The Return

From the moment he'd first held Fleur in his arms, Sebastien knew that his life as a father would not be an easy one. With the addition of Gabrielle only a few years later, that notion had only been affirmed further.

It had been a difficult year at best, and Sebastien still lamented his daughter's decision to enter the Triwizard Tournament. Try as he had to convince her otherwise, Fleur had been stubborn and steadfast in her decision to do so.

Who could have known it would have led to the series of events that had unfolded?

Both Fleur and Gabrielle had almost been killed, and now, his oldest daughter was barely recognisable. She had become more introverted, thoughtful, and considerate of her decisions.

In some ways, the changes were good, but Sebastien missed the fiery, vibrant veela he had helped raise.

Still, how could what the girl experienced not have changed her?

He sighed as he looked across the table at her.

She seemed to be coming back to herself, for the most part, but her time in Britain had left a permanent impression on her, as it had Gabrielle.

His gaze shifted to his younger daughter.

Gabrielle was most fortunate to be alive, but it truly had been a close call.

For months she had remained under the care of a Veela healer, and it had only been a matter of weeks now that she had been deemed well. Despite the good news, Sebastien found himself lamenting for the little girl she had seemingly been before being plunged into the lake.

Her heritage had struck back with vengeance, and in her weakened state, her own magic had almost been the cause of demise. However, she had come out of it on the other side, very much as she had been, only much older in appearance.

She was fifteen now and looked her age, much to Sebastien's consternation.

He'd always had every faith in his daughters, it was the rest of the world he could not bring himself to trust.

Gabrielle was just as beautiful as her mother and sister, and with her returning to Beauxbatons in a matter of hours, alone, Sebastien had his concerns, as any father would.

How would her classmates take the changes?

He did not know, but if Gabrielle's experience was anything like Fleur's had been, it would be a difficult transition for the girl.

Nevertheless, Gabrielle was not as sensitive as her sibling. She'd never had the hope that she would not be treated differently and had accepted it long ago.

Perhaps she would be just fine.

"Sebastien?" Apolline called, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turned towards his wife who was holding up a letter that had evidently arrived during his reverie.

"Who is it from?"

Apolline rolled her eyes at him.

"I cannot see through parchment," she sighed as she slid the envelope across the table and began feeding the striking owl that had delivered it some of the meat on her plate.

Sebastien frowned as he opened the letter, nodding as he smiled approvingly.

Dear Mr Delacour,

I would like to first apologise for my lack of reply to your last letter. As I'm sure you can understand, things have been rather difficult recently.

If the offer is still extended to meet with you and your family, I would like to accept at your convenience.

I hope Gabrielle and Fleur are well.

Again, you have my apologies.

Sincerely yours,

Harry James Potter

It was a simple note, but one that was appreciated.

Sebastien held nothing against the boy for his silence, not with what he had must have been enduring since the night of the final task. Regardless, the gesture denoted a level of respect that would go a long way.

"Who is it from?" Apolline queried.

Instead of offering a smart response, Sebastien handed the letter to his wife and she smiled.

"Maybe we should invite him over the Christmas break," she suggested.

"Invite who?" Fleur asked.

"Harry."

"Harry Potter?" Gabrielle asked, her curiosity having been piqued.

Sebastien nodded.

"I think I will," he mused aloud.

He'd not spoken much with the boy, but he'd proven his character and mettle through his actions, and Sebastien was certainly intrigued by him.

"Did he ask about me?" Gabrielle pressed.

"He said that he hopes you are well," Apolline answered.

Gabrielle beamed at the revelation and Sebastien shook his head.

She hadn't said as much, but he suspected Gabrielle held a candle for the boy that had saved her life, even before the incident in the lake she had spoken of him often.

What he had done only endeared him to her more.

Maybe he should warn Harry before he comes?

Sebastien vividly remembered what it was like to have a Veela showing such affection towards him. Apolline had made her intentions known when they had met, and Sebastien had been unable to resist her charms.

Not her magic, of course. He'd grown accustomed to that quickly, but he had fallen in love with Apolline; the woman and the Veela.

Then again, who was he to interfere in the lives of others?

The thought of a little mischief brought a grin to his lips.

Gabrielle was merely experiencing her first crush, and Harry Potter would certainly not be looking for any other romantic liaisons in his life, not after…

"Come along, Gabrielle," Apolline urged. "You still have to pack."

"How did you know I haven't packed?"

"Because you are my daughter," Apolline replied simply. "You will leave it until the last minute."

Gabrielle scowled at her grinning mother and Fleur took pity on the girl, leading her from the kitchen with the promise that she would help.

Yes, having daughters had not made his life easier, but Sebastien would not change his lot in life.

(Break)

SIRIUS BLACK – NOT GUILTY!

By Rita Skeeter

In what can only now be described as a severe miscarriage of justice, Sirius Orion Black, 36, spent almost twelve years of his life in prison, without ever being officially convicted of any wrongdoing, leaving his reputation in tatters.

It was alleged that Black, 22 at the time, was responsible for the murder of Peter Pettigrew along with 12 muggles. Thrown into Azkaban without a trial, he proceeded to spend more than a decade in the infamous prison until his escape two years ago.

Upon the request of Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Black surrendered himself into her custody late on Thursday night where he was subjected to questioning under Veritaserum. Also present was Minister Fudge, Albus Dumbledore, in his capacity of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and two, unnamed, Senior Aurors.

According to Madam Bones, Black was questioned extensively on the events leading to his imprisonment, in which it was discovered that he was not guilty of any crime. Peter Pettigrew had faked his death, and in the process, killed the muggles in question.

So, what does this mean for the former prisoner?

'Well, Black is free to go,' a tired Minister Fudge informed the gathered members of the media. 'Of course, he has the full apology of the Ministry for the mistakes made by the previous establishment.'

Albus Dumbledore added that; 'Mr Black has been wrongfully accused and imprisoned for a very long time. He has been robbed of years of his life, and it will come as no surprise if he seeks reparations from those responsible. I wish Mr Black the very best of luck and implore the members of the public to remember that he is an innocent man.'

Madam Bones was not available for comment and Mr Black chose to make none as he was escorted through the Ministry by the aurors where he was allowed to leave a free man.

Harry nodded approvingly as he read the article Rita had sent. He'd warned the woman about allowing her imagination to run wild with this, and she had listened.

What choice did she have?

Sirius was finally free and Pettigrew was dead. With a little luck, his soul had been deemed wicked enough for Death to torture him for what he'd done.

"He's in here, Hermione."

Ron slid the door to the compartment open.

"We waited for you on the platform," Hermione huffed as they entered.

"I thought I'd just get on the train," Harry murmured.

In truth, he wanted to avoid the inevitable staring from the other students or speaking with certain others. It was unavoidable as he shared a Common Room with them, but he didn't even know what he would say to Angelina and Alicia.

He had received letters from them, but they had been among those he hadn't replied to.

It wasn't that he wished to be rude or disrespectful to the girls, but the very thought of writing to them when everything had been so raw had been too painful.

"Are you going to tell us where you got that scar?" Ron pressed, nodding to the mark on Harry's cheek.

"Shaving."

Hermione tutted but did not press the issue.

"So, what do you think this year will be like?" Ron asked after a moment of awkward silence. "We should at least get Quidditch back."

The thought of playing did not feel Harry with the same excitement it once had. Quidditch had been an experience he'd shared with Katie and doing it without her felt wrong.

He knew it was stupid to think such a way, but he couldn't help it.

As far along as he had come with losing her, he still had moments and even days when it was overwhelming. Quidditch had not been something he had even considered over the past few months, and now that it had been mentioned, he wasn't sure what he would do.

Besides, it wasn't as though the extra time wouldn't be useful.

"I don't think it is going to be great," Hermione predicted. "With him back, it's only going to make some of the Slytherins worse."

Harry hummed.

"Probably," he agreed, "but I'll soon sort that out. Anyway, I'm going to see if I can find the trolley lady," he announced as he stood.

"We have to go too," Hermione replied awkwardly.

Harry frowned as he looked to where the girl was pointing.

"Of course you made Prefect," he chuckled. "Well done, and you, Ron."

The redhead blushed slightly as he nodded.

"We'll come back after we've done our rounds."

Harry had forgotten that Prefects would be selected for his year-group, but it was not a position he relished himself. Patrolling at nighttime and having to deal with the first years would be a waste of his time.

Hermione would be good at it, but Ron, he wasn't so sure.

The boy enjoyed his sleep too much.

With a snort of amusement to himself, he retook his seat and decided to wait for the trolley to come to him. Instead, he had a few books he was making his way through, and in particular, he was attempting to learn more about wandless magic, something that very little had been written about.

It was a difficult practice, and Harry had experienced only minimal success with it thus far.

Ron and Hermione returned around an hour after he had settled into his reading, the former looking most displeased.

"You'll never guess who else has been made prefect?" he asked sarcastically.

Harry could only shake his head.

Evidently, it was the heads of houses that made the decisions. Given the circumstances, Harry doubted Dumbledore would have chosen Malfoy. Then again, he probably would have in a bid to get the boy to behave.

That wouldn't work. Draco would still be as odious as ever.

"Hard luck, mate," Harry offered as he stood and stretched.

The lunch trolley still was yet to arrive and he was growing rather impatient.

"She's about four carriages down," Hermione sighed as Harry's stomach rumbled.

He nodded appreciatively as he left the compartment to find the elusive woman, almost bumping into someone as they stepped out in front of him as he passed into the adjoining carriage.

Daphne gasped at the sight of him, a frown marring her features as her gaze drifted to the scar on his cheek.

"Here," she said simply, handing him a piece of parchment. "I was going to write to you, but…"

"Thanks," Harry said appreciatively. "I owe you one, Greengrass."

"You owe me two, Potter," she returned with a smirk.

"Well, isn't this lovely," a voice drawled. "Potter and Greengrass. I didn't know you are friends."

"We're not," Harry denied as he stared at the boy who was expectedly flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "I almost knocked Greengrass over, and as I'm not an absolute prick, I was just making sure she's okay," he added with a sarcastic smile.

Crabbe looked as though he had lost weight over the summer. Perhaps the death of his father had spoiled his usually enormous appetite.

Malfoy's lips curled as he stepped forward.

"You'd better watch yourself, Potter," he goaded, pointing to the prefect badge pin to his robes. "Just one word, and I'll have you serving detention with Filch for the rest of the year. Shouldn't you be keeping a low profile?"

"Shouldn't you be on your knees in front of your father's master. He seems to have a fetish for young boys."

Draco flushed in fury and Daphne failed to hide her own snort of amusement.

"Do you think it is funny, Greengrass?" he growled. "You should be careful who you associate with."

"As should you," Harry returned. "Death Eater's seem to have a way of dying when they're around me."

Malfoy's jaw tightened as Goyle seized the back of Crabbe's robes to prevent him from attacking Harry.

"The Dark Lord…"

Whatever Draco was going to say was cut off as Harry ploughed his fist into the boys' nose, snapping his head backwards before he tumbled into Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry. However, did not relent and kicked him in the ribs a few times for good measure.

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I was you, Malfoy," he suggested. "You may think Voldemort will protect you but he couldn't give a shit about you and your father. You should be more concerned that you are being kept in a castle with me where you have no one to protect you. For every life your father and his friends ruin, I am going to be here to do the same to you and anyone else whose parents like to hide under masks. You can tell them that, Draco, and I swear that if you cross me just once more, I'll give you more than a fucking hiding. Do you understand?"

Draco whimpered as he nodded, and Harry gave him a final kick for good measure before turning away.

"Apologies, Greengrass," he offered, "but he pissed me off once too many times."

Daphne could only stare back at him in utter shock, and having lost his appetite, Harry made his way back towards the compartment he was sharing with Ron and Hermione.

He would undoubtedly be given multiple detentions, but he couldn't care less.

Malfoy had needed to be dealt with, and there were more important things that required his focus than an idiot with a superiority complex.

(Break)

"Excuse me?" Sirius managed to scoff in disbelief.

The goblin seated opposite bared its teeth in irritation.

"You are the last living Black male," it reiterated. "The family titles, the wealth, and the rest of it is yours, Mr Black."

"But I was cast out."

The goblin growled.

"Gringotts never received such a notification," it denied. "Now, sign here. I have much to attend to today."

Dumbly, Sirius did so and accepted the keys and the very same ring worn by his grandfather that were slid across the table to him.

"Good day, Mr Black."

Sirius stood and took his leave of the bank.

He'd only come to fetch some gold from his personal account, which, according to Ramrod, had been merged with the family account upon the death of Arcturus Black, the former Head of the family.

He shook his head as he made his way through Diagon Alley, ignoring the stares he received and the women pulling their young children protectively behind them.

He'd only come to the alley to get a replacement wand of his own, and now he was responsible for the entirety of the family estate he'd believed he'd been excommunicated from.

It was an odd turn of events and Sirius couldn't quite believe it.

Was this why Lucius Malfoy had been so determined to not allow him to be questioned?

He paused at the thought as a grin tugged at his lips.

Being the Head of the family meant that he now had a seat on the Wizengamot and Sirius could not wait to see the faces of those he despised as he sat amongst them.

The gold meant little to him, but the name Black still held much value beyond monetary things.

Yes, this could be for the best.

As was his nature, Sirius began planning his next moves, ensuring that he did not overlook even the finest of details.

Nonetheless, it was reluctantly that he headed back towards Gringotts.

With so many lives to ruin, he needed information, after all.

(Break)

Albus watched as Dolores read the article pertaining to Sirius's exoneration for the dozenth time, doing his utmost to keep his expression neutral. The woman was poor at hiding the fury she was attempting to contain.

"It is good news, isn't?" Minerva asked as she took a seat next to Albus.

"Good news?" Dolores snorted. "The man is a raving lunatic!"

"But an innocent one," Minerva pointed out.

Dolores merely clenched her jaw and stomped out of the Great Hall.

"Do you think it is wise to provoke her?" Albus sighed.

Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I think you should be more concerned with how she will conduct herself, Albus. The woman is not qualified to teach and she has quite the tendency to irritate people. Who do you think she will target? Whose letter was it that led to Sirius's freedom?"

Albus frowned at the thought.

It would not do well for Dolores Umbridge to provoke Harry. Doing so would elicit a most unpleasant response for her. The boy already despised the Ministry for the most part, and Dolores was not the most endearing of people.

"I will speak with him," Albus sighed.

Minerva nodded.

"I think it is for the best. Not that I believe it will do any good mind," she added. "Potter will not take kindly to her."

With that, she too left to greet the first years that would be arriving shortly, and Albus could not help but think his Transfiguration professor was hoping for an altercation between Dolores and Harry.

The Headmaster could only shake his head.

This was going to be a long schoolyear, and Dolores would only add to the already volatile situation.

"What is it, Parkinson?" Severus snapped as the girl all but sprinted towards the staff table.

"Professor, Draco has been taken to the Hospital Wing," she explained worriedly.

"And what led to this?" Severus asked.

"Potter attacked him, Professor."

"Only because Draco threatened him."

Albus's eyes widened at the sight of Daphne Greengrass defending Harry. The girl had filed in with the rest of the students and had immediately made a beeline towards the ensuing conversation.

Severus rubbed his temples irritably, scowling as Harry entered the Great Hall.

"COME HERE, POTTER!" he demanded.

"Severus," Albus warned.

Harry approached, ignoring the stares and whispers aimed his way.

"Harry, could you explain what happened between yourself and Mr Malfoy?" Albus requested.

Harry shrugged.

"He tried to throw his weight around and mentioned a certain Dark Lord. To me, that was a threat against my life, so I shut his mouth for him. Maybe now he won't have such a loose tongue."

Severus simply stared at Harry bemusedly and Albus released a deep sigh.

"What did you do to him?"

"Punched him…"

"And kicked him!" Parkinson interjected.

"That too," Harry agreed. "I think I showed a lot of restraint by not cursing him, personally."

It was by no means an ideal situation, and Albus had warned Severus about making Draco a prefect. It had been a poor choice indeed, though at least Harry had not cursed him. It would have been much worse for Draco if he had.

"Well, I'm afraid that will be a week of detention, Harry," Albus informed him. "I'm sure Professor Hagrid will be able to accommodate that."

The boy merely nodded in response.

"I will have a word with Mr Malfoy when he is able," Albus added. "Now, return to your tables."

The teens complied just as Dolores entered the Great Hall, hurrying towards Albus.

"Will this day not end," he murmured. "Dolores?"

"I have just been informed that Mr Potter has attacked Mr Malfoy most savagely…"

Albus held a hand up to silence the woman.

"The situation is in hand, Dolores," he assured her. "Come, the feat will begin shortly."

"Surely the boy should be expelled…"

"I said the matter is in hand, Dolores," Albus reiterated firmly. "If we expelled every student who had an altercation with another, we would have no school. Now, take your seat. The custard we serve is most moreish."

Dolores did so unhappily and Albus only got the impression further that the woman would be the cause of much of his stress this year.

Still, if the previous Professors' tenures were anything to go by, at least it would only be for the one year.

(Break)

"Did you really kick the crap out of Malfoy?" Ron asked excitedly as the food appeared on the plates before them.

"The little shit got less than he deserved," Harry muttered.

"Harry," Hermione sighed. "You're really going to get yourself into trouble."

"How much more trouble can I be in?" Harry returned. "I don't think a detention or even being expelled will make my situation any worse, do you?"

Hermione offered him a sympathetic smile and Harry stabbed his fork into a piece of chicken.

Perhaps now Malfoy will think twice before opening his mouth.

"I wish I could have seen it," Ron chuckled. "I saw Crabbe and Goyle helping him off the train. His face was a mess."

"I only punched him once," Harry explained.

"Good on you, Harry," one of the twins praised. "Want us to dog him this year?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'll deal with Malfoy and the other Slytherins."

The twin nodded his understanding.

"What was that woman talking about?" Ron asked curiously, gesturing towards the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Just that the Ministry are taking an unhealthy interest in Hogwarts," Hermione huffed.

"She's one of Fudge's lackeys. I saw her when I helped Hagrid with Buckbeak. She's a horrible cow."

"She can't be that bad."

"You said the same about Lockhart," Ron pointed out to Hermione. "If she's one of Fudge's, she'll be next to useless."

"That's just great," Hermione despaired. "This is our OWL year."

"It's not like you won't pass," Harry snorted. "You're probably reading NEWT level stuff by now."

Hermione shook her head.

"I asked Professor McGonagall if I could and she said although my theory work is good enough, I wouldn't be able to handle the practical aspect of most of the magic."

Harry frowned at that.

He'd begun NEWT work in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts the previous year before his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire.

Hermione was a brilliant witch, but it did often take her some time to master a spell. She could cast them competently enough for the most quite quickly, but mastering it was another thing altogether.

"Well, you'll still be fine in your OWLs," he comforted, helping himself to a slice of treacle tart.

"I hope so," Hermione murmured worriedly.

(Break)

Barty looked upon the rest of the gathered Death Eaters with barely concealed disdain as they seated themselves around the table in Malfoy Manor. They could not hide their surprise at seeing him there, believing, like the rest of the world, he had died in Azkaban.

Oh, how we loathed each and every one of them.

He wished Potter had managed to kill them all, but he could not deny the satisfaction of them knowing that it had been him who was vital in the return of their lord.

"Crouch," Lucius greeted him speculatively.

"Malfoy," Barty returned with a grin.

He hoped beyond hope that he would be there to witness the demise of the man. Lucius was a coward, denying any and all things he had partaken in during the first war.

Barty may have been a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts, but he had never been a coward.

Nott…Goyle…Travers…

They were all here too, each having followed suit to save their own skins when their master needed their assistance. The Dark Lord may have forgiven them, but Barty never would.

"I need a volunteer," the Dark Lord requested, "someone who will treat with the giants on my behalf on the continent. They will prove to be most useful allies. If Walden were here, he would have been perfect."

"I can manage that, my lord," Goyle offered.

Barty had his doubts. The man could barely form a sentence under his own steam.

"Take Travers with you," the Dark Lord instructed. "You are to take appropriate gifts and afford them the respect they will command."

"Of course, My Lord," Travers replied with bow.

Voldemort nodded appreciatively.

"As you can see, there is another amongst us who was pivotal in my return," he spoke once more, gesturing towards Barty. "He finds himself in my good graces and will be rewarded suitably for all he has done. Because of him, Alastor Moody is dead, as is his own father. Barty will continue to operate as I see fit, and his presence is not to be made known. Lucius? Do you have anything of note to report from the Ministry."

The blond nodded.

"Black has been reprieved," he informed the Dark Lord. "If he manages to claim the family wealth and titles, he could prove to be problematic."

"How so?"

"Many of your supporters are indebted to the Blacks," Lucius sighed. "Dating back generations, many turned to them for funding to start their enterprises. Black could, depending on the agreements made, cause us financial trouble or leverage votes on the Wizengamot."

"What is known of Sirius Black?" Voldemort demanded.

He had been a young, rather insignificant man during the first war. An outcast of a great family with no influence.

That had, evidently, changed.

"He was the first of them not to be sorted into Slytherin in recent memory. He is Potter's godfather and he was supposedly cast out by the Blacks for being unlike them," Lucius explained.

"Is he a fool?"

"Aren't all of those that follow Dumbledore?" Travers chuckled.

"If they were, we would not be here now!" the Dark Lord snapped irritably.

Travers fell silent under his master's glare.

"He was younger than us," Lucius sighed. "I do know that from a young age he was tutored by his grandfather, up until he was around fifteen. He would have learned a lot from Arcturus Black. There was even a rumour that he intended on naming Sirius the next in line over his own son."

The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully.

"I suspect he will be impossible to reach."

"He will, My Lord," Lucius agreed. "The protections of the Blacks are infamous and are only made privy to each Lord as they become the Head of the family."

"Then we must consider our next steps carefully," Voldemort murmured. "For now, we observe his actions. If he becomes a glaring problem, he is to be dealt with. Now, for those not with us who should be…"

Barty grinned.

Those truly loyal to the Dark Lord would join them soon enough, those that had chosen to suffer the horrors of Azkaban instead of forsaking their master as so many others had.

That was when things would become more interesting.

Still, Barty would continue to play his own games where the traitors were concerned, and he had given a certain boy more than enough motivation to do what was required.

Barty's grin widened as he observed those seated around him.

Most would be lucky to see another year if all went to plan. He simply needed to orchestrate things favourably.

(Break)

Harry could only smile sadly as Angelina and Alicia approached him as he was seated by the fireplace. Immediately, Ron and Hermione made a feeble excuse to leave, and Harry found he didn't know what to say.

The guilt he had been riddled with all summer was still there, gnawing away at him whenever he pondered what had happened to Katie, and he knew he would never be rid of it entirely.

He waited for one of the girls to speak. Instead, he quickly found himself engulfed in an embrace by both. Harry couldn't be certain how long they clung to him, but when they pulled away, both were weeping silent tears.

He had shed all of his long ago, but the hurt remained just no longer as raw.

"Fred and George said you came," Alicia eventually spoke.

Harry nodded.

"I did, I just wasn't ready to see anyone."

"You could have written to us," Angelina chastised him. "We just wanted to know that you were okay, Harry."

"I know," he sighed. "I didn't know what to say. I left before I saw anyone else after…you know."

"Why did you leave?"

Harry shrugged.

"I just had to. I didn't want to be here and I needed to deal with it my own way."

"Did you manage it?"

"Not really," Harry murmured. "It doesn't just disappear, does it?"

"No," Alicia agreed. "I'll always miss her, and so will you, but Katie would be furious if we let you deal with it on your own. We're here for you, Harry, and you should be here for us too."

Harry nodded.

He knew he had been selfish, but at the time, he hadn't been able to bring himself to care. Even now, it was something he was struggling. Day in and day out, his mind was occupied with what Voldemort was doing, who was behind what had happened to Katie, and what his own next move would be.

In truth, he had considered not coming back to Hogwarts at all, though he knew it would be a decision he'd regret. Besides, being in the castle was of much more use to him. Here, he had his room that had proven to be invaluable and there was a sense of normality he could use.

It would never fully distract him from the monumental task ahead, but any reprieve would be welcomed.

"Her parents were disappointed they didn't get to meet you," Alicia explained. "She'd told them all about you and how much you meant to her."

"I will reach out to them," Harry sighed tiredly as he drew the extra wand he'd been carrying around with him since the night of the third task. "I need to make sure they get this."

"Her mother asked what had happened to it. They'll appreciate having it back," Angelina assured him. "I know now is probably not the time to bring it up but I've been made Quidditch Captain," she added. "We will need to find a Keeper and another Chaser."

Harry shook his head.

"I think I'm done with Quidditch."

The two girls shared a look and Alicia reached across and took Harry's hand.

"Are you done with it because you want to be or because of Katie?"

"I don't know," Harry answered honestly. "It wouldn't feel right playing without her and… I just don't know."

"Well, don't make any decision yet," Angelina urged. "I'm not going to try to force you to play, but if it is because of Katie, it is a stupid reason to quit. She would kick your arse if you did it because of that."

"She would," Alicia agreed. "She always said how she expected the stands to be swarmed by scouts and coaches to come and watch you play. You're probably the most talented student to come through here in decades, Harry. Don't waste that if you can help it. Merlin knows England could use a decent Seeker."

Harry chuckled as he held up his hands.

"I won't make a rash decision," he promised. "Anyway, I really could use some sleep. Thank you both for understanding."

The girls nodded and Harry took his leave of them, making his way to the still-empty dormitory where he took a seat on the edge of his bed, pondering his future in the sport.

Even after several minutes of weighing up his options, he was no closer to making a decision, and with a sigh, he began removing his robes, frowning as he came upon the folded-up parchment in his pocket.

With the altercation with Draco, he had all but forgotten about it.

Unfolding it, he frowned thoughtfully as he began to read.

Potter,

It was not easy to find out, but the Gaunt family last resided just outside a muggle village called Little Hangelton. The last Lord, Marvolo, died in Azkaban some years ago.

He has a son, named Morfin, who is alive and still imprisoned there for murdering the Riddles. They were a muggle family from the village.

Marvolo's wife died decades ago, but he also had a daughter named Merope. No one knows what happened to her. She just vanished one day and was never seen again.

I do not know if she is still alive or how important this information is to you, but it wasn't easy to come by.

You really owe me one for this.

D

And just like that, so many things fell into place.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Merope Gaunt had to be his mother, and his father a muggle from the Riddle family. It was the only thing that made sense.

His frown deepened as he threw open his trunk and removed something he'd placed there at the end of his second year at Hogwarts. Running his finger across the gilded lettering of the diary, he smirked to himself.

Retrieving a quill, he opened the book.

He had planned on discussing this with Nicholas, but with everything that had happened, he'd forgotten he even possessed it. Now, however, it could prove to be most useful.

Hello, Tom he wrote, and eagerly waited for a response.

If the stone was indeed in Little Hangelton, he would find it. However, before he ventured there, it wouldn't hurt to use this trinket to his advantage.

Voldemort was cunning in his ways, but Harry could be too, and the Dark Lord would discover that for himself.

(Break)

"How is Mr Malfoy?" Albus asked as Severus entered the office.

"His ego is as bruised as his eyes, but Draco is not the reason I am here."

Albus gestured for the man to continue. He appeared to be quite concerned by the matter he wished to raise, and that alone was enough to set Albus on edge.

It took much to rattle the Potions Master, after all.

"I have discovered who was responsible for what happened during the tournament."

Albus leaned forward in his chair interestedly.

"Barty Crouch."

"Severus, I do not…"

"Junior."

Albus's mouth fell agape.

"He died in Azkaban," he pointed out.

"Officially," Severus agreed darkly. "I do not know how he managed freedom, but he is alive and is serving the Dark Lord. I suspect he spent the previous year posing as Moody."

Albus nodded.

"Barty and Alastor knew each other well enough," he mused aloud. "Barty Junior would have spent enough time around him growing up."

The boy had been as gifted as his father before him as a student. He had graduated Hogwarts with excellent grades and had a promising future before him.

That had been until Igor Karkaroff had named him as a Death Eater during his own trial.

None had suspected Barty before this, but having been questioned under Veritaserum, his transgressions had come to light. He'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban and had died only a few years later.

Or so Albus thought.

"This is concerning," he murmured. "What is he doing?"

"None are being informed of his activities," Severus sighed. "We have already seen for ourselves what he is capable of, Headmaster. What concerns me most is Potter."

"Harry?"

"If he learns of this, do you think he will keep a cool enough head to not do anything foolish?"

Albus could not imagine a scenario where Harry would learn who was responsible for the death of Miss Bell and remain composed. No, he would seek immediate vengeance.

"The boy is troubling, Albus," Severus continued. "The Dark Lord has not said as much, but he is worried. He expected Potter to be more like yourself or his parents, but he is not. The boy has been practicing Dark Magic and likely other things we are not aware of."

Albus had raised the same concerns with Nicholas.

"As is his choice," Albus returned reluctantly. "As much as I wish that Harry would allow himself to be guided by more pleasant aspects of magic, he has made his decisions and will continue to do so, Severus. I must say, I was naïve in my belief that he could have experienced what he has and become what I once envisioned. If you consider the facts, I'm sure you will agree it is nothing short of a miracle that he is as well-rounded as he is."

"The facts?" Severus pressed.

"It cannot have escaped your notice how similar their beginnings were," Albus replied. "Both orphaned and raised in places where they were not loved, talented, ambitious, and willing to do what they believe is necessary for a desired outcome. The differences are lesser than the similarities, Severus, yet at their very cores, Harry is different where it matters."

"But for how long?" Severus asked. "Potter is becoming more inclined towards violence. Only last year he would have dismissed Draco's attempts to provoke him, mostly."

"He is becoming what he believes he need to be," Albus said sadly, "and I cannot fault him. Miss Bell's death has irrevocably changed him, Severus, but he is still different where it matters. As much as they are similar, Harry is not him and will not become him. He despises everything Voldemort stands for and though I wish it could all be so straight forward; it simply cannot be. Harry is unfortunate in that he cares for others how he does, even if it is fortunate for us. It saddens me deeply that he has to sully himself and dirty his hands in such a way, but can you think of an alternative where he can win?"

Severus shook his head.

"He must be as ruthless as the Dark Lord," he conceded, "but he cannot allow his emotions to control his actions. It will be taken advantage of. Have you considered Occlumency?"

"Harry has been studying it since the end of his first year," Albus revealed. "He is not as reckless as you believe. He takes risks, but he considers them first. I do not like the outlook of what is to come, Severus, but I have every faith in him. Harry has everything to gain from this, and Tom's ego will be his downfall. He may no longer underestimate Harry, but he will never see him as his equal. Harry will prove him wrong. I am certain of it."

Severus nodded as he stood.

"I cannot say I share your faith, Albus. The Dark Lord is like no other and unless Potter has something the Dark Lord does not, he will die," he returned grimly. "I will warn Draco against antagonising him further."

With that, Severus left the office and Albus began stroking Fawkes' plumage.

Throughout the summer he had pondered Harry, what the boy had endured and what he was becoming. It was worrying to say the least, but he knew he had to keep faith.

No, Harry would not become Tom, but he was well on the way to becoming something Tom had never considered he would face.