Dear readers, enjoy this ridiculously long chapter!
74 – Order
The assassination of Bobby Leach proved to be more effective than anyone could hope. Not a week passed before the Ministry had gathered strong enough information on the Death Eaters to finally understand their intentions, realising that the growing number of crimes related to Dark Magic in England wasn't a mere coincidence. To the delight of Tom and his Ministry spies, Nobby Leach and most of his closest Ministry Department Heads were terrified; they wanted to hide information on the Death Eaters to avoid a public scare.
As much as the Ministry pretended to be in control of the situation, however, there was no fooling the witches and wizards of Britain: this brutal, shocking assassination was too successful to be just another common crime. The Daily Prophet, amongst many newspapers, was writing theories on possible 'Dark Arts fanatics' who had 'anti-Ministry views', and Nobby Leach was too shaken and distracted to silence the papers in time. Their stories were released for all of Britain to read. Hidden behind sobs of the Leach family, whispers of Lord Voldemort and his loyal Death Eaters grew stronger.
While Nobby Leach attended the funeral of his murdered son, the Death Eaters were celebrating. All across the streets of Wizarding London, as well as many villages, the Death Eaters were doing all they could to taunt, scare, and anger the Ministry with dangerous, powerful displays of magic. They did this with Tom's permission, but not under his orders. It was in rejoice after a successful step towards victory for the Dark Arts. It was a show of gratitude for their Lord.
If the Ministry was unsure how involved Voldemort was in the assassination of Nobby Leach's son, their worst fears were confirmed on the seventh week of Death Eater celebrations. Drunk, violent, and eager to cause a scene, Gibbon had been arrested on account of causing a scare when he threw up the Dark Mark in London late one night. Upon his arrest, he admitted to being a 'sacred Death Eater', ruling under the orders of 'the one and only Dark Lord worth serving: Lord Voldemort!'.
Miraculously, nobody had been found dead at the scene of the Dark Mark, but Gibbon's lack of true crime did not make up for his general foolishness. The Aurors demanded more information from him. All he did was laugh hysterically, angrily, trying to provoke the Ministry further.
"You don't know who you're talking to!" he slurred vainly, thrashing violently in the arms of two Aurors. "You don't know the power of the Dark Lord, or his faithful Death Eaters! We'll grow more quickly than you can comprehend. The Dark Lord will rise a rebellion more powerful than any wizard dared to before! For the sake of all wizardkind!"
Gibbon's little speech would have been harmless if, upon his arrest, several curious witches and wizards hadn't seen and heard his wrath. In spite of the Ministry's control over newspapers, no amount of crude lies could change the ideas planted in general peoples' minds. To make matters worse for the Ministry, Tom had no intention of allowing Gibbon to be arrested under suspicion of conspiracy. He had a plan to avoid Gibbon's imprisonment, to use his foolishness to his full advantage.
"You want us to re-capture Gibbon from the hands of the Ministry?" Rosier asked in disbelief upon hearing Tom's plans, his eyebrows raised. Harry sat across from him, struggling to ignore the bitter coldness of the Nundu Hideout. "That's not possible, my Lord."
"Why ever not?" Tom asked in a quiet voice, sitting proudly in his chair at the head of the table. "We have power greater than the Ministry could fear. Gibbon is in the hands of the Aurors and the Minister, all of whom suffer from misinformed information."
"That doesn't mean the Ministry won't notice it if we take Gibbon back from their hands, my Lord."
Tom wasn't so sure. He laughed coldly. "Grief has weakened Leach's ruling abilities; his son's death sapped him of his power and left anger to rule over Britain... Understand, Rosier, that this was always intentional."
"But what use is this to us?" Black inquired, his strong voice heard from amongst the chosen Knights. "Even if Leach is weakened, other workers at the Ministry are not."
"It matters not how strong his workers' resolve remains," Tom continued calmly. "If their leader is insufficient, they will crumple under his conduct. Not only do we have the ability to save Gibbon from needless capture, we have a chance to scare the Ministry by displaying the power we possess. We have a chance to show all of England just how powerful the Dark Arts can be..."
Harry knew these words had caught the interest of Rosier, Black, Dorn, Nott, and Lestrange. They were quiet for a time, assessing the possibility of this plan being plausible.
"If Nobby Leach is as weak as you say, my Lord," said Rosier, "then the Ministry's idiocy is greater than I first supposed possible... A fact that speaks for itself, I'm sure."
Nott and Lestrange both found quiet amusement in this, before realising they had shared this moment. They soon fell into silence, neither of them paying the other the least bit of attention. Tom was unimpressed by Rosier's inability to quickly comprehend his brilliant plans, but he appeared forgiving, tonight, and carried on without pause.
"When we capture Gibbon back from the Ministry's grasp, using powerful Knights to do so," he said quietly, unfazed, "You will see the extent of our power and the power of the plans we spent years devising. Rescuing Gibbon will render Nobby Leach even more ineffective as Minister, leaving us rightfully feared, rightfully respected..."
The subject was discussed for a long time after this, but even as Tom divulged his plans openly to the Knights, Harry could sense Black and Rosier were eager to change his mind in the near future. Before they got the chance to, a changed happened in the Ministry. Away from the public eye, but in eavesdropping-distance of a few of Tom's Ministry spies, plans were being made to forcefully convince Gibbon to give more information on Bobby Leach's death – all under the orders of a grieving, furious Nobby Leach.
Gibbon did not hesitate in his dedication to Tom and the Death Eaters, but the more he resisted, the less reluctant the Ministry became to use brutality. In fear, anger, and panic, Nobby Leach was willing, as a father, to avenge the death of his son, to track down who was responsible for grieving his family and tearing them apart, no matter how many rules he had to bend to do so. Gibbon was trapped in the hands of the Ministry, who believed they had found a valuable wizard to give them information on Lord Voldemort.
The Knights of Walpurgis were solemnly alarmed by the Ministry's sudden change. They were not eager to see violence; to them, it was an unfortunate side-effect of starting a revolution, of keeping true to the old ways, and of not tolerating the ignorance of Muggle-lovers. As an original Knight of Walpurgis amongst Tom's followers, Dorn took it upon himself to voice the concern of his fellow German Knights.
"Even in Grindelwald's time, zhere vas not the risk of being murdered by a Ministry so simply. Zhis is a dangerous price, I fear, even for a chance to manipulate zuh British Ministry..."
"I have to agree, my Lord," Black admitted. "The Ministry's actions are both wholly unexpected and surprising to all of us."
"Which should be inspirational, not terrifying," Lestrange commented lazily before Tom could speak. "We have pushed the Ministry further than we could even predict. I, for one, find that admirable."
"But what will happen to Gibbon, or anyone else who is captured?" Black asked him. "What would have happened to you, if you had been captured upon killing Bobby Leach?"
"What happens to anyone foolish enough to be captured is irrelevant," Lestrange snapped, deflecting Black's questions. "I was not so ignorant. We can't reverse the Minister's fury without compromising everything we've worked for, so why not embrace change for once, Black?"
Black glared at him coldly, surprised at his condescending tone. "It would be unwise to leave any Knight or Death Eater close to the Ministry's eager grasp. I fear that, if the Death Eaters, especially, are recognised, there will be no turning back once they are captured."
"Your argument is wholly understandable," Tom told Black calmly, "yet Lestrange does not speak out of ignorance either. Although the Ministry has taken an unexpected turn, we would be fools to be shaken by such a change. We must adapt..."
"The Death Eaters won't understand such a sudden change," Nott commented. "Even under your orders, my Lord, I believe they would continue to make mistakes, for the sake of worshipping brutality and the Dark Arts."
"Ah," Tom said softly in response, his dark eyes scanning the faces of his Knights, "but will the Ministry's brutality not lessen the chance of idiocy amongst our Death Eaters?"
"That would be a relief," Rosier murmured.
The Knights shared words of agreement amongst each other.
"The Death Eaters should look after themselves," said Lestrange, eager to contradict Nott. "A few lost Death Eaters is nothing compared to overthrowing the Ministry."
"Precisely," Tom agreed softly, "and if the Death Eaters should be so foolish as to get themselves captured, they should know to respect their Lord like no one else. For Lord Voldemort does not forgive easily those who displease him, and soon all of England will know of his power and the power of his most faithful followers..."
The Knights seemed moved by his words. Tom sat proudly in his seat, drawing in a deep breath while Harry stared at him blankly, unnoticed. It unnerved him to hear Tom describe himself as 'Lord Voldemort', speaking of himself in third person. It made him feel strangely frightened. He wondered whether the recent success was going to Tom's head or whether he hadn't noticed his strange wording at all. Harry hated hearing that name from his lips...
The Knights weren't the only ones who noticed the recent changes Nobby Leach inflicted. Even the Death Eaters, who gained no information from Tom's Ministry spies, had begun to take notice of how brutal the Aurors were becoming. The Aurors weren't only using defensive spells and chasing the Death Eaters around under the emerald light of the Dark Mark, they were using progressively darker magic to stop the Death Eaters in their tracks, to capture them by force and violence.
"We've broke 'em, see," Avery said one evening, sloppily holding a goblet of Firewhiskey. "They're scared of our power – or the Dark Lord's, at least."
Harry was surprised to find that the Death Eaters weren't at all scared by Nobby Leach's changes. In contrast, they found great joy in seeing Ministry workers attack them so viciously.
"Do you reckon it's going to get wore than it is already?" he asked.
"I'd say so, yeah," Avery agreed. "If we can make a whole Ministry furious enough to break their own rules, though, we've already won, haven't we? We've already won!"
Dolohov chuckled from nearby, looking up from a deck of cards he was dealing.
"It don't matter if we get attacked by 'em," Avery carried on, swaying where he sat. "The bigger the challenge, the better, I'd say."
Harry knew Tom had trained his Death Eaters well, to get such loyalty from them. They had no fear of fighting – it was all an amusing joke to them. Harry wondered a lot about the thoughts and opinions of the Knights and Death Eaters, but he felt that his personal opinions were irrelevant. He knew that if Tom took Gibbon back from the Ministry's grasp, a lot of things could change, but he couldn't say whether or not he agreed with the said changes. He was stuck somewhere between apathy and curiosity.
Two months after Gibbon was originally captured, Tom had an entire plan worked out on how to get him back. He had spent weeks figuring out the perfect day, the perfect hour, to cause a scene great enough to retrieve him from the hands of the Ministry. The more he spoke about his plans, the more Harry, Black, Dorn, Rosier, Nott, and Lestrange were convinced it would work. A growing sense of anticipation filled the air. The Knights were eager to share their ideas on this mission with Tom, and Harry, with some reluctance at first, began following their lead.
Gibbon was being moved on the 21st of August, from a Ministry hearing back to Azkaban. Tom saw this as the perfect opportunity to strike: they would fight the Ministry workers out in the open, away from both the Ministry of Magic and Azkaban. If they overthrew the Aurors, they could get Gibbon back cleanly. Harry added in a few details, suggesting that they use Polyjuice Potion on a Death Eater or two for extra protection, posing as Ministry workers. With the aid of the Imperius Curse on a few Aurors, they could take down every single worker moving Gibbon that day.
Tom was impressed by Harry's details on the plan. He followed the suggestions he made eagerly, ordering Nott and Rosier to take down two Ministry workers on the morning of Gibbon's hearing. They would be taking Polyjuice Potion to pose as the Ministry workers, while Avery, Mulciber, Dolohov, and Dorn stalked Gibbon and the Aurors' movements from afar. With the advantage of the Imperius Curse, control over Dementors, surprise, and sheer determination, the six Death Eaters and Knights were able to attack the moving Ministry workers, taking Gibbon from their grasp with ease.
An Auror died in the fight and several others were injured, giving the Death Eaters the opportunity to throw up the Dark Mark in celebration. The sight of the Mark made the front page of the Daily Prophet for what wasn't the first time, striking fear in the hearts of England. Tom was glad of his followers' success, but even more gleeful of the repercussions their actions were having on the Ministry. Further changes were happening to his advantage...
Everyone knew it was Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters who had caused this havoc, but only the Ministry knew what damage Voldemort's actions were having on them. Most Ministry workers were shocked, angry, and terrified of Tom, but there were a few thoughtful witches and wizards who listened not to Nobby Leach's furious anger, but to Tom's quiet, powerful reasoning. Sorcerers involved in grey and dark magic thought about his rise to power, assessing, eventually, that he was a more worthy leader.
Augustus Rookwood was amongst the most useful Ministry worker to turn into a Death Eater in dedication to Tom's rebellion. He joined the Death Eaters several months after Gibbon was free, having spent a long time before this working out how he could get in contact with the Death Eaters without arousing suspicion. Rookwood was an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries and he was eager to turn his knowledge of the Ministry to a greater cause, to a worthy Lord...
Rookwood was a believer in blood-purity and Wizarding Supremacy. When Tom was sure of his sincerity, he allowed Rookwood to take full advantage of contacting his other Ministry spies, to pass on information undetected from within the Ministry. Nobby Leach's adoration for Muggles repulsed Rookwood; he believed that in order to overthrow such ignorance, to keep blood-purity flowing, he had to help Voldemort's revolution.
While the Death Eaters grew ever more powerful, the Ministry began doubting its leader's ability to handle the terrible changes England faced. Nobby Leach lasted a year and a half as Minister after his son's death before his brutality against Death Eaters was widely known and he was forced to retire in fear of angering and scaring his own Ministry and public. The Death Eaters were in an uproar of celebration when he stepped down as Minister: crimes against Muggles tripled in the months that followed.
The obvious changes at Leach's resign struck an even larger wave of Dark Arts fanatics to look towards Tom, to worship him as their true leader. The Death Eaters and Knights had succeeded not only in letting the public know about Lord Voldemort's anti-Muggle views, but in weakening the Ministry and changing the world as they knew it. Even the witches and wizards of France, Germany, and other European countries were interested in England's wizarding revolution.
In the months that followed Nobby Leach's resign, Harry saw young Death Eater recruits that he recognised, despite never meeting them before. Travers was one of the first to join, soon followed by Igor Karkaroff from Germany, and quite a few sons of the current Death Eaters: Thorfinn Rowle Jr, Walden Macnair (despite his father being murdered by Tom's hand), and Rabastan Lestrange.
"I don't think Lestrange truly wanted his eldest son to join us," Nott explained quietly one evening, sitting beside Harry in a deserted room of the Acromantula Hideout. A warm fire crackled before them, the only source of light in the room. "Rabastan is only eighteen years old."
"What made Lestrange allow it, then?" Harry asked curiously.
Nott shook his head, pulling in a deep breath before speaking. "Rabastan learnt that his father is involved in this revolution. I think it fascinated and impressed him in secret, causing him to take an interest in the Dark Lord's views and the actions of the Death Eaters over the last few years. He must have decided to become a part of all of this too, in spite of Raphael's better judgement for his son."
"Why would Lestrange allow that?" Harry asked. "Because it was his son's ambition?"
"I doubt Raphael really cares what his son's ambition is," Nott admitted. "Especially not when that ambition involves risking his life at such an early age. He was motivated by something else... You know Rookwood overshadows him completely in his work as a spy at the Ministry. I think it was that, and not respect for Rabastan's goals, that forced Raphael to give up his eldest son to the Dark Lord."
Harry thought this over. He knew that Lestrange was often motivated by jealousy, so it made sense that this horrid emotion should override his need to protect Rabastan. Lestrange, quite simply, wanted to be more respected by Tom and the only way he could do that was by giving Tom something Rookwood couldn't. Strong, worthy recruits.
"I can't imagine what this is doing to Galatea," Harry murmured.
"If she even knows," Nott added. "Raphael might not have told her."
"I think Lestrange is honest to her about his work as a Death Eater," Harry said truthfully. "As a Pureblood, I'm sure she's impressed on some level. Tom wanted to recruit her once, I think. The only thing stopping her was a need to pay attention to her sons."
"Well, let's hope that Rabastan makes her proud, at least. He's bound to be a powerful wizard, having parents like Raphael and Galatea."
Harry knew this assumption was correct. The Lestrange brothers would end up being very powerful Death Eaters indeed... He wondered how soon they might become favourites amongst Tom's followers. He wondered, too, what they would do to prove themselves worthy Death Eaters.
"I hope to have a son one day," Nott mused quietly, staring out into the fire, "or a daughter – she might be more able to avoid becoming a Death Eater. I'd never allow them to join this terror. I'd never subject them to this foolish war..."
Harry watched Nott in the firelight. He had never voiced a desire to have kids before, so Harry wondered what had evoked such a change within him. Perhaps it was the passing of time, or seeing so many young Death Eaters around. Or maybe, more simply, he only felt comfortable bringing up the subject now. Despite Nott being a trained, skilled Occlumens, Harry thought the way he acted showed fear for Lestrange's son. He was scared, surely, of how this war might change the young man.
Not long after Rabastan Lestrange joined the Death Eaters, his brother Rodolphus decided he should honour his family by choosing the same ambition: to fight for wizarding supremacy amongst the Death Eaters. Along with Rodolphus came his young wife, Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry was so shocked upon seeing her that he did nothing but stare blankly during her first visit to a Death Eaters hideout. Tom hardly noticed. He would have no interest in the new Death Eaters until they proved their dedication and power.
Despite what Tom believed, he was not the only person who benefited from Nobby Leach's resign. In the blatant changes that morphed England into a much darker, more sinister place, Dumbledore was visiting powerful, willing witches and wizards in secret to begin forming a sort of Order. The witches and wizards of England were being forced to pick sides when the Death Eaters' activities became more inhumane and deadly and crimes against Muggles became more common and obvious. Dark witches and wizards fled to Tom in the hope of sharing his power and fame, while witches and wizards dedicated to Light Magic were looking for ways to avoid the rebellion.
As the Death Eaters grew in numbers, they had to fight harder for the attention, approval, and credit of their Lord. Many of them had begun doing individual attacks against the Ministry, Muggles, Muggle-lovers, Blood-traitors, or any other enemy of Tom's for sheer enjoyment, credit, and respect. Many of the Death Eaters worked in illegal trades to gain money for Tom, while others eagerly sacrificed the lives of Tom's enemies in dedication, causing rival groups to crumple before them, weak enemies to cower in fear.
Walden Macnair was amongst the first of the young Death Eaters to impress Tom. He had a great talent in communicating with Magical Creatures, and although he spent his first year as a Death Eater doing nothing but training Tom's Dragons, he impressed Tom with plans to communicate with the Giants of Scotland. After convincing a small clan to join the revolution, Tom employed Macnair to begin travelling across Scotland, Ireland, England, France, and Germany to gain the favour of all the Giants he could manage, using Ministry hate to his advantage.
While Macnair was off travelling, gathering Tom an army, the Order of the Phoenix was coming together. It was late winter when Nott told Harry about the first Order meeting and when it would take place. Harry received no direct contact from Dumbledore due to the risks, but whenever he could, Nott spoke to him about news from Hogwarts. Harry was invited to the Order meeting, so he made an excuse on the night to avoid Tom's suspicion, saying he wanted to help guide some Death Eaters while they moved a large trunk of gold from one side of London to the other.
It was easy for him to pretend he had important business with other Death Eaters after he helped Avery, Travers, Dolohov, and a few others move their (stolen) loot across London. They didn't ask questions; their interest was caught greedily on the treasure. They'd be out all night, probably drinking, so Harry had at least an hour or two to disappear without anyone knowing he was gone. Out of sight of the chuffed Death Eaters, he Apparated to Hogsmeade.
Once there, he made his way through the dark, deserted streets in the falling snow, heading for the Hog's Head. It was surprising and somewhat nostalgic to Harry that the Order of the Phoenix should be united in the same quiet, grimy inn that Dumbledore's Army was formed in. He understood, however, that Dumbledore chose this location for no reason other than to be under the protection of his brother Aberforth. They wouldn't be overheard by the wrong ears here – not tonight, anyway.
When Harry stepped out of the cold, snowy night into the (equally as cold, but not quite as windy) pub, he saw a crowd of people gathered around the largest table in the inn. The place was lit only by a few large, low-burning candles and a weak fire in the large fireplace nearby. There was a stray wizard at the bar, dressed fully in black with his face shielded, and another one by a grimy window, shielded in shadow, but Harry knew they weren't spies. Dumbledore would have made sure of it.
Harry turned his attention again to the large group of witches and wizards close to the fireplace. They spoke merrily amongst themselves, their tone clashing oddly with the atmosphere of the pub. Their faces were illuminated in the firelight and despite it being too early, Harry scanned the crowd as if he expected to see the faces of his mother and father here tonight. To his relief, they were nowhere to be seen. It was too early, he reminded himself. Too soon...
"Ah, Jonathan!" a familiar voice called pleasantly from across the room. "Do come in."
Harry met Dumbledore's kind gaze, nodding once and heading forwards. He noticed Nott sitting at the long table, talking to two red-headed young men. They, as well as many others, turned a friendly, curious eye on Harry when he approached the table.
"Jonathan, I would like you to meet a dear friend of mine," said Dumbledore calmly, "Elphias Doge."
An already elderly Elphias Doge stood up, nodded merrily from beneath a hat with too many flaps. "It's good to see so many fine young witches and wizards eager to fight this war," he said warmly, facing Harry and looking at him closely.
They shook hands, but Harry couldn't bear to see the kindness in Doge's watery eyes. Almost every single witch and wizard here tonight would be dead in a few short years.
"And this is Benjy Fenwick..."
The wizard addressed as Benjy waved from down the table with a closed-mouth smile. He was going to be blow up, one day, only pieces of him found.
"Dorcas Meadows..."
A witch leaning back in her chair smiled distractedly at Harry, her head tilted back as if she was lost in thoughts moments ago. Voldemort would kill her.
"Edgar Bones..."
Edgar nodded towards Harry, not smiling. He had joined the Order of the Phoenix to avenge the death of his father. His whole family would be wiped out in the process.
"Caradoc Dearborn..."
This wizard waved at Harry with a large smile. He would vanish by Voldemort's downfall.
"Rufus Werther..."
A young man with dark eyes in green robes inclined his head. Harry didn't recognise this wizard.
"Marlene McKinnon..."
Marlene smiled and waved kindly from across the table. She and her entire family would be killed.
"Sturgis Podmore..."
This wizard was leaning against the fireplace, staring into it before his name was called. He nodded at Harry, his square-jawed face unmoving. He would escape.
"And Gideon and Fabian Prewett."
At the name, Harry's eyes snapped to Dumbledore's. He stared at his old headmaster blankly until the red-headed twins caught his attention. The two boys nodded towards Harry, smiling kindly. He tried to nod back normally, but guilt and fear captured him. Dumbledore had saved their introduction for last to make an extra impression on Harry...
"You know Nott, of course," Dumbledore added, gesturing towards the Knight. "I was pleased to see he arrived here early."
"Yeah," Harry murmured, at a loss for words. He couldn't bear to look at all of the witches and wizards staring at him.
"Now that everyone is here," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "we can begin this meeting fully. Take a seat, Jonathan."
Harry did so without saying a word, making his way along the table to the only available seat: across from Nott. Dumbledore and Elphias took their seats near the head of the table.
Although Harry sat close to Fabian and Gideon, their eyes did not linger on him. They didn't seem to recognise him at all, to his great relief. He could think about nothing other than the fact he had murdered their father. He was the reason they were here, and because of this, he would be the reason for their deaths at the hands of the Death Eaters...
"To begin, I must thank you all for joining me so abruptly this not-so-fine evening," said Dumbledore from the head of the table, sitting formally and calmly surveying at the witches and wizards before him. "Many of you must be curious to know why I gathered together such a varying collection of witches and wizards to speak amongst...
"I admit, I was hesitant to begin an introduction with so few of us here, least of all so hastily and with so little an explanation, but as time goes on, it becomes harder to find witches and wizards who are brave enough to stand up against the Dark Arts. It's harder still to find anyone interested and trustworthy enough to be suitable for this group. In appreciation for your bravery, I feel it's prudent for me to explain my intention for contacting you all, to give you an explanation for my uninformative haste."
"You don't need to say much," Edgar Bones interrupted in a harsh tone. "We all know we're here to fight a few Death Eaters, to end the madness taking over our world."
A few of the new Order members seemed close to agreeing.
"That's a fine observation," Dumbledore responded tranquilly, "but I haven't gathered all of you here to start a war. My response to this 'madness' is not to fight fire with fire, but to form a strong resistance against the so-called 'Death Eaters'. There is a revolution happening, and the Ministry will not be able to stop it."
He allowed the sorcerers before him to take in this information as he drew himself up in his chair, leaning forwards, placing the tips of his fingers together. He surveyed the twelve witches and wizards calmly before speaking.
"It has come to my attention that in recent years, a dark change has struck our land, eliminating what little peace we may have had amongst the witches and wizards of Britain. This is a fear that I believe many of us here tonight share. I have gathered you all here because, quite simply, I intend to begin a resistance against the dark forces claiming our land."
"To what avail?" Dorcas Meadows asked. "In fear that the Ministry isn't strong enough?"
"Yes, amongst a few reasons," answered Dumbledore. "I fear that in too short a time, the Ministry will fall. I am forming this Order because I understand that action must be taken against certain corrupt individuals, in or out of the Ministry of Magic. If all of you here tonight are willing enough to fight, to remain strong, cautious, and above all else, persistent in your attempts to ward off the force of the Dark Arts, I hope to form an Order with you all."
With the attention and interest of the sorcerers caught, Dumbledore carried on talking about the changes happening in the wizarding world, bringing up a discussion about how they, together, could fight this revolution, even if the Ministry couldn't. Harry was unsurprised to see that every witch and wizard around him was moved by this speech. Without much effort at all, they were confident and interested in the idea of this new order. They all wanted to fight the Dark Arts, to take down the Death Eaters, to defeat the rising Dark Lord.
The witches and wizards around Harry spoke openly about their desires to take down the Death Eaters, to do what the Ministry couldn't, to avenge the deaths of innocent souls, but Harry couldn't say he shared their enthusiasm. He didn't take much part in helping form the Order, because he knew he wasn't going to end up a proper member of it. He was here to guide to the Order, to watch them, but to take no real part in their fight against Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
When Harry returned home that night, he was overwhelmed by the change happening in his world. He concealed all of his disorientation from Tom, but while the other Order members might be sleeping with bravery and relief in their hearts, Harry didn't feel as if things were going to get better in the wizarding world so soon. The Order was still at it's mere beginning while Death Eaters fought for honour and respect, causing terror in their wake.
To Harry's relief, the Order of the Phoenix had an advantage over the Death Eaters because Tom had virtually no idea that Dumbledore was wary of his actions. For a year and a half, the Order was able to rise slowly onto it's feet while the Death Eaters fought the Ministry and little else. Lestrange, amongst others, was using the Imperius Curse heavily on Ministry workers at Tom's command, helping him to sway the entire Ministry into disarray.
Harry thought, at first, that Lestrange was finally succeeding in overshadowing Rookwood again, but he found that Rookwood was keeping a low-profile in the Ministry for a very specific reason. He discovered this when he entered the Chimera Hideout one evening to find Tom sitting in an empty room by a fire, listening to a radio. In this small room with its high ceiling and comfortable, fully cushioned chairs and couch, the radio played clearly.
"...Bagman flanks two 'Cannon Chasers, Roland behind him and – oh, look at that! Classic team work right there! Parks takes another Bludger hit! Parks is down! He drops the Quaffle and Hares – drops it too – but Wasps' Richards takes it up and passes to Earl – Hares is close behind him –"
"You're listening to Quidditch?" Harry asked in amused disbelief.
"I thought I might take an interest," Tom said in a low voice, smiling at Harry when he walked further into the room.
"...Earl is heading for the Cannons' goal and – oh! Bagman hits yet another Cannons' Chaser! Earl approaches and – WIMBOURNE WASPS SCORE! One hundred and seventy-nil to the Wasps!"
Harry laughed to himself in astonishment. He knew this game. It was the 1972 match between the Chudley Cannons and the Wimbourne Wasps. It was the game that made Ludovic Bagman even more famous as a beater for taking out almost every single Chudley Cannons player. After this year, the Chudley Cannons' team motto comically changed from "We Shall Conquer" to "Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best."
"...Earl is done celebrating now and is back in all seriousness. She passes the Quaffle to Richards, who passes it back – but oh, Hares tries his luck! He's taken the Quaffle, he's headed for the Wasps' Keeper – there won't be a chance of Hares stooging today. He throws the Quaffle and – I don't believe it! Bagman hits a perfect Bludger again! Hares is down and Keeper Thurman saves!"
Over the roars and cheers of the Quidditch match playing harshly through the radio's speakers, Harry laughed in disbelief again, catching Tom's eye. He had lightheartedly made fun of Ron for this game numerous times at Hogwarts. It make him feel strangely nostalgic to hear the match live now. The Chudley Cannons Keeper was going to try and score, alone, for the Cannons in a minute, but his action would allow the Wimbourne Wasps to score another five goals. Tom flicked his wand to silence the radio.
"What did you think?" he asked.
"Of the match?"
"The players, more specifically."
Harry didn't know whether or not Tom was being serious. He suppressed a smile, moving across the room to sit on a couch. "Well, how many players were knocked out? The commentator mentioned Bludgers being hit 'again'."
"I believe you heard the sixteenth and seventeenth crucial Bludger hits," Tom informed him. "When you entered the room, four of the seven players for the losing side were injured so badly that they could no longer play. Only two of seven now remain."
"The Keeper and the Seeker," Harry murmured, knowing this from memory. "There's no way they could win now, even if they caught the Snitch. I don't know why the Chudley Cannons don't just call the whole thing off."
Tom raised an eyebrow, sitting back in his seat. "I didn't know you took such an interest in modern Quidditch."
"I don't," Harry said honestly.
Tom gave a low hum of laughter. "We ought to get a radio for our house, if you're so passionate."
"What about you?" Harry asked, laughing. "You wouldn't be listening to Quidditch unless you had a hidden motive."
"I do, actually," Tom told him, his dark eyes full of amusement. "It just so happens that the Beater in this game, Ludovic Bagman, has become our most recent, most valuable informant through Rookwood."
"How did that happen?"
"Through ignorance," Tom answered. "Bagman is unaware of who Rookwood truly is. He was a friend of Bagman's father, thus Bagman trusts him willingly. Confidence in confidentiality is so eagerly given by those who put common contacts before common sense..."
"Is Bagman really useful, then?"
"Very useful, yes."
Harry had no idea how, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to ask.
"Rookwood is forming powerful connections for us to use at will," Tom explained. "With the knowledge he alone has supplied us, we will be able to foresee when any Ministry plans to attack us, when any newspaper tries to write articles on us, when any witch or wizard rises up against us in sheer idiocy... We will always know."
"I can see why he's replacing Lestrange," Harry commented, before he could help himself.
"Lestrange has other uses," Tom said shortly. "Rookwood is a clean spy, undetected by all others. Manipulating the ignorant, using his position in the Ministry to his full advantage... He's promised Bagman a place at the Ministry, for the future. How foolish that young man is to believe his generosity is free..."
"Things at the Ministry are going better than ever, then," Harry observed. "I heard Lestrange put an Imperius Curse on the husband of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister."
"If he's not merely boasting, yes. Yet this is still not as valuable as the information Rookwood gives us as an Unspeakable. We have infiltrated the Ministry more subtly and powerfully than I could ever dream. There shan't be a man or woman within the Ministry of Magic who does not cross by my spies, passing on information unknowingly. And yet..."
"What's wrong?"
Tom did not answer at once. His dark, reddened eyes were downcast as he thought, his enthralment slowly slipping away.
"And yet," he said, "our external operations are suffering. Many of our most foolish Death Eaters call it 'bad luck', but I do not believe in luck at all. If the Ministry were strong, I would turn my attention and energy towards building a better web of spies, but what better could I now do? I don't believe it is the Ministry that is stopping our trades from succeeding, our murders from being carried out, our Giants from being convinced... These plans are suffering for odd reasons. Odd coincidences..."
Harry allowed Tom to think in peace, making no comment on any of this. He knew it was the Order of the Phoenix who tracked down Death Eater activity, tracing patterns, predicting movements, stopping Tom's plans too early. After a year of doing this, they had clearly crossed some sort of line.
"Who else could be against me?" Tom asked, thinking aloud. "I ask myself often. Why are these operations being sabotaged, above all? I think I should send some Death Eaters to investigate. They should question every witch and wizard they've been trading with, as of late. If there is a rat amongst our affiliates or Death Eaters, I will find him soon..."
Keeping true to his new plans, Tom sent out several Death Eaters the following week to begin an investigation on a potential rat. It took only seven days for the investigation to draw to a close. Rosier and Dorn had been assigned the job, along with two young Death Eaters, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. It was a surprise to many when the Lestranges returned to Tom's headquarters alone, interrupting an unimportant Death Eater meeting with news of great importance.
"We have discovered the flaw in our system, my Lord," Bellatrix told Voldemort openly as she approached him, ignoring the several Death Eaters who stared at her from the round table they sat at. "It is not a rat that has betrayed you, but a flaw far more sinister... There is a plot."
"A plot?" Tom repeated, surveying her, Rodolphus, and a wizard who was bound by magic. "To do what?"
"To conspire against you," Bellatrix explained in a hushed voice, her large, dark eyes fixed on Tom's. "The rat involved in our trades is a part of an Order that was formed to fight against you..."
Harry's stomach lurched uncomfortably. Tom stood up, staring at the Bellatrix with a mix of dubious caution and interest. He thought over her words, his eyes impassive. The Death Eaters began looking at each other fearfully, interested in the news and unnerved by Tom's shock. Upon hearing them murmur amongst themselves, Tom seemed to remember they were still here.
"All of you," he ordered, "leave at once. We will carry on this meeting tomorrow night..."
With notable reluctance, the Death Eaters around Harry began standing up. Some of them lingered behind their way out of the building in hope of catching a word or two more of Bellatrix's story, but it was to no avail. When all of them were gone, Tom advanced towards the open space where Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and the captured wizard stood. Harry followed him.
"Is this our rat?" asked Tom, his eyes lingering on man by Rodolphus's feet.
"Yes, my Lord," said Bellatrix.
"Let me see his face."
Rodolphus, following Tom's request, pulled the hair of the kneeling wizard, forcing him to look up. Harry's heart leapt in dread. It was Rufus Werther, a member of the Order of the Phoenix.
"How did you find this wizard?" Tom asked.
"He stayed around a little too long for my liking after making deals with the Death Eaters," Bellatrix explained, a sharp smile displaying her white teeth at the memory. "I decided to follow him, for three days, to see where he went... That variation of witches and wizards he met with was astounding."
As Bellatrix spoke, Werther's gaze wandered the room. It was only seconds before he met Harry's eyes, but if he was surprised to see another Order member here, he hid it well. His eyes dropped immediately to the ground.
"What was the wizard's name?" Tom inquired.
"Werther. Rufus Werther. He gave up all the information I needed, my Lord..."
"You interrogated him, I presume?"
"Yes," Bellatrix assured him, never removing her eyes from Tom's, "but I felt I should bring him to you alive, so you can gain more information, my Lord..."
Anxiety gripped Harry at her words. If Tom interrogated Werther, if he read his mind, he might see the faces of Harry or Nott amongst various Order members. Harry hoped he didn't pale too obviously at the realisation. Tom, however, was mesmerised by Bellatrix's story, while Bellatrix was mesmerised by Tom's handsome face.
It occurred to Harry that Bellatrix was just as crazed and power-hungry now as she had ever been in the future. Even as she stood here now, on what had to be her first real mission for Tom, she spoke openly and confidently, willingly boasting about her accomplishments while her husband was silent. She would do anything it took to get noticed.
"If you have discovered the existence of an Order, I don't believe there is much more I need to know," Tom said softly, watching Werther with a hateful look in his eyes. "What is this 'Order'? When did they form?"
"It is the Order of the Phoenix," Bellatrix explained. "It formed a few years ago, in the scare of Leach's resign. They are few in number, but its members are powerful..."
Tom's eyes were fixed on Werther intently, but still he did not look up. Harry watched him too, waiting for the moment when Tom would try to read his mind. Werther's expression was unreadable. He knew what was coming, surely. In seconds, everything Harry and Nott were working for could be ruined... Harry felt as if he was going to be sick.
"How is it," Tom began in a soft voice, "that this 'Order' have enough power to stop the Death Eaters from trading at will? How is it that they have gained enough information to interrupt the desires of Lord Voldemort?"
"The Order of the Phoenix is powerful, my Lord. It is made up of the strong witches and wizards – some more powerful than we could ever fear..."
"Who formed this group?" Tom demanded. He was impatient, now, and alarmed. "Who dared to challenge the power of the Death Eaters alone?"
Harry had to focus very hard to look unaffected by what would come next. What could he do if Bellatrix began naming Order members? Was there any was he could silence her? He became very conscious, suddenly, of the wand in his sleeve.
"That is the most interesting part of all, my Lord," Bellatrix said in a hushed voice, her large eyes never wavering, "for it is not a common rival, nor a petty wizard who has dared to challenge you. It is Dumbledore who fears you most..."
A silence fell at her words. Tom stared at Bellatrix, never blinking, never moving.
"Dumbledore?" he hissed. "Albus Dumbledore?"
"Yes, my Lord."
Tom looked away, his eyes burning in anger, his shock evident. When he turned his back on Bellatrix, too distressed to speak, the corners of Bellatrix's red lips twitched; she knew she had given Tom information that was more valuable than words could express. Harry knew she was wrong about one thing, however: Dumbledore had never feared Tom.
Bellatrix turned her large eyes away from Tom, looking at Harry for the first time. She glared coldly, her expression otherwise blank. She clearly didn't understand why Harry hadn't left with the others. He ignored her.
"How is it that this Order has escaped our notice for so long?" Tom hissed aloud, his back still turned to everyone. "If Dumbledore has formed the 'Order of the Phoenix', why have I not been informed..."
"Dumbledore is powerful," Werther murmured where he knelt. "Dumbledore has... has always been more powerful..."
Werther must have known this was the wrong thing to say. Harry, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus froze simultaneously, unable to believe their own ears. Harry wondered if Werther was trying to provoke Tom. To scare him? Because he sensed Tom's weakness? Harry wasn't sure. Bellatrix's eyes snapped back to Tom at once. He had turn around, slowly, to face Werther.
"You dare to question my power?" he asked in a quiet, deadly hiss.
Werther was staring at the stone floor, breathing heavily.
"D-Dumbledore will defeat you," he said, shaking so violently now that it couldn't be fear alone. He was angry. "Dumbledore will always be stronger, he – he's the most powerful wizard of our century, for god's sake! Nothing you do here can stop that!"
Tom was glowering at Werther, taking slow, steady steps towards him. He was too outraged, too infuriated to say a word. It occurred to Harry wildly that Werther wanted to be killed.
"T-torture me if you will!" Werther shouted, his eyes clenched shut. "Kill me, even! It will do you no good. Dumbledore will always succeed – as will the Order! Dumbledore is the most p-powerful, most respected w-wizard..."
"Is that so?"
Tom's eyes were glowing red with fury. The atmosphere in the room had changed dramatically, scaring even Bellatrix and Rodolphus.
"Of c-course it's true!" Werther spat in response to Tom's question. "Dumbledore will always win. D-Dumbledore will always succeed –"
"Avada Kedavra!" Tom hissed.
There was a flash of green light, then silence. Werther didn't make a sound, beyond the rustling of his cloak as he slid further towards the ground. Tremendous relief flooded Harry. He was safe. Nott was safe...
"My... My Lord?" Bellatrix whispered faintly, not daring to test Tom's patience.
Tom was staring at the corpse of Rufus Werther, breathing deeply. Harry knew he was thinking over the situation, but not a single emotion showed itself on Tom's face beyond rage. If he regretted killing Werther, it was only for the information he had lost.
"You have done a great service for the Death Eaters, Lestrange," Tom said in a low voice, staring off into space, "and I shall not forget this... However, I am in need of your company no more this evening. You may leave. Consider yourself a loyal Death Eater..."
"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix said. She blushed with thrill at having succeeded so powerfully today. "Thank you, my Lord!"
Bellatrix turned to go, catching Harry's eye on the process. She glowered at him smugly, knowing she had conquered over all other Death Eaters, earning Tom's respect with ease tonight. Again, Harry ignored her. He was distracted by Tom's distress. Bellatrix made her way out of the room, followed by Rodolphus, who was completely ignored by everyone.
Harry realised, suddenly, why he hadn't recognised Werther by name or by face at the first Order meeting. He was killed early. He was never photographed with the Order, he had never met Sirius, Moody, or any of the Order members Harry knew from a young age. He might have been forgotten entirely, even as the first member of the Order of the Phoenix to die in this war...
When the Lestranges were gone and when Harry and Tom were alone, Tom looked up from Werther's body for the first time, his jaw clenched.
"Dumbledore," he hissed, his voice nothing but a whisper. "It was Dumbledore who thwarted my Death Eaters' attempts to change the wizarding world, Dumbledore who turned witches and wizards against me... How did I not consider this? Dumbledore was always wary of my activities. Always too watchful..."
Harry knew that Tom was scared, but even as he watched Tom's eyes, he could see that terror turn to deeper anger. Tom ran a shaking hand through his hair, baring his teeth in fury.
"If Dumbledore is so willing to challenge my rise to glory, let us watch him test his power to that of Lord Voldemort, his dedicated Death Eaters, and the Knights of Walpurgis..."
That night, Tom was so agitated that he could do nothing but devise plans on how to catch Dumbledore's Phoenix spies. He wanted to capture them and find out the the names of more Order members in the process of weeding out the bad contacts of the Death Eaters. Above this, he wanted to immediate stop Dumbledore from gaining information on his Death Eaters. As an obvious first step, Tom ordered Avery and the others to stop trading for a few weeks. Even if Tom lost a large sum of profit from this, it was nothing to losing his secrecy...
Harry did the best he could to calm Tom, but he couldn't say he made very much success. Three days after Tom discovered the Order of the Phoenix, Harry was on his way to the Order Headquarters alone. He was full of regret for going behind Tom's back, but he knew he had no choice. If the Order members didn't realise that the Death Eaters were looking for them, the wrong witches and wizards could be murdered too soon...
The current Order Headquarters resided in a small cottage owned by Edgar Bones. When Harry arrived there this humid summer evening, he found that a meeting was already taking place.
"We haven't heard a thing from Werther in days," Bones was saying to a group of five other people. "I tell you, he could be up to something!"
"Like what?" Dorcas Meadows asked. "He wasn't a dark wizard."
"Then why have we come closer to attacks than ever before? Why have the Death Eaters stopped trading?"
Meadows gave no answer. She turned to look at Dumbledore, but found he was no longer watching the debates before him with calm interest. His eyes were on Harry.
"Do come in, Jonathan," he said. "Take a seat."
"I can't say," Harry explained shortly. "I'm only here to bring news."
Meadows, Bones, Dumbledore, Nott, Doge, and Dearborn all looked at him expectantly. Harry hadn't seen Nott in days; he had no work for the Death Eaters lately. He knew this would be news to him too...
"Werther was captured about a week ago," Harry began in a low voice, "by one of the Death Eaters. He was tortured and – and killed... Before he died, he gave Voldemort some valuable information on the Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort knows about the Order, now. He's stopping all his trades in fear of you gaining more information..."
The six witches and wizards before him were shaken deeply by the news. Elphias Doge looked away, trying to wet his lips in sheer nerves and shock. Bones stared at Harry, guilt catching him for thinking the worst in Werther. Meadows and Dearborn paled and looked towards Dumbledore, who surveyed Harry with solemnity alongside Nott.
"This is grave news indeed," Dumbledore said quietly, speaking for them all. "Thank you for informing us of this, Jonathan. You have saved much trouble..."
"I think we should stop all further investigation into the Death Eaters' activities," Meadows said at once. "If the Death Eaters are aware of the Order, they'll begin searching for anyone who treads too close to them. We'd be better off working on the information we have, for now."
"I think this would be a wise decision, yes," Dumbledore agreed.
"All of us should be cautious," Nott added. "Even in our daily lives. The Death Eaters aren't going to stop until they begin a list on who's in the Order."
"Will the information we have be enough, though?" Bones asked. "We don't have much to work on as it is."
"If it's enough to make Lord Voldemort suspect our Order's existence, it's strong enough information," Dumbledore answered calmly. "We can find other, less dangerous ways to gather information on the Death Eaters..."
As Dumbledore began discussing plans, Nott stood up quietly. He made his way across the room, towards Harry. Without a word, they turned to the front door of the cottage.
Out in the open air, Nott faced Harry with a serious look of curiosity. "When did the Dark Lord find out about the Order?"
"Three days ago," Harry answered honestly. "Werther was tortured by a new Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange. Tom knows about the Order and Dumbledore..."
"But not about the Order members?"
"No. Thankfully... Even through torture, I don't think Werther would have given up that information."
Nott nodded in understanding. Despite the depressing news that shook the other Order members, Nott was outwardly calm. Harry suspected that this was the result of being amongst the Order members all day, in an environment he was more comfortable with. It strengthened Nott, even if he felt secret remorse for Werther. Harry was relieved to see it.
"What happens now?" Nott asked. "Will the Death Eaters start attacking the Order?"
"It all depends on how much Tom finds out about them. There's bound to be a war between both sides eventually, but as long as the Order remains vigilant, they could stall fights for quite a while."
"I'm surprised the new Death Eater tortured Werther," Nott mused, appearing affected fort he first time. "Lestrange's daughter-in-law... I didn't expect her to be so viscous. Did Rodolphus help?"
"No. She acted alone, I think."
"Rodolphus must be jealous of that, surely?"
"If he inherited anything from Lestrange, then I'd say so, yeah," Harry said, suppressing a smile. "Tom's pleased with Bellatrix's work, anyway. I think she must have honoured the Lestranges, in some way. I'm sure this will be the height of her relationship with Rodolphus, being forced into another pure-blood marriage."
To his surprise, a smile formed on Nott's lips, lighting up his blue eyes. He thought, at first, that Nott was amused, but his happiness went deeper than that. He looked away from Harry, staring off into space, distracted by an unrelated thought.
"I met somebody," he admitted tenderly, eventually, still smiling warmly. "A witch, pure-blooded enough to impress my family, but she doesn't seem to believe in the lifestyle the richest pure-bloods lead. She's younger than I, of course, but she's a talented witch; she possesses an intelligence that would impress the Dark Lord himself..."
Harry was stunned. He watched Nott closely, seeing that his happiness overrode the sorrow he normally felt. A strange feeling gripped Harry, something close to compassion or relief.
"What's her name?"
"Evadne," Nott said softly, his smiling refreshing at the sound. "A name as beautiful as she herself is..."
Harry was glad, and surprised, that this new witch was important enough to distract Nott wholly from Lestrange. The change in Nott's expression, in his actions, made Harry believe he was completely serious about his feelings.
"It's been so long since I've cared about anyone like this," Nott carried on, looking at Harry now. "I don't know if it will last, but I hope dearly that it will. It's been too long since I've felt as happy as this..."
Harry smiled, intrigued by the happiness he saw in Nott's eyes. "I'd like to meet her," he said. "I'm glad you've found somebody."
Nott smiled, looking away. "I just hope it'll last..."
When they parted that night, Harry felt as if Nott's happiness had rubbed off on him, but he tried not to show it too obviously. He predicted, somewhat hopefully, that this witch, Evadne, was going to marry Nott and bear his only son, Theodore, but there was no way of knowing for sure so soon. Harry let the bright thought linger in the back of his head while he focused on the more pressing events happening around him.
The Order of the Phoenix avoided further losses thanks to Harry describing Tom's wariness, but this didn't stop Tom from ordering the Death Eaters forcefully to search for any man or woman who could be involved in Dumbledore's group. The Death Eaters understood that if they managed to capture an Order member and torture them for information like Bellatrix had, they would be praised above all others, like she was. The Order of the Phoenix was becoming the biggest target for the Death Eaters, despite the Order members being rare gems amongst Tom's enemies.
Despite how Tom acted around his Death Eaters, treating the subject of the Order of the Phoenix with anger and fury, Harry knew it was fear that truly motivated him, not wrath. Tom didn't discuss this openly, but the way he acted told Harry everything he needed to know. Tom barely ate, he barely slept – he rarely ever saw the light of day. He was constantly working, constantly planning. He was ordering the Death Eaters to do as he wanted almost every hour of the day.
In no time at all, Tom moved away from his house to live permanently in the Chimaera Hideout; the hideout closest the the Giants, as if he wanted these great beasts to protect him. Harry didn't much like this change, but he had no say in it. If he returned to the old house, he would rarely see Tom at all. He wondered, often, if Tom was unable to sleep due to fear. It would explain his excessive working.
One night, Harry awoke in the early hours of the morning to find candlelight illuminating the small room he and Tom stayed in. The soft, flickering light made shadows jump neurotically, fading and growing at random. When Harry looked around, towards the light, he saw that Tom's side of the bed was empty. Tom was sitting at his desk across the room, writing. Harry stretched in exhaustion, hearing the quick, faint scratching of Tom's quill as he pored over his work.
"What're you up to?" he asked groggily.
Tom did not pause in his writing, nor did he seem particularly surprised that Harry was awake.
"I have plans to make," he answered. "I thought of the perfect way to make a quiet attack on Dumbledore's Order members. I have found a way to obtain the name of every single witch and wizard who dares question the power of Lord Voldemort..."
Harry watched the back of Tom's head for a short while, breathing in and out heavily. He knew Tom was being paranoid. He knew that Tom hadn't created a master plan, he was merely calming his nerves by reminding himself that he had the power to command the Death Eaters however he wanted. Harry decided to get out of bed, moving across the room to be closer to Tom.
"Come on," he said tiredly, "you've been working all day. There's no use staying up."
"I need to work more," Tom said, brushing away Harry's outstretched hand as he reached for the quill. "I need to sort this out..."
Harry paused, wondering how best to approach this. He knew Tom was scared. In his best attempt to be comforting, he placed a hand on Tom's shoulder. Tom looked towards him slightly. Harry let his hand drop, saying, "You can't keep going like this, Tom."
After a short pause, in which Tom looked away, he sighed irritably. He seemed to understand that he was too tired to work, but he wasn't pleased about it. He was annoyed as he scribbling down a few more words hastily, standing up.
When he faced Harry, the look of annoyance froze on his face, before falling. Harry watched him closely, too tired to give any calming words of comfort. To make up for this, he reached for Tom's hand, pulling him towards the bed.
"It's cold without you," he murmured.
Tom followed him willingly enough, even when Harry's hand slid from his. Harry clambered onto his side of the bed, but while he lay back in exhaustion, Tom remained seated. He was no longer annoyed, but his expression remained serious. Harry saw this when he opened a tired eye.
"You should lie down," he said.
Tom shook his head once, saying nothing. Harry could tell he was still too stressed; it was obvious in the way he rested uncomfortably, the way he clenched his jaw and looked away. Harry propped himself up on his elbow, with great effort, and looked at Tom more closely. He reached for Tom's hand gently, urging him deeper into the bed.
With his encouragement, Tom followed. He reached for Harry's waist, as if distracted, now, from his previous frustration. Harry leant up to kiss Tom once, slowly. In the dim light of their room, he saw Tom's eyes slide open after the kiss. He regarded Harry with tenderness, sinking back until he was lying down properly. He was clearly glad he followed him to bed. Harry brushed back his hair, breathing out heavily as he allowed his head to drop to Tom's shoulder.
"I wish we had more time to be like this," he murmured, his hand tracing Tom's shoulder, then his arm. "I miss being with you, alone. Just the two of us..."
"A war is coming," Tom observed.
"Isn't that the best time to turn towards love?"
Tom shifted where he lay, holding Harry close. "I will have you always, my love."
"But I don't have you," Harry mumbled, before he could think twice. "I don't want to lose you to all the work you're doing..."
"You needn't fret. You won't lose me to this war."
Harry said nothing. He couldn't be sure that Tom's words were true... For the first time in his life, he didn't know how he wanted things would end between him and Tom. He didn't know if the Order of the Phoenix would win, or if Tom was going to somehow succeed more than he did in Harry's past. Harry didn't want to think about it. He slid his arm around Tom.
"I love you, Tom. I hope you know that."
"I do," he said gently. "I love you too..."
They stayed like this for a long while, locked in each others' arms, listening to the sound of each other breathing in the subtle light. Harry wasn't sure if Tom drifted off to sleep with him. When he awoke later that morning, Tom was already out of bed. He was talking to the Death Eaters, writing up plans, researching magic so advanced that Harry could barely follow it...
Tom's paranoia wasn't entirely a weakness, Harry soon learnt. As a result of the hours he spent obsessing over the protection of himself, Harry, the Knights, the Death Eaters, and his various beasts and creatures, Tom now seemed to be one step ahead of the Order of the Phoenix. In response to his own fear, Tom seemed to be trying to manipulate his enemies into a state of fear, first of all using the best weapon he had stored: the Dementors.
In the small feeding area Tom had set up for his Dementors (to win their loyalty by feeding them his enemies' souls), a large pile of dead bodies had built up. This was the result of Death Eaters killing off the enemies who lay useless and soulless there, ruined by the Dementor's Kiss. Upon these bodies, growing like fungi on rotten flesh, the Dementors had begun breeding, giving Tom a weapon he regarded with great reverence: an army of unregistered, unknown Dementors to his name.
These new Dementors, undetected by the Ministry, were soon released by Tom to spread fear throughout England, starting with London. Once set free, these Dementors were almost impossible to regulate or defeat. They were born on Tom's land, under Tom's rule, thus they would follow no commands the Ministry might throw at them. Every single man and woman in London – Muggle or Wizard, Ministry worker or Order member – would sense the changes happening around them. In a depressed state, the population would become far easier to manipulate and control.
Beyond these subtle manipulations, Tom had plans that involved much stronger, much more powerful beasts. He had sent his Death Eaters out on various missions to show terrifying displays of magic in front of Muggles (and often against them) to celebrate wizard supremacy and to make the Ministry's job a lot more difficult, but none of that compared to his plans for the Giants. He did what he knew would infuriate and alarm the Ministry most: he sent out a direct attack on the Ministry of Magic in London, above ground, in broad daylight, using four fully-grown Giants.
The impact this action was astonishing to all who heard and witnessed it. Aurors and Ministry officials were forced to use powerful, dangerous magic in front of the Muggle public to fight these beasts, while the number of Muggle eye-witness grew far into the hundreds and terror wrecked all of London. The Ministry was forced to kill all four Giants on the spot, but this was always Tom's plan. The struggle it took to kill one Giant alone was enough to bring any Ministry to its knees.
To the dismay of many Death Eaters, however, the mission did not go well for Tom's followers. Not long after the Ministry began fighting these Giants, the Order of the Phoenix showed up at the scene to fight off the Death Eaters and Knights involved. Harry had no idea how the Order formed an attack so quickly; he had no involvement in it. The Order fought so valiantly that a Knight died in a fight against them: Adelmar Dorn.
Tom was furious at the loss. It was revenge for Rufus Werther's death, but Tom saw it as a personal offence, especially as Dorn was one of his best, closest Knights. The Death Eaters were somewhere between joyous and sorrowful. They drank merrily in Dorn's name, knowing that he was one of the earliest deaths they'd had to face for this war. In the festivity, Harry was able to slip out of the Death Eater headquarters unnoticed, to inform Nott about the news.
When he arrived at Nott's house, he was surprised to find Nott was in good spirits. He was smiling when he answered the door, and the smile didn't fade even when he saw Harry, inviting him inside. He clearly hadn't heard about news from London.
"I have good news," Nott told Harry as soon as he was out of the cold.
Harry noticed, now, that Nott wasn't alone. Five or six witches and wizards were sitting and standing in his front room, talking merrily. Harry recognised Evadne amongst these people, as well as a few of Nott's relatives.
"What's the celebration?" he asked.
"Evadne and I are engaged," Nott explained. "I proposed to her last night."
Harry was stunned – and for the first time today, genuinely glad.
"That's brilliant," he said, smiling. The atmosphere of this house was so drastically different to the Basilisk Hideout, it was hard for him to comprehend. "It's perfect."
"It is," Nott agreed, grinning widely. "I'm – I'm amazed any of this is happening."
Harry could see this; Nott looked happier now than he had in all the years Harry knew him. It was a happiness he had never achieved through loving Lestrange, nor through following his orders as a Death Eater. It was pure, undamaged joy.
"But why have you come here?" Nott asked. "Is everything alright back at the headquarters?"
Harry trusted that Nott's frankness meant it was safe for them to speak here. Evadne and Nott's relatives were distracted in the other room. Without looking around, lest he should arouse suspicion, Harry spoke.
"Adelmar Dorn is dead."
Nott stared, his bliss being replaced by alarm. "Dorn? What happened?"
"Tom ordered an attack on London," Harry explained in a low voice, "using Giants. It was a secret operation, meant to scare the Ministry, and it worked, but there were complications. The Order attacked – probably as soon as they heard the explosions and noise from London. They fought the Death Eaters..."
The conflicting emotions in Nott showed themselves clearly in his shock. Dorn's death was awkward to the both of them; he had never been a fighting Death Eater. He wasn't a Death Eater at all, but a Knight of Walpurgis, who fought for Tom in respect for ancient legends and the Dark Arts, not for pride, blood purity, glory, or gore. Neither Nott nor Harry really believe he deserved this.
Before either of them could say a word more about it, Evadne approached them. Harry had met her a few months back and he couldn't say he disliked her; she was an intelligent witch who seemed honestly in love with Nott. They were perfect for each other, in Harry's opinion.
"Would you like to come and sit down?" she asked, her face flushed with contentment at the day's events. She smiled from Harry to Nott.
"I can't stay for long," Harry told her, "but congratulations, both of you. This is really wonderful news."
They both smiled. Harry couldn't help but feel infected by their joy. Even when he left their company, a warm feeling filled his heart at the memory of happiness in Nott and Evadne, a happiness that lit up Nott's bright eyes like nothing else. To Harry's disappointment, this empathetic feeling didn't last when he entered the Chimaera Hideout. The place was eerily quiet.
Harry was glad of the silence and glad the Death Eaters had all left. Their celebrating did his head in when they were here for too long – they were better off wandering the streets of London, annoying somebody else. In spite of this small relief, however, the silence locked within these walls seemed too deep to be normal. Harry tried to push the thought out of his mind, moving swiftly through the tall entrance hall of the hideout, but he noticed something else that made him pause.
There was blood at his feet. Fresh drops of it close to him, then more drops further on. The trail led out of the main hall, through the main meeting room, and up a flight of stairs that would lead to his and Tom's bedroom. Harry followed the trail, withdrawing his wand on instinct. He began heading upstairs, his ears straining to detect any sign of movement nearby. There was nothing to hear over the sound of his own breath.
The bloodstains became more curious the further Harry followed the trail. Small, struggling feet – and even hands – seemed to have scrambled up the staircase, soaked in blood. It was only when Harry reached the top of a flight of stairs that he saw the reason behind this. Tweaky, Tom's House-Elf, had been murdered.
There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Tom did this. Tom was not normally this brutal in his murders, these days, but who else would dare harm Tom's servant? If a Death Eater had done this, even drunk, there would be two bodies on the landing. What was more, Tom had been more apt to act on anger, lately. It worried Harry. He slid his wand back up his sleeve, heading for the bedroom.
He found Tom at his desk in their bedroom yet again, but tonight he was not poring over his notes. He sat very still, his hands brought together as if in prayer over his lips, his eyes closed. Although he showed no sign of it, Harry knew he must be aware of his presence. His suspicion was conformed when Tom spoke.
"The Order is strong," he said. "It's members are courageous, in all the most ignorant ways..."
"What happened to Tweaky?" Harry asked, ignoring Tom's paranoid demeanour. "Why did you murder him?"
Tom gave no answer, but carried on with his thoughts about the Order of the Phoenix. "They are pertinacious..."
"You did kill him, didn't you?"
Tom stood up, his hands clawing into fists in frustration. Still, he did not answer Harry. He didn't even look at him. Harry was caught between annoyance and worry. Tom had doubtlessly killed Tweaky, so why not admit to it? He supposed that Tom might have killed the House-Elf in wrath, making him too angry, even now, to speak of the crime. Harry took Tweaky's cold, blue corpse as a sign that Tom was falling apart under the pressure Dumbledore's Order put on him...
He decided to drop the subject, but it lingered at the back of his mind.
"Is there any new news?" he asked.
"Beyond the death of four Giants and the murder of a sacred Knight?" Tom asked scathingly. "No, none..."
Tom was angry – furiously so – at how the day had ended. Harry knew it wasn't the four dead Giants or even the loss of Dorn that affected Tom like this, however. It was the arrival of the Order of the Phoenix.
"The Aurors would have fought off the Death Eaters, even if the Order didn't," Harry said in a low voice, trying to reason with Tom's anger. "You knew there were risks."
"Risks, yes," Tom repeated in a hiss, "but was I to expect an organized attack from the Order of the Phoenix?"
Harry didn't answer. He moved across the room, taking a seat on the edge of their bed.
"If I had known the Order was so watchful, the Death Eaters could have foreseen their attacks – if they had, Adelmar Dorn would not be dead. The Order of the Phoenix would not be striking hopes in the hearts of the ignorant..."
"I don't know how they got there so soon," Harry murmured honestly. "It was a surprise to everyone."
"I feel that Dumbledore has been warned... I expected to have an advantage over Dumbledore with the information we acquired from his spy, but no such advantage has been within my reach. Does Dumbledore know I am aware of his Order's existence? How could he know..."
Harry became very conscious, suddenly, of the way he was sitting, the way he acted. He didn't know how to hide the terror that taunted him. If Tom suspected that Dumbledore had learnt certain information too early, he would start hunting a rat amongst his Death Eaters... Harry shut off his own emotions, going straight into a solution.
"Well, Dumbledore's spy died, didn't he? The Order would have noticed his disappearance in a matter of days. Dumbledore would have known what that meant."
Tom thought this over behind the anger he showed. Harry's words visibly calmed him.
"Dumbledore must have been planning to ambush the Death Eaters for months, anyway," Harry reasoned in his calmest voice, constraining his thoughts, "and today was an opportunity for it. He must have felt that the Order of the Phoenix was ready for their first fight against you."
"Why would he sacrifice the secrecy of his Order today, of all days? No sooner, no later..."
"Tom, you sent four Giants and an army of Death Eaters off to attack the Ministry of Magic in broad daylight, in front of hundreds of Muggles. Dumbledore would have done anything to stop that."
Tom knew this was true. The way Harry explained the situation was slowly forcing him out of his paranoia, making him look at today's events in a different light. It was exactly what he needed. It's what Harry needed, too, to stay safe.
"Dumbledore used my attack on the Ministry to his advantage," Tom muttered, more to himself than Harry, "to get his Order known..."
Harry couldn't deny this. Tom stared at the ground across the room, thinking hatefully of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry understood that Tom would only become more wary of the Order as time went on. He must have known, surely, that Dumbledore would one day try to stop him from seeking such power. Harry thought he might not have expected Dumbledore to attack so soon, or with such force. For the rest of the evening, as well as in the months that passed, Tom was in a constant state of anger.
Now that the Order of the Phoenix was known by the Ministry and largely whispered about amongst the public, more brave, able witches and wizards had decided to join it. Amongst these new recruits were Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, and two Aurors, Frank and Alice Longbottom. The Longbottoms, Harry soon learnt, had joined the Order after recognizing that the Ministry of Magic wasn't strong enough. They had been invited to join the Death Eaters, but had refused.
Harry was starting to see a lot of new faces amongst the Death Eaters too. The most unnerving new recruit, to Harry, was Abraxas Malfoy's young son, Lucius. He did not pose as a particular threat amongst Death Eaters, but Harry was distracted wholly by how much he looked like his son Draco at such a young age. Tom did not take particular notice of Lucius. He drifted amongst the richest pure-bloods, explaining proudly that being a Death Eater was all he could do after his father's involvement in the Pure-blood Riots.
Tom seemed less and less interested in knowing his Death Eaters as they grew in numbers. He didn't want the Death Eaters to be too familiar with each other, either – it put too much at risk, he told Harry. It compromised their secrecy. Death Eaters like Rookwood rarely ever stepped foot in Tom's hideouts at all; Rookwood communicated to him through letters or through other Ministry spies, but never in person. Knowing all of this, it struck Harry as curious when a group of four Death Eaters visited Tom in the Chimaera Hideout very late one evening, saying they had finished their work with the Werewolves.
Harry wasn't particularly interested in who the Werewolves had murdered this month (he had heard more than enough of their stories in London), but the Death Eaters' discussion of the Werewolves' work somehow drew him in alongside Tom. He gathered, from Tom's subtle signs of satisfaction, that the Werewolves had just succeeded in murdering someone important – a Ministry worker, perhaps, or an enemy Tom wanted to punish – but this didn't account for why Avery kept looking towards his three companions, Dolohov, Rosier, and Goyle, as if he was looking for another Death Eater.
Tom seemed to have noticed this too. His eyes swept across wizards in front of him.
"I thought I ordered five Death Eaters to look after the Werewolves?"
Goyle looked around, counting. "I dunno.. I've lost track of our lot, if I'm honest, my Lord."
"Wasn't Nott amongst you?" Tom asked.
"Yeah," said Dolohov thickly, "but I reckon he went back home, my Lord. He's got his fiancée and all – doesn't have much time for our work."
Harry's heart felt as if it skipped a beat painfully. He remembered why this Werewolf attack was important to him: Tom had forced Nott and Rosier to look after the seven Werewolves and Avery, Dolohov, and Goyle, knowing only too well that the the three Death Eaters might do a lousy job of directing this important mission.
Tom wasn't bothered by Nott's absence. He seemed to either believe Dolohov's theory or to just not care; his attention was pulled back to his initial reason for sending the Werewolves out tonight.
"Let us discuss your success further," he said, turning in the direction of the large, round table in the centre of the hall. "I want to know what information you retrieved from Mr Jones..."
"I'll be in the other room," Harry said faintly as he passed Tom, who nodded once in understanding.
Harry made his way up the stone staircase as calmly as he could. His heart was racing almost as quickly as his mind. He knew that Nott couldn't possibly be returning to Evadne at this hour; she didn't live at his house. His absence was strange, and the fact that the Death Eaters hadn't noticed him missing before was even stranger. When Harry entered his and Tom's bedroom, he decided, with surprisingly little hesitation, that he should go and investigate Nott's disappearance. He grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, throwing it over his shoulders and drawing up the hood.
On his way through the meeting hall, Harry's footsteps were masked by the sound of the the Death Eaters, who spoke of the Werewolves killing an entire wizarding family. "Squibs n' blood-traitors," Dolohov called them openly, scathingly, adding: "It's well worth them wolves stealing the pure blood from 'em." Harry knew the village the Jones lived in and he knew that from there, he'd be able to find the house that was attacked by these Werewolves. There would be Ministry Workers sectioning the place off, surely, or the Dark Mark looming above the scene...
Harry slipped from the Chimaera Hideout undetected, stepping out into the night. He hoped that Tom and the Death Eaters would continue talking for as long as it would take him to figure out what happened to Nott. He didn't know how much information he could gain from the crime scene that the seven Werewolves fled from, but he had a feeling he might be able to work out weather or not Nott had made a foolish mistake tonight...
When he Apparated to the little village where the Joneses surely lay dead in their home, he found that the Dark Mark was indeed looming high above him. He advanced towards the Marked house, hearing the howls of Werewolves across the distant fields. If any Aurors had Apparated to this scene, they'd surely be chasing the Werewolves now. Many of them might get caught by the Ministry tonight, but Harry knew that the best Werewolves – Greyback and McDarline, most of all – would escape with ease as the moon went down.
Under the safety of his Invisibility Cloak, Harry headed towards the Joneses residence. The white stone walls on the outside of the house were illuminated in emerald light, showing Harry that the front door had been forcibly smashed open. Even from the garden, Harry could see a thick trail of blood leading out of the house from the Werewolves stepping in their victims' remains. Harry's stomach knotted uncomfortably. He took out his wand, heading for the doorway.
"Homenum revelio..."
There was no one inside. Harry was hesitant to enter the house to investigate the remains, but he found, quite swiftly, that he didn't have to. His eyes fell across a trail of blood – amongst many – leading out of the house. This one was different to the others. It wasn't created from blood-stained paws and fur, it was made up of splotches and droplets of blood that formed a steady line. The trail curved outward, rounding the doorway, moving around the house. Harry followed it, his heart pulsing painfully.
The emerald light of the Dark Mark contrasted strangely with the fresh blood. It appeared black with green highlights, even in the places where blood smeared through the grass, wounded flesh dragged by some unknown person or creature. Whoever trudged through this tall, freshly parted grass had stumbled and staggered on their way, wounded and cowering. Harry felt as if he was going to be sick. The smell of flesh filled the air, nauseating him. The trail headed directly into a dark forest at the back of the house. Harry withdrew his wand again, approaching the trees with caution...
It was dark under the tall pine trees, too dark to see. The high canopy of leaves blocked out the moon, giving Harry no idea of the depth of this forest. He lit his wand. Around him, the ancient pine trees blocked out all sound, making him realise how loudly the wind had rung in his ears before. He wondered where the Aurors were now, or the Werewolves. He couldn't get caught here, like this... He searched for the trail of blood at his feet, following it with haste.
He didn't want to think about the possibility of someone being dragged into the forest by a Werewolf, or that person meaning something to him. The trail was getting thicker. Harry's heart was racing, his mind in disarray as he sped through the forest, scanning the trail. Twigs and rocks crumpled under his feet, echoing through the vast forest. His wandlight highlighted the forest floor, showing the trail until suddenly, it ended at the base of a tree.
Harry stopped. Why would the trail end here? There was nothing behind the tree, as far as he could see, and there was no sign of further struggle. In frustration, he took off the Invisibility Cloak, which was blurring his view and stopping his ability to look around. If a Werewolf were to pass by, they'd see the light of his wand, anyway, and they'd smell blood around him. It was after being visible that somebody spoke.
"Harry..."
It was Nott. Harry looked around, unsure where his voice was coming from. There was no one in sight. Then, he heard movement in front of him. He saw now, away from the distorted view of the Invisibility Cloak, that Nott was resting on the ground, propped up against the large tree. He was hidden with a Disillusionment Charm, which he soon removed. Harry breathed a sigh of relief...
Until he saw Nott in the light.
He alone was mostly responsible for the trail Harry had followed to this spot. His chest had been torn at furiously, his left arm ripped open. He was shaking badly, covered in dirt and blood and clutching something in his trembling, protective grip. Fright tore through Harry, causing him to move forwards before thought could catch up with him. He dropped to the ground besides Nott, reaching out a hand to better examine his wounds.
"What happened to you?"
"I – I c-couldn't let them – couldn't let them die," Nott managed hoarsely, tensed against the pain. "I couldn't... couldn't stand there and watch the W-Werewolves. I – I couldn't... I h-had to help her..."
It was then that Harry recognised what Nott held in his grip. It was a child, a young girl. Her face was buried into his chest, her dark hair blending with the black cloak he wore.
"It's alright," Harry said, his voice not quite as strong as he'd like it to be. "It's alright, you're safe now! Just – just stay calm. Is she hurt?"
"I don't – I don't kn-know.."
"Pass her here, I need to have a look at you both."
Nott attempted to pry the girl from his chest, but she wouldn't budge. She clung to him more closely, silently protesting. Harry took this as a sign that Nott was quickly losing strength. He moved closer, setting his wand aside to pick the girl up with both hands. She can't have been older than five or six. She was breathing heavily.
"It's going to be alright," Harry said, but he wasn't sure if his words were honest. "You're going to be okay..."
In the dim light of his wand, Harry could see there was a scratch across her stomach and another twisting around neck, curling up her round face. Harry didn't know how he was supposed to heal something like this. He picked up his wand. Her blood looked black and endless in the darkness. He didn't know if two scratches from a Werewolf was enough to kill a child, or if it would leave her cursed for the rest of her life. Her eyes were closed and large, silent tears leaked down her dirt- and blood-stained face. Harry tried the best healing magic he knew.
"Vulnera Sanentur..."
To his relief, the girl's cuts was slowly healing. This didn't account for the large amount of blood she had lost, but Harry didn't think to consider this. He did the magic again, and again, until her wounds knitted themselves back together, healing. It left horrific scars. The girl clung to Harry without a word.
He turned his attention to Nott. Against his will, he hands were shaking.
"Why did this happen?" he asked numbly. "Did you fight the Werewolves?"
"I d-don't know... I don't know w-what happened..."
Harry recognised the wounds on Nott as definite Werewolf scratches. A lucky escape, since he was still breathing. If he had attempted to rescue this girl in a moment of terror, he had made the mistake of letting the Werewolves know he was fighting against them. Harry hated to think what tonight's events would do to this now orphaned child...
"I h-had to run," Nott murmured, "I had to – to hide... I used a Dis- Disillusionment Ch-Charm... and got r-rid of the s-smell of blood..."
Harry had to admit to himself that this was quick thinking. If a Werewolf had already walked a trail of blood through the Joneses' house, Nott's falling, scentless blood would have gone unnoticed as he escaped with the young girl. Even when he passed the Death Eaters, the shadows of night would have shielded him wholly over the Disillusionment Charm. Harry wished only that Nott had been this cautious with his initial desire to rescue the girl...
He realised, then, that he wasn't helping anything by just staring at Nott's wounds, but he had no idea how to cure something like this. Were wounds inflicted by Werewolves supposed to be treated in a certain way? Would Nott die from this if Harry wasn't careful? Everything Harry knew about Werewolves seemed to slip from his mind in spite. Fuelled by stress, Harry tried the same magic that worked on the girl.
"Vulnera Sanentur..."
The magic worked on Nott too. Harry continued to concentrate on it, ignoring the pounding of his heart, which shook his very fingertips in fear. He repeated the magic a second time, and Nott's chest was healing. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the large tree trunk. He was breathing heavily, panting in trembling breaths...
"I was a f- a fool," he murmured faintly. "I couldn't have s-saved those people. They always would have – have d-died... Not even a Kn-Knight could overth-throw beasts l-like that..."
"Vulnera Sanentur..."
The girl's weight shifted in Harry's arms. He held her closer, distracted by his attempts to examine Nott's healed wounds. There was no healing him fully; deep, obvious scars stretched across his chest, visible through rips in his blood-stained robes. Nott's eyes slid half-open to watch Harry. Without pausing, Harry moved his attention to Nott's arm, where blood continued to seep. He was bitten. Harry's heart seemed to turn to ice.
"T-the Dark... The Dark Lord w-will know... He'll k-kill me for this..."
Harry tried hard not to think of this, either. "I'm not going to let that happen."
Harry pushed up Nott's sleeve carefully, looking at the huge bite there. It was placed just above his Dark Mark, leading to his upper arm. The bite was deep. The girl's grip on Harry's chest loosened. He retracted his left arm to hold her close, using his right hand to begin the same magic.
"Vulnera Sanentur..."
Nott was struggling, but Harry had a feeling it wasn't physical pain that tormented him. Harry fixed his arm the best he could, dreading what scar this bite might leave. Nott met Harry's gaze in the wandlight when he was healed. He knew they were thinking the same thing.
"The Dark Lord won't... won't forgive this c-crime... You can't – c-can't stop that..."
Harry shifted where he knelt, breaking eye-contact. "He doesn't have to know... No Werewolf can remember their transformations, nor who they attack – and anyway, none of the Death Eaters saw you leave. We can hide this. I can keep Tom from knowing..."
"And what if my Lord s-sees you are protecting me?" Nott asked in a whisper. "He'll know I don't agree with the Werewolves... He'll su-suspect I'm i-in the Order..."
Harry had to shift the girl's weight again. She slumped in his arms.
"I'll be discreet," Harry answered. "The important thing is that you're healed and that we hide what's happened here tonight. We can bring this girl to the Order. They'll look after her, and..."
He trailed off, distracted. He realised, suddenly, that the girl was uncommonly still. She hadn't said a word, she hadn't made a sound, but her hands clutching at Harry's shoulders had fallen away. The blood drained from Harry's face, his breath paused. The girl's head slumped against his shoulder and her breath had ceased completely. She was dead.
Harry couldn't say a word. He wanted the shake the girl awake, to ask if she was okay, but he knew it would do no good. She was gone. Nott was staring at Harry with wide eyes. He was too reluctant to tear his gaze away, but he could read the situation in the expressions Harry couldn't hide.
"S-sh-she's," Nott stammered, "s-she's..?"
Harry couldn't bear to see what this was doing to him. There was nothing he could do to soften the loss. He knew what he had to do next.
"I... I'll need to bring her back to the house..."
Nott shook his head in shock, tormented by suffering, but there was no reason for him to stop Harry. Holding the corpse of the dead girl close to him, Harry stood up. Nott was forced drop his shining eyes to the peaceful expression of the girl he had tried to save.
"Wait here," Harry murmured, "I'll be back in a minute..."
Nott's breathing grew deeper. His eyes closed. Harry left as quickly as his legs would carry him, stepping out of the trees, into the green light that the Dark Mark shed upon the scene. He tried not to take in too many details when he entered the house of the Werewolf attack. There were footprints running all through the hall, leading upstairs. He followed the trail. It led to a bedroom, where a double-bed was soaked in a pool of crimson liquid, its sheets and blankets ripped to shreds.
There were two corpses soaked in blood, half-hidden in the shadows. Harry didn't dare look closely at them. These two people (or more – he couldn't truly count the remains) were clearly the parents of the lost girl. He decided not to leave her corpse in here. He went to her bedroom instead, where her and Nott's blood had first spilt. He rested her on her small bed, which she had scrambled out of before at the sound of intruders. She may as well have been sleeping. Harry was about to turn away, to leave her corpse, when he realised something.
He couldn't leave her healed. Anyone who saw the scar on her neck would realist that someone had attempted to save her life. At first, Harry was unsure how he could help this. He tried to remember any magic that would reverse a healing spell, but he didn't believe any existed. There was only one thing he could do. Hating himself, he advanced towards the girl's peaceful corpse, taking out his wand. He traced his wand along the freshly healed wounds on her neck and stomach. When these cuts were fully reopened, he left the room, reluctant to look at the fresh blood that leaked from her. He left the house feeling sick. He would never discuss this with Nott, nor anyone...
Back in the forest, Nott hadn't moved. His eyes were closed when Harry approached. He was breathing heavily, but again his anguish wasn't due to physical pain. Harry didn't know if it was a fear of Tom that got to him, or his loss, or what results this night would have on him. Maybe all three... Harry decided not to let him stay in sorrow for too long.
"Come on," he said, kneeling down and placing a hand on Nott's shoulder to urge him forwards. "Let's get out of here before the Ministry shows up."
"I can't – I can't go home," Nott told him hoarsely, "I can't risk being seen by – by Evadne or – or anyone. I can't go..."
"We can't stay here. Come on, we'll go somewhere else."
Nott was reluctant. He was shaking his head, his eyes still tightly shut.
"We have to go, Christopher. The Werewolves will find you here. If we don't get away from this village, out of the moonlight –"
"No. N-no I can't..."
Nott's chest was rising and falling in deep, constrained breaths. He continued to shake his head, but no amount of clenching his eyes shut could stop his tears from falling.
"I can't – c-can't become one of them," he whispered. "I can't live l-like that... I don't want to – to be one of them... I don't want to k-kill... I c-can't be..."
They could hear the distant cries of Werewolves and even, if Harry wasn't imagining it, the sound of spell-fire. He urged Nott up in desperation, unable to stand the hysteria that caught him, suddenly. He managed to get Nott to his feet, but he couldn't stand up on his own. Harry held Nott close, trying hard to not hurt him. He trembled and slipped where he stood.
"We're going to Apparate," Harry told him shakily, knowing it might be a struggle. "Are you ready?"
"Ye-yes..."
Harry took his word for it. He span on the spot and with a deafening 'crack' that rang throughout the forest, they were gone.
He had Apparated to a deserted warehouse that was normally used by Death Eaters to scare people, to threaten them or interrogate them. In this side of England, the clouds obscured the moon. Harry knew this wouldn't last. He knew, too, what would happen in a matter of minutes if Nott had contracted lycanthropy. He wouldn't allow Nott to get caught by any Ministry, Death Eater, Werewolf, or Dark Lord. He wouldn't allow Nott to kill or be killed tonight...
He knew Nott shared his thoughts. Even as they stumbled through the door of this abandoned warehouse, he was trembling in Harry's arms, his limbs jolting unnaturally. He slid through Harry's grasp before either of them could stop it. Harry knelt down above him, fearing, at first, that he was weak from his badly-healed wounds. Harry tried to stay brave for him, but he was finding it progressively more difficult.
"Don't – don't leave," he asked of him desperately. He reached out a hand to touch Nott's face, urging him to look up. He was terrified for the first time. "Just stay with me! It's going to be alright..."
Nott shook his head, his eyes sliding open. He was drawing in deep, strained breaths, sweating heavily, his body still shifting as if changing uncomfortably. Harry knew what was coming. He could see that past the affliction in Nott's eyes, something was taking over.
"I d-don't w-want this," Nott stammered. "I d-don't want t-to b-be th-..."
"It's alright," Harry told him. "It's alright, just stay calm! You're safe here. Just –"
He wasn't sure Nott could hear him anymore. He was changing before his very eyes.
"Christopher?"
Nott moved so much beneath Harry that he was forced to stand up. He tried to back away from Nott quickly, but the transformation was already happening. He was groaning in a low voice in pain, his voice changed in pitch, growing harsher and higher. He was staggering to his feet, twisting as if the horrific beast within him was about to break through his skin.
Harry couldn't wait around any longer. Fur began to spout and break out across Nott's skin. He was rasping and howling in pain, somewhere between human and beast, but far from conscious thought. Harry wanted to help him, but he knew there was nothing he could too. A young Werewolf was too dangerous to stay around. Withdrawing his wand, Harry moved at once to the exit of the warehouse.
Once outside, he slammed the door shut behind him, hoping this place was strong enough to contain a new Werewolf without complications. He locked the door with magic, hearing the thrashing, crashing, and howling of Nott as he raged through this contained area. He could smell blood of the Death Eaters' victims on the ground, surely, or the blood on his robes and on Harry's skin.
Dread was the only thing Harry felt as he stared at the ground in front of him blindly, listening to the sound of Nott's transformation. He knew that if Tom discovered Nott's new secret, if he found out that his loyal Knight had betrayed him by fighting off Werewolves, there would be dire consequences. Tom would figure out he was a part of the Order of the Phoenix. He would take his paranoia and blame it all on this one traitor. He would kill Nott before anyone could stop it...
Harry was forced to leave Nott alone in the warehouse that night. He knew the Knight was more than able to look after himself, but guilt weighed heavily in his heart. He returned to the Chimaera Hideout to find that Tom was indeed still talking to his Death Eaters; more of them had joined him now to speak of their recent work. Harry slipped back into his bedroom under the Cloak, cleaning himself off up there. He rested for five minutes to calm his nerves before returning downstairs.
Tom didn't notice nor suspect that Harry had slipped out of the hideout, unnoticed, to help Nott. He barely paid Harry any attention as the Death Eater meeting went on, in fact, and Harry was glad of it. The next morning, when Tom was working, he slipped out of the hideout again to visit Nott's house, finding that the Knight was safe. The Death Eaters were not bothered that Nott had disappeared the night before and the Werewolves indeed had no recollection of fighting Nott for the life of the dead girl.
The only inconsistency in all of this was the girl's corpse hadn't been ripped to shreds by Werewolves, but no one seemed to want to hear details on her death anyway. The Ministry was angry at the attack and even angrier that they hadn't caught a single Werewolf to blame for it. Nott was visibly tense any time the Death Eater brought up the subject from this day on, but Harry didn't suppose anyone noticed. The first few months, at the full moon, were dangerous and stressful for both Harry and Nott.
To avoid complications, Nott spoke to Dumbledore openly and quietly about his lycanthropy, explaining that he might not be able to take part in certain activities with the Order. Dumbledore was, to no surprise, understanding and compassionate about his condition. He told Nott that if he so desired, he could migrate to Hogwarts during the full moon to transform away from the reach of Death Eaters and the Ministry. Nott accepted his offer with gratitude. It was the only thing that would keep him safe.
Although Harry couldn't help Nott during his transformations, he wanted to do anything he could to help eradicate the social dangers of his new condition. He was able to accomplish this by covering for Nott during the full moon. Through subtle manipulations and false information given to Death Eaters, through lies and even through Curses, Harry influenced a reason every full moon for Nott's absence.
It helped that Tom was too interested in the Werewolves' missions to care about his Knights during the full moon. He was also too distracted by the growing number of Death Eaters to think about every singe follower he had every day of the month. What was more, the youngest Death Eaters were always eager to take new assignments from Tom; the only time he handpicked Knights and Death Eaters anymore was during particularly delicate missions.
Tom wanted to manipulate a larger number of people to do what he asked them to and he managed this through sending the Death Eaters to threaten unsuspecting people through bribery, brutality, torture, or murder. The Death Eaters only got more violent as time went on. They lied, stole, corrupted, and overpowered hundreds of people for dedication for their Lord. They were at war with the entire Wizard World, forcing their opinions on any witch or wizard who dared to question their way of life, until whole families were being forced to comply to Tom's wishes through threats of death alone.
It was a surprise to no one when the Ministry of Magic started bending its rules to apply more force and resistance against dark wizards again. This began when a considerable number of Aurors died at the hands of Death Eaters, who then got away without a scratch. Despite Nobby Leach losing his place as Minister for Magic for doing the exact same thing in his last year in power, Bartemius Crouch, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, wanted to fight violence with more violence. The public were not at all opposed to the change, this time.
Harry found that the Ministry's brutality didn't scare the Death Eaters any more now than it had in the past – on the contrary, the Death Eaters seemed encouraged and motivated by the idea of a good fight. Even when Death Eaters returned to Tom's Hideouts with wounds and scars from progressively darker magic used by the Aurors, they were proud and unfazed. Smarter Death Eaters like Rosier and Lestrange were even using the Ministry's brutality as way to confuse and manipulate Aurors into further disarray.
They accomplished their manipulations through putting random witches and wizards under the Imperius Curse, controlling them like puppets to work as Death Eaters. When the Cursed sorcerers were caught by the Ministry and apprehended, Rosier and Lestrange would then break the Imperius Curses, causing their puppets to go into a state of genuine shock and apparent amnesia. The witches and wizards would plead desperately for the Ministry to believe that they were working under the influence of the Imperius Curse.
With so many people claiming to be victims of the Imperius Curse, the Wizengamot was forced to reconsider how quickly they sent witches and wizards to Azkaban, even if the individuals in question had committed terrible crimes. The Ministry was baffled, frustrated, and unwilling to assume any truths. It was a choice between risking Death Eaters walking free and risking innocent people being imprisoned. As well as doing this for mere amusement, Harry suspected Rosier and Lestrange wanted to fight without fighting and wanted to prepare the Ministry for their own lies, should they get caught in the future.
Harry began to realise just how dangerous it was for Tom's newest Death Eater recruits. A wave of recently-graduated students from Hogwarts showed up and Harry noticed Snape, Wilkes, a young Avery, and a young Dolohov amongst them. Almost as soon as they joined the Dark Lord, these wizards were expected to take part in assignments that risked their lives, freedom, and sanity. Tom knew the Death Eaters were willing to fight anyone to impress him, so he put this motivation to whatever use suited him.
The arrival of new Hogwarts students prompted Tom into reforming ideas for his Diary Horcrux. He planned to re-open the Chamber of Secrets, to terrorize Dumbledore from within his very school. To accomplish this, he needed to work on magic (and even create new magic) to possess and control someone from afar, to protect the journal from harm, and to ensure that Dumbledore had no idea what was haunting his school. Tom knew Dumbledore would stay the headmaster of Hogwarts for as long as it took this war to end, so he would have to attack the school from within...
In paranoia, Tom believed that Dumbledore was raising the students of Hogwarts to fight against him. He believed (perhaps with reason) that Dumbledore had provided his students with additional knowledge and skills in preparation for the Wizarding World War, shaping their views to make them hate the Dark Arts. As a result, he wanted to gather the best students of Hogwarts for the Death Eaters. He had Snape, Wilkes, and the others in his command, so he demanded to know the names of all the strongest witches and wizards who had graduated from Hogwarts this year.
"Dumbledore knows that if I had taught at Hogwarts, I would have influenced students to join me in dedication to the Dark Arts," Tom told Harry one night, explaining the situation over dinner. "Either he is wary and wise or he has shared the same ideas as I. If the latter, I shall take his new soldiers from him..."
"They might have already picked sides in this war," Harry commented, knowing Dumbledore always encouraged his students to strive for the light. He picked up a goblet full of wine. "In which case, at least we got a few new Death Eaters from him, this year."
"I will bribe his graduated students, nonetheless," Tom told him. "They are still young, thus their minds are malleable. Our new Death Eaters have spoken of many fine witches and wizards I could convert. Another Black is amongst them, as well as a Potter."
Harry choked on his drink. He thought he can't have heard Tom correctly, at first. The arrival of Snape had warned Harry that the Marauders were close, but no amount of thinking about his parents could prepare him for hearing Tom speak about the Potters. The name was too unusual coming from his lips, especially spoken with such calmness. Harry coughed a few times, trying to regain his breath.
"And you – you want them on our side?"
"Yes, most avidly," said Tom, so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't notice Harry's odd behaviour. "I'm sure Dumbledore has his eyes on them already... If we act early, we could have them join us before they even know about the Order of the Phoenix."
Harry wasn't confident in the idea. He had no clue how Tom would even attempt a request for Sirius and James to join the Death Eaters.
"I assume Lestrange is proud of what his daughter-in-law, Bellatrix, has tied to his family name," Tom carried on idly. "The Blacks are most eager join this revolution, I believe. Potter too is of pure-blood and there is no doubt in my mind that he will be tempted to join us, to honour his family. He is a wealthy young man, and rumour has told me that the witch he is most interested in is both powerful and as skillful as he. They have close ties to the Pettigrews, what is more."
Harry was finding it very hard to act normally while Tom spoke about this. He had no idea that Lily, James, Sirius, and even Peter were offered to become Death Eaters so early.
"What are you going to offer them?" he asked. "If honouring blood-purity isn't enough, I mean."
"I'll offer them whatever they desire," Tom answered simply. "Fame, wealth, protection, power, knowledge... a mix of it, even. We have an excess of all, but nothing could compare to the value of stealing strong recruits from Dumbledore's grasp."
"That's a good idea," Harry said slowly, "but I'm not sure if that will be enough, if Dumbledore already formed their opinions for them. They might not be able to suppress their pride for Dumbledore."
Tom bared his teeth at the idea, a cruel thought coming to mind. "Then their pride will be turned from Dumbledore to a worthier leader..."
They didn't discuss it any more that night, but it soon became apparent that Tom was determined to take any potential Order members from Dumbledore, any witches and wizards who might pose as a threat to him later on. He had a list of people he was keen to turn into Death Eaters (even Slughorn was on the list) and pretty soon, he was researching the lives of these witches and wizards individually, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
Not a month after their conversation, Tom sent out packs of Death Eaters to speak with certain individuals. After seeing various people accept and decline Tom's offer, Harry began to realise that the Death Eaters only ever left people two options: join us, or become an enemy to the Dark Lord. The latter option almost always ended in threats or murder from the same Death Eaters who were sent out to request an allegiance.
The reason for Tom's brutality was obvious; if witches and wizards refused his offer, he feared they would turn to Dumbledore for solace and protection. Although many people weren't wise enough to do this in time, Harry knew Lily and James Potter would be. Their names on Tom's list grew ever nearer, while thoughts in Harry's mind started returning repetitively to a half-blood Tom failed to appreciate: Remus Lupin.
With the Wizarding World War going on, Lupin was in a lot of danger. Tom had no idea he was a Werewolf, but if he found out, he would either force Lupin into work with his Wolves or kill him on the spot. He would see Lupin as a threat to his pack of Werewolves, knowing very well that Dumbledore's compassion spread willingly to 'half-breeds'. To protect Lupin from the horrors of the Dark Arts, to help the Order, and to influence Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter to turn to the Order too, Harry knew what he must do.
Before Tom could so much as convince Peter Pettigrew to join him, Harry was on his way to Nott's house. Nobody was home except Nott, who answered the door with a halfhearted smile upon seeing Harry. He looked ill, even in the dim light of the hallway. The full moon wasn't far away.
Nott invited Harry to sit in his living room, opening a discussion about the Order's most recent plans and missions. It was after talking about new Order members that Harry was able to open the issue that was on his mind.
"Tom has been searching for new recruits, lately. He's sent out scores of Death Eaters to bribe or threaten people into his work..."
Nott nodded once, slowly. After a certain degree of suspicion, he said, "I don't think Evadne would be interested."
Harry understood his confusion at once. "Oh, no, I'm not here to ask that."
Nott looked almost relieved.
"It's just, Tom's been hunting a lot of young wizards fresh from Hogwarts," Harry explained. "There's a particular wizard, Remus Lupin, who I think you should go meet with."
"Has Dumbledore suggested it?"
"Not exactly, no... This wizard isn't an Order member yet, but I think he should be. He's not a dark wizard. He was bitten by a Werewolf at a young age and he's had lycanthropy almost all his life. You know that with this war, he'll have to choose sides whether he likes it or not. If you convinced him to join the Order, I think it would do all of us a lot of good."
For the first time, Nott seemed at a loss for words. His bright eyes lingered on Harry's green ones, showing a sense of empathy Harry had never seen in healthy, uninfected beings. Nott had struggled between great hate and great sorrow for the Werewolves these last few months, but it seemed that news of a young Werewolf swayed his opinion towards the latter. Without restraint, he agreed to do it.
Nott discussed the subject of Remus Lupin with Dumbledore soon after Harry suggested it. Dumbledore might have had plans to recruit Lupin already, but all Harry cared about was getting Nott and Lupin to meet. If they talked together, they might see that they weren't entirely alone. Remus Lupin undoubtedly had a need to seek revenge against Fenrir Greyback, so there was no better place for him to be than in the Order of the Phoenix. To Harry's relief, Lupin joined them at Nott's offer.
Lupin joining the Order of the Phoenix struck an immediate change in James, Lily, Sirius, and Peter. It was during the process of them finding out about the Order when Tom sent out his Death Eaters to recruit James Potter, oblivious to the changes Harry had inflicted. The Death Eaters returned to the Chimaera Hideout with bad news, Black speaking to Tom privately about it. Tom returned from their discussion in a rage.
His mood changed the atmosphere of the entire Chimaera Hideout, causing the Death Eaters around Harry to fall silent and tense. Tom began barking orders at those who stood in his way, hissing scathingly at those foolish enough to ask him questions. It became clear to everyone that testing Tom's patience was a very bad idea. Even the most brutish Death Eaters slid away from him the moment they could, refusing to answer any questions the others threw at them about what had happened with James Potter.
Many excuses were given by the Death Eaters to leave. Others merely followed in silence, hoping to go unnoticed under their Lord's burning gaze. Tom left the main hall without saying a thing to anyone. Harry soon followed him, unfazed by the many pairs of eyes that locked to him in his brave endeavour.
Up in the library, Tom was trying to contain the fury that possessed him. He sat in a handsome, crimson armchair, closing his eyes and leaning forwards, the tips of his fingers brought together before his lips. There was no fooling Harry that he was calm: he knew Tom wanted nothing more than to murder any mortal who dared cross his path.
"What happened tonight?" Harry asked, sitting in a chair opposite Tom. "I haven't seen you this angry since you found out about the Order."
Tom didn't appreciate the reminder. "Potter is undoubtedly already trained for such work..."
Harry didn't know what to make of this. Tom carried on talking, perhaps glad for someone to discuss his anger with.
"My youngest Death Eaters were right to boast of the strength of James Potter, but they overlooked one detail. His mind is ruined. He is, undoubtedly, one of Dumbledore's loyal soldiers..."
"Did... did Potter fight the Death Eaters off?"
Tom shook his head once, parting his hands and sitting up in his chair. When he opened his red, burning eyes, he stared at the low ceiling above them, anger stilling his movements and causing him to glare. "He escaped an attack. Alongside Evans..."
Harry was about to say this wasn't so bad, until he remembered that eighteen-year-olds didn't normally escape the power of the Greatest Dark Wizard of All Time on a whim. He hated to think what magic the Death Eaters would have attempted on Lily and James if they hadn't fought them – or what magic they used when they saw a willingness to defend.
"Dumbledore is a fool to create enemies for me within the walls of Hogwarts," Tom said in a hiss, his teeth bared and his words ringing with such force, even Harry was unnerved by it. "If he wishes to raise an army against me, then I will accept his challenge. I will take down every guilty soul who dares to question the true power of magic. My magic... Evans and Potter have defied me once, but they shan't do it again..."
Harry was internally startled by Tom's words. He knew that his parents would 'thrice defy' Voldemort, as the Prophecy described it; this was their first step towards marking themselves for death. There was only one good thing Harry could see from all this – Lily and James had proved themselves to be worthy Order members and Dumbledore wasn't going to hesitate before accepting them.
Tom was furious when he found evidence to suggest that Potter and Evans had indeed joined the Order of the Phoenix. He was even more enraged when Sirius Black followed their lead. Regulus Black had joined the Death Eaters, but he wasn't yet proving to be as talented as his older brother. Regulus had done nothing to impress Tom beyond join him at a young age. He was an utter disappointment when compared to his cousin Bellatrix.
While more Death Eaters joined Tom and whole families were dedicating their lives to fighting for wizarding supremacy, many followers – Avery, Dolohov, Rosier, Black, Malfoy, and Lestrange amongst them – felt that it was an insult when Death Eaters didn't give up their sons and daughters to the Dark Lord. This lead many of the Death Eaters to question who had worthy sons and daughters. More than this, who had any children at all.
Harry discovered, quite by accident, that the Death Eaters were unimpressed by Nott's lack of children. Avery, to no surprise, was the first one to voice his opinion on the matter. The Death Eaters were waiting by an abandoned railway station for Tom to show up with three other men. They had committed another terrible murder tonight, but this time it wasn't to bribe or scare people. It was to trap whatever Auror was foolish enough to come here alone a the sight of the Dark Mark.
"You're from a good bloodline," Avery told Nott, as if this was news to him. "It'd be a waste if you never had children!"
"I am engaged," Nott reminded him, his tone casual yet disbelieving, as if nothing Avery said affected him. "My search for love is over."
Crabbe chuckled nearby. "Of pure blood, is she?"
"Of course."
"We should consider you lucky to find as fine a pure-blood witch as you did," said Black, who took it as a sign of dedication that Nott had waited so long before marriage. "It was better to wait than to waste your blood on someone lesser."
"You've been engaged for ages though," Avery complained. "Get married!"
"What's the rush?"
Avery looked dumbfound at the question. "There's a war going on!"
Nott laughed for the first time, but Harry didn't think it was genuine. "That's a fair point."
"The sooner you have children, the better," Avery told him. "My sons are almost all grown up now, but that only makes them more important to me. To this world, as well."
Nott smiled weakly, saying nothing. Harry continued to pretend he hadn't listened to this conversation, but it made him think a lot about what the Death Eaters must think about his situation. They didn't question his blood-purity anymore and they didn't seem to expect news of him finding a worthy wife. They knew he wasn't any more interested in marriage than Tom was. They had grown up knowing Harry and Tom were close and their calmness with the matter likely spread to the new generation of Death Eaters.
Whether they now believed that Harry and Tom were too dedicated to the Dark Arts to care, or too hesitant to stick to matrimony and monogamy, or too disinterested in seeking wives for other reasons, they never voiced it. They might not even think about it at all in fear of the Dark Lord's anger. Harry was Tom's closest Knight, so the Death Eaters truly believed he had power the Dark Lord respected. What interested Harry most, as an idle thought, was they probably weren't entirely wrong.
"You do want kids though, don't you?" Avery asked Nott.
"Yes," Nott answered distractedly.
"You'd better get a move on then, if you want your fiancée to be the mother. More eager men will take her if you don't."
Nott ignored Avery's advice and the subject was soon dropped. As much as Nott hid it, Harry had a feeling that Avery's words rang in his ears for the rest of the evening, pulling his thoughts back to marriage and parentage. The following day, in the gardens of Nott's house, Harry found out why.
"I find myself reluctant to go through with marriage," he said, staring off into the sunlit countryside in front of them. "I wanted it more than anything before. But now I'm not so sure..."
Harry didn't know what to make of this. "You still love Evadne though, don't you?"
"Yes, that's why I feel this way. If she were a common pure-blood that I wanted to marry to please my parents, I don't think I'd care, but you know that I love her. I can't bear the thought of infecting her life with what I am. Infecting our children with this disease..."
"You've been able to deal with this condition so far," Harry pointed out, hoping to force a better view on him. "She's not closed-minded – she cares about you and I don't think you being a Werewolf could change that."
"It would be a waste of her good blood."
"You think you'd pass on your lycanthropy?"
"Yes. Have you never heard people speak of half-breeds?"
"You're not a half-breed. Lycanthropy is a condition – it's more of an illness than anything."
"That doesn't mean I won't pass it on. It truly isn't worth the risk..."
Harry wanted to say that he knew it was going to be perfectly fine, but he remembered that even Lupin had been scared to have children. It could have been nothing but good luck that Teddy Lupin was born without lycanthropy. Or it could have been the result of the regular doses of Wolfsbane Potion Lupin took. Harry was starting to believe Nott had no hope, until he remembered something else.
"It's common for witches and wizards to spread rumours about this sort of thing. Especially the Death Eaters – all they stand for is blood-purity and wizard supremacy; they think racism and prejudice is a joke."
"Even the Ministry believes Werewolves are lesser beings."
"That doesn't mean they're right."
Nott didn't seem to trust his word. As a pure-blood, he had been told all of his life that blood-purity mattered and that other humans and beings were less fortunate than he, less valuable, if they were anything but pure-bloods too. Although he believed that all people were equal and blood-status didn't matter, it was hard to shake off a fear of lycanthropy when it endangered the lives of people he loved.
"I still wouldn't take peoples' hateful words into consideration," Harry murmured, watching the setting sun's rays filter through the tall grass around them. "People are often wrong in large numbers."
Still, Nott couldn't shake off his anxiety. "Even if, by some miracle, I didn't pass this condition on, what sort of father would I be to leave my children the failures of my life to carry? As a Werewolf alone, they'd be shunned..."
Harry thought Nott might have a point here, but he was considerate enough to be silent about it. As a Death Eater, Nott was marking his unborn son Theodore to be a suspect to the Ministry. As an Order spy, Nott risked him being an enemy to the Death Eaters too. As a pure-blood, Nott doomed him for prejudice and as a Knight of Walpurgis, he passed on a duty to worship the Dark Arts. As a Werewolf, on top of all that, Nott risked that Theodore would be hated by the whole wizarding world.
"This is why we're in the Order though, isn't it?" Harry asked, sitting back in his chair as he thought about it. "We're here to fight oppression and prejudice. As long as the Order exists, your children will be safe."
This was all perfectly true, assuming Theodore Nott didn't willingly take a more dangerous path in life. Nott seemed to be thinking something along the same lines. He thought about it deeply, his expression serious.
From what Harry remembered about Theodore Nott, he had always been a quiet student who stuck to his own thing at Hogwarts. He had never joined Malfoy's gang and nor had he shown any particular interest in joining Dumbledore's Army – though, as a Slytherin, he'd never been offered a place. It struck him as odd, suddenly, that he had so closely befriended the father of a Slytherin boy he attended Hogwarts with.
Harry had a nagging worry that maybe things had gone against the course of normal history, maybe Theodore Nott was no longer going to be born at all. He didn't know what this would change. He didn't know what affect this would have on Nott's life, or the life of various people around him. He knew that Nott wanted very much to have children, so he felt obligated, as Nott's friend, to do anything he could to help him achieve that happiness. He had only one theory on what might help.
"Listen... there might be a way for me to cure you."
Nott turned his head to stare at Harry in one movement. "You know how to cure lycanthropy?"
He realised how bizarre this sounded. "Well – well, there's been, er, theories on a potion that can help manage the affects... It's called the Wolfsbane Potion."
"Do you think that will help me?"
"Definitely. It could make a huge difference on your life."
Nott mulled it over shortly, his brow furrowed. "Who's been making this potion?"
The only honest answer Harry could give would be 'nobody'. The potion wouldn't exist for another few years. In fact, if anyone were to create it, it would be at around this point in history.
"I've just read some theories," he told Nott, avoiding his question. "If I'm not mistaken, there could be a way for me to patch the information together, to create the potion for you. You'd have to take it every month, for a week before full moon, but it'd be worth it. I'd learn how to make it and I could even teach you how."
"Wouldn't it be dangerous, testing out this potion?" Nott asked. "If you're around me during one of my transformations, I could kill you."
"You can't."
"What?"
He had said it so casually, so instinctively, even he was surprised to hear his own words. Nott stared at him, expecting him to explain what he meant. Harry was hesitant. He realised, slowly, that this could be the perfect chance to tell Nott about his immortality, to explain the sin that had been taunting him for so long... but he refrained.
"There's no way I'd be careless enough to stand in a room and allow myself to be attacked," he said, covering his mistake. "I'll be cautious about it, so we'll both be okay."
Nott did not immediately drop his suspicion. He fixed Harry with a curious gaze, until his thoughts wandered back to the Wolfsbane Potion. "If you're not wrong about this... I'd definitely be willing to try."
Harry knew he was only agreeing out of curiosity and desperation. Nott knew there was no guaranteeing Harry could uncover a cure, but he had enough trust and faith to at least let him try. The truth of the matter was, Harry knew very little about the Wolfsbane Potion and how it was made, but shreds of memory and concern for Nott's well-being are what motivated him into attempting its recreation. The fact that this Potion could exist encouraged him greatly; all he'd have to do is research the faint leads he had from memory.
He began his work by writing down ingredients that he thought were most likely to help this potion – wolf's bane, or aconite, being the most obvious. He used magic to sense the importance of certain plants. He then researched the various properties and uses of these ingredients, writing up theories on what affect each component might have to the others depending on how they were brewed and prepared, and how certain ingredients ripened and changed with time. Tom's large collection of books was a very important guide for him, to begin with.
Tom had rare, valuable books in every Death Eater hideout and in the large library they kept in their unused house. Harry could read hundreds of books over the next few months without arousing suspicion. Although Tom took occasional interest in the texts on beasts, potions, history, magical illness, and ingredients that Harry studied, he did not think twice about why he might be so interested in these subjects. Harry could gain information here that he likely wouldn't have been able to find anywhere else.
The most important branch of research Harry found wasn't a study on Werewolves, nor a guide to potion ingredients and their properties, but the life's work of Hesper Starky, a witch who studied how the moon's phases affected the creation of potions. She had died five years ago, but her death only lead to more of her research and notes being released to witches and wizards who took an interest in her studies. Harry decided to follow her theories, going to various wizarding libraries, including Hogwarts' library, to find the information she left behind.
The more he read her work (especially her previously unreleased journals that were full of vague ideas and scribbles), the more he had a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that she had been waiting for somebody to apply her advanced studies to new potions, like the Wolfsbane Potion. She spoke often about Werewolves in her journals because of their close connection to the moon. He studied her work closely, hoping to uncover any important theories she may have left behind.
With her theories in mind, Harry sketched out a plan of when to brew the potion. He had to create a balance between how long each stage of the potion went on for and what changes timing would have on the ingredients he experimented with. He had to spend a long time researching ingredients, but there were hundreds of books he could refer to for description of the properties of various components, so he found this work a lot less abstract.
Harry began brewing experimental potions in secret. It wasn't at all difficult for him to take rare ingredients from Tom's private collection without being noticed, but he had to find an unknown location in which to do the work. Once the first potion was nearing completion, Harry realised something. He needed someone to test the Wolfsbane Potion on... There was no way he'd feed this to Nott – it was too much risk, especially with aconite involved. He needed to find another Werewolf...
This problem bothered Harry deeply. He knew that Tom's pack of Werewolves grew in numbers with each passing month, so nobody would notice it, surely, if one Werewolf went temporarily missing, but what if the Wolfsbane Potion were to kill the wizard? Harry hated Tom's Werewolves and he knew how often they murdered innocent people in the most brutal, inhumane way, but could he really risk poisoning one of them without regretting it?
Harry was mulling over the problem on his way to the Basilisk Hideout, having spent an hour or two on the other side of England, adding ingredients to the Wolfsbane Potion. All of London was dark at this late hour and it was eerily quiet. Harry wasn't sure if potentially poisoning someone in the creation of the Wolfsbane Potion was a sane thing to do, even if that wizard was already a murderer. It wasn't only Nott's happiness that depended upon this potion, but his protection to; with the Wolfsbane Potion, it would be far easier for him to survive as an Order spy and Werewolf. Harry was stuck questioning morals...
Tom would be pleased if he knew the risks, Harry thought somewhat dourly. He would see this as a perfect opportunity for Harry to create another Horcrux... except, Harry would probably need to mean his murder in order for it to break his soul. Otherwise, remorse would mend it the best it could... Would he feel remorse at the death of Tom's Werewolf? He couldn't be sure. He approached the door the the Acromantula Hideout, lighting his wand.
He was about to give the password and step inside when a noise caught his attention. He thought he could hear heavy breathing, but when he looked around, no one was there. Everything was dark beyond the light of Harry's wand. He was wary of an Auror perhaps following him here, but he couldn't see how someone from the Ministry could have found his trail, and he didn't see why they'd be breathing heavily. He was about to give up, to head inside, when he heard footsteps to his left.
Someone was shuffling and staggering towards him. He lifted his wand up at once, in defence and to shed light on whoever was approaching. A Knight staggered into view, drawing in shallow breaths and looking at Harry with an exhausted, faint gaze. It was Rosier. Harry's mind raced to think why he'd be here, stumbling into the light of his wand. He wasn't able to stand long enough to even reach Harry.
"What happened?" Harry asked, moving towards him to help him at once. "Are you alright?"
"I'm f-fine," Rosier rasped, grabbing his arm for support. "I was at-attacked. B-by a zombie or, or a body, or -"
"An Inferius?"
"I – I don't know..."
Harry thought he recognised the wounds on Rosier. The Inferi had incredible strength and it was clear from Rosier's wounds that even he hadn't succeeded in avoiding their bites, scratches, and general attack. He was leaning to one side when Harry helped him up and there was blood sliding down his arm, tripping from his fingertips. His shoulder had been scraped at with furious swipes and he was bitten in several places.
"Did you use fire to fight it?" Harry asked, knowing this was the best attack against an Inferius.
"Yes," Rosier answered, closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing. "I – I f-forgot, at first... It attacked m-me before I s-saw it..."
He was shaking horrifically, clutching at Harry's arm with his remaining strength. Harry thought he might lose consciousness if he didn't get him healed soon.
"We should go inside," he said. "Come on..."
Rosier followed him without a word. Harry gave the password to the Acromantula Hideout, pushing the door open wide. The main hall was dark. He could hear voices and see light in a room up ahead, so he headed towards it, supporting most of Rosier's weight.
Several Death Eaters were sitting in a meeting room, talking merrily of gruesome things. Avery, Dolohov, Crabbe, and Gibbon were amongst the most talkative, sitting together in a group, while Regulus Black sat closest to the door, not saying a word. When they heard and saw Harry and Rosier approach, they turned their attention to them, alarmed by the sight of blood. Harry moved Rosier to the nearest empty chair.
"What happened?" asked Gibbon, standing up to have a better look at Rosier. "Was there an Auror attack?"
"No," Harry told him, his attention on Rosier. "It was an Inferius, I think."
"An Inferius?" repeated Regulus.
"How did that happen?" asked Avery.
Harry shook his head once, giving no verbal answer. He tried to pull on Rosier's shirt to better look at his shoulder. His eyes were closed against the pain.
"Do any of you know healing magic?" Harry asked the watching Death Eaters.
Nobody answered. Harry remembered, then, that these wizards were only trained to kill and harm others, not to help them. Vaguely annoyed, he realised he'd have to heal Rosier himself. He'd never been good at this. Even as he unbuttoned Rosier's white shirt, trying to look at his shoulder, he thought of the young girl he had failed to save in Nott's arms.
"Is he gunna be alright?" asked Avery.
"If you let me concentrate, then yes," Harry answered coldly. He wasn't sure why the death of the young girl should haunt him now, even in his warmly-lit hideout. He could remember her silent struggle and the grasp of her tiny fists...
Harry really thought he should know some better medical magic by now. Even at seventeen, he had wanted to learn, so why hadn't he? The only magic he knew that could cure wounds as dark as an Inferius attack was a spell he had learnt from Severus Snape at the age of sixteen. It was surprising that he could preform this advanced magic at all.
He was about to start his spell, when calm, delicate footsteps interrupted his concentration. He recognised the footsteps as Tom's; he was approaching from the hallway. The Death Eaters, hearing this too, soon fell quiet, taking their seats in unease. When Tom appeared int he entrance of the room, his dark eyes scanned the faces of the Death Eaters, before finally falling on Harry and Rosier. He stared, expressionless.
"It seems you have a bit of an Inferi problem," Harry said in a low voice, barely able to stop himself from glaring. It was bad enough having Death Eaters killed and captured by the Ministry, he could barely comprehend why an Inferius would be wandering the streets of London.
Tom only smiled, his eyes locked on Harry. His smile slipped away when Harry turned his attention back to the Knight. Harry reached out a hand to remove the bloodstained shirt further down Rosier's arm. The bites and scratches of the Inferius had torn his flesh to a horrid mushy, oozing wound. Rosier tensed at his touch.
"Black, take Jonathan's place," Tom said, his tone cold. "Rosier's wounds won't need so much attention..."
"Yes, my Lord."
Harry looked up, bemused. Did Tom believe he wasn't capable of preforming the medical magic Rosier would need? In which case, when had Tom ever seen Harry use a healing spell? Harry tried to make sense of the situation and of Tom's strange behaviour as he stood up, allowing Regulus to take his place.
"What was an Inferius doing in London?" he asked Tom, genuinely curious.
"It was an experiment," Tom said quietly. His eyes were fixed on Rosier. "The chance of a Knight crossing its path was slim..."
Harry noticed, then, just how annoyed Tom was. His eyes were burning with suppressed anger.
"Are there more of them around, my Lord?" asked Dolohov, sounding unsettled by the idea.
"That depends upon whether or not Rosier defeated the first."
"He did," Harry assured him. "Well, he scared it off, at least."
"They d-don't die easily," Rosier panted.
"So," Tom said in a hiss, "if you all avoid wandering London tonight, you should be safe."
"There's not more of them, then?" Dolohov asked, hastily adding, "my Lord."
"Unless another wizard trained in the art of Necromancy has decided to release an experiment tonight, then no..."
Harry wondered if it annoyed Tom that Rosier, of all people, had been attacked. Or was he annoyed that his Inferius had been defeated? Had he wanted the Ministry, perhaps, to fight it first?
"Why'd you make one of these zombies, my Lord?" Avery asked, as if he couldn't help himself.
"It was not a zombie," said Tom shortly.
"An Inferi, then."
"It is an Inferius."
Avery sighed in annoyance. "An Inferius then, my Lord."
"I needn't answer your foolish questions, Avery..."
Still, Tom's eyes did not move away from Rosier's face. It occurred to Harry, slowly, that Tom could have disliked seeing him pay Rosier so much attention... but was that really enough to enrage him so deeply? Harry knew Tom was a jealous person, but did he really care that Harry put his hand on another man just to heal him?
Tom's calculating gaze was somewhere between furious and intrigued, as if he was trying to determine whether or not Rosier fit the description of something he was searching for. Harry wondered, with a certain amount of uneasiness, if Tom had got another flash into his mind. Another mistaken encounter...
"The Inferi are a very powerful weapon," Tom said in a low voice, surprising Avery with an answer to his questions. His eyes narrowed on Rosier. "It is every intelligent Dark Wizard's desire to have power great enough to awaken and possess the dead, to put use to wasted mortal bodies. The Inferi do not truly live; they are possessed beings, animated by magic, not by their long-lost souls. In large numbers, the Inferi make an excellent, invaluable army. Since they are already dead, no common spells in war will stop them. They're reanimated soldiers in immortal flesh..."
Rosier's eyes were still closed. Regulus worked on his wounds silently, but he seemed to be listening to Tom's words. His movements slowed, at points. Harry noticed, then, that Regulus had almost finished healing the Knight. The magic he used was significantly more powerful and accurate than anything Harry might have tried.
Later that evening, Harry discovered the truth behind why Tom had released an Inferius in London. When they were alone and Harry asked about it, Tom admitted to owning too many dead bodies thanks to the recent increase in Death Eater attacks. He admitted, far from the sceptical ears of the Death Eaters, that he had begun putting dead Muggles to use, too. He was testing Muggle strength in comparison to wizarding strength and he had discovered there was no significant difference. He told Harry that this would be a far better use for the Muggles he planned to wipe out...
Harry had refrained from asking about Tom's anger towards Rosier. He knew that if he let the issue die away without drawing attention to it, Tom might forget about the whole incident. Harry fell into the habit of thinking about his problems concerning the Wolfsbane Potion, while Rosier returned to work as a normal Knight. It was through watching Rosier closely that Harry became interested in the next biggest Death Eater mission. Lucius Malfoy, of all Death Eaters, had discovered the location of two Order members and Tom wanted to organise an attack against them.
They were going to try and attack Frank and Alive Longbottom, to scare both the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic. This took a lot of planning and effort on Tom's part – he chose the perfect day to attack, he picked the smartest Death Eaters to take part, and he created confidentiality amongst his followers to avoid his enemies getting anything close to a warning. That's why, when Harry warned Dumbledore of the Death Eaters' attack, he was haunted by more guilt and regret than he thought possible. It was so easy to ruin Tom's plans, to protect the Order members who simply couldn't die...
Dumbledore was astounded and readily respectful when Harry warned him about the next Death Eater attack. He told Harry he had done a great thing tonight, he had saved several lives, but Harry didn't feel proud at the complements. In fact, Dumbledore's eager glee made him feel somewhat sceptical about the things he stood for. He wondered if this was because of the loyalty towards Tom he was breaking. He couldn't be sure.
Tom joined Black, Rosier, Lucius Malfoy, Dolohov, Avery, and Weiß personally to attack the Longbottoms, but with the subtle, careful defences put up by Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, the night didn't end well. Several Order members had, in Tom's eyes, been summoned by the Longbottom's at the sight of the Death Eaters approaching. At their arrival, a battle had burst between the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters – the first main fight these two sides of the war had faced.
Several witches and wizards were harmed in the fight and eventually the Order of the Phoenix was forced to retreat. When they were gone, the Death Eaters counted their numbers, informing their Lord that Weiß was missing – he had been captured by the Order, undoubtedly, to be sent to the Ministry. Worse than this, Dolohov was dead. Such unexpected losses enraged Tom more than words could express, but all the Death Eaters knew it.
Many of Tom's followers were alarmed and shaken by Dolohov's death – it wasn't common for their own people to die at the hands of the Order or Ministry. They were only ever captured or hurt, normally. Harry could see the reality of this war striking Avery, suddenly, as well as Crabbe, Goyle, and even Mulciber, who had all been closest to Dolohov. Tom felt no grief for Dolohov's death, to no surprise.
"One of you will have to inform Antonin Dolohov that his father was not wise enough to avoid a quick death," he said cruelly, his eyes fixed on the Death Eaters who had failed him. "I trust you won't be proud to divulge the news..."
The Death Eaters were all silent, many of them avoiding Tom's eyes.
"It appears that six Death Eaters was not enough to win even this simple attack," Tom carried on in a cold hiss. "Could you not fight the Longbottoms under my instructions? Could you not so much as take down a single witch or wizard from the Order of the Phoenix in dedication to your Lord?"
Avery, to no surprise, was the only one to answer.
"Well, we fought 'em off, didn't we, my Lord?"
Tom cast him a cold, cruel glower. Avery still didn't drop his gaze, however. Dolohov's death had inspired within him a new sense of bravery and apathy.
"We still made 'em run," he mumbled. "We know their faces now, as well."
Black seemed interested in Avery's words. He looked up at Tom fearlessly.
"Avery has a point, my Lord. During that single battle, I should think we saw the faces of many valuable Order members. Bones, for one, and the runaway from my family, Sirius Black."
"I saw Meadows fighting," Rosier added, perhaps hoping to change Tom's mood into a better one. "The Prewetts, too. They took part in a duel against Dolohov."
Tom surveyed these two Knights with a look of intrigue and fading anger.
"My nephew Sirius fought alongside the Potters," Black said. "I believe they're close friends."
At this, Tom's anger returned, but this time it wasn't directed towards his followers. He didn't like hearing a reminder of the Potters, who had caused him such trouble in their dedication to Dumbledore. He scowled, drawing himself up to the greatest height.
"If these witches and wizards are so foolish as to fight against Lord Voldemort in clear sight, let us create a kind reminder for their greatest mistake. The Order has fought well, but they shan't succeed in escaping us next time. The Potters have defied me twice, but they shan't do it again..."
While Rosier and Black had succeeded in turning Tom's anger from the Death Eaters to the Order, Harry grew more anxious. He was well aware that the Order members had no reluctance to show their faces because they knew they were safe under Dumbledore's protection, but that wouldn't stop the Death Eaters and Tom from hunting them down determinedly, waiting for a any moment to strike. Under Tom's anger and his deep discussions with the Death Eaters that night, Harry was able to slip out of the Chimaera Hideout to visit the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters.
He wanted to warn Dumbledore of Tom's anger and he wanted to see whether Nott had decided to stay near the Order of the Phoenix tonight. He found that a celebration was going on at their headquarters, a lively mood filling the house even when Harry was in low spirits. He arrived at the place quietly, hearing many voices coming from meeting room to his right. From the doorway of the room, he saw many witches and wizards talking happily, healed and healthy, triumphant and joyous.
Fabian and Gideon Prewett were a joking about their part in the battle, talking to a few others while Hagrid sat drinking deeply from his goblet nearby, amused by their tale. Dumbledore and Doge were conversing pleasantly, while Meadows told the story of how she fought off two Death Eaters alone. Frank and Alice Longbottom are nowhere to be seen. They must have been bringing Weiß to the Ministry, Harry mused. He moved further into the room. He was about to head towards Dumbledore, to take a seat close to him, when heard heard voices that caught his attention.
From this clear view of the room, he could see, now, that the youngest Order members had joined together to talk at the far end of the table. Sirius and James were describing their part in the fight tonight, Sirius making an obvious gesture of an explosion and laughing, while Peter Pettigrew listened closely, gasping at all the right parts. Remus and Nott were talking about something else quietly, seriously, but with evident interest. Lily Potter had been listening to them, but now her attention was directed solely towards Harry.
Her curious green eyes startled him more than he would expect. This was the first time Harry could remember having his mother's eyes upon him, but it sent what felt like shards of glass to his heart. He knew that while he looked at the strong woman who had sacrificed her life to save him, he stared back as nothing more than a strange, scarred man. While their eyes remained the same, hers were calm, powerful, and curious and his were lost, turned bloodshot past the emerald green.
Harry felt dizzy and he could see a sign of recognition in Lily's eyes. Did she, perhaps, still see Jame's features in his face? He didn't stick around long enough to find out. He could feel more eyes on him as he turned away, heading out of the room. A chair pulled back and someone was following him. It was Nott. He met Harry in the dimly-lit hallway, appearing calm and eager to talk. Harry wished he hadn't followed him.
"I suppose you heard about the attack," Nott said. "Have there been changes amongst the Death Eaters?"
Harry shook his head, trying to overcome the disorientation that tormented him. "No, nothing's changed. Except, Tom – Tom wants to hunt them, I – I think. The Death Eaters recognised some of them..."
"Are you alright?"
Harry wasn't sure how convincing a lie would be. He felt as if he was going to be sick; his heart was aching with an unnatural, familiar pain. "I'm – I'm..."
Nott stepped towards to look at Harry more closely in concern. "What happened to you?"
"N-Nothing... N-Nothing's happened..."
Nott didn't believe him. His brow was furrowed, his eyes locked to Harry's. "You don't look well."
Harry shook his head, closing his eyes for a second. "I – I just need to – to..."
He couldn't comprehend how much he had ignored the love and protection of his parents' sacrifice. Here they were, alive and well, and too soon they would give up their lives to protect their unborn child from Voldemort's wrath. To what avail? To ensure that Harry could grow up to be the twisted, sad man he now was? In love with the very man who had caused the misery in his life...
"Is that – are you bleeding?" Nott suddenly asked, alarmed.
At the question, Harry felt it. There was blood dripping from his nose. He reached up a hand, terror catching him when he saw his own crimson fingertips. This couldn't happen, not now...
He felt a hand on his own. Nott moved his hand out of the way, forcing eye-contact. His expression was serious. He could feel Harry's palm shaking.
"What's happening to you?"
Harry couldn't answer. His ribcage felt as if it was going to collapse in on itself. It was hard to breathe against this pain. He knew he had to get out of his house, away from here. Deliriously, he mumbled uncertain words, heading for the doorway. Nott followed him outside, into the warm night air.
Flashes of memories and pangs of regret tore through Harry as he turned away from Nott. Everything the Order stood for, everything his parents had sacrificed for him, everything the Prewetts and McKinnons and Bones had died for, had all been in vain when he chose, a the age of seventeen, to run away rather than face Voldemort in death... Memories of seeing his friends' deaths and seeing the Longbottoms mindless and tortured in St Mungo's caused Harry to feel physically ill. He needed to fix all of this...
"We need to get back to the Death Eaters," Nott was saying. "Back to the Dark Lord."
"N-no," Harry panted. "I can't go back, I... I need t-to check something..."
"Well, wherever you're going, I'm going with you."
Harry wasn't bothered by the idea. He needed to get away from here, to go back to his and Tom's unused house. To his horror, he caught a flash in front of his vision of a long, dark table, surrounded by the faces of curious, fearful Death Eaters. Tom was in a meeting...
"I'm going to Apparate... If you want to – to come with me, I'll take you..."
Nott nodded, stepping forwards to take Harry's outstretched hand. With a swish of their cloaks, they were gone, zooming miles across the country in seconds. When they landed, Harry felt more dizzy and sick than ever. He held onto Nott's hand for support, his eyes closed. He didn't dare look at Nott, lest Tom should get a flash into his mind because of this pain. When he regained his balance, they headed for the house.
Nott didn't ask why they were here or what Harry wanted to check. He was far more concerned with Harry's well being, even when they headed up the stairs, to his and Tom's bedroom. Harry went immediately for the handsome closest he and Tom stored rare items in, locked in drawers. In there, he'd find the only Horcrux that wasn't stored away at Hogwarts or by Tom's side. The Pocketwatch.
His hand lingered above the Pocketwatch for a paused moment. He didn't know whether or not Tom might catch a vision from him if he dared to test his own Horcrux. Closing his eyes securely, he reached out a hand to feel the metal of the watch. He couldn't tell whether or not it was still cold – his hands were shaking badly and he was too warm. The watch felt changed. He stood up straighter, turning around.
Still, without looking up, he thrust the Horcrux towards Nott. "Is it cold?"
Nott hesitated for only a moment before reaching out a hand to touch the smooth surface of the Pocketwatch, avoiding Harry's trembling, bloodied fingers. "It's sort of cold, I guess."
Harry realised this was a futile test. Waves of agony caught his chest, causing his nose to bleed further, despite the magic he used to try and manage that. He set the watch down on the ground, drawing in a deep breath. In one swift, sure moment, he pointed his wand at it.
"Stupefy!"
There was a flash of light and a crash. The Pocketwatch skidded across the ground. When Harry went to retrieve it, he saw a new dent in the watch's surface. His stomach lurched in anxiety, his head pounding and aching as he realised, in one swift moment, that this couldn't be a Horcrux any longer. He kept his eyes shut tight. He could see the meeting room with several Death Eaters looking into Tom's eyes. He could feel Tom's pause, his curiosity.
Harry could feel something was lost and empty in the Pocketwatch. He felt more lucid, more pained, as if locked corners of his mind had just been opened for the first time, reminding him of thoughts and feelings he had silenced long ago. He concentrated on his breathing, taking in deep breaths.
"I n-need... need you to create a distraction," he told Nott breathlessly. "Now. I – I need Tom distracted... Attack a Death Eater or – or..."
Nott didn't need him to finish the suggestions. He was a strong enough Knight to take orders without questions nor hesitation. His only concern was the bloody nose Harry pointedly ignored every few minutes. His eyes lingered on Harry's shaking limbs and the fits of coughing that overcame him.
"Are you going to be alright?"
"I'll be fine... please, just – just do what I ask..."
Although undoubtedly confused and alarmed, Nott nodded once. He watched Harry for a few more hesitant seconds before turning, swiftly, to leave the house. Harry was left alone, hoping beyond anything that Tom would not find him here tonight before he could get over his broken Horcrux.
