The future past. March 1997.
Potter Manor.
Nothing was indeed more peaceful than having your own loved ones with you. That goes double when it is just you and your beloved partner. For Harry Potter, life could not be any better. It did not matter that Voldemort was on the loose. It did not matter that he was hunting down the very horcruxes that kept the most dangerous wizard on the planet alive. It did not matter that unless it was for the heavy fortifications of Potter Manor, they would have to be at constant vigilance against ambushes and sudden attacks—it just did not matter at all.
The pair just walked hand in hand-her soft fingers on his, her head dropped slightly on his shoulders, their bodies in contact together—strolling on the lush green grounds of Potter manor. It was one of those few moments, which he had-the ones that could always serve as a Patronus memory of he needed it.
"We have time, don't we? After all of this is over?" she asked.
Harry shifted a bit to look at her face-so beautiful, so enchanting-her icy blue eyes, her golden curls, her full pink lips with that naughty smirk on them—the same lips that now quivered as the uncertainty of the future crushed down on her mind.
"Lots of time... lots and lots of time..." he promised with a smile.
"Papa is still not happy that I have chosen you. I do not know why, but he is very adamant about it."
He frowned. Sebastian Delacour was a... difficult person to understand. While the rest of the world would jump at the opportunity to be family to the Boy-who-lived, Sebastian Delacour seemed happy to just maintain a healthy animosity against him-it was as if he hated Harry on principle.
"Your dad is-" he tried, but words failed to express his confusion for her father.
"I understand. I am sure someday-"
BOOOOM!
Disorientation. Complete disorientation. His temples were throbbing as he put his fingers on his head- the fresh blood oozing out colored his fingers red. His muscles cried out in pain, as his nerves flared out in agony. He opened his eyes, but all he could see was a blur.
Then the truth came to him.
FLEUR!
His eyes wide open, despite the blur, he began searching for the woman he loved, his beloved, his Fleur...
"Fleur... Fleur..."
The smoke cleared, and as the dust settled down, he searched everywhere using his hands, until it hit something soft. The blur receded as he saw the very sight that would haunt him forever...
Fleur was fallen on the ground. Her form was bloodied, her blue robes now dirtied with dust and red with her own blood oozing out of her wounds. Her blue eyes-glassy, devoid of their characteristic vibrancy—devoid of life...
FLEUR!
FLEUR!
FLEUR!
However, Fleur Delacour would just not respond. Harry looked aside, all around. The main wardstone on the Potter grounds was heavily damaged, but still somewhat intact, keeping the fortifications strong. He saw the intruders on the other side of the property, while Hermione came running from behind.
"Harry! Harry! Are you all right? Harry?" she asked frantically, wiping the blood off his temples as he stood up. "Fleur isn't responding. I don't know-she isn't just-" he babbled, "do something Hermione, please." He begged her. Hermione nodded hastily as she turned and levitated the fallen body of Fleur Delacour and applied a statis charm on her, levitating her into the Manor.
Harry watched her leave, as his attention turned back towards the intruders. They had detonated some kind of magical landmine inside the property, which meant just one thing-they had been compromised and betrayed by someone inside. However, that meant—-
Harry summoned his wand back and apparated.
Augustus Rookwood believed that when it came to wards, he had no betters. Even the fellows at the DOM accepted it-his knowledge of ward breaking was superlative. The wards of Potter manor, however antiquated, were after all—wards. However, they seemed to be quite immune to any kind of external attacks, and hence the KA-BOOM! Style of ward breaking by overpowering it using blasting curses would not work.
That left only one option.
Break it from within.
Normally this would be impossible, but lucky for him—he had a mole on the inside. Someone who was very close to Potter himself, someone who had recently joined ranks with the Death eaters in secrecy-only the inner circle of the dark lord were aware of the developments. A mole-a betrayer—how wonderful!
Ron Weasley.
The blood traitor had finally come to his senses and deserted Potter to join ranks under the dark lord. At least he was a Pureblood, which was something. Had the blood traitor been a muggleborn, the dark lord would have killed him anyway.
Ron Weasley had helped him plant a magical landmine right next to the main wardstone. Ron Weasley had helped him break through the initial layer of wards, though it had not worked out as he had expected. No sooner had they entered, the outer layer reactivated, sandwiching them. There was only one way left-that was going forward-he hoped that the explosion would destroy the wardstone, or at least weaken it enough to allow them to break into the manor.
Unfortunately, the strangest of things had happened. The detonation had worked wonderfully, and the best thing-Potter and his Veela wench were right there when it exploded-the Veela seemed dead while Potter was wounded. Then again, the bad news was that the wardstone was still intact.
That left only one option. Fight his way out.
Damn!
"Moitas Espadas!" Potter's voice resounded from a side, as dozens of silver arrows rained towards the death eaters, taking away five from Rookwood's team of eight. Rookwood instantly went on the defensive, raising powerful shields and then moving forward with dark curses. As unfortunate as it was, Potter was quite an accomplished dueler, what with the way he moved gracefully and bombarded powerful and potentially dark curses down on them. It was completely odd—seeing a fighter for the Light—Dumbledore's stooge—using dark curses to fight them.
"Oooh, Potter likes to play with the dark arts is it?" he taunted. "Old man Dumbledore would be sooooo disappointed." Harry gnashed his teeth as he rained down darker and powerful curses on the death eaters, his mind completely dissolved in fury and vengeance.
One hour later...
"Who allowed you inside the wards? ANSWER ME!"
The wand swished as a jolt of lightning electrified one of the death eaters, making him twist and cry out in agony. Rookwood was already dead, killed in the battle with Harry, and now only two were left, tied in the dungeons of Potter manor as he tortured them into revealing information.
"It was Weasley!" Travers yelled, unable to withstand the curse any longer.
"No!" Harry muttered, "YOU LIE! Fulminis!" another jet if lightning spewed out of his wand, as the death eater cried out in pain and agony. "I am telling the truth!" he pleaded. "Weasley gave us the information; he planted the landmine and also allowed us in. Please I beg you; I do not know anything else."
Harry's face turned emotionless. This was not happening. Ron- he could not-he just could not. He ran out of the dungeon instantly. He needed to find the truth now. He banged the door to Ron's room open. It just could not be Ron, it just-
"RONNNN!"
Harry's eyes widened. It was Hermione, and the sound-
Harry raced upstairs towards Hermione's room. It was where she had taken Fleur before turning it into a makeshift Hospital wing. He barged through the door as he found himself greeted with the oddest sight he could ever imagine.
Hermione was fallen on the ground-her left leg injured and bloodied-blood oozing out of her lips, her face swollen with a large red mark. She was trying to crawl away from the one person she had trusted to be her best friend and lover-Ron Weasley, who was maniacally grinning as he towered above her, his wand thrust out towards her.
"I am sorry Hermione, but this is for your own-"
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
The wand flew out of Ron's hand as he turned sharply towards the new entrant. Harry Potter was shaking as he stood on the doorway, his wand pointed towards him as Potter's face glowed with rage.
"It was you, you bastard! I could not believe it, but...You. How could you, Ron?"
Weasley just smirked. It was so unnatural to see him smirking, as he raised his hands up in surrender. The sleeves fell towards his shoulders, revealing the dark mark on his left arm. Harry's eyes widened as he glared with rage.
"Oops! You caught me!" Ron mocked, "I guess we need to finish this quickly then!" he whipped another spare wand from his robes and shot a blasting curse at Harry who jumped out of the way. Taking the opportunity, he thrust his wand towards Hermione and yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"
Perhaps it was because of the adrenaline rush, or perhaps because of the revelations, but something in Harry just snapped. He whipped his wand, not even uttering a sound, but his magic seemed to understand what he wanted as a marble slab materialized between Hermione and Ron, blocking the killing curse before turning to dust. He flicked his wand again as powerful metallic chains formed around Ron's person despite his best efforts, incapacitating him.
"Why did you do this to me?" Harry asked coldly.
"You will never understand." Ron scoffed.
Harry was done with it. "So be it." And for the second time in his life, he uttered.
"CRUCIO!"
Ron yelled out in pain as his insides seared with agony. It was pain, the likes of which, Ron had never felt. Ron Weasley twitched and tried his level best to break out of the chains while his nerves flared in painful agony.
"Bellatrix was right. You do need to mean it. CRUCIO MAXIMUS!"
"CURSE YOU POTTER!" Ron yelled, as he bit his lip, but found no solace. Blood sprayed out of his mouth as his skin blackened. His eyes turned over, as he started to convulse in pain.
Harry stopped the curse as Ron Weasley sagged down to the ground.
"You betrayed me..." A whip of his wand as lightning struck the redhead, who screamed.
"You let them in..."
"You are responsible for Fleur and Hermione's injuries... CRUCIO!"
Weasley screamed more and more.
"You betrayed us all..."
Silence.
Harry looked closely at Ron's face- the emerald green eyes looked into the brown ones...seeing nothing but hatred.
"Any last words, Weasley?"
Ron sneered. It was almost surprising that Weasley retained enough of a mind to sneer. His voice changed into something more... grating..."
"Curse you Potter!" he snarled as he spat on Harry's face.
"Obcidione caedo!" Harry muttered as a pale blue curse hurled out of his wand and hit Ron in the chest. Weasley's entire body started to turn gray...
"What did you hit him with?" Hermione urged, still trying to get up.
"The withering curse. The very same that weakened Dumbledore." Harry answered coldly.
Ron's entire body turned grayish as flakes started to peel out of them. "Burn in Hell, Weasley!" Harry snarled. The anger in those brown eyes remained prevalent as his entire body withered away into the dust.
"What was that?" Hermione asked fearfully.
"The beginning of the End."
Back to the present...
Harry woke up from a disturbed sleep as he sat beside Daphne's bed. He had fallen asleep sitting next to her sleeping figure on the Hospital bed. Standing up, he was just about to get out of the hospital wing when he found something holding him back. He turned, only to see Daphne's palm held around his palms tightly. He smiled, and carefully opened her fingers apart to extract his hand out of hers.
The debacle with Weasley and the imposter was troubling him a lot. It was a strange set of situations. Why would anyone, even Ron Weasley of all people willingly agree to a possession? Jealous bastard he might be, but he had seen what had happened to Quirrel-surely, Weasley wasn't that much of an idiot to forget that, but then-what else could have happened?
Harry focused on all the events that had happened in his life so far. Possession was possible by only the darkest of wizards, especially those who dabble with something as dangerous as soul magic. Voldemort could do it-but Ron Weasley would never allow Voldemort to possess him-besides Voldemort must be preparing for the resurrection at this moment. It would be insane, even for Voldemort to try such a thing.
There was simply no one else that could be a viable suspect in this world. Ever since, he had time-travelled-
Wait!
Time travel...
What if-
Ten seconds later, the wards of Croaker's office triggered powerfully. Someone had broken into the Department of Mysteries without prior permission.
Croaker felt his wards go frenzy all of a sudden, piquing his interest. Unlike other departments, if someone had indeed broken into the DOM, the first thing Unspeakables would do would be having an interesting discussion with the intruder—for it won't be just any normal wizard who would have achieved the feat. It would require someone highly powerful, talented and versatile, and at this moment-there was only one name on the list.
"Good morning Mister Potter. What brings you here?" he urged, as the smoky ethereal figure materialized in front of him, forming the corporeal form of Harry Potter.
"Director, I have some questions. I hope you will be able to help me with them."
"Interesting. Go on."
"How exactly did you figure out that I travelled back in time?"
Croaker folded his hands in a Dumbledore-esque fashion and rested his chin over his fingertips. "We have a...equipment that allows us to sense if chronomantic disturbances occur anywhere in Magical Britain."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I am in need of discrete information."
"As in?"
"How many of such... disturbances have you noticed say... in the last one year?"
"I am not sure why you are-" Croaker began.
"You will soon be sure of why I am asking this." Harry interrupted. "Please", he insisted, "tell me."
Croaker sighed. "Very well. There was a disturbance in the forbidden forest in May 1994 and one more in Little Hangleton, three days later."
Harry's eyes widened-something that did not go amiss by Croaker.
"Who was it?" Harry asked brazenly. "Tell me you know who it was."
Croaker silently shook his head. "We couldn't figure it out. From your reaction, I presume you had nothing to do with this."
Harry shook his head. Croaker rubbed his temples. "Then we have a problem."
Back at Hogwarts, the entire school was in pandemonium. The sudden attack on Greengrass by none other than Ron Weasley had shook the foundation of security amongst the students. How were they safe among the walls-when a random student could just come up and try to kill you? Especially if said student were a brawn Gryffindor of all people- if the house of chivalry and nobility contained such monsters, what hope was there for the rest of the school population?
The Weasley twins and Ginny had been sent back home—not that they complained. Knowing the rather mercurial nature of the student population, and the furtive glances that the students casted upon them- the Weasleys knew better than to stay in school at the present moment. The tournament had been delayed until further notice, much to the scowling of one French girl, who sported a scowl all the day, complaining about how the Greengrass girl was simply making a mountain out of a molehill in her own vivacious manner. Said Greengrass girl was still in the Hospital wing, as she had yet to be released by the school matron, and had been limited to conversations with some of her friends who managed to squirm some time out to see her.
Harry had been seen in the Headmaster's presence twice that day, though after that, he was away for the day. There were rumors about Ron Weasley being treated in the Hospital wing, but no one had been able to confirm the suspicions. Dumbledore had used his position as Chief Warlock to instill two Auror guards at the Hospital wing to prevent any unwanted interference. Overall, it seemed that until Greengrass was declared as fit and fine, the duels would remain stalled.
"So someone time-travelled from the future after me, to take some sort of vengeance over me. This person has been slightly altering the timeline-and in all possibility- could be working with Voldemort to do me in. Also, he somehow, convinced the Weasley moron to allow him to possess his body." Croaker almost rolled his eyes at the statement. "This person somehow wants to kill Daphne because she is close to me." Harry sighed. "Wonderful!" he clapped his hands in mock appreciation.
Croaker looked solemnly at him. "What do you think could be the possible reasons for this vendetta?"
Harry shrugged. "Could be a lot of things. It could be someone from Voldy's old crowd, though I never saw any of them in the last few years. It could have been someone from Inferno Corporation, or some dimwit from the ICW, I have no idea... the possibilities are endless."
"The ICW?"
"Yes, the Inferno Corp. had infiltrated into its ranks. The ICW or Inferno, it's all the same to me." Harry shrugged offhandedly. "I cannot say who it was that could have come after me, since I remember the entire contingent destroyed before I travelled back in time."
"There is always a chance that someone lived and saw you travelling back in time."
Harry did not reply. He paced across the room. "I do not know. For some reasons, he was able to fool the castle's wards."
"Not a mere ordinary feat."
"Of course not", Harry snapped, "Not even I could do the same."
"What about Ron Weasley from the future?"
Harry turned sharply at him. "What do you mean?"
Croaker shrugged. "It is an obvious speculation. If Ron Weasley from the future would come back to the past, the castle's wards would show him as Ron Weasley. Sort of fits."
"I wish." Harry exclaimed, "But it's not true."
"Why?"
"Because I killed Ron Weasley myself in the future."
Croaker drew his breath. "With the body count you have on your name, I wouldn't be surprised if they called you a dark lord in the future."
Harry looked at him, amused.
Croaker paled. "You are not serious, are you?"
Harry bit back an instant comment about the 'serious' word, and simply stared back at him amusedly.
"You were a dark lord?" Croaker muttered in awe.
"You have to say, Dark Lord Potter does have a nice ring to it." Harry replied genially. Croaker sighed. "I am dealing with the devil."
"No, you aren't. You have no idea what the devil is like." Harry sounded unusually serious. "I did what I had to, to save Magical Britain from Inferno Corp. As it is, they already named me a dark-lord-wannabe in my second year at Hogwarts because I could speak Parseltongue."
"I... understand." Croaker replied, "But that opens up a new vault of questions."
"Fire them at me."
"Are you sure that the person you killed, was actually Ron Weasley?"
Harry wanted to reply, but bit back—his eyes burning with vindictive curiosity.
Albus Dumbledore sagged himself on his chair- it had been a long day. An attempt to murder on the stage of the dueling event was... mind boggling. Especially when the perpetrator was a fourth-year Gryffindor—Ron Weasley. The revelations that followed, they just made the situation less and less palpable and more complicated. He wondered if the ever-growing mystery would find a solution any time soon.
Someone knocked on the office door.
"Come in, Minerva."
The Scottish woman walked in, her lips thinned in tension. "Albus, the organizers are asking about the renewal of the dueling event. The sponsors are getting out of control." Albus sighed. "Miss Greengrass is quite well at the moment, if not in her best form. We shall renew the events from tomorrow morning."
"Are you sure?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"Very well. I shall inform the organizers."
The next day...
The stadium was back in all glory, with the spectators looking forward to the continuation of the dueling tournament. It seemed that the unfortunate incident and murder attempt on the stage had done no setback to the interest and excitement of the crowds-if anything; the crowds seemed more relentless than ever. The second event of the semi-final was ready-Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons facing Victor Krum of Durmstrang.
The stadium was set- this time the ground was a sandy terrain—a miniature desert, so to say. Fleur Delacour and Victor Krum stood on either side, wands at the ready, with curses on their lips. On one side- Fleur Delacour and her prowess with fire and enchantments, while on the other hand—Victor was a prodigy with battle transfiguration as his chief arsenal.
"Three, two, one... DUEL!"
"Reducto!"
"Confringo!"
The two blasting spells hit each other midway, as the duel officially started. The two opponents circled each other like wolves—Victor still stoic as usual, while Fleur with her hands extended, her Veela powers ready to overpower her opponent.
"Confringo maxima!" Victor roared, causing Fleur to dodge the incoming spell. Taking the opportunity, Victor shoved down many more blasting curses towards her, making it impossible for her to go for the offensive. With a beautiful combination of shielding and dodging, she danced around her opponent, often using her Veela powers to cast fireballs as a way of minor offensive attacks. It was a good way, making the opponent waste out his energies before Fleur could go for the final kill.
Victor seemed to realize what was going on, and whirled around, casting a powerful wide-are banisher in a circle—the waves making Fleur shift away from him, giving him a wider berth to move about. While more of a stationary fighter, Victor did not undermine the importance of space when it came to dueling. He transfigured a swarm of bats and sent them towards Fleur, who used her flames to burn them down. Using the opportunity, he threw a multitude of powerful bludgeoners at her. Fleur escaped the wrath of the incoming horde, though one single spell did land a nasty imprint upon her abdomen, making her whimper in pain.
Victor smirked.
Fleur paused for a while and then changed tactics. She whipped her wand and transfigured two bulls from the sand and attacked Victor with them, while at the same time consistently threw fireballs towards his person. Unfortunately, Victor seemed to be quite calm and composed, and did not lose his demeanor unlike Rostov- and was beating her attacks back by a significant margin. Fleur raced towards him, firing spells at full power, despite the fact that Victor parried them well enough. Just a couple of yards away, she threw her most powerful exploding curse, making Victor use his full power to erect a shield against it, and then sent a jolt of her allure. It was not of much difference, but the momentary confounding power of the allure made victor lose his grasp for two seconds. That was exactly what Fleur wanted. Just as she found his eyes turning cloudy, she sent off a powerful banisher, sending Victor out of the duel ring.
"And THAT, ladies and gentle-wizards, concludes the semi-finals. The grand finale will be held exactly an hour from now—between Daphne Greengrass of Hogwarts and Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons. Till then, I shall tune out." Lee cheered from his commentary box.
Fleur shook her arms in satisfaction, the tiredness of the duel getting to her. She walked down the battleground and slowly treaded towards Daphne, who was sitting on a chair. As she walked past, she passed a single note to her.
"Your time and luck has run out. Get ready to be defeated."
### Ah well, sorry for the delay. I was having a very tedious week. Anyway, hope you like this short and succinct chapter. The next brings the grand finale between Daphne and Fleur. As always, follow, favorite and review...
### I am almost done with my editing and slight rewrite of 'The Last of the Peverells'. Expect the new and rewritten edition to replace the original by the next seven days. I will be posting it officially, of course. On that record, I find that the number of readers in SERPENT LORD and BROKEN VENGEANCE to be very low, compared to my other stories. Is it because the stories begin from the first year?
