beings had been marginalized by wizardkind's apparent superiority complex, which was so wonderfully underscored in the very atrium of the Ministry, by that stupid Fountain of Magical Brethren.
Outdated and ridiculous in Harry's eyes. It wasn't the Middle Ages any more, for Merlin's sake. While goblins likely had too much at stake to take sides in the war, most other beings would be more open to Riddle's influence. The giants had already pledged their allegiance to him, despite fairly little activity from them. Some werewolves had done so as well, namely Fenrir Greyback. Perhaps the vampires might be swayed his way as well?
All those beings could be bent by glittering promises of better times. There was no way Snakey would ever keep those promises, of course. He viewed all sentient beings, other than pureblood wizards with utter disdain. The fact that any being was willing to join him was a testament to how badly they were being treated and how desperate they were for change. Well, he wasn't going to be fixing any of that today and he should focus on his little goblin friend, who was currently unlocking his front door.
Harry approached the door and knocked sharply. A few moments went by, before Griphook answered the door, a somewhat annoyed look on his gnarly face and his long nose twitched irritably. Before Harry could say anything, the old goblin motioned for Harry to step inside, before he closed the door and locked it tight. The goblin turned around and led Harry to a small living room.
While the house was not specifically built for goblins, it was furnished for a goblin's much smaller stature. (They rarely topped 48 inches). The living room had a very nice sofa, and two stuffed chairs that looked very comfortable and a single oversized chair, obviously meant for big people like Harry. Griphook motioned for Harry to take a seat, before sitting down himself. They looked at one another for several moments before the old Goblin broke the ice;
"What brings you to my door, Harry Potter?"
Harry's eyes went wide with shock and alarm. He knew who he was? They'd only met once, when he was eleven years old! Also, his physical changes... The goblin smiled in satisfaction, his eyes twinkling. He always enjoyed putting one over the arrogant wizards.
"I saw you outside the bank two days ago and I expected you to make your move sooner. It's obvious you intend some mischief within Gringotts, Mr. Potter. I notice by your expression that you did not expect me to recognize you. Well, goblins are highly perceptive and we can always spot fakes, whether they be objects or people, so I immediately recognised you. Besides, you are dreadfully clumsy when following people. You need not worry, however. Your identity is safe with me."
Harry relaxed and leaned back, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. There was no point in trying to lie to Griphook, that was certain. Harry also felt he could trust Griphook's promise to keep his word, the goblin's sincerity was quite obvious, his heartbeat also stayed regular,.
"I need access to Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. There's something stored there, something vital to the defeat of Voldemort. Will you help me get it?"
The goblin looked at Harry, taking his time to answer. The Boy Who Lived was sitting in his living room, though he did not look much like a human any more. At least not to any goblin who really looked at him. He wanted into the Lestrange vault, which Griphook found very interesting indeed.
He remembered every little thing the vault had contained. He had been the one to catalogue the contents, after all. He kept silent for a few moments longer, before deciding he had played that game long enough. He would help the lad, certainly, as the world under Voldemort would surely be like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
"I will help you," he said. "Goblins hold no love for wizards, as you are well aware. I stress however; you ask much of me, Mr. Potter and I will set you a big task in return. I want you to use whatever influence you can muster to bring about fairness and tolerance for all the races under the sun, once this is all over."
Harry's eyes widened a little bit, but he curbed his reaction. This was actually a great thing, he decided and strangely in tune with what he wanted for his world. And if he could convince the goblin race to help him once this was all over, his chances of actually making a difference were that much greater. Still, he didn't want to be overconfident.
"I accept your terms, Griphook, but you understand I'm just one man, practically a kid. People may not listen to me."
The goblin smiled wryly. "Of course. Please understand, I'm not asking you to solve the problem over night, young Mr. Potter, but I must say, you underestimate yourself. The man who defeats Voldemort will surely have great power among his peers."
"I will try, Griphook. You have my word," Harry said solemnly.
"I thought you would. Now, onto the matter at hand. The Lestrange vault is empty, Mr. Potter. Now, before you get all rowdy, let me finish. Its contents, money and all, was seized by the Ministry in January 1996, on the very day of the mass Death Eater escape from Azkaban. It was put in a secure storage unit on the second floor of the Ministry. I assume you know what the second floor is?"
Harry nodded, he did know. 'Department of Magical Law Enforcement.' Harry rubbed his face tiredly. How was he supposed to get in there? He could not possibly go in there and steal the cup, without being seen. Nor could he grab a hair on some Auror's shoulder and morph into that person via the Polyjuice potion.
That potion was way beyond him. Even if Hermione had managed to brew it in their second year. Then again, she wasn't referred to as 'the brightest witch of her generation' for nothing. He was brought back to the realm of the living by Griphook's clearing of his throat.
"Why only the Lestrange vault? They were not the only ones who escaped, after all."
"I do not know, Mr. Potter. The Ministry is not in the habit of explaining their actions to us goblins. May I ask what it is you seek?"
"Hufflepuff's cup," Harry replied.
"Ah, yes, I remember it well. While Hufflepuff may have enchanted it, the cup is actually of goblin make. As are Gryffindor's sword, Ravenclaw's diadem and Slytherin's locket. You seem surprised. It seems to be rooted in legend that the Founders themselves created these things, but I assure you, us goblins never forget what we build, least of all such finely crafted items.
Now, here's what I propose we do. I know of a goblin who can create an exact replica of the cup. Don't worry, we can count on his discretion. I will go to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, gain access into the storage unit and replace the original with the fake. Should be easy enough, the department is stretched thin, these days, as you can imagine."
At that point the goblin let out a long sigh. "They are still reeling from the death of director Bones. And that fool Pius Thicknesse is no Amelia Bones, let me tell you. The fact he was appointed as the head of DMLE by the late Rufus Scrimgeour makes no sense. And now the oaf is Minister? It would certainly not surprise me to learn Voldemort had his claws in that man's hide. And his cronies, Dolores Umbridge and Yaxley certainly fit the Death Eater mould. And then there's the whole Snatcher business. These are grim times, Mr. Potter."
Bloody Snatchers. Harry had recently learned that Fenrir Greyback was the leader of that little group. Looking down, the young man sighed deeply. He had nearly forgotten about Madam Bones' murder. Riddle himself had killed the director in the summer of '96. Amelia had been a strict, but fair witch. He recalled as much from that farce of a trial at courtroom ten. Poor Susan Bones, she was all alone, now. The last of the Bones'.
Harry shared Griphook's concern over the ministry. He had come to that same conclusion some time ago, when he realized he was capturing the same bloody Death Eaters again and again. But that was a worry for another day. Right now, there was another issue that needed tending to. Wait, what had Griphook said about retrieving the cup? Harry looked back up and stared at Griphook in alarm. There was no way he would allow the goblin to put himself in such a precarious position.
"No! Griphook, I cannot allow-"
"I do not recall asking your permission, Mr. Potter," Griphook interrupted tartly. "This fight against that usurper is on all of us, and I will do my part. Now, the hour grows late and I must ask you to leave, as I will be entertaining guests shortly. Return here in two weeks and I shall have everything ready for our little excursion."
"You must be careful, Griphook. Never touch the thing with your bare hands. It's extremely dangerous."
"I quite know how to handle enchanted artefacts, thank you Mr. Potter."
And with that, Griphook ushered Harry out of his home and into the street. Harry put his hands in his pockets and walked over to the Leaky Cauldron. He had taken a room at the inn, not wanting to Apparate back to Gryffindor's place every night.
He was exhausted for some reason, so he went straight to his room, not bothering with supper. The common room was full of people anyway, and he avoided crowds like the plague. He threw himself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
As he lay on the bed, he wondered what his friends were doing at that very moment. Most likely working for the Order. Once this was all over, his friends would try to find their calling in life. He himself had wanted to become an Auror.
The Aurors only ever accepted those whose NEWT scores on the required classes were Outstanding. He fondly remembered that time when Professor McGonagall had argued quite strongly with that bloody Toad whether or not he had it in him to become a member of the Aurors.
He knew most of his friends would have passed with great success; they were brilliant, in their own way. Harry imagined Hermione might want to teach and she'd be fantastic, if she managed to add a little flair to her 'by the book' way of thinking of things. Eventually, he knew she'd try her hand at politics.
Ron would probably try and become Auror once this was all over. He had the potential to be good at it, too, Harry thought. He'd have to overcome his laziness, though. Neville would obviously be meaning to advance his knowledge of herbs. Really good at that, Neville was. Harry could see him becoming the next Herbology professor at Hogwarts, once Sprout retired.
Luna would take over the Quibbler; there was no other thing Harry could see her do, even if she could do whatever she wanted, she was that smart. She had it in her to give Hermione a run for her galleons, Harry knew.
And Ginny... Ginny would be at Hogwarts by now, having started her seventh and last year, several weeks ago. Rather forcefully, Harry put her out of his mind. It was too depressing to think of her, even now, after all those months.
As Harry found himself slowly falling asleep, his thoughts wandered over to his aunt Petunia. She had been popping up in his mind at the strangest times over the last few months. He wondered how she had reacted to his disappearance, for one thing. Vernon had to have been elated to be rid of him. He'd been waiting anxiously for the day Harry turned seventeen. While Dudley had been somewhat nicer to him after that Dementor fiasco, they would never be friends, Harry knew. Too much bad blood.
That left his aunt. He was a bit older now and his time away from that house had afforded him a new perspective. He had scoured his memories of his aunt and reached the conclusion that she had never loved her husband. At the very least, she certainly had never been happy. He could understand why; the man was a boorish thug.
Harry was also sure his aunt had envied his mother's magical talents, remembering the time when Petunia had told him about the day her sister had received her letter. At the time he had thought her remarks were filled resentment and scorn, but now, he believed they had been laced with sorrow and a bit of envy. Harry drifted to sleep shortly after, his dreams centred around the family at NR. Four Privet Drive.
It was the day before Harry was to meet Griphook. He was walking along the banks of the River Thames, his Bag on his shoulder, when a gust of wind blew his way. Harry took several whiffs of the air, a peculiar scent filling his nostrils. A wet dog? No, this was something else. It was coming from the port, some distance away. Shrugging, Harry eventually found his way to the Leaky Cauldron and took a room.
He'd been careful to mostly sleep in Muggle hotels since he started this quest, because the client base at the Cauldron was not large enough that his staying often at the inn would remain unknown to anyone looking closely enough. He only stayed at the inn every few weeks and if Tom the barkeep suspected anything, he most likely would not say anything.
Oh, and the entertainment was so much better in Muggle hotels.
It was past midnight and Harry paced the room. Why was he so hung up on this smell? He could not forget it, nor put out of his mind. A strong, foreboding feeling troubled his mind that evening. Sighing, Harry put his Bag on the table and pulled out of it his long coat, the boots and a shirt. Once dressed, he removed his sword from the Bag and strapped it onto his back, under the coat. He perked his ears and heard only the steady breathing of a few sleeping people and a few loud fellows, down in the common room.
Harry crammed his cap on his head and quit the room. He made his way to a window overlooking the Muggle front of the inn, and peeked outside. Once he was certain no one was looking, he gently opened the window and dropped down. He willed a trickle of air onto the window, which promptly closed.
Harry quickly headed towards the port and he picked up the scent in short order, stronger than before, with several variations this time. For some reason it was giving him goosebumps and he felt his stomach clench a little. Fear? He did not understand. He would, though, soon enough.
Eventually, Harry entered an older section of the port of London and immediately picked up a pair of voices, drifting his way on the wind.
"You think he's going to top the poor fellow?"
"Who knows, mate. We all know how jumpy the boss gets after the full moon. I guess in his eyes, the poor bastard betrayed his own kind, so..."
Harry found a cold sweat run down his spine. The full moon? Werewolves, that's what the smell was. He darted between containers, keeping to the shadows. With a sickening feeling, Harry stopped behind one of the containers, his eyes looking for the moon. It was just a tiny curve of white on the night sky. There was a good chance Fenrir Greyback was here this evening.
The thought turned Harry's stomach to mush, his fear rising with each breath. The fact the full moon was such a long time away did ease Harry's fears somewhat, as the insane Greyback should be at his weakest.
He silently advanced and peaked around the corner and saw a pair of men with red markings on their arms. Snatchers. He quickly and silently dispatched the two fellows and locked them in a container. He was not gentle.
He remembered Greyback clearly, the savage face and the unbridled brutality. The man, no the monster revelled in death and carnage. It ate people, for Heaven's sake. An image of a badly injured Bill Weasley crossed Harry's mind as he came upon an old, abandoned warehouse, filling the young man with a rage, he quickly tried to subdue, to limited success.
Harry climbed a stack of containers and jumped across to the roof of the building. Unable to muster his Occlumency and subdue his anger, he had worked himself into a bitter fury, his teeth gnashing. People like Greyback always seemed to think they could do whatever they wanted, through sheer strength.
Harry's train of thought was interrupted by the pungent smell of blood, combined with a familiar scent. It stopped him cold. No, no, no. There had to be a mistake, his mind, the fear and anger were surely playing tricks on him. Harry found a skylight, which he opened and silently dropped onto a walkway, high above the floor. The source of the familiar scent could be found below.
Remus Lupin was tied to a chair and Greyback punched him in the face, a spray of blood flying to the floor, which was already a sea of red. Harry simply stood there and stared for a minute, unable to move. Eventually, he took a deep breath and scanned his surroundings carefully.
Two men outside, already dealt with, and six inside. Eight in total. He saw three of them on the walkway beneath him. Greyback and two others, a man and a woman took turns on Lupin, who remained silent, aside from grunts of pain. Harry silently removed his coat, hardened his resolve and got going...
"Where is the Potter kid? Where!" Greyback screamed.
Lupin stared back defiantly and said nothing, only spat blood at Greyback's feet. He would not give the bastard anything and they had been at this for some time, now. Lupin was surprised at Greyback's restraint, surely the psychotic bastard wanted to kill him. The truth of it was, of course, that Lupin didn't know where Harry was. No one did.
They didn't even know if he was still alive, although some believed Harry to be the vigilante that had been roaming the country for the past few months. Which was utterly insane and ridiculous, of course. The Order had searched for the missing teen, exhausted every possibility.
It had been very subtle, however, since they had surmised the uncertainty seemed to be keeping Voldemort in check. Partly, at least. There was something else going on with the snake, something that had to do with his failed attempt to possess Harry back in the Department of Mysteries.
Lupin missed the lad terribly. Harry had been shaping up to become such a good man, and it had always been comforting to Lupin how much Harry reminded him of James and Lily. While the boy was almost the perfect physical copy of his father, he had his mother's eyes and her compassion. And her temper, of course. Unlike his father, however, Harry was completely devoid of anything resembling arrogance, even if Snape refused to see it.
While the very ancient Potter clan had never put much stock in the old ways of Pureblood society, James had been raised in it and had reflected that, to a degree. Lupin had always felt his friend had been a great man, but James, much like Sirius had been possessed of an arrogant streak that had prevented both men from becoming all they could have been.
Not bigoted by any means, but somewhat entitled, as Pureblood scions tended to be. James had rid himself of it for the most part by their seventh year and once he finally got together with Lily, she had managed to mould Prongs into a young man every mother would be proud of.
Greyback released an angry roar and slammed his fist into Lupin's stomach. Lupin's eyes closed as he doubled over in pain. Greyback was finally starting to lose his patience and Lupin slumped against the restraints, gritting his teeth as he blinked away the tears. This was it, then, for Remus Lupin. He'd never see Tonks again. They had been married for less than a year.
He had gone out on a mission for the Order, something big was happening in the werewolf community, but it had turned out to be a trap. It had only been several hours since he left, so Tonks would not worry for a while yet, as it was not uncommon for Order members to be away for days at a time. Greyback interrupted his thoughts by giving him a backhanded blow, which caused the chair to fall over.
Lupin's eyes flew open as he fell and he saw something. Had Greyback and his cronies not been so intensely focused on him, they would have noticed the man skulking around the walkway above them, dispatching the guards as he went along.
When the man dropped the last guard, Lupin closed his eyes and smiled. That did not sit well with Greyback, who grabbed his prisoner and yanked him up. He brought his face within an inch of Lupin's and the monster stared him in the face. The look turned Lupin cold; there was murder in those eyes.
"What are you smiling about, you pathetic fool?" Greyback snarled. "Don't you realize this is the end of the line? My face will be the last thing you see in this life."
And with that, Greyback drew his hand back, but as he prepared to strike the killing blow, a cough stayed his hand. He and his henchmen whipped around to find a man standing behind them. Stepped forward and some kind of fireballs ignited in his hands.
Harry stared at the people in front of him, shaking with anger. It was all he could do to remain calm as he held a pair of fireballs in his hands, but he dared not throw them right now, lest he hit Lupin. Harry took a deep breath and let the fire dissolve in his hands. Perhaps he could resolve this without further violence. There was little chance of it, Harry knew, but he wasn't sure he could fight all three of them and keep Lupin safe at the same time.
"Evening, Greyback. I hate to intrude on your fun, but I'd like you to hand over that man. He's had enough, don't you think?"
Lupin stared at the young man with fascination. At over six feet tall, he was standing face to face with one of the most dangerous men in the world and he did not back down an inch, his confidence and power apparent. He was obviously a wizard, but he did not have a wand, so how had he produced those fireballs?
And was that the hilt of a sword peeking out from behind his head? Lupin watched on as Greyback stared at the newcomer, while the other two moved to either side. The young man seemed unconcerned, his focus solely on Greyback, who seemed nervous. The vigilante took another step forward, his palms facing his enemy. Greyback actually stepped back, teeth bared in a silent snarl.
"Just give him to me and there will be no need for further violence. Be reasonable, Greyback. I have already taken care of all your men, aside from these two and yourself."
Yes, there was no doubt about it, Greyback was afraid. Of course this was the man that had been wreaking havoc lately and he'd hit the Snatchers hard. The lad was very imposing and an obvious alpha. Lupin could clearly sense it and could see that Greyback was struggling with the beast within, which was urging him to submit to a superior being.
The newcomer was no beast he'd ever met, as his inner wolf was not responding to it in the usual manner and humans did not project such an aura, and yet there it was, rolling of him in waves. Greyback's cronies were backing away, sweating and obviously losing the fight against their instincts. Their fear of Greyback was clearly the only thing preventing them from fleeing. The other man seemed to notice something similar and pressed his advantage.
"You know, Greyback, dogs bare their bellies to those they consider superior. Perhaps you should just do that now and save all of us some time and trouble?"
Lupin watched the werewolf leader eye his followers and winced slightly. The boy had gone just a bit too far. Fenrir Greyback was a very proud monster, even if he was a coward and he most certainly was not going to take that one lying down. And sure enough, he lunged forward with a howl, the other two followed closely behind...
The man twisted his body and dodged their attacks, his superior speed making it look easy. He bobbed and weaved away from their punches, before landing a few of his own. He threw a small fireball at the woman, who barely dodged, falling to the floor in the process. He spun in a semicircle and slammed his foot into Greyback's shoulder and sent him spinning to the ground.
The one left standing tried to punch the young man in the face, but stretched too far, so the lad grabbed his arm and punched the man in the throat. The man crumbled to the ground, trying to catch his breath. The young fighter strode quickly over to Lupin and set about cutting the restraints. He looked at Lupin with worry.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes, I think so. They did not hurt me too badly, it looks worse than it is. Might I ask who you are and how you found me?"
"Don't concern yourself with that for now, just focus on getting on your feet. Just run, Lupin. I will take care of them." Lupin stared at the man, who obviously knew who he was. Had someone sent him here? If so, who?
His saviour turned around to find his enemies on their feet again, staring at him hatefully. Greyback was obviously seething with anger now. Not only had he beat them, he'd basically made them look like weaklings. Harry unsheathed his sword and watched the three closely.
"Make a mockery of me, will you, human? You are strong, but can you handle this?"
Leather creaked as Harry gripped his sword tighter, ready for anything. He glanced back, only to find Lupin still there staring past him at Greyback, his eyes wide. Harry followed his gaze and nearly dropped his sword from the shock. How was this possible? The full moon wasn't for another three weeks!
They were changing rapidly, and then, before him stood three growling, full fledged werewolves, their spittle dripping onto the floor. Harry was vaguely aware of the three guards up top running toward the window on the roof. Smart, since werewolves usually attacked indiscriminately. Knowing Lupin had not moved, Harry silently cursed the man. What the bloody hell was he playing at? He was of no use in this fight, human as he was at the moment.
Harry was becoming desperate. He was good at multitasking, but even with all his powers, getting Lupin out safely, while fighting three werewolves was next to impossible. His friend had tried to play it tough, but Harry could now see the older man was barely standing. This test was as stern as they came, but Greyback had made a grave mistake...
"Human, huh? I suppose I was, once upon a time," Harry said as he stalked forward, twirling his sword in front of him.
Lupin watched as the boy walked toward the werewolves, sword in hand. Not human? Remus thought the young man certainly looked human enough. He could only watch as his rescuer engaged the beasts in battle and that was when Lupin began to wonder just how much truth there was to the boy's statement. He was much faster than humanly possible with the way he danced around, his sword slashing, his strength was nothing to scoff at, either.
He was clearly stronger than the beasts by a fair margin, as he grabbed one and threw it away easily. He had the werewolves on the back foot now, keeping all three of them in front of him at all times. He had managed to cut the wolves several times, but they were mere flesh wounds. Indeed, he certainly was not a regular human, that much was clear by now.
Remarkably, the boy himself had remained uninjured. Slowly, however, the tables started to turn, when the werewolves started working together. It was inconceivable. Lycanthropes did not work as a pack in their morphed state. They were too savage, to wild to do so effectively. Apparently, the rumour he had learned of earlier had some truth to it. People who could change at will and retain some basic intelligence.
The thought sent shivers down Lupin's back. If Riddle brought such a force to bear, along with the giants, that could very well be it for this war. He hissed loudly as he watched the young man spin to the ground by a glancing blow to the head. The beast tried to take advantage of his fall, but the man recovered quickly and rolled out of the way.
Harry's vision on his right was blurred by blood as it ran freely down his face from a cut above his right eye. The beast that knocked him down came at him, an arm swinging. It was overconfident after his tumble and it swung too wide, however. Harry neatly stepped inside and thrust his sword through the werewolf's heart. It went down with a growl and did not rise again.
"Look out!" Lupin exclaimed.
Harry's reaction, although late, saved his life. He stepped forward and grunted painfully as a werewolf raked the claws of one hand down his right shoulder blade and across his lower back with the other. The pain that followed was mind numbing, but Harry managed to reverse the grip on his sword and thrust it backwards. He heard a pained howl, followed by a thud. He jumped out of the way and saw Greyback fly past him, arms and claws extended.
The female was trying to scramble to her feet again, clutching her abdomen, blood oozing between her fingers. Harry quickly stepped over and brought his sword down on her neck, ending her life. Two down, one to go. Grimly, he understood he had to put them all down. He could not let any of them escape this place. One werewolf, especially in Muggle London could end an untold number of lives, particularly one as insane as Greyback.
Harry gripped his sword tighter, ready to face Greyback, but fell to one knee, the pain in his back almost too much to bear. He would bleed to death soon if he did not get to his coat, which was lying near the rafters. In it were two vials of that healing potion he'd made. He heard a howl as Greyback advanced, ready to deliver the final blow, but then movement flashed across his vision...
Lupin saw the young man fall to one knee, obviously nearing his limit, he had to have gotten seriously injured before. He saw Greyback howl in delight and start toward his opponent. Lupin felt himself shiver with unknown strength and he lunged forward and placed himself in front of the kneeling man, arms outstretched.
The werewolf hesitated for barely a second before thrusting his fingers into his abdomen, and then he flung him aside like a piece of trash. Lupin crashed into a steel column and crumbled to the floor. He grabbed his abdomen in a futile attempt to stem the blood flow.
He looked up to see Greyback turn his attention to the young man, who stared in his direction. His face distorted in anger, green eyes flashing brightly. Lupin turned his gaze on Greyback and at that moment, he understood the psychopath's life was measured in minutes.
Harry stared at Lupin, who lay crumbled against a steel column, his hands clutching his abdomen. He felt his face twist in fury as their eyes met for a brief moment. He turned his gaze toward Greyback and rose to his feet. He growled fiercely and felt his canines grow and he felt stronger than ever before.
He stood up and stalked over to Greyback, who suddenly stopped cold, then hunched over, clearly afraid. Harry made a sweeping gesture with his left hand, firing a huge fireball at his foe, who howled in pain and tried to scramble away, but Harry was not done. He swept the werewolf of his feet with a gust of wind, and pinned the creature down.
Harry cursed himself loudly in his head. Foolish, foolish boy, thinking he was ready for the big fights... How could he have been so careless? He'd completely forgotten about his arm braces once the fighting had begun in earnest and Lupin was dying because of it!
His gaze hardened as Greyback reverted back to his human form, completely overcome with fear. The bastard was literally shaking. Harry came upon his foe. He wanted to kill him right then and there; his rage almost boiling over. But he had to make sure there were no more things like Greyback or those other two running around.
"How many of you are there, Greyback? Answer truthfully, or this may take the rest of the night."
Harry had no intention of torturing Greyback, but he put the tip of his sword on Greyback's chest and drew a fine line across the thing's body, not drawing blood, just enough to tickle the imagination. A slight burn appeared on the man's chest and his eyes went wide with absolute terror. It wasn't every day you were attacked with a silverite blade.
"There was no one else, only the three of us were strong enough to make it through the ritual. There will be no more, I assure you. The cost The Dark Lord paid the African bitch to perform the ritual was too high."
"What ritual, Greyback? Who performed it?"
"The Dark Lord made a deal with someone, I don't know who it was and I don't know any details of the deal. She performed some kind of ritual to allow us to control our gift. We still change with the full moon as regular werewolves. That's all I know, I swear."
"Where are the headquarters of the Snatchers?"
Harry ignited a fireball in his left palm. He saw Greyback almost start to cry, straining against the airflow that held him down. Staring up at the angry wizard, the monster told him what he needed to know.
"It's in the Forest of Dean! I'm telling the truth, I swear!"
This time Harry had been listening to Greyback's heartbeat and he could tell the man was not lying. Satisfied, Harry put out the fire and looked his foe straight in the eye. Without further ado, Harry severed Greyback's head from his torso and turned around.
Mustering his strength, he leapt up and raced up to the rafters. He staggered over to his coat and brought out two vials. He uncorked the first one and downed its contents, before jumping from the walkway and landed heavily on the floor and stumbled, before slowly hobbling his way over to Lupin.
Harry fell to his knees next to his friend, who was barely conscious. A large pool of blood was covering the floor beneath him, growing larger as the older man bled. Harry grabbed Lupin and propped him up against the column. He uncorked the second vial and offered it to Lupin, who managed to drink it without too much trouble.
After that, Harry draped his coat over Lupin to try and keep him warm. The older man was too weak to side along Apparate at that moment and Harry dared not move Remus too much. The only chance was to wait until the potion did its work and hope he had not been too late. Harry felt his eyes moisten as he looked at Lupin.
Lupin looked over to the young man, who sat on the floor in front of him, tears dripping from his eyes. Lupin wondered why he was crying. He noticed the boy had removed his cap.
Not human, he had said and those ears certainly were not those of a human. The boy grunted in pain as he shifted his position slightly, which afforded the older man a look at his teeth.
Those canines definitely weren't human either. He watched in amazement as the teeth started to recede slowly. His eyes kept examining the man's face and stopped at his forehead. The blood loss had to be making him hallucinate, because on his forehead was a scar, a lightening shaped scar no less and coupled with those green eyes... He chuckled and a cough racked his body. The young man reached over and steadied him while it blew over. Lupin caught his breath once more and he turned his gaze upon the young man.
"I realize I must be seeing things, but I know a young man with a scar very similar to the one you have on your forehead, my friend. His eyes are that exact colour, too."
The young man looked at him and smiled sadly. "I know, Moony. I know him too."
Lupin stared at the young man, his eyes suddenly very sharp and attentive. Moony was not a name many people knew. In fact, they could almost be counted on the fingers of one hand.
"Harry?"
"Hey, Lupin," Harry said softly and smiled. "It's been a while. I hope the next time we see each other, we won't have to fight any bloody werewolves."
Remus Lupin was at a complete loss for words. This was Harry? Certainly not. Harry Potter did not have pointy ears, he did not have teeth like some sort of vampire and he most assuredly did not top six feet! Lupin felt better now, the potion was doing its job. The blood had stopped flowing and he felt stronger. It seemed Harry had given him the potion just in time.
"Where have you been, Harry? We've looked all over for you! We thought you were dead. Bloody hell. Wait, you're the one, that vigilante fighting Riddle?" Even though it had been phrased as a question, Harry noted it was a statement.
"Obviously, Lupin. How are you doing? I see there's some colour returning to your face. I think you'll be fine since you're not dead yet, but we must get you help. The potion will stop the blood flow, at least for a while, but it won't heal you outright."
"I have a thousand questions, Harry, but I'd rather ask them at home. Will you take me there? I don't think I can Apparate in the condition I'm in at the moment. Not without leaving a part of myself behind. I doubt Tonks will approve."
Harry snorted. "I can think of at least one body part she'd really rather you kept whole," Harry said and smiled as the older man let out a painful chuckle.
"Don't make me laugh, Harry!"
Harry watched Lupin for a while, thinking hard. Remus wanted him to take him home, to ask him questions. Harry was more than willing to take his friend home to his wife, but there was a problem. He'd had never been to Remus' home. He voiced his thoughts to his friend. Lupin was quiet for a minute, then a smile lit up his face.
"Can you use Legilimency, Harry? I can show you my house in my mind. That should do the trick."
"I'm not good at it, but if you think it will work, then I can certainly try."
Some time later they were standing in the middle of the road, facing a small, two story house on the outskirts of Hawkshead, a small village in Cumbria. It was a nice place, a cottage made of bricks, with a tiled roof and a small garden. It had a white picket fence and a cute little gate by the side walk. Harry smiled. His friends deserved to live like this, to be happy and free. Harry heard a car approaching some ways off and he became acutely aware of their situation.
To any bystander, they would have been an odd pair, to be sure. One was young, very tall, topless and had a sword strapped to his back. He had the arm of the other one, a middle aged gentleman draped across his shoulders, supporting his weight. Harry had removed his shirt and tied it around Lupin's abdomen, just in case.
"It's alright, Harry. There's just Tonks inside, no worries. In any case, she ought to be sleeping. Poppy gave her a few days off." Harry wondered what that meant, but decided to leave it alone for now.
They approached the house and Harry opened the door and half carried Remus inside. His own wounds hurt like hell, but he'd be all right. All he needed was a very hot bath. Harry gently laid Remus down on she sofa. He noted a change in Tonk's breathing on the upper floor; she had woken up. Harry put Lupin's feet onto the couch as well and stacked a few pillows behind his friend to help him lie in a reclining position.
"Tonks is awake, Remus."
Remus eyed Harry. "How can you tell?"
"I heard her wake up, she moved the covers on the bed. Is there any food? I'm starving."
Lupin stared at Harry. He heard her wake up? Heard her moving in the bed? Surely he was having a laugh. Harry gave him a small smile. Confirming Harry's statement, Lupin heard footsteps on the upper floor, hurrying to the stairs, descending two steps two at a time. Harry retreated to the kitchen.
Nymphadora Tonks awoke with a start, instinctively looking over at the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. Despite her Auror training, when she had starting living with Remus, she could not sleep when he was out on missions. She'd been so nervous and afraid for her husband. Eventually, though, she had gotten over herself, but not before a long talk with Remus.
She had since resigned from the Aurors, not happy with the direction the Ministry was going. That whole institution was more crooked and gnarled than the Whomping Willow... Arthur had also left, as had Percy and Shack. The Ministry was no longer safe for those with 'questionable' views and she was a Metamorphmagus as well, so...
That bastard Thicknesse was so deep in Riddle's pocket, she was certain he never actually saw the light of day any more. And the Toad... Tonks had decided to focus on healing and had taken an internship with Madam Pomfrey. Minerva, as Headmistress had somehow managed to hide her payment from the school governors.
Fortunately, ever since that fiasco with Umbitch as the DADA professor, the Wizengamot had ruled to make Hogwarts more autonomous than ever before and as of yet, those who were in favour of tightening the reins on the school had not managed a majority vote.
Not that Minerva actually cared about that in all honesty. All she cared about was the welfare and safety of her students. Also, it was not so bad to have another pair of experienced eyes at Hogwarts to try and make things as safe as possible.
She heard voices downstairs and she threw her covers off and put on a heavy robe. Her husband was home and apparently, had brought someone with him. She hurried down the stairs, two steps at a time. She was not prepared for what awaited her at the bottom of the stairs, however.
Her husband lay on the sofa, blood all over him and his face was a grimace of pain. A shirt was tied around his midsection like some sort of makeshift bandage. He grunted as he shifted himself a little higher on the sofa. He gave her a strained smile, that somehow managed to be impish at the same time.
"Hey, Dora. Say, do you think you could patch me up, please? I seem to be leaking."
Tonks hurried to her husband's side and untied the shirt, then cursed under her breath as she saw the wound in his abdomen. She waved her wand over the wound and luckily, there did not seem to be much bleeding, nor much internal damage.
As she examined it, the bleeding seemed to be starting up again. She thanked the many lessons she'd had with Madame Pomfrey over the last few months and she had gotten quite good at this, even if she said so herself.
"What happened to you, Remus? I thought you had only gone to run down a rumour?"
"That was the plan. Turned out it was a trap, laid by Greyback and his men."
Tonks cursed under her breath. Greyback? Such a horrible person, if you could call that thing a person. She got to her feet and grabbed a first aid kit from a cabinet by the door. She took out a sterilizing agent and poured some of it onto his wound.
Lupin hissed and arched his back from the pain. Tonks produced a vial of a strong painkilling potion. It would dull the pain, but keep his mind sharp. She had him down a blood replenishing potion as well.
She picked up her wand and pointed it at Lupin at a forty five degree angle. She gave her husband a look to confirm if he was ready. Because of the potion she had given him, this would not hurt, but it would be fairly unpleasant, regardless. Lupin nodded and she began. Lupin winced when he felt the wound begin to close.
He looked behind Tonks at Harry, who stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Harry had removed the sword and the arm braces as well and Lupin was glad to see his friend relax a little bit. He was starting to turn pale and was sweating an awful lot, though, and there was a tightness to his mouth and neck. Even so, when Tonks was done, Harry got a little twinkle in his eye.
"Hey, Tonks, d'you reckon the shirt is ruined, or does the blood come out in the wash?"
Tonks whipped around and let out a startled gasp as she noticed the hulking giant of a man standing in the door to her living room, smiling at her. Before she could raise her wand, however, Lupin held her back, a hand on her arm, forcing it down.
"It's all right, Dora! It's Harry. It's Harry, love. He's the one who rescued me earlier."
Tonks looked at her husband incredulously. Was he injured worse than she thought? Feverish? She put a hand to his forehead. He had to be, else he would never have made such an outlandish claim. This man was scrawny little Harry Potter? Impossible.
For starters, Harry was just over eighteen. That man looked to be no less than twenty five. Much too tall and broad. It was simply impossible. To be joking at such a time... She looked at her husband, annoyed.
"Don't get cute with me, Remus Lupin. This can't be Harry. That boy is a scrawny little git. Whoever this is, looks like a Braveheart reject. All that's missing is some blue face paint and a kilt, and he'd be raring to go. No flashing your front, ya hear me!"
Harry burst out laughing. She really had a fantastic sense of humour, that Tonks. He hadn't laughed for a while and it felt good. His laughter died down, but he still shook with silent mirth. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at his hand, frowning, before turning his gaze on Tonks once more.
"Ah, that did me good, Tonks. Or is it Nymphadora, now that you're a prim and proper housewife? You always did hate that name, though."
Tonks looked at Lupin, her eyes wide and uncertain. He nodded and smiled, his hand squeezing hers. She stood up from the sofa and approached Harry.
"Shut up, you!" she said and hugged him tightly, which caused Harry to groan painfully.
Tonks released him and backed away quickly and noticed her hands were covered in blood. She looked at Harry's face and saw that he sweating profusely now. Tonks grabbed his arm and turned him around, sucking in a breath and felt herself shudder. She heard Lupin suck in a breath too.
"Harry!" the werewolf exclaimed in worry.
His back was a bloody, torn mess. Three severe claw marks ran down his right shoulder blade and a further three across his lower back, each almost a quarter of an inch wide, and who knew how deep. They were bleeding freely now, a rather large puddle forming on the floor. Harry grimaced as he noticed it. He turned around and looked at Tonks apologetically.
"I'm sorry, Nym. I seem to be bleeding all over your floor. I didn't mean to be a both-"
He never finished the sentence and she caught him as he fell down, his consciousness fading. Tonks struggled a bit with his weight, but managed to slowly let Harry slip to the floor, making sure he landed on his stomach. She felt her hands tremble as she examined the wounds more closely. She shook her head in wonder, more than fear, as she knew she could patch him up no problem.
What she was wondering about was how the bloody hell he could have been moving around with wounds like that. How had he stayed conscious? She knew the boy had willpower to spare, but even that only took you so far and it certainly did nothing for blood loss. She looked on her husband, a question in her eyes, before she set about healing her friend.
"I know nothing, Dora. He simply appeared at the warehouse where they were holding me. He was just in time, too. Greyback was getting nowhere with his interrogation and he was about to end it all. But look at him. Something happened to him, but I can't for the life of me figure out what. Open his mouth and take a look at his teeth. And those ears... What could have done this? You should have seen him move, Dora, it was unbelievable. He was faster than a werewolf and not by a little bit, either. He ran circles around them. And the strength, it wasn't even a contest..."
Tonks worked her wand carefully, mending Harry's wounds to the best of her ability. They would scar horribly, she knew, despite her efforts. Wounds caused be magical beasts usually did. Another unanswered question was how on earth he hadn't bled to death. Or her husband, for that matter. Unless...
"Did Harry give you a blood congealing potion, love?"
"Yes, I suppose that's what he gave me. Didn't explain anything, just chugged down one vial and fed me the other one."
Tonks nodded. It made sense. However, the potion might not have been brewed perfectly, as it should have done a better job of it. Of course, everybody knew Harry was pants at potions, but the fact that these wounds were caused by a werewolf might explain why it had not worked as intended.
She put the finishing touches on Harry's back, then turned her attention to his head. That one was not so bad. She would simply clean it, and let it mend on its own. Lupin got to his feet stiffly and Tonks levitated Harry onto the sofa, covering him with a blanket.
"Should we let someone know he's here? I mean look at him. He can't go on like this, Dora. He'll kill himself if he does not stop."
"I realize all that, Remus, but I can't do that until I've had a chance to speak with him. He's obviously worked very hard at staying hidden, or at the very least unknown. We owe him the chance to explain himself. I reckon he must have a pretty compelling reason for all this; no one would go through whatever this transformation is, without one. Come on, let's go to bed and tackle this in the morning."
Harry awoke, the setting sun's amber rays shining in his eyes. How long had he been sleeping? He blinked several times, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, before he remembered what had gone before. He carefully swung his legs over the side of the sofa, grimacing as he felt a tug on his back. His wounds, he supposed.
He got to his feet and stretched, feeling the tension ease out of his body. There was no one in the house at the moment, aside from himself and a sleeping Lupin on the upper floor. He raised his arm and smelled his armpit, his face contorting from the smell.
He needed a bath. He grabbed his apparently mended clothes and went up the stairs. Before heading for the bathroom however, he looked in on Lupin, who was sleeping soundly. Harry nodded in satisfaction, before disappearing into the bathroom to clean himself.
Harry descended the stairs, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation that was to come. He had heard when Lupin woke up and went downstairs to join Tonks in the kitchen, as she had come home from where ever she had gone. They would be full of questions, he knew and he struggled with deciding if he should answer any. Perhaps he should answer all of them?
Tonks and Lupin sat at the kitchen table, enjoying a cup of tea, their faces content. They looked up as their friend entered the kitchen, looking somewhat better than the night before. Lupin gestured for Harry to sit, while his wife set to make a cup for Harry, who sat down, a somewhat embarrassed look on his face.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" Lupin asked as his friend had sat down opposite him.
"I'm OK, Lupin, thanks to Tonks."
"Here you go."
Tonks handed Harry a cup of tea. He gratefully took a sip, enjoying the feeling of the hot fluid running down his throat. It also gave him an excuse to focus on something else than the pair in front of him. His friend's gaze was a bit uncomfortable, to be honest. Lupin cleared his throat, an angry glint in his eyes.
"I'd like an explanation, Harry Potter. Do you realize how much trouble you have caused? And for how many people, disappearing like that? We had almost given you up for dead!"
Harry looked on as Tonks laid a hand on Lupin's arm, calming him. She was in better control than her husband at the moment, a rare thing, but she too, looked at Harry with a very displeased expression. Her hair was an angry red colour now, as opposed to her usual mix of violet and pink. Harry sighed deeply and decided to throw caution to the wind and told them what he had set out to do, why he'd decided to go it alone, too.
He withheld any information about Fawkes, Gryffindor, his stronghold and his transformation. He did not tell them of the Horcrux in his soul, either. He was aware they noticed the gaps in his storytelling and he would tell them eventually, but not now. Lupin shook his head in wonder and he felt his wife grab his hand tightly. The sun was getting low and cast long shadows around the small kitchen.
Lupin rubbed his face, dejectedly. "You're telling us that Riddle carved his soul into pieces and stored them in objects, scattered around Britain? I knew he was insane, but this... And you've found and destroyed some of them?"
"Yes. Dumbledore set out on this quest alone at first, then took me with him at the end of my sixth year. There are a few missing, still."
While they had been talking, Tonks had been watching Harry carefully. Her Auror training helped her a great deal when it came to reading people. There was a picture on a shelf above hers and Lupin's heads. It was a picture of some of the Order members and all of the Weasleys were on it, except Percy.
Harry had been stealing glances at the photo all through the conversation when he thought they weren't looking. She saw the hurt and longing in his eyes. She knew it was unlikely to change anything, but she was annoyed with him, so she decided to be a bit of a bitch.
"She misses you, you know. It took her a long time to get over your disappearance. She was angry at you for a long while too, Harry. We all were and some still are. Oh, and what makes you think you can make such a decision for us? We are all grown people."
Harry sighed and stared into his cup."You know I didn't have anybody I cared about for a long time, Nym, not until I came to Hogwarts. It's in my nature to try and save the people I care about, to keep them from harm. I can't help it. Lupin, you were there yesterday. If Ron or Hermione had been there, they would have died and you know it. Magic hardly works against werewolves, you know that too. I killed people yesterday, Remus! I don't want them to have to go through that. Not if I can prevent it. I know they're a part of this war, but at least they won't be a part of this. I'm also sick and tired of having people die to protect me, especially now that I have the power to protect them as well as myself."
Lupin frowned and watched his friend for a few moments. When Harry put it like that, he supposed he understood where the lad was coming from. It didn't make him feel any better about it, but the look in Harry's eyes told him all he needed to know. There was still the fact that Harry had killed three people a scant few hours ago.
Sure, they had been werewolves, rabid and dangerous, but people nontheless, and he knew Harry would eat himself up about it. But the worst part was that Remus knew Harry had killed even before he started on this quest and it galled him not being able to help his best friend's son.
"How are you feeling about what you had to do last night, Harry? It's never easy to take a life. I know the feeling. Fortunately, I've only had to do it twice, but it tore at me."
Harry put his face in his hands for a moment and took a deep breath. He had hoped they would not talk about it, but of course they would. They were good friends, after all.
"I feel awful and I had a nightmare about it. Quirrell was in there too, somewhere. Then there are some Death Eaters I'm certain I killed at Malfoy manor. I know it had to be done, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I could not risk those monsters roaming the country unchecked. It's just hard, you know, when you think about the fact that they were human, in the end."
Tonks reached over the table and took his hand in hers. She told him how the dreams would pass in time as his brain accepted what he had done. She then went on to reassure him of all the good he had done.
"As much as I hate the fact that you're out there alone, you have done a lot of good. Saved quite a few lives. You bring hope to people, Harry, and for that we are grateful. I also must thank you for saving my aunt. She arrived at my Mum's, before Snape contacted the Order some time ago and we kind of took them in after questioning them under Veritaserum. Snape's knowledge has been invaluable. He's been gone for an awful lone time, though, now that I think of it. Mum and aunt Cissy have begun to settle their differences, although their relationship is still a little strained. She's fine, by the way. Narcissa, I mean."
"I'm glad to hear it, Tonks," Harry said and smiled happily. In the back of his mind, however, he did notice that Tonks had not mentioned her father at all in the conversation. He noted and was somewhat intimidated by a slightly mischievous look that formed in Tonk's eyes before she continued.
"Yeah. Apparently a tall, dark and handsome stranger saved her life and literally swept her of her feet and carried her to safety. After that, he stared her down and told her exactly what he thought of her and her beliefs."
Harry choked on his tea and blushed furiously."What?"
"Her words to my Mum! Honest!"
"You're having me on, aren't you?" Tonks laughed jovially and patted his hand lightly before her eyes became serious once more.
"What are you planning to do now, Harry? Remus asked.
"Well, my quest for the Horcruxes continues, I guess. In fact, I will likely be getting my hands on another one tonight, if all goes well. I won't tell you any more than that. The lesser you know the better. You know this whole quest of mine hangs on Riddle not finding out about what I'm doing. I don't want him to start moving those things around, after all.
I'd like to ask you to keep my secret for a while. At least until I find one more Horcrux, besides the one I'm getting tonight. Once I find that one, there should not really be any reason for me not to come in out of the cold. Now, I really must be going, I'm already late for my meeting. And promise me you won't try to go for those things yourselves. Please. These things are extremely dangerous and you haven't the means to destroy them safely."
"Harry-" Lupin began.
"Promise me!"
Harry's stare was unrelenting and his friends reluctantly nodded their agreement. They disliked allowing him to leave once more on his own, but knew Harry's mission was of the utmost importance.
Lupin feared greatly for his young friend. There was a weariness in him he had sometimes seen in Moody. It was the deep, deep weariness of a man who was continually pushed beyound his limits and Lupin knew Harry was being pressed more than at any time before in his young life. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder as the young man opened the front door and prepared to leave.
"Our door is always open to you Harry. Remember that. You must also remember you have friends who are willing to help you in whatever capacity you require. Please, just be careful."Harry nodded, stepped out and Apparated away. Lupin turned to his wife and smiled at her, before gathering her in his arms.
"He'll be ok, Dora. You know Harry. Once he gets like this, nothing is going to stop him from doing what he needs to do. On another note, did Narcissa really say all those things to your mother?"
Tonks grinned at that."No, not really, I was just having a laugh. Harry's reaction was priceless. Admit it, you found it hilarious. Mum actually does think Cissy has it bad for Harry, though." Lupin's eyes widened a bit at that.
"You're serious? What makes her think that? Andie does realize her sister is over twenty years older than Harry, right? Hang on, did Narcissa reveal Harry's identity to your mother?"
Tonks tapped her chin slowly. "Yes, Cissy did tell her. She reckoned sharing information like that was a good way to start mending fences. And about the other thing. Even if it's true, it's not that bad, Remus. We wizards live for a long time, after all. Narcissa should be looking at at least another century and a half. At any rate, when Aunt Cissy visited my Mum's earlier, Mum didn't really trust her, even if she told her that she had reconsidered her stance on the things that drove them apart all those years ago."
"How did that go?" Lupin asked.
Tonks shrugged. "Narcissa admitted she had always felt it had been wrong to cast Mum out of the family. They talked a bit more, then. It was bad, Remus. Mum said she was completely cold when she told her about Malfoy's betrayal. You've met Cissy a few times since then, you know how she is. But when she started telling Mum about the rescue, she started blushing like mad and kept getting embarrassed. Apparently Harry carried her through the forest surrounding the manor, to safety. Mum was in stitches when she told me. 'Like a love sick teenager's fantasy,' she said." Lupin rubbed the back of his neck and let out a groan.
"That does not sound like Narcissa Malfoy. At all. One look from that woman could freeze over the Mediterranean. That aside, she does seem to be one to go after what she wants, so Ginny may want to stay on her toes." Lupin let out a long sigh. "Harry never has it easy, does he? Narcissa Malfoy of all women... I can scarcely believe it." Tonks laughed heartily and turned around in her husband's arms to look him in the eyes, slightly serious.
"Well I don't know if it's something serious, but it's not too crazy. I mean, he did save her life at considerable risk to his own. He could have left her there after the stunner hit, according to Mum. But we both know that's not Harry and Cissy must have realized that. And coming from a marriage such as the one she was in, I can see her falling hard for a man like Harry. He's basically the complete opposite of Lucius Malfoy; warm, caring and selfless. It's very easy to fall in love with and to be in love with a man like that."
"Sounds about right," Lupin said. "I doubt he realizes it, though. He is completely clueless when it comes to women, after all." Tonks smiled sweetly at her husband at that. Too sweetly. Lupin smiled a sheepish smile, which turned into a worried frown. He looked his wife in the eyes. Tonks sighed. Knowing her husband as well as she did, she knew precisely what he was going to say and she placed a finger on his lips before he could say anything.
"Harry did not need to know of my father's death at the hands of those disgusting Snatchers, Remus. He has enough to worry about that he does not need to carry around the guilt of my father's death and you know he would. He needs to stay focused." Lupin merely nodded and brought his wife to him in a crushing hug.
A little while later, Harry walked up Diagon Alley, his backpack swinging slightly with the pace he was going. He knocked on Griphook's door once there. No answer. Harry focused his hearing and the could hear low grunts from inside, which stopped abruptly. He grabbed the doorknob, only to find it locked.
He looked around before putting his shoulder into the door, forcing it open. He quickly ducked inside and closed the door. He slowly advanced down the hallway to the Goblin's living room. He found his small accomplice lying on the floor, hand clutching a silver cup. The goblin's eyes were closed and froth had formed in his mouth; he had obviously been having some sort of seizure, before his breathing stopped.
Harry rushed over and grabbed a hold of Griphook's hand, forcing it to release the cup. It dropped to the floor with a loud noise. Harry ignored it for the moment, all his attention on Griphook, who relaxed immediately and began breathing once more. Once the goblin seemed to be breathing normally, Harry turned his attention to the cup lying on the floor.
He stared at it for a moment. He knew he was late, but he had not thought the goblin would have gone after the cup without at least talking with him first. He didn't know what he could have done, he was not going to get into the Ministry, after all, but it would have been good to have known the plan. And why had the goblin picked up the cup with his bare hands? Griphook certainly knew better.
Well, there was nothing for it. Harry reached down and grabbed the cup with both hands. He was at once attacked by waves of psychic energy. He fell to his knees, trembling in pain, trying to maintain some semblance of control. This was so much more intense than the time when he'd destroyed the locket.
But at the same time, he felt more attuned to it somehow. He felt the walls he had erected around his mind shake with the force of the energy that was threatening to invade his mind. He had to destroy the thing before that happened, as he did not know if he could repel it like he had done with the locket.
So, once again, he pushed his mind outward, slowly pushing back against the power of the Horcrux. There were a few lapses, moments where Harry fought back with desperation, until eventually, he felt the cup get warm, then scalding hot, as had been the case with Slytherin's locket. He felt a small explosion in his mind and tried to let go of the cup when he felt a searing pain in his left palm. Harry tore it free, revealing a scar the shape of a Badger.
Harry grimaced. More scars. A snake in his right palm and a badger in the other. What next? A raven on his bollocks? Harry stayed on the floor for a few moments, panting heavily. He placed the cup in his backpack and walked over to Griphook and shook him slightly. The goblin awoke with a start.
"What, who... Oh, it's you, wizard. What happened?"
"You were attacked by the cup once you took it in your hands," Harry was furious. "You were dying but I got here just in time. What the bloody hell were you thinking? I warned you how dangerous this thing was!"
Griphook carefully got to his feet and sat down in a nearby chair, running his hands across his face. He felt as if he had fallen down several flights of stairs. He sat back in the chair, groaning as he did. He was certain he would ache for days.
"I cannot explain it, Mr. Potter. I felt this thing calling to me; an irresistible urge to touch it, to feel it in my hands. It was so exquisite in its perfection. It was meant to be admired, to be gazed upon with reverence."
"Well, I took care of it, Griphook. Do you mind telling me how your foray into the Ministry went."
"It was no problem at all, actually. It went without a hitch. Hardly anyone was in there, as a matter of fact. Apparently there was some kind of battle down by the docks last night. They found three bodies there, werewolves. One of which was Fenrir Greyback."
"Yes, well, Greyback won't be bothering anyone ever again, I made sure of that, Griphook. It's the reason I was late, actually."
The old goblin stared at Harry wide eyed. This boy killed Greyback? Now that was highly noteworthy. To be free of that menace was bloody brilliant, not to mention Voldemort lost a lieutenant, as well. Griphook made a point of telling the Head Goblin of the young man's prowess.
Harry got to his feet, wincing slightly as he did. So he had been injured in the battle. Not surprising at all, considering the foe. The boy approached him and extended his hand, which Griphook gladly shook.
"You saved my life, Harry Potter and as such, you may consider me in your debt. It was an honour to help you, lad."
"I thank you for the sentiment, Griphook. I would like to thank you for all your help. It was much more than I, or any wizard for that matter, could have expected. But there is something I'd like to ask. Why was the Lestrange vault not seized by the ministry when they were caught after torturing the Longbottoms? And I assume you recognized the goblet and that it was cursed? Why wasn't it removed?"
Griphook sighed. He sometimes forgot how young the man was. "Mr. Potter, you know relations between wizards and goblins are, at best tolerable. Back when Bagnold was minister, they were much worse and there was a time when I was afraid there might even be another goblin war, so we were disinclined to help her.
The only reason we allowed the Ministry to remove the contents of the Lestrange vault when they escaped Azkaban was because of the excellent foundation laid by Amelia Bones. As soon as she became head of the DMLE, she worked to better the relationship between our peoples because she understood the importance of being allies."
"I can't imagine Fudge being too happy about that," Harry said with derision.
"He never knew, Mr. Potter. All of this was done behind his back. Amelia was quite the woman and she will be missed. As to the goblet, it, by itself is not a dark artefact and there is no crime to be in possession of a cursed artefact. Particularly when it is safely secured in one's vault at Gringotts. Furthermore, we goblins are not thieves and customers can trust us to keep their things safe. And so long as our clients pay, we have no reason to inspect the vaults."
With nothing more to add, Harry left Griphook's house and walked down Diagon Alley one Horcrux richer. He Apparated away and a short time later, he entered Gryffindor's stronghold and headed for the basement, where he placed the cup on the table, next to the locket. Harry walked over to the fireplace and set it ablaze with a flick of his wrist, then he pulled out his sword and set about cleaning it, reflecting on the events of the last few days...
Chapter six, everyone. Hope you enjoyed it. Now, for those of you who do not like the flashbacks, I'm afraid we're not quite done with them yet. It should be ok, though, as things are picking up now.
Thanks for reading :-)
