Chapter X
September 21, 1996
"How long do you think you'll be gone?"
"Probably a few hours. Dumbledore says he wants me to tell him 'my story', whatever that means."
Daphne pondered that for a moment, crossing the room to sit next to him on his bed where he was digging through his trunk. "You've done more in sixteen years than most wizards do in their entire lives. Don't be modest."
"Somehow, I doubt that's going to impress a guy that's been alive for more than six hundred years."
She shrugged, sliding a little closer. "It's okay to be worried. I am, too. But Dumbledore knows Flamel; he's got a plan, this is going to work."
He nodded, as though convincing himself of the veracity of her words. "You're right. There's no reason not to try. You're going to be okay here?"
Daphne nodded, wearing a fond smile as she ran her fingers through his hair, ostensibly to try and straighten it out, but really just luxuriating in the pleasing sensations that echoed through her body at the contact. "Your hair is a mess. And what are you looking for?"
"A good pair of robes. All I have are these ugly brown ones. I haven't worn such cheap robes since First Year!" Harry moaned, holding up the low-quality robes the healer had provided him after Mikebuda.
Reaching out, Daphne extricated the robes from his grasp, setting them aside before taking his hands in hers. "You don't expect me to really believe that, do you? What's this really about?"
"The ICW has Sirius. They- they've tortured him."
"What? But- why?" She was aghast. Lord Black had been nothing but kind to her and her sist- "What about Tori?! Is she- has she been…?" It was too horrible to even contemplate.
'I don't think so. I can't imagine they'd hide it if they had her; this is all to get at me, after all." Harry squeezed her hands. "It's why I think, no matter whether Flamel is willing to help me or not…"
"It doesn't have to happen that way. Trust Dumbledore! He was the Supreme Mugwump for decades; between him and Flamel, they'll be able to work something out!" She was confused at the serious, somber expression he wore. "Now's not the time to worry, not yet. Not while we still have a plan!"
"You're right," he replied, a ghost of a smile breaking out over his face. "You're right."
Daphne reluctantly let go of his hands, contenting herself by resting her head in his shoulder. She delighted in the fact that he didn't seem to react to her move. "What do you think you'll do, I mean, when this is all over?"
"I don't know. Maybe travel, but for fun this time? It's a big world out there. What about you?"
A soft smile on her face, Daphne pondered his question. "I'll figure something out."
Several long minutes went by before Dumbledore entered after a brief knock.
"It's time."
The fireplace flared green, and before the figure that emerged even had time to brush the soot off his robes, he fell face forward to the floor.
Senio lowered his wand, gesturing for the Minister to manhandle their visitor onto a chair, limbs awkwardly splayed out from his Full-Body-Bind Curse. MacDougal paused when conjured ropes lanced out, tying the man to the chair before the petrification curse was lifted.
"Now, the veritaserum, if you would," he commanded, settling into a chair opposite Edward Abbot, chuckling at the venomous glare his prisoner aimed at the Minister.
"You treacherous bastard! I should have known better than to trust a power-hungry bootlicker like you!"
MacDougal's expression didn't change, and Senio spoke up when it seemed Abbott was ready to launch another tirade. "Your hostility is unwarranted. The Minister has been acting under my direction, ever since I received this."
Abbott looked uncomprehendingly at the envelope held between two of Senio's fingers. "What is that?"
"A most remarkable letter, from an angry little girl. Teenagers can be so unpredictable, can't they? To think that she would betray her own father, all in pursuit of seeing one of her classmates meet his end… Amusing, isn't it? That so much could change, based on the feelings of one girl?"
"I don't understand, why have you brought me here? What is in that letter?"
Senio gestured again to MacDougal, and without delay three drops of potion were forced onto his tongue. "Where is Susan Bones?"
"I don't know."
"Have you been seeking her out?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I paid two men in Knockturn Alley to try and locate her."
"Why was she reported dead?"
Abbott's jaw clenched, but it was nearly impossible to resist Veritaserum. "Her aunt sought to hide her pregnancy from public knowledge."
Senio sat up straight in his chair, leaning forward eagerly. "Susan Bones is pregnant?"
"Yes."
"With- who is the father of her child?"
"I don't know."
'Of course. Definitive questions provide only absolute answers' "Who do you believe to be the father?"
"Harry Potter."
With a brilliant grin, he stood up. "Thank you, Lord Abbott. Does Susan have any other family?"
"No."
"Has anyone in your family been in contact with her?"
"No."
He wasn't sure what else to ask. It seemed that Abbott was as clueless to Susan's current whereabouts as he was. The cloudiness in the man's eyes was beginning to fade; the Veritaserum was wearing off.
What to do with him, though? Abbott had already employed people to search for her. He was one of the wealthiest men in Magical Britain, all the more so since Potter had cut through the wealthy elite like a scythe. Not even mentioning the Minister's patronage, prior to the erection of the Blockade, which had vastly increased Abbott's business on the Continent.
No, simply imprisoning him would buy only a brief interruption in Abbott's search, while at the same time creating an obvious enemy. There were already enough of those running around this Merlin-forsaken country.
"Wh-what are you going to do?" Abbott asked, seeing Senio take a step forward. "I've told you everything I know!"
"Minister, contact the muggles. Get a photo of Susan to them and make sure they know she is wanted for questioning. Tell them whatever you must, but make it known that this is of the utmost importance."
It was unfortunate, but necessary. Senio found himself doing many unfortunate things since he came here, but those were just more crimes to lay at Potter's feet. If he'd just accepted responsibility for his actions, all of this suffering could have been avoided. When they finally met, Senio would have to remember to tell him that.
Taking the large vial of Veritaserum from MacDougal's hands, Senio held open Abbott's mouth and poured in the entire amount.
Not for the first time, Reggie wondered why he went into this line of work. Sure, Mum had waxed poetic over the benefits of government work, but it wasn't exactly the glamorous sort of public service he'd envisioned. No, in fact he'd go so far as to say that he might have been better off working at Sainsbury's - at least he'd have spent most of his time indoors!
Instead, here he was, splashing around puddles in what had to be the most porous raincoat ever engineered, suffering through the sixth rainy day in a row. All this, for nine quid an hour!
Reggie looked once more at the package in his hand, then at the two houses in front of him. Was this some sort of prank? There was no Number 7, Walburton Lane! Maybe the lads at distribution were taking the mickey, throwing this heavy package into his bag, knowing he'd end up wandering around in the rain trying to figure out where it was meant to go. It was the sort of prank that was all too common at the Royal Mail.
The postman sighed, swallowing back a curse. A bloody pain in the arse, this was! He was going to tear Walter a new one when he got back to the office!
"Pardon me," came a sudden voice to his side. "I've noticed you walk by close to a half-dozen times. Is there a problem?"
Reggie started at the appearance of the elderly man, slicked back hair seeming untouched by the downpour, wearing a suit that might have been posh a century back. His English was perfect, but there was the slightest trace of an accent, something that reminded him a bit of his holiday to Gibraltar a few years back.
"My apologies, sir, I think that my mates were having a laugh. You see, I have this package for Number 7, but there isn't any such address-"
"Isn't there?" the man interrupted, gesturing with his walking stick toward the space that Reggie had been pacing. "It is, in fact, my residence."
Reggie was open-mouthed in shock. A house, twice as large as any on the block, sat directly between Numbers 6 and 8. It- it wasn't possible that he'd walked past that. So where the hell did it come from?!
"You said something about a package?"
"Erm, yes sir. You're Mauro Zabini? I'll need a signature," he said, passing over a clipboard with a plastic covering. "I don't think I've ever seen that house before…"
While the postman continued to gawk at the house, Zabini had opened the package, withdrawing a letter that he quickly scanned, then proceeded to pull out what looked like a ham radio. "Interesting."
Personally, Reggie thought that the fact the letter showed no signs of moisture, despite sitting out in the rain, was much more interesting than a vintage piece of communications equipment, but it had been a strange day full of oddities. "Right then, guess that's a mission accomplished. You can always count on the Royal Mail-"
"Excuse me, young man. It says that this, ah, machine is 'battery-operated'. Where might I procure the appropriate equipment?"
"You mean batteries?" Zabini nodded. "Well, almost anywhere. Here, let me see," Reggie gave the radio a quick once-over, opening a small compartment and examining the vacancy. "Just go to a corner shop and ask for a D battery."
"Thank you, you've been most helpful. Step closer for a moment, young man."
It had been ages since anyone called Reggie 'young', but something about this old man seemed trustworthy, despite the entirely bizarre nature of just about every moment of their interaction. He approached. "Yes, sir?"
"Obliviate."
"Morning fellas, how's life treating you?"
"What are you doing here, Jacobs? I know for a fact you're not assigned anywhere near the detention area today."
Wally offered a casual shrug, pulling out a piece of parchment and a potion's vial. "Captain Simmons ordered me to swing by and ask a few more questions to the two you've got in special detention."
One of the two aurors on guard duty at the DMLE took the parchment, reading it carefully. "Looks like it's on the up and up. Why you, though?"
Arranging his features into an irritated scowl, Wally tried to project frustration into his voice. "I was supposed to have the next two days off. My birthday, so of course I got the nod for this job."
"Heh, well this is the aurors, kid. Gotta follow orders if you don't want the brass to ride you like a broom."
"I'll try to remember that next time. Now, if you don't mind?"
The guard waved him through, and Wally walked with measured steps down the empty line of cells that made up the special detention area. At the very end of the block were the two women, still in the same cells facing each other, that he'd seen tortured that horrible day.
"What do you want?" the younger woman asked, the bruises little more than faded yellow marks, but her previously beautiful face was still missing teeth with an obviously broken nose. "You don't have our dinner, tho I'm gething you're here for thome other purputhe." Her missing teeth had apparently left her with a strong lisp.
"Whatever it is, please don't hurt her. She's still recovering from what you bastards did to her last time!"
"I'm not here to hurt you," Wally said, unsurprised at the skeptical reaction his statement garnered. "I just wanted to give you this."
"I don't want it," the younger woman said, at the same time that her mother shouted, "Don't drink that!"
"Quiet!" he hissed. "Listen, it's nothing nefarious. It's Skele-Gro, not poison."
The young woman ignored the proffered potion, both of them silent. Wally couldn't tell if their reaction was contemplation or an attempt to will him away. "Here, hold still," he tried again, withdrawing his wand, feeling a sinking feeling of guilt at the fearful, involuntary flinch his action caused. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Episkey."
The fading bruises vanished, and her nose straightened with a painful 'pop', and she raised one hand to her face, staring at him in surprise. "Why are you doing thith?"
"I just- I don't know. Here, take the potion, I can't stay much longer."
"Mum?"
"Let me see the potion. Merlin knows I've dealt with Skele-Gro enough that I can recognize it by sight and smell." Wally passed the vial through the bars to the older woman, and she removed the stopper, eyeing it carefully and raising it to her nose. After a few sniffs, she nodded and held it out for him to take back. "It's what he says, dear."
The young, pink-haired woman accepted the potion and gulped it down, making a face at the taste. He took back the empty vial, stowing it in his robes, turning away to head back the way he came, pausing only a moment at the older woman's faint voice.
"Thank you."
The portkey dropped Dumbledore and Harry to the ground.
"What is this?" Harry's voice was low, urgent. "What do we do, Dumbledore?"
Nicholas Flamel stood without the aid of his cane, wand held pointed to the ground. "I warned you, Albus, that your association with the boy would be your undoing."
"Treachery of this sort is beneath you, old friend." He had to shout to be heard over the snarls and roars around them.
"Dumbledore!" Harry hissed again, but the old man ignored him.
He could feel his young companion's magic swirling, rising in response to the situation they found themselves in, but Dumbledore ignored him, remaining focused on the man that had functioned as his mentor for longer than a half-century, who'd spent years patiently and painstakingly instructing him in not just magic, but in all areas of how to be a great wizard.
"Recall my words - there is no life that is more valuable than protecting magic's secret. You would see our world burn to satisfy your desire to redeem darkness. In the end, your need to be kind and forgiving has left you a fool on a devil's errand. This is the end, Albus."
There was no reasoning with him. Perhaps if Perenelle were... no. There was little to be gained indulging in 'what-ifs'. Instead, he evaluated the trap that had been sprung around them. Four Hungarian Horntails boxed them in, with a small cluster of handlers sheltered near each, no doubt there to have herded them into position. Nicholas stood at the edge of his property directly before them, ensconced within ancient wards brimming with lethal energies. Heavy, oppressive anti-portkey enchantments and disapparition jinxes weighed them down.
Harry's aura exploded into being, knocking off Dumbledore's hat and billowing his robes. A series of flashes lanced down from the heavens towards one dragon but were intercepted by a large bubble above them. Apparently, the wards that had trapped them also protected against kinetic attacks.
"Did you really think that I would enter this engagement without researching your abilities?" Flamel called out, his voice faint as a stream of dragonfire impacted a shield Dumbledore cast.
Before his shield even had time to waver, before the residual heat even made its way to them, the stream of fire cut out. A hand, formed of solid iron, launched out of the ground, rising forty feet in the blink of an eye and latching onto the Horntail's throat before pulling back towards the earth. The dragon's breath attack ceased as its jaw slammed into the earth, the speed that the hand retracted so great that its head was buried several feet below ground.
"Did you really think you could beat me with these overgrown lizards? You should have brought more dragons, old man!"
More fire, from two different directions, came at them but Dumbledore was ready, raising thick walls of stone in their path, following that by conjuring heavy chains to restrain the dragon that was only now starting to pull itself upright from Harry's attack.
"Harry-" Dumbledore began but with his eyes shining a bright emerald green, the young man ignored him.
A Horntail screeched, propelled into the air by its great wings as the ground it stood upon was torn asunder, a massive chasm appearing beneath it. Harry shouted something, an incantation Dumbledore didn't recognize, and intense localized winds buffeted the airborne magical creature.
Dragons are not beings of fire and air for nothing, however; instinctively, the Horntail adjusted its trajectory, gliding along the air currents, flowing with the wind rather than fighting it. That is, until a massive bolt of lightning struck it square in the head, stunning the dragon just long enough for Harry's wind magic to propel it directly into a second Horntail.
Lowering the Elder Wand following his lightning spell, Dumbledore tried once more. "Harry! We must retreat!"
But the young wizard was already charging the last upright dragon, running straight at it in a display of such Gryffindor-ish quality that Dumbledore could only stare in shock. The Horntail roared, rearing back and inhaling; before it could exhale and immolate Harry, though, he leaped into the air, shooting to the side as though- 'Of course. A Banishing Charm on his robes!'
The dragon tracked his movement, its long neck easily swiveling to follow his progress and launching a hellish stream of fire. The wards surrounding them were, it seemed, one-way as Harry dropped out of view inside a quickly created foxhole, Vanishing several feet of dirt beneath him to avoid the flames.
Five dragon-handlers, perched just outside the wards, were not so lucky. The dragonfire instantly incinerated them, their deaths so quick that not a single cry could be heard. When the mighty creature paused to seek out its target, Harry burst out of the ground riding a stone column to return to Dumbledore's side.
"There's only one left, we can win! Then we deal with Flamel!" he snarled. With one dragon trapped beneath Dumbledore's conjured chains, the other two engaged in an internecine battle following their collision, he understood Harry's impulse.
Several Conjunctivitis Curses impacted the dragon with one scoring a hit on its left eye. "Don't be overconfident. We're playing into their hands by staying - think! This was a trap specifically for you!"
"But-"
"Fawkes!" Nothing happened. No flash of fire, no appearance of the magical firebird. "Fawkes!"
A mournful cry far above them could be faintly heard, and both wizards looked up, catching sight of the phoenix circling above what had to be the ward boundaries.
"You can't escape so easily! You're not the first wizard in history to bond with a phoenix, Albus!"
Rather than reply, Dumbledore raised more earthen barriers to intercept another stream of dragonfire. Sudden flashes lit his peripheral vision, but Harry stopped the spells from the remaining dragon-handlers with a full dozen iron discs.
"Quiritatio!" Everyone on the battlefield save Dumbledore and Flamel cradled their head as his spell created an ear-splitting screech, even the dragons roaring and smashing their heads into the dirt in an attempt to escape the horrific clamor.
'What now?' They'd incapacitated one dragon, and Harry had killed roughly one fourth of the dragon-handlers. The wards were still up, trapping them with the remaining three Horntails, and they had fresh opponents - including a wizard with vastly superior knowledge of magic than either Harry or he could boast - as well as the potential for more enemy reinforcements at any time.
A granite wall the precise height of Dumbledore rose seconds before a massive shockwave burst over the battlefield. As the now-crumbling wall melted away, Dumbledore watched the two dragons that had been battling each other slowly begin to move from their supine positions, rolling themselves back and forth, wings flexing, to try and right themselves.
Ears bleeding from his burst eardrums, Harry grinned and yelled in a too-loud voice, "Concussion attack. Just a simple conjuration of a cloud of-" before being cut off as two spikes, each as long as Dumbledore's forearm, pierced his chest and dragged him airborne.
Perhaps if the two of them hadn't each just employed powerful spells that disoriented them both, either might have noticed the chains binding the downed dragon had disappeared, freeing it from its restraints. At the very least, they likely would have had more warning before Harry was impaled by the dragon's spiked tail and pulled away.
A new round of spells forced Dumbledore to shield and parry. Erecting another wall between him and his opponents, he turned his attention back to the Horntails, seeing Harry flung about, still stuck to the dragon's tail. Whipping the Elder Wand in sweeping circles, a deep rumble sounded as a massive earthen golem, two-thirds as tall as a dragon, formed and immediately grappled with Harry's 'captor'.
Faced with this new threat, the Horntail used all of the weapons at its disposal, including its dangerous tail, which whipped forward - with Harry still dangling - and lashed out at the golem. A quick Summoning Charm dragged the wizard to Dumbledore's side.
"Hold on!" His attempt to seal Harry's wounds were brushed away as the younger man lurched unsteadily to his feet, flickers of gold appearing in his glowing emerald eyes. "Your occlumency, Harry!"
This was the absolute last thing they needed. With Harry deafened, fast losing reason, and his fragile control waning, Dumbledore had only one hope. Gently tapping Harry's torn and bloodied robes, he cast a strong Cushioning Charm before pulling his wand back, swinging it forward like a bat and casting the strongest banisher he could directly at Harry.
Following Harry's trajectory, Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief as Fawkes appeared next to where he landed, the phoenix tilting its head to cry onto Harry's wounds. He'd suspected, after seeing the dragonfire exit the wards to kill the dragon handlers, that such a tactic might work; unfortunately, with the constant attacks, there had been little opportunity for him to test his theory.
"Ever the noble hero, aren't you?" There was a touch of pride in Nicholas's voice. Dumbledore, his own aura flaring, conjured a wave of water that swirled around a dragon, encasing the desperate creature in an inescapable bubble. "You really are so predictable!"
His golem wouldn't last much longer. Casting his Deafening Hex once more, he regarded his former mentor. "You have failed, Nicholas. Harry will survive this day."
"Oh, my dear boy, you are mistaken. While killing Potter would certainly have been a welcome bonus, this trap was not for him," Flamel said, and Dumbledore's eyes widened as he felt a magical presence, heard familiar words whispered, "It was for you."
He had time only to turn around before the Killing Curse left the disillusioned wizard's wand, and Albus Dumbledore knew no more.
"NOOOO!" Harry screamed, watching Dumbledore fall bonelessly to the ground. The dragon-handlers jumped forward and began restraining the dragons, while the disillusioned wizard flickered into view, staring Harry down with a mocking grin on his face. He spared a glance at Dumbledore's body, then looked back to Harry, offering a throat-cutting gesture to the enraged young man.
"I'm going to kill you!" he shouted, slamming his magic against the wards, which trembled in response. Harry loosed a magical shockwave, only he didn't relent at a single 'pulse' as he typically did. Instead, his magic discharged steadily, forming an emerald torrent that smashed into the wards with a deep thrum.
Fawkes landed on his shoulder as the wards winked out of existence, and before Harry could even take a step forward, he was surrounded by a ball of flame. The next instant, he was back at the inn, staring at Daphne's expression of shock and fear.
"Take me back!" he shouted at the phoenix, which hovered in the air just above him. "Take me back now, you ruddy bird!"
"What happened, Harry? Where's Dumbledore?"
"Take me back!" A golden haze was settling over his vision, and his voice sounded strange even to his own ears. "Take. Me. Back. Now."
Fawkes began to sing a quiet melody, a song of sadness and loss. At the same time, two Cheering Charms struck him, back-to-back. "You've got to calm down, Harry! Use your occlumency!"
Taking a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Fawkes' song came to an end, and with a final mournful cry, the phoenix burst into flame and disappeared.
"It was a trap. Flamel set us up. Dumbledore is dead."
Daphne sat heavily down on the bed. "How?"
It took several minutes for him to get through a retelling of what had just happened; Harry had to pause more than once to gather himself and keep calm. "... and before I could do anything else, that bloody phoenix took me away."
"I'm glad he did," Daphne said quietly. "If you hadn't come back when you did, I don't think you would have come back at all. You were right on the edge, Harry."
Her Charm was wearing off. "Somehow, I doubt that I'd have any regrets about killing everyone there."
"And then what? Even if you beat all of them, you'd be dead from magical exhaustion, and I'd be left here, completely alone. We're all each other has," she said, tears welling up in her eyes, "so stop acting like it's just you against the world!"
"I'm sorry, you're right."
"What are we supposed to do now? How are we going to get by without Dumbledore?"
Harry sat down next to her on the bed. "It's going to be okay. We're going back to Britain, to end this once and for all."
"How? Even if we manage to overthrow the puppet Ministry, they're just going to keep coming!" Harry patted her shoulder sympathetically but didn't respond. "Dumbledore could have fixed this, he had- what are we supposed to do now? They're not going to stop until they kill you!"
"People have been trying to kill me since I was a baby," he offered, but that reply sounded flippant even to him.
"Maybe so, but what about Astoria? Or Sirius, or Neville? Do you think you can protect them from the entire Wizarding World?"
Harry's eyes unfocused, and he remembered the image of Sirius' beaten and bloody face. "I don't know." They sat in silence for several long minutes before he spoke again. "We should pack our things and get ready to leave. It's not going to be as easy getting back to Britain as it was leaving it."
"Would- do you think we could wait a little longer?" she asked, wiping away a few tears. "Could you just hold for me for a little while?"
With a hesitant nod, she laid back, pulling him along with her. Harry wrapped her up in his arms, feeling her slight frame tremble with quiet sobs.
He was too disturbed by the battle and the events of the day to think through her words. Dumbledore had been many things to him over the years, and although Harry never felt for him the affection he did for the other people he'd lost in his life, the man's death was still a blow.
There had been a certain assuredness that the powerful wizard carried, a gravitas that offered a great deal of comfort. No matter the scale of the obstacles they faced, Albus Dumbledore never wavered, always had a plan or a strategy ready to enact. Now, with his loss, it felt like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and now he was completely and utterly alone.
"I think that went as well as could be expected, don't you?"
Tuor shrugged, nudging Dumbledore's corpse with his boot. "It is just as I thought. With the proper preparation, Potter is just as vulnerable as any wizard."
Flamel approached, and he regarded his former apprentice's body with a melancholic expression. "Such a shame, but then, Albus always was a stubborn man." He reached down, lifting Dumbledore's wand and holding it out. "Here, this belongs to you now."
"What? Why?"
"Just take it," Flamel insisted.
Tuor's fingers wrapped around the handle, and a rush of power flowed up his arm, running through his entire body. "What- what is this?"
"You won it through combat. It is your wand now," Flamel said, wearing an amused grin. "What will you do now?"
Stil marveling at the unusual wand, Tuor didn't reply for a long moment. "I'm to escort the dragon-handlers back to Romania."
"I see. Very well. Be careful with that wand, it may take some time for you to adjust to its power."
"I don't understand, what is so special about this wand? I've never felt so- so…"
"It has many names, but that wand has carved a path of immense influence through history. In the right hands, legend says its wielder is unbeatable."
"Really," Tuor responded, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Yes, indeed. Such is the legend of the Wand of Destiny."
"You mean, this is the- the Elder Wand? It truly exists?"
Flamel smiled, turning away to return to his home. "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate you making haste in getting those dragons off my property."
October 22, 1996
The sun was setting, casting lengthy shadows over the high walls of the settlement. Two aurors stood, chatting idly, lazily leaning against the gates.
"I thought that it was the French that brought the muggleborns back? Why are the Americans guarding it?"
Tom shrugged at Amos Diggory's questions. "It was the French that escorted them here, as well as to Diagon Alley for their shopping. I had thought for sure they'd be providing protection here."
"What do you think?" asked Lord Shafiq. "Should we continue?"
It had been a sound plan, at least from his perspective. There was a large degree of public outrage against the French aurors following the violence in Diagon Alley; the Ministry's confiscation of the former Malfoy estate to house muggles had been seen in an increasingly unpopular light following that event. Attacking the French guards would have certainly brought more favor to the resistance.
"We came to strike a blow against the occupation, and that's what we'll do. Allow the one on our left to summon reinforcements. Does everyone have their portkeys ready?" He waited for the nods from the dozen men with him. "Then cast your glamours and let's begin. Confringo!"
The gates exploded, showering the unsuspecting Americans with debris. Two Killing Curses impacted the guard on the right, and the other didn't even bother raising his wand before apparating away.
"Spread out! Their reinforcements will be arriving soon."
Tom's words were proved accurate when not even five minutes later, twenty-five aurors appeared, and the battle was well and truly joined. Curses lanced out in all directions, screams of pain and shouts of fury sounded from both sides.
Casting a wide-angle dark cutting curse, Tom sidestepped a Reductor and jabbed his yew and dragon heartstring wand forward, caving in an American's shield with a bludgeoner moments before a Blood-Boiling Curse hit the man dead-center. Erecting a strong shield of his own, Tom evaluated the two sides; Lord Perks was down, cut in half, and Lord Macmillan had been disarmed and injured, determinedly crawling towards his wand despite a broken leg. On the other side, eight Americans had fallen.
It was enough; they'd bloodied their opponents, it was time to leave before this victory transformed into defeat. "Nebula Tenebris!"
A thick, impenetrable fog flowed out of his wand, flowing over the battlefield and obscuring all of the combatants. With that signal, Tom's forces grasped their portkeys, whispering the activation phrase and vanishing from sight.
Susan stared at her reflection in the mirror, fingering the oversized robes that Lady Nott had provided her. She'd outgrown the maternity wear that she'd received from the Abbotts several months back; she felt as big as a house now, just a few days shy of her eighth month of pregnancy. She could tell from the changing and falling leaves on the trees outside that autumn had arrived and was steadily advancing towards winter.
Sara Nott had told her that she'd had a social engagement she couldn't avoid, so it was just her in the mansion, leaving her alone with Rookwood. The Death Eater saw fit to ignore her, having spoken all of three or four words to her since her imprisonment began. She ate a spartan dinner, a thin soup with a few pieces of bread under his watch before retiring to her room.
Not for the first time, Susan moved closer to the large window, staring out onto the grounds and to the dots of light further beyond. The windows lacked the threatening wards that the first floor had, whether that was because Tom didn't believe her suicidal enough to jump, or so that she might open and close them for fresh air she couldn't say.
Would Harry ever come back? What was going on outside this house? It seemed so unbelievable that nothing could have changed during such a lengthy stretch of time. Reaching into her robes, Susan fingered the piece of string around her neck, grasping the smooth round stone secured in the twine.
Spinning it between her fingers three times, she whispered, "Harry Potter." Just like every night before, nothing happened. He was still out there, still-
The doorknob jiggled, and a muffled "Alohamora" could be heard through the door, a second before it opened.
"What do you want?"
Octavius Nott, an oily smile on his face, stepped inside. "I just wanted to enjoy your company for a little while."
"Get out!"
He looked between her and the wand he still held. "I think not; not until we've had some fun, at least."
Susan barely had time to scream as he crossed the room in quick strides, grabbing hold of her hair and forcing his mouth over hers. She pushed at him, but his grip was strong and he did not relent until she bit his lip as hard as she could, spitting his blood in his face as he pulled back.
"Get off of me!"
"I could just immobilize you with a spell, but seeing you struggle makes it that much better," he hissed in obvious excitement, tearing at her robes. "I've been waiting for this for months!"
She pushed at him, clawing and hitting him with all her strength. Stars exploded in her vision when his fist caught her in the temple, and she collapsed heavily to the floor. Stunned by his blow, she couldn't resist as Nott easily lifted Susan onto the bed, completing the job of removing her already torn robes, jerking open her blouse in the next moment.
"What is going on here?!" Both Susan and Nott turned to the door, seeing Rookwood looking in.
"Get out of here, Augustus, this doesn't concern you."
"Step away from the girl, Nott," the other man ordered, drawing his wand. "You know our lord's orders; she is not to be harmed."
Nott raised himself off the bed, his own wand raised and ready. "It was just a little fun, I'd make sure she wouldn't remember it once I'd finished."
"I will report your disloyalty when our lord returns. This will not go unpunished."
"You'll have no recollection of this, either! Stupefy!"
Rookwood parried the spell, sending his own in reply and a duel ensued in the cramped bedroom. Susan crawled off the bed, trying to avoid deflected spells as the two men fought.
It was apparent that Nott was the superior fighter; barely two minutes into the battle, Rookwood had already been struck by two spells and was barely keeping his shield in place. Nott, with a vicious grin on his face, looked in her direction. "I'll be with you in just a moment, dear." A Disarming Charm shot towards him, but Nott deflected it upward to the ceiling, reflexively firing off a bludgeoner in reply.
Only that spell had not come from Rookwood's wand. A shadowed figure stepped forward from the hallway, walking into the room at a slow, steady pace.
"You dare to raise your wand against me?" Tom Riddle asked, his quiet tones laced with fury and outrage. "To defy my orders is sin enough, but you cast a spell in anger against me. What am I to do about this, Octavius?"
"M-milord!" Nott stuttered, all color vanishing from his face. He threw his wand to the floor, falling to his knees, prostrating himself before Riddle. "I did not know it was you, milord! I swear it!"
Riddle's furious visage did shift at all from Nott's begging. In fact, his anger seemed only to grow, and Susan watched in horror as a visible aura flared around him, filling the room with crimson light. "I saved you from Azkaban, rescued you from certain death, and this is the loyalty you show?" Silver light shot out of his wand, and Nott's arm tumbled to the floor.
She knew. The moment that his aura appeared, Susan knew. She'd seen this before, after all, in Harry's memories of the Battle of Dunfield. There was only one man with a crimson aura. Everything that Theo had said in September suddenly fell into place. She wasn't being kept prisoner by Tom Riddle; she - and Harry's child within her - had been held prisoner by Lord Voldemort!
Nott screamed under the Dark Lord's Cruciatus, but it cut out after twenty or so seconds, followed up with dark red flames that roasted the Death Eater, burning away his flesh and melting his eyes in their sockets.
"Couldn't have you bleeding out so soon, Octavius. We're just getting started, after all," Tom - Voldemort, she reminded herself - said, walking in a slow circle around the moaning and sobbing man. "This is going to be the longest night of your life."
A Bone-Splintering Hex impacting his lower back, and Nott screamed and convulsed on the floor. His cries of pain were so loud that no one turned in her direction as Susan stretched her arm, reaching out and grasping the wand that he'd thrown to the side when the Dark Lord arrived.
She could feel it was a poor match, but it was all she had. Pointing the wand at the window she'd stared out less than fifteen minutes before, Susan jumped to her feet and ran as swiftly as she could, shouting "Reducto!" and jumping out the hole that exploded around the window's frame. A quick Cushioning Charm softened her fall, and Susan ran towards the copse of trees bordering the Riddle property, her Shield Charm flickering unsteadily as Stupefying Charms impacted it.
There were men chasing her, that much was obvious from the changed trajectory of the incoming spells sizzling around her, but Susan didn't look back and didn't stop. The moment that she felt the oppressive feel of the house's ward pass over her, she spun in place, apparating away with a loud crack!
A/N: Did you all really think I was going let Harry have a positive relationship with a mentor? Hahaha!
The plot's going to be pushing forward, time-wise, from here on out. We're right on the verge of the 'main' conflict for Harry.
Hope everyone's enjoying the ride. Fun fact - with this chapter, I officially have published more than 500,000 words on FFN in less than one year. Hot damn! I'm rather impressed with myself, if you'll grant me leave for that immodesty. I really need to get a life ;)
Until next time,
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles
