VII
Harry moved his sword in slow, methodical movements, compact and precise. He flowed through the forms, a fine layer of sweat coating his body. He was panting slightly from the exertion, somewhat annoyed. He'd only been at this for an hour or so. Three weeks had passed since he destroyed the Horcrux within Hufflepuff's cup and November was rapidly nearing its end, but he was still feeling the effects of it.
His physical injuries were completely healed by now and while Tonks had closed the wounds on his back, the body still needed time to recover from the ordeal. That, coupled with the intense attack of the Horcrux had left Harry completely exhausted, both mentally and physically, as well as magically drained.
He experienced bouts of extreme weariness and sadness, which felt like clinical depression at times. He was getting better, though and he found exercising helped and he had been building up his strength and stamina once more. That had afforded him some time to think about the promise he'd made Griphook.
How was he going to approach this problem? Griphook had wanted him to use his influence once all this was over, which was all well and good, but the old goblin was assuming Harry would live through this whole thing.
The whole Horcrux in his soul thing, all but guaranteed he had to die to make certain old Snake Eyes could be killed. He put up his sword and cooled down for a few moments before stretching.
Harry grabbed a piece of parchment, a quill and a pot of ink. He had to try to set things in motion, just in case things went bad. But where to start? He rubbed his face, thinking hard. The list of beings and creatures mistreated by the wizard community felt near endless when he thought about it.
Some were more prominent than others, of course. The Fountain of magical Brethren came to Harry's mind. Destroyed in the battle that took Sirius's life, Harry was certain it had been rebuilt by the Ministry. Holding on to this notion of supposed superiority. What fools they were.
Harry shook his head, annoyed, twirling the quill in his hand. He'd only seen the fountain twice, but he remembered it vividly, the way wizards had propped themselves up as some kind of superiors to the centaurs, goblins and the house elves. Harry assumed this attitude extended to all magical beings, other than humans. Just how arrogant and conceited could you be? There were beings out there vastly superior than regular wizards.
For example, the Veela, while mostly human, could take over the world in a matter of days, should they desire it. It was simply a question of seducing the right people, after all. They were also just as capable at magic as regular wizards were, if Fleur's skills were anything to go by. She was also a very good person, if a bit blunt.
OK, fine, she was extremely blunt and could be a bit of a bitch and she sometimes spoke her mind with little regard to how others would react. Harry knew her mannerisms had to do with how people reacted to her Allure. It was a mask she had fashioned for herself to keep people at arm's length. Harry had always worn something of a mask himself and knew all to well how hard it could be to drop it. Even among friends.
People cursed with lycantrophy or infected with vampirism fared pretty badly within Britain. Harry assumed prejudice against werewolves was as old as the affliction itself. It was, for the most part unfounded, driven mostly by fear. Sure, Greyback had been an insane monster, but he had been an exception. His way was not what you'd call normal behaviour by werewolves. Most of them bit and infected others by accident, not knowing what they were doing.
Greyback on the other hand, had targeted children specifically, hoping to raise them to hate wizardkind and eventually build an army of his own. Harry rubbed the back of his neck. It would be hard work to try and change a whole people's views when they had been deeply held for untold generations. Still, it was those prejudices that drove people to join Greyback, who dragged them down with him to join Riddle's mad schemes.
People also held an unfounded fear of vampires. Their powers and abilities were scary to most people and that was perfectly understandable. However, the fact of the matter was that in over two hundred years, there had not been a single confirmed attack by a vampire in the whole of the UK.
A bloody long time, that. Perhaps it was time people came to grips with the fact that vampires were no longer a significant threat. There was but a single vampire clan in the whole of the UK and they kept to themselves.
He would have to go and try to discover if they had given their allegiance to Riddle. If he could find them. He had absolutely no idea where they lived, or if they lived together somewhere in some kind of conclave. Probably not. It seemed safer to assume they lived as regular humans, or wizards, that they had integrated themselves into society. He'd have to find the head of the clan, whoever that was.
And the giants. Now, no one would ever say people's fear of giants was irrational. Their numerous atrocities against the muggle community during the first wizard war were still fresh in people's minds. Quite many of them had been killed by special Auror squads, so the remaining giants in Great Britain had fled to the most remote areas of the world, hiding themselves away. They were known to occupy certain places in both Scandinavia and eastern Europe.
According to Hagrid, there were few of them left by now, since they were not great at living together and were slowly killing their own species to extinction. How siding with Riddle was going to change that, Harry didn't know, but there was a lot of hate on both sides on that one, so he gave up on the giants right away.
Perhaps they joined simply to kill something else than a fellow giant for a change? Perhaps it might be best to simply get rid of them once and for all... Harry shook his head in dismissal. Dark thoughts and distasteful. Of course he would never advocate such drastic measures.
What Harry felt was truly unfortunate and disappointing was the way half-giants were seen and treated by others. On one hand, humans treated them with scorn due to their lineage and on the other, giants looked down on them because of their smaller stature and inferior strength, the only two things that seemed to matter to their brutish race.
Harry sighed sadly. He knew Hagrid had always had a problem with the way some people reacted to him. Most British wizards spent at least seven years around the big guy and Hagrid was a very likeable person, but not everyone could look past his freakishly big body, or cast away their bias, which they usually carried over from their families.
Centaurs were not a large race, by any means. The single colony in the UK was safely hidden in The Forbidden Forest. Harry did not relish having to go and speak to the Centaurs, their disdain for wizardkind burned brightly. Harry did not blame them in the slightest, knowing they had been used as slave labour in ages past. People like Dolores Umbridge saw them as filthy halfbreeds, and treated them as such.
Perhaps the Centaurs should have been allowed to keep her that time in the forest? It would have complicated things, certainly, but she had deserved it and no mistake. In truth, Centaurs were highly intelligent, and masters at astronomy and divination, a skill many wizards dismissed as fleeting and mostly based on chance. Harry knew better, of course, himself being the subject of a prophecy. Harry rolled his eyes. Bloody Trelawney and her prophecy...
The fact many wizards believed the awesomely clever goblins to be inferior to wizards astounded Harry to no end. They ran bloody Gringotts, basically controlling the wizarding world economy, which made them absolutely vital to the progression of society. Furthermore, their skill as metalsmiths was nothing short of legendary. The objects he was hunting, along with Gryffinor's sword were clear testaments to that.
Professor Flitwick would be of invaluable help when it came to holding talks with the goblins, being a half goblin himself. Harry had sometimes wondered how that had happened, or how Hagrid had happened. Goblins were so tiny, and... humans... Harry shook his head. Nope, he was absolutely not going there...
The first order of business would be to allow them the use of a wand. While goblins performed their own specific kind of magic without the aid of a wand, the instrument was a symbol of status, one wizardkind had always denied them.
As a result, goblins refused to share the secrets of their own magic with wizards. Harry also had to admit, it was pretty foolish to be on such bad terms with the ones who had all your gold. In locked vaults. In the ground. Guarded by dragons. Stupid wizards...
Last but certainly not least, Harry put quill to parchment regarding House elves. The way many House elves had been treated throughout history made Harry tremble with anger and he vividly remembered Dobby's bandaged hands and ears, a testament to Lucius Malfoy's mistreatment of Dobby. Harry knew Malfoy's way was not universal, but he suspected it was widespread enough to be recognized as a problem. And the fact they were bound to their 'masters' and could not be freed unless given clothes was just cruel.
Harry hated to admit it, but the way Sirius had treated Kreacher, his own House elf, had a big hand in his godfather's death. Sirius had of course not hated House elves in general, just Kreacher, because he, in Sirius's mind, represented the Black family and Sirius hated everything to do with those people.
Harry knew it would be impossible to force families to free their House elves. Most of the elves wouldn't even want to be free, but he would try his best to make sure they were treated properly, and laws put in place to severely punish those who abused them.
Harry leaned back in the chair. He had written down almost three full pages of all kinds of notes, detailing the promise he'd made Griphook and what he'd like to to, who to talk to and who the most important people were, how likely he'd be to succeed. Looking at the parchment, Harry was struck with an idea.
It was perhaps the most radical of all the ideas he had put on that piece of parchment and had almost no chance of coming to fruition, but he jotted it down there anyway, at the top. Harry rolled up the parchment and put it into his Bag, thinking he'd better give this to Hermione as soon as possible.
Thinking about the matter further, he realized how fortunate he was. He was friends with Lupin, Hagrid, Dobby and Firenze. While not exactly friends, he knew he could count on Griphook's assistance in this matter, as well as Professor's Flitwick's. Fleur would be more than willing to help him also as well as her sister Gabrielle. He had contacts in almost every group of beings he'd scribbled down on that piece of paper. That only left the vampires.
Harry walked over to a bookcase and took out Gryffindor's beastiary; a very thorough book when it came to the many different beings known to live in Great Britain. While it was over a thousand years old and very likely outdated, it might provide him with a reference point as were to start looking for vampires.
Harry leafed through the giant book, until he found the instalment on vampires, but it provided nothing of note, except on how to kill them. He closed the book and returned it to the case and sat down again, rubbing his chin. He needed to shave soon.
Suddenly Harry slapped his forehead in irritation. He was going about this all wrong! Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, the one he'd attended with Luna... What was the name of that writer, who wanted to write his biography? Eldred something... Eldred Worple! He'd lived among vampires and even befriended one. Sanguini, Harry thought the name was. There was his way in. He'd have to find the man and get him to reveal the location of the head of the vampire clan.
Some time later, Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley and headed to Flourish and Blott's. It was rather early in the day, so Harry found the store mostly empty. He approached the clerk and asked him about 'Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires'. Harry reckoned reading the book would be worthwhile, a good way to understand them.
One of the things Harry had always liked about Flourish and Blott's was a small section in the back, a sort of café where customers could sit and read their newly purchased books. Harry found a small table in a corner, with a view of the door, as he liked knowing who entered and who left.
Harry started on the book and found it surprisingly fun to read. Worple's writing style was both vibrant and easy going, while being interesting and informative at the same time. As Harry suspected, there was no mention at all of where any of the vampires lived. How easy that would have been. What it did give the reader was an amazing insight into the life of a vampire and they were not at all what Harry had expected.
The most commonly held belief concerning Vampires, was that they needed human blood to survive. While it was true that vampires did in fact require blood in order to live, human blood could easily be replaced by that of any other mammal. The problem was, that human blood was highly addictive. This was getting very interesting.
According to the book, vampire attacks had been fairly common in the past and the fanged creatures were considered to be the apex predators for a very long time. They believed it to be so themselves, certainly. Right up until vampire hunters burst onto the scene in the thirteenth century. Over the course of the next five centuries, the tide turned and vampires were hunted to such an extent, some believed them to have been driven out of Britain, France, and most of Germany.
Such was not the case, however. Around two hundred years ago, the vampire clans of Britain united under one banner and elected a new head, someone who brought about many changes. He advocated peace and implored his fellow vampires to accept the fact that with their few numbers, they could never stand up to wizardkind.
Some had wanted to go out and try and convert as many regular humans as possible, but that plan was swiftly swept away as it was both impractical and would take much to long, since only one person in a thousand that got bitten actually turned into a vampire. The rest died a horrible, painful death. The new leader, Marcus also understood the ramifications of such a plan.
On one hand, hunting vampires was both time consuming and expensive and Marcus was certain if there were no more attacks on regular humans, wizards would be content with leaving them alone. On the other hand, if vampires would go and redouble their attacks, wizards would bring down fire upon them the like of which they'd never seen and almost certainly not stop until every last vampire had been slain.
After a peace summit held in an undisclosed location, vampire attacks mostly stopped and wizards left the vampires alone. They were allowed to roam free and pursue any field of work they so pleased, under the condition they informed whomever was in charge of any workplace of their real identity, as vampires had the ability to pass off as regular humans. A little pale and a bit sickly looking, but otherwise indistinguishable from your average human. Unless they smiled.
The sudden change did not sit well with a small group of vampires, who still remembered the 'good old days' when humans cowered in fear. This led to a long and bloody civil war within the vampire community, which, luckily was fought in secret, known only to a select few wizards and Muggle officials, who were kept informed on the status of the war. Eventually, Marcus emerged victorious and with victory came an era of peace, which still lasted to this day. That was not to say vampires had it good, far from it.
Their lives were filled with prejudice, even though laws were put in place to ensure no being could be discriminated against, based on race, gender, sexual preference or beliefs. While the idea behind these laws was noble, they did little to change the way most non human beings were treated. As was often the case with such laws they were hardly enforced and people were rarely penalized for breaking them, as prejudices ran rampant in society.
Harry flipped the last page and on the inside of the back cover was a picture of Eldred Worple with his wife and child. They lived in Hereford. As it turned out, Worple was not only a writer, he did some freelance work for both The Quibbler and The Daily Prophet. Harry closed the book, a small grin on his face. He knew exactly how to get in touch with the writer.
Several days later, Harry walked through the doors of Hereford Cathedral. While he was in no way a religious man, Harry still felt a little bit of awe as he walked down the aisle and looked around, his eyes lingering on the man nailed to the cross. Finally, he saw Eldred Worple in a little side room, staring at a large medieval map which Harry recognized as the Mappa Mundi.
He made his way over to the room and stood next to Worple for a minute in silence before handing him a small bird figurine, which Worple had stashed away in a pre-disclosed location. The writer put it in his pocket and eyed Harry and his surroundings in a nonchalant manner, obviously well versed in this kind of clandestine meetings. He spoke softly, even though they were alone.
"You have information regarding Harry Potter's whereabouts?"
"No, sorry, I lied about that. I need information I suspect only you can provide me with."
Worple eyed the young man suspiciously before turning his attention to the map in the display case. There was only one thing that could mean; the man beside him wanted to know about the vampires.
Well, he was certainly the most knowledgeable person around the UK when it came to his fanged friends, but most of it could be read in his book. He noticed the stranger looking at him with an intense gaze, which made him really uncomfortable and he cleared his throat nervously.
"What can I help you with?"
"I need to get in touch with the vampires, Mr. Worple. Relax, I'm not one of Voldemort's lackeys, in fact, I'm working against him. A man in your profession must have heard something from your contacts in the Aurors about someone fighting Voldemort. Someone they can't identify or find. I believe my actions should speak for themselves, Mr. Worple. Perhaps you can tell me, have they been approached by Voldemort yet?"
Repressing a shudder at the Dark Lord's name, Eldred Worple arched an eyebrow. This was him? The... Vigilante? Ministry officials had been scratching their heads for months, trying to figure out who this person was. Although, it had to be said, the Aurors had not been overly enthusiastic in their pursuit.
Particularly since that incident with Greyback, as they assumed the vigilante was responsible for that bastard's demise. He really was fighting against Voldemort, so perhaps his cause was just. However, what the man was asking of him was no small thing.
"Not to my knowledge, stranger. However, I am not privy to such sensitive information, but I do not believe Marcus would join that murdering bastard. Not after all the trouble he went through to bring the vampire wars to an end. It would make no sense." Harry nodded, this was perfectly reasonable.
"Call me Jack. There have to be some within the vampire community who'd relish the idea of fighting for Voldemort, if only for a chance at some sort of revenge. I need to speak with the head of the clan to see if there's a danger of vampires suddenly attacking wizards. Fighting one war is hard enough."
"I cannot betray-"
"Voldemort already has the giants on his side, as well as a number of werewolves and the Dementors. Just imagine what he could do, should he gain the support of the vampires as well. You've seen it already, the effect the Dementors are having. You remember that article in The Prophet the other day which said that general happiness is down by a sizeable amount and people queried could put their finger on why? At the same time, suicide rates are up as well. This trend started fairly soon after the Dementors left Azkaban, and I'd bet my last knot Voldemort has something to do with it."
"Why hasn't You-Know-Who sent massive groups of Dementors to attack everyone, then? I assume that would make it a short war."
"There aren't enough of those soul-sucking fiends for him to do that, so he does the next best thing. He attacks morale," Harry said. "Think about it, Mr. Worple. Aside from the actual fighting itself, information gathering and supplies, morale is the most important thing in any war. You can imagine how low morale affects people in war, can't you?
"I gave my word, 'Jack'. My honour as a journalist and a writer is at stake here. If people hear about me leaking their secrets, no one will talk to me again. It will ruin my career."
Harry watched the man out of the corner of his eye. He hated doing this, he truly did. Especially a man of actual principles, which was a refreshing change when considering Harry's dealings with the press had been, up to this point, been mostly limited to Rita Skeeter.
"Mr. Worple... Eldred... Think about your family. Your wife is Muggleborn, isn't she?"
"Yes, she is, what of it?."
"And what do you think Voldemort will do if he comes to power? At best he'll make Muggleborns wear a star on their sleeve, the same as Hitler did to the Jews. At worst-"
"All right, all right, I'll help you. I will not tell you anything you can't find in my book, I cannot betray Marcus' trust. It may take some time for me to set up a meeting, to convince my friend to speak with a stranger, but I believe I can persuade Marcus to at least meet with you in a neutral place. Please, come back here in three weeks and I may have something for you. It cannot happen any sooner, because Marcus is out of the country."
"Thank you, Mr. Worple."
With that, Harry left the cathedral at a brisk pace. Three weeks... Then he'd have time to look into the Dementors. After mentioning that article to Mr. Worple, he'd not been able to let it fall from his mind. He hated those things almost as much as he did Tom Riddle. Well, to be honest, his hatred for the enemy had faded and turned into pity some time past. He was still angry, but he refused to hate him, or anyone.
His time spent with Gryffindor had certainly helped. Many an evening they'd spent talking about Riddle and why he'd become what he was and eventually Harry had let go of his hatred. He knew where it led and he would not allow it to happen. Despite his best efforts, however, he did hate the Dementors. If there ever were things that had no business being a part of the world, it was them.
Harry felt a shiver as he remembered that evening in the underpass. Dudley lying on the ground, the cold pressing down on him, the unspeakable dread encroaching on his very soul. The feeling of utter helplessness, all the happiness drained out of you. Not dissimilar to the Succubi of legend, who sucked out your life force. Only, they had the decency to make your last moments on this earth pleasurable ones.
Finding a Dementor should not really be that hard. All he'd have to do was find an area with an unusually high rate of suicides, places with rumours of people falling into a vegetative state without apparent cause. If a Dementor fed on you for too long, you would eventually become an empty shell, devoid of anything called emotion, or anything, really.
The ultimate weapon of the Dementor, the Dementor's Kiss sucked out your very soul, a fate worse than death. You would, in essence, cease to exist, yet your shell remained. A fate worse than death, indeed. Anyway, a Dementor would be almost certainly be found in such an area.
Harry was faced with another problem. Assuming what he'd heard and read, there was no way to destroy Dementors. You could only hold them at bay and eventually drive them away with the Patronus charm, supposedly. Harry was not convinced. They weren't spirits, they had physical bodies, so they had to breed, somehow.
They did not simply grow from thin air. Anything with a physical body could be destroyed, he was certain. But if he took this train of thought further, he had to wonder why there was no record of someone killing those fiends. Was there really no one in history who'd managed to kill one? That didn't seem plausible at all, either.
He was headed for uncharted waters once more. All he could do was to find one and try. He was certain he could fight against their effects for long enough to try and destroy one. They fed on your happiness, so it seemed a good bet you'd be able to fight it by focusing on memories you felt strongly about, but did not make you happy. Well, he had those in abundance and his Occlumency might come in handy.
About a week later, around ten o'clock in the evening, Harry walked along a deserted street in Liverpool, his sword strapped to his back and a chocolate bar in his coat pocket. Always good to have a nice piece of chocolate around, especially when you were hunting Dememtors. He'd been travelling all over the place in the days since his meeting with , trying to find a Dementor. So far, he'd been without luck.
Harry grinned like a maniac. How crazy was it to go out and look for Dementors? He thought the chances of finding at least one of those things in this city were rather good. The city was in a bit of a slump and it did not help matters that Liverpool and Everton were apparently both having a rather dismal go of it in the Premier League. At any rate, he was getting frustrated. He wanted to be looking for Ravenclaw's diadem, but he had no leads whatsoever. He had one theory, but he'd not had the time to explore it yet.
Harry walked on, grumbling about what he'd rather be doing, when he felt the temperature drop very suddenly. He stopped short and let out a breath, which came out in a cloud of steam. He heard several people take a sharp breath from around the next corner, followed by a scream that was cut short. Harry sprinted towards the corner, unsheathing his sword as he went.
As Harry came around the corner, found himself in a dead end. He noticed a trio of Dementors at once, all of whom had placed their hands on three homeless people, who seemed to make the alley their home. The Dementors leaned in, preparing to unleash their ultimate power when Harry rushed them, blade at the ready.
"Hey! Get away from them, you filthy bastards!"
The three fiends floated away from their intended targets and focused their attention on Harry as he came charging down the a wide alley. The three homeless men stared at Harry, who motioned for them to flee, which they did, at a dead run. As Harry closed in, the air became colder and colder until it became freezing. It had been raining earlier, so the ground was slippery, ice forming as the air cooled.
Harry slowed down to a cautious walk. He did not relish the idea of falling on his arse. He knew they would descend upon him in a flash if he did. By now, the Dementors had fanned out and surrounded him almost completely. Harry assumed they were somewhat confused by his actions, as most people either ran for their lives or simply folded in a heap. Well, he would not be such easy pickings.
Suddenly, one of the Dementors dived sharply towards Harry, its arms extended. Harry formed a fireball and flung it at the Dementor's head, catching it by surprise. The ball exploded into the Dementor's face, causing its cloak to catch fire. Arms flailing, the evil being staggered away. It thumped against a wall and Harry dashed forward, slashing diagonally with his sword along the front of the Dementor's torso.
The shrill scream that followed as the thing crumbled surprised Harry and sent shivers down his spine and threatened to burst his eardrums. Harry did not pause, however and spun away as he felt a Dementor closing in on his back. He thrust his left hand forward and sent a spear of air toward his enemy, which caused it to stumble. Harry's sword pierced it through its center mass and it sank limply down to the floor of the alley.
He hoped the frantic pace would prevent the monsters from using their powers, as he made sure to focus completely on his movements, using his Occlumency to that effect. Harry used the opportunity to search for the third one. He looked frantically all over, but did not find it. Those bloody things made no sound whatsoever and he could not smell them, either.
He turned around, his back to the wall where the first Dementor had fallen, his eyes roaming across what little sky he could see from the alley floor. The third one appeared on the other side, its gaze levelled at him unwavering from within the hood. It floated his way slowly. Harry's hand tightened its grip on his sword and a fireball formed in his left palm. He took a single step forward, when he suddenly felt unnaturally long fingers close around his throat.
He was drenched in more cold than he'd ever felt in his entire life. It snuffed out the fire in his hand, while he almost dropped the sword from the other. A sinking, desperate feeling washed over him when he saw the fallen Dementor rise from the alley floor, before joining its companion in front of him. How was this possible? He had felt the sword pierce through what little flesh there was on that one, and even heard the flames sear the skin of the other, who now held him by the neck.
Harry started to panic. He wanted to raise his hand and pry the fingers loose, but what was the point? They would simply overpower him again and again, if that was required. How could he have been so arrogant to think he, a mere human could defeat such a being? Harry struggled weakly, but could not bring himself to fight.
The grip with which the Dementor held Harry was not strong, but then, it didn't have to be. Their psychic powers kept people from struggling much, if at all. Similar to the way an insect relied on its poison to weaken the prey and make it docile.
Harry watched with horror as the other two floated even closer, their pace agonizingly slow as his mind reeled from their relentless attacks. Images floated across his mind, each one more depressing than the one that came before it. Harry felt tears forming in his eyes as his mental shields evaporated.
He didn't want to die. Or did he? Perhaps it would be for the best. What good was he anyway? Betrayer of friends and murderer. Images of himself killing Greyback and the other two werewolves danced in his eyes. He hadn't had any choice! They would have killed both him and Lupin and perhaps countless others! Had there not been a choice? Perhaps he was just as bad as Riddle, he wondered as the pained visage of Quirinius Quirrell flashed across his mind.
Finally the pair of Dementors had reached Harry and one of them raised its hands to the hood covering its head and revealed the hideous face hidden beneath the flimsy cloth. It had a greyish hue and pasty looking skin. The skin partly covered the empty eye sockets, as if melted wax had been poured all over them.
Harry's eyes followed a long, narrow and pointy nose down to a mouth that had no lips and no teeth, just a gaping hole. The Dementor placed its hands on Harry's head, who found some strength and started to struggle faintly. This caused the hand on Harry's neck to squeeze harder, blocking his windpipe.
This seemed to snap Harry out of his stupor. He lifted his left hand pushed the Dementors away as hard as he could. He then grabbed the hand covering his neck and broke a pair of fingers, before reaching back to throw the shocked Dementor over his shoulder. As the fiend flew over his shoulder, Harry launched it toward the far wall with a well timed spear of wind.
He felt his mind flood with memories and feelings for his friends. Keep your friends close, Snape had said. Not that he'd ever admit it, but Snape had been very right. Harry felt absolutely elated as his heart filled with emotion and passion for life. He became aware of the three Dementors swiftly gliding toward him once more, not willing to relinquish their prey.
Harry smiled weakly. He would meet his friends again. Oh yes he would. In a world free of Tom Riddle. He raised his sword, thoughts of his friends driving him and for some reason, the memory of cradling Narcissa in his arms floated across his mind as well. He pointed the sword at the Dementors and from the tip burst forth a massive silver stag.
The three fiends staggered and stopped, before trying to flee. The stag was faster, however. It charged the Dementors at great speed and before they could get away, the elegant animal skewered them with its antlers. Their screams echoed in the night, before fading away as they twitched in their death throes.
Harry sagged against the wall and watched as the Dementors simply faded away, leaving only their tattered cloaks as evidence of their existence. The stag trotted over to Harry and stared down at him, a peaceful feeling radiating from it. Harry pushed off the wall and raised his hand toward the animal. He'd seen his Patronus before, of course, but this time it was different.
It was much larger than before and more solid. The crown was much larger and more majestic than before. It felt more alive, if that made any sense. Harry softly touched the stag's nose and the animal gently nuzzled his hand. Harry's mind cleared and he felt immeasurably better. It was almost as if the Patronus was feeding happiness into his soul. The animal stepped back and looked at Harry for a moment, before there was a flash of light.
Once the light faded, there was tall, silvery statuesque woman standing in front of Harry, next to Prongs. She had long, wavy hair that shone brighter than the rest of her. She was wearing a lose fitting toga, held together in the middle with a fine belt. In her right hand, she was holding a sword, exactly like Harry's own, and in her left, she was carrying a heater shield, adorned with a variant of the symbol of the goddess Freyja.
The woman approached Harry and gently brushed his cheek with her knuckles, before she placed a hand on his chest. There was a slight pulse of light, and Harry felt the rest of the cold and sadness fade. She flashed him a brilliant smile, then turned and mounted Prongs, and the pair bounded away, fading as they did.
Harry found a box to the side of the alley and took a seat, resting his sword across his knees. He shook his head, wearily. So his Patronus had changed. What next? That fight had been a close one and he understood he really was in over his head. Most of the time, anyway. Oh, and he'd need to be careful of the arrogance that cropped up sometimes. On a positive note; he did not look like he had gone through a meat grinder, so that was something. A slight chill had returned to his body. He reached into his pocket and tore open the bar of chocolate.
He broke of a piece and let it melt in his mouth. A warm feeling spread through his body and he smiled as he remembered that time when Lupin had given him a piece of chocolate on the Hogwarts Express after his first encounter with the hellish Dementors. Lupin and Tonks... Perhaps he should pay them a visit soon, since they knew his secret and he could definitely do with some company.
He took a another bite of the chocolate, his mind wandering to the fight once more. Again, he'd been arrogant and overconfident, something he had to be wary of. He also needed to think more before charging in like that, else he'd meet an untimely end. One good thing had come of this fight, though. He'd established the fact that Dementors could not be destroyed with physical weapons. It had been an experiment, anyway, one which further research was required, done by someone wiser than him. Hermione, perhaps?
In the end, he was happy that, at least it hadn't been a complete waste of time, the time he'd spent looking for the things; there were three fewer Dementors in the world. Well, he'd head home for now and wait for the time to meet Mr. Worple again. But first, he wanted to talk to the person who had witnessed the fight.
A loud crack at the mouth of the alley and Harry recognized the tell tale sound of Alastor Moody's wooden prosthetic. Harry relaxed and leaned back against the wall. He was too tired to care about Moody learning his secret. He had been planning on contacting the retired Auror in regards to the Snatchers anyway. He'd been putting it off, because Moody's magical eye would instantly see through any disguise.
Besides, the old man had been watching the fight and most likely recognized his Patronus, so now was a great time to talk to him. The fact was, any fight against the Snatchers was bound to be anything but pleasant and he needed help from someone more experienced when attacking them. The old man finally stood before him and stared at him in stoic silence. Harry looked right back at the grizzled fighter and smiled wearily.
"Moody."
"Potter."
"Want to have a seat? There's a right comfy looking crate over there, to your left. I would offer you some chocolate, but it seems I ate it all. Sorry. I could have used your help earlier, you know. I almost got kissed and let me tell you, the girl was not my type."
Moody stared at the young man in front of him. So the boy had known he was watching, eh? This new Potter really was something else. He'd been watching the battle before, a few rooftops away. A nice advantage of his magical eye, the ability to zoom in on whatever he was watching. The kid could fight, of that there was no doubt and he was smart enough not to use his wand, as it could be tracked; the trace had never been deactivated.
Of course, that same wand was safely tucked away at Grimmauld Place, anyway, hidden by the wards. And this transformation was nothing, if not fascinating. If you cared about that kind of thing, which he did not. All he cared about at the moment was that Potter seemed to be all right.
"Constant vigilance, boy! You were sloppy! Never allow the enemy to get behind you like that! It's a death sentence, when you're in a melee," The old Auror growled. "Now, what the bloody hell were you thinking, going after those things without a wand? You tired of life, Potter?"
Harry cocked a curious eyebrow and shrugged, obviously not wanting to talk about that. "That's it? No lectures on how irresponsible I've been, or how much trouble I've caused?"
Moody chuckled wryly as he sat down next to Harry and took a swig from his flask. He passed it to the boy, who took a swig himself. He eyed the metal container in his hands. Chocolate milk? Really? Well, it made sense if he was there looking for Dementors, but still. He gave Moody a questioning look as he passed the flask over. Moody harrumphed.
"I don't drink alcohol, boy. I might be caught unawares. And to answer your other question; nay, I'm not going to lecture you. You're a grown man, not some snot nosed brat, though I will admit I was less than happy when you disappeared. Besides, I'm fairly certain our resident Metamorphmagus gave you an earful when you brought Lupin back home. You've been awful busy since last spring, haven't you, boy?"
"I suppose. What are you doing here, Moody? Looking for Dementors?"
"Aye, lad. An old schoolmate working in the Muggle healthcare business contacted me, wondering if something new was afoot on our side of the curtain. Apparently there's been a bit of a spike in suicides around here recently and they can't figure out why." Harry nodded along with Moody. Riddle had not been too aggressive in his attacks on muggles, but someone was bound to realize something was going on.
Moody passed the flask once more and Harry took a long swig. "Hey, since you're here, I was wondering if you were up for some action on, say Thursday night?"
Moody slipped the flask into his coat, eyeing the young man as he did. "What did you have in mind, Potter?"
"I'm going after the Snatchers. I'm getting tired of those bastards. Going after people simply because they're Muggle born? Fuckers. I know their base is in the Forest of Dean, somewhere. I also know Umbridge has her fingers in that pie, but unless she's there, I don't see how we can do anything about her, unfortunately. Anyway, you up for it?"
Moody frowned darkly. Bloody Snatchers and their list of 'undesirables', which annoyingly enough, had a lot of Order members on it. All of the Weasleys were on there, except young Ginny, as she was still in school and fairly safe, for the moment. Himself was there as well as Tonks and Lupin and Granger, and a few others.
Shack had managed to stay ahead of it, until he became fed up and resigned from the DMLE. Messing with the Snatcher's operations would help the Order significantly as Order members would be able to move around more freely with fewer people actively watching them.
"So, Greyback gave them up before you put him down, did he? Well done there, lad! Well done indeed. None of the Snatchers we have caught seemed to know where the base was. Some form of Obliviation we have never seen. Of course I'm willing to go after them. I hate those bloody bastards. The two of us are not enough, though and I am not suicidal enough to try. Let me bring Lupin, Shacklebolt and the two oldest Weasley brothers and we're good to go."
Harry nodded reluctantly. Moody was right. With the sheer number the Snatchers had at their disposal, assaulting their base of operations with just Moody would be too reckless. And with that the pair went their separate ways.
Moody arrived at the Burrow to find all available Order members there, as he requested. He motioned for them to join him in the dining room and sat down at the head of the table. He sighed inwardly as he scanned the faces of the people, who were looking at him expectantly. His gaze lingered on the current Headmistress of Hogwarts. How he had ever let the girl talk him into taking over from Dumbledore as the leader of this little group, he would never understand.
"I've some news," he began. "The Dementors were most definitely in Liverpool in high numbers, but I expect them to avoid the city for now."
As usual, Granger leaned forward and stared at him excitedly. "And why is that?"
Moody smirked. He liked the lass quite a bit. A good head on her shoulders, not to mention brave. He was quite certain she would get a rush from this, then. He casually tossed a torn, threadbare piece of pitch black cloth onto the table. Granger, followed by the rest of those at the table looked upon it curiously.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I just watched our friend the vigilante destroy a trio of Dementors, lass. Not drive them away. Dead. Gone. Nothing left but this thing here."
The room descended into pin-drop silence. Wide eyes stared at Mad-Eye as if he was... Well, mad. Hermione, however was immediately curious. You could not kill Dementors! It was impossible. Right? Every book, test and research on the subject had proven as much. Admittedly, the wizarding world was nowhere near as studious about the world and its trappings as the Muggles were.
Muggles always strove forwards, asking themselves 'why' and 'how', and most technological advances came about because of the need to overcome some problem. Wizards tended not to do that and Hermione suspected it was mostly due to the fact that a lot of wizards explained things away with phrases like 'it's magic'.
She huffed quietly. Wizards were just plain lazy. There was an obvious reason why most innovations in the magical community over the last fifty years or so had been put forth by Muggleborns and half bloods. Looking at the cloth again, she asked the obvious question.
"How?"
Moody favoured her with a predatory smile before answering the question. "I've not idea how it actually works, but they were shredded by what must have been the most solid Patronus I have ever seen. They did not stand a chance. It was quite the spectacle. Once it was over, I had a nice chat with Him."
He gazed over the group again. "Which leads me to the other thing I wanted to discuss with you this evening. He asked for my assistance in a matter which he felt required our attention. He's gained knowledge of the Snatchers' base of operations and is planning a raid Thursday evening. I told him I would help, but only if I could bring more people."
This revelation was met with an excited buzz. Every member sitting at the table had been anxious to have a proper go at them, especially after what happened with Ted Tonks. There had been little action, however, aside from a scrap or two, as the Order was mostly a reactive group. The chance to be on the offensive end for once was welcomed heartily by everyone there. Moody raised his hand for silence.
"If you are willing, Remus, Shack, Bill and Charlie, I would like for you to accompany me."
"What!?"
Tonks shot out of her chair, which fell over with a crash. She was glaring fiercely at the grizzled old man and her hair turned a deep red. He was going to deny her a chance of going after the bastards who killed her father? Absolutely not. She would have some measure of vengeance. She stared at Moody for a while longer, before she felt her husband's hand on hers, pulling her gently down to her seat. Moody looked firmly at his former protégé.
"You're too involved, Tonks, you know that. I need people who I know will have a level head and your husband, for one, will be distracted by your presence. This is a big operation and a chance we have been waiting for and we can't fuck it up. Now, I have made my decision, and I expect you to respect my authority, rookie!"
Tonks glared angrily at Moody,then hung her head. He was right, of course. Besides, she needed to be here, ready to heal anyone who was sent back to this place. She gave a resigned sigh and sat back in her chair, prompting her husband to put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him.
After Tonks' outburst, the meeting went without further incident; the rest of the Order members accepted Moody's decision without question. He valued their opinions, but ultimately, he had the final say in every big decision that was made.
Harry crouched down at the edge of the clearing, watching the old, abandoned manor house closely. It was hidden by the trees rather effectively, but there were strong Muggle repelling wards surrounding the property, as well as anti Apparition wards and anti Portkey charms. The perimeter wards were pretty bad, so they would not have much trouble getting past them unnoticed.
He glanced at the Order members at his side. They had met up with him at a predetermined location outside the forest a while ago and to Harry's surprise, it had gone without a hitch. Harry had decided to don a mask this night, because he'd be surrounded by people he knew and the chances of one of them recognizing him were high. Harry had already scouted ahead and gathered the necessary information, which he relayed to his temporary team mates.
"They have superior numbers. No fewer than twenty, I reckon, and a few prisoners. No Umridge, though. We cannot underestimate them, but we all know these idiots are lacking in talent and intellect is not very valued in that group, either. They make up for that in numbers." Moody nodded; he was of a mind with Potter on that one.
"I say we attack from three sides, in pairs," Moody suggested. Harry shook his head at that, and the retired Auror gave him the word.
"I was thinking I might simply stroll up to the front door and announce my presence with a bit of a show. They're deathly afraid of me and I can keep their attention long enough to allow you to slip in unnoticed. Wait until they come out to meet me. Don't worry, Scabior is dimwitted enough to send them out. The prisoners are our priority and I want you to focus on them."
"And you? What will you be doing?" Remus asked with concern.
"I am going after Scabior, I don't want that fucking coward getting away. We get him and the whole thing falls apart. Most of the Snatchers are bloody cowards, just like their second in command. Hit them hard enough and they will run and find themselves a nice hole and stay there. Umbridge is so bloody incompetent, there's no chance she'll be able to keep it all together by herself."
Moody had to agree with the lad. It was a solid plan, if a bit risky. For Potter, mostly. Bill removed a small device from his pocket and performed a series of complex wand movements. The thing in his hand glowed and Harry felt a small tremor in his senses. Bill pocketed the device and gave a thumbs up.
"I 'borrowed' it from the goblins. It allows their curse breakers to quickly deactivate a isolated parts of certain wards without being discovered, if they are simple enough. I figured it might come in handy."
Harry smirked at Bill. Smart and competent; a winning combination. He'd always liked Bill a lot, even though he had only met him a few times. He hoped things were good with him and Fleur, but was a bit concerned over how faint Fleur's scent was on him. Discarding the thought for now, Harry got to his feet as the others tapped their wands on their heads and disillusioned themselves and followed Harry through the gap in the wards.
While he strode down the path to the front of the building, the others fanned out, making their way to windows and doors. Harry gathered power into his arm guards until they were positively humming. Time to make his presence known.
He wanted to draw as many of the Snatchers out of the building as possible. Not only would it place the others on the team in less danger, it would also give them greater chance to release the prisoners and help them escape.
"Hey! Scabior, you rotten bastard! You in there?" Harry made a fist and the double doors exploded outward, as well as a few windows on each side. Harry heard gasps and the shuffling of feet from inside before someone shouted back.
"Who... Who goes there? Don't you know who we are?"
Harry smirked at that. "You know exactly who I am, so stop with the bloody games. Did you honestly think I would never go after you idiots once I got rid of Greyback?" Scabior tried to put up a brave front and laughed. It came out as a nervous squeak.
"We... We have twenty five of our best men here! You are completely outmatched. Go back where you came from and you may live a little longer! If you don't, we execute the prisoners!"
Harry's sensitive ears found a few Snatchers exiting the building under a disillusionment charm, ten of them, or so. Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Only ten? Well, the team would have no problem dealing with the rest of them, then.
Harry suddenly spun in a circle and sent a gust of wind in all directions and effectively broke the disillusionment charm his enemies had placed upon themselves. He rolled forward as a number of stunners came roaring his way and, judging by the colour; a bone shattering hex. Harry was a bit surprised. Ossus fractionis was a fairly powerful spell.
He barely dodged another curse, this one a sickly orange. He could practically feel the power radiating from the spell. As Harry came out of his roll, he tore a small rock from the ground and sent it shooting into the head of the nearest Snatcher, who went down hard and did not move after that. Harry smelled blood in the air and wondered if he'd killed the man, as he twirled around another curse. Yep, the man was not breathing.
He winced. He had not intended to kill anyone. Another two went down from a well placed stone to the head, but Harry caught a bludgeoning hex to the side of the head, causing him to stumble and he became slightly dizzy. He dropped to the ground and a Bombarda sailed over his head and impacted one of his enemies in the chest, which exploded. Harry was beginning to understand that the group of men he was fighting were not Snatchers. He was fighting full blown Death Eaters. Well, fuck. It was a bloody trap. After all that time? It was surprising, but more of an annoyance than anything else.
Trying to keep one ear on what was going on inside, Harry was pleased to hear that his group was already engaging the enemy with great success. Seemed like all the Death Eaters were out here with him. Aaaw, he felt positively special, now. All the prettiest girls came out to play with him? Well, perhaps it was time to get serious.
Harry channelled power into his arm guard and slammed his fist into the ground, which resulted in a mini earthquake. The resulting tremors and shock wave knocked three of the remaining six Death Eaters off their feet.
Harry darted over to the nearest one and slammed his foot onto the man's face, eliminating him from the fight. Before the rest of them could recover, Harry had taken out the other two he knocked down, as well. Harry turned to face the rest, who backed away slowly.
Harry ignited a pair of fireballs in his palms. There was no rush, as the fighting inside was over, Moody was yelling at Scabior, and the Snatcher answered in a shaking voice. Harry had lost his taste for this fight, seeing how Scabior had been caught and the prisoners freed.
The young man advanced on the Death Eaters once more, his intent clear; he was going to finish this fight right there and then. Harry threw his fireballs at the three Death Eaters, who scrambled out of the way.
Harry noted one of the men fumble with some kind of contraption and felt as the rest of the wards came crashing down, and the men Apparated away. He clicked his tongue, annoyed. Harry idly wondered whether they would return to their master and the suffering they would undoubtedly endure once he learned of their failure.
Shrugging in indifference, Harry made his way to the house and into the doorway. The Snatchers had been placed under full body binds and Moody held onto Scabior and each of the team members held onto a freed prisoner, most of whom were in bad shape. Among them was one Dean Thomas. Harry frowned darkly at seeing one of his friends. Even if they had never been close, Dean was a decent enough bloke.
"Well, this was a success, lad. As you can see, the prisoners are going to need medical attention. We will Apparate them to St. Mungo's and-" Moody stopped talking when Harry put up his hand. He'd heard someone Apparate in. One of the fallen men was enervated and he heard muffled voices outside. He then heard a scream as someone was placed under the Cruciatus and the insane cackle that followed could only belong to one person.
"Get out of here now. Bellatrix is here. You all know what she's capable of. I'll hold her off. And don't come back here, you hear me!?" Right then, a tremor shook the house. The Order members took one glance at one another with uncertainty. None of them wanted to leave the lad alone with that crazy woman. Another tremor.
"Come out, come out, where ever you are," Bellatrix chanted in that annoying, baby like voice, the same she had used that night at the Department of Mysteries. She was not foolish enough to come into the building, so she was trying to bait them out of it. Harry eyed the door, then his team mates.
"GO!" he snarled at them.
They gave him one last look, before Apparating away, taking the freed prisoners to safety. Harry wondered why Bellatrix had come here alone. That was not accepted Death Eater policy. The cowards always attacked in numbers, preferably much greater than that of the opposition so that there was no chance of defeat.
He crawled to a window and saw the green light of the killing curse, as she murdered the three men that had survived the fight and lay on the ground. Harry shuddered. Absolutely bonkers. He got up and walked out of the building.
"Hello, Bellatrix. Having fun?"
Bellatrix turned slowly and smiled at him, her rotten teeth showing. Despite the situation, Harry wondered why the woman had not fixed her teeth, or done something for her hair that lay limply down to her back. Or AK'd herself...
She walked over, her hips swaying enticingly. Harry's eyes involuntarily roamed over her body and he realized, she did have attractive curves, but she was still as thin as before. She really needed to put on some weight, Harry thought. Then he remembered that time he'd been inside Riddle's head, and was promptly pulled back to reality. She winked at him as she noticed his eyes on her body.
"Like what you see, luv? "
Harry snorted. Flirting? Now? Hardly the time for it, to be honest. Then again, Bellatrix revelled in death and destruction, so was it really such a stretch to find this was the kind of thing that got her going? Fine, he could play.
"You're too skinny, Bellatrix. Your sister Narcissa, however... Now, there is a fine woman!"
Bellatrix snarled a curse, which saw Harry dive from the doorway and onto the ground, the debris from the shattered wall raining down on the steps below. He rolled and sent a spear of wind her way, which Bellatrix countered with a wind spell of her own, before sending a Cruciatus his way. Harry raised a small patch of earth to block the curse and sent the resulting rubble at her in return...
Bellatrix watched as her Cruciatus sailed toward her opponent, only to be blocked by a patch of earth rising from the ground, the rubble of which he sent her way with a wave of his arm. She transfigured the rubble to a bunch of feathers, which harmlessly floated in the air.
With incredible speed, she sent several curses his way, a mix of bone shattering, cutting and exploding curses. She watched on as her opponent jumped, rolled and twisted out of the way, only catching a cutting curse to the side of the cheek, which barely fazed him, since he turned with the beam.
How was he performing all of this magic without a wand? Unimportant at the moment. All that mattered was the battle she was engaged in. The way he moved sent shivers down her spine, his movements were graceful and efficient and he was smart and decisive. Not to mention extremely powerful, very closely matched to herself, she thought. Possibly even stronger.
She had wanted to fight him ever since he had managed to free her sister, nephew and that traitor Snape all those months ago and made a complete fool out of her. The resulting punishment had not been pleasant, nor had her 'exile' been any better.
She had gotten lucky before and intercepted the fools that had escaped from the fight earlier and they had told her of him. Then she had stunned them. No one was going to interrupt their battle. She had Apparated immediately, not waiting another moment, lest she miss her chance. Neither her master or husband would be happy with her, but she would not be denied.
She felt the familiar burning sensation of the Mark, compelling her to return to her master, and she could almost feel his rage, but she ignored it. She could, on occasion resist the urge to obey, but it was hard and she felt herself slowly losing the battle, made all the worse by the knowledge that her master would be most displeased. Perhaps he would even send her away again? She felt saddened at the thought, but she needed to finish this.
Bellatrix shot a freezing spell at an incoming fireball which the man fired at her from his right palm, the other flinging a big rock her way, which she levitated to the side, before sending an entrails exploding curse his way, followed by an organ liquifier which he dodged with ease.
She giggled happily, despite her looming punishment. Oh, this was worth almost anything. She had always been gifted at duelling and she was having so much fun! Her opponent was forcing her to give it her all!
The last time she'd had this much fun was when she had fought her cousin at the Ministry. He'd not hated it, either. Unfortunately, he'd been overconfident and she'd killed him, ending their fun far too quickly.
She moved to cast a blood boiling curse at her opponent, but instead wailed in disappointment as the searing pain of her master's call became too much to ignore and she gave her opponent a sorrowful glance, before she Apparated away.
Bellatrix reappeared at Malfoy Manor, a bit breathless. What a wonderful fight it had been! Exhilarating, even. How she desired a rematch! The things she would do to the young man when she defeated him... A moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Oh, yes, she would play with him, and take him as her own, once she had broken him. With an effort, she calmed herself and strode briskly into the manor, steeling herself for the punishment she knew was coming her way. As soon as she entered the 'throne room', she was hit with a Cruciatus and she crashed to the floor and writhed pitifully in all encompassing agony as her master let his displeasure be known.
Half a minute later, an eternity, the curse was lifted. Bellatrix twitched for a while on the floor before she managed to get up on her knees. Her master's pet, Nagini slithered around the room, hissing at everything and nothing, the possibility of a meal exciting the snake. Had she been able, Bellatrix would have shivered. She had always hated that disgusting thing.
"I am sorely disappointed, Bellatrix," her master said in his hissing voice. "Because of your actions, we missed a golden opportunity to capture that annoying little fly that has been frustrating our plans. We could have sent our best, but the chance is lost. What do you have to say for yourself?" Bellatrix pressed her forehead to the floor in total submission.
"Don't bother answering, Bellatrix. There's no excuse for such behaviour. He bested you before and you wanted revenge. Understandable, I suppose, but for you to let you emotions overpower my commands? That, I cannot forgive. Crucio!"
Some time later Bellatrix appeared at a Death Eater safe house in London, still twitching from her master's punishment. He had sent her away, only to return if he called her. He had only done so twice before. The first time, after her failure to procure the prophecy from the Ministry had lasted for weeks. And the second time; after the events at Malfoy manor earlier and her exile had been even longer that time. She could only hope it would not be so long this time.
After all, her sole purpose for living was to serve her master, which she could not do if she was not in his good graces. It made her physically ill to be apart from her master for too long. Sighing she sat down at the dinner table, her chin in her hands and a wistful smile adorned her face. In the end, she deemed the fight worth the punishment. Most fun she'd had in a long time, indeed.
Harry ate his breakfast, thinking of the night of his raid on the Snatchers. According to Moody, no permanent damage had been done to any of the prisoners, for which Harry was grateful. After the fight with Bellatrix, Harry had left, as Aurors had arrived at the scene to take away those that were left behind and Harry had to wonder how long it would be until they joined the fray once more.
Days, weeks? Moody told him they had taken care of Scabior. In what way, Harry did not not know and he had not cared enough to ask. All he knew was that the man was out of the fight and that was good enough for him. After that he had told the grizzled man a bit of his fight with Bellatrix, before bidding Moody a fond farewell and they had gone their separate ways.
Harry cleaned his plate and put it away. He was supposed to meet Eldred Worple today at Hereford Cathedral. If all went well, he'd be meeting with Marcus, the head of the vampire clan soon. He had to stay focused, as it was a very important meeting. He kept asking himself, though, what gave him the right to go out and make deals and negotiate with other beings, for the rest of wizardkind?
Was it right of him to go about as some kind of negotiator? True, he was only asking them not to join Tom Riddle, but he was not foolish enough to think he'd not have to make promises. No one did anything for nothing, after all.
He had already sent Griphook a letter, detailing the changes he wanted to advocate if he found himself in the position to change anything. For some reason, the fight with the Dementors had really got him going on that front. He had spent the week not doing much but meditate and scribble more notes on how he wanted to change things for the better for those who were hard done by in the magic world.
He laughed softly to himself. He had been channelling his inner Hermione these past few days. Her organisation, S.P.E.W, also known as Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare came to mind. While her heart had been in the right place, her methods had been somewhat less than agreeable. Overzealous might be a fitting word for it. Hiding those knitted hats and socks where the house elves would pick them up by accident had not been a good idea.
Harry laughed out loud when he remembered Dobby walking around with a bloody tower of the things on the top of his head. He even gave some of them to poor Winky. On a more serious note, the house elves took pride in their work around Hogwarts and had been offended to the point where they stopped cleaning the Gryffindor dorm, leaving poor Dobby alone to do all the work. And Winky, on the days she was almost sober.
Harry washed his plate and utensils, deep in thought. Poor little Winky... Barty Crouch Sr. had freed her against her will and it had destroyed her. She had turned to drink to try deal with the severe depression of not being employed by the Crouch family any longer. Forced freedom wasn't any kind of freedom and if you didn't embrace it, freedom could be as oppressive as any chain or shackles.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, annoyed. He was bloody nervous and as a result, his thoughts were all over the place. Why was he so nervous? He had not been this nervous when he went for Slytherin's locket, nor had he been, that time when he fought Greyback. He was fairly confident in Mr. Worple's insistence that the clan leader would not come to this meeting looking to renew hostilities. That did not mean it could not go disastrously wrong, however.
Harry entered the cathedral at noon. He had arrived a little earlier and found a bench a ways off from the entrance to the cathedral. He'd kept tabs on comings and goings and so far he had not seen anyone overly suspicious enter the building. Once he saw Mr. Worple enter, he quickly did the same, wanting the meeting over with, so that the man could go about his life in what little peace one could find in these trying times.
As soon as Harry entered the room which held the Mappa Mundi, he could tell something wasn't quite right. Mr. Worple was there, exploring the map, much the same way he had the last time they met. Harry stopped for a moment and looked at the writer with concern. He looked like Mr. Worple, but his movements and overall mannerisms weren't the same.
Also, the man was sweating and he was nervous and he did not smell right, either. It could be the occasion was getting Worple this worked up, but Harry doubted it, since the man had clearly shown he was used to these kinds of meetings.
The Polyjuice potion was a very tricky one to make and it was even harder to identify someone who'd ingested it. They had obviously had the potion ready before Harry had met Mr. Worple the first time, after all, it took a full lunar cycle to make the Polyjuice potion. Someone had tried to lay a trap for him, obviously.
But where was the real Eldred Worple then? Harry's mind was racing with the possibilities, none of which were appealing. He would have to play along for now, in order find Mr. Worple. He approached the older man warily and stopped right next to him by the map. The other man eyed Harry before turning his attention back to the map.
"You're late, 'Jack'"
Harry frowned thoughtfully. If this man knew about his alias, they had definitely gotten to Worple. Harry cursed himself. If he had thought of contacting Eldred Worple, then Tom would have, also. It was the easiest way to locate Marcus, after all. It was too much of a hassle to kidnap a high level Ministry employee, even if Riddle controlled most of the government.
Another question wormed its way into Harry's mind as he contemplated his options. Why hadn't Mr. Worple gone into hiding? Surely, a smart man like him would have realised the danger he was in, given the knowledge he possessed. Realising he'd been quiet too long, Harry answered the impostor.
"Sorry about that, couldn't be helped. Were you successful in arranging a meet with the clan leader, Mr. Worple?"
The man passed him a folded piece of paper. "Yes. He will meet you at this address tonight."
Mr. Worple's duplicate stormed out of the cathedral after that and left Harry alone in the room. Harry walked over to a nearby pew and sat down, unfolding the note as he did. The meet was to take place at a pub in London, after midnight. It made sense, Harry supposed, the other party being vampires and as such sensitive to daylight.
Assuming any vampires would be there at all, he would be at a major disadvantage. He'd more than likely be meeting up with a bunch of Death Eaters, eager to introduce him to their master. Harry folded the note and put it in his pocket as he got to his feet.
He walked down the aisle toward the massive doors. Before he left, he turned and gazed at the man nailed to the cross. He had no choice. If he was going to find Mr. Worple, he would have to go to this supposed meeting, spring the trap and hope for the best. He contemplated calling his friends, but decided against it. He got himself into this mess; he'd get himself out of it.
That evening, Harry found himself on a rooftop, close to the pub wherein the meeting would take place. There were two men outside the house, both of whom were obviously guards. He had not managed to get there ahead of time, so he had no idea of what to expect. Harry steeled himself and walked over to the fire escape and down the the alley on the other side. Before he left the alley, however, he heard footsteps from around the corner, preceded by a weird, dead sort of feeling.
He readied himself. The man who rounded the corner was tall and somewhat imposing, despite the fact that he looked pale and a bit pasty. Harry focused his senses, but could not detect a heartbeat, nor any body heat. A vampire, then. Harry reached for his sword, but the newcomer raised his hands, palms forward.
"Do not be alarmed, young man, I mean you no harm."
"Who are you?"
The other man let his hands fall slowly and beckoned for Harry to follow him a little further into the alley, which Harry did, albeit hesitantly.
"I'm the one you came to see, 'Jack'. I am Marcus. I have no way of proving to you who I am, but I wanted to warn you; that pub over there is full of your enemies, waiting to ambush you as soon as you enter. The man you met earlier today was not my good friend Eldred, but an impostor. They got to him before we had a chance to speak."
Harry stared at the vampire for a moment, a bit shocked. So Mr. Worple had never even managed to meet up with Marcus, assuming this was him. That complicated things.
"How do you recognize my name if you did not meet Mr. Worple? He's the only one I've told the name to so far. Perhaps you are the one who's trying to kill me, while the real Marcus is waiting for me across the street, I've got no way of knowing. Legilimency-"
"-only works on the living," The vampire interrupted. "Don't ask me why, but that's how it is. You are right to be doubtful, of course, but I assure you, I am Marcus. Now, there's a faction within my clan that desperately wants to join Voldemort, to sate their need for bloody carnage. To relive the 'glory days' as they put it. I have a source on the inside, who feeds me information on a regular basis. She told me of you. Am I right to assume you wanted a meeting with me to discuss our stance in the war?"
"Hey, slow down there, Lugosi," Harry said and frowned at the man. "You just bombarded me with a whole host of things I have no way of verifying. How can I be certain you are who you say you are?"
"You can't, so I guess you'll have to trust me, won't you?" the newcomer said with an infuriating grin.
Harry glared at the man for a moment, before turning his attention back to the pub. The man was most likely telling the truth, Harry decided. Besides, if the vampire was allied with the ones waiting for him in the pub, then he would have simply attacked him, or called for aid. There was also the possibility of Worple being held in there, so he was not willing to go back without at least finding out whether or not the writer was in there.
He heard footsteps coming from beyond the same corner Marcus had appeared from, the same dead feeling preceding the newcomer as before. Harry turned and saw a very attractive woman appear in the alley, her hips swaying enticingly. She eyed Harry, then walked right up to Marcus and started whispering in his ear. Harry made a motion with his hand.
"There is no use whispering, I can hear everything she's saying just fine, so please, share with the rest of the class."
"Jack, this is Maria, my inside source. Eldred is in there, alive for now, if slightly worse for wear. There are only two entrances into the pub, one in the front and one in the back. I suggest attacking both at the same time. Maria and I will go in the back, we'll leave the front to you. Sound good?"
"I suppose. I'm a fan of frontal assault anyway. How many are there? Vampires and Death Eaters? Any regular humans?
At that, Maria left Marcus' side and walked slowly over to Harry. She walked around him in a circle, a finger tracing his shoulders and finally, his jaw. She stared up at him, her eyes finding his own. She placed her hand on Harry's chest and bit her lower lip, her fangs showing clearly.
"Who is this lovely, young creature, Marcus? Just looking at him makes a girl's blood run hot."
Harry kept staring at her, defiantly. He was not backing down, that was for certain. He grasped her hand gently and removed it from his chest. Undeterred, the vampire placed her other hand on Harry's cheek and pressed her body into his. Harry opened his mouth to speak, only to find her finger on his lips.
"Hush, my sweet. We will continue this later."
Harry held her gaze for a while longer, before moving away. Maria stepped back, a little breathless, her eyes following Harry as he stepped over to Marcus.
"Sorry about that. Maria has never been one to hide her feelings or desires. She is a fantastic agent, nevertheless. Now, to answer your question..."
Maria came upon the pair, her demeanour completely changed. The woman Harry looked at now was serious and calculating and obviously very deadly. Harry raised an eyebrow when Marcus chuckled soundlessly at his reaction.
"We have five Death Eaters and five vampires, including the guards outside the front door. I was supposed to guard the back door. Eldred is being held on the upper floor. Marcus, one of the Kin is part of Valentin's personal guard."
Harry saw Marcus frown deeply, obviously unsettled by the news. He rubbed his chin absent mindedly.
"That complicates things. Quite a bit, actually. They are some of our best fighters, Jack. Very strong. But we must do this now, lest they kill Eldred and I'd really much rather return him back to his wife and lovely daughter Lisa in one piece. This will be a hard fight, but Maria and I are certainly not wet behind the ears when it comes to battle. I dislike the idea of revealing Maria's identity to them, but she must help us. How about you, young man? Ever faced a vampire before?"
Harry removed his coat and threw it onto a nearby trash can, before unsheathing his blade. He twirled it in his hand, before leaning it against his shoulder.
"I haven't, but I am strong, fast and agile, and I learn quickly. This is a goblin made silverite sword, it should get the job done," Harry said, before going on a bit sheepishly. "Sorry about the showboating..."
Marcus eyed the young man warily. This was an exquisite weapon fit for kings. Clearly very old, yet it was in perfect condition, the fighter in front of him obviously took great care of it. How he got his hands on a silverite weapon was a question he would very much like to get an answer to.
Silverite was extremely rare and easily the deadliest substance known to vampires, werewolves and to a great number of other magical beasts and beings. But that was for later, now they had to hurry. He signalled Maria, who set out in the other direction.
"One more thing, Jack. I have no desire to kill any humans, so we will not do so if we can help it. But do not give quarter to any vampire. They are traitors to our clan and make no mistake, they will kill as many humans as possible if Valentin is not stopped, so strike ruthlessly and kill whenever you're faced with one of my kin during this battle. Or any battle for that matter. These individuals are not thinking of what is best for our kind and must be exterminated."
Harry nodded and watched the vampire follow his comrade. He sheathed his sword and quit the alley and slowly made his way across the street. Once he was at a good distance, he formed a small fireball in his left hand and threw it at the pair of Death Eaters guarding the front entrance, causing them to dive out of the way.
At the same time, Harry´s right hand curled in a fist and a pocket of air he had formed behind the front door exploded outward crushing the door and collapsing a part of the wall, affording Harry a clear look at the bar. A flick of Harry's hand saw a pair of stones hit the two wizards in their heads, rendering them unconscious.
Three more Death Eaters.
Harry dashed toward the gap in the wall, drawing his sword as he went. He vaulted over the gap and kicked a wobbling vampire in the temple, stunning the creature, before he thrust his sword through the monster's heart. One down. four to go. He heard a gurgle by the back door and saw Maria strike one of her kin through the chest with nothing but her bare hand.
Three vampires left. Vowing to not ever get on Maria's bad side, Harry ducked a pink beam coming his way and sent a spear of air towards the enemy wizard, who was sent flying into a nearby wall.
Two more.
Turning, Harry avoided a strike by a vampire, who retreated quickly as Harry brought up his sword in a defensive stance. He was dimly aware of Marcus engaging a pair of Valentin's thugs, gracefully avoiding their attacks and even managing to strike down a Death Eater at the same time. Harry turned all of his attention onto the vampire in front of him, who'd produced a long knife from somewhere.
A pair of screams let Harry know that Marcus had dealt with his foes, which left one wizard and the single vampire he was facing. Harry rushed forward, his sword swinging low, which the fiend avoided easily. Harry dodged a stab of a knife and jumped back slightly. Suddenly, Maria cut in front of him and Marcus took a position behind his enemy.
"Marcus and I will take care of this one, he's much too skilled for you. Go and free Eldred."
"I had this under-"
Maria silenced him with a cold, hard look, the seductress far, far away. This woman was a stone cold killer, Harry realized then, so he wisely held his tongue. "He's toying with you, Jack. Just do as I ask, please. You'll live longer."
Maria was surprised when Harry sighed and handed her his sword, clearly not willing to let her fight unarmed. He gave her a look that seemed to say 'I'm trusting you with my weapon, take care of it'. Accepting the offered weapon gladly, albeit with a slight wince, she gave him a short nod, before turning to face her enemy as Harry ran for the stairs in long strides.
He really was interesting, she thought as she gripped the sword tightly and advanced on the vampire in front of her. She decided she was going to get to know the boy better, more intimately. Much more intimately. Marcus warily approaching from the back, armed with a pool cue...
"BOMBARDA!"
Harry dived through an open doorway to his left as the blasting curse flew his way when he crested the top of the stairs. It had probably not been the greatest idea to run all the way up the stairs. Harry peered out into the hallway and saw the single remaining Death Eater standing at the end of the hallway, with a very distraught Eldred Worple in a choke hold, his wand pointed to his captive's temple. Harry slowly quit the room, his hands in the air.
"I'm unarmed. Let the writer go and you'll get out of here alive. All of your Death Eater friends are down and don't think we won't do the same to you if you harm Mr. Worple. It'll be easy, seeing you're much too worked up to Apparate. Just give up and this will be quick and painless."
"Stand back! I'll kill him, you'll see! Nothing you can do will be worse than what the Dark Lord will do to me once he finds we have failed."
Harry narrowed his eyes. It never stopped bothering him how scared of Riddle his own followers were. How the man ever got any recruits made no sense. Surely people talked among themselves, there had to be at least rumours. Was the promise of power and wealth really worth it? Perhaps they were just stupid.
For instance, why had this idiot not Apparated away when he heard the noise downstairs? Harry snapped his fingers and the ashtray he had been floating behind the Death Eater smacked him in the head with a loud thud. The man slid to the floor, leaving Eldred standing, trembling slightly. Harry made his way over to the journalist.
"You all right, Mr. Worple? Marcus is downstairs, taking care of things. They didn't hurt you did they?"
"No, not to badly. I'm sorry I ratted you out. They threatened to kill my wife and daughter, Jack. They are all I have, I cannot imagine losing either of them."
Harry lifted a hand and scratched the back of his head. "The fault lies with me, Eldred. I should never have put you in this position in the first place. For what it's worth, I am sorry."
Eldred looked up at Harry and shook his head slightly, his eyes weary. He approached the fallen Death Eater and rummaged around in his robes until he found his confiscated wand. He returned to Harry's side and motioned for him to head down the stairs.
"It's not your fault. They would have come for me anyway, Jack. I'm smart enough to know that. I always wanted my family to have as normal a life as possible and foolishly did not take into account what might happen once I learned You-Know-Who had returned."
The pair reached the bottom of the stairs and into the common room. Harry only heard the voices of Marcus and Maria, so he assumed the last vampire was dead. His allies turned around as Harry and Eldred approached and Marcus rushed over to embrace his friend fondly.
"Eldred! It's good to see you, old chap, though I wish it had been under better circumstances."
"Likewise, Marcus. Hello, Maria. You're looking especially deadly this evening. Tell me, Marcus, has she already tried to seduce my young friend here, or has she finally learned some manners?"
The vampire leader shook his head slightly, a twinkle in his eye, which resulted in a rueful snort from the beleaguered Eldred. The writer watched with some humour as the vampire vixen smiled at him, then shifted her gaze on to Jack and stared at the young man as if she would devour him on the spot.
To his credit, Jack stared right back, although he was frowning darkly at Maria, who let her tongue slide sensually along her upper lip, before flashing him a mischievous smile that bared her fangs. She was enjoying this entirely too much. Eldred reckoned it must have something to do with the defiance in Jack's eyes. Maria usually got any man she wanted, vampire or otherwise. Eventually, however, the young man looked toward the east, with a tired stare.
"Sirens in the distance, the Muggles are on their way. I suggest we leave before the Aurors get here. Or anyone else."Again, somewhat surprised at the young man's prodigious hearing, Marcus nodded his agreement.
"Go home, Eldred. Jackson is standing watch outside your home. Be well my friend. Jack, please meet Maria and me on the Tower bridge tomorrow evening at ten, there are some things we must discuss."
With that, Eldred Worple placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, before Apparating away. The two vampires were already out the door and Harry ran across the street and grabbed his coat. It was only then that Harry realized Maria still had his sword. Well, wasn't that just perfect... Just as Harry Apparated away, he heard faint popping noises as the Order started to Apparate in.
Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks arrived on the scene with a rather large contingent of Order members, all current or former Aurors loyal to Shack, and Amelia before him. They was also accompanied by trainees Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. At Moody's insistence They were being put through Auror training, even if neither of them actually were a part of the Auror program.
Tonks immediately got to work on setting the perimeter and set two former Aurors to put up some notice-me-not charms around, so they could work in peace. Kingsley, however, along with the recent Hogwarts graduates, made his way into the pub, his eyes lingering on the massive hole in the wall, as well as the two Death Eaters on the sidewalk, who were just coming to. Ron stunned them, before following his girlfriend and Kingsley inside.
There were two more Death Eaters inside, who were rounded up quickly by a pair of Aurors, who Apparated away presently. Kingsley surveyed the room silently, making notes in his head as he did. Five vampires dead, killed with a long blade, quick and clean, except one.
He found it very interesting that every Death Eater so far barely had a mark on them, when it seemed the vampires had been killed without mercy. He ran a hand down his face as an Auror floated another Death Eater down the stairs.
"The top floor is secure, Shack. I found this."
His subordinate handed him a wallet, before Apparating away with his captive. Kingsley opened the wallet and to his surprise, found Eldred Worple looking back at him from his journalist ID. Now, what had the man been doing here, of all places, and in this company? He'd probably been held here against his will, most likely due to his knowledge of his fanged friends, it was rather obvious.
He was friends with the clan head as well, and from what Kingsley knew of Marcus, he was most definitely not a Voldemort supporter. So, a schism within the vampire community? Very likely. Pocketing the wallet, he heard Ron clear his throat. He turned to see Ron come from the back room, making his way over to him, while looking at Hermione, who was busy examining the closest vampire body.
"I reckon there were at least three attackers, Shack. One attacked the front, creating a diversion, while at least two more came in from the back, catching their enemies by surprise."
"An astute observation, Ron. I concur. What have you found, Hermione?
"Well, there is the same strange magical aura in the air here, as I found in the warehouse Greyback was killed. There are traces of meteoritic silverite in the wounds of these vampires. I found the same in the wounds of the werewolves that morning, Kingsley. This was, without a doubt the same individual."
Kingsley nodded at her. She was an incredible asset to the Order and her boyfriend wasn't bad, either. Ron's strategic mind was always working, always finding ways to use each and every location to its greatest effect. He was rather insecure, however and had an alarming tendency to ignore other people's opinions and suggestions. His temper could be a problem, as well, not to mention the occasional bout of jealousy, which Kingsley simply could not understand.
Now, Hermione was an absolute star. Her knowledge of magic and how it worked was invaluable and it grew day by day. Her attention to detail was incredible, but unlike Ron, she made certain to include others. This was a trait she had picked up from Harry Potter, who was a natural leader. At least that was what Kingsley had found when asking about the boy.
Hermione only had two obvious flaws; going by the book a bit too much, Kingsley thought. She had demanded to be placed in the field and out here, you had to be able to improvise. Secondly, she was prone to blind obedience to people in authority. Moving on from his observations, Kingsley motioned for the two of them to follow him outside before the three of them plus Tonks Apparated to London once more, to brief Moody on the situation, before leaving the active Aurors behind to work the scene.
The following night, Harry made his way onto the Tower bridge and found the vampire pair waiting for him by the railing, looking over the river Thames. Harry stepped up to them, sharing in the view, listening to the world as they stood there in silence for a few minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a subdued Maria produce a wrapped up bundle, which she held out to him.
"Your sword, Jack. It really is a marvellous weapon, I was honoured to wield it. Though, I could not bear to touch it for more than a few moments. If I may ask, have you fought with it many times?"
Harry looked at the vampire, her subdued manner a surprise. He looked over at Marcus, who had turned around and leaned against the railing, watching the pair with interest. Harry decided to answer the question, it seemed innocent enough.
"Not too often, fortunately. I dislike violence and try to avoid it if possible."
Maria looked at him, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Another layer revealed itself. Not only did he resist her more than ample charms with ease, he had layers upon layers to his person. He did not like violence, but fought brilliantly, although he obviously lacked experience. She arched an eyebrow.
"This coming from the man who killed Greyback and his fellows, likely with this very weapon."
"He didn't give me a choice, Maria. Besides, the world is a better place without him in it. Killing that thing gave me no pleasure and I even tried to resolve it peacefully, even though I knew it was next to impossible. I can't go around killing everyone who stands in my way, I'd be no better than Riddle if I did. And before either of you ask, no I am not going to tell you where I got the sword."
As soon as Harry stopped talking, Maria shed the act and literally threw herself at him, hands going around his neck. Harry backed away, bumping into the railing. Maria stared up at him, her eyes smouldering with heat.
"You're the most interesting man I've met in decades, Jack. Will you not come away with me for the night? I do so desire to get to know you better..."
Harry looked at Maria with a frown. She was incredibly attractive, he would not deny it. She also seemed completely crazy. They had met two times and she was throwing herself at him like that? She was growing antsy, her face hot and her breathing heavy and slightly ragged. As Harry grabbed her upper arms to gently push her away, he could not help but wonder how a being with no heartbeat could get hot and bothered. It made no sense.
In order to get a little payback, he decided to play with her a little bit and leaned in close. Maria opened her mouth slightly and tilted her head, her eyes heavy lidded and glistening, eagerly anticipating the kiss that was surely coming. Before Harry's lips met hers, however, he angled his head a little and whispered to her, his breath hot in her ear.
"I belong to another, Maria and I will never betray her like this. I have nothing but respect for you and your abilities, but that may change if you keep acting this way. Please stop."
Maria felt his hot breath on her ear and shivered with desire as Harry gently pushed her away from him. She backed away slowly and stared at the young man, her eyes showing intense arousal. He'd rebuffed her that easily? Such strong character had to be respected.
She wanted him even more now, she realized. She was careful not to let it show on her face, but her pride was severely wounded. She opted for a sexy grin and twirled a lock of her raven hair around her finger. She would have to have the last word. She always did, after all. She turned to leave, but looked over her shoulder to stare him in the eyes.
"She's lucky, whoever she is."
And with that, she walked slowly along the bridge, her hips swaying a little more than was normal. Harry and Marcus watched her walk away. Marcus had a very peculiar look on his face. He turned to Harry and grinned, clearly amused. Harry, however was wondering if he had lied to Maria, if he actually belonged to anyone any more, besides himself.
"You may have dodged a hex there, lad, but you just stoked her fire that much more. She may not come after you tomorrow or even a year from now, but she will approach you again, make no mistake. With much more fervour, so I suggest you watch yourself."
Harry frowned. "What's with her anyway? This reaction is completely daft."
"Haven't the foggiest, my boy. I've known her for a long, long time and she's always been this way, although this is the strongest reaction I've ever seen from her, I must admit. I'm certain it has something to do with you not being completely human. Oh and you refused her, something that has not happened in a very long time."
"Now, the night is young," Marcus continued, "and I have much to do yet before the sunrise and we have some things to discuss. Mainly, I want to know on whose authority you have approached me. I know you do not come from the Ministry, there are proper channels to go through with any serious discussion between our peoples, Jack. And I have steadfastly refused to speak with both the Order of the Phoenix as well as Voldemort, so why should I speak with you? What do you have to offer?"
Harry looked over the river flowing gently below them. He had known Marcus would ask these questions and the vampire leader was right to do so. He had also known he would have to reveal his true identity to the vampire leader, because what he was about to ask of Marcus required trust.
Harry could hardly ask Marcus to blindly trust him in such important issues concerning their whole race without him knowing who he was talking with. Harry took a deep breath and pulled his cap from his head to reveal the scar on his forehead. Marcus stared at him, shock clear on face.
"Harry Potter? I was under the impression you were a normal wizard, not... not whatever you've become. I was also under the impression you were thought dead. After all, you have been missing for quite a while."
Harry grinned at the man. "I changed myself, Marcus. I am not willing to go into any detail in regards to my transformation, but rest assured that I am fine and sane of mind. As you know, I've been fighting Riddle for a while now and what's more, we are fated to fight, him and I."
"Is that so?" Marcus asked with a surprised look on his face. "I had heard the rumours, but..."
Harry nodded. "According to prophecy, one must kill the other eventually, and I'd rather be the one who's left standing. Killing that bastard is only half the battle, however. If nothing in the magical world changes once this war is over, then it has all been for naught. You understand the underlying reason why this conflict is as dangerous as it is, yes? And why Riddle's gathered so many followers?
"Naturally."
"Of course you do. We need to change our whole society and we must start with the pureblood nonsense, but it also must include changing the way wizards treat other magical beings. The oppressed always rise up against their oppressors. The only question is how violent it will be. We are at a turning point in our history and we must make the right choices for future generations and learn from our mistakes. I realize you've heard all of this before, but the fact that we will have to largely rebuild our government and society once this conflict is over gives us an opportunity we must not miss."
Marcus nodded. "And I suppose the person who defeats The Dark Lord will have enough influence to do that? Perhaps. I had already decided to not support Voldemort, should he come knocking, so you do not need to worry about that. I am more than willing, however, to be a part of this dialogue you are proposing. Who else have you talked to?"
"I've only approached the goblins thus far, to initiate a dialogue. I am currently juggling a few projects, one of which must be my foremost priority. I'm sorry, but I cannot go into it, as absolute secrecy is vital to its success. I am here mainly to inquire whether or not you're joining Riddle, but it is clear you are not. But I am also here to start laying the foundation to what comes after."
Marcus watched as Harry put the cap back on his head, his brilliant green eyes looking into his own grey ones, as if the was trying to look into his very soul. This was a remarkable young man, it had to be said. The vampire leader was in no doubt Potter would keep his word and work toward peace and equality within the wizarding world, he could feel the passion radiating from him. The older man smiled and reached a hand to Harry, which the youth grabbed tightly.
"You have an ally in me, Harry Potter. I am not willing to commit my kin to this war, but Maria and I will always stand ready to assist you. We will, however be busy with purging the traitors from our family for the foreseeable future. I may also require your assistance on occasion. Should I need to speak with you, I will find you. I would like to ask you a question if I may?"
Harry nodded as he let go of Marcus' hand.
"Why are you out here by yourself? Surely a man of your standing has friends willing to help? Judging by the way you look and the weariness in your step, you could use a helping hand."
Harry stayed silent for a while, pondering the question and how much to tell Marcus. In the end, he elected to tell him the simple truth. "Too many people have died to protect me so far in my life, Marcus. My parents, Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore... Honestly, I'm sick of it, I can't take it any more. To always rely upon others to protect me, when I should be the one protecting myself and my friends."
"As I thought. You have a noble spirit, Mr. Potter and I admire you for it. Don't lose yourself, however, the darkness can swallow the careless. Well, I must be going. It was good to have this talk, Mr. Potter and please, rest assured, I will guard your secret carefully."
Marcus turned away, but had only taken a few steps when he turned around to look at Harry with a curious expression.
"What?" Harry asked, confused.
"It just occurred to me that I was a young man once, and that young men tend not to think too far ahead. Might I suggest a trip to Gringotts soon to put your affairs in order, just to be on the safe side?"
With that, Marcus put his hands in his pockets and walked over to Maria, who was waiting patiently a ways away. She looked over at Harry and blew him a kiss, before leaving. Harry headed in the other direction, deep in thought.
The following week, Harry walked Diagon Alley at a leisurely pace and soon found himself at Griphook's house. He knocked on the door and had to wait a while before the goblin answered the door. He stepped back and let Harry inside. As before, the pair headed for the living room and Griphook made tea.
"What brings you to my door, Mr. Potter. I was under the impression that you and I were not going to be seeing much of each other until this was all over."
Harry took a sip of his tea. "Well, this has nothing to do with the war, or our agreement. It is of a more personal nature. I need to make a will, Griphook. This quest of mine is very dangerous as you know and with the combined assets of Houses Potter and Black, I am a very wealthy man. I need to make sure this wealth goes to where it will do the most good, should something happen. And of course determine who my heirs will be and who will take the house seats on the Wizengamot." Harry shuddered at that last bit.
Griphook nodded in understanding. "Ah. I understand perfectly, Mr. Potter. You should indeed go to Gringotts as soon as possible and have the bank validate the will, if you've made one. They can also help you make a will via Pensieve, which most people elect to do as it is much more personal."
Griphook peered at Harry over the rims of his glasses, before he put down his cup and cleared hos throat. "Mr. Potter, I have a pair of nephews who have been working at Gringotts for some time and I would view it as a personal favour if you would be willing to have them oversee the making and officiating of the will and take over as account managers for Houses Black and Potter. It will increase their reputation."
Harry shrugged. "Sure, I don't mind. But is it safe for me to go to Gringotts? I don't want my identity revealed."
Griphook gave him a stern look. "Mr. Potter, we goblins take pride in our work at Gringotts and one of the very foundations of that bank is the very strict client confidentiality policy. Rest assured Mr. Potter, your secrets are safe with us and I personally vouch for my nephews. Now, I will meet you at a hidden entrance located on the side of the building at nine tomorrow morning, an hour before opening."
Harry nodded at the goblin, grateful for the assistance. He reached into a pocket in his coat and produced a roll of parchment. He presented it to Griphook, who took it from his hands with a raised eyebrow.
"I must get going, Griphook, but I have something for you. These are some further ideas I have in mind for after the war. I would like you to look over them and present them to your people if you are satisfied with what I've written down."
"I will, Mr. Potter."
In the morning, Griphook led Harry through the halls of Gringotts until they found themselves in a conference room of sorts. It had a large table in the middle, surrounded by comfortable chairs and on the table rested a Pensieve, empty, by the looks of things. Attached to the bowl, was some kind of microphone. Griphhok excused himself and left the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts.
He was pretty certain how he was supposed to use the Pensieve. He stared at it for a moment, before a small cough brought him back. He turned around and found himself looking at two of the shortest goblins he had ever seen. They were also identical twins. They stood before him, grinning in a way that had Harry wondering if there was a reason why their uncle had to ask for things on their behalf.
"I am goblin Guybrush, at you service," one said.
"And I am goblin Threepwood, also at your service," the other followed.
Yep, Harry was completely certain these twins were troublemakers and complete failures as goblins. For instance, they seemed sociable and jovial, whereas goblins were supposed to be surly and unapproachable. No wonder they were at the bottom of the totem pole. Oh, well, if Griphook vouched for them...
"Yes, thank you. I need to establish a will. I was hoping the pair of you could help me."
So, chapter seven done. I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading!
A bit of a rant here;
I understand and wholeheartedly agree with and support the F.A's decision to postpone league play in Britain, as people's health and safety is paramount, but man, do I hope they won't decide to void the Premier League season. We lost the title to Manchester City by one point last season, and now that we're running away with it, a bloody virus hits the planet... We're twenty five point clear at the top... For fuck sake...
Anyway, stay safe, stay healthy, and wash those hands. Good luck everyone.
