Ok I know, I know - it's May, a lot later than April when I'd said I'd post. But in my defence, I've recently taken up two new jobs which is giving me a lot less me time. I'm trying to work on getting more work done in my free time, but honestly i'm quite a lazy individual to begin with. Like I said, working on it. I also apologise for anyone who just read whatever gobbledegook justy published on here a few minutes ago. For those who didn't see...don't ask.
Just, remember to favourite, follow, leave a review and look me up on my other shit - under Harvey John, and on TikTok under HarveyJohnWriter (I promise i'll try to be more active on all accounts). otherwise for now, enjoy your reading!
24 hours before Harry Potter woke up in Greengrass Manor...also five days before the Release of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Movie...
When Vivennia had seen Alexander leave that morning, she couldn't have imagined the events that had begun to transpire across the country. The return of the Dark Lord was as unfathomable to her as the depths of the ocean were to a hawk. Had she known that day that He was to return, she would show no shame in seeking her husband and daughters to run and never look back.
But she could not fathom, and so she did not run. Though she did nearly jump out of her skin when Alexander apparated into their front lawn with a young boy in his arms – a very distinguishable young boy indeed.
"Merlin's Beard!" She gasped as Alexander quickly rushed through the mansion through to one of the downstairs guestrooms.
She quickly followed him, half certain she had to be imaging things. For surely, she was not seeing Harry Potter in her husbands arms? That was certainly a most ridiculous notion! The boy was not known to them, and even if he were he should be in school competing in that barbaric tournament.
As she finally did catch up with him, laying the boy down not so gently, she saw her eyes did not deceive her. "Alexander, why is Harry Potter in our home?!"
She turned to look at him, fury beginning to burn in her as hot as the suns core, when she saw the look on his face – terror. Something had happened, something truly terrible. She knew her husband well enough to know this.
"Alexander, what's going on?"
"He's back." He rasped out and left the room with haste.
It took her far less time to catch his meaning, even less so to catch up with him in the parlour pouring himself a glass of whisky – in a pint glass! She could only stare at him, eyes wide in shock and disbelief as her husband proceeded to down the entire pint without so much as a wince.
When the last drop had made its way down his gullet, he collapsed into a nearby armchair and sighed. "I needed that."
"He's back? You-Know-Who?"
He turned to look at Vivennia and looked for the words, words of truth that would also be comfort, but found none and simple nodded. A moment later she two was filled with liquor from an obscenely large glass.
"How?" She asked.
"I do not know." He replied. "Though I've always had some...inking that he never truly died. I never thought he would return to power, not so quickly or so suddenly. Without warning."
"And... the boy?" She asked hesitantly.
Alexander shrugged. "Some sort of ritual of...revitalisation. The boys blood brought the Dark Lord back to full physical form. It was his intent to kill him." Alexander said shakily, then smiled. "Luckily, he appeared to have at least one friend there to help him. I believe it was another of the champions, the other from Hogwarts- "
"Cedric Diggory?" She enquired.
"I believe so, unless I was mistaken." He shook his head. "The duel was...short. The Dark Lord has years of duelling, it was lucky they survived as long as they did. They tried to escape, when...HE struck a blow. I thought it a killing one. It appears The Boy Who Lived survived." He joked though did not laugh.
"Dear Heavens." She could feel herself turning pale, just imagining a duel with You-Know-Who made her feel ill to the stomach. "At least both boys survived. That'll be good news."
Alexander did not answer her. He only looked onward, his mind looking back to the moment when Cedric vanished. It had been hours since that moment now. What had the boy told? What words had been spoken? He knew of Crouch Jr's arrival, and what little the madman had said afterwards was not much of what was occurring at Hogwarts.
Though Alexander could imagine.
"I should contact Dumbledore." He said. "Tomorrow. Once the boys rested. The girls will be coming home soon as well."
"Yes, two days from now." Vivennia smiled, glad to have good thoughts warming her heart. "They'll certainly be surprised to find Harry Potter in our manor."
"I imagine Dumbledore will have retrieved him by then."
Vivennia scoffed. "The man barely does much of anything these days. He barely runs a school for nearly half a year, I doubt he'll come for Potter within the week."
"Dumbledore is a busy man." Alexander sighed. "He has more on his mind than most. Not a good thing," He told his wife, "especially when he's lived an age already."
Standing up the head of House Greengrass announced his retirement to the bedchamber and his wife shortly joined him. Though neither slept for long they slept long enough that they missed the morning owl bringing in the Prophet. They would not miss the headline, though they would regret not contacting the headmaster that very night.
Perhaps then this would not be that mornings headline – HARRY POTTER DEAD? TRI-WIZARD TOURNAMENT PERMENANTLY DISSOLVED
Sub- heading – HUFFLEPUFF CHAMPION SUFFERING MENTAL BREAKDOWN AFTER TOURNAMENT, CLAIMS DARK LORD RESSURECTED!
Harry Potter wouldn't wake up until that evening, he rested comfortable on the softest ped with the fluffiest pillows he'd ever rested upon. He had no idea he was being hosted, involuntarily, by two former Slytherins nor that he was rumoured to be dead.
It was Alexander who discovered this first in the household. Tired of dropping in and out of nightmares he decided to go and do some light workouts. At his age, keeping in shape was very important. As a Lord and a man of stature he was expected to appear a certain way – youthful and fit even in his late forties.
Men like the Malfoys did this by eating little and enchanting a lot. Not a Greengrass' way – not anymore. A short run of five miles every other day kept him in good shape. A few push ups and pull ups here and there help to. There were also extensive workouts with the wand, not a euphemism, to keep up his skill and have his mind remain as sharp as a blade.
His little run took him outside the manor down a short muggle road though he saw no muggles that morning. He was in the countryside and so when he did venture out it was not to many passing cars and people but the occasional one. That suited him fine, he preferred the peace and quiet.
When Alexander saw the Prophet that morning, he was a little surprised. He'd expected something, naturally. But not this. Cedric Diggory insane? Perhaps his story, yes, but the boy would be telling the truth. Veritaserum would prove that well enough. No, he'd expected uproar and fear and the Prophet to be encouraging such emotions.
Total denial then, he realised. Someone was covering it up. But whom? The Minister? Or one of those on the Wizengamot perhaps. Denial was certaintly easier than believing the truth. Humans, magical and otherwise, seemed to have a gift for lying to themselves and believing it.
"Dumbledore." He muttered, thinking on how he should contact the headmaster. He needed to know Harry Potter was alive. He couldn't inform the ministry of course, nor any of the aurors. It didn't require much thinking to assume that if Moody had been replaced then so could have others been as well. Or maybe there were Death Eaters already occupying the entire policing force.
Instinctively, as his brain felt like it was beginning to swell with all these thoughts, his hands reached back to the glass and bottle though he pulled away before he did something incredibly stupid. The last thing he needed was to be in any way intoxicated. He needed a clear mind. And he needed to contact Dumbledore – not just for the boy but for Alexander's own family.
Harry Potter couldn't very well stay under his roof forever. Should someone discover him, someone with Dark Mark, then the Greengrass family would be swiftly killed - if they were lucky. Insanity by torture was also possible. His girl, his wife, they could suffer worse even for they were those that tortured in more barbaric ways that even those with names of Malfoy and Lestrange deem vile.
That he would not let happen. No, he would wait until tomorrow morning the day after term ended and go speak to the Headmaster personally. His guise would be the intention of pulling his daughters from the school due to a lack of belief in their continued safety. Not entirely untrue but should anyone ask he'd simply say that Dumbledore managed to convince him of the importance of educating his daughters at Hogwarts.
Malfoy would buy it well enough. If he'd have thought that Hogwarts didn't sell well to future employers better than most magical schools, he doubted Draco would be attending. And it wasn't even that Hogwarts was that good a school, but like many ancient houses of education, such as those as Oxford and Cambridge of the muggle world, names can be very powerful things and provide more than the finest qualifications.
That he would do tomorrow. For the moment he would enjoy the peace and quiet and wait patiently for his wifes awakening – as well as young Mr Potters...
And so there they were, several hours later and no less frightened for his family's future than before. The boy to looked frightened, alert even. Like a wild animal backed into a corner he was ready to spring. Alexander held up his hands in a gesture that conveyed a lack of ill intent. Not that the boy believed it by the suspicious look of his eyes.
"Mr Potter, I assure you I mean you no harm."
"Where am I?" He asked.
"Greengrass Manor." He repeated.
This didn't seem to help in way calm Harry, as he continued to look around suspiciously as if he expected Voldemort to pop out from behind any corner. "Why am I here? How did I get here?"
"You were injured at the Graveyard- "
"The graveyard?" He asked, then realisation seemed to dawn on him and he muttered, "Cedric, Wormtail...Voldemort!"
He did not know who 'Wormtail' was, perhaps Peter Petergrew, but the mention of the Dark Lords name sent shivers down his spin which he did the best to hide. "Yes, you fought...You-Know-Who. Congratulations."
"For what?"
"Why you live to tell the tale – twice I might add. Not many can claim the same. Most who fight him end up dead."
Potter acknowledged this by seeming to look almost sad. Alexander wasn't sure why, but a small smile played on the boys face as he touched his chest and his eyes really did glisten with the ghosts of his past. Coming back once more, and harbouring a look of greater suspicion, he said, "That still doesn't explain why I'm here."
"Well, you see- "
"Greengrass!" The boy exclaimed, looking at Alexander with wide eyes and he shakily rose from the bed. "Voldemort said your name, Greengrass. You were there, you were one of the Death Eaters."
Indeed, he had, he'd ripped the mask from his face. It hadn't hurt though, it had felt good to be, if only momentarily, disowned by his former leader. It was in these moments, these rare moments when the words 'Death Eater' were spoken with accusatory tones filled with hateful venom that Alexander wished for the day he could step bodly into the light.
Now here he was with the boy here, the one he wished to help, and in that boys' eyes he did not seem anything but fear and hatred. And that made him feel despair that he might never see the day he could be his true self for the whole world to see.
"Mr Potter please return to the bed, you are not recovered." He told him, reaching out only for the boy to withdraw further.
"What is this? A trick? A trap? A prison?!"
"None of the above I assure you."
"Then why am I here?!" He bellowed.
Alexander wanted to yell, wanted to scream, shout the truth until the boy believed him. But instead, he gave a sad smile and, at near whisper volume, replied, "Because Voldemort believes you dead, and I knew you were alive. And I couldn't leave you there in that cemetery, if I had he might have killed you."
"'He'? 'He' who?"
"Crouch." Alexander growled taking a seat on the bed while the boy stood over him. He did not back away this time but his eyes remained distrustful – yet there was a glimmer of something there, trust forming as he seemed sense the truth in Alexander's words.
"Crouch? Barty Crouch?"
"Barty Crouch Jr." He clarified. "The son of the late Head of Law Enforcement, he was sentenced to Azkaban some years ago-"
"I know." He said, surprising Alexander. "Dumbledore showed me his memory of the arrest...sort of."
Alexander nodded. "Well, it appears he has not been locked away as many originally thought. Instead, he's been assuming the role of your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Harry took this all in, nodding along as it was explained to him, only offering a slight look of surprise at that last piece of information. Though it appeared the boy had some questions he motioned for Alexander to continue.
"When you were...incapacitated," he resumed, lacking a better word for what he was not certain was unconcious but not dead either, "he came to the cemetery and revealed himself. I told him you were dead. A lie, obviously, but one that convinced him to leave you be. Allowed me to move you to here, my home."
"So, you saved me. Why?"
"Because long ago I learnt what happens when evil is left lose on the world. I told Dumbledore then as I'll tell you now, I will not be part to that madness. Never again."
The silence that followed was one of tense consideration on the part of the Potter boy. Alexander could see in his eyes that the young Gryffindor wanted to believe him, though healthy suspicion kept his guard up. Alexander wasn't worried about the boys judgement, he'd do the right thing whether he was believed or not.
Though he would very much prefer it if he did not have to leave the room with Harry Potter once more rendered unconscious. The way the boys eyes searched the room for escape, and how they lingered on his wand told him he was still ready to spring for freedom.
Alexander wished there was a means by which he could prove his loyalty to Dumbledore and to the light easily. But he would not swear any oaths nor undergo any enchantments – they were ways to subvert the truth by such means. If he was to be believed it was to be on his word and his word alone.
After a few, long, moments Harry eventually seemed to decide for the moment to take Alexander on his word – or at the very least not run for the (literal) hills. He took a seat on the bed, though kept a good distance from his host. Searching for words that might ease the tension, Harry found them in the simplest form.
"Thank you, for not killing me when you had the chance." He said, then let out a short nervous laugh. "Mr Greengrass, I really hope you're not planning on killing me. I could really use friends now that Vol...now that he's back."
"Oh I doubt you'll have a shortness of friends Mr Potter, if only you know where to go looking for them." He said, giving the boy a short smile. "You do look an awfully lot like him you know? James Potter."
"You knew my father then."
Alexander shrugged. "Not closely. From what I recall he was a good man. A terrible student," He snorted and Harry chuckled, "but I think most of us as young boys are."
"Most people compare me to my mother." Harry told him.
Alexander grimaced. "Yes well, I wasn't my best self in my school years. I never knew your mother, only that she was a muggle. At the time I thought that...well, I no longer have the same values I once did." He stated this proudly. "I grew up, and I learned to be better."
"I hope that's true."
"I promise I'll show you it is." He assured Harry who only nodded in response.
The silence that followed that was not at all uncomfortable, but it was not peaceful either. Alexander could almost feel the turmoil raging inside the Hogwarts champion. He wanted to believe his host a good man, but it was not the first time in his life he'd been deceived and such he had to play cautious.
He would allow Harry to feel this way, and not be too pushy. Only seek to prove he was indeed a good man now. And at the very least he could offer some warm hospitality to the boy. It was becoming later into the evening after all, and who knew when he'd last eaten.
"My wife and I, we're having supper in an hours' time. Nothing lavish, but it'll be warm and delicious. Perhaps you might join us? Get back some strength?"
Harry thought about this for a moment before giving a curt nod of agreement. Alexander took this as his cue to leave. Not one to overstay his welcome he left the room with the door ajar, giving privacy but assuring that, should he wish, he was free to leave.
The moment the door was far enough behind him and he tucked his own wand into his pocket he realised something, something foolish that he'd done. He cursed himself for making such a silly mistake. Luckily for him he still had some time.
Wasting not a moment he left the manor and walked off the castle grounds. No need to tell his wife, what she didn't know would not hurt her. Once he was clear of the wards, he apparated himself and felt a shiver travel down his spine as he once again found himself in that foul place from where the Dark Lord was resurrected.
He wasted no time and began searching with a quick eye, if he found what he wanted to find he'd be gone before anyone knew he'd returned or that he'd left with more than he'd came. He traced the steps of that night before, the battle between He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Harry Potter.
It had begun and the grave of Tom Riddle, then moved across and downward further and further. The boy had duelled him, had nearly won, then Cedric Diggory and the last fateful curse and then-
"Aha!"
There it was, exactly where it had been. He crouched down and grabbed the boys wand, twin to the Dark Lord's own, when he heard the crunching of dirt. He moved to grab his wand but was to slow and found himself disarmed and on the floor at the mercy of an unknown attacker.
As he was once again cursing his own stupidity, he should never have assumed the graveyard empty, he found the wand pointing in his face and two judging eyes looking down on him as the he voiced in his whispered toned of menace, "You have a great deal of explaining Alexander Greengrass, but I'll begin with a simple question. Where is Harry Potter?!"
Dinner with Harry Potter – Vivennia couldn't quite get her head around that concept. Yesterday her biggest concern had been making sure to schedule her meeting with the family accountant so that she could leave in time to meet the girls at Platform 9 & ¾ . Today here she was wondering if The Boy Who Lived was a vegetarian.
Not that it would matter of course, tonight's meal would be a simple tomato soup as she'd yet to have the food delivery for the week (it always arrived late in June, honestly it was becoming a hassle). She decided to at least set the table in a manner that looked presentably for guests.
A nice lavender tablecloth on the oak wood and the second-best silverware – not the best! The best was for Christmas and birthdays or whenever hers or Alexander's parents came to visit and... dear god this was not the things to be worrying about, she sighed.
Diets, presentation, cutlery – these were smaller issues for simple times. And as of last night, times had ceased to be simple. Here she was, half tipsy in mid-afternoon because to be anything but would leave her feeling all the feelings she did not want to feel. She didn't want to feel worried, or angry, or sad. She didn't want to think about what would happen once You-Know-Who began the next wizarding war.
She just wanted to feel as she had been for the last few years – content and happy. No tournaments, no wars, no laborious childbirths, or toddlers running full speed down the hallway right smack into the wall. And certaintly she didn't want to think about what might happen should He discover Harry Potter was dinning at the Greengrass table.
Vivennia had been brave once, back when she was young. Or had she simple been young and foolish? The two so often went side by side, nigh on indistinguishable. She'd certaintly felt brave when she'd entered the Tri Wizard Tournament. Back then it had been as You-Know-Who's war began. Though it was indeed a dark time, the coming together for the Tri-Wizard Tournament had been brought back to encourage Hogwarts students not to fear him or his followers but to show them what capable young minds could accomplish.
It was not the success that the ministry had hoped it would be. Unlike the current tournament which had yet to produce a death, both of Vivennia's competitors had perished horribly. One by Dragon, the other by Thunderbird – both deaths foolishly caused by the arrogance of lesser men.
She recalled how Dumbledore had protested the tournament at every stage, pointing out rightfully that it was not the appropriate time and the creatures they had captured were far too dangerous and untamed – they would tear the champions to shreds within seconds.
Minister for Magic Harold Minchum had ignored this as had his foreign colleagues. After the tournament had concluded their regret was clear as day. Rumours spread that the ministers, foreign delicate, and even one of the schools headmasters, had fallen under the effects of a dark jinx – a practical joke by a Death Eater supposedly to further break the moral of those fighting their lord. In truth, it was probably spread by those culpable of the crimes themselves for their foolishness. The sad things was, those responsible had lived their lives not once having to face any consequences for their actions while the families of those two poor children were left to mourn for decades – all because of rich foolish men desiring the most draconian form of amusement.
The tournament of today she knew was much safer in comparison – while dangerous it had been run through several committees who approved each stage and ensured every champion would have a legitimate chance of winning, and barring that a firm chance of survival. Though she doubted it had been broached in those meetings what was to be done if a Dark Wizard enter a student under the age as part of an evil maniac's plot to resurrect himself.
Not, it had been simpler times when she'd been a tournament champion and she was brave. Now she was older, wiser, and more learned. Learned enough to not think fear a weakness. Fear was a strength – the cunning and guile of the mind forming phantom realities showing her what could happen if she was not careful.
And what that reality of fear was now – a reality in which her daughters were dead, her husband dead, and her the last to die. She'd do everything to prevent that, anything to prevent that. Yet still part of her was brave, still foolish enough to allow Harry Potter to remain and willing to let him stay for as long as was needed.
Though she hoped that was not too long. The girls would be home tomorrow, an owl had arrived from Hogwarts some time after Alexander had left (where to she knew not) informing that a small ceremony was being held in remembrance of Harry Potter. Quite ridiculous really when there wasn't even solid proof of his death. Although perhaps the disappearance of 'Moody', the testamony of Diggory and the recent murder of Barty Crouch might leave little doubt even without a corpse present.
What was Dumbledore thinking, she wondered as the soup began to boil to perfect temperature. Surely, he couldn't truly believe Potter dead, he was an intelligent man if a little...odd. The man who beat Grindelwald wouldn't believe Harry Potter dead on word alone. He would surely investigate, look to prove the facts.
Though where would he begin? She supposed the last challenge, the 'maze' Daphne had described in her last letter. There was also 'Moody's' quarters. Though would this give him enough to know where to look? Alexander had informed her that Crouch Jr. had used the portkey to come to the cemetery.
No, he would have to discover some other way to locate where the boys went. But how?
Before she had a chance to wonder she heard a door opening and slow footsteps coming her way. At first, she thought it might be Alexander, but she quickly realised the footstep were far too light. Mr Potter then, finally roused from bed. Was he just looking around the Greengrass home? O perhaps he'd smelt the tomato soup from his room.
Either way supper was nearly prepared. There was no harm in having him come to the table. She quickly left the kitchen and went and found Harry Potter in Alexander's study. Curious place for the boy to drift to, she thought. He looked better for wares than he had done the night before. He'd appeared to have showered and been given fresh clothes – she assumed due to one of the house charms sensing that their guest needed fresh attire.
Potter was glancing at one of Alexander's bookshelves, at a novel she recognised as one of her own that she'd leant to her husband some years back. It was a book on defensive and offensive spells and tactics used by the best wizarding duellists throughout history. Having just been in a duel himself, and scarcely winning by sheers strength alone, it was no wonder that he'd been drawn to this particular book.
"I read that when I was a few years your senior." Vivennia said, startling the boy who turned to face his other host.
"I wasn't. I thought...I'm sorry, I just wandered out and I saw your husbands door open. Where is he?"
"I'm not entirely sure." She admitted. "He went off in quite a huff a little while after your conversation. I'm sure he'll be along soon enough. Come," She gestured towards the dining room, "dinners nearly ready."
The boy nodded and walked passed her in the direction she'd gestured. Before he'd entirely crossed the hallway however, he turned and looked at her with a frown. "Mrs Greengrass, you wouldn't happen to know where my wand is would you?"
A curious question indeed, and one she was not certain she had the answer for. Vivennia thought back to when her husband had brought Potter in. She remembered it quite clearly and, to her knowledge, no wand had been mentioned or shown at the time on his or her husbands person.
"I'm afraid not, but perhaps Alexander will know." She told him to which he gave a curt nod.
That was as much as they spoke until they were both sat down for dinner politely waiting for Alexander to make his appearance. Vivennia had to praise the boys patience and adherence to formality. Especially when he looked quite peckish. Where was that husband of hers? He'd been gone for some time now, and she was beginning to feel a little worried.
Had her worries for her family come true already? Was the Dark Lord aware of their families betrayal? Were her girls in any danger? Gods, she wished she could just grab her wand and her duelling garb and go into the night and find out all the answers by force. But that would surely do more harm than good.
She would be patient, patient and wait. She would be as patient as...well as young Mr Potter who was, poor boy, looking on the verge of collapsing from starvation. She decided she'd relieve him from this torture of waiting, her husband could wait until both their bellies were full.
"Well, I suppose my husband will be missing our company tonight. Please, eat."
With a polite smile, he immediately picked up his spoon and began at the food. At the first sip, he paused and closed his eyes and grinned as if in eustacy. "This is delicious."
"Well, I'd hope so, we don't serve bad meals in this household." She told him with a playful smirk.
"It's a lovely home." He told her.
"Why thank you. Though it's not mine by ancestry, Alexander's forebears grew up here for many generations. Someday it will belong to one of my daughters. Whomever married second." At his confused glanced she explained. "It's written into our wills that this house will be passed down to a Greengrass or not be passed down at all. The land will be given to the Ministry's Department of Housing so that, in the case that...well, if there's no more Greengrass's then the house should be a home to someone else."
"That's...quite progressive for purebloods." Harry stated in surprise.
"Yes, well, we're quite a progressive family I like to think." She subtly noted his brief look of approval.
The two sat there in fairly uncomfortable silence, one searching for words and the other uncertain if words were really what was necessary right now especially considering the later was recently nearly murdered. Still, she felt she had to make some discussion, she wasn't going to fordo with pleasantries now they'd been begun.
"Do you know what's going to happen?" He asked eventually. Answer her confused glance he elaborated, "I mean, what's going to happen now that...he's back."
She nearly chocked on her soup. Somehow, she didn't – thank the gods! She was not intending to be the first witch to die chocking on a liquid at a dinner table. She looked to Potter whose eyes were so filled with worry. Such young eyes. Poor boy, he'd faced so much in such a short life. The way he sat, the way he stood, the way he carried himself – he was more a man than a boy. It was difficult to acknowledge the truth that he was scarcely older than Daphne.
"Well...I'm sure the...Ministry will do their very best...and Dumbledore will...will..." she wasn't even believing her own words and clearly neither was Harry.
Sod it, she thought and decided to unload the truth. "The truth is...we're all massively fucked." She stunned even herself with her own bluntness, yet she kept going. "The Ministry is a shambles, it's lead by morons who've only got interest for their own re-election. As for Dumbledore, I'm sure he'll fight. But I'm also sure he'll lose. He's not the man who once beat Grindelwald – not anymore. And with the world now thinking you died the other night and the Prophet's pandering to Fudge's- "
"Wait, sorry, what?!" Harry looked absolutely flabbergasted at Vivennia. "Why exactly would the world think I'm dead?"
"Well," Vivennia sighed, summing the prophet with a wandless 'accio' and passing it to Harry, "have a look yourself."
She allowed him those few moments to take in the words, she knew he'd need it since she certaintly had. What sort of incompetence lead to a man as dull as Fudge leading Wizarding Britain was beyond her – the denial however she did understand. Lord Voldemort returning would send the whole country into uproar. There would be mass panic on the streets – riots, violence, magic in front of muggles.
"This is ridiculous!" He eventually exclaimed. "I can't believe that...me and Cedric...we saw him, we saw Voldemort, he was real and right in front of us! The Dark Mark in the sky-"
"Means nothing to them." She interrupted him bluntly. "It's not the first time that the Mark has been summoned in the last few years." To his budding eyes she offered a sad sigh. "Not all wizards are as happy about the state of things as we might hope. Not as many as the ones who are accepting of muggles and mugggleborns, but still quite a large number. Enough that, when the Mark is sighted, the Ministry usually leaves it go unreported."
"But that's insane!"
"That's politics, and bare in mind most of those who did follow...him, weren't short on gold. So, Ministers look the other way when a few purebloods cast the spell and drink a toast to their Dark Lord and in turn those same individuals back them in their political agendas."
It was the sad way of the world, but it would do no good if she lied to him. Harry Potter needed to know the truth if that was all the sanctuary she could provide after this night. Better the boy know his enemies were in the shadows than walk comfortably in the darkness.
"But what about our memories." Harry insisted, eyes aglow. "Dumbledore has a thing...a... what did he call it...a pensive!"
"Well, that would be handy I'll admit. But memories are subjective recall. There never really telling the whole story, only one observers capturing of events. They can easily go dismissed."
"Then truth serum!"
"Again," She told him, watching as his shoulders sank along with any hope he might have any ministry backing over the claims of the Dark Lords return, "truth is subjective. What we believe is true is not necessarily the truth in itself. For example, give truth serum to someone who is colour-blind and he may tell you that trees are orange and clouds are red – and that would be true. His truth. I'm sorry Harry Potter, but if Fudge doesn't want to believe you, or Cedric Diggory. he'll have plenty a good cause not to."
"I couldn't have put it better myself."
Startling both of them they turned to find a, slightly dishevelled but otherwise totally well-looking, Mr Greengrass standing at the entrance to the dining room. Alexander offered a short bow of his head then turned ever so slightly, and dare Vivennia note a little nervously, to his right before walking into the room.
"Apologies for my delay. I realised I had to get something." From his pocket his pulled out an eleven inch long, phoenix feather core, holly wand which Harry Potter immediately recognised. "After our conversation I realised I had left it at the graveyard. I now return it to you Mr Potter."
Extending it to the boy, Harry Potter graciously accepted it while Vivvenia tutted and fized her husband with a playfull glare – one he did not return. "Honestly husband, you've been gone all this time looking for a wand?!"
Alexander gave his wife a strange look, one that she could not immediately determine the meaning of. She then noticed that, clearly despite the best efforts of a cleaning charm, some small patches of dirt lingered around Alexanders coat and trousers. If she were to guess the cause she might have guessed some sort of scuffle.
"Well," Alexander said, letting out a deep breath. "While retrieving Mr Potters lost wand I ran into some...unexpected company?"
"Death Eaters?" Vivennia gasped, then immediately felt relief when he shook his head with a frown.
"No, not exactly. Actually I found myself in the company of-"The sound of a spell being cast was heard faintly through the open door, and Alexander gestured. "Well, that will be him now."
Now both Harry and Vivennia were very curious as to whom might be outdoors. While both had their speculations, both were proven wrong as who walked through that door into Greengrass Manor was indeed the last person in the world that either would have expected.
"You?!" Harry exclaimed.
"Will these twists and turns never cease!" Vivennia dryly exclaimed, downing her drink and opening her hands. "Welcome to Greengrass Manor, it's a pleasure to host you as well as Mr Potter Professor. Though first I'd like to know, what is your purpose here – are you friend, or foe?"