In the last chapter: Voldemort's plans for the next year are set into motion. Phil and Harry keep in touch. Harry has a vision of Voldemort talking to Barty about the Triwizard Tournament. Harry finds out he if Voldemort's most recent Horcrux. Harry gets invited to the Quidditch World Cup by Ginny. Harry finally combines all of the Horcruxes together into the locket.
Halfway through the last month of summer holiday, Harry was sent through the floo to the Weasley residence—so endearingly dubbed the 'burrow'—the night before the Quidditch World Cup. The stacked, lop-sided house was lively with a bustling pack of Weasleys when Harry stepped through. It was such a contrast to Grimmauld Place with his guardians that Harry just stood there for several solid seconds as his brain tried to quickly figure out what to do next. Before he had enough time to do just that, he was spotted by Mrs. Weasley and pulled into another uncomfortably 'familial' hug like the one he'd been given at his birthday celebration.
As soon as the hug ended, he was swept away into the kitchen and pushed down into a seat at the table, across from what he could only assume to be the two eldest Weasley children. Mrs. Weasley soon disappeared, leaving Harry alone to introduce himself to the others, though she could be heard berating the twins the next floor up for their mischief.
The burrow was in constant motion as people went up and down the stairs, weaving around each other in the small space with natural ease, nicking bits of food while Mrs. Weasley wasn't there to see it. At one point, Harry even saw Hermione and Ginny, but they were only passing through and were discussing something with ducked heads, conspiring smiles, and faintly pink cheeks. Harry had caught bits that sounded suspiciously like the names of a few of the quidditch players Sirius had tried to teach him about since finding out that he'd be going to the World Cup. They gave him a brief greeting, then disappeared back upstairs with their stolen snacks in hand.
Harry didn't mind, though, because his attention was caught by the two eldest Weasley brothers. William—who insisted on being called 'Bill'—and Charlie. Harry knew vague details about them from what Ginny had told him, but he was eager to discuss more with them now that they were there.
Bill worked as a renowned curse-breaker who traveled all over the world for his work, freelancing with most of his work coming from various goblin banks and government establishments. Harry had been fascinated to hear about some of the more obscure curses Bill had come across and how he was able to break them without having the counter-curse most needed to get rid of a curse without fulfilling it. Bill was soft spoken and a little closed off, but exceedingly polite and definitely someone very easy to like.
Charlie was more of a half-way point between the twins and Bill, personality wise. He was just as kind and polite, but clearly an extrovert and had undoubtedly spent quite some time in the past as a prankster just like his brothers. That mischievous and calculating glint in his eye was something he saw almost exclusively with the twins and Sirius—notorious pranksters that they are.
Charlie worked as a 'dragonologist' studying dragons at a preserve in Romania. Although Bill clearly enjoyed his work, Charlie seemed to be the one that lived for his work. It was clear after only a few minutes of conversation that the younger of the two was devoted to his career and had that same sense of fascination for dangerous creatures as Hagrid seemed to have. While chatting, Harry couldn't help but think of the Gringotts dragon that he'd laid to rest while retrieving Helga's cup.
Harry didn't regret what he'd done—if given the chance to go back, he would have done the same thing all over again—but he did regret that it had been necessary in the first place.
Weighed down by his own thoughts, Harry didn't contribute much to the conversation. He just nodded and threw in a brief question here and there, but Charlie did well enough on his own. Clearly, he was excited to finally have an open ear that hadn't already heard everything he had to say. Bill had listened along for a while, contributing a little as well, but eventually he was enlisted by Mrs. Weasley to set up tables in the back yard for dinner, leaving Harry and Charlie to it. So, Harry just listened and only interrupted when something Charlie said caught his attention.
"Dragons are truly fascinating creatures! They have a universal hierarchal system for all dragons. Dragons are especially territorial creatures, but in order to keep from going extinct through fights for dominance among themselves, they've adapted an instinctual hierarchy to 'keep the peace' as they say. Spanning across all species of dragon, it is simply intuitive for them to know who is stronger than them, and who is weaker." That bit drew Harry back on topic.
"You say that as though dragons will never turn on each other. I've read before that certain species can be particularly vicious and can even become cannibalistic with their prey." Harry left the statement open, knowing that he didn't really know much about dragons and could easily be wrong.
"Ah! Yes, but there's something those books probably didn't mention. The only dragons that will act outside of the hierarchy—or even ignore it completely—are female dragons. Specifically, nesting or pregnant female dragons. As I mentioned earlier dragon populations have been on the decline, which has brought on these atypical behaviors in order to protect the young as much as possible. In fact, that is used as one of the most harmless ways to get close to a dragon in order to treat or study it! Wizards have come up with a synthetic scent that simulates the scent of dragon offspring, which allows them to get close enough without being dismembered." It was rare that Harry came across someone who could talk so inconsequentially about dismemberment.
The Weasleys are certainly an interesting bunch. . .
"That seems like a rather simple solution to the supposed 'threat' that dragons seem to pose to wizards, why are they still considered so dangerous then?" Harry inquired, thinking back once again to the Gringotts dragon and how the thought of that creature facing such cruelty when it might not have even been that effective of a defense, caused something sharp akin to dread twist in his gut.
"Oh no, don't get me wrong, dragons are still plenty dangerous! Not only is this . . . 'potion' let's call it, extremely expensive and difficult to make, but it is still a great risk to the user. If the wizard can get close enough to the dragon to be scented without being harmed, then they're golden, but most dragon's sense of smell is not very good and they can easily kill you if they don't smell you first. You have to get fairly close to be scented. It's not much of a problem in the preserve, because of the magical and physical barriers, but in the wild there's no guarantee of safety."
Harry was in the middle of thinking on what Charlie had said, when their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley calling everyone out to dinner. Sandwiched between Hermione and Ginny at the dinner table, Harry didn't really have another chance after that to chat with the two elder Weasley brothers, as he was either pulled into a conversation with the girls on either side of him, being relentlessly questioned by Arthur about different muggle peculiarities, or being interrogated by Ronald about his life as the Boy Who Lived.
The last was Harry's least favorite part of the meal. Harry so rarely interacted with those outside of his circle that it sometimes caught him off guard when people treated him like the 'Savior,' a role he thought he'd done a fairly good job of shedding up until that point. However, it wasn't so hard because, during Ronald's inquiry, it became quite clear that his interest was completely impersonal and Harry didn't often get hung up on the opinions of strangers. Not when it was obvious that they had no interest in knowing the truth. And Harry was not typically generous enough to correct the mistakes of others.
It did come as quite an annoyance later, though, when Harry was made to share a room with Ronald because his was the only one open—Percy was adamant about having his room to himself. Harry wished he could have spent the night at home and then simply come early the next morning, but Sirius and Remus were pushing him to step outside of his 'comfort zone' and he secretly suspects that they wanted a night to themselves. With Remus teaching at the school last year, him and Sirius only really got to spend time together this summer and Harry wasn't really one to venture out of the house often, which left little time truly alone for themselves.
Harry thought it was only fair to give them these next two nights to themselves.
Thankfully, Ronald didn't try to talk to Harry again as they prepared for bed and the night ended early and as silently as one can in a house full of so many occupants. As Harry lie in the darkened room under the worn quilt blanket that had been provided him, his fingers automatically tugged gently on the thin but sturdy chain around his neck until the heated metal locket was in his grasp. Clutched in one hand, Harry felt himself finally relax into the unfamiliar bed, taking comfort in the action he'd become accustomed to since combining all the Horcruxes earlier that summer.
Harry was awoken by the pained groans of the room's other occupant, who had just been woken up himself by Ginny. When she saw Harry lift his head, she decided to give up on trying to communicate with her half-asleep brother and instead talk to Harry.
"Mum sent me to wake you guys up, breakfast is down stairs. You shoulder hurry, though, because we'll be leaving soon." Harry nodded and waited until the youngest Weasley left before getting out of bed. Harry ignored the early morning chill in the room that seemed to come from an ever-present draft, and got dressed as quickly as he could to avoid losing too much heat.
By the time Harry was ready to go downstairs, Ronald had just sat up and was blinking the sleep from his dazed eyes. If it was Anthony or Draco, Harry probably would have waited or even tried to help his friends wake up a little more by talking to them. However, this wasn't his friend, so Harry just left him, figuring that if he was sitting up he was less likely to fall back asleep.
Turns out, Harry was wrong.
Ron came half-running, half-falling down the stairs as Arthur was pulling on his coat and telling everyone to prepare to leave. The young redhead had hair plastered to one side of his sheet-creased face and his clothes looked like they were haplessly tugged on mere seconds ago—which they probably were.
When their little troop left the Burrow, Harry took to walking behind Hermione and Ginny, not really feeling comfortable enough to talk to the others. It was only Harry, the girls, Ronald, the twins, and Mr. Weasley. The two eldest Weasley brothers would be apparating to them a little later. Harry knew that they were going to one of the two hundred portkeys that had been placed all over Britain to transport people to the World Cup, and the prospect of using a portkey did not sit well with Harry. Personally, he much preferred apparation—he was far more practiced at it and less likely to fall flat on his face—but, for obvious reasons, he couldn't let anyone know about that little achievement of his.
Eventually, they came across Amos Diggory, who worked in the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and his son, Cedric. Harry knew more about Cedric than he did Amos. Cedric was a seventh-year seeker and prefect for Hufflepuff and as far as Harry knew, rather popular. Not that Harry really needed any prior knowledge on the boy, since Amos immediately dove into bragging about all of the many accomplishments of his son—much to said Hufflepuff's embarrassment.
Knowing it would be a long walk and not really having any interest in the conversation between Ginny and Hermione—which fell more along the lines of blushing and gushing about the attractiveness of the young Hufflepuff in their midst—Harry decided to distract Cedric from the spectacle his father was making by striking up a polite conversation. For all of Cedric's popularity, he was rather soft spoken and seemed to do better with one on one interaction. Harry was surprised by how shy he seemed, but then again, he truly didn't know him. Either way, Cedric seemed to latch onto Harry's calm acquaintanceship and stick near him even when the conversation lulled comfortably into silence.
They eventually arrived at the portkey—which, much to Harry's disdain, happened to be a dirty old boot at the crown of a hill. They all circled around it and touched some part of the grimy surface. Mr. Weasley checked his pocket watch one last time and warned everyone that they only had a few moments left before it activated.
Cedric, who was right beside Harry, turned to him with anticipation dancing in his grey eyes. "You ready?" He asked Harry, sounding a little breathless as they waited, only seconds left now. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the spinning, dizzying, nauseating magic of the portkey activating. The breath was stolen from his lungs and he wasn't prepared when Mr. Weasley told them all to let go. Harry pulled back like he'd been burned and was spit out onto unfamiliar grass.
Harry winced at the various dull aches smarting all over his body from the rough landing as he pushed up onto his elbows. He wouldn't bruise or anything, it just didn't feel great at the time. He sat up more fully just in time to see the graceful landing of Arthur, Amos, and Cedric, who had far more experience with portkeys than him.
Cedric walked up to Harry, immediately helped him up and brushed the errant grass from his shoulders.
"All right?" He asked, glancing Harry over to make sure he hadn't broken anything. Harry refrained from rolling his eyes.
"Fine, just not used to portkeys is all." Harry answered lightly, almost outwardly cringing when he heard the petulant and indignant complaints from Ronald, who refused to be helped up by a cackling pair of twins. Cedric nodded and smiled at him, glancing over when Ron's temper got the best of him and huffed lightly under his breath at the display.
Amos called out to Cedric, planning to go their own way from there on. Cedric offered Harry a quick goodbye and hurried off after his father.
Lingering at the back of the group of Weasleys, Harry silently took in the chaotic festivities of the grounds outside the stadium. Actually, it reminded Harry a lot of the huge football games Vernon and Dudley would watch on the telly. The masses of people in face/body paint, fancy dress, and toting around various signs and banners and flags. The grounds were raucous with the bellowed and taunting chants that everyone seemed to already know, ranging from rude to downright incomprehensible.
Walking through, every three meters seemed to have another witch or wizard that was selling something: team merchandise, flags, face painting, food, noise makers, rattlers, horns, and plenty of alcohol. The crowds were so thick, Harry was almost separated from the group twice. Aligned in relatively neat rows were hundreds—perhaps thousands—of magically expanded tents. A sea of billowing green and red fabrics, with more neutral colors between.
They came to a tent rather far from the stadium and everyone piled in. The expanded tent reminded Harry a lot of the Burrow with its homey, warm, and lived-in décor. The game wouldn't be starting until after sunset, so they still had the rest of the day to partake in all the revelries.
The twins were quick to drop their stuff off and scurry out of the tent to begin spending the money they had saved up on Merlin knows what was being sold out there. Ronald had his nose buried in a quidditch magazine. Ginny and Hermione were sitting on one of the bunks, chatting quietly to themselves. And Arthur announced to the tent as a whole that he was going off to go meet Charlie and Bill and then get some water to bring back to the tent. Which left Harry to his own devices.
'Do you think anyone would mind if I went off on my own?' Harry absently asked, looking at the canvas flaps of the tent in bored contemplation. His companion chuckled from over his shoulder.
'Perhaps, but as long as you return before the match no one can really be aggrieved.'
Harry pursed his lips for a moment, before following the twins example and heading back out into the pandemonium.
He didn't really have a preference for teams, but he knew he needed to don some sort of team colors to avoid whatever the more . . . enthusiastic members of the Weasley family had in store for him later. So, walking down one of the wider channels of traffic, Harry eyed some of the merchandise being sold. However, soon Harry found himself less concerned with which team the items supported and more with finding something less ridiculous. Harry was not invested enough for face paint, nor would he ever consider any of the many atrocious hats that seemed to hold true to the notion that 'bigger is better' even if Harry didn't agree.
After almost an hour of aimless wandering, Harry finally spotted a simple red and black striped scarf that seemed to be the last one on a man's small table of goods. When he paid, Harry knew it was outrageously overpriced, but he honestly didn't care at that point. Lifeline finally draped loosely over Harry's shoulders, the teen continued his walk at a more sedate pace.
Harry had almost reached the stadium again and was about to turn around and head back to the tent, when a familiar face caught his eye in the crowd heading towards the enormous structure. Curious, Harry followed at a distance behind the Auror. Philias Green's form disappeared into one of the stadiums' many entrances. The stadium was currently open, but it was too early for anyone but the truly obsessed fans to wander in, and Harry didn't see Philias as that big of a fan.
Harry entered the Stadium after Philias and followed for a while until the Auror made his way out to a row of cheap empty seats low to the ground. When Harry sat next to Philias, the Auror gave him a shocked and worried look.
"I didn't peg you for much of a quidditch fan, Mr. Green." Harry said casually, watching what he suspected to be the Bulgarian team practicing high above them.
"Harry! What the hell are you doing here?" Philias asked in a hushed and panicked tone. Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced at the man beside him.
"I was invited by a friend, why?" Harry grew more serious as the shock faded from Philias and the worry left there was genuine. Something was wrong.
"You can't be here!" Harry finally looked at him, giving him his full attention. Harry put a silencing charm up around them.
"What's happened?" His voice was severe and left no room for anything but straight forward answers.
"It's not what's happened, it's what will happen. Tonight, there's supposed to be a Death Eater raid, here, after the game. Which means you really shouldn't be here!" Philias was looking around them wildly, as if a Death Eater would pop out at any moment and kill them both. Harry frowned.
"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Harry's voice had a hard edge to it, but Philias didn't seem to notice.
"Because, I didn't know about it until a few hours ago!" Philias shot back. "These Death Eaters are acting independently, they still don't know about the Dark Lord's return. They're apparently upset about the reinstatement of the Triwizard Tournament, something about not wanting to better the relationships between outside countries as it could mean foreign allies against any of their future attacks. They think that this might scare the competing countries away, but the tournament is a done deal, the contracts have been drawn up and there's no backing out now. Ridiculous, really." Philias scoffed at the end, rolling his eyes.
"So, if Voldemort isn't a part of this, then what are you doing here, trying to stop it?" Harry asked skeptically, doubting that either Voldemort or the Death Eater beside him would really care about a raid at a sporting event.
"No, they can't know about my involvement and it would only drive them to do something more idiotic later on! The only reason I wasn't found out during the Death Eater hunts a decade ago as some sort of plea bargain for another Death Eater, is because I was deep undercover and none of the other Death Eaters knew about me. I don't want to risk that yet. So, instead I'm here to turn this to our advantage. I'm going to up the fear-part of it and hopefully scare one person in particular into action." Harry's brows drew together in puzzlement at the last part.
"How so?" Philias smirked at Harry and he felt that this was more of the man's 'Death Eater' side.
"Dumbledore's been on the fence about inviting a certain Ex-Auror friend of his to teach DADA this upcoming year and we think that a bit of a scare might help him make his decision." Philias didn't have to say who he was talking about, it took a moment, but soon it clicked for Harry the meaning behind the man's words.
"The one Barty's going to impersonate in order to get close to me." Harry said knowingly. He and Philias had been talking about Voldemort and Barty's movements all summer, it didn't take much work on Philias' end to find out who Barty had kidnapped and impersonated the most.
Philias nodded.
"What about Lucius? I know that he and his family are here—or will be here later—will he be a part of the raid?" Harry asked, curious to know the answer, what with Draco and Anthony being with him.
"No, he has no idea about the raid. Apparently, a few Death Eaters didn't want to involve him because of you. It's no secret that you and his son are close friends and he has been publicly seen offering you help and being friendly. Some are worried about his loyalties."
Harry nodded to himself. Good, one less thing for Harry to worry about.
"Now that I've answered your questions, it's time to get you out of here. I can apparate you once we leave the stadium." Philias began to stand up but Harry made no move to leave.
"I'm afraid I can't leave yet Mr. Green. As I said before, I came here with several friends and have been seen by many people already. If I left before the game even begun, people would get suspicious and wonder if I knew about the raid beforehand. Contrary to what you might believe, popular opinion of me is not exactly trusting nor is it forgiving. Being invited to the World Cup—and into the Minister's Top Box no less—is no small thing, it's not as though I can just feign a headache and ask that everyone go home, and I will not leave my friends here alone during the raid. Besides, you, more than anybody, know that I am not exactly fragile and will be just fine. So, Mr. Green, why don't you go about your business, relax, enjoy the game if you can, and stop worrying about me." Harry warned without any real bite in his tone.
Harry cancelled the silencing charm and stood just as the Bulgarian quidditch team were descending on their brooms, finished practicing and making way for the Irish team. The low seats weren't good for viewing the game itself, but it did mean that they were very close when the Bulgarians landed. That fact wouldn't have mattered to Harry normally, but when he glanced over at the group of red and black uniforms, Harry was stopped from leaving by the gaze of one player in particular that was watching him.
He looked a little younger than the other players, but he was still an intimidating sight with his tall stature, broad shoulders, lean muscle, and piercing gaze. The team was loitering on the field, catching their breath and rehydrating, giving the young man plenty of time to watch them. And he was looking right at Harry and Philias. Philias followed Harry's line of sight to the only person who seemed to notice them. Harry cleared his throat, drawing Philias' attention back to him.
"I don't much appreciate an audience to my private affairs. If you stick around, keep an eye on that one." Harry glanced back at the quidditch player, their eyes met and the elder's gaze narrowed slightly. "I have a feeling he sees too much." And with that Philias nodded, stepped out of Harry's way, and followed the teen back into the bulk of the stadium.
When Harry returned, Arthur didn't even seem to have noticed his absence, which was good for Harry. Hermione, however, did and he received a thorough reprimand from the young witch.
The twins were busy painting each other's faces green, while Ronald had gotten significantly further in his magazine and had acquired some red and black face paint of his own while Harry was away. Bill and Charlie had shown up and were chatting about something while sipping at their frothy green ales. All in all, Harry hadn't missed much in his absence.
Though, when Ron finally did look up from his magazine and saw Harry's scarf, he gave him a wide grin and tried to pull Harry into talking about the different players on the team—with an especial kind of attention on the seeker, Viktor Krum—but Harry was quick admit he didn't really know anything about either team. Unfortunately, that only made Ron set down his magazine to 'enlighten' Harry to the wonders of the Bulgarian National Quidditch team.
Harry was only released when it was finally time to make their way to the stadium. As soon as they entered the inner part of the stadium, Harry could feel the thunderous cheers vibrating through the cement under his feet. The same chants he'd heard out on the grounds echoed. It was like nothing he'd ever witnessed before. They soon began their ascent to the Ministers Box, which was all the way at the top and set perfectly between the two goal posts.
It was a long way up, but halfway, the Weasleys ran into the Malfoys and Harry was glad to have the rest of his group of friends together again. He liked Hermione just fine, but Hermione seemed a little distracted by the other gender at the moment to have fulfilling conversations with Harry like they usually did. The Malfoy lord and lady greeted Harry politely, but ignored the redheaded troop altogether and vice versa, which was probably the closest to 'civil' as they were going to get.
When they finally reached the Top Box, it was clear that there wouldn't be many more joining them, just the Ministers for Britain and Bulgaria, the commentator, a few officials from the Bulgarian Ministry, and a small security team for each Minister. Harry hid a smirk when he saw Philias as one of the two Aurors in the box watching Cornelius Fudge. While the 'adults reacquainted' Harry was able to take a step back and speak discreetly with Philias.
"What a coincidence, Mr. Green." Harry remarked with a small smile on his face, looking out into the stadium without glancing at the man next to him. When Philias spoke, Harry could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Yes well, one of the appointed Aurors suddenly fell ill and I suppose it was a rather fortunate coincidence that I happened to be attending this year's World Cup." The willful innocence in his voice almost made Harry laugh aloud. Suddenly, the entire stadium exploded with roars as the Irish quidditch team came soaring over the lip of the stadium with all of the fireworks and fanatics as were expected. Harry looked at the hidden Death Eater next to him with something conspiring behind his eyes.
"Careful, Mr. Green, or someone might realize you are not much of a quidditch fan." Philias' only reply was a raised eyebrow right before Harry moved over to the railing where his friends were cheering.
Draco shouted over the noise, chattering on about how he'd personally met the entire Irish team and received one on one advice from their seeker. Anthony wasn't impressed—being that he was a bigger fan of the Bulgarian team—but neither boy told the young blonde to stuff it. In a blur of red and black, the other team swept onto the scene with just as much dramatics as the first.
The masses only erupted into more chaos when the Bulgarian team's mascots—a group of Veela women—came out and began cheering on their team. All around, men seemed to move closer and cheer louder as they fell under the Veela's allure. Ronald nearly climbed over the railing as he drooled and the twins had to hold him back. The adults were far better at controlling themselves, but even Draco and Anthony stared fixed on the beautiful women, eyes wide and glazed as they inched closer.
Harry didn't fully understand it. Sure, he could see how beautiful them women were, but it certainly didn't consume him like it did the others. He didn't dwell on why he might not be affected in the same way, since Harry already knew that he was different from most his age. For one thing, most his age did not converse regularly with Death, nor could they say that they were immortal like he. Harry's circumstances were just different, and perhaps that meant that he wouldn't feel the same things or act the same way as his peers. Or maybe it had nothing to do with any of that and he was simply not attracted to them.
The allure didn't last long as the game was kicked off and everyone became refocused on the players.
Harry knew from his own experiences playing quidditch that the game could be absolutely brutal, but professional quidditch was something else entirely. There were less crashes and haplessly ramming into each other, and far more calculated, dangerous moves. Halfway through the game, Harry realized that the world class Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum, was the very same player that had been watching him and Philias earlier. It was then rather easy to get Ronald to tell Harry what he knew about the young man. Harry was surprised to find out that he was younger than he'd thought—only seventeen and still a student at Durmstrang. Harry kept a close eye on him.
Eventually the game ended with Viktor catching the golden snitch, even though the Irish had racked up enough points to win by then. The twins were overjoyed, apparently having won some kind of bet. Ronald was morose, but still happy to have been able to see the Bulgarians play. Everyone else seemed anxious and excited for both teams to visit the Ministers Box for the award ceremony. That seemed to be the time for everyone else outside of the Top Box to leave, the masses slowly trickling back out onto the grounds for post-game celebrations.
Harry once again found himself stepping back from everything and watching with mild amusement. The teams entered a few minutes later and Viktor was immediately snatched from his group and pulled to the Bulgarian Ministers' side so that the raucous man could boast about his young star. Harry would have laughed when Fudge did the same, except that Fudge didn't grab one of the Irish players, instead he guided Harry up to the little group and proudly introduced the famous Harry Potter!
Harry was flushed and incredibly uncomfortable with the attention. Which, ironically, seemed to have been Viktor's exact reaction until he'd spotted Harry and his attention was devoted solely to him, occasionally flicking to Philias in the background. Harry did his best no to react to the scrutinizing, penetrative gaze and focus only on the idle chatter between Ministers. Harry was eventually able to dismiss himself when it looked like the others from his group were ready to leave.
Harry was grateful for the chance to escape. If there was one thing he'd learned over the years since joining this world, it was that Harry much preferred silently watching from that shadows, rather than being in the lime light. He'd spent enough time already trying to disappear into the stitch work of society and become inconspicuous.
The whole way back to their tent, Harry was on edge. Sneaking glances around as he waited for the raid to begin. The celebrations were so loud that it was hard to tell the difference between screams of joy and screams of terror. They were supposed to spend the night in the tent and then return to the Burrow in the morning. Harry knew that they wouldn't be staying the night, but without knowing the exact time that the raid would start, he began to worry that it would be hours still.
He entertained himself for a while just talking to the others, but eventually he grew tired of that and just receded into himself as he waited. He wasn't worried about drawing suspicion, since it was almost expected at this point for Harry to retreat into his own mind when around so many people for so long. Harry just hoped that the plan would have its desired effect and Dumbledore would bring the Ex-Auror in. Now if only it would start before everyone started going to bed!
Harry knew the exact moment the raid had started, since he was the only one listening so closely to what was going on outside. Mr. Weasley had left only a few minutes prior to go talk to Amos about something, so it was just a tent full of minors and two—intoxicated—adults. So, it wasn't much of a surprise when the screams went unnoticed by the others.
Harry pulled on a mask of concern and slight fear as he stood from where he'd sat closest to the tent opening. Moving over to the rowdy group, Harry spoke above them to get their attention.
"Something's wrong! That doesn't sound like people enjoying themselves anymore." When they registered what Harry had said and the scrunched look on his face, everyone was finally quiet for the first time all night as they listened. Sure enough, the music and chants had disappeared and been replaced by the sound of roaring fire, rapidly thudding feet, and petrified shrieks.
Bill and Charlie shot upright just as the eldest Weasley burst into the tent with wide, frightened eyes and told them what was going on outside; they were under attack. They grabbed their absolute essentials—wands, shrunken bags, etc.—and Mr. Weasley did the one thing Harry had been hoping he wouldn't. Split them up.
"Alright, Charlie and Bill, you two come with me. We're going to do what we can to help. Everyone else, you need to get back to the boot as quickly as possible. I won't be far behind, then we'll go back to the Burrow. Fred, George, make sure to look after your little sister. Be careful!" With that, the three eldest left and the others scrambled out of the faux safety of the tent and into the chaos.
It was completely disorienting, the smell of smoke choked the air from the many tents set ablaze and people were sprinting between the tents like the frantic stampede of prey animals, crushing anything in its path. Harry had come out last and only had a moment to register his surroundings before he had to snap out of it and run after his already moving group. Even at a run, Harry was a little behind the others, not that anyone noticed in the rush of things. Harry really didn't want to get separated from the group, but it was looking more and more likely as he was bumped and elbowed and shoved in other people's careless fleeing.
He could hear the explosions all around him, knew that the Death Eaters were close and it would not be good if any of them saw and recognized him. The whole point of him even being here during the raid was to stick with the Weasleys and make sure none of them got seriously hurt. The crowds were finally beginning to thin out when something caught Harry's eye and stopped him in his tracks. The group of wild red hair disappeared from his peripheral, but they were close enough to the edge of the grounds and the tree line that it wouldn't be long until they reached the boot, he would be close behind them.
What had caught his attention was a familiar dark tangle of thick curls only several meters to his left. Harry stood there and watched as Bellatrix Lestrange seemed to sense his gaze, stopped, and slowly turned around. When their eyes connected, the witch's lips pulled up into a manic grin, a wicked light sparking in her eyes that was seen all the way from where Harry stood. Bellatrix lifted her hand that didn't hold a wand and slowly waved in what was no more than a tiddling of her fingers.
She was just standing there, not making any move towards him. But just then, Harry's shoulder was knocked painfully back as one of the last stragglers zoomed passed carelessly. His eyes only left the witch for a moment, but when he looked back, she was gone. Harry wasn't naive though, he knew she hadn't just left him on his own. Just as he thought this, a long arm snaked across his chest from behind and pulled him back against the front of what he knew to be Bellatrix. Her other hand came up on his other side and slid up to his neck. Strangely enough, the touches were gentle—tender, even—and the position of the hand around his neck should have been threatening, but it was too loose to be anything but Bellatrix's twisted form of an embrace.
"Oh, Harry darling, how I've missed you! And look how you've grown! Turning into quite the handsome young man, yet still such a pretty thing." Her reverent words were accompanied by the gentle graze of her thumb over his cheek before it returned to being the loose hook around his throat. "You know, I owe you so much, dear Harry. You brought me back to my lord. It's unfortunate that I cannot tell him about how you've helped me, he wouldn't understand. But, if you come with me now, I know our lord will be merciful and welcome you with open arms." She emphasized the last bit with the brief tightening of her own arms.
"I'm afraid it's not my time yet, Bellatrix. Besides, what could the Dark Lord possible have use for a fourteen-year-old? I may be a Ravenclaw, but that doesn't mean I'll be all that useful." Harry said calmly, even though they both knew his words not to be true.
"No need to be humble, darling, I know you hide—and hide well. You would be an invaluable ally. If you were truly the harmless fourteen-year-old you claim to be, then perhaps I should just take you back to my lord right now." She considered, pulling him back a little tighter. Knowing that the witch might actually do it just to prove a point, Harry stopped with the games and pulled on the cold, swirling magic within him that he knew worked best with Necromancy.
Bellatrix laughed loud and breathlessly into the cool night air as she felt the press of that delectable magic. Poised, ready to strike and just as dangerous as pressing a blade to her throat. It was a clear warning to not even try, but it did little to deter the witch. In fact, it only made her want to take Harry more! To whisk him away to her lords Manor and show her master just how incredible the young man truly was. She knew her words to be true, the Dark Lord would be ecstatic once he knew of Harry's potential. Her master would treat him well.
"There it is! My lord would seek you to the ends of this world and the next if he could feel this for himself. I know you are hiding amongst those boring and insignificant wizards for now, but I will not remain silent forever. As glad as I am that you are not the enemy, I will not allow you to remain neutral for long. So, prepare yourself Harry, because you will be in the grasp of our lord soon enough." Before Harry could even reply, Bellatrix's arms retreated and when he turned around, she was gone.
Harry knew she was talking about the resurrection. Which meant she knew what was to come and fully expected for Harry to join Voldemort afterward. Which, depending on how that went, wasn't completely out of the question. Harry would never be a Death Eater—he wasn't even sure if he could bow before Voldemort as another follower—not after all he'd done, not after being the one actually bring him back, not with the power Harry holds—but perhaps he will lend his aid and become more of a 'connected third party.' If Voldemort ever found out about his gifts, it would be best if Harry wasn't marked and under the complete control of Voldemort.
Harry was broken out of his thoughts when a flash of a spell shot up into the night air and the writhing snake and skull loomed overhead. Harry knew that the quiet of the grounds meant that the other Death Eaters were either retreating or already gone and that the Ministry would show up at any moment.
Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak from his expanded pocket and threw it on before making his way quickly towards the woods. There were people still in the woods, so Harry quickly took his cloak off once he was in the cover of trees and made his way back to the boot. It was more difficult to navigate back in the dark, but he eventually arrived. Everyone else was already there and waiting on him with panicked expressions that immediately eased when he appeared.
Harry spun a vague story about being knocked out while running and waking up after the place was nearly empty. Moments later, they had taken the portkey back and were trekking back through the woods to the Burrow. Sirius and Remus were both waiting outside when they arrived and nearly crushed Harry when they got their arms around him.
Harry didn't think he'd ever seen either man look so terrified before, Remus' eyes were even suspiciously wet and red. It pulled hard at something behind Harry's ribs when he was pulled into their encompassing arms and not let go for anything, even as they told Mr. Weasley thank you and goodbye before apparating back to Grimmauld Place.
Harry found out later that they'd gotten word about the raid only a little bit ago from an Auror acquaintance who'd apparently been there and had seen Harry. Harry didn't need to ask who to know who it was. He would probably have to have words with Philias later about worrying his guardians needlessly, but for now, he would stay with them. They didn't know what he got up to in his spare time, they didn't know how invulnerable he really was, so what had happened tonight had probably scared the daylights out of them. To them, they'd come so close to losing a child that night.
Remus continued to hold Harry close, growling softly in the back of his throat when the teen attempted to pull away, so Harry just gave in and held him in return. Burying his face in Remus' shoulder, he closed his eyes and breathed in the comforting and familiar smell of one of the two closest people Harry had ever had to a parent. It was rapidly becoming clear that a parent had almost nothing to do with DNA, and everything to do with who held you close in moments like these. It had to do with who was willing to sacrifice their own happiness and wellbeing for you, and who would remain by your side unconditionally. Taking those few things into consideration, it was unquestionable who that was in Harry's life.
Harry had never really had that in his life before, so he found it to be completely new territory for him and he had no idea how to act around them; whether to start referring to them as his parents or 'dad' or something. So, Harry just settled on his usual way of communicating such things; through action. Harry squeezed Remus a little tighter and said nothing when Sirius pulled them both close. It wasn't much and Harry knew that they deserved more, but it was all he could give right then. Harry wasn't like other fourteen-year-olds.
He knew that there were parts of himself that were so tangled up, locked away, or even extremely underdeveloped. It made it hard to connect to others and convey that he actually cared. But he was working on it, trying his best to open up as they had and communicate what he felt. Harry didn't know if he would ever be completely open and vulnerable with anyone, it seemed unlikely, but no one seemed to blame him for that or get frustrated. Perhaps one day it would be different.
When Harry was finally released to go to bed, he laid there for several hours, awake and restless. Eventually giving in, Harry got up and pulled out a few supplies from his desk. In quick, elegant script, Harry wrote a brief note and sealed it in an envelope. He wasn't sure when he'd send it, but he knew it'd be soon.
The gentle wrapping on the office door pulled Voldemort's attention away from the ritual book he was referencing to get a more well-rounded idea of his plans for his resurrection.
"Come in." His sibilant voice seeped through the door to the person standing outside and the Dark Lord was surprised to see Green walk into the room. The 'Auror' never came unless Voldemort summoned him, which made his curiosity immediately spike at the sight of the man. Especially since there was only a few days left until the new school year began and Voldemort was quite busy with Barty. Green looked nervous, but confident in being there. He must have some important business. Voldemort quickly waved away the deep bow dismissively, his impatience so very fleeting these days.
"What is it?" He snapped out, deep red eyes boring into him.
Green snapped up and quickly placed an envelope on the desk before him with a quick explanation before he touched it.
"It arrived on my desk this morning with no magical trace and the same privacy spell as the box had." Green answered and Voldemort caught onto the implications immediately. With bounding anticipation, Voldemort forgot all about Green's presence as he tore open the envelope and pulled out the sturdy piece of parchment. His crimson eyes swept over the single line with careful reverence and surprisingly hearty laughter filled the room, causing Green to flinch slightly.
The Dark Lord grinned as he read the note again, filling with amusement and bubbling excitement.
Let the games begin.
-A Friend
