Knockturn Alley
Thunder rumbled in the distance. A group of raggedly dressed men snapped their heads up, scanning the alley rooftops.
Cecil Grouse shuddered.
"What?"
"Nothing. Let's get on with it."
"Don't tell me you believe the Ministry shite about a Dark Creature on the loose?"
"They set up a curfew, didn't they?"
"Scare tactics." Curtis Crane sneered. "They never set up a curfew for the Dark Lord. And he's real."
Cecil felt the hair on his arms stand on end.
"You feel that?"
"Just the cold." Crane didn't seem as confident as before. "It's fucking cold with all this fucking rain. Let's finish up and get out of here."
"You're not going anywhere!"
With a roar, Harry landed boots first on the shoulders of one of the Death Eaters, cracking both of the man's clavicles. He left the man, screaming on the ground, as he spun to kick a second Death Eater into the alley wall with a crack. The raggedly dressed man slumped.
Cecil ran faster than he thought he could. He knew the feeling of static on his skin was an anti-portkey ward. All he had to do was escape the range to get away.
He yelped as he was pulled off his feet. A hand grabbed him by the throat and slammed him hard against the brick wall. He gasped, fumbling fingers trying to pluck his wand from inside his jacket.
Harry ripped the wand from the man's fingers and snapped it in two. He flung one end of the broken wand across the alley and slammed the other into the man's collar bone.
Cecil screamed.
"THE DARK LORD!" Harry bellowed. "TELL ME WHERE HE IS!"
"I-I don't know!" Cecil sobbed. "I've never seen him!"
Harry ripped through muscle, scraping bone, as he tore the wand free, shoving it into the man's side. Cecil's throat turned raw as he screamed.
"THEN TELL ME SOMEONE WHO CAN!"
"Weasel!" Cecil gagged from the pain. "He- he frequents the Pear! The Horned Pair, just down the alley!"
Harry ripped the wand free, flinging it across the alley. Three hammer fist blows sent the younger man to his knees, spitting broken teeth. Harry leaned forward bringing his head right up to the Death Eater's whimpering face.
"He hasn't been seen there in weeks. I've checked. Where can I find him?"
"Ottery St Catchpole!" Cecil lisped through bleeding lips. "I know he lives near there! That's all I know, I swear!"
Harry twisted his own wand, healing the man's injuries. Cecil retched, then passed out from the pain.
As lightning flashed, Harry was gone.
Raindrops pummelled Potter Manor, causing a dull rumble to permeate the silence.
Harry stalked through the manor, not even bothering to remove his mask.
"Harry!" Sirius started awake from an armchair in front of the fireplace. "Harry, wait!"
Harry took the stairs three at a time, ripping open his DMLE documents folder. A quick search later, he found the list of residences.
"Harry, please just take a moment! You haven't been home more than a few minutes all week!"
"Is this laced?" Harry demanded, spinning on Sirius as he held up a bright red Pepper-Up potion.
"No." Sirius admitted. "I said I wouldn't do that again."
Harry downed the potion, then turned to leave.
"Just stop!" Sirius held his arm out, barring the doorway. "Harry! This isn't healthy! You're not thinking clearly! The Ministry of Magic is hunting you, Harry! Hunting you! They implemented a curfew because people are terrified of you!"
"The right people."
"You're scaring me!"
Harry paused.
"Move, Sirius."
"Harry, I know how you feel!" Sirius pleaded. "After your parents died, all I could see was red! I wanted nothing more than to rip Wormtail to bloody shreds!"
Harry grabbed Sirius' wrist.
"Move, Sirius. Or I. Will. Move you."
Sirius stumbled out of the way as Harry passed.
"Harry?" Astoria's voice rang like a gunshot.
Harry faltered.
"Potter, is that you?"
Footsteps on the stairwell. Harry ripped off his cape and mask, throwing them to the ground inside the study.
"Harry!" Astoria jumped him, throwing her arms around him. After a moment of hesitation, Harry held her close.
"I invited them over for dinner." Sirius explained, nudging Harry's discarded disguise further out of sight. "There's no need for us to grieve alone."
"You look like how I feel." Astoria laughed into his shoulder.
"Is it that bad?"
"Dark circles under your eyes, unkempt beard, and by the looks of things you haven't had a wash in days." Draco supplied helpfully, smiling thinly from his haggard face.
"Not since Daphne…" Sirius trailed off.
Harry sagged in Astoria's arms, forcing himself to breathe evenly. To stay strong.
"I feel so powerless." Harry whispered.
"There's nothing you could have done." Astoria sobbed quietly as tears stung Harry's eyes.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me." Albus smiled. "Please, have a seat, Miss Granger. Lemon drop?"
"No thank you, sir."
"Would you mind if we played a game of Wizard's Chess while we spoke?" Albus peered over his half moon spectacles. "I've rather been in the mood as of late."
"I suppose not."
"Perhaps, to make things interesting, you'd indulge an old man in a wager?"
"What kind of wager?"
"Well, you've never given my lemon drops a chance. So if I win, you try one."
"And if I win?"
"If you defeat me… I shall give you something quite precious."
"Very well…"
"How is Mr Longbottom?" The headmaster asked, flourishing his wrist as he made the opening move.
"As well as can be expected." Hermione replied, making her own play with economic efficiency.
Fawkes cooed.
"I was quite worried about the lad. Quite worried."
"Well, he was poisoned. As was Professor Riddle."
"One could almost believe my staff to have been intended targets. I believe that's check."
"Almost."
"You still do not trust me, Miss Granger."
Hermione paused, a rook between her fingers.
"You housed an incredibly dangerous magical artefact in a school, knowing full well that Voldemort was after it."
"A mistake I have paid for ever since."
"You took no precautions to prevent harm from befalling the student body due to Quirrel's actions. I am lucky to be alive, despite your efforts."
"Can you not find room for forgiveness in your heart?"
"I forgave you a long time ago. The issue is not with forgiveness, but trust. Check."
"How can one recapture your trust without being given the opportunity to do so?"
"You don't need me to give you a chance, or my permission to do the right thing. You win my trust back by doing the right thing, regardless of what others think."
"Have I not atoned for my mistakes?"
"In the fourteen years since Voldemort's resurrection, you have made no real effort to capture him."
"The Minister himself asked me not to get involved."
"So you let Britain suffer?"
Albus sighed.
"You put an awful lot on my shoulders. Check."
"The greatest men suffer the greatest trials."
"A rather large regard for my abilities, considering your disdain for my person."
"Not your person, your morals." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You never spoke out against the Death Eaters flooding the streets, recruited in the castle no less. You could have ensured that they were adequately punished."
"I believe in redemption. Rehabilitation. Not punishment for what cannot be undone." Dumbledore took Hermione's bishop.
"You could have prevented the need for redemption."
"In my experience, punishment before the crime does not lead to lasting change in behaviour."
"Change in behaviour is not necessary when you contain the influence that behaviour has on others." Hermione's Knight took one of Dumbledore's.
"Contain but not cut off. That hurt, left unhealed, will still hurt others. Check."
"Yet much more harm is done if containment is wholly avoided." Hermione shook her head.
"Far greater dividends may be reaped from rehabilitation than permanent incarceration."
"Incarceration does not preclude rehabilitation. It merely facilitates an environment in which rehabilitation can occur without risk to too many."
"So you do believe in rehabilitation?"
"Not at the cost of security."
"That sounds an awful lot like fascism."
Hermione paused, regarding the pieces on the board.
"Suppression of opposition for the security of the state…" Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth.
"A very derogatory mindset."
"Yet the idea unsettles you."
The silence dragged a while longer.
"It does. But a lax system of justice that allows repeat offenders to commit the same atrocities over and over cannot be the answer. We must uphold the sanctity of our institutions."
"And yet, you yourself know those institutions to be fallible."
"Then we can only do what we believe to be right." Unbidden, thoughts of Potter arose in her mind.
"Yet we too are fallible. What right do we have as individuals to dictate morality?"
"We can only uphold the virtues of society."
"A corrupt, venal society? Twisted from the shadows by greed and lust for power?"
"The system is not perfect." Hermione relented. "But failure to act is still failure. Society is dictated by the will of the people, and we must hold our institutions accountable on a large scale, while not holding ourselves above them. Trials, due punishment, and detainment are necessary to protect the people. There must be consequences for infractions against the greater good, but always a chance for rehabilitation. I believe in justice, not capital punishment."
"I do believe that is mate." Dumbledore regarded the pieces on the board, a kind smile on his face. "I cannot see a way out."
"I had the proper motivation to win." Hermione grinned.
"My clandestine prize?"
"Not needing to taste your candies."
"You truly begrudge an old man his comforts?"
"Only when they're sweet enough to eat through wood."
"Influence from your parents?"
"Self preservation."
Dumbledore laughed softly, then after a moment, drew from inside his robes a silk wrapped bundle, long and thin.
The moment she accepted the parcel, an immense sense of warmth and sheer power overwhelmed her.
With testing fingers she undid the twine knots, unwrapping a wand, 15 inches long, thin and dark, six pitted beads running along its length.
"A wand…" Hermione breathed. She wanted to reject the offer. Something deep inside held her back.
"I have it on good authority that your old wand is no longer suited to you."
The old man smiled mysteriously, indicating the chessboard in front of him.
"And you won it from me, quite decisively."
"It is… unlike anything I have ever felt…" She whispered. "I feel… unstoppable…"
"A word of warning, if I may." Dumbledore lowered his voice. "The wand is carved from Elder wood, the rarest of all wand woods. It is believed to be precarious, but incomparably powerful, as this wand itself is. It is my estimation that an extraordinarily capable person could truly master it."
"And you believe I am such a person?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"My dear miss Granger…" The old man's eyes twinkled over his half moon spectacles. "I cannot think of anyone I would rather entrust it to."
"-and you'd better answer my Owls from now on, Potter!" Astoria warned, smiling as she wiped her cheeks clear. With a last teary eyed wave, she stepped into the fireplace and vanished.
"Potter…" Draco steadied himself. "I… I have something for you."
"I'll go put the kettle on." Sirius said, pressing a comforting hand to Draco's shoulder.
Draco handed Harry a sealed, age worn envelope.
"I know you can do what I cannot. Send my regards to Auror Granger."
With a flash of fire, the blonde was gone.
Harry cracked the seal, causing shards of wax to scatter.
In an elegant, flowing hand, very similar to Draco's, seven words sent Harry reeling.
Malfoy Manor is located outside Wardour, Wiltshire.
As if a great barrier had been lifted, hints and words from a week's constant interrogations assaulted his mind. He placed his hands to his head, overwhelmed as the pieces finally fell into place.
With absolute certainty, Harry summoned his gear, and stepped into the fireplace.
"Malfoy Manor!"
He stepped out onto darkened wood floors, causing a maskless Death Eater to yelp in surprise. Harry stunned him quickly, disillusioning the body. After a moment's consideration, he placed the man's wand in one of the expanded pouches on his belt.
"Harry!" His locket buzzed. "Harry, what's going on? Where did you go?"
"I'm in-" His mouth wouldn't form the words. "Right. Fidelius."
"Fidelius?!"
"No time."
Invisibility cloak over his shoulders, Harry sped through the manor. It was massive, magically expanded, with a single long hallway ending in a T, opening up so that three floors were visible above each other and ending in a painted, marble ceiling. Crystal chandeliers hung from silver cords casting even, white light.
He entered a room on the bottom level, stunning three maskless Death Eaters where they sat, disillusioning the bodies, and collecting their wands. The room held three beds, wardrobes, and a small bookshelf.
"A barracks of some kind." He guessed.
"For who?"
"Death Eaters."
"Tell me you're not in Voldemort's fucking lair?!"
"I couldn't tell you if I wanted to. Fidellius."
Back in the hallway Harry paused, pressing himself against the wall as a group of Death Eaters passed. Looking back the way they came from, he sped forward, finally reaching a dead end. The far end was a massive set of windows, running from the floor all the way to the ceiling, four stories up. Twin staircases wound on either end, leading up to the higher levels, while a single wooden staircase burrowed down into the floor.
Two Death Eaters lounged by the entrance. A quick stunner and fist sent them crumpling to the ground.
"Up or down, Watcher?"
"What are we looking for?"
"Prisoners."
"Dungeons tend to be on the lower levels, but you know that so why ask?"
"Down it is." Harry made his way down the staircase, out into a large cellar. He pulled the downed Death Eaters after him, stowing their bodies inside the sunken room.
Barrels dotted the walls, and eight black coffins dominated the floor, two standing open and empty. Harry moved forward, removing the locket from inside his robes, and revealing the mirror, a single, grey eye gazing from within.
"Any idea what we're seeing here, Watcher?"
"Best guess… some manner of Stasis Coffin. Healers used them back when healing was essentially just potioncraft. Injured wizards would be held in a magically induced coma until the curative potions were prepared."
"Noted." Harry leaned over one of the closed coffins. "You see that, Watcher?"
"Dear Merlin. That's the thing that attacked you!"
"One like it, yeah. I think these are all mutated Wizards and Witches. Can we shrink the coffins without harming them?"
"Doubtful."
"We'll have to return with some backup. Get rid of these properly."
Harry quietly made his way out of the cellar. The halls were eerily quiet. He made his way through the long, central hallway, finding that it ended in a twin room to the other side. He once again descended the wooden stairs.
Unlike the cellar before, Harry found a winding stone corridor, packed with iron cells. He walked slowly through the dungeons, heart aching for the whimpering and sobbing wretches in the cells. Men, women, goblins, even a few vampires. All filthy and dishevelled, showing clear signs of malnourishment and abuse.
Four Death Eaters sat around a table, playing cards.
With a flick from his wand, Harry destroyed the nearest lamps in the area.
"What the-"
With seven precise blows, four Death Eaters slumped on the floor. The dungeon rumbled with moans and fearful whispers.
"You can't scare us!" A proud voice called.
Assenting voices drowned out the mewling and whimpering. Harry inverted his cloak, then lit his wand.
"Good."
The voices stilled at his appearance. He walked through the occupied cells, using his wand to melt away the locks on the iron doors, swinging them open. Not a single prisoner moved. Some gasps and hushed words whispered in the space as the captives pressed themselves away from the exits to their cells.
"What are you?" A strong, female voice demanded. "What has Voldemort conjured this time?"
"I am not one of his thugs or mutants." Harry growled.
"Then what? Why are you here?"
"I am… here to free you."
"You're filling me with confidence!" A male voice.
"Great sales pitch!" A twin voice agreed.
"Then here!" Harry dumped the scavenged wands out on the table. "If you can carry a wand, arm yourself! I can guide you to a fireplace!"
More lights joined Harry's wand. He noted two elderly women, one with grey hair in a stern bun, and another with steel hair to her shoulders. Twin redheads, Weasleys Harry guessed, stood next to a young, fair haired man. Finally, Harry saw someone he recognised.
"Luna Lovegood?" He asked, shocked. "I thought you were dead?"
"Oh no." She smiled dreamily. "Though sometimes I'm not sure, myself."
His heart sank as he noticed one particular face, absent from the crowd.
"I'm looking for someone, a woman, blonde, green eyes?"
"Is this her?"
He followed the stern witch's finger, seeing Daphne crumpled on the floor of a cell. Feet leaden, he made his way to her. Shaking hands checked for a heartbeat, and he breathed shakily in relief as he found it. He lifted her gently, cradling her in his arms as he stood.
"Let me." The fair haired man insisted. "Colin Creevy. I reckon we've got a much fairer shot making it out with you on a wand."
"I… alright. Be careful."
"Sure thing, chief."
"Alright. Does anyone here have experience in combat?"
"Amelia Bones." A stern witch said. "I was a Hit Wizard twelve years, Director of the DMLE three years."
"Fred and George Weasly." The twins said in unison, bowing. "At your service. We were international duos duelling champions."
"Minerva Mcgonagall." The other elderly witch stated. "I fought in the first wizarding war against Voldemort."
When no-one else made any assertions of prowess, Harry nodded. There were well over two dozen prisoners, some unconscious, others too weak to walk. After handing out his store of potions, Harry regarded the group.
"We'll make do. Follow me."
"How far is it to the exit?" Bones asked.
Harry put a finger to his mask. Two Death Eaters rounded the corner, downed by quick blows from his fists. He darted forward, taking cover around a corner and peering down the ensuing hallway. After a moment, he motioned for the crowd to follow.
Their going was painfully slow, constantly cowering and hiding in rooms as Harry dispatched and disillusioned Death Eaters, leaving unseeable bodies trailing in their wake.
"Why even give us wands if you are going to do all the work?" Bones hissed.
"As a last resort." Harry replied, holding an arm to prevent the captives from spilling out into the hall. "We have no hope of fighting our way out. And I needed you to trust me."
Harry flinched as a crash resounded from ahead of them in the hallway.
"What the fuck?!" A charm whistled. "Wha- Scabbring? Hey! Someone took him out!"
Voices answered through the manor.
"Run!" Harry called, pointing down the hallway. "Keep going until you find two marble pillars!"
"Where are you going?!"
"Creating a diversion!"
Harry leapt up, grappling from a lamp and using it to mount the upper floor bannister. He sent a blasting curse into the nearest chandelier, sending it crashing to the floor below in a shower of glass. Death Eaters on all levels poured from rooms as Harry blasted a second chandelier into splinters. As spells filled the air and groups of figures ran to the ends of the hallway to get on the right level, Harry sped forward, sending a man screaming to the marble floor below.
Fierce blows with his fists and quick spells from his wand cut swathes in the oncoming crowds, but Harry was massively outnumbered. His cloak was rippling and smoking, losing feathers where spells tore through the silk lining.
Harry darted down the hallway, taking down any Death Eater that crossed his path, woefully unable to match the sheer numbers. He leapt from the first story floor, grabbing hold of the cord that used to hold a chandelier, and swinging himself to the second floor, landing on another Death Eater with a crack. He grunted, rolling off the unconscious woman and continuing his mad rush.
Spells blasted marble from pillars, splintered wood linings and reduced portraits to scraps. Harry narrowly avoided a bright orange curse, ducking into a room and banishing all the furniture inside against the door. Blasting curses rent great heaving gashes in his barricade.
Harry blasted into the floor, jumping down back onto the level below. Broken scraps of wood showered down on him as more furniture was spelled apart in the room above.
"It's back down here!" A Death Eater called as Harry ran down the first floor hallway.
Harry leapt clear of the marble bannister, and rolled as he landed on the ground floor, crunching shards of glass from the broken chandeliers as he went. Dodging spellfire, Harry made his way to the foyer. The group of escapees were Flooing away one by one while Mcgonagall, Bones and the Weasleys shielded and returned spells.
Harry turned, holding his cape out to block an incoming volley of spells.
"Where do we take her?!" Creevy shouted, a bloody gash over his eye.
"St Mungo's!" Harry whipped a stunner over his shoulder, taking a woman in the face.
Multicoloured lights flashed in the hallway as one side fought to overpower a smaller force, while the other wrenched their freedom from the jaws of captivity. Harry pivoted between creating cover with his cape and returning fire. Only eight prisoners still needed to escape.
Smoking black feathers littered the floor as Harry's cape was torn further to shreds.
Harry slashed his wand, blasting marble debris from the walls and ceiling, creating cover against spellfire and obstructing the way.
"Go, Min!" Bones shouted. "Then you! Whoever you are!"
"I go last!" Harry asserted, shielding three pulsing purple curses.
Suddenly, as a great wind would blow out a room of candles, the spellfire stopped. The hall bristled with whispers and rustling fabric.
"What's going on?" One of the Weasleys asked. "Why are they stopping?"
"No time to waste on finding out!" Harry shouted. "GO!"
Harry's marble barricade exploded. He grunted as the force from the explosion hurtled him into the mantlepiece. The wood snapped in two as Harry felt a few of his ribs give. Gagging from the pain, Harry watched through spots in his vision as a single, white skinned man walked calmly down the hallway.
With a flick of his pale wand, the man caused the fireplace to explode.
Bones, the Weasley Twins and Mcgonagall all fired at once, casting chains of curses with blinding speed.
As if time stood still, Harry watched a golden spell take a Weasley off his feet, while a bright green curse toppled Mcgonagall. Limping, Harry threw himself in front of his companions, feeling curses splash against his now tattered cloak.
"Take this!" He tossed the still conscious George a Galleon. "Emergency Portkey! Take Mcgonagall! I have Bones!"
As they disappeared, Harry raced towards the dodging older woman, cloak held up.
"You have nothing." A high pitched voice attested calmly.
Bones staggered as a thin blue curse struck her across the chest. Harry watched her eyes go glassy as she fell to the ground in two halves.
A blasting curse sent Harry flying against the far wall. He felt something in his spine give in with a crack. Heaving for breath, he struggled to his hands and knees.
"So… you are what has been hunting me…" The voice was snow in the darkness. "I do not remember inviting you into my home."
A gentle foot rolled Harry onto his back. His ears rang as he struggled against the foot pressing him to the marble floor with limp arms and numb fingers.
The thin, yew wand pressed against the bare skin of Harry's neck under his mask.
"Avada Kedavra." Voldemort purred.
Harry knew no more.
He lay in a bright mist, though it was unlike mist he had ever known. A smoky vapour surrounded him. It did not hide his surroundings, rather, it was as if his surroundings were still forming. The ground was white, neither hot nor cold.
It simply existed.
Harry started to his feet, hands ready to defend himself, but he was alone. The cloudy vapour twisted and shaped, forming the inside of Potter Manor, sharp with white light. Nowhere was any other colour to be seen. No other colour existed.
He meandered, aimlessly, through the foyer, flinching to a stop as he saw blood seeping from under a table. He found a small hairless, mangled humanoid curled up in fetal position, covered in blood.
"I don't remember owning a cat." Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust, tapping the mutilated form with his toe.
"You really can tell Padfoot raised you."
Harry spun around, facing a version of himself, hands raised in defence. A few things hit him at the same time. The brown eyes, the round spectacles, the longer nose.
Harry faltered. His throat tightened.
"Dad?"
"Hello Harry." He laughed as his son ran into him, holding him close.
"What is it?" Harry whispered.
"Something that is beyond either of us."
"I don't understand."
"We don't have the time to explain, I'm afraid."
"Why not?" Harry felt his chest tighten. "I- I died. I'm dead. Dad… I…"
"Breathe, Harry." His father soothed. "Harry, you've been given a choice…"
"A choice?"
The white doors to the manor swung open, revealing blinding white light.
"You can follow me. Pass out of this world. You can finally let yourself rest."
There was no sound, no light, no indication, but Harry felt the study call to him.
"Or you can go back."
Harry took a staggering step back. His eyes fixed on the brilliance outside the manor. He felt himself take an involuntary step.
"Come with me." His father held out a hand.
Tears stung his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Dad." He whispered. "I've still got work to do."
With the tip of his wand, Voldemort began lifting the black mask.
A sensation overwhelmed Voldemort then, a feeling he had not known since his youth in the orphanage, a cloying sting on his jaw. He felt himself lifted gently into the air as three of his teeth dislodged from the force of Harry's fist.
Ragged breaths tore from Harry as he clawed upright. He grabbed a shattered brick, dislodged from the mantlepiece.
"Portus." He gagged as he was whisked away.
"Harry!" Sirius leapt up as Harry crashed onto the workbench.
"I- I did it." Harry cackled madly.
"We need to get you to a Healer!" Sirius undid the clasps holding Harry's cloak to his back.
He went pale as he inspected the rough angles of bone pressing against the skin of Harry's back and sides. Gashes, gorges of mangled flesh and cursed skin patched Harry's body like a quilted blanket.
"Fuck that we need to get a Healer here!"
"Sirius…" Harry sniggered.
"Harry, stay awake, stay with me!" He picked up vial after vial from the potion's rack, holding up one in each hand. One bright pink and the other shocking red. "Why don't you label these?!"
"Red one."
Sirius helped Harry sit, pressing his eyes shut tight as his godson shrieked in pain. He shuddered as bones creaked and crackled back into place.
"Nerve damage." Sirius whispered, scrabbling out a brief missive. "Nipsy! Take this to Mrs Tori!"
The elf bobbed her head, eyes wide as saucers, then popped away.
"S-sirius…" Harry giggled quietly.
"Please Harry, just hang on!" Sirius felt his chest ache as he watched his godson's eyelids flicker closed, a beaming grin on his face.
"I punched him, Sirius." Harry coughed out another ragged snicker. "Right in the kisser, Sirius. You should… should have seen his face…"
