CHAPTER 43: United in Grief (Part 6)

May 1993

He was panting, gasping for breath as he ran through the enveloping darkness.

He couldn't see anything, hear anything.

Where was he?

How did he get here?

Those questions never stayed in his mind for long, as they were overtaken with a sense of overwhelming dread. He needed to run, to get as far away as he could. He'd been running for hours - maybe even days - trapped in empty darkness with no end.

The air around him was diminishing with every second, so much that at points, it felt as if it was being stolen from his very lungs. The fact that he was running wasn't helping, leaving him with his head pulsating in pain, his legs tired - barely carrying his body - as he felt on the verge of losing consciousness.

"You can't win," a soft voice spoke from behind him, and Harry quickly turned. His eyes struggled to adjust to the figure in front of him - and for a moment, he thought it was Tom. But before long, the boy in front of him was one that had haunted many of his nightmares. Curly black hair and a Slytherin tie shining against the white shirt, with a bloody knife in his right hand - Graham Montague stood before him.

Only… different. This was not the same boy who had tormented him last year, nor even the memory of him that had stayed in his dreams. His eyes were vibrant red, a deeply unnerving colour, and his features seemed just a bit off.

But even then, he would never forget the sight of Graham Montague.

"Still haven't learnt your lesson, have you?"

Without a wand or weapon, Harry could do nothing but glare back at the boy as their surroundings began changing. The empty darkness quickly being replaced in flashes of various interchanging colours, slowly giving Harry a familiar palette.

"You don't scare me anymore."

"Oh," the boy giggled. "But I do. I can see it, every time we cross paths across the hall, every little flinch you give when you almost think of moving your hand to sooth your back. My presence has forced you to remember… it is unwise not to fear your betters."

"You're not my better," Harry growled. "You'll end up just like your parents. I'll make sure of that."

"Such bravado," Montague mocked. "It's cute, to see someone so vulnerable pretend to be anything else. Pathetic, really, but amusing nonetheless. You can try to keep this up, exclude yourself before the others can exclude you, ruin relationships before they can fail you. Pretend to be everything you are not, act like the tough guy you always wished you could be. But that won't change you, not really. Deep down, you will always be that scared little kid that cried for help as I carved his back and laughed."

"You- you're wrong!"

"Feelings," Montague scoffed, his face twisting, looking less like himself by the second. He began moving forward, forcing Harry to unconsciously back up as he kept his distance from the man before him. "That was always your biggest weakness. As hard as you tried, you could never truly rid yourself of them. Of your need for acceptance from others, of how much you truly want to be loved. Weak. Pitiful." He kept twisting, his features becoming more gaunt, snake-like, as his fingers stretched and his body turned pale. "You disgust me. You and your… sentimentality."

The person - creature - staring at him was no longer Graham. It was a man, young - sixteen or seventeen at most. He had straight black hair that, while pristinely combed, looked rotten, dying, with some of it having fallen off leaving bald spots on the top of his head. His face turned gaunt, no fat on his cheeks as the square-face had turned more like an oval. His eyes shining red and nose larger and pointier. His skin looked like it was almost peeling off, its tone turned fully white.

The creature looked at him with distaste, baring its yellow, falling teeth as he sneered.

"You're just as pathetic as I was."

The Great Hall

December 17th, 1995

9:15 a.m.

It had been months since the Great Hall had looked so lively. December had been an uneventful month for the students of Hogwarts. Without any grand attack or great tragedy in over thirty days, the novelty of trauma had faded away, replaced by the urge of passing the final exams and debating as to who would win the Quidditch cup this year. Leaving the ones who were truly impacted by the events to mourn in silence, finally free from the hypocrisy and sham that had plagued the hallways and classrooms of the castle.

The last exams had ended on Friday, and with the teachers still having one week to grade the exams and the final assignments of the term, the students were left to roam free. Even Umbridge had lowered her strictness because of this, opening up the rec room - that had been previously been banned by her - as well as allowing the students to roam around the grounds and halls without a teacher, prefect, or member of the Inquisitorial Squad accompanying them. She had even opened up trips to Hogsmeade for the remainder of their stay at Hogwarts until the Winter Break.

Wands were still to remain inside their holsters at all time, students were still forced to constantly be in uniform, and there were various activities that did require teacher supervision - such as Quidditch practices or pickup games. And it did increase the burden on the Inquisitorial Squad, who Umbridge had personally charged with remaining on the lookout for any trouble, to avoid staying inside and roam the halls and grounds with their peers. However, given the past four months, nobody complained about this.

"The term is over," Umbridge had simply told him when he questioned her over this sudden change. "You children have met all your responsibilities as students of Hogwarts for the term. Don't you feel that warrants a reward, Mister Potter?"

Of course, taken at face value, it made sense. Classes were over, there was no curriculum to enforce anymore, and Umbridge's Educational Decrees had created a much safer space inside the castle. Duels and fights between students had completely stopped overnight, harassment had also declined, though it had changed into a psychological warfare rather than a physical or magical one. To release the leash for a week, to test the waters as to how the student body would react to it, was a logical move for Umbridge to pull.

However, there was still something off about it. As much as he hated to admit it, Umbridge was smarter than she let herself seem. She had managed to climb to the spot of Senior Undersecretary for the Minister for Magic and the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, after all. A witch from a half-blood family with achievements like those wasn't likely to be dense, especially someone with views and moves as polarizing as hers.

And it showed, in less than two months, the school went from hating her completely to being a massive divide between the students and even the faculty about her. There was no doubt in Harry's mind this wasn't coincidental or unintended. Sure, the attack at the Three Broomsticks and his confrontation with Montague were the biggest things she used to benefit herself, and she wasn't involved in either of them - at least to his knowledge. But it was her actions after that, her cool nature under major scrutiny from everyone in the castle, as well as the results of her Educational Decrees speaking for themselves that managed to give her a following of students.

It wasn't just him who had been noticing, various other students from all the houses picked up on that as well. Those who were socially astute or were just highly sceptical and cynical about everything. Many Slytherins had grown to respect her over the past few months, but none as much as Blaise.

"I'm surprised she's not a Slytherin," he had told them the previous Tuesday while the six of them were having lunch at the Great Hall. "Someone as masterful at social climbing as her, it's shocking, truly."

"She's not a Slytherin?" Daphne had asked.

"Nope," Blaise grinned, a wicked amusement behind his lips. "According to mother, she was a Puff!"

Ever since the meeting with the Gryffindors in the Room of Requirement, Daphne, Draco, and Blaise had stuck to the three of them once again. He could see all of them still wary of him, Blaise especially, though it seemed they had finally come to the conclusion it was better to befriend him rather than oppose him.

Blaise's attitude against him had diminished considerably, though he could still see distaste clear in the boy's eyes, he wasn't sparking any open confrontation anymore. Draco had taken the opposite approach, trying to integrate with him, Pansy, and Theo as much as he could, constantly snitching information he'd picked about other students.

Daphne… was a complicated manner. He couldn't stop feeling as the air thickened around him every time she was with the group. They had barely glanced looks at each other, and avoided speaking completely, something that Theo and Blaise had slowly been picking up on. Still, even through all this she was constantly with them, sitting near the group in class and having breakfast, lunch, and dinner with them. While annoying, Harry was mostly thankful she hadn't made a scene or brought the topic back again.

He couldn't spare the time for that conversation.

They were sitting together at the Great Hall, having an amiable breakfast with the other four Slytherins. Pansy and Theo were sitting to each of his sides, with Draco right in front of him, Daphne on his left and Blaise on his right. It was a muted conversation they were having, small talk used to fill the gaps between each bite as the hall rippled with excitement for the upcoming holidays.

Sometime near the middle of breakfast, Umbridge stood from her seat. The sound of her chair dragging on the stone floor echoing across the hall, immediately quieting any conversations as every student waited with uneasy eagerness. Every one of her steps clattered against the floor, even the staff members paid their full attention to her as she placed herself in front of the golden podium Dumbledore had exclusively used in the previous years.

She cleared her throat before speaking. "With only three days left before Winter Break officially begins, I'd like to offer a hand of applause to all of you, children, for the incredible effort you've dedicated to your classes over the past four months."

A good portion of the student body began clapping, with more joining soon after, as Umbridge gave them a smile that warped her face into an unnatural shape and waited for them to finish.

"This new curriculum you were subjected to during this first term of the year was an experimental test from the Ministry, one we've also applied at our Ministry funded schools. It is a much more intensive course with the goal of reducing schooling time and optimizing the time you spend at Hogwarts. Spending time with your family, especially during the holidays, is incredibly important for the development of the young mind. It saddens me deeply how much distance is gained between children and their parents or guardians during their schooling years, and specially over the past year, when most of you stayed in the castle for the Yule Ball. Because of this belief, and the excellent results you children have shown us with this new curriculum, that I am proud to announce that these winter holidays will be longer than what you're used to."

Harry's head raised at that, inching to the edge of his seat - and he wasn't the only one who did.

"Second term of this year of schooling will not begin until early February-" the Great Hall exploded into a cacophony of loud mutterings, but Umbridge continued. "Children, if they so wish, will still be allowed to remain in the castle over that period of time - though it is heavily encouraged for you to return home and spend time with your families. The train back to Hogwarts will be scheduled for the first of the month at eleven in the morning. Thank you all for your effort over this term, I wish you all have a joyous holiday season!"

The conversations only loudened as Umbridge stepped away from the podium and began walking out of the Great Hall. At that exact moment, a parliament of owls swooped from above and began dropping packages and letters to students all around the hall. Loud hoots and exclamations of excitement blended with the loud yelling from the students, as a beautiful chaos ensued within the hall.

Harry didn't have time to fully appreciate it, though, as an envelope suddenly crashed against his face, eliciting laughter from the Slytherins around him. Daphne especially seemed to take an increased amusement out of it.

"Ha. Ha." He rolled his eyes, before snatching the letter from the table, his eyes seeking out the owl that had attacked him but finding no conclusive answer in the mayhem above. Shaking his head, he turned back to the envelope, his gaze immediately landing on the large, red wax seal with a bold W adorning it.

He turned to look at Theo and Pansy, both unabashedly showing their interest for the contents of the envelope. His assumptions gleamed clearly in their eyes.

Wizengamot.

Discreetly opening the envelope, Harry pulled out the letter within.

Dear Mister Potter,

You have been summoned to the Winter Wizengamot session - taking place December 21st, 1995. Please present yourself to the Ministry of Magic on the assigned date by seven in the morning, where someone will assign you to your seat in the VIP viewing box.

Sturgis Podmore

Head of the Wizengamot Administration Services

This was it, Bedivere's plot coming to fruition. Harry smirked at the thought, an extended winter holiday. One where he was emancipated. One where he was away from Umbridge and anyone else trying to stop him from hunting down the bastard that had sent Dolohov and killing him - avenging Susan.

A joyous holiday season indeed.

The Hopping Pot

December 19th, 1995

8:30 a.m.

The door to the tavern creaked as he opened it, revealing a mass of empty tables, with a lone bartender tiredly fixing up the bottles of alcohol and wine that adorned the backside of the bar, hidden behind the glass.

It was especially early. The village, even with Umbridge allowing them to visit without much supervision from her so long as they returned before dinner, was empty. With the villagers just waking up and the town activities barely starting, no wonder the meeting had been set for this hour. It was a sign of intelligence that the meeting had been set in the least visited pub of the village, at the emptiest hour.

But it was just what he should have expected of Elijah Montague.

It was easy to find his quarry in the vacantness of the establishment. Elijah Montague had always looked much older than his years, He had inherited the Montagues' family aristocratic features, leaving a handsome face to draw the attention away from the man's lifeless gray eyes, eternally dull but never artless - holding your gaze to his was like staring straight into a consuming abyss. He was dressed in a fine set of modern black and gray robes, with a white shirt peering from underneath them. With a fag stuck between his two lips and a flat cap covering his short hair, Elijah Montague stared expectantly at him from across the other side of the room.

A sudden feeling of hurry washed over him, forcing him to hurry over the room and stand in front of the sitting man, hand extended in greeting.

"You're late, Mister Warrington," Elijah spoke without even glancing at him, taking a puff of his cigarette before finally removing it from his mouth with his right hand.

Biting down on the apology that his mouth tried to force out, Cassius replied, "I got held back. Filch searches us for contraband whenever we attempt to enter or leave the castle."

"Then you should have anticipated such an act and left earlier," Elijah answered without a shred of emotion in his tone. "It is unwise to leave a person waiting, especially when you were the one seeking a meeting."

"I apologize," the words left his mouth before he could even think.

"Now… what could the heir of House Warrington deem so important as to ask for a meeting with me right before winter's break? Any and all debts my house might owe yours have been paid in full."

"I do not seek any house business with you. As far as I'm concerned, our families are closer than allies. And even if there was something to discuss, it would be my father who would breach the topic."

Elijah, did not look amused. Staring coldly at him before taking another puff from his cigarette, the command to speak his business was clear for anyone to hear.

"We have a common enemy."

"And who might that be?"

"Harry Potter."

The words impacted the older Montague, his eyebrows slightly raising as he dropped the ash in a rectangular, glass ashtray near his side of the table.

"You were there," Elijah said rather than asked. "The night my brother was murdered. You know."

"I do, but I wasn't there that night. Graham was killed while I was still in the infirmary from my previous confrontation with Potter. However, the events are common knowledge in the Slytherin dungeons. While no one outright speaks it, everyone is aware of Potter's involvement in the murder. Over the past month and a half, he has dominated the house through the sheer fear he still instils upon the other Slytherins. Even those who've attempted to earn more support from other Slytherins haven't dared to make open moves against Potter."

"I do not have the time or care to focus on whatever power schemes you're intending to execute against Potter for house superiority, Mister Warrington-"

"It's not house dominance that I'm after," he said firmly. "I'm looking for justice. Potter must pay for what he did to Graham. Or are you truly telling me you haven't got any plots against Potter for his crimes against your family?"

There was a long silence as Elijah's cold eyes searched him. He avoided his gaze, staring at any part of the man's face that wasn't his eyes. But Elijah made no move to speak, as he merely kept smoking his cigarette. Near half a minute passed before Cassius finally turned his sight to the gray eyes analysing him, immediately feeling naked under their scrutiny. It was a paradoxical sensation, the feeling of wanting to break eye contact while your body kept staring straight at him. People had often spoken of the eyes being the windows to the soul, and that statement had never felt truer as he stared deep into Elijah's eyes and was met with a wintry emptiness.

"You intend to murder the boy?" Elijah asked him calmly, breaking him from his trance.

"I do."

"Then why are you seeking out my help?"

"Potter… he's a dangerous foe. You've heard about him, I'm certain, about how he handled the six men sent to murder him. I've seen it first-hand, in my foolishness, I attempted to strike an insolent boy and was met with a ruthless wand as I was forced to stare at the eyes of Death. Even without Umbridge's laws against the use of magic within Hogwarts, Harry Potter is not an enemy you can defeat on a battlefield."

"On that, I fully agree with you." Elijah said, a bit of emotion finally colouring his tone as he straightened up and squashed what remained of his cigarette against the table. "Which is why we're not going to face him in a duel."

"We're not?"

"A man of the wand, Potter would have the advantage regardless of the situation. Neither you nor I can match his skill. But his skill is only worth something if we give him a chance to use it. When I kill Harry Potter, I'll make sure he doesn't even have the chance to raise his wand at me."

Gryffindor Common Room

December 20th, 1995

11:45 p.m.

As he lay on the ground with his back to the couch, Neville's eyes were fixed upon the fire only a few feet away from him. Its cackling blended with the sound of a quill scratching on a piece of parchment, and the occasional move of a chess piece.

The late hour had scared off every kid in the tower, nearing midnight, it was no wonder everyone was already fast asleep. On any other day, he would be joining them… but not today. The last thing he wanted was to sleep, something that wasn't rare on any other day, but today was different.

It had been his last day at Hogwarts for the term, his last day to roam the grounds with his friends before he boarded the train back home on Friday morning - his Thursday fully occupied by his responsibilities of having to attend the Winter Wizengamot meeting.

And for the first time in his five years, he was excited to leave, excited to escape from Umbridge's hold, escape from her constant tortures for telling the truth. Escaping the harassment from the other students, the way the wizarding world had branded him a liar, the way his name had been slandered, his life turned into a living hell because he dared speak the truth. Dared stand against the man who murdered his parents, his friends, even himself, if he hadn't managed to escape him through sheer luck.

Even his classmates, who attended the DA, asked him for help - he could see it behind their eyes. The way they judged him, the way they would gladly bully him if they didn't need him to teach them. Some hadn't even bothered with him, going straight to Potter for help. Going for a murderer's help.

His parents had been murdered at an early age, he couldn't even remember them. Couldn't remember their voice, their smiles, couldn't remember them ever even looking at him. Their loss was much more of a hole that would never be filled than anything he truly mourned. Any type of hatred that he may have had against Voldemort for killing his parents wasn't truly authentic, it was fabricated on the concept of what his life could have been. Because the truth was, he didn't know his parents, would never know them, and it was near impossible to mourn a person - a life - when all you know about it are succinct stories told to him by his grandmother whenever she wanted him to stop pestering her about them.

The murder of Viktor and Cedric left him too frightened to truly gain any hatred towards Voldemort. It was a night that still haunted him every night, reminding him of his failure to protect his friends, his stupidity by accepting Viktor's proposal to do the task as a team. He could still feel them near, their gazes watching him as he sat and did nothing while more Death Eaters murdered more of his classmates. Their weight, perhaps even greater than the one he'd endured from letting his friends die because he was useless in that battle… but Harry Potter wasn't.

Harry Potter. The arsehole that suddenly began attacking him and Ron this year out of nowhere, even when they had saved his life from the diary. The arsehole that began socialising with the sons and daughters of Death Eaters the moment Voldemort returned. The arsehole that had wormed his way into the DA, and then taking away the Room of Requirement from them because he decided to join Umbridge. The murderer who killed another classmate in cold blood, and crippled plenty of others. The one person in the world Neville could say he'd truly grown to hate.

He'd never forget that day, forget Hermione's frightful face as the man had his arm around her neck and his wand on her temple. The images of her, bleeding out on the ground in between the ghastly corpses of Ginny and Ron. Reliving the same thing that had haunted him the whole summer because he hadn't been good enough, had decided to sulk and cry about his shitty life rather than preparing for the upcoming fight. And if it hadn't been for Potter, his magical ability to suddenly apparate even as a fifth-year, and his unnatural reflexes that made him a duelling monster - that scene could've very well become a reality.

It had been Potter that saved his friends as he was paralysed by shock, Potter who protected the other students from Dolohov's mania as he barely managed to hold his own against two Death Eater lackeys. Potter, who had easily taken out the threat once he, had stopped trying to save everyone and went straight for the kill.

The funerals in the preceding week had been hell, but one he'd entered voluntarily. Attending every single one of them with his grandmother, watching first-handedly as families wept over their dead child, enduring the blame some of them gave him with their eyes, while others outright shouted it at his face.

"It was your fault!" He could still hear the sobs of Aster Graves, mother of little Polly Graves - a third-year Hufflepuff whose entire middle had been cut off by a stray cutting curse, leaving her to bleed out on the ground as her intestines left her body. "Y-You're fault! You killed my daughter!"

His own grandmother didn't stand up for him, didn't even bother to give him any words of comfort. And why would she?

They weren't wrong.

He deserved it. Every weeping mother, every furious father. The glares and stares from every person at the funeral as they buried the child he couldn't save. It was his punishment, what he'd earned from his inaction, from his lacking skill, from his inadequacy as the consequences of the war truly showed themselves to him.

All the while, Potter was given praise by the Daily Prophet. Whole articles written about his courageous and impressive action against the attackers. It was within these articles that Neville himself had been branded as the Boy Who Failed, a pretender, a fake saviour. Earning him hundreds of hate-filled letters and countless resentful glares every single day. Professor Dumbledore hadn't fared better, being ridiculed as well. The article outright calling him senile, unfit to even be the Headmaster of Hogwarts, while also justifying the actions of the Wizengamot and the ICW when they took away Dumbledore's positions and titles.

It was Potter who was loved.

Potter, who could've saved all the lost lives if he hadn't stopped caring about the bystanders and protected them. Potter, who brutally murdered the men, without any hint of remorse or leaving them any chance of surrender. Potter, who was the reason those men were even at the Three Broomsticks to begin with.

It was sickening, the praise he received from half the student body. And while not everyone bought into the bullshit printed by the Ministry, Potter still got plenty of support and grateful looks as he sulked about the corridors and glared at anyone who even dared to stand near him. It was through those brutal attacks that Potter had climbed from being a foul-mouthed nobody to one of the most revered people in the castle. He and Umbridge, who'd both used the tragedies left in their wake to reap the opportunities, uncaring as they climbed through bloody rocks.

There was an audible snap, and without warning, the fire turned into a massive blaze. Erupting upwards as the whole fireplace was basked in the vibrant blue flames - eliciting a massive heatwave within moments.

"Neville!" Hermione screeched, and suddenly, it stopped. The flame shrank back to its normal size, the blue coloured flames quickly replaced back with the warm orange and yellow colours.

"Mate…" Ron's hesitant voice sounded far away, as the rage that had seeped out of him only moments ago was beginning to consume him once more.

"Fuck Potter," he spat, the words coming from deep within his chest, before he stood up and began pacing around the room.

"Oh, Neville," Hermione said softly, her voice filled with woe and pity.

"What?" His head snapped at her, and for a moment, she seemed hesitant.

"He's gonna get what's coming to him… someday. You know that, don't you?"

Neville barked a hollow laugh. "You can't possibly believe that. He's gotten away with how many murders? Fucking hell, even Sirius told me that there were people in the Order supporting him and his actions."

"Moody?" Ron scoffed. "Dung? Nev, mate, of course those wankers support Potter. They're just as barmy as him."

"Oh, honestly Neville, the Order is nothing more than a vigilante group," she sniffed. "You can't possibly take their views seriously. I can't believe Dumbledore even thought about resorting to breaking the law to fight against V- You-Know-Who."

"What did you expect?" Ron snapped at her. "This is a war, Hermione, You-Know-Who has his Death Eaters, without the Order, there would be no opposition."

"There's the DMLE!" She retorted hotly. "The Ministry. Fighting the Death Eaters was never something that required a secret society that's renowned for being just as violent and callous as the Death Eaters. However, was it a good idea to begin a vigilante group that became as hunted by the Aurors as You-Know-Who's army itself?"

"You can't possibly be that naive! The Order saved lives!"

"Enough!" Neville roared, immediately shutting up his two friends as his hands vibrated with anger. "The Order doesn't bloody matter, it's fucking Potter. Who the fuck is this guy? He doesn't do or say anything for years, and all of a sudden, he's the best dueller at Hogwarts! He knows how to bloody apparate! Everyone suddenly fucking loves him!"

"I… I don't know," Hermione shrugged helplessly. "I've tried researching about him, but it's not like there are books written on him. The people I ask don't know anything either, all we really know about him is that he's a Slytherin in our year who was friends with Montague before they had a big falling out. We know from Ginny that V- You-Know-Who chose him to be the person he wanted to fully possess with the diary…"

"That's it?" Ron asked incredulously. "Don't we know anything else about this bastard?"

"Apart from Sirius and Lupin really hating him and the Aurors investigating him heavily for the Montague thing… no." Hermione faltered, a slight indignation crossing her eyes. "We really don't know much about him."

Neville crushed his fingers into his palm. "Who the fuck is this guy?"

He was met with silence, and an eerily intense look from Hermione, who seemed deep in thought.

That's it for this chapter - and with it the end of the United in Grief arc. Thank you all for reading!

I'm a bit dissatisfied with it, if I'm honest, as I feel that it was a bit rushed. With the benefit of hindsight, I'd change a few things - but it would mostly revolve around adding interactions between the Slytherin Six.

Nevertheless, even while slightly dissatisfied, I'm happy with the end result overall.

Next chapter will begin the arc titled The King's Gambit, and it's a big one. By the time I'm posting this, I'm three chapters ahead and have finished writing the full arc. If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

I'm also working on two fanfiction related surprises that should be revealed fairly soon! (Maybe?) More info on that on discord as well!

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