A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Harry Potter.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.
-So there is some stuff in this chapter that comes from things
mentioned in chapters 23 & 24. Also, the most recent chapter
of 'Extras for Consort Tournament' expands on the story that
is behind the end of this chapter. So you should refresh your
memory if you want to understand what's going on.
-I am laying groundwork for future chapters in this chapter
and already have 1,300 words for next chapter written. So I
am excited to get to that! Soon we'll get more Voldy/Harry
moments. Especially since what I imagined, will definitely
happen next chapter!
Severus Snape stared down at the box on the table in front of him. It was not the first box and it would not be the last, he was certain. When word got out that his birthday was coming up, many people, in an effort to thank him possibly, for his work in making a cure for the pandemic, had decided to send him gifts.
This one was from Harry Potter. Severus had already received a gift from Lily and had enjoyed adding 'West Side Story' to his collection of records. He hadn't expected to get a gift form any other Potters though.
He did not know what the youngest Potter would be sending him, but he braced himself. He at least knew that the teen wasn't overly fond of pranks and that it wouldn't be something horrible at least.
No, it was not horrible at all.
It was just a large stack of objects that the note inside called 'cassette tapes', and a black 'Walkman' that he was to put them in. And there were several packages of 'batteries' that would be used to 'power' the Walkman and had to be changed regularly. Then there was the address of a place in London, near The Leaky Cauldron, where he could acquire more batteries when he used them all. Finally, a pair of black 'headphones' for him to listen to the music privately.
Electronics were said not to work at Hogwarts. That was a misconception. One could not watch an airing television programme for example, because the signals involved would not reach through the wards around Hogwarts. One could watch a videotape however because the tape already existed and had been pre-recorded. Most magicals didn't care enough about not being able to use Muggle items though, so rarely did anyone experiment with electronics.
The 'tapes' were all large collections of famous musicals from over the years, and he easily spotted some of his favourites. How Harry Potter even knew Severus liked musicals, he would never know.
He was secretly grateful however, and would send him a stiff thank you note in response once he learned how to work the 'Walkman'.
Albus Dumbledore stared out at the Black Lake, contemplating the movements of the universe and how short life really was. Because recently he'd been made very aware of how little time had actually passed, despite how many years he'd managed to accumulate himself. How small his place in the grand scheme things actually was.
Compared to Nicolas and Perenelle, Albus was naught but a child. He'd done much and nothing in equal measure for years. Sometimes it seemed as if his presence did in no way affect anything.
"Why are you moping, old man?"
Albus sighed, though not in frustration or sadness. Simply in resignation. "My boy, when you reach my age, and you look back on your life, I hope you can honestly say that you have few regrets and that you've enjoyed your life thus far."
Tom stopped at his side, not looking at him, but also staring out at the lake. "Why is a nostalgia-filled, speech of doom necessary for you to impart this advice onto my poor shoulders?"
"Everything ends eventually, Tom. I don't want you looking back and being unhappy with your memories. Not much is worse than being over a century old and knowing how futile your actions have been in the end."
Finally, Albus' former student turned to look at him. "If I cared, I would say that you are making me concerned. I am however, of sound mind and body, so I can confidently say that I don't care. But why are you being so morose? It's worrying Minerva something dreadful."
On matters of the heart, Tom was a poor liar. Albus hid a smile and removed a small letter from the right pocket of his robes. It was black, as was customary when receiving the invitation to a dead person's Will Reading.
Tom said nothing in response, but he did hum for a few seconds.
"Tom, don't let life pass you by. You have an opportunity here, and I don't want you to waste it. Whether you plan to remain on this Earth forever or not doesn't matter. It's how you live those years that you linger, that matter the most. Make them count."
"Stop it with the dramatic doom and gloom," the younger wizard groused, surely more moody than he was in his teen years. "It's far below your usual attitude." He then turned to leave, casting one glance over his left shoulder to add, "I should think it was obvious that we've left our own mark on the world in our own ways. Some not as grandiose as others, but still important all the same. Not everything needs to be attention-getting to be of import."
And then he was gone, striding across the snow-covered grounds without stopping once to look back.
Tom had changed quite a lot from when he was younger. It just showed that time affected everyone in some way or another. And that experience was either an excellent or unforgiving tutor. And sometimes it was both at once.
A low cry from above caught his attention, and he welcomed Fawkes with a smile. "Old friend, it seems as if the circle might break sometime soon."
Fawkes' beady black eyes teared up slightly, and Albus tutted. "No need to be so bleak. Your circle will remain strong and thriving, but mine is not meant for much more. Even when a chance at more presents itself soon. It is nearly finished."
The low crooning of the Phoenix filled the space between them long into the evening. The darkness settling in quickly and the chill following immediately. And still, both remained, just watched the lake in companionable silence.
In time, all things would end.
Wizarding Legend Dies Shy of 700!
The famous Alchemist, Nicolas Flamel, and his wife Perenelle, have finally passed on.
Their last press statement concluded that both were making arrangements for their
final days. The couple decided that they wished to part this life together, and ceased
the continual use of the legendary Philosopher's Stone. The only one to have ever
been created, and the secrets of its make will remain obscure upon Flamel's request.
The Flamel joint Will was activated on 24 November, and the news of their deaths was
withheld by their account manager - upon their request - until a Will Reading could
be scheduled. The Will Reading is set for 19 January upon the new year, and will take
place in Gringotts' France Branch.
Nicolas Flamel's final statement to us, passed on to our knowledge through his account
manager, Ragnarok, are, 'Le temps est un grand maître, dit-on; le malheur est
qu'il soit un maître inhumain qui tue ses élèves.' -Louis Hector Berlioz[notable
squib composer].(Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately, it kills all of its pupils.)
Perhaps we should take this as a warning? Maybe it is a bit of advice? Whatever Mr.
Flamel was saying, we should take it to heart and understand that from a man as
wizened as he, all words bear signifigance.
Lord Flamel's dear friend Albus Dumbledore, is expected to attend the Will Reading in
the upcoming week. Mr. Dumbledore was not available for comment, but we know his
integrity would never allow him to dishonour his friend's memory by not appearing at
his Will Reading.
More will be revealed in the coming days. Please stay subscribed to learn more about
our most influential magicals and their actions!
Garrison Bespoke,
Special Correspondent to the Daily Prophet.
"I know I said something about them wanting to stop the whole, 'living forever' thing, but I honestly didn't think it would happen this soon," said Harry as he placed the paper down. Voldemort, who had been listening to him read the article aloud, looked contemplative. They were in the man's office. Harry had stopped by for lunch because life was boring and he wanted to see Voldemort. The Dark Lord had gladly welcomed his company and handed him that morning's issue of the Daily Prophet where Flamel's face resided, eyes blinking slowly with disinterest.
Voldemort had obviously taken the news differently compared to the rest of the magical world. Sure, it had been revealed that they planned to go to rest, but it was still a shock to hear that they actually did it."I must confess that I do not understand their decision. Why would they want to die? We know nothing of death and what lies beyond that point, so why would anyone want to die?"
Oh, yeah, Voldemort was known to be immortal. He was all-powerful and had made a couple Horcruxes to keep himself around if anything unfortunate should happen. He wasn't all too fond of dying, and had literally searched high and low for years to find a way to avoid death if at all possible. WWI helped foster that fear. So of course someone who was terrified of dying, especially with how he grew up, would not get why someone would want to stop living. And maybe many other people shared equal confusion but for different reasons.
He took a deep breath, considering his words carefully since it was a pretty controversial subject. "Many times, the people who are suicidal, don't want to actually die. Usually, these people are experiencing either intense suffering or banality. And sometimes it seems as if there is no real reason to stay around. Often will a suicidal person just want whatever is going wrong, to stop. If they are in pain, they won't be if they are dead. If life is boring, life after death won't be. If they're lonely, dying would reunite them with their loved ones or end the loneliness supposedly. So many reasons that we can't really understand unless we are at that point ourselves or have been in their shoes personally. Heaven is supposed to be better than here after all, and perhaps some people think that all problems cease once they reach the pearly gates of what lies beyond our world?"
Unfortunately, Voldemort didn't seem in any way appeased. He just looked all the more confused. Harry couldn't blame him. He spent years avoiding the topic and probably didn't think on it often.
Harry shoved the paper aside so he could lean on the desk between them. Voldemort met his gaze head on. "Think of it. A starving child living on the streets is always turned away from homes and help. They have nowhere to go, and nothing to live on, and they are suffering every day in just barely getting by. I'm pretty sure some would consider dying immediately much easier than surviving just to starve to death. Starving doesn't seem fun."
"It isn't," was Voldemort's quiet but firm reply. And Harry could feel a small pang in his chest at the far away look on the man's serpentine face. Of course Voldemort would have known to some extent what starvation felt like. It made Harry feel horrible and once again, he wished he could fix that. But he wasn't a god, and he wasn't as powerful as his fiance, so what could he do? There was no way to make that any better. He could only hope to redirect the man's thoughts and maybe one day Voldemort wouldn't remember the traumas of his early childhood.
"I suppose to an extent it makes sense. When there is no chance for self-preservation to actually benefit you. When there is nothing left. I have never felt so helpless that I wished to die though. I wanted to live even more. I wanted to survive whatever it was that was trying to kill me. Be they bombs, vampires, or even Dementors. I have always been stubborn and death has always seemed like a weakness. I could never wish to die." He didn't say anything about fearing death, not that he had to because Harry understood even if Voldemort didn't know he did.
Big words and full of minute arrogance. Usually, Harry would believe the man because he sounded so confident in himself, but then again, never say never and all that rot. Something could very well happen that would make Voldemort want to die. Harry didn't know what, but it could happen at any time. He just hoped that it actually didn't.
The Potter Heir said nothing though. He wasn't there to pick a fight or start an argument over difference in opinion. It was just supposed to be a day to spend together. The news of the Flamel deaths had been unexpected, but they couldn't let their peaceful day to turn sour just because they had opposing views on death. And he didn't want to force his thoughts and opinions down Voldemort's throat. That wasn't his aim and Voldemort wasn't doing it to him so it was only right to keep things cool between them.
Instead of keeping that line of conversation going, Harry shifted it to another subject. "I wonder how Dumbledore is handling the news of his friend's passing. They knew each other for a long time and didn't they write to one another while he was in Nurmengard?"
"Probably the same way he did Gellert's," said the Dark Lord, shifting his own attention to a different pile of papers that required immediately work. "Mourn and then spit annoying philosophical bits of wisdom to everyone he sees." He looked adorably disgruntled.
Harry grinned knowingly. "Did he do that to you?"
There was no reply, but Harry didn't need one to know that he'd been right. Voldemort was so easy to read sometimes. It was amusing. And it was kind of cute how easily frustrated the man got.
Draco Malfoy hadn't had much in his life for him to worry about. He was wealthy, he was of good social standing. He was attractive in the physical sense. Basically, everything for him was fine and couldn't get any better presently. Other than the recent pandemic they were still recovering from, he hadn't had any kind of scare personally. Until now.
The blond threw the Floo Powder into the fire and called out Potter's bloody business because he was having problems of the animal variety and didn't know what to do!
"Draco? Why are you calling me?" Harry Potter asked, looking tired and a bit bored.
"Potter! Something is wrong with one of my peafowl!" he blustered, feeling out of his depth and hating every moment of it. Asking for help was always an area of weakness for him. "She won't eat at feeding times and none of the House Elves know what to do. Dobby was the one to tell me and even brought her to the stables for a closer look away from her nosy broodmates, but I have no idea what could be wrong!"
The Potter Heir sighed. "Has she become violent or moody?"
"No. She's apparently being melancholy as of late, as Dobby stated. Not like her usual self. And since Shamiram is one of the more lively peahens, it's troublesome and could mean very bad things if it continues. Her attitude might affect the rest of the peafowl because they look up to her so much."
"Okay, give me a moment to get some things. Can you key me into the wards so I can come through?"
Draco did just that, quickly forcing his magic into the perimeter of the Malfoy Estate and forcing the wards to calm for a moment. It was good to be the Heir. "Come through when you're ready."
Seconds later, Harry Potter was stood in the middle of Malfoy Manor's third best drawing room. The one usually used to greet people upon entry, since they didn't want their best rooms to deal with all the soot and powder flying everywhere. It took too much time for the House Elves to clean and was simply easier on all of them. And normally seeing someone coming out of a fire wasn't a shocking thing in a wizarding household. Not since Floo Powder had been invented so very long ago.
This time however, it was not normal.
The Dark Lord's snake was wrapped very comfortably around Potter's shoulders. Like she belonged there. And she didn't even look at Draco when they entered, but he was still a little unnerved by her presence anyway. Because she was a deadly snake and would only listen to two people currently in existence! And she was known for going after House Elves and birds, and creatures that were unfortunately earthbound.
"Alraght, Malfoy. Lead us to your Shamiram. Nagini knows that she is not to eat anything living while here." As if agreeing, the serpent gave a low, and almost disinterested hiss.
That did not make him feel better at all! Still, for the sake of the peahen, Draco lead both toward the stables on the far side of the manor. Away from the direct view of any of the windows because it was 'unsightly' according to his father.
"Dobby was frantic with worry," he explained when they entered the wooden structure. "Came bumbling in and sputtering about it. It took three minutes before I could get a clear version of the story from him and by then I was already getting worked up as well. We've had Shamiram for almost two decades. She was hatched the same day I was born, and when I found out years later, I named her Shamiram after a history lesson on the well-known magicals in the Middle East."
Potter nodded slowly, showing that he was listening. "Magical fowl are said to last longer than normal fowl, which would explain why our delivery owls can be around so long. But for an albino peafowl, it's especially impressive that she's lasted so long considering the albinism the possessor has can cause them many health issues," said the Dark Lord's consort. "I hope I don't have to tell you to expect the very worst of this situation."
"I know. I don't like it though."
"Understandable, but if we expect the worst, than any news other than that will be infinitely better. At least in my personal opinion."
True. But Draco didn't like the thought of the peahen dying. She'd been one of the hens who had produced more than half of their current collection of peafowl! The oldest among the lot. She was the leader in a sense!
Shamiram was laid out on a wooden table. Her red eyes were closed and her body moved only slightly with her breathing. For a bird that usually was sprightly and loud, it was unnatural to see her so down.
"Can you call the House Elf in charge of tending to the peafowl?" asked Potter as he knelt down to be more at Shamiram's level.
Three Elves were summoned then, and Potter asked all matter of questions. Was the peahen walking strangely? Did she hit her head off of anything, or possibly fall? Has she been eating her normal meal choices or was there something new added to her diet? How was her relationship with the other peafowl?
It was revealed that one of the peacocks had disappeared many days back and that the body was found by one of the Elves. Said Elf burned the body as was custom in the Malfoy family, and informed Draco's father. The dead peacock also happened to be the father to Shamiram's last three clutches of eggs.
Potter and Shamiram exchanged slow and almost soothing sounds between each other. Draco frowned, wishing he could understand animals too, just so he didn't have to rely on a translator.
Potter sighed and nodded as he moved to stand. "She's depressed because her mate is gone."
"Animals get depressed?" was Draco's first question. He hadn't known that was a possibility, but if they could talk and even understand English like Nagini seemed to, then perhaps there was more to it than that. How peculiar. But also really unfortunate.
The Potter Heir nodded. "A lot of people tend to forget that humans are not the only beings with feelings. She's been crooning the word 'alone' over and over. Now we know why." He sighed though and shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. "We're very lucky it's just Depression over her lost mate. Some albino animals can become blind, Deaf, or experience neurological struggles because they were born without the ability to produce melanin. When dealing with an albino animal, this would be the first concern, so I'm glad we managed to suss the real issue."
"Potter, how do we get her feeling better now that we know why she's all... depressed?" Draco knew nothing of how to cure ailments of the mind or emotions. He'd never wanted for anything or really suffered. And Hermione's advice and information was still rather new to him, so how could he fully embrace her lessons when he had no personal experience?
The brunet pursed his lips. "There is no cure for Depression, Draco. It doesn't suddenly get better, but you can start by surrounding her with affection from her other broodmates. Give her her favourite food. Don't let her remain alone for too long, but also don't try to control her every move and forbid her from doing things. Eventually she will decide if she wants to move on or not. And if she doesn't, it wouldn't be right to take her decision from her. Should she disappear for a while, then you'll know that she made her choice. Pets often flee their homes to die in peace."
The blond sighed and turned to Dobby, who had been standing off for the past several minutes, wringing his ears and looking on with worry. "Dobby, could you please take Shamiram back to wherever it is you plucked her from? Watch her carefully and alert me if something goes wrong."
The Elf blinked in shock for a moment, before nodding. He hobbled on over to take the peahen into his arms. "Dobby is doing it now, Mater Draco." He and Shamiram were gone a second later. Draco had never said Draco's name before. It had always been 'young master'. He briefly wondered what had changed.
Potter grinned suddenly, once they were alone. "You know, I haven't seen you that panicked since you dropped a jar of spiders on yourself."
The Malfoy Heir gasped in outrage, hand flying over his heart in offense. "We swore that we would never speak of that horrible incident ever again, Potter! How dare you!" Sure, it was able to drive his attention off the worry for his darling peahen, but to use that as a distraction! The audacity!
"And don't forget that you can go to Hermione if you need someone to talk to, okay? I'm sure she'd love to make everything better."
The blond sniffed importantly. "That is none of your business and I will thank you to refrain from thinking about such things. Now how do you wish to be paid?"
Potter's grin got even wider if that was possible. "Tell Hermione about the spider incident and all will be considered paid in full."
Damn it!
Though... she did seem to like hearing about his childhood. So maybe it wouldn't be so terrible.
James shifted in his seat as his son sat down at the table where Lily proceeded to flit over to him, asking about his health and wanting to know if he needed anything specific. And Harry, as always, was gracious and told her that she didn't need to go to great lengths for him. He then proceeded to levitate the teapot over and poured himself some tea without even bothering to pretend to use his wand.
His boy was so strangely talented in an understated way. And it seemed like that because Harry didn't play up his skills. He was silent and passive, not caring what other people thought. In fact, James was certain that Harry didn't fully understand what it meant to be so strong. Then again, Harry didn't judge people based on their power or usefulness to him. At least it didn't appear that way, since he surrounded himself with animals and creatures and was in no way racist, classist, or fascist.
Sirius and Remus didn't linger on the usual display of magic, because both had news that they had been waiting to share with their godson for ages. Once everything had finally calmed down enough and Harry had free time, they had called everyone together for a family dinner because Harry was the last to know since he no longer lived at the cottage.
"Pup, we've got some news for you," Sirius began, though it was apparently unnecessary.
Harry glanced up from where he was stirring his tea, eyes sparkling as he asked point blank, "Are you both finally having a wedding?"
Everyone in the kitchen froze and James was hit with a sudden realisation. Harry had pretty much asked the very same question or at least a variation that was about Remus and Sirius getting hitched, ever since he was a little boy. How was it that Harry had seen it all before any of them did? And he'd literally been throwing the hints in their faces for a long time.
Moony got over his minute shock and laughed, appearing much younger once his face was full of joy. It made James realise just how old they all were. Not considerably old for a magical human, but still. All of them were just shy of their 40s already and unfortunately, Moony took to old age faster, but that had more to do with his monthly ailment than anything else. Remus severely needed to take advantage of what was left of his youth, so it was a good thing he and Sirius had finally decided to get married.
It meant possible children if either wanted any. And it meant that Remus would stop feeling guilty because he and Sirius lived in Grimmauld Place together. Everything was falling into place all around them. It was sad that it took a tragedy and a near-death experience for them to come to their senses though. But at least they were official now.
"Yes, pup. That's actually what's going on this time," Sirius agreed after several moments of laughter. "We wanted to let you know that we've begun planning already and wanted your input."
Harry sagged in his chair and grinned. "Good. It's been years and I have been waiting for this for a long time. Now we just have to plan out the invitations, decorations, location, and-" he gave an exaggerated shudder, "the entertainment."
Meaning music, dancing, and large crowds of people talking mostly. Things Harry wasn't all too fond of. How would he even handle the wedding when he would no doubt have to interact with people in order to keep up with his role of being the Heir to two Ancient and Noble Houses as well as the consort to Lord Slytherin?
Lily placed a large, steaming pan in the center of the table and when James went for the large knife, she smacked his hand away. "Youngest first, James." She turned to beam at their son. "Harry, we know how hard you've been working lately. Take as much as you want."
While Harry moved to cut himself some of the roast that smelled so wonderful and was literally covered in the best seasonings, Sirius and Remus began a low discussion on who to invite to their wedding. Lily tittered upon Sirius' suggestion of not sending the Lestranges an invite. "You and I both know that Bellatrix would show up whether she was invited or not. Best not to accidentally insult someone, Padfoot. She's been waiting for you to get married for far longer than Harry has after all."
Padfoot shuddered but nodded. "Point taken. And if she's offended when she arrives, it could spell trouble for all of us. But she is not getting a table close to our family!"
Remus patted his fiance's shoulder. "It's alright, Siri, we'll make sure she's given the proper seat with her husband and children."
"Don't be mean to Rigel though. He's a good kid," said Harry, after finally finishing with his own plate. "Though he might sit with the Weasleys since the twins and he are togetherish. Or as together as an underage wizard and two adults can be, really. In fact, I'll get Hermione to asked Bellatrix if Rigel can choose where to sit. Bellatrix likes Hermione a lot more than you'd think, and should Mione ask I'm sure she'd allow it."
Bellatrix Lestrange unnerved practically everyone who met her. The fact that she had taken a Muggleborn, one Hermione Granger even, under her wing, had been the most shocking piece of information for the Potter/Black/Lupin family. And she taught the teen more than spells. She taught her how to survive and even imparted extra lessons not even magic related upon her.
If she didn't have children, it would have appeared as if Granger was Bellatrix's chosen heiress. While her twin sons were odd themselves and generally quiet and capable of staring anyone down, they still didn't take after her more widely known eccentricities. And neither did the youngest.
Hermione Granger was an apprentice in every meaning of the word. As if she'd been training to take over Bellatrix's position. And the thought of her possibly having any sway with Lady Lestrange, was one of the things that made James acutely aware of how quickly time was passing by them all and how the younger generation was coming up to take their place so soon. And it made him fear slightly, that he and his generation would become obsolete. And with how quickly things were advancing, he also feared being forgotten.
It was also like a mirror to Harry and Voldemort. He shuddered for what felt like the millionth time that evening, after thinking of the fact that his son was betrothed by magic, to the Dark Lord of Magical Britain. Harry got away with things no one else would, James was certain. Because Voldemort favoured him long before Harry became his consort. Allowing him to be mouthy and rude, and merely smirking and combating any snark the boy threw his way. Like it was a common past-time between them.
How strange that two of the fiercest magicals alive in Europe, were emotionally attached to two teenagers that they had personally approached, to different extents. James spooned some steamed vegetable onto his plate and shook his head in bewilderment. What was the world coming to?
"Speaking of dear Hermione," Lily murmured as she sat at the table, finally ready to begin their supper, "how has she been doing with Draco Malfoy? I saw them together at the Yule Ball and they looked adorable!"
Sirius sat up with vivid interest, obviously wanting to know more about one of his cousins. Even if he tried to pretend that he didn't, Sirius actually cared about Narcissa Malfoy and her son. They were family no matter how questionable Narcissa's choice in life partner was. And Sirius, unlike most of his relatives, didn't believe in cutting out his emotions and ignoring his feelings. So he embraced the role of Lord Black a lot differently than any former Black Lords had.
Harry snorted. "She's finally met the parents and Draco was unabashedly proud to introduce her to them. I honestly think their relationship, whatever classification it falls under in their minds, is a good one. And it's hilarious to see Draco fumble one moment and then be completely cocky the next. Luna knows when he's going to pop the question but won't tell me when or where, so I have to be patient and probably have to put him in check some time soon, just so he knows where we stand over Hermione's continued happiness."
Draco Malfoy wanted to marry a Muggleborn. James had to wonder what dear old Lucius was thinking about the whole relationship. He'd pay any amount of Galleons to be able to see the man's face when young Draco revealed his full intent for his and Hermione's relationship.
"And what about dear Luna?" asked Lily. "She's coming closer to graduation. What does she plan on doing once she's free from homework and has been released into the world?"
Their son's face broke out into a wide grin. "Luna wants to be a Magizoologist. She's working really hard on attaining the proper grades necessary for a Mastery. She'll get it of course, and when she does, she going to join me as a partner. Two minds are better than one as always. Luna is excited to officially meet my clients and is already planning chances to travel and find other creatures."
That was good. None of them had really liked the idea of Harry being all alone in Diagon Alley, every day of every week. While he had animals with him and sometimes had visitors or customers, it hadn't made any of them feel any better. But they didn't want to seem clingy, so they supported his efforts and keep their worries to themselves.
It helped that Albus had visited Harry many times with Fawkes and had reported that he seemed in good health and high spirits. Oftentimes, he would have Voldemort's snake with him, and what Dumbledore managed to glean from their conversations, with what little he understood of Parseltongue, was that Nagini and Harry were good friends and both liked to tease Voldemort whether he was there or not. And gossip about him too. That revelation could have caused a heart attack. Thankfully, James was made of sterner stuff so he merely spit his tea out. But that was a story for another day.
Anyway, with Luna Lovegood around constantly, Harry would have more companionship with another human who wasn't Voldemort or a customer. James could be more thankful that the girl cared for animals and creatures as much as Harry did. The fact was a blessing.
"I hope everything works for the both of you," said Remus with a calm smile. "And if you ever need any help-"
"I know. You're all ready to lay down your time. Thanks."
After several moments of silence and eating, Sirius looked up suddenly and asked a question that had all of them freezing in place. "Are you bringing Voldemort to the wedding?"
Harry's jaw dropped. "I… hadn't considered that."
Voldemort going to a wedding of a Grey couple who mostly aligned with the Light side. Participating in the activities and dancing? Would wonders never cease?
The day of lovers. Not a day that Voldemort had ever considered beyond a minute annoyance. He'd never celebrated it personally because what would Tom Marvolo Riddle, the boy who eventually became Lord Voldemort, know of love in any form? Not even when he'd been at Hogwarts, did he participate in the holiday. And it had been more muted in his teen years than it was now. Back then there were more important things going on to think of holidays too much.
At Hogwarts, it was one of those annoying Muggle traditions that somehow managed to make it into their society and managed to stay relevant. And he had a feeling it did so by appealing to the romantics. Even some of his most hardened followers believed in true love and soulmates and all the mushy rubbish that Valentine's Day approved of. Because it was nice to think that somehow, some way, there was somebody out there who was perfect for you. Whom was meant to make you happy and vice versa. And even Voldemort could admit that the idea of soulmates was nice in theory. He hadn't even managed to escape the popularity of such ideas.
But until now it had played next to no part in his life. He had more important things to do usually. He allowed others to enjoy themselves on the 'day of lovers' and stayed far out of the way.
Now however, he had a consort/fiance to woo and he wasn't so sure of what to do. Did Harry Potter even like Valentine's Day? Did he expect Voldemort to go out of his way with a big spectacle and get chocolates and flowers like every other person in the world would do on Valentine's Day? And did he want... declarations of love?
Voldemort wasn't sure of love and what it meant. He couldn't just tell Harry he loved him when he could never truly understand what it meant to be loved. And while emotions and people's feelings hadn't ever meant much to him before, he would never do Harry such a disservice as to lie to him over something like that. Especially when Harry was as emotionally stunted as Voldemort. The Dark Lord was cruel and heartless to a point, but it came in its own special brand that set him apart from others. He didn't want to manipulate Harry's feelings in such a way, and knew that Harry would never do the same to him. Harry valued honesty very much and he was upfront about wanting a proper romancing. Lying wasn't proper in any form.
So what to do on the most annoying day of all days? Where someone in the business of marketing, decided that pink was the colour of love and the commercial market was flush with pink, heart-themed items. Things that were more expensive than normal all because they came in a different coloured bottle, or because the word 'love' was added in the bloody title. The time where roses of any kind were triple the usual price because apparently only roses could show your true love for another person?
Now, Voldemort wasn't all too fond of flora, but he found himself fancying the muted tones of peach coloured zinnias. A lingering bias from a single time in his youth when a woman selling flowers down the road from the orphanage had just handed him a flower, telling him he should continue to try hard in school and one day he'd get out of his unfortunate situation by his own skills and wouldn't owe anyone anything. It been one of those moments to stay with him, especially since he hadn't had to pay for the flower. It was a gift in a way, and the words even more prominent to young Tom Riddle.
So Voldemort felt a small inclination toward zinnias. That was why they were planted all over the manor. And no one even knew why.
But back onto the subject of Valentine's Day and Harry. Would he welcome flowers? Perhaps one of those creatures that looked like a flower but actually wasn't? It was simply nature's way of protecting them from danger. Pulchriteals were difficult to capture however, because they could blend in so well and manually checking every teal coloured flower was hell.
Maybe he should aim for something easier to spot from a distance?
Or no flowers or creatures that looked like them? Maybe Harry would like a dinner? Though it wouldn't be meaningful like the one on Voldemort's birthday since Voldemort couldn't cook or bake anything. And he wasn't feeling moved to attempt to make anything. He might give poor Vashti, his Head Elf, a heart attack if he even thought about it.
Being in a relationship was so difficult!
Bellatrix cackled as she threw Floo Powder into the fire and watched as the flames turned bright green. "Merryberry Cottage, Godric's Hollow!" What a ridiculous name for a dwelling, but then again, what else should she expect from a Light-oriented Potter? Light lovers always had odd names for their homes.
James Potter's face appeared in the flames and the man looked almost constipated upon seeing her. "What can I do for you, Bellatrix?" Having to be polite must have been killing him inside! She cackled, enjoying his discomfort very much.
"Your moment has come, Potter. Is cousin Sirius with you?"
"Yeah?"
The woman took a deep breathe. "Under an agreement with the French Minister, our Lord is to send reinforcements should Lady Herakles of Greece attempt to enter France. I along with some of our community's best duelists have been summoned, including you and cousin Sirius. Cousin Nymphy is joining us, along with Lucius and Severus, so get to the Minister's office in the next five minutes for a more detailed debriefing from the Dark Lord."
She didn't even give him a chance to reply, and cut the call off. She was far too excited to care either.
Bellatrix's magic tracking skills were going to be put to use on this mission. She couldn't wait to test the skills of this supposed Dark Lady herself! There was much doubt over whether or not she could best Lord Voldemort, meaning Bellatrix along with the others who would join her on this venture, should be able to take her down easily.
And it was so fun to think that she would finally be able to see some real action again! Being in charge of the Dueling Arena just wasn't enough because there were rules and regulations that had to be followed and no one was allowed to kill anyone. And Lucius was such an anal retentive ninny half of the time that it was a miracle that they saw any action at all.
"Boys, mummy has to go and kill a Dark Lady! Don't give the House Elves too much grief while I'm gone!" the woman cackled. She then threw some more Floo Powder into the fire and bellowed, "Ministry of Magic!"
Too bad she couldn't bring Hermione.
A/N: The first is done!
How was it? Let me know!
Check out my other Harrymort fics!
See ya! :D
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.