CHAPTER 33: The Price of Innocence (Part 4)

The Great Hall

8:15 a.m.

"How were the lessons?" Pansy asked as she filled her plate with shirred eggs, two sausages, and a piece of toast with an orange juice on the side.

Harry sneered, stabbing at his own food. "How do you think? Snape's a dickhead."

"You're not a pretty little flower either," Pansy rolled her eyes. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"How about, next time, you go and get your brain fried by the fucker, don't ya? You had your little fucking easy training with meditating and reading and shit, while Snape gets off on fucking about with me!"

"Alright, keep your whining for later, Jesus. Why did I even ask?" She added under her breath. "Look, we have bigger problems right now. Today's our first Charms class."

"So what?"

"So, Professor… Professor…. What was her bloody name again?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" He sniped back.

"Whatever, she's been the most ruthless teacher out of the new lot. Like putting us to read those bloody books isn't enough, she'll have you answer questions of the chapter, or give summaries of what you've read so far, or bullshit like that! Some even say she's more passionate about this whole new curriculum than Umbridge."

"… Are you really giving a shit about school right now? After everything that's gone down in the past few days, and you're whining about having to read those bloody books!? We fucking killed Montague, how the fuck is fucking Charms class on your fucking mind!?"

"You killed Montague!"

"Yeah, well, you didn't seem too niffed about the whole thing!"

Pansy gave an exasperated sigh.

"Look, just try to focus on school and not getting into trouble. We've gone past the worst of it, as long as you don't cause more shit with Warrington and don't do anything to give Dumbledore the excuse to expel you, you should be clear!"

Harry gave a non-committal shrug.

Focusing on school was the last thing he would be able to do. With Snape's warning about having pissed off other people outside the castle, Voldemort specifically, as well as Warrington, Dumbledore, and Umbridge just being her cunty self, there was really no time with focusing on classes and school work.

Ever since Halloween, he had abruptly stopped doing not just his own work, but the essays and work from others as well. It had always been a side business, something he took on out of boredom - there were just so many hours you could duel before training became obsolete for the rest of the day. He'd been accustomed to chores ever since the Dursley's, but there was something rewarding about getting money from it - it was more of a hobby than work, especially since he just wrote the same shit in different words, so it wasn't that much of an effort.

People had bitched about it, but with everything happening, no one cared for too long.

Granger's voice was still inside his head, though he had managed to put it past him more and more as the days went on. Being around Susan was a gift, it was almost as if she dispelled the ghost of Hermione Granger the moment she was in his vicinity. He hadn't expected her to understand or to side with him, but she had. Besides the moment when Theo jumped out of the stairs and saved his life, he didn't think he had any other memory that brought him this much euphoria.

Eventually, Pansy and Harry exited the Great Hall and made their way over to the Charms classroom, where they found most of the Slytherins already there. Draco gave Harry a curt nod, one which he returned - though surprised at the gesture - before sitting down.

The Golden Trio were there too, the only Gryffindors in the room, no surprise. They were glaring at him in a manner that almost made them look like him. Harry smiled sardonically back at them before, out of pure spite, standing up and sauntering towards them.

"Oh, God," Blaise sighed, but Harry ignored him.

"Lovely morning, isn't it, Fatarse."

Longbottom immediately jumped up from his seat, but Granger was quicker, placing herself between the two of them.

"What do you want, Potter," she sneered at him.

"Well, to talk to my fellow DA leaders, of course" he said happily.

Ron hushed him loudly while Neville looked around alarmed.

Harry groaned. "You dimwits don't even know how the contract works, don't you?"

"Talk about what?" Granger snapped before the other two could rebuke.

"Ah, yes, it's good to have a competent Gryffindor here." He grinned at her with as much veracity as a cow who barks. "Well, it just occurred to me that since you lot have your heads so far up your arses, it would be fun to pull it out. So, I was thinking, your students and my students could duel. See who's the better teacher and all that." He winked at Neville.

"No," Hair flew everywhere as Granger shook her head. "Absolutely not! The whole point of Dumbledore's Army is to unite the students and learn what Umbridge and her… goons want to restrict from us!"

"Well," Harry laughed. "If the whole point was unification, you've done a marvellous job at doing just the opposite. The group is divided almost fifty-fifty, and all the Gryffindors are on your side, while all the Snakes are on mine. Not to mention your bloody accusations that blew up all over your own faces."

"If there's a lack of unity, it's because of you," Granger snarled. "Your pride, your stupid ego that made you want to challenge Neville instead of joining him has caused this rift between the students!"

"Join you? And what, become the Golden Square? No bloody thanks!"

"As if we would ever be friends with a murderer like you!" Ron screamed.

"Didn't Longbottom, like, murder Professor Quirrell?" Harry interrupted. "Or does he get the Boy Who Lived free discount?"

"You're lucky we even still let you come to the meetings." Ron continued, ignoring his words.

"You forget who's in control here, Ronniekins," Harry said, suddenly turning deadly quiet. "But if you truly feel that way, I heard there's a really comfy broom closet where all you Gryffindors can train without the presence of us big bad snakes."

"You would have kicked us out already if that was your plan," Granger said matter-of-factly. "You know you need Neville on board. Otherwise, people wouldn't go."

"Eh, I don't really give a shit about that." Harry shrugged. "Honestly, Theo just happens to have a crush on little Ginny Weasley, so it's not like we can exclude you Gryffindors."

"WHAT DID YOU-"

"Oi!"

As Granger and Longbottom restrained Weasley, Harry turned over to Theo, who was staring at him with indignation and hatred. He couldn't help but let out a smile at that. For once, he was looking at him without all the burden of Montague on his mind. It seemed Theo noticed because he turned away and sat back down.

"You all think you're so special." Harry continued towards the trio. "Frankly, I don't give a shit who goes to the meetings, I'd be fine just training two people. I don't need you or your bullshit. Unless you lot intend to become a little more agreeable towards me and my fellow Snakes, I'll stop even bothering to pick you up for the meetings."

The door behind him opened as Lavender, Parvati, and Seamus stepped inside.

"Food for thought."

"What was that for?" Pansy nudged him as he sat down.

"I was just fucking with them," he shrugged. "It's nothing,"

Minutes went by until she finally came in. The Professor was a tall woman, slightly taller than him, with short, snow hair and vivid red lipstick. She was wearing pristine blue robes and a large ring on the index finger of her left hand, with a C engraved onto it.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," she said briskly. A chalk suddenly appearing in her hand as she began writing on the blackboard. "My name is Alecto Carrow and I will be your new teacher for the remainder of the year. Today, you will forget everything and anything you might know about the subject of Charms." She accentuated it as she drew a line underneath the word on the blackboard.

"These will be your new textbooks," She stated, waving her wand before a massive burgundy tome titled Charming and Enchanting: Basics For Beginners appeared on top of everyone's desk. "Now, let's begin the reading with… Mister Potter." She turned towards him expectantly.

"Present," he said dryly.

"You misunderstand me, Mister Potter, I wasn't taking attendance. I was asking you to begin the reading."

"The reading… out loud?" He asked incredulously.

"We won't be able to hear it otherwise."

"Umbridge let us read silently."

"This isn't Professor Umbridge's classroom, it is mine. Surely, after years of learning under different teachers, you have learnt each of them have their own methods."

"Quite."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Harry breathed in heavily before smiling brightly. "Fine." He opened the textbook, its cover hitting the desk a little harder than it should have. "Charming and Enchanting: Basics for Beginners. Flying Hippogriff Book Group. Falmouth, West Country. Flying Hippogriff Book Group is a publisher co-owned by Albert Macmillan and Robert Dunn, dedicated to furthering the excellence of research, investigation, and education by-"

"Mister Potter, you were to begin at Chapter 1."

"Oh, sorry," he said, a hint of bitterness escaping through his polite facade. "Honest mistake."

The next hour made him miss Umbridge as the class read continuously, one by one, the totality of the first chapter, which was filled with meaningless information about the origins of Charms and Enchanting in the Wizarding World, as well as a timeline with the names of the biggest contributors to this branch of magic. At least with Umbridge, he could pretend he was reading while mentally dozing off, but Carrow didn't let them.

The moment you stopped paying attention to a single word on the book, Carrow would instantly know and ask you a question about a small segment said five pages back - only to humiliate you in front of the entire class. Not that Harry cared, but her teaching made it impossible to even hear his own thoughts. Though he did get a kick out of the many mispronunciations from his classmates, with Crabbe, Goyle, and Seamus taking the cake for most idiotic.

The bell rang, unleashing a swarm of rampaging dragons that ushered the students out of the classroom with a speed unprecedented to mere mortals. Unfortunately for Harry, Alecto Carrow was no mere mortal.

"Mister Potter, a word, if you will."

Pansy sniggered unashamedly beside him before she, too, quickly disappeared out the door.

Carrow leaned on her desk, slowly waving her wand and closing the door behind him. She cast a few more spells around the room and directly at the door before she fully sat on the desk and gazed at him appreciatively.

"You really are just as much of an arsehole as they said you were."

Immediately, Harry summoned his wand from his holster and aimed it at Carrow.

She tutted at him. "You know, I could have you expelled just for that."

"Who the fuck are you and who sent you?"

Carelessly, Carrow stood from the desk and began walking around him, giving Harry the uneasy feeling he wasn't the predator here.

"I expected… more of you. I mean, you're not exactly skin and bones here, but you're far from even being considered as fit. You're not the tallest. Not the smartest. Not even the most Slytherin. I wonder… what is it about you that makes you so special?"

Harry smirked, jamming his wand into her cheek. "My big, voluptuous breasts."

"And terribly unfunny," she scrunched her nose up in disgust. "Still… you're quite the catch, Mister Potter, I'll give you that."

"Uh, gross," he stepped back as she winked at him. "You're like sixty!"

"Forty-five, but who's counting." She shrugged.

Harry groaned. "Look, lady, it's been a long day, I don't have time for this bullshit. If you're here to kill me, let's just get on with it. If you're here to recruit me to Voldemort, then my answer is no. And if you're here for some other weird bullshit reason… then I'm not interested."

"Oh, you don't have a choice, sweetheart." She smiled maniacally. "You killed poor little dumb Montague and asked for a lot of help in covering it all up," she mocked. "And now it's time to pay the piper."

Harry jabbed his wand back into her cheek as she reached for something in her robes. "Ah, ah, ah."

"Scared of a little paper cut?" She said sardonically, pulling out an envelope.

"How about I give you a thousand, and we'll see."

He snatched the envelope out of her hands, opening it up and pulling out the letter within it.

Dear Mr Potter,

We'll be meeting at the Parkinson Cottage in the village of Hogsmeade tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. My granddaughter Pansy should be aware of its location, bring her and anyone in your confidence, so long as they're willing to take the most extreme security and privacy vows and oaths known to wizard-kind.

I await finally meeting you in person.

Bedivere Parkinson

The moment he had finished reading it, the card erupted into flames that consumed it into ash in less than a second. Harry stared, slightly gob-smacked, before turning back towards Carrow.

"What the fuck was that!?"

"That, means my work is done. At least for today, I'll still be your teacher and your point of contact with the old man."

"Point of contact?"

"Essentially, you need anything, you come to me. You kill another person, you come to me. You do any sort of bullshit that isn't Umbridge approved, and you come to me. Anything you need, I'm your girl." She winked.

But before he could say anything, Carrow dispelled the spells around the room, before opening the door and taking her leave.

The Room Of Requirement

4:45 p.m.

It wasn't until they were safely in the Room of Requirement that Harry brought the subject up to Pansy.

The two of them, along with the other four Slytherins, had been hanging about there ever since they finished lunch. Daphne was doing her Arithmancy homework with Blaise on a table near the other side of the room. Draco was practising his duelling with a static dummy - and, as he'd learnt in the past couple of days, Draco had shit aim. And Theo, who was near them but not exactly in hearing range, was doing his Astronomy Examination based on his notes from the previous night.

"I got a letter," he whispered all-of-the-sudden.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" She asked monotonously, not taking her focus off her Umbridge essay.

"From your grandfather."

That got her attention. She turned to him, face hardened. "Give it to me."

"I can't."

"And why not?" Pansy asked dangerously.

"It caught aflame in my hand and turn to ashes." He answered dryly. "If you really want them, you can go pick them up from the Charms classroom."

"Well, what did it say? And how did you get it?"

"Would you believe me if I told you Professor Carrow gave it to me and promised to keep in touch?"

"You're fucking with me," she exclaimed exasperatedly, getting up from her seat.

"Look," Harry said, catching her arm before she could begin pacing around. "Your grandfather asked me - told me - to go to Parkinson Cottage here in Hogsmeade and to bring you and Theo. Why the fuck does he want to see me?"

"I don't fucking know" She hissed. "But if he asked you to go, then you have to go. Did he mention Theo specifically?"

"No, but he explicitly stated people in my confidence."

"Theo's not himself right now, he still needs more time."

"He at least deserves to have the option."

"The option for what?" Theo's voice rung behind him. "Here you go," he handed Harry his piece of parchment. "You didn't take any notes yesterday, use this to base your essay, just don't be a moron and copy it word for word."

"…Thanks?" Harry said as he grabbed the parchment and read it, absent-mindedly hearing Pansy grudgingly tell Theo the situation.

Meteor showers, in some cultures, can also represent a spiritual insight gained by looking deep within the shadows of ourselves and our world. Given how tomorrow will be Tracey Davis' trial, the meteor shower could symbolize the aftermath of it as we as a society are forced to confront the dark side of our culture inside the school.

"I'm in," Theo's serious voice brought him out of his thoughts. "It has to be about… you know. We kinda have to."

"Does that mean you're over it?" Pansy raised an eyebrow at him.

Theo glared at her and walked away.

"Pussy," she rolled her eyes. "And I'm supposed to be the woman of the group!"

Soon enough, the rest of the houses began arriving. The Gryffindors immediately went to the opposite corner with some Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuffs, while the rest went with Harry. Bored of just teaching spells, he decided it was about time to step up their training a bit.

"Alright, it's time we did a bit of actual practice. You aren't complete shit at casting the most basic spells and hit one out of twenty shots, so that should be good enough. We're going to be making duelling competitions between the lot of you, split into tiers varying in skill, from absolute shit to nearing mediocrity."

"But we haven't learned anything important yet!" Anthony Goldstein squeaked.

"Oh, you haven't? Are my free Defence lessons not good enough for you, sir Goldstein? Please, inform me what it is you want to learn."

"Duelling is more than just launching these beginner type spells," he scoffed at his sarcasm. "There has to be Transfiguration, Enchanting. Charms and the such. You know, using more than just disarming and stunning charms."

"Ah," he said with faux sorrow. "You're right, Goldstein, I've been lacking in those areas as a teacher. How about we start with something simple. Most of us here have learnt how to conjure a chair. I'm going to launch a spell at you, and you'll use the conjured chair to intercept it. I need a volunteer… ah Goldstein, please, I need your help with this."

The stupid boy puffed up his chest and nodded seriously. The others began making a circle around them as they got into position.

"I'm going to cast a simple disarming charm, you'll have to intercept it. Are we clear?"

The boy nodded again.

He turned to Susan, who was looking at him curiously, but she got the message and began counting down from three.

The moment the duel begun. Harry immediately attacked the boy, who was too busy doing the complicated wand motions for the conjuring, with a stunning charm. It hit him square in the chest, throwing him back a few feet as he collapsed to the ground - forcing the people forming the circle to move away from the flying boy.

"Duelling spells are crafted specifically for fast-paced duelling." He lectured the others. "Its wand movements and incantation are created with the intent of being able to be cast as fast as possible under situations of duress. Conjuration and Transfiguration spells, on the other hand, aren't, which is why, unless you're a master of the craft with thousands of hours of practice, as well as having practised implementing such magic during combat situations, you won't be able to use that in life or death situations. In other words, stop fantasizing about duelling like Voldemort or Dumbledore when you can't even hit a target accurately with combat-made spells, you morons."

He turned towards everyone in the circle.

"Or does anyone want to follow Mister Goldstein's path and try to prove me wrong?"

As he expected, no one dared to step up, and no one even bothered with waking Goldstein up, though he did tell Susan to have someone levitate him to his room before leaving.

The duels between the students were as much of a shit show as he had been expecting. His best students, like Susan, Pansy, Hannah, Theo, Daphne, Blaise, Terry, and some of his older students turned out pretty average. None of them were exactly impressive, but they were good for above-average students. However, there were other duels where they failed at casting basic spells, and the only reason they hit the other opponent was because he had limited the duelling spaces a lot more than was the standard.

Still, it proved to be a productive session for the group, and definitely a much better one than the others were having as they were being bored to death by Neville teaching them the leg-locker curse.

The room began to clear out once it was time for dinner, and as Harry was ushering the people out, he noticed that Susan was staying back behind the others. Curious, he walked towards her, hoping the rest would still leave without him being forced to babysit.

"Your shield is still shit," he told her dryly. "You only cast it once successfully."

"Is Professor Potter disappointed?" She asked with a tone he couldn't quite place.

"Just work on it, will you?"

"Yes sir," she raised her hand in a salute before bursting out laughing. "Stop being so serious, will you? No need to keep up the professor shtick now that everyone is leaving."

"Eh, I kinda like it," he shrugged. "It's fun to boss people around like that."

"Was humiliating Goldstein like that also fun?" She asked airily.

Harry smirked. "Just a bit."

She slapped his shoulder, finally turning to look at him.

"Are you doing something tomorrow, Harry Potter?"

"Umm…" he tried to find a way to explain his meeting without revealing anything he knew he shouldn't before finally saying." Nope, I don't think so."

"Good, cause you'll be accompanying me to Hogsmeade."

"Oh, I am," he couldn't help the smile that was growing on him, and a weird feeling in his stomach that made him feel a little sick. "I don't get a choice now?"

"Mmmmm…" She scrunched up her nose, and his stomach got weirder. "No, I don't think you do."

"Well then, I guess I can't say no to that."

Slytherin Common Room

9:45 p.m.

"You didn't say no!?" Pansy screeched, and Harry thanked God for their privacy bubble.

"Well, what was I supposed to say!? She ambushed me!"

"No, I'm busy, some other time maybe! It isn't that hard!"

"Look, I told her I promised Theo I'd help him buy some shit, so we have all morning. I'm only meeting her after lunch. It should be enough time for our meeting, right?"

"I don't know! Who knows what my grandfather wants to talk about with you!" She stood up and began pacing in the way she did when she was stressed. "I mean, I don't think you fully understand what this means! My grandfather is one of the most important men in the country - fuck, in the Wizarding World as a whole! He doesn't meet with just anyone! Hell, I've only seen him a few times in my life, and you decided to go on a date the day he schedules the meeting?"

"He probably just wants to talk about… you know. He owes Snape a favour for helping me out, he probably just wants me to pay it off somehow."

"No, if that was the case, he would've sent someone else. This… this is different."

"I think you're focusing on the wrong thing, Pansy," Theo said, an amused grin on his face, their enmity forgotten for the moment. "Our little Potter is finally going on a date! And with Susan Bones, of all people! She's smoking hot! I swear, behind Daphne and Lavender, she's the most wanted girl of our year! I'm just surprised you could pull that, Potter. You have as much game as a putrid, black rose in a colourful garden."

"Can't we go back to you hating me?"

"Stop thinking with your dicks," Pansy spoke before Theo could answer. "I think we have bigger problems than a stupid date."

"Au contraire, my dear friend." Theo smirked. "I have a feeling their date might just be the most exiting event of tomorrow."

The White Wyvern

11:45 p.m.

The White Wyvern was a place where every man like him ended up at. The building was old and decrepit, held up by magic as the structure had turned inefficient decades ago. Its windows, cracked and broken, peering into the dirty, mould covered walls of the pub inside. As he stared around the room, looking at the lowest form of delinquents, whores, and lowlifes from the nearby towns, he recalled those same faces crossing the halls of the Manchester Institute of Magic, fighting for their future as they excelled in all forms of magic presented to them.

A child's fantasy, it took only for them to turn sixteen before they realised the harsh truth. Unless you were Merlin reborn, the likelihood of ending in this pub, hanging around the people you used to not take your eyes off when you were crossing the street late at night, was incredibly high. And if it wasn't in this one, it would be in some other pub of the sort across the country.

There was a sense of nostalgia finally entering the pub after four years abroad, a chaos-filled trip paid with the insurance money of his poor dead parents. Romania, Germany, Egypt, Afghanistan, and Russia - a knowledge-filled journey where he learned more than any bullshit teaching at his Ministry school. The people he met changed his life, the criminal underworld of the various countries gave him an opportunity to finally unleash a bit of his inner mania onto others. And he got paid for it!

And to think he ever considered applying to a Ministry job, as if they'd ever accept someone like him.

But as all good things do, as the insufferable sticking feeling on his shoe reminded him, his trip had come to an end. For as fun as his escapades had been, they hadn't been… fulfilling. There was just something missing about it, but he couldn't quite place what was missing. The DMLE had caught onto him soon after he checked out his parent's insurance money, something that was surprising. Who would've thought those fuckers kept up with what was going on with the Muggle world.

The police investigation had led towards him as the clear suspect, and somehow the twats inside the DMLE must've had some snitch inside the police because it didn't take long for them to come knocking down his door. His escape from Britain, while poorly planned, had been successful regardless of its minor setbacks. But he knew he couldn't return with the same name. Thankfully, his Russian comrade had been kind enough to provide him with his own. Stuck six feet under, he was sure he wouldn't need it anymore. Some simple forgeries of his documents as well as a few cosmetic changes was all it took.

Antonin Dolohov went unnoticed by the Aurors as he re-entered Britain.

He had no qualms leaving behind his muggle-born heritage, there was nothing left for him back in the muggle world. Besides, there would be some advantages at adopting a pure-blood identity. The Dolohovs were one of the oldest and largest pure-blood families in Russia, that would bring some respect to his name in the country, open up doors that had been sealed by his blood status. He had no intention of become some white collar, pansy arse at the Ministry, pushing papers for some spoiled arsehole that got his job from one of his daddy's friends - but connections with powerful people were invaluable, especially given his purpose for coming back home.

The Dark Lord had returned. He had heard stories about him, about his power, about the world that he wanted to create. As a muggle-born, he had missed out on the days of the war, not being introduced to the wizarding world until a couple of years after he had been defeated. A cruel twist of fate in his teenage mind, such a missed opportunity, to live in a free world. But he was back, despite being killed, he had returned. Whispers of it flooded Russia's underworld before the summer had ended, and he was sure they weren't the only ones. All of Europe had to be aware, Lord Voldemort had returned.

The British Ministry had denied it, Cornelius Fudge had tainted the reputations of the old man Dumbledore and the Longbottom brat just to silence them. But even through all his efforts, the word had spread to the right people. He wasn't the only one returning home, the only one trying to fight for a place beside the Dark Lord, as he destroyed the chains binding every single witch and wizard to the Ministry of Magic. Their fate determined from the day they were born, regardless of skill and talent, the wealthy and powerful forcing everyone to become their servants, brainwashing them to not even notice how they are being controlled. Minuscule cogs of a large machine designed to keep the power in the hands of the politicians and millionaires who had remained there for centuries and centuries without anyone doing anything.

The Dark Lord would destroy that, would unleash a world where everyone was the same, where the people that survived were the ones with the guts, the skills, the power, and the ruthlessness to do what it takes. People called him a bigot, an oppressor of Muggle-borns, but they were wrong, propagandized by the Ministry controlled media to vilify him. The Dark Lord was their saviour, they would get the chance to be more free with him in power than with the Wizengamot and the likes of Fudge.

Oh, there was no denying there was bigotry in the ranks of the Death Eaters, but the Dark Lord understood something few people in this age did. The value of a person didn't come from their heritage or their wealth. In a world without laws, the most powerful person was the one who wasn't constrained by their moral principles and wishy-washy teachings of kindness and forgiveness, people ruled by what they called… sanity - a prison created by their own minds after generations of conditioning. The Dark Lord would see him for who he was, and he'd accept him, for he knew there was no fooling someone like him. But he'll fool the other Death Eaters with it, the bigots and snobs who attribute power to blood-status, a show of strength will be all he needs to get a spot in their ranks.

And after that, he'd climb the ladder of succession, as he had done over and over again during his travels. All he needed… was the right opportunity. Which was why he was back in the White Wyvern.

They came near midnight, a group of three men in hooded cloaks, their faces shrouded in darkness. Immediately, the pub turned silent, a wave of fear and seriousness filled it as they gained everyone's attention without speaking a word. One of the men, the one in the centre, stepped to the middle of the room, looking around carefully. He turned to him, and Dolohov could feel the eyes behind the hood penetrating into his own. He smiled back at him, wickedly, but waited for whoever it was to speak.

"There is a job," he finally spoke, his voice distorted. "Half a dozen men, fifteen hundred galleons each."

The response was immediate, ten men, all tall and bulky, their eyes screaming murder, stood up, awaiting a response from the man in the cloak. Fifteen hundred galleons wasn't a lot of money, but to people here, it was a small fortune. One by one, the man in the cloak picked out the six men he enlisted for the job. As he did so, Dolohov watched intently who the men were, who they were sitting with - if they were alone or with mates - and he found his target. A black-haired gentleman, taller than all the others, but who came alone.

He smiled.

"Excuse me," he spoke loudly, standing from his chair before making his way towards the circle of men that had grouped up with the cloaked figures, making sure to stand beside his target. "I'd like to join your crew."

"Walk away, ginger," one of the other hooded men told him dismissively. "The quota is filled, there's no space for you."

"Ah," he shrugged. "Oh, well."

But before anyone could react, he turned, snatching his wand from his pocket and stabbing it into the man's left eye. He screamed in pain, trying to reach for his wand, but Dolohov overpowered him, pushing his weight onto him until they both toppled to the ground. Laying on top of him, Dolohov jammed the wand deeper inside before casting a silent reductor curse. Half of his head exploded, showering him and some of the nearby men with blood and brain parts.

The pub was deadly quiet, Dolohov jumped up giddily, turning around to face the hooded figure that had so easily dismissed him. With two fingers, he cleaned his right eye that had gotten showered with blood, not breaking eye contact as he licked it clean off.

"I believe a spot just opened up." He began cackling madly, unnerving everyone around the room, as he kept on going. His cackles turned into loud, maniacal laughing that came from his very soul.

Nobody attacked him, that was the funny part. Nobody tried to even stand up to him as the hooded figure in the centre accepted him into the ranks and informed him of his mission. These people were supposed to be just as hungry as him, as resentful and angry as him. These were criminals, thugs, and killers, and yet, they were staring at him as if he weren't one of them. Even his own crew mates.

Disgust and pity flowed through him as he stared at the shameful lot. Britain had lost its character, filled with weak people who had become copies of copies of themselves, lost of real personality or balls, no hunger or ambition, they would be nothing more than worthless servants of the Dark Lord as he stood by his side and gave Britain the chaos it sorely needed.

That's it for this chapter! Thank you all for reading!

As a quick sidenote, I realised I fucked up with how I did the galleon calculations in the early chapters, so, for reference, a galleon in this universe is worth around a dollar, maybe a bit less, since I fucked up with the numbers in the early chapters, and I'm too lazy to go back and fix it.

This marks the last stand-alone chapter before the next arc, A Long Day At Hogsmeade begins, and it's one I've been excited about for a while. Mystery, action, romance, many questions will be answered and even more will be raised as Harry has one hell of a day ;)

By the time I'm posting this, I'm two chapters ahead and will begin to post them weekly on FFN and AO3, but if you want to learn how to get early access to them join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT.

Also, I urge you to go check out the fic Who Is Harry James Potter? By Tayeisnotamused. A Neville BWL story where Harry grows up to be a spoiled arse who gets his life turned upside down by the war. This is a fic that has nuanced characters and the potential for great character development and an original plot. I can't recommend it enough!

As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)