I'm Back. Sorry for my prolonged absence, but shortly after uploading the last chapter I lost quite a few close family members in close succession, so my mood and creative writing skills weren't at the top of things. I won't bore with a long Author's note. simply an apology, and a request to move on.
One FYI: unlike what I announced last Chapter, Halloween has been moved back so the kidnapping took place the day after it (leaving no specific dates for things gives that freedom), because otherwise the story progression will be too slow, and I'd be at 500.000 words before I reach first Christmas, something I don't want
Thanks to Wolf's Scream for beta work. Phenomenal, as always.
Disclaimer that I own jack shit of Harry Potter, and only a few OC's are my own.
Please read, review, and enjoy.
Chapter 7
Cokeworth, Surrey, England
Three pops of people Apparating in echoed throughout the town, but it didn't earn them much attention. It was around supper time, and most people would be having friendly gatherings around dinner tables or sat in front of those ludicrous things called televisions and radios. Or worse, sit around playing boring games on a flat cardboard surface or with cards.
All were things beneath Antonin's notice. True, the Wizarding world had similar games and magical counterparts, but Antonin had never been fond of those either.
He glanced behind him, making sure Karkaroff and Travers were there. He didn't know enough about Travers yet to trust the man's competence, and in his overeager bloodthirsty state he didn't trust Karkaroff not to splinch himself or end up in the wrong town altogether. But they were there, even if Karkaroff was practically jumping up and down in excitement. He gestured for them to follow him, turning down the right street and following the numbers on the houses. The Evanses lived at number 36, and at the moment he was at 4.
Initially, it had been hard to track them down. Not because they were hard to find, but rather, the name Evans was so common in muggle England the chance was too great for him to pick the wrong one if he just selected a random family in the phone book. It had taken three days (far longer than expected or wanted by either him or the Dark Lord) — including corroborating whether those families were associated with anyone named Dursley — but now he was confident he had the right family. The confirmation came from his chief source in Hogwarts, who confirmed the Evans child of this family was also a Hogwarts student, and a good friend of Harry Potter.
Of course, he could've struck earlier, the moment he found them. But he'd managed to beg it off for another day with the Dark Lord when he overheard the Dursleys were coming over for dinner the next day, and it would save time if they took both families down in one stroke, rather than waste another week tracking down the right Dursley family. Fortunately the Dark Lord had agreed with that assessment.
They arrived at the right number, and Antonin could already clearly see the two families at the dinner table, seven members in total. A piece of cake.
He cast silencing, privacy, and notice-me-not charms around the house and garden to ensure no muggle or passing wizard or witch interfered with what they were planning to do before he turned to the others. "Karkaroff, go around the back and enter through there. Travers, you enter through the window in case they become desperate enough to try and escape through there. I'll take the front door. You guys'll have ten minutes of fun, then we'll cast our marks." Upon clarification shortly before leaving, the Dark Lord had been very specific. Cast the Dark Mark, and make sure everyone knows it wasn't a group of imposters. Well, Antonin had just the way.
The other two nodded, and Karkaroff practically sprinted through the garden around the side of the house before disappearing from view. Antonin winced: with his excitement the idiot was going to give them away. But sure enough a few seconds later a red spark shot up in the air and the two families didn't seem to notice. He gave a nod to Travers, sent up a green spark in response so Karkaroff knew to move in, and headed in himself. He Alohomora'd the front door and kicked it in, stalking through the hallway before entering the dining room they'd been able to observe from the front of the house.
Travers was already there, and had already identified and petrified one the Dursley elders, a pair of fat pigs of no use other than target practice. Antonin immediately turned his wand on the other, and cast a Reducto at her fat belly. He might've put too much power into it, for rather than simply blowing her chest open, she exploded in a fleshy mess of meat and bones that decorated most of the wall behind her.
Travers laughed, and Antonin turned to him with a questioning look. "You made it rain," Travers chuckled in response, and Antonin rolled his eyes at the man's sense of humour.
A young girl, likely the young Evans sister, tried to run to the back door, only to bump into Karkaroff, who wore a predatory grin. He cast another pair of nonverbal petrifications at her and the girl's mother, only slightly different from the one others used. The girl collapsed limply on the floor, her face an expression of horror that was matched by the woman who now sat limply in her chair. Karkaroff's version of the spell, rather than making the victims rigid planks with limbs snapped together like in Petrificus Totalus, made them limp instead. Combined with the fact it also left his victims conscious, it fuelled Karkaroff's pathetic desires to horrify his victims while he had his way with them.
One of the Dursley children, a rather round woman well on her way to becoming like her parents, tried to run for it, a small bulldog Antonin had missed somehow running along with her as she tried to dive for the window. Antonin quickly turned, and transfigured the glass around the window into a ten foot thick and forty foot wide brick wall that would cover the entire front of the house, front window and door included. The girl jumped into it with her head, and he heard a loud crack as she hit it, before collapsing on the floor without moving. The dog whimpered at her feet and made pathetic sounds that annoyed Antonin to no end. A quick Avada Kedavra took care of that problem.
He turned around to check on Travers and Karkaroff, only to have a rather muscular man, the Evans father, slam into him. Judging by the way the man immediately tried to pin down his limbs and the wand with his feet, and the professional and quick manner he did so, the man was former muggle military. Behind him, Karkaroff was sitting on the ground clutching a broken nose, and Travers was wrestling for his wand with the only other person standing, the Dursley boy.
Unfortunately for Mister Evans, after joining the Ministry armies in the war against Grindelwald and shortly before entering the duelling circuits, Antonin had similarly served with the Muggle SAS. Skills like his were almost never taught in the Wizarding world due to the insistence of fools at Hogwarts and other magical schools that one is only taught how to defend themselves by wand, and a little-known fact was despite being purebloods, the Dolohovs weren't averse to learning muggle techniques in order to become the best there were. Antonin wrestled a leg free, and before Mister Evans could strike him, gave a resounding knee in the groin. Evans' grip on his wand immediately loosened, and Antonin wrestled himself free and rolled them so he was on top, before giving a chop to the neck, his pain in his groin and the trouble to breathe paralysing the man.
To give a final coup-de-grace to ensure he stayed down, Antonin cast a Cruciatus at the man and held it for five seconds (the man unfortunate enough to have the spell also impact against the groin) before lifting it. The man had his eyes closed in agony and didn't move.
A thud sounded behind him, and Antonin looked back. The Dursley boy was stuck to the wall between a few patches of intestine from his mother, missing a few fingers, and Travers, who had blood covering his mouth, was glaring at him with quite a bit of rage. Antonin made a quick check, as Karkaroff finally recovered from being stunned by a broken nose. The Evans parents: one paralysed in pain, the other petrified. The Evans child also petrified. The Dursley parents disposed off likewise. The Dursley girl was unconscious and heavily wounded, her dog dead, and her brother stuck to the wall. Good, that was all of them. He pulled his ruffled robes a bit straighter and made himself more presentable, before he made a thorough inspection with each of those still alive and conscious through Legillimency to check whether they knew anything about Harry Potter, but that yielded no results. The only thing the Evans family knew about any Potter was that the second daughter who was currently at Hogwarts, Lily, was often extremely vexed and annoyed because of Harry's brother James, and the Dark Lord wanted nothing on him. And the Dursleys themselves knew nothing at all. Disappointed, he turned to the other two Death Eaters.
"As I said, you have ten minutes," he told them. "I'll keep watch."
Karkaroff grinned and moved to the younger Evans girl, before picking her up and tossing her onto the couch. He tore off the girl's sweater and the blouse underneath, before starting on the girl's long skirt. Travers punched the hell out of the Dursley boy until he was unconscious, before taking the Evans mother and mimicking what Karkaroff was doing on her. Neither of their victims' expressions changed from the looks they currently had, but their eyes identified their horror.
Antonin turned to the Evans father. He pulled him up, and turned his head so he had to watch. The man, upon seeing what was happening to his wife and daughter, immediately tried to struggle, but Antonin cast Karkaroff's petrifications curse at him, ensuring the man wouldn't struggle even as he was forced to watch two strangers rape his family.
Antonin called it after ten minutes. "Time's up. Come on, you scumbags," Travers nodded and made himself more presentable as the Evans mother lay on the table, her clothing less than mere tatters clutching to her skin. Karkaroff grunted in annoyance, but similarly made himself more presentable. The small Evans girl lay completely naked on the couch, her head limply hanging over the back of the couch.
Antonin undid the transfiguration of the glass so the wall wouldn't block their exit, and all three walked out the front door. In their petrified, wounded, and stunned states, their victims wouldn't get away. He turned to Travers. "You do the Dark Mark," he ordered. "Karkaroff and I will do the others."
Travers nodded, and pointed his wand skyward. Antonin shared a grin with Karkaroff, this being their shared favourite part, before they both turned their wands to their targets. Antonin to the Evans house, Karkaroff to the neighbourhood in general. After this much destruction, there would be no doubt the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were the perpetrators.
At the same time as Travers shouted "Morsmordre!" and the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, Karkaroff and Antonin both shouted "Fiendfyre!" While putting as much power as they could into the spell to ensure the fiery Chimaeras and Manticores and Basilisks and Dragons spread as far as possible, before Portkeying away to headquarters on Azkaban Island.
Unknown
Harry grunted, as he finally regained some sort of consciousness. It was black around him, though, so he couldn't see where he was. He tried to turn his head around, see if the darkness receded somewhere, but found he couldn't move.
Of course. With his rotten luck, he'd woken up in another memory of Voldemort.
He simply settled to sit back and watch, as he was forced to do every time he had one of those. He might pick up something interesting, like in the first two memories. Then again, for the last 2 months or so, he hadn't seen a really interesting memory either, despite seeing one on a daily basis, with the only exception being a single instance with a twenty-nine-hour gap.
The darkness cleared away a bit, and Harry saw a large, well-lit manor in front of him in the background. In the foreground, Voldemort was talking with a group of Death Eaters. Harry recognised Dolohov leading them from Voldemort's side, and Bellatrix, Rudolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange in their early twenties standing on the left side, along with two older people (one roughly middle-aged, one clearly an elderly fellow) Harry had seen in Riddle manor yet didn't know the name off. On the right of the group stood Karkaroff and Greyback, along with even more others Harry didn't recognise. They all numbered at about twenty in total, not including Voldemort himself.
"Reginald," Voldemort spoke. "I must thank you. You did me a great service showing me to the household."
"Thank you, my Lord," the oldest of the men near the Lestranges, Reginald clearly, answered reverently. "I live to serve."
"That you do," Voldemort agreed, now donning a wicked smile that Harry didn't like one bit. To Harry's surprise, Voldemort was clutching the same locket Harry had stolen from him on impulse after it had fallen off. "That you do. But still, questions remain."
"My lord?" Reginald asked, looking up uncertainly, and the three Lestranges and the middle-aged man looked just as confused.
"If the Great Alliance would lose a number of its key members — Seraphina Bones, or Arcturus Black, or Charlus and Fleamont Potter, for example, what would happen to the rest of those members of it, I wonder."
Reginald grew silent for a moment, before answering. "The Alliance would fall apart. While the original founders would still be loyal to one another, the remainder outside of the Rascals wouldn't be as eager to stay together without the backbone of the two Barons supporting them. Within a generation, two at the most, they would've faded out of one another's lives, and the Alliance would cease to exist at all beyond a mere notation in history about which groups fought against Grindelwald."
"And what of the individual members of the Rascals? The survivors?" Voldemort pressed, although the fact his tone became a bit lighter hinted he was pleased with the answer so far.
Reginald shrugged. "Deckard Bones, despite his arguing with his sister, is still too attached to her emotionally, as she is to him, to let go. To the point even, though I have no evidence to back this suspicion, that the twins likely formed a soul bond with one another. Should one die, the other would wither away to become nothing but a drunken wastrel within the year." Reginald paused, thinking things over.
"Hector Longbottom would survive, but withdraw himself to protect the remainder of his family. Urge them to continue the memory of the Rascals, but without the same friends to back him as usual his urgings won't be heeded. By the time he thinks of the surviving members after recovering from the loss of the Potters and Seraphina Bones, they'll be too alienated to completely reform. As for Hyperion Greengrass… The archtypical Slytherin, he would cover every angle and take care of himself and his family first and foremost, a tradition he'll pass on to his children and grandchildren. Without Arcturus as a familiar Slytherin alumnus with backbone, or Charlus with the stubborn drive to continue the Alliance, he would recuse his family from all future involvement with it of any sort beyond passing meetings at social events," Reginald frowned. "Why?"
"Very simple, Reginald," Voldemort answered, and his answer was suddenly a lot colder than before, to the point all but a bare few stepped back or at least flinched. "Antonin Dolohov, Abraxus and Lucius Malfoy, Claudius Nott, Corban Yaxley, and Cadmus Rosier have all informed me that despite your support of my efforts," Voldemort's tone became more and more menacing the more he spoke, "you still harbour sympathies for certain families that would oppose me should I pursue my goals further."
"My lord, I assure you-" Reginald began in a panicked tone, but Voldemort didn't let him finish.
"I have had enough assurances, Lestrange," Voldemort hissed angrily. "I can get those aplenty from any of my spies in the ministry. And while you have made good on most of yours, I still need one last test to ensure the loyalty of you and your family to my cause."
Voldemort pointed with his wand to the Manor behind them, and Harry was compelled to watch it as well. Its looming over the nearby lands, and the gate that blocked them from entering it, the crest of the family proudly displayed over.
If he'd been able to move in one of these memories, he would have gasped. He knew that crest. Had seen it so often over the summer he'd now be able to recognise it anywhere, even if he hadn't been conscious of that fact.
"Use this Wardstone to override the Wards and turn them against their creators, and burn Potter Manor to the ground," he ordered. Harry stared at the scene in front of him in shock and dismay. With a sickening realisation, he tried to will himself to see another memory. Anything, anything at all. But not the death of his grandparents.
He wasn't alone in this. Reginald Lestrange, and the middle-aged one beside him, visibly trembled, and the younger Lestrange brothers looked visibly nervous. Almost as if they didn't want to kill the Potters.
"M- my Lord," The middle-aged man with the Lestranges tried to stammer in his father's defence. "Surely if we wait for a few minutes, we'll gather more members in one place, an-"
"I tire of excuses, Lestrange," Voldemort snarled, and the Dark Lord's wand twitched. Which to the Death Eaters was as close to a warning as they would get: obey or suffer, "None of the members could meet at the same time today, and at this time the largest number of them will be in the house. There is to be no delay: Turn the Wards; burn it down!"
"The use of the stone is very simple," a Death Eater stepped out of the crowd, and Harry was dismayed to recognise a younger Augustus Rookwood in Unspeakable robes. "I already did most of the configuring for you. Simply put it down near the edge of the wards, and tap it with you wand. It is that easy."
The elder Lestrange visibly hesitated, but was relieved of the burden by the now grim-looking middle-aged man with him, who took the stone and put it down near the gate, giving a gentle tap with the wand as he rose again. Voldemort visibly smiled.
"Well done, Randolph," he applauded. "Well done. You seem to be willing to do what is necessary." Voldemort turned his gaze to Reginald, who had slowly raised his wand on the Potter property. "Now, the turn is to your father."
Harry, as well as every other Death Eater, turned to the Lestrange elder. For a moment, Harry forgot he was a prominent Death Eater and one of the chief financiers of Voldemort's war effort. Instead, Harry saw a man being forced to turn on the men and women he'd once called friends. A man forced to turn his back on his entire past. Harry felt pity for the man, surrounded by people who would kill him in a heartbeat should he refuse. A possibility that became greater and greater, as instead of casting a spell, the man's wand and arm started trembling.
"Do it already," a woman hissed from within the Death Eater ranks, and many murmured agreements with that assessment.
"He doesn't have the stomach!" Another goaded loudly. "Just look at his arm." In response Lestrange raised it higher, but the damage was done. Many people had seen his trembling, and were murmuring about whether he would do it. Harry, despite knowing it would happen inevitably, hoped the man wouldn't do it. He didn't know the man personally, but he'd heard plenty from Charlus about the man's Hogwarts times during the summer, and how highly he'd been praised before becoming a Death Eater. Even despite his changed allegiance, Harry saw it was hard for him to truly kill his former best friends. Unlike Wormtail, but…
Suddenly, Antonin Dolohov surged forward. "It's taking too long," he growled in anger, raising his own wand. "FIENDFYRE!"
Fire sprang from Dolohov's wand, and passed through the ward to land upon the Potter property. A second later Karkaroff's wand also spouted fire into the Wards, followed closely by Greyback, followed immediately by four more from various places around the perimeter. Bellatrix was the first 'Lestrange' to cast a fire as well, but by the time she did the deed was done: with at least eight Fiendfyres from different directions there was no way anyone could survive.
Harry looked on in horror, seeing what should have been his childhood home burn down to the ground. And how more and more Death Eaters cast their own fires to accelerate the process. How Dolohov actually directed them so they would do more damage. And how Voldemort laughed in the background as a potential enemy was burned to the ground.
Harry's heart stopped for a moment when the front door of the manor opened, and an older, now entirely grey Charlus and Arcturus stepped out, and the twin twinkling reflection of glasses indicating Fleamont was just behind them in the hallway. The pair looked on in shock as Fiendfyre surrounded the entire property, with flames burning down all of the small Quidditch pitch and gardens, and fast approaching the Manor itself. Charlus immediately ran forward to try and put them out, grabbing his wand from an arm holster, but Arcturus tried to pull him back. The wand immediately flew out of his hand, though, barely missing the flames of Fiendfyre and landing into a grinning Dolohov's outstretched hand. Charlus looked on in shock, before he was pulled back inside by Arcturus. The flames reached the building seconds after they closed the door, and the front porch and support pillars on it immediately collapsed, the now-ruined balcony that used to be above it blocking that exit. Screams followed shortly after, both from within out of agony, and from without out of some sick and twisted sense of pleasure by the Death Eaters.
Harry desperately hoped they'd made it out, but it was no use: the very wards that protected them in the past had been turned against them, preventing them from apparating out, portkeying away, flooding to another place, or even physically leaving by broom. And leaving on foot was likely also out, with this many Death Eaters surrounding them and Voldemort leading the attack.
Dolohov laughed, and walked forward with a gleeful expression on his face. "That's right!" he laughed. "Burn, you bastards!"
Harry glared at the Death Eater, growing angrier and angrier by the second. The man before him just earned himself a lifetime enemy, and was happy Charlus had actually killed him. Forget his lifetime sense of morality. Forget the by-Dumbledore-instilled belief everyone deserves a second chance. This man just bumped up on the list of people he hated the most, quite close to Umbridge, the Dursleys, and Voldemort. True, Voldemort had personally killed his parents. But Antonin Dolohov had been the one to kill his grandparents.
His environment swirled, and instead of the bright orange of the Fiendfyre and the darkness of the night faded away to a vague grey and white. The white came into focus, as did the grey. Blurs focused into slightly less blurry lines, and the grey turned out to be a stone ceiling. He slightly turned to his side, and saw the white likely was some sort of curtain. That meant he likely he was in some sort of medical wing. Maybe Saint Mungo's?
No, he realised, as he found his glasses on a side table by touch and put them on, the details coming into focus. Not Saint Mungo's. Hogwarts Hospital Wing.
"About time you woke up," an older woman's voice said beside him. "I was almost afraid you wouldn't."
Harry turned his head, and saw his grandmother sitting next to him. He let out a huge sigh of relief when he saw it was his grandmother, sitting very closely beside him in a chair. Without thinking, he rose and embraced her fiercely. After that kind of memory, he needed the reassurance. Dorea was caught off-guard for a moment, but soon returned it just as strongly.
"It's alright," she assured him softly. "It's alright. Neville and Amelia are safe, as is Bellatrix."
"It's not just that," Harry whispered, breaking the hug as it all came back to him: the kidnapping from the carriage, the Manor, the torture, the attack by the Great Alliance, the encounters with Voldemort, the hallucination after getting out of there. "Though that can wait for a few moments. How long was I out?"
Dorea frowned for a moment, concerned at what could've made Harry need such a strong reassurance, but fortunately let it be for now. "Four days since you got back from that hellhole."
"What happened?" Harry pressed. All he knew for sure was that he and the others escaped after Charlus had led an attack on the Manor, and later Voldemort himself, but aside from his own involvement he knew no details.
Dorea sat a bit more comfortably, as she recounted the tale. "It began a few weeks ago, where Arcturus Black managed to turn Bellatrix and Narcissa away from You-Know-Who's side and back to the Great Alliance, by revealing the truth of Horcruxes to them. After you were captured, Bellatrix sent a message by Patronus, giving Charlus and Arcturus the info they needed to prepare a rescue attempt. And knowing they wouldn't catch as many Death Eaters again once they became aware we knew where they gathered, they staged an attack on the Manor at the same time."
She paused, withdrawing her wand from her sleeve and casting diagnostic charms on him. "The Rascals managed to trap over a hundred of his followers inside the Manor, which they managed to set ablaze. The rest of the alliance fought with the Death Eater members and sympathisers that made it out, until Charlus took a squadron and rescued you, Amelia, and Neville from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. After getting you three out, the rest of them simply retreated while the terror twins burned the Manor down. Not much has happened since, though. No retaliations, no suspicious movements, nothing." She smiled a bit, as she ended the various charms. "You recovered pretty well for the most part, despite being the most heavily injured."
"What was I hit with at the end?" Harry asked. The other effects, like the vomiting and nose bleeding, didn't worry him as much. Those symptoms could be healed. But the hallucinating of Voldemort's voice… That worried him the most, especially in combination with the memories.
Here Dorea grimaced. "A nasty curse I rarely encountered before. If I were to guess, it's likely the same one that has the ministry so worried because it can't be blocked."
"That 'Fourth Unforgivable' that's got everyone so spooked?" he asked.
"The same," Dorea confirmed, a grave expression on her face, one that lightened a bit moments later. "Fortunately, while it indeed seems to be impossible to shield against, it's mostly easy to treat the symptoms. The wound it caused on impact was easy to close, and the standard inoculation against Dragon Pox worked for the vomiting and headaches. The bleeding from your orifices was a bit harder to cure, but it wore off after about eighteen hours. As long as you take two blood replenishing potions you should survive."
"And the hallucinating?" Harry asked. Dorea looked up sharply.
"Hallucinations?" she asked immediately.
Harry nodded. "Shortly before losing consciousness, I heard him whisper in my head. And since I know the… Connection is permanently severed, I know it is that curse. And given the memories I acquired over the summer…" He trailed off, purposely being cryptic in case anyone not in the know about Harry's true origins from another time was listening in on their conversation.
"You're right to be concerned," she finished. "I'll look into it. If there's a way to end the hallucinations I'll let you know."
Harry sighed in relief, and let it drop for now. While it worried him, he knew he didn't understand a thing about healing magic despite how often he ended up in the hospital wing, and his grandmot- (no, his mother in this time, just like James was his brother and Charlus his father) was a certified Mediwitch and experienced healer. It would be much wiser to leave it to her for now, and instead only be involved by asking her about it periodically. Instead, he focused on the remainder of what happened at Riddle Manor. "How badly did it go in terms of wounded and…" He hesitated. Despite his goal to kill Voldemort and his new desire to make Dolohov pay, he was still a bit squeamish about killing and death so close to him. Especially with what had almost happened to Neville and Amelia.
Dorea nodded in understanding and didn't ask for clarification, instead answering his question. "Surprisingly well, actually. Of the nearly four hundred people we spotted in that area, ranging from dark wizards, vampires, and werewolves to goblin mercenaries and loyal, fanatic house-elves, we managed to kill almost half of them, as well as keeping all Dementors away from the battle. There might be hundreds more members hidden in other manors and safe houses across the country, but combined with the loss of most of their purebloods at the Ministry, it's a great boost in morale for us." She sighed, "We lost about thirty people, though, and a few dozen more wounded. You have to ask Charlus for the specifics."
Harry sighed, collapsing back against the bed. Thirty dead, dozens wounded, that brought at least fifty people into trouble because of him. Not to mention the four or five people that had run with Charlus personally to help him escape Voldemort. How ma…
"Don't beat yourself up," Dorea said sternly, interrupting his thoughts. And in that moment, she appeared like an angry cross between McGonagall and Pomfrey when it came to sternness and stubborn persistence. "They fought because they believed Death Eaters should be stopped as well, not just to rescue you. And those that saved you personally knew what they were getting into, and you are well worth the effort of being rescued."
"But-" Harry tried to argue no one should have to die for him, that his one life wasn't worth the sixty lost, but Dorea didn't even let him finish.
"At risk of sounding callous and uncaring about them, I think that with your knowledge of the future and the memories of him in your head, not to mention the fact you are my BLOODY GRANDSON, you are well worth the thirty lives we lost."
Harry tried to open his mouth to object against that, but she continued before he could even speak. "Besides, this is what we agreed upon: you complete your schooling while we take the war to him. It was merely an unfortunate accident you happened to be there at the time."
Harry stared at her agape, as she crushed his protests before he could even make them. She grinned in response. "The inclination to put the weight of the world on your shoulders is definitely a Potter trait, Harry. I've lost count of the number of times Euphemia and I had to talk Charlus and Fleamont out of the start of a depression after missions went particularly wrong during the Grindelwald war. It's not far fetched to guess you inherited that trait."
Harry smiled a bit sheepishly. It was true that he often blamed himself whenever something big went wrong, like with Wormtail's escape at the end of third year, or Cedric's death at the end of his fourth. Guess he knew where he got that from now. He changed tack before he could dwell on it further and get his grandmother's temper on it again. "Neville and Amelia?"
His grandmother's grin developed into a full-blown smile. "Already cleared from the hospital wing. It's five in the morning though, so I expect they won't visit you anytime soon. The Marauders and your other friends visited you whenever they could, though."
Harry frowned. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you up so early then?"
"We agreed we should keep a watch on you until you woke up. Fleamont was scheduled to take over at six, Charlus at twelve, and the DADA teacher Clarke after supper at six. I keep watch from midnight until morning."
Harry nodded, even as he filed away the information. "Professor Clarke agreed to that?"
Dorea opened her mouth to answer, but the door to the hospital wing opened, and said professor strode in and walked to Harry's bed, a slightly nervous smile on his face.
"Fleamont Potter and I go way back, actually," the professor explained a bit shyly, rubbing the back of his head nervously as he'd clearly overheard the last part. "He was my mentor and trainer back when I joined the American Aurors shortly after the Grindelwald war, and saved my life quite a few times since. Looking out for his injured nephew was the least I could do." He paused a bit, looking down with a sigh. "Sorry I couldn't save you, Harry. I was two carriages behind you, but the other Death Eaters held me up too long for me to be of any real help."
Harry waved it away. "It's alright. I glimpsed you trying to help out, I know you did what you could. Not your fault you couldn't get to me in time."
Professor Clarke let out a relieved sigh, and smiled genuinely as he looked at them. "Thank you Harry. I felt quite guilty for that one. It eases my nerves you don't hold it against me."
"It's alright," Harry assured him. Clarke nodded, and turned so he could look at both Dorea and Harry at the same time.
"I just came from an emergency meeting with Charlus and Lord Black-"
"Baron Black" Dorea corrected with pride, though it seemed more from an automatic habit than any real ire about the mistake.
"Baron Black," Clarke sheepishly corrected himself. "We've mostly recovered from the attack on the manor. All injured have been treated, all brooms repaired, all robes mended and such things. Nothing major really discussed. There are two things, though. The first is this." With that, he reached into his right robe pocket, and withdrew something green hanging from a silver chain. Harry instantly recognised the Locket he'd taken from Voldemort during their short fight.
"We found it in the tatters that were Harry's clothes from when he was rescued from the Manor, when we were dissecting them for objects of value he might miss. Your spare wands, the invisibility cloak, your map of the school, those sort of things. And this had Baron Black quite concerned."
"He should be," Harry agreed, then hurried to explain when he realised how that made him look. "I cut that from Voldemort's neck," he ignored Dorea's wince at the name, though Clarke fortunately didn't flinch in the slightest, "and he seemed quite upset when he couldn't find it. I thought he might find it important for some reason, so I figured it best that I took it so you guys could figure out why."
"Smart thinking," Clarke complimented with a smile, and Dorea nodded. She immediately took it from Clarke's hand, and pocketed it.
"I'll take it to them," She said upon his surprised and questioning glance. "You have classes to prepare for, and after Pomfrey wakes up I'm heading over to Potter Manor anyway, so I might as well take it with me. Besides, with my family history I'm the greater expert on Dark Magic artefacts."
"Suit yourself," Clarke shrugged. "The other thing is that with the recent attack on you, Bones, and Longbottom, not to mention Voldemort's newfound interest in you specifically, they want to step up your training. More one-on-one sessions in duelling and fighting and increasing your exercise routines, as well as lessons in battle tactics and strategies. They don't want you to be caught and defeated as easily again."
Harry saw the sense in that. While it helped in preparation for the inevitable encounters, the exercising and running he'd done for most of the summer and at Hogwarts since was mostly to make up for the stunted growth he'd had at the Dursleys, the events of later becoming a secondary consideration. He'd mostly depended on the spell tutoring from Charlus and Dorea to ensure he'd be able to defend himself. But they were right: he needed to step it up if he wanted to stop something like Riddle Manor from happening again, and simply running laps around the Quidditch pitch and half heartedly lifting weights in the Room of Requirement most mornings wasn't going to cut it. His gr- his mother frowned, though. "I get how he wants to do that over the holidays, and I wholeheartedly support the idea, but how does he plan to do that when you're in Hogwarts?"
"That's simple. Fleamont called in a favour." Clarke gave a grin, and spread his arms as he made an elaborate bow. "Sir Isaac Clarke, Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher, malcontent, and private instructor in anything involving defeating Death Eaters. At your service," he said dramatically, before he looked up from his bow and grinned. "As I said, looking out for Fleamont's nephew's the least I can do."
Harry widened his eyes in surprise. Dumbledore was giving Clarke permission to give a student this much extra tutoring? That was a pleasant surprise. The Dumbledore Harry remembered (well, he didn't remember him like that originally, but he still realised he truly was that way after examining his own memories for his Occlumency) was controlling and manipulative, even if he meant well at heart. For him to give a teacher free rein like that was… surprising. "And he just lets you do that?"
Here, though, Clarke shrugged sheepishly. "Well, Charlus argued the point very well. Too well, if you ask me. As I was leaving to deliver the news, the two were still arguing over what specifically was to be taught even after I was given permission to tutor you."
Even as Dorea rolled her eyes in exasperation at his antics, she let out a sigh in relief. "Thank you, Isaac. I can see why my brother-in-law thinks so highly of you."
"Not a problem," Clarke reassured, before turning to Harry. "If you're up for it, Kid, meet me on Sunday morning in my classroom at… Say around eight o'clock. And ensure you've already done your physical exercises by then."
"I'll be there," Harry promised. Clarke nodded, and left the wing to give Harry and his mother their privacy back.
"A good man, Isaac Clarke," Dorea complimented him after he left. "He has issues about his own self confidence and he isn't very ambitious, but he's humble and very able in Potions and Defence against the Dark Arts. He'll do a good job of tutoring you."
Harry nodded in agreement. It would really help him if he were to receive some extra training, especially from a former Auror as inventive as Clarke. Still, he wondered how he would fit it all in. With the DA, Quidditch, learning that Spell-Bending stuff from the Peverell book, Potions tutoring until Christmas, and quality time with his parents and their friends his schedule was getting rather full. Yet, he knew he could manage so far. If necessary, he could even combine quality time with some of the other activities. If he let the Rascals worry about Voldemort and locating the Horcruxes through the memories he was sending for now, he should be all right.
And speaking of the memories…
He sighed. Better to get it out now than bottling it up later, or Charlus and Dorea wouldn't be happy about him keeping something like this from them. "I had another memory of him," Harry admitted.
Dorea's gaze immediately returned to him, a sympathetic expression on her face. She knew that even if they were boring and normal memories he still despised having them, and that if it were something especially horrifying or malevolent it would be even worse. "When?" she asked simply, not yet asking what he saw.
"Seconds before I woke up here in the hospital wing," he answered. He fell silent for a moment, gathering his courage. No matter how he brought it she wouldn't like this. No one would like hearing about how they would die. "It's the first one after his Hogwarts years. It…" Harry paused, his eyes becoming watery. "I saw how you died."
Dorea's face immediately fell, and he saw she was also mentally preparing herself for what she would hear, even as she grabbed Harry's hand in reassurance, though Harry wasn't sure whether it was for himself or for her.
"It happened at night." The words of the memory simply tumbled out of Harry as he related what he'd seen. Randolph changing the wards of the Manor with Rookwood's assistance, Reginald's analysis of what would happen should certain members of the alliance die, Reginald being pressured into starting the Fiendfyre, Dolohov actually doing it… Seeing Charlus actually come and investigate alongside Arcturus.
By the time it ended, Dorea's eyes were as wet as his were, though she managed to hold in her tears so far. Harry sighed, and grabbed his wand and one of the empty potion vials next to his bed. He made a quick scourgify to ensure it was clean of any stains or remaining potion, and then summoned the memory from his head. He deposited it in, and looked for the cork. Thankfully, Dorea did so herself, and silently took the memory and pocketed it.
"Thank you," Dorea said, "for telling me that is. Back when you just arrived, I don't doubt you'd have kept it to yourself for a long time rather than telling us outright."
Harry nodded, unable to dispute that.
She leaned over, and gave a hug as fierce as the one he gave her at first. He returned it as well.
"There's a small relief at least," Harry pointed out as he realised something. "Charlus killed the Dolohov, Rookwood, and Rudolphus Lestrange from my future back in the Manor, so he got at least some sort of revenge."
"That he did," Dorea agreed, hugging him a bit more strongly for a moment before separating.
"I need to go away for a moment," she said, holding up both the locket and the memory. "Charlus needs to know about these. I'll be back soon, though."
He nodded, and she turned to leave. He suspected she needed a moment alone to compose herself, though, from how fast she was striding.
"Wait," he called out, one last question for her on his mind. Dorea stopped and turned to face him.
"How come Madam Pomfrey isn't here? Usually she's very protective of her wing."
Dorea smiled, and Harry was relieved to see it was a genuine smile. "That's very simple, Harry. We shared the same house and year together, as well as studying at Saint Mungo's at the same time. We're friends, and she knows I can be trusted to take care of her patients."
Harry nodded, and Dorea left and closed the doors to the wing. He sighed and closed his eyes to rest. That had been an emotionally taxing moment a few minutes ago, recounting his grandparents' (no, parents') deaths, and combined with the reason he was in the wing in the first place, he knew he needed rest.
The door banged open again after barely a minute, though, and Harry looked up. He couldn't keep the smile off his face, though, with the enthusiastic greeting he got.
"Greetings," James Potter called majestically, leading the Marauders and Hermione and Ron in. Neville, Ginny, and Luna hung back for the moment, allowing the Marauders their chance of an enthusiastic greeting. They were dragging a cart similar to those in luxurious muggle restaurants with them, covered by a bright white cloth.
"We heard they were about to present the new iteration of the classic Harry Potter to us," he continued.
"But it looks like he got a bit banged up," Sirius responded despondently, though it was highly exaggerated.
"Ugh. And he's bedridden," Peter said, a mock-sneer on his face that would even make the older Snape nod in respect.
Remus sighed in exasperation. "I'm happy to see you're awake, Harry. Would you mind giving me a mercy killing? Their sense of humour is torturing me, and no one else wants to."
Now, before the rest of the Marauders could get in an indignant response, Ron pushed them aside with the cart and brought it up. "Now Harry," he said, a smile plastered on his face. "In celebration of your awakening, we had the house-elves prepare a special feast for you." He pulled the cloth off with that, revealing a varied assortment of mostly sweets and candy. Ron pointed to a large box of Every Flavoured Beans.
"Skele-Gro-flavoured beans," he explained, before pointing at a closed box of pastries.
"Skele-Gro-flavoured Pumpkin Pastries." Ron pointed at bottle of juice next.
"Skele-Gro-flavoured pumpkin juice."
Hermione rolled her eyes, and stepped forth before Ron could identify the entire cart's contents, even as Harry started smiling at the joke. "I had a book written especially for you. I thought you might appreciate it."
Harry nodded in thanks as she handed it, a book with barely a dozen pages and a yellow cover to him with a smile even as the others snickered away and Neville (who he noted in dismay still had the three slash scars from Greyback on the right side of his face, even if the wounds themselves had healed), Ginny, and Luna approached. He read the title, and promptly threw his head against the headboard in exasperation. "Evading for Dummies: the guide on how to dodge," he said with a deadpan voice, laced with a hint of exasperation. "Really."
Hermione smiled, as she took it and opened it. It was mostly a picture book showing ways stick figures could dodge. What did it for him, though, was that there were several examples in the back of how one usually failed to dodge… and each of such examples had a picture copy of Harry's face plastered over them.
"Thank you," he said sarcastically. "Just what I needed: a book with pictures of myself. I'll end up fawning over myself like my brother or Lockhart if this keeps up."
"Well, you obviously need a book on how to dodge, considering you still end up here too often," Ginny said, as she finally caught up with the rest of them. "And what better way to instruct than show the various ways you could fail?" She batted her eyelashes at him jokingly with a mock-innocent expression, and he rolled his own eyes even as he felt himself smile.
"Thanks guys," he said, genuinely this time. "It's good to be back."
"It's good to see you back," James smiled.
"Now let's eat," Ron said. "I reckon none of us have had breakfast yet."
"Ron!" Hermione admonished, swatting his arm before dragging him a bit away so they wouldn't argue right in Harry's face. "Honestly, is food all you can think about?!"
Harry smiled, ignoring the argument as he instead reached out for a pumpkin pastry on the cart. He spat it out after only one bite, even as James and Sirius fell to the ground and laughed.
The bloody bastards hadn't been joking about the taste.
Docks, Azkaban Island, North Sea, Ten Miles East of English coast
Antonin shivered, as he arrived on the Island. Say what you wanted about their uses, it always got to you when you were close to Dementors. It had been bad enough at the Manor, when there had only been two dozen at most. But now, here, where there were hundreds, it was really bad. It took all of Antonin's resolve to just keep walking and not fall and succumb to his worst memories. As a soldier of the Grindelwald war and his brief, two-year service with the muggle SAS after that, he had his fair share of them.
Fortunately, the Dark Lord had mercy on them and chose the easiest entrance to the underground levels for them: the entire floor of the arrival hall opened up and split in two, revealing a staircase that led into the darkness. The ministry Law Enforcement officers in sight, six in total, didn't do anything. Only three, who were likely on the Selwyn payroll, looked up before promptly turning their heads away, while the remaining three ignored it completely, showing they were under the Imperius curse.
Fortunately after descending the stairs until he was below where the floor would be the influence of the Dementors lessened, likely by a special ward that had been put up by the Dark Lord to protect his followers from the worst of it. Karkaroff and Travers followed close behind, and the floor closed up again behind them. Antonin immediately retrieved his wand and cast a Lumos. It was one thing to remain stoic and show your mental strength by walking to Dementors without one, but walking down a stairway in complete darkness was just foolish. Upon him doing so Travers and Karkaroff did likewise.
The stairs started to circle, and continued down for quite a while, but then again the levels only really expanded until after the base of the island had widened until was at least four times as wide below sea level as it was above. And even then it was mostly arrival rooms, sparse servant quarters, or storage cabinets for the first three levels.
The entire bit was also covered in darkness, but then again this part of the prison had only been inhabited for a few days, even if it had been constructed over a millennium ago. No one had bothered to replace the rusted-away fittings for the torches or bothered to install lights anyway. No, the refurbishing started from the bottom up, near the Dark Lord's quarters and the massive Ritual Chamber, and worked their way upwards. Indeed, as he eventually started to circle the central shaft, which went up high enough it even reached the top of the island before closing off, he saw signs of activity down below them. Lit torches, the sound of various incantations being spoken, and on occasion even bits of stone hovering past them and flying up or down levels.
Whoever had created this underground fortress, aside from being quite efficient when it came to housing troops and storing supplies with the hundreds of storerooms of supplies and treasures they'd found so far, had had an artistic sense. Rather than leaving the side of the central shaft bare and rough, it had arches carved into it, hundreds of them until Antonin thought they resembled the circular muggle colosseum in Rome quite a bit. Although it was only half as wide as said colosseum at the lowest reachable point, it was quite tall. Hundreds of metres in fact. Were it not for the fact they were only traveling until they got to the ritual chamber a third of the way down (which was admittedly the lowest one could get on foot) he would've had to walk hundreds of stairs and likely at least ten times as many metres down in order to reach the bottom.
If there was one. Many of the lower ranks and the superstitious ones debated there wasn't, that it went down to the core of the earth itself.
Of course, work was suspended for the night on the lower levels, for there was an inner circle meeting in the Ritual Chamber. That was where they were going right now. Antonin would've apparated or Portkeyed there directly, but the Dark Lord had expanded the Wards that prevented one from doing the same in the surface prison downwards so they covered the underground levels as well, in addition to keying them to himself so they would live and remain strong for as long as he did. And if Antonin flew in on a broom or flying carpet he was sure he would've been hexed first before they would've tried to identify if it was him. So walking it was.
Finally he arrived at the populated section. Gibbon and the elder Wilkes greeted him, and they held up their hands, wands twitching in their other hands should the trio prove hostile. Antonin, Travers, and Karkaroff merely rolled up their sleeves and portrayed their Marks, which allowed them to pass after a brief spell to check if they were authentic.
There were dozens down below, too. In one room, a despondent Rudolphus Lestrange sat on a crate, looking down at the picture of his brother, before looking up and staring into the distance with an enraged look on his face. In another lay various beds with the more severely wounded from the attack on the Manor on them. Antonin spied his good friend Tyranus Pyrites lying asleep on one of them, still recovering from having a javelin launched into his shoulder and a chandelier collapse on him and break many of his bones. Antonin debated on visiting, but decided against it; the Dark Lord demanded his immediate presence upon completing the visit to the Evans family, and He was not someone to be denied.
Finally, he arrived, and walked over the bridge. A single solid stone pillar rose from the centre of the shaft, and ended in a horizontal straight plateau fifty metres wide at about the level Antonin was now, connected to the remaining chambers by four old wooden bridges that had in his absence been turned into stone bridges (without handrails, in keeping with the fortress' original design and to Antonin's consternation at the lack of common sense. Then again, that was something the Wizarding world lacked aplenty.)
The others in the Inner Circle were already there. The people present were all important members to the cause, and could all be categorised into five official groups in Antonin's mind. The Financiers, the proverbial purses of the Death Eater cause that ensured they actually had the money, supplies, and connections to wage their war, like Abraxas Malfoy, Claudius Nott, Ignatius Selwyn, Cadmus Rosier, the socialite Walburga Black (though not anymore, considering Baron Black had cast her out), until his death at Baron Black's wand for betrothing his grand nieces Pollux Black, and Reginald Lestrange.
There were the truly skilled ones that had earned the Dark Lord's favour due to either many repeated successes or singular yet very great ones, like Cadmus' son Evan, Igor Karkaroff who was still walking behind Antonin as they walked onto the plateau, Samantha Zabini, Tyranus Pyrites, though the man himself was absent due to his injuries, until their untimely deaths and/or desertions at the Manor Alecto and Amycus Carrow and Bellatrix Black, and of course himself.
Then there were the Infiltrators, those that had embedded themselves deep into Wizarding Britain's society and Ministry of Magic (there were many more, of course, but these respective members were in charge of said infiltration networks and cells on the Dark Lord's behalf), like Barty Crouch Junior, Lucius Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Augustus Rookwood, Antioch Travers who was still walking behind Antonin, and Antonin's friend Corban Yaxley (though today only Malfoy, Yaxley, and Travers were present, the others too deeply embedded to get out of their posts and in here on such short notice).
And of course the representatives of the Dark Lord's non-human allies or allies that can't reach headquarters on short notice for other reasons than infiltration, with Fenrir Greyback (who even now was still nursing his healing jaw after having all his fangs violently pulled out) representing their Werewolf packs, the triumvirate of Viktor Levitsky, Amelia de la Serre, and Markus Corvinus representing the majority of the European Vampire Covens, an ugly and scarred Goblin named Bloodblade representing the hired Goblin mercenaries, Dragomir Despard and a few others Antonin didn't know by name representing the Dark Lord's Pureblood allies in other countries and on other continents, and a single Dementor in the background representing his own kind (though thankfully the ward Antonin had felt earlier kept its influence limited).
And last but most definitely not least, the Dark Lord himself, who was in a league of his own.
All of them wore their full Death Eater regalia, with dark cloaks and masks in all. Even the Dark Lord, though he never wore a mask, only a raised hood. Antonin made the respectful bow as he entered the filled plateau, before taking his place in the circle between Evan and Corban, who each greeted him with a smile partially hidden by their masks and a congratulatory pat on the back. Travers and Karkaroff did likewise and mingled with their own associates, Travers with Selwyn and Karkaroff moving to stand near Greyback.
"Ah, Antonin," the Dark Lord greeted him, sounding pleased for once. "I gather that your trip to Cokeworth was successful?"
"Yes, my Lord," Antonin answered. "The Evans and Dursley families are ashes right now, and the entire village of Cokeworth is burning under the flames of Fiendfyre as we speak."
"Did you inquire about their connection to the Potters?" the Dark Lord asked. Antonin nodded.
"I searched all of their minds with Legillimency, my Lord. Surprisingly, none of them knew anything about Harry Potter. As a matter of fact, the only thing I could find out about Potters at all in their minds was that the only Evans not present, a Hogwarts student named Lily, is frequently irritated by his brother James."
The Dark Lord grew pensive. "Curious that they knew nothing, Antonin, considering what I saw. You're sure you found all about them there is to find in their memories?"
"Their minds were as clear to me as crystal, my Lord," Antonin answered, starting to get nervous. If the Dark Lord suspected he hadn't been thorough…
The Dark Lord sighed. "Disappointing, but somehow not unexpected. And not a failure on your part, Antonin."
Antonin let out a sigh of relief, exhilarated he wasn't going to end up a dead or tortured corpse on the floor or at the bottom of the shaft. The Dark Lord turned away from Antonin, and spoke.
"Now, to more urgent matters," the Dark Lord started. "Our losses of Pureblood allies at the Ministry, combined with the defeat at the Manor, has cost us a fifth of our forces in England. Hardly a loss we suffer lightly."
"Indeed," Markus Corvinus, apparently the head of the Vampire Triumvirate leading the Covens, added. "A great many of our brothers and sisters were killed when the Manor was burned down."
The Dark Lord gave a mild glare that immediately made Corvinus back down, but continued. "The burning of the town of Cokeworth sent a statement that we are not out and defeated, but for now we need to be cautious. We cannot afford to suffer losses at that rate." He turned and directed himself to the various representatives.
"Fenrir, Markus, Viktor, Amelia, you are all free to continue to turn as many and satisfy your bloodlust as often you please, but I ask that you use stealth and subterfuge rather than force in order to do so. As I said, we cannot afford too close attention, now that the Great Alliance seemingly involves itself in this war on top of the Ministry and Dumbledore's Order."
The people addressed bowed their heads, even as Antonin observed Greyback grimace due to the pain it caused in his jaws. Viktor Levitsky frowned, though. "We cannot openly act on our own, as we did before we joined forces?"
Instead of addressing Viktor's concern, the Dark Lord turned to one of his other followers. "Selwyn, due to your family's history with Dark Rituals, I expect you have the Lunar and Solar cycles memorised. When is the next total Solar eclipse?"
Selwyn looked momentarily caught off-guard at being suddenly addressed when the Dark Lord was still handling his business with the non-humans, but promptly answered as soon as he composed himself. "April 1977. In the middle of the month, I reckon, but I have to check with my telescopes and Solar and Lunar charts to be sure of an exact date and time."
The Dark Lord nodded, and turned back to Viktor. "There's your answer. Lay low for now, and quietly turn and recruit as many Vampires as you can, and come April 1977, I will enact a ritual that will greatly prolong the eclipse, and we shall organise a major daytime raid for you and your Covens so you can turn as many as you want. A location and exact time will be forthcoming as the date approaches."
The three Vampires, extremely satisfied with that plan even if it was so far away, nodded with predatory grins and resumed their place in the background of the circle. The Dark Lord turned to a number of the financiers next.
"Claudius, Abraxus, how fares the inventorying of the treasures found down here? In preparation for future raids as we are planning, we might need more materials and items than your fortunes alone can provide without crippling you."
Antonin suspected the Dark Lord didn't care whether the acquisition of such items would bankrupt them or not; he was too ruthless and power-hungry for that. But he still needed to portray an image of being sympathetic to them and their plight, and so took on a concerned face as the two respective families gave their reports. "Rest assured my Lord, with the fortune here we could supply our entire armies with Goblin forged armour and we wouldn't be spending half of it. Whatever items you will request we buy shall not be our undoing."
The Dark Lord nodded. "Good. Very good. And what of the… Extraordinary Items I asked you all to retrieve?"
Here the Financiers looked uncertain, nervous even. Antonin couldn't blame them. These were the ingredients needed to complete the Dark Lord's ritual that would rid them of their most hated enemies. The end goal they all worked towards. Any, ANY failure on this front would not be taken lightly. "We have almost all the items you need and cannot retrieve yourself, my Lord. Only three things need to be retrieved. But…-" Ignatius Selwyn trailed off nervously, but Reginald Lestrange, former co-founder of the Rascals, took over for him.
"Due to some of the conditions you asked us to retrieve the items under, we cannot acquire the last three items at this time. As a matter of fact, the next one can only be retrieved in a year, and the last two six months after. Certainly not in time for the proposed Eclipse Attacks, so the two cannot overlap and provide cover for the ultimate plan."
The Dark Lord growled in anger and clenched his fists, and his wand flew into his hand. Immediately, all present grew wary. Antonin started to bounce on the balls of his feet, ready to dodge should a Killing or Cruciatus Curse let loose out of frustration accidentally go near him. Fortunately, though, the Dark Lord stayed his hand.
"A great disappointment," he growled. "But it will not change the plan. We merely need to devise another diversion when the time comes, so neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore nor the Barons will think to send people until it is too late."
"What about an all-out assault on Hogwarts at that time, Dark Lord?" Bloodblade suggested, and everyone, even the Dark Lord, turned to regard the Goblin with surprise. "None would expect it due to the false rumour you fear Dumbledore," the Dark Lord growled and moved to raise his wand at the implication, but the Goblin apathetically spoke on to relay his plan to them. "But if we gather all our allies, even those in other countries and on other continents, certainly we can overcome many of the Wards present, and overwhelm any response the Ministry or the Great Alliance will send to oppose you. Even they cannot overcome the thousands spread across the world sympathetic to your plight. And if either yourself or any of the skilled witches and wizards here kill Dumbledore during that battle, it would be such a blow to their morale they'll never recover, regardless of the success of this 'Ultimate Plan' you cooked up."
The Dark Lord, although silent, visibly fumed at the implication, through the existing rumour He feared Dumbledore, that he was weaker than the Hogwarts headmaster. Antonin wisely decided to stay quiet, as did the remainder of the Inner Circle. But then the Dark Lord's expression calmed, as the wheels started turning in the Dark Lord's head. It could work, Antonin supposed. Despite the power of the Wards and the skill of Dumbledore and the Great Alliance members, any bastion could fall if overwhelmed by enough force. And given how many people were loyal to the Dark Lord (over a thousand witches and wizards in Britain, hundreds of Dark Creatures like Giants, Trolls, Dementors, Werewolves, Vampires, Rogue Goblins, and House-Elves, not to mention the dozens of prisoners in Azkaban that could be Imperiused and the hundreds of allies gained on the continent and outside of it during the Dark Lord's travels) it was very well possible they could win this.
But there was a huge risk as well. The Dark Lord couldn't be present during the battle full-time, if at all, for he had to commence the ritual from the ritual chamber here at some point, which was in turn a lengthy and fragile process where many things could go wrong. And if, by some absurd miracle, they lost the battle and the majority of their forces, or the ritual was interrupted, it could set them back by decades in the amount of forces and/or ingredients lost, if not stop them altogether. Even if the Dark Lord survived, very few supporting their cause would, and Dumbledore, Barons Potter and Black, or the moralistic and idealistic Ministry members could push through whatever laws they wanted to push through, with no opposition whatsoever. A lot would depend on them winning this battle.
The Dark Lord finally seemed to decide. "It carries a lot of risk. But it carries great rewards," he spoke. "Very well. We'll prepare for such a battle. Stock up on potions and spell-resistant materials and such," the Dark Lord paused, smirking. "Have our skilled Potioneers start brewing batches of Felix Felicis, as many cauldrons as they can handle at a time. If we would risk such a battle, we'll take every advantage we can get."
Many people, including Antonin, nodded as orders were handed out. Safe houses to be prepared, stuff to be bought in advance, forewarning allies to prepare for the day to come. Some might argue it's a bit early considering the attack itself is quite far away, but the way the Dark Lord saw it there was no harm in being prepared, and since no one would find out about the lair beneath the Ministry's own prison due to every entrance needing to even be found, much less unlocked with Parseltongue, there was no problem storing a lot of it here. And besides, it was quite a bit of stuff and material they were bringing in, including for people who weren't even there yet, so there was no harm in being prepared from that early on. Antonin tuned most of it out. He was a man who fought and got things done. The kind of man that led the charge alongside the Dark Lord when the assault on Hogwarts began. Not the kind of man that handled the logistics, unless the man doing the handling needed protecting.
"Unless anyone else has anything to bring forth right now, this meeting is concluded," the Dark Lord ordered after the details had been ground out. The Inner Circle members nodded, and after it became clear no one would bring anything up, they all started to disperse. "Reginald, Abraxas, stay behind for a moment. It's about the… Items I asked you to protect," the Dark Lord called out, and the Wizengamot Member and professional Assassin stopped in their tracks before turning to the Dark Lord.
The other Inner Circle members ignored this, and they all crossed over one of the bridges. Antonin headed for the southern bridge and look up the room he'd be staying in for now, looking back to see Malfoy hand over a weathered looking black book, and Lestrange retrieving a small cup from a pocket in his robes.
Corridor to Hospital Wing, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands
"Freedom at last," Harry grinned, as the doors to the Hospital wing closed behind him. Finally, after most of the day had passed and all of his friends, DA members, and a surprising number of other students had come by to see him, he was let out. Pomfrey was being merciful, for once, but it might have something to do with Dorea being there and talking her out of it. All of the injuries he'd received had been treated aside from the hallucinative aspect of the curse, and Dorea had successfully argued with her friend that there was little use to just keep him there with nothing to do. So, with a promise extracted that he would return the moment the hallucinations became too much, he was let out.
Of course, he was alone for the moment. His friends, not accustomed to Pomfrey letting a patient go early, hadn't expected him to be released until at least tomorrow. That meant he was free to do for now as he pleased. Especially since there was no use going to classes: his bag with all of his schoolbooks and parchment and stuff was still in Gryffindor tower where he'd left it for the Hogsmeade trip he'd planned before the kidnapping, and the time it took to get them and then head for where the class was taught, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest since it was Care of Magical Creatures, and the last class of the day, it would take longer than the time the class still lasted. So instead, having realised he was a bit hungry, he headed for the Great Hall. Supper was soon upon them, and he might as well go and eat for a bit.
To his surprise, he wasn't the only one there. Well, that wasn't a surprise considering he actually didn't have class with everyone from the school at the same time. No, the surprise lay in the fact he recognised someone.
Lily also already sat at the Gryffindor table, reading from an Arithmancy textbook. After a brief glance to ensure he hadn't missed someone (he had, but those were the less than welcoming Slytherins like Wilkes, Avery, the younger Gregory Mulciber, and to his slight disappointment Severus Snape at the Slytherin table, and an Edgar Bones deep in discussion with Amos Diggory at the Hufflepuff table), he headed over to her.
She looked up, startled as he sat down in front of her suddenly. "Hey, you're let out early," she pointed out with a smile.
Harry shrugged, sheepishly returning the smile at his mother. "My mother had a word with Pomfrey. My injuries are healed, and I was just turning to porridge while I was kept there for 'Observation'." He made a face at using the word. "Personally, I think she just likes to keep us Potters contained, to be sure we don't get into any trouble."
"Well, given the reputation of your brother, and now what happened with you… I can't say I blame her for thinking Potters never get up to any good," Lily pointed out. "I mean, your brother gets in the hospital wing at least twice a month for duelling Slytherins, or accidents in Potions, as well as finding excuses to be there with Remus whenever he's sick. And now with that kidnapping attempt on you, Neville, and Bones, it would seem to outsiders like you're just as much trouble as he is."
"Hey!" Harry said indignantly. "It's not like I go out looking for trouble, you know. It's just that it always happens to find me."
"Sure, sure," Lily said, with a mock-condescending tone and rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "You're always innocent. It's always your brother's fault you get in trouble."
Harry winced. "Well, not exactly. It's just…" He trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to explain Death Eaters had always had a peculiar interest in him.
Lily laughed. "Relax, Harry. I was just taking the piss with you."
Harry maturely stuck his tongue out at her, and got out the old Peverell Tome Luna had been so kind to deliver to him with a small bag earlier today, so he wouldn't be bored in the Hopsital wing. "So how come you're here already? Most of the others have classes right now."
Lily shrugged. "Arithmancy gave us a tough and long assignment for our double period, and Professor Pentecost said we could go as soon as we finished. Mary, Hermione, Remus, and I happened to finish early."
Harry nodded. "Okay. So where are they?"
"Mary went back up to her dorm to write to her parents," Lily explained, before donning a smile, and removing a handful of wands from her sleeve. "And I ditched Hermione and Remus in a magically locked classroom without wands. It was surprising how many Hermione had on her person, though."
Harry's eyebrows raised. "You left them alone in a locked classroom? Without wands?"
"What?" Lily asked defensively, as she put the wands away again. "Since we all got pulled back to Hogwarts immediately after your kidnapping, they never got their Hogsmeade date. And they'd been pussy-footing around it ever since. I just got tired of it and locked them away somewhere."
Harry chuckled, seeing how that might work. Not that that would go fast: Hermione was pretty conservative when it came to dating in Harry's original fifth year; she made that pretty clear when Seamus once asked her why she never went on any. And Remus would think it would be a burden for anyone to date him, thinking it would be dangerous for them to date a Werewolf and dealing with the backlash of that. It might take a while for them to actually do something about their feelings.
"Most people lock couples in broom closets, though," Harry pointed out, though he smiled to show he approved. Lily and James had to have had something in common for them to get together at school even if James matured a bit. And given Lily didn't enjoy broom riding as much, which ruled out Quidditch, and they didn't really enjoy the same subjects as much, that had left their mischievous sense of humour.
"Couldn't find one on short notice," Lily smirked. "I'm not as familiar with the castle's finer layout details as you and the Marauders seem to be."
"Be careful, though," Harry pointed out. "Remus might be the nicest of the four, but he's still the brains of the Marauders, and bound to take some form of revenge for that. And with Hermione to help him out…" Harry mock-shivered. "Be afraid, Lily Evans," he said dramatically. "Be very, very afraid."
Lily never lost her smirk during all that. "They can try. I happen to know a few things myself."
Harry laughed, and Lily joined in for a few moments. But then she went back to her Arithmancy book, and Harry opened the Peverell book. He wasn't worried about Lily or some other passerby trying to read it and its secrets: he'd found out early on the book needed a Peverell granting someone permission, as well as a drop of that person's blood for others not of Peverell lineage to read it. To anyone else, it would seem like unintelligible scribbles and doodling images James could have made during History of Magic classes.
They stayed like that for quite a while, both contently reading books in one another's company as they waited for supper. The Peverell Tome about Spell Bending (okay, it had admittedly more than that, but that was what he was focused on at the moment.) proved quite distracting, as its instructions required him to practice his Occlumency while attempting to do something wandlessly and nonverbally (it was apparently essential to do these at the same time) before it actually went to instructing on how to bend spells. And to his own disappointment, despite his apparent aptitude for all three as proven at Gringotts, he hadn't managed to cast a single spell without a wand, although he was getting better and better at nonverbal magic. So he practiced lifting the bag of books Lily had next to her on the table. It took up so much of his attention, though, that he almost missed the fact it was nearing supper time. He looked up, and saw a lot more people were in the hall already, though none of the people he was really close with. Shrugging, he closed the Tome, realising he couldn't concentrate here any longer.
He tried to ask Lily to do the same thing, to strike up another conversation with her, but was stopped from doing so as barks and hoots came from above, and he looked up. Owls came down upon them from above for a round of evening mail. Harry frowned bemusedly, as evening mail wasn't delivered often. Not to mention two Ravens were with them as well. And while he didn't know what it meant, judging by the paling from the people at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw people upon spotting them, and the speculative look from most of the Slytherins and singular gleeful look from Wilkes, Harry knew it couldn't mean anything good.
He further paled when one Raven landed in front of Lily, holding its leg out to her, while from the corner of his eye he saw the other land near Severus Snape.
He wanted to ask what it was, but before he could Hedwig landed near him, and deposited a newspaper, the Evening Prophet, with the upper left corner torn off. Harry frowned, considering it odd, until he saw an owl not far away giving extremely angry glares at Hedwig, pieces of said newspaper still in its claw. Then he laughed. His owl had become so attached and protective of him, only she could deliver him letters and mail. Whenever she was around, anyway.
Sighing and now it was important, he thanked Hedwig and rubbed her chest while he read the front page of the article.
CALAMITY AT COKEWORTH: ENTIRE MUGGLE TOWN RAZED TO THE GROUND BY DEATH EATERS
By Hephaestus Belby.
The attack on You-Know-Who's forces didn't go without reprisal. Earlier today, the Ministry was called in due to an excessive amount of magic in a single area, although casters weren't identified. In accordance with the Ministry's infamously quick response times, Aurors were sent immediately, including Alastor Moody, Anamaria Shacklebolt, Nick Proudfoot, and Rufus Scrimgeour. What was found, however, horrified even the experienced Shacklebolt and Moody.
The casters, as earlier said, were unidentified, having already escaped the scene, but a massive Fiendfyre, consisting of multiple Fire chimaeras, Fire manticores, and Fire dragons, was burning down roughly a quarter of the muggle town, with the remainder of it already lost. The Aurors on site immediately called for support, especially as seconds after their arrival they discovered the Dark Mark hovering above what is presumed to be the site where the Fiendfyre started. But the Fiendfyre couldn't be contained and extinguished before the town was destroyed in its entirety.
This reporter presumes the Fiendfyre was started in retaliation for the attack on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's recently discovered hideout in the Muggle Manor near Little Hangleton, which was recently attacked by members of the Great Alliance after a number of the heirs of its founders were kidnapped and taken there. The resulting battle, while kept away from the Muggles by repelling charms and various wards cast by the Great Alliance, resulted in hundreds of followers of You-Know-Who being killed. It appears with this fire, that You-Know-Who didn't take that lightly.
No Wizards or Witches were killed in the fire as far as both the Ministry and the Daily Prophet are aware, but thousands, if not tens of thousands of Muggle lives were lost, with no survivors whatsoever from those that were actually in the centre of the fire, less so the bystanders on the edges of it. The Ministry Obliviators have ensured any bystanders will presume it was a simple muggle fire that got out of control, so the Statute of Secrecy remains intact. But the message from You-Know-Who is clear: He is set back, but not defeated.
Harry didn't read anymore of the article, smart enough to put the pieces together himself. Lily had mentioned once that she lived in Cokeworth, and that Severus lived nearby in the same neighbourhood. If the entire village was burned to the ground, that meant there were no survivors.
Lily, now tearfully clutching the letter, got up and ran out of the hall. Harry took a moment to reach across the table and stuff all of her books in the bag she'd left behind, as well as doing the same with his own, before grabbing it and his own and following. The moment of delay cost him, though, for when he got out she was nowhere in sight. Cursing, he wondered where she would go. While he didn't know her well enough to know what she would do exactly, he knew most people would do two things in grief: hide away somewhere and cry it out, or find some place secluded and destroy everything in sight. With Lily's temper and her caring nature, both were very strong possibilities.
Fortunately, the door outside was open, and the Marauders (minus Remus), Ron, Luna, Moliere, Vinnie, and Neville were just returning from Care of Magical Creatures. He ran up to them. "James, I need the map now," his own copy of it, he cursed his grandparents for once, was deposited in his trunk back at his dorm along with all the other possessions he'd had with him when he'd been kidnapped.
"Wha-" James started to question, a confused expression on his face. Harry growled, he had no time for this. Being alone in the corridors at this time wasn't safe for his mother, especially with how much more violent most Slytherins were in this time compared to his own. Add in her own anguish in which she wouldn't spot danger until it was too late, and it was a recipe for disaster.
"No time. I need it now!" he said, louder than he intended.
Without hesitation, Peter got it out and handed it over. Harry immediately said the password, and inspected the map even as the ink still formed. He soon spotted her, running up the Great Staircase. She finally ended up on the seventh floor. And with the corridor she just ran into, he had little doubt she'd go to the Room of Requirement to hide out. He blanked the map out again, so that by the time the Marauders had it up again Lily would've disappeared. The Marauders hadn't gotten about to adding the Room to it yet, so if Lily went in there she would be safe from their search.
"Thanks," he said, handing the map back to Peter before running up the stairs immediately. He didn't wait to hear their questions as to why, or their questions on whether he needed help, but he did close the door to said staircase behind him with a wave of his wand and Wingardium Leviosa. That bought him enough time for him to lose them, thereby needing them to consult the map, further delaying them.
He bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, racing up to the seventh floor. He ignored all the ghosts who asked where he was going, or Peeves who tried to pelt him with water from multiple buckets. He raced up to the seventh floor and headed for the room.
He found Lily just in front of it, looking incredibly angry at not being able to unlock the room. Most of the people were kept out by the Fidelius that had been placed on it by Hermione and Luna, but even then only he and the time travellers would know how to get in. And since Lily was only in on the secret and not on the method, it would be incredibly difficult for her to get in.
Upon seeing him, though, she immediately raised her wand at him, her furious expression turning to him. "Go AWAY, Potter! Get out of my sight!"
He winced. While he knew she likely didn't mean anything hurtful by it, he had seen his mother had quite the temper, so he wisely held his hands up in front of him. "Calm down, Lily. I'm only here to help you get in the room."
Lily kept her furious glare on him, but fortunately was still reasonable enough to give him a bit of space. He made three quick paces in front of the room, knowing he needed a room for her to vent in. Judging by her angry expression, she wasn't going to cry it out until she got her anger out of her system.
The door appeared after the third pace, and she immediately flung it open and stormed in. Harry quickly and quietly slipped in behind her, before moving to the edge of the room. As he'd expected, as soon as Lily was in the room she started hexing every dummy and target in sight. Every piece of furniture, every dummy, everything that remotely looked like it could be hit… If it was there, she was cursing it. Harry made to move as quietly as possible and stayed behind and away from her. He didn't want to get hexed by accident.
Lily duelled quite impressively. He'd seen so at the DA before, in which she defeated nearly everyone in her year (himself, Neville, and a few others excluded) and everyone in the one above as well, so only seventh years could beat her. It wasn't that she used particularly impressive spells or had a lot of magical power behind them in the DA usually, but she was very fast and surprisingly agile, and apparently a master improvising of using her entire environment and spell arsenal to her advantage. She animated the fragmented pieces of debris so they formed a floating ball, and flung it at a table with a dummy behind it with the force of a baseball. Like his grandmother Dorea did with the Bellatrix of his time, she froze one target instantly with a freezing spell before destroying it with what he was starting to fear weren't mere Reductos judging by the force of the explosions, but very powerful exploding curses.
And then she suddenly turned around, and her furious expression focused on him. He immediately froze. A Basilisk's stare had nothing on her wrathful glare.
"DID. I. NOT. TELL. YOU. TO. GO. AWAY?!" She ground the words out at a near shout, her wand slowly rising with each word to point at him. Harry edged backwards, not sure what she would do in her moment of temperamental fury.
"Lily, look-" he started.
"EXPULSO!" she cried out, and Harry's eyes widened as the curse sailed straight for his head. He collapsed on the ground to duck underneath just in time. Harry looked up at her, only to immediately roll to the side as another curse headed straight for him. He rolled twice more to evade more curses, before jumping to his feet and getting his wand in hand. He immediately shielded when she tried the freezing charm again, before ducking under the second exploding hex.
He ducked and dodged around her curses, but never fired a curse back. Not only did he not want to hex his mother, but she needed to vent. True, she would regret it if he was hit, being a good friend and classmate and all, but he needed to talk to her about this, and he had no doubt she'd lock him out of the room if he left. So he rolled when she sent a hex too unfamiliar to safely shield against. He shielded himself when she sent out so many hexes in a vengeful flurry he had no room to jump aside or dodge. He ducked when a conjured thick wooden pole was sent his way like a battering ram, and backed up as she advanced. He cowered behind conjured slabs of stone when neither dodging nor conventional shielding sufficed against her spells. He could hold out. While he didn't know how much Lily did in working out physically, he himself wasn't out of shape due to Charlus's training regime to undo years of Dursley malnourishment, and he knew he likely had more magical power to call upon, so she couldn't tire him out that way.
As if thoughts themselves made them happen, she started to pant from the exertion. The time between her hexes became longer and longer, and the variety between them decreased. Fortunately the curses she did still send were starting to become rather tame compared to earlier: mere Stupefy, Incarcerous or Petrificus Totalus hexes from the conventional DADA classe, rather than the violent hexes he was teaching the DA to defend against in the case of a Death Eater attacks (since said hexes required quite a bit of magic to perform at all, much less so often so soon after one another, it made sense she stopped using them and resorted to less taxing ones). After another minute of defending himself she even started to stagger a bit. He simply let her.
Finally, after another minute or so of hexing, the tears started to flow and she stopped her hexing. Instead, a wall appeared mere inches behind her, and she collapsed against it. Her energy and anger spent from her attempts to hex him, she was left with only the sadness and anguish about her loss. Evidently, she was both a venter and a cryer. He approached her warily, just in case she wasn't done venting her anger at the loss of her family yet.
But his caution wasn't needed apparently. He got close enough that if he reached out he could put her hairs out of her face, and yet she didn't react. Her wand lay next to her limp hand, as she sobbed and cried where she sat, her arms and legs limp and only the support of the wall keeping her upright.
He sat down next to her, and let her cry. He didn't know how long he sat there, and he didn't care. Aside from the remedial potions lessons, DA, and occasional regular classes where she'd try to sit with him this was the closest he'd had to a moment alone with his mother. Even if it was because she was grieving the loss of…
Merlin! I can't even get to meet my Grandparents from the other side of the family.
He cursed silently. Even back in his own time, his mother's parents had passed away far before he'd ever had a chance to meet them. But it seems fate liked being a right tosser. Half of the family he should've had, just gone. Like a flash of flame, considering how fast Charlus said Fiendfyre consumed human flesh.
And all in retaliation for the attack on Riddle Manor. Oh god, even these deaths were on him. It seemed no matter where he went, people died around him. His parents, Quirrel, Cedric, nearly his closest friends at the Ministry, nearly his father's side of the family when he'd first so crudely arrived at Potter Manor, the four coming to rescue him at Riddle Manor, and now his mother's side bit the dust.
"It's all your fault, Harry Potter," the hissing hallucinative voice of Voldemort whispered in his mind.
He sighed again, trying to keep Dorea's words from the hospital wing in mind, especially considering the hallucinations were now playing up, but it was hard. The others lost at the battle knew there was a chance they could die. They knew what they were getting into. But the Evanses… The closest thing they had to a connection to this mess right now was a daughter they had that was attending Hogwarts. And if that wa…
"I've lost everything, Harry," Lily finally spoke, interrupting his thoughts. He turned to focus on her, and tried not to flinch. He'd seen those eyes before. Not the fact they're emerald green, he knew he shared that with his mother. No, that hard look of pain in them beneath the tears, the hurt, the self-blame, Merlin knows how she got that in her head… He had had that look himself, the first few weeks at the Dursleys shortly after Cedric's death. It was a look that didn't befit his mother.
"How come?" he dared ask, though a deep pit in his stomach told him he already knew the answer.
"I've lost everything, Harry," Lily repeated. "I cut nearly all my ties with my old muggle friends through my negligence at maintaining contact and my enthusiasm about the Wizarding world. My parents were both only children, so I have no aunts or uncles I could move in with. My grandparents and all of their brothers and sisters have all passed away. Hell, even my in-laws from my sister's side aren't an option considering they were supposed to be over with my parents at supper by the time the fire was supposedly started. And now, with my parents and my sister both gone…" She hiccuped again and set herself off into crying again.
Harry grimaced. Indeed, from the sound of it, she had nowhere to go. In fact, she herself had just explained how her own family was now basically down to her unless one wanted to track down through generations of other descendants of ancestors. And her options at Hogwarts weren't much better. While Marlene herself was kind and supportive of Lily, she had made very clear that in the current climate her parents were too nervous about the subject of Muggleborns to even talk about it. There was no way they'd take one in. Mary herself had explained she had at least nine siblings and her parents, who like the Weasleys of Harry's time weren't that well-off, had another on the way, so that was out, too. Audrey might take her in, or Professor McGonagall, but he didn't think it likely. Audrey wasn't close to Lily, and with her Head of House and Deputy Headmistress duties, as well as escorting the new Muggleborns, McGonagall's summers were full as it was, and there wasn't much room to take care of a teenager full time on top of that. And while Harry didn't know enough about her friends outside of Gryffindor to make a good judgement call on them and their offers, he didn't think Lily would accept help from them anyway. It seemed, bleakly, that her only solution was an orphanage. And Harry immediately grimaced more intensely at those. He'd seen a few early memories of Voldemort in an orphanage, and though the experiences were brief, he knew instantly he'd rather go there himself than let his mother end up there. But where else could she go? There was little else…
Unless…
"Come stay with us," Harry said, right before the thought was even fully formed in his own head. Lily turned her head to him in shock.
"Come again?" she asked.
"You don't have to decide now. You can take a few days, think it over. But if you want, you can come and stay with us, the Potters I mean," he repeated, surprising himself even at the conviction in his own voice at the statement. Yet, the moment he said it, he knew it felt right. True, James and Lily weren't together in that sense yet, but spending time in the same building for long like that could do much to help thaw the ice on Lily's part, if Harry could work on James' maturity. It would also allow him to spend more time with her, something he wouldn't say no to. And on top of that, if he or his parents could get her to consent to letting blood be taken and for her blood to be adapted into the wards, they might be configured so they could become like the wards at Privet Drive, and power up the protection again that stopped Voldemort from being able to physically harm him, or even power up the old protection that stopped anyone out to harm them from even setting foot on Potter ground.
Besides, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Ginny, and Luna were staying there full-time as well, and Neville, Remus, and Peter part-time. With a bit of shifting in the rooms, what was one more.
"We wouldn't mind," Harry explained. "Hermione, Ron, and most of the others that came with me from the continent are already staying there, too. My parents wouldn't mind. And you'll be protected there."
Lily's eyes glazed over a bit as she stared ahead, and he could see her mulling it over in her mind. He decided to try and press his luck a bit. "Besides, would you rather go to an orphanage than temporarily move in with a classmate until you're of age and willing to move out?"
Lily said nothing, looking down between her knees as she seemed to think on what he was suggesting. At last, to Harry's relief, she nodded.
"I suppose it could be worse," Lily admitted, hiccuping a bit at the end. "Alright, I… I think I'll come."
Harry let out a sigh in relief, and were it not for the fact the circumstances came about in such a horrible way he would've done a victory jig for his success.
"But can Severus come move in, too?" Lily added. "He's a friend, and also lived in Cokeworth. He needs a home too."
Harry nodded. If she'd asked it of him for the Severus Snape of his own time he would've objected vehemently. But this one, the one with appreciable wit and excellent skills in Potioneering and spell casting wasn't that bad. "I can't make any promises. He's from another house, after all, and he might object himself. But I'll put in a good word with my parents."
Lily let out a sigh of relief, and immediately gave him a fierce hug. He was caught off-guard for a moment by the suddenness and strength of it, but soon gingerly returned it.
"Thank you," she sobbed. "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou."
Harry hesitated for a moment. He wasn't sure whether she was thanking him for the fact he offered her a home or promised to try and get one for Severus Snape, but he didn't think right now was the best moment to ask.
"You're… welcome," he answered a bit uncertainly. The hug was going on for quite a long time now, far longer than should be normal for just friends. Before he could ask her to, though, Lily let go.
"I'll tell Severus later," Lily said. "You'll talk to your parents, right?"
Harry nodded awkwardly, still in a bit of a daze from the long hug. "Uh… Yeah, sure. I need to go for that anyway." He quickly made up an excuse to go. As much as she needed the comfort at the moment, he felt too uncomfortable with how clingy Lily was acting right now to stay here much longer. "My father will be busy dealing with the aftermath of the Fiendfyre, as… As well as the consequences burning down an entire muggle village will have on the Statute of Secrecy, and I'll need to catch him before he becomes too deeply entrenched in the work."
Lily nodded, and waved him off a bit. "You go on. I… I need to be alone for a few moments anyway."
Harry nodded, dropped her bag next to her, and he left the room of requirement, headed for Gryffindor tower at a light stroll. It was during supper right now, and after reading what had just happened, not to mention having his own mother casting spells at him like she wanted him dead, he had lost his appetite. Besides, he wasn't lying when he said he needed to call Charlus. While he was sure the man wouldn't deny him, he wouldn't exactly be happy to have two more children stay over at the Manor, especially with how many were already staying there on top of him, James, Si…
Harry paled. He had just invited Severus to stay at his own home. A home also inhabited by the boy's nemesis' James Potter and Sirius Black. Not to mention roughly four or five children who had dreadful memories of the man's future self. With at least the first three living under one roof it was going to be chaos, not to mention if Lily decided to retaliate on Severus' behalf. He rubbed his face, cursing his own Gryffindorish stupidity. God, he hadn't thought that one through.
"Knut for your thoughts?" a voice asked behind him, and he turned around. To his relief it was merely Amelia standing there, rather than a rule-abiding prefect or an inquisitive Marauder who'd badger him senseless until he told them everything.
"They're worth more than that," Harry retorted before letting out a sigh. "I made a stupid mistake."
"You're a Gryffindor, Harry. The other houses expect you to make mistakes," Amelia retorted teasingly, before smoothing her face over to a more sympathetic expression. "But seriously, what did you do?"
"You know of the burning of that muggle town, Cokeworth?" He asked.
"It's the gossip of the school already," Amelia confirmed. "Dad and Auntie are pissed it came within an inch of breaking the Statute. Luckily the Greengrass Lord and later on the Minister of Magic managed to reason it out with the Muggle Prime Minister and arrange the cover story it was a pair of forgotten bombs from the Muggle World War that had gone off and laid waste to most of the town, with the resulting fires igniting gas mains burning down the rest. The only reason it worked was because there were so few witnesses close enough to it to deny it, all of whom could be memory-charmed to believe that."
Harry nodded, ignoring for the moment the Prophet had said there were no survivors or close up witnesses at all due to the large scale of the fire. He wasn't a stranger to the fact that the newspaper loved to sensationalise things and liked putting the truth on a back burner. "Well, long story short, because of that two of my classmates have lost their families in that fire, and thinking it was a good idea because my brother has a crush on one of them, I invited them to live with the Potters, completely forgetting the fact that the other is so antagonistic with my brother that I might have to bury the body of one of them one week in."
Amelia's eyebrows rose. "You invited Evans and Snape to live with you? So soon after they lost their families? Bold, Harry. Very bold."
"Why is that bold?" Harry asked. "It's the right thing to do."
"True," Amelia admitted with a smirk. "But still, to invite one so smitten with you to live with you long-term… Not even my aunt would do that so permanently."
"Smitten?" Harry asked, confused. "Who's smitten?"
"You don't know?" Amelia asked, surprised. When Harry shook his head, she let out a loud sigh. "Ah, how I wished I never lost that naïveté to my aunt."
Harry's brain worked overtime. Severus couldn't be it, for he had his everlasting crush on Lily, and from what the Sirius and Remus of his of his own time had told, Lily never seemed particularly interested in anyone until his father matured, even if she went on a few dates. So…
"Have you never noticed how Lily always keeps trying to sit with you in classes as often as possible?" Amelia asked him. "Or how, despite barely going to any of the games and never any of the practices, she always is there in the crowd whenever you play Quidditch? Or how when you coincidentally work in the Library with her near the same table, she always sits so she can look at you inconspicuously?"
"What are you talking about?" Harry tried to deny. There was no way his mother had a crush on him. "She never-"
"Harry," Amelia interrupted him, shutting him up. "Face it, you're a physical copy of your admittedly handsome brother, only kinder, friendlier, better work ethic, better behaved, does much less questionable activities, and you are humbler than the average Hufflepuff. To be honest, half the upper year girls probably thought of asking you out. And maybe even a few guys, too."
Harry paled, as all her points sank in. Try as he might, all of the earlier points he couldn't actually deny: he was identical in looks to James, and those points had been attributed to him so many times by others in the Hogwarts of his own time even he couldn't possibly deny them. Well, aside from the dating part, but back then he had the bane of being the Boy-Who-Lived hanging over his head. But here, now…
Oh, God! My Mother fancies me.
He groaned. "Oh, bollocks."
Amelia laughed. "I get you were trying in your own way to set her up with James. His crush on her is known even to first year Hufflepuffs. I even think it's very sweet of you, to do that for your brother. But as long as you're around that isn't going to work."
He groaned, cursing Potter Luck, Fate, Murphy's law, and destiny a hundred times over. Of all the things that could happen when he time travelled in the past, of course the thing that actually happened was his mum wanting to date him. Oh, he would never live this down if the others learned of it.
Then, he recalled something Amelia said earlier, and smirked. "So you find me handsome and sweet, huh?"
This time it was Amelia's turn to be slightly embarrassed, as her cheeks tinged red slightly and she turned her head away. "Well, with that messy hair, and your muggle fashion sense whenever you're not in classes… You do have that roguish look that I like."
Harry blushed this time at the compliment, but still continued on, having too much fun to stop now. "Well, thanks for thinking so highly of me and my looks."
Amelia shook her head, amusement apparent of your own face. "You know, you truly have the mouth of a Potter. And I don't mean that your lips and cheeks resemble your father's, though at some angles they do. No, that smooth way with words around women, the creative curses and swear words I've heard so far, the wit used against those that vex you… Those really have a distinct Potter flavour to them," Amelia paused, then smirked again. "If Evans does end up with your brother, in fact, she'd fit in perfectly with her own wit."
"Thanks," Harry said, smiling even as he couldn't stop his blush from receding, even with his new emotional control granted by Occlumency. "But that flavour you spoke of… With all those compliments, I'd almost assume you wanted to taste it."
"Shush!" she said quickly, her own blush now so strong it dominated her cheeks and neck entirely. "It's too early for that, Harry."
Harry nodded, realising that she had a point. "Right. Getting to know one another better first," he smirked. "In lieu of the Hogsmeade meet-up we missed, shall we sit together in the kitchens tomorrow at supper? The House-elves won't mind, and since the ministry is still reviewing their security measures for Hogsmeade we won't know when the next weekend will be."
Amelia nodded. "Sure. Talk a bit over a good bit of food. A good start."
"Great," Harry smiled, before it dropped. "I gotta go, though. I haven't told Ch- my father yet about the plan for Lily and Severus yet, so I need to tell them now rather than spring it as a late surprise."
Amelia rose her eyebrows again. "Wow! Even doing this without informing your father? That's true courage."
"More like reckless and impulsive stupidity," Harry admitted, silently a bit relieved Amelia hadn't noticed his slip-up with how he addressed Charlus. That would be a mess to explain and he wanted to avoid that. "Hence why I unfortunately have to go, or the following punishment for it might be worse for delaying."
Amelia nodded in sympathy. "Good luck. You'll need it."
Harry nodded, and made his way back to the common room. Everyone else was still at supper, so it would be abandoned. A perfect time for a call to Charlus. Soon he was at the portrait of the Fat Lady. He stopped mere instants from uttering the password when he heard a very loud "WHAT?!" echo throughout the halls. Well, at least Severus has been informed of the proposal. He said the password and stepped into the common room, heading for the bowl of Floo Powder above the mantle and taking a pinch. While actual physical crossovers between fireplaces were blocked in Hogwarts except for professor's rooms and offices, the fires in the dorm rooms did allow for simple calls to others. Harry was told it was to appease influential members in the Wizengamot and allow easier contact between them and their children. Harry, though, suspected it was so Death Eaters could relay orders or dissatisfaction to their children in the school more easily than letters, which could in turn be easily intercepted.
Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for the following conversation, he grabbed a pinch, tossed it in, and called Potter Manor.
He half hoped the Potters wouldn't be home due to a meeting with the Great Alliance, or out dealing with the aftermath and backlash of the massive Fiendfyre, but that hope was dashed when Charlus himself answered immediately, his head appearing in the fireplace. "This is Potter Manor, who- Oh, hey Harry."
"Hey, Dad," Charlus startled, and then smiled at being addressed like that by Harry, before frowning at Harry's tone and expression. "What's wrong?"
"I made a rash mistake," Harry admitted. "Can you get Mum and Fleamont? It'll affect them, too."
"They're in the room with me," Charlus explained, his frown deepening at the implication that it was severe enough that it needed their involvement. "The fireplace might be too small to hold their heads, but they can hear you and you can hear them when they talk. Now, what did you do? Get a girl pregnant?"
"What?" Harry asked, horrified they considered that he would. "No!"
"Get someone killed?" Fleamont called from the background, though it sounded more like a joke to him than something serious.
"No," Harry persisted. "Nothing that grave. But it does involve our living situation."
"You didn't enter a marriage contract by accident, did you?" Fleamont asked. Charlus actually turned his head in the fireplace to glare at where Fleamont sat in the room, somewhere behind and on the left of Charlus. "What?" Fleamont asked, sounding indignant. "You know it can happen. Remember Mathias Vogel? OUCH! Charlus, restrain your wife!"
"I'd like to think my children know better than that, thank you very much, and you deserve everything she'll do to you," Charlus growled out, before turning his head back to Harry. "Now, since we eliminated the worst of possibilities, tell me what's wrong."
Harry sighed. "Well, long story short: You know of the muggle town that was burned down?" At Charlus' pained nod, Harry continued. "The families of two students lived there, and as far as I know they have nowhere else to go. I… kinda invited them to come live with us."
Charlus looked surprised for a moment, before letting out a weary sigh and rubbing his face, his hands briefly appearing in the flames. "Harry, I swear, the situations you get into are enough to drive the average adult into an alcohol addiction. What on Godric's Sword possessed you to do something like that without consulting us?"
"Harry." This time it was Dorea. "If it's up to me, I'm fine with taking in one or two of your friends from school. But you can't just drop things like at on us at the drop of a hat. The Manor's already quite full with Fleamont, Euphemia, Sirius, and your other friends. Where do you put the limit?"
"There's more to it," Harry admitted, quieting them. "One of them… Is my mother."
Charlus' face immediately cleared. "Oh."
"I take it I can't mess with future in-laws any longer?" Fleamont asked, although he no longer sounded as chipper.
"Fleamont," Dorea growled out, effectively silencing Harry's grand-uncle (though Harry supposed that if he was to see Charlus and Dorea as his actual parents, Fleamont was his actual uncle).
"I didn't think it through that far when I invited her," Harry admitted. "I only thought of the advantages: her and James getting together sooner, the chance to spend more time with her, and…" He trailed off, realising he hadn't discussed this part with his parents yet. "We might be able to reactivate the protections from before."
"Protections?" Fleamont asked curiously. Harry nodded, even if he doubted the man could see it.
"On her…" He paused, remembering there might be portraits in earshot that could relay this to Dumbledore." You-know, she activated an old blood protection, that ensured he couldn't get to my residence or harm me magically, or even touch me physically, so long as I was there with a blood relative for a few weeks. And while he could hold me under the Cruciatus back at the Manor, when he tried to backhand me with his hand it got burned."
"The Blood-protection worked again, huh?" Charlus mused, his hand rubbing his jaw in thought. "Interesting. I'll have to ask Seraphina and Cassiopeia to take a look at the wards to see if we can configure them so that Lily and Harry's presence there charges that protection up again, but it'll likely need quite some blood from her, or-"
"Brother, you're digressing," Fleamont gently chided.
"Right, sorry," Charlus apologised, before turning to look at Harry again. "That's smart thinking of you. But next time, discuss it with us before making any promises or offers. And simply inviting your mother shouldn't have you as nervous."
Harry smiled knowingly, glad he and his father knew one another well enough already that they could tell that much. "Heard it in my voice didn't you?" He asked rhetorically, before letting out a sigh. "My offer was initially only to Lily, but she would only come if the other student who lost his family could come to… And that student is Severus Snape."
"Oh, bollocks," Charlus immediately cursed. "Dorea, hide the bottles, this'll really drive me to alcoholism otherwise."
"Why?" Fleamont asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"
"Let me put it this way," Dorea said, and Harry winced as he practically heard the grimace in her voice. "According to Minerva, the relationship between James and Severus is just as bad as the one between Charlus and Arcturus for their first six years at Hogwarts, only neither has a sister the other can fall in love with."
"Oh," Fleamont simply said. "Should I grab the popcorn or a Riot Shield? Wait, Dorea, put the wand doOWOWOWOWOWOWOW! BLOODY HELL, THAT HURT, WOMAN!"
"One more lame joke about this, and that spell'll hit your 'family jewels', Fleamont," Dorea threatened. "Capiche?"
"Si, si," Fleamont said, his voice much more subdued. "Mi compehendre."
"Your Spanish is still terrible, if that was meant to be Spanish at all," Charlus informed his brother. "Oh, this makes for a right mess."
"For what it's worth," Harry sheepishly added. "I only said I would put a good word in for him, not that I would actually succeed."
"Well, what's the good word then?" Fleamont asked. "For he might be a skilled Potioneer, but I don't want duels to the death in the family Manor every other day of the week simply because James can't hold his tongue."
Harry blanched, realising this was where he had to convince his parents to take Severus in as well. They really weren't looking forward to resolving every little dispute between him and James. He cleared his throat, before starting to speak. "In contrast to how he's be expected to be later, he's been an excellent Potions tutor to me so far, taking the time to explain the things I don't get and actually giving handy tips on how to improve my potions. He's been nice to me, and…" Here Harry paused, not realising it this was this way before, but here it was. "And I consider him a friend. Not a particularly good one, but still a friend."
"Besides," he added. "He's a highly talented Potioneer, capable of challenging most adult Potion Masters even now. If we don't take him in, the chances are the wrong people in Slytherin could. You said yourselves his mother was at least a good acquaintance of the Malfoys, and despite hanging out with Regulus Black and Cyrus Greengrass, he also willingly spends much time with future Death Eaters like Wilkes and Avery. Without us, they might take him in, and influence him so he's still driven into Voldemort's arms."
Charlus was silent, his face contemplative as he thought Harry's points over. "Valid points," he admitted. "You're right. We have to do something, or others will manipulate him in his grief-minded state and still drive him in Voldemort's arms. But having him at Potter Manor will be… challenging, considering how he is around James."
"I'll take him in," Fleamont volunteered, and Charlus turned his head again in surprise. "The cottage in Godric's Hollow, while well-maintained, hasn't been used in a while. Euphemia and I could briefly move in there and be his guardians until he's of age and wants to move out, and from there he'll be able to Floo over every other day to spend time with Harry or Lily, so he has people his own age to act with."
"What of Sleekeazy?" Charlus asked. "You can't just drop a multi-million galleon company like that just for him."
"I've been training a protege for a while now, who's overseen the business alongside Hyperion while I've been here," Fleamont admitted. "Catharine Kowalski-Goldstein, a bright and intelligent girl with a good business acumen, not to mention an instinctive Legilimens from her mother's side. During the summers and other holidays I can still be over and be with you all, and let her have control of the company for the summer on a trial basis, in preparation for when I eventually retire so she can take over. And once summer's past, I Floo over there for a few months again to ensure I'm not making a mistake in trusting her with this much already. If she can handle it, I can stay here full time afterwards while she handles things until Severus is of age."
"And if she can't?" Dorea asked. "I know you trust her, and I'd like to too, but given I'm still a Black, I feel inclined to play the devil's advocate."
Fleamont sighed. "Worse comes to worst, he'll either have to stay with you guys after all, or we'll have to think of something else."
"We'll deal with that if it comes up. I'll Floo Minerva and Horace to talk about taking those students in for the holidays. For now, let's focus on other matters," Charlus interrupted them before they could go down that melancholy road, and reset them on immediate and more concerning matters, something Harry was thankful for. As much as he might have come to resent him when he'd been older, the younger one wasn't the bitter professor yet, and Harry didn't want to think of the worst-case scenarios that could happen if they couldn't take care of Severus (as unlikely as it was, given the sheer number of families in the Great Alliance that might want to take him in).
"We got the Locket you gave Dorea, by the way," Charlus said. "It befouls the atmosphere of anyone in close proximity,"
"Like any powerful Cursed Item does," Dorea added from the background.
"But beyond that it initially appears harmless," Charlus continued despite the interruption from his wife. "We're still trying to figure out what its enchantments and compulsions will do exactly, but from initial diagnostic charms performed on it we do know that it used to be an incredibly powerful talisman, one capable of protecting its wearer from even the strongest of mental attacks, be it Legilimency, Imperius, Veritaserum, Insani- whatever the bastard used to control Amelia: all means to subvert control of the mind will be futile against whoever wears it. And in spite of what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has twisted it into, those initial enchantments of the Talisman still seem active."
"We were thinking, if we could undo the curses and such," Fleamont added from the background. "That it might one day be a powerful tool in your arsenal, and keep that meddlesome coot with too many names and Lemon Drops from trying to read your mind."
Harry nodded in agreement. Having such a talisman would be very useful. It might allow him to focus his Occlumency on the spell-bending from the book while not worrying about any attacks on his mind. But for now, with the curses they said might be on it, they wouldn't give it to him.
"That would be nice," Harry agreed. "Having my mind to myself would be a nice change of pace, considering what I've lived with most of my life." He was sure the others got the double meaning about the Horcrux in his head. "How long before that's done?"
"Quite a while, I'm afraid," Charlus said with an unfortunate grimace. "Identifying all the curses and jinxes alone could take weeks, and months if we're going to remove all of them, without affecting the Locket's effectiveness."
Harry sighed in disappointment, but wasn't all that surprised. While such a thing would be useful, having a locket that rendered him immune to all forms of mental assault fall into his lap wasn't just going to happen. That only happened in fiction.
"Still," Fleamont added in the background. "Better you know it's in the works and remain hopeful it's finished soon than… Well, being the usual broody Potter. I've heard from my wife it tends to put off the ladi- OOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!"
"I didn't even see what one she used and I know you deserved that one, brother," Charlus said "Or do we need to repeat the Mousehound incident?"
"NOT ON YOUR BLOODY LIFE!" Fleamont yelled so loudly Harry was sure half the tower heard. "BY ALL THAT IS HOLY AND SACRED ON THIS MERLIN-FORSAKEN PLANET NEVER SUBJECT ME TO THAT TORTURE AGAIN, DOREA URSULA BLACK! ARE YOU TRYING TO PUT ME OFF FROM GIVING YOU NEPHEWS AND NIECES?!"
"Serves you right," Dorea retorted, and Harry could practically hear the smug smile she wore. "I did warn you I'd aim for family jewels. And as my brothers and sister undoubtedly taught you at Hogwarts, Blacks make good of their threats."
"Speaking of the devil…" A new voice entered. Charlus startled, briefly withdrawing his head from the fire before returning barely a second later.
"I gotta go, Harry. A meeting I can't miss is about to start. Anything else I need to know?"
"Nothing urgently," Harry assured, though he was a bit saddened Charlus had to go away so soon before they had a chance to just talk. "Go on, we'll catch up later."
Charlus nodded. "Be careful," he warned, and the fire returned to its normal orange state before Harry could ask for clarification.
Well, at least the problem with Lily and Severus was mostly dealt with. Sure, Charlus and the others still had to talk with the respective heads of houses, but both seemed very amiable with the Potters, judging by their reaction to Harry and James, so there shouldn't be much trouble on that front.
Now, to tell Ron, Neville, James, and the others of the new living arrangements…
He sighed, and settled to wait. He'd rather have that conversation here in the privacy of the dorm than out in the Great Hall or even the Common Room. So, he simply set the original copy he'd nicked from Peter back on his bed, and settled to wait, reading even more from the Peverell Tome to pass the time.
Clearly the conversation with Charlus and the confrontation with Lily lasted longer than he'd thought, for he didn't have to wait long. He heard the loud voices of the Marauders coming up the stairs. The door opened, and James, Sirius, and Remus led all the others boys into the dorm. They all stopped when they saw Harry.
"Harry," James said, concern evident in his tone as Peter broke off and pocketed the map before one of the others could swipe it. "What happened when you ran off?"
Harry sighed, and gestured for them to sit down, which they all did. Even Moliere gently shoved some of the dirt collection gently aside so he could sit. "Well, long story short, I have really good news and really bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"
"Good news first!" Sirius immediately called before any of the others could suggest anything else. "It's better to have a good start and a terrible ending. That's what I always say."
"No wonder you're doing so terrible for OWL preparations despite your terrific first few years," Joshua called, earning good-natured chuckles and an indignant mock-offended look. Harry smiled as well, before sighing again, mentally preparing for the rant that came with inviting Snape to live with them.
"Well, you guys know of the Fiendfyre at Cokeworth by now, right?" Nods all around. "Well, two students lost all of their families in that fire, and I… accidentally talked them and Charlus into having them come live with us. Well, one with us and one with Fleamont in the Godric's Hollow cottage." More nods, although they were tentative, and Neville and Joshua had worried looks. "The good news… The first of them is Lily."
There was a pause, as everyone looked surprised, although he caught a flash of understanding across Ron's face. That was all he caught before someone crashed into him and he fell backwards onto the bed, knocking the Peverell tome off the bed and onto the ground.
"Harry, you small squirt, you just became my favourite brother!" James laughed, before racing onto his feet and running to a grinning Sirius. "You hear that, Siri?! Lily's coming to live with me!"
Harry had to smile at the genuine joy on his father's face as he happily bounced around the room saying that to everyone's face. True, Lily and James had a long way to go before even becoming friends, much less the loving husband and wife duo from the old timeline everyone praised them to be. But if he could temper down James' immaturity, then combined with this it would go a long way.
"Hah, you hear that Remmie?! I told you Lils would come with me eventually!" James laughed happily, finally settling with crashing into a grinning Remus. Remus laughed, before roughly shoving James off of him, promptly letting the marauder crash onto the floor.
"Well, hold your horses, guys," Joshua said, who despite an earlier smile, still held a skeptical expression. "Harry did say there was bad news."
Most of the others immediately sobered up and looked at Harry again, though James still had a Cheshire grin on his face. Harry nodded.
"Yes," he paused, sighing. "The other. The bad news bit, the one going to live with Fleamont… is Snape."
When he realised the others and Snape were going to live in relative close proximity together, or at least see one another far more regularly, he knew this would get extreme reactions. Ron and Hermione hated him for his treatment of Harry, despite Hermione's respect for him as a professor, and Ginny hated him too to a slightly lesser extent. Neville, on the other hand, feared him for his constant criticism of his potions and the extremely abusive and derogative commentary in the original timeline, to the point Severus Snape became Neville's Boggart despite seeing his parents being tortured into insanity at the age of one by the most dangerous and psychotic witch of the century (it had mellowed somewhat due to the more tolerant behaviour of the teenage Severus, but it was still there). And James and Sirius hated him for the ongoing rivalry between them for being in different houses and James and Severus' shared interest in Lily, the former of which was fuelled to more extremes now that the Marauders knew how he would treat Harry simply for being James' son. Combine all these, and getting the reactions in the same room, and he was not expecting any happy dances or jigs.
He was not disappointed.
"WHAT!" Sirius shouted in shock, Peter's face silently mirroring Sirius' own as his jaw dropped, as Ron and Neville's expressions turned as if Harry had just announced he'd considered becoming a Death Eater. Joshua muttered a simple "oh boy," under his breath while Vinnie, Remus, and Moliere looked surprised. To Harry's own surprise James was reacting quite well, his face showing he was rather conflicted, likely weighing up the pros of having Lily nearby for his remaining Hogwarts years versus the cons of having Severus along for the package.
"Are you insane, Harry?" Neville asked. "Inviting Snape to come live with us?! After all that he's done to James?"
"And what he will-" Ron tried to continue, but Remus, having an amazing bit of foresight, stomped on Ron's foot before Ron could blurt out about Harry's animosity with the future Snape.
"Before you continue," Harry interrupted them pointedly before the rant could continue. "I didn't invite him myself. I invited Lily, and she said she'd only come along if we could also make arrangements for him as well." Well, technically that was a lie as Lily had only asked, rather than demanded, if Harry could take Severus in, but he wasn't about to give the Marauders any more footing than they needed to.
"Ah, bollocks," Remus moaned, rubbing his face with his hand.
"Harry," Sirius said, forcing his tone to stay calm and even, though his expression and heavy breathing still betrayed his dismay and anger at the prospect of even more prolonged contact with his schoolyard nemesis. "Snape is a Death Eater in all but name. Look at who he associates with: Bradford Wilkes, Gregory Mulciber, Blake Avery, my brother, and how close he was with an awful lot of my relatives like Bellatrix and Narcissa in previous years, as well as the Carrow Twins. And let's not forget how he knows more about the Dark Arts than half the school and staff, including Clarke. I'm telling you Harry, letting him even within a mile of our home is a terrible idea."
"Come on, Sirius," Remus groaned. "He's also very good friends with Cyrus, Roxanne, and Stephen, and you know from experience they're not that bad. Neither is your brother, or Gregory's older brother Graham, for that matter. True, he's quite despicable to you and James on occasion, but you two give as good as you get. Besides, Lily sees something in him she can trust."
"Oh, forget that childhood friendship shite," Sirius spat, turning on Remus. "He's a child psychopath waiting to be unleashed. And let's not forget Hogsmeade-"
"What happened at Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, interrupting the tirade.
At once, Sirius lost most of his anger and looked a bit sheepish. "We never informed you, did we?"
"That attack where they kidnapped you," Ron explained when for a moment it appeared the others wouldn't. "Luna was flung from the cart, but was conscious and mostly unscathed. She was stunned before she could help, and from the angle it appeared only Slytherins could have done it… Including Snape and those you had lunch with."
Harry frowned. "Okay. I admit it looks suspicious. But if Severus wanted to kidnap me, he could've arranged it long before then with one of the potions tutoring sessions. And from what I've seen of them at lunch and the DA so far, the others are alright, too."
"Really, Harry," Peter argued, speaking up for the first time. "Think about this. What if they're right, and he's the one that did it? Do you really think having him in your home would be the right idea?"
"Come on, guys. Back us up here," Sirius said, encouraged by the support Peter gave him. "Please, help me break through this tosser's skull and talk him out of this."
"Nuh huh," Joshua immediately said, holding his hands up in surrender and backing off. Vinnie and Moliere also shuffled backwards. "I'm staying out of this. This is your family dispute, not mine."
Sirius pouted in disappointment, before turning to his immediate left, where Neville stood. Neville, though, shrugged. "Look, I dislike the guy as much as you do, Sirius. Believe me, he creeps me out. But I trust Harry more than I hate him. And if he says it's ok, I'll believe him."
"Me too," Ron said. "He might be a right git, but I don't think we should just turn him away, you know? What would Hermione say? Or Lady Potter?"
Sirius scowled, realising Ron had a point. "Alright, point. We want neither on our necks. But really, are Wormie and I the only ones thinking this is a bad idea?"
"No, I'm with you two," Remus said. At Harry and Ron's surprised looks, he elaborated. "I might agree with you guys that Severus isn't the evil guy Sirius has him made out to be. But with my furry problem and his inquisitiveness… it's a miracle he hasn't found out already. It'll be an outright disaster waiting to happen every time I come over."
Sirius nodded in agreement, before they all turned to the only one that hadn't made his opinion on the matter of Severus becoming a Potter ward known. A fact Harry was surprised by, considering the history between the two. James still looked very conflicted.
Upon realising he was now the one expected to answer and break the unofficial tie-breaker (Joshua, Moliere, and Vinnie keeping out, with the Marauders on one side and the Time travellers on the other), he looked up and spoke. "As much as I hate to say this… I agree with Harry. Snape should come along."
"WHAT?!" Sirius yelled. "You can't be-"
"No, I'm not you, Sirius. I'm much better looking," James joked, before returning to the matter at hand. "It's not because I like the guy suddenly. Every student here in Hogwarts can attest to that. But he has nowhere else to go but Death Eater families, and I'd rather have someone like him stay away from them than fall even more deeply into their influence."
"Oh, get off your high and mighty throne, Prongs," Sirius scowled. "You're just agreeing to take him in because Evans won't come live with you otherwise."
"Partly true," James admitted unashamedly. "But he isn't staying at the Manor with us. He's staying with Uncle Fleamont at Godric's Hollow. And if having him over a few times a week means Lily gets to live with me in the Manor for the rest of our Hogwarts times, I can accept that."
"But-"
"Besides, if you are right, Sirius, and he is a Death Eater, then all the more reason to take him in," James interrupted again. "Remember that muggle saying Dad picked up in the Caucasus when fighting against Grindelwald's Reapers and Christopher Gyst?"
"Oh for Godric's sake," Sirius muttered under his breath as he walked away, obviously having heard this many times before.
"Keep your friends close-"
"And your enemies closer," the Marauders and Vinnie all finished together.
"If he's a Death Eater, it'll be easier to keep an eye on him if he's living with one of the Rascals. No, either if you believe he's more than an annoying pest or a Dark Wizard waiting to happen, the best course from here on is to agree with Harry and Charlus, and take them both in."
Sirius grumbled and walked over to his bed, giving his trunk a kick as he did. Harry sighed, glad that issue was at least tabled, if not resolved, and turned back to the Peverell Tome, picking it up gingerly and closing it. His gaze passed over Remus as he did so.
Then he got an idea, and smirked. Knowing what he did about where Remus had been, the Werewolf's reaction would be hilariou.
"Oi, Remus," he called a bit louder than necessary, getting the attention of everyone in the room. "Nice hickey for a first time."
Remus' eyes widened and he blushed as all of their dorm mates turned to him as he rubbed his neck. "Awww, man"
"Just kidding," Harry grinned, and the Marauders turned in surprise before grinning at Harry's prank. "Thank you for confirming my suspicions, though."
The others laughed quite hard at that, and thus the Death Stare Remus gave him that promised unrelenting retribution wasn't as effective. Harry noticed the twitch at the corner of his mouth, though, and winked, congratulating his friend on a well-spent afternoon and supper.
Well, that's that. Next Chapter: Locket investigation, two sisters reconcile, first class with Clarke, and Lily meets the Potters
Please, also check my promised side story: Through the Looking Glass
Adios,
Lucian Valerious
