CHAPTER 69: Irreconcilable Differences (Part 1)

Swinley Forest

1:30 p.m.

Harry could still remember the first time he felt rage. Not the childish, naive anger that came out of being bullied by your cousin for years on end or finding out the person he had considered his best friend - his only friend - had been pretending all along. It was the rage that ate at you every second of the day, the kind you could feel in your chest as it made your heart heavy and your throat burn. Never arresting or allowing respite, always there like a sickness that could not be cured. A wound on your soul that would never truly be able to heal.

It had been the day after Halloween. He had forced himself up from the ground as his back kept bleeding, and his tears kept streaming, and gone to his dormitory as if nothing had happened. He had showered, the water and soap making it feel as though his wound had been set ablaze, something he realized then and there would not change even as the days passed. He forced himself to put on a brave face and set aside his fear that Montague would come after him again, or that a teacher would discover his wound and blame him. But that hadn't happened. There were no concerned teachers or curious students interested enough in him to wonder about his suddenly muted and distant demeanour. He wasn't afraid for long that anyone would find out. The Slytherins had kept on mocking him, humiliating him, and in some cases even attacking him with tripping jinxes and pus-squirting hexes. And the teachers… well… Snape had made sure he would never show weakness in their presence again.

He had just been mutilated not twenty-four hours ago and no one had cared. And they never would. Not unless it was him retaliating against those who attacked him first. Not unless it was him defending himself after being drugged, kidnapped and tortured. When he did whatever it took to survive, he was suddenly the villain. After everyone had tossed him aside and told him he wasn't worth it, now they cared. Now they were horrified. Now they thought about the victims and punished those who hurt people.

That was what had brought him his first real bout of rage. When he had finally understood what it was like to be truly angry, to feel the impotence and hatred and bitterness all at once. And once he had felt it, he couldn't stop. Every time someone talked or turned to look at him. It didn't matter. He'd be angry at their loudness. He'd be angry at their silence. He'd be angry at their presence. He'd be angry at their absence. He'd be angry at his anger. At their passiveness. Their joy. Their simple lives. He'd be angry it was snowing and angry it was sunny. He'd be angry because he didn't know what else to feel.

Even now, as he sat against one of the thousands of trees deep within Swinely forest with his face sticky and his white shirt covered in reddish-brown spots, his hands shook with it. The overpowering feeling of rage that had consumed him hours ago and still refused to let him go. That still didn't feel satiated even after beating Black halfway to death. Even if he had killed him, if he had gone upstairs and killed everyone in the house, it wouldn't have stopped. Which is exactly why he did. Why he'd had to force himself to.

He remembered every moment, it played in his head over and over again. The rage, the ferocity with which he had beat up Black. But more than that it was the feeling of power it had brought him. How intoxicating it was. How with every punch he threw he had felt stronger, he'd felt the anger and pain go away even if only for a second. There had been few things in his life as satisfying as that moment. Hearing Black moaning in pain, his fists connecting with his face and body had produced the most cathartic sounds. It was all too much. He could have kept going. He'd wanted to keep going for as long as he could, until Black had stopped breathing and his corpse had rotted right through.

It would have never been enough.

Until suddenly he was snapped out of it. Clarity had flowed into him for a brief second as he'd sat on top of Black, blood dripping from his hands as he'd stared at the disfigured mess he had turned his face into. And at that moment, he hadn't seen Black under his fists. He had seen Michael. He'd seen Theo. Pansy. Ginny. Mrs Weasley. All of them were battered and bruised, with the blood dripping into their empty eye-socket as they looked up at him in fear.

He'd seen himself looking up in fear.

It had only been for a second. A trick of the light. His mind playing games with him. But he couldn't unsee it. And even as he had tried to continue, to forget, he couldn't. His body yearned for it, but in his mind it had become tainted. Because if he had kept going, if he had kept striking until his anger was satiated, and he moved onto the next bastard like Black, then they would be the ones under there. Eventually. Once the intoxicating feeling became so overpowering that he stopped caring about who was under his feet so long as it made him feel good.

Because fuck if it didn't feel good. If it hadn't taken all his strength to not kill him then and there. He hadn't said a word since. Not to Regulus or Kreacher. He'd simply carved off Walburga's canvas from the frame once more, ignoring her cries of anger, before dumping it in some empty room, grabbing his stuff, and flooing out of Grimmauld. He'd apparated around London until he reached its outskirts and took shelter deep within Swinely forest, with Kreacher's wards protecting him from anyone trying to find him as he simply sat down and stared into the fire in front of him.

His stomach grumbled and his shoulders shivered, but he maintained a stoic face. For hours on end he'd sat there, losing himself in his own mind for so long that he almost didn't recognize the familiar sound of an owl above him. His owl. David was up there, hovering above the trees with a stack of envelopes in his mouth, as if waiting for Harry to look upwards.

"Don't you-" But the bird didn't care, it dropped all the envelopes without even bothering to lower itself a bit. They staggered downwards, a couple of them landing on his face, while the rest made a circle around him - some nearly falling into the fire. "Bloody fucking cunt!" Harry spluttered out, violently ripping the envelopes from his face before he grabbed a rock from the floor, leapt to his feet, and threw it at the owl. But David saw it coming and managed to move out of the way right before the stone hit him. It hooted angrily at him and fucked off before Harry could reach down for another rock.

"Blasted bird," he spat, dropping on the ground as he gathered the letters around him and looked through them.

There was one from Bedivere, though the note inside was empty. A curt yet cordial holiday greeting from Daphne, and one not so cordial from Blaise - though it was a hundred times less pissy than anything he'd said to him after the Montague shit. Three whole letters from Draco, larger and with more effort than any assignment he'd seen the boy do. He could only go through the first third of the first one, reading all the arse-licking and obvious desire to strengthen their friendship before Harry grabbed the six and tossed them into the fire, hoping it would keep it going for at least a minute longer.

The first one he saw on the other pile was from Michael. Harry could almost hear the flustered, out-of-breath tone with which the boy always spoke as he read the letter. He smiled as he read over Michael gushing about Mafalda, something he did constantly, and wondered when the boy would realise he had a crush on his friend. A tear formed in the corner of his eye when Michael wished him a happy Christmas and promised many sweets - which he'd force his parents to buy - for when the two saw each other back at Hogwarts. He stared at the parchment when he read those words, wondering how Michael must have felt as the weeks passed and he got no answer from him. How he would feel when he didn't see him at Hogwarts later in the day.

He gently laid the letter down beside him, refusing to think much about it as he began scouring the other seven letters. Four from Theo and three from Pansy, but they all seemed to have been written by the both of them together. They were all one big letter, and all combined to say the exact same thing.

Where are you? It's been a week now, and you haven't even answered my first letter. Pansy told me you haven't responded to her's either. Are you even getting them? Are the Longbottoms confiscating them? Just, please, answer us!

Potter, we just met with Flint, little Marcus' brother. According to him, you escaped the Longbottoms? What were you thinking, you blithering idiot? Just tell me where you are and we'll come and pick you up. Grandfather won't care about you crashing here at Parkinson Palace. Or if you can't meet, I'll just leave the address below. Just get here now!

Be careful out there, Harry. If Flint's right, then the Aurors are looking for you, and not just because you ran away. If Scrimgeour finds you, don't say anything! Flint says he'll tell us once Scrimgeour finds you, but we know you better than that. Just keep safe and alert, and please answer our letters. Don't be a moron.

We just heard the news, how did Dumbledore find you? Where were you? It was stupid to run away in the first place, who knows if there are more psychos like Dolohov trying to kill you? You don't get to be a brainless wanker anymore, especially with what happened at Azkaban earlier this month. Now that you're going back to Blackstone, just answer these fucking letters, you prat. Just send an empty note if you're actually alive and haven't been replaced by a polyjuiced clone.

I'm going to knock you on your arse tomorrow for being an arse all break. You've got Pansy and I losing our minds over here, I don't care anymore if it's your fault or not. We'll be seeing you tomorrow on the train, and you're telling us everything there. You don't get to hide away behind Blackstone anymore. In the meanwhile, be safe, don't do anything stupid, and please take care of yourself, will you?

Harry scrunched up the final letter with his hand, his eyes stinging and fist shaking. And once again he felt it, the pressure in his chest as the anger began overtaking him again. He threw the letter to the side and banged his head against the trunk, doing anything he could to try and stop it.

For a moment he considered it, apparating to Hogsmeade and meeting the two of them at the station. Explaining the mad series of events before joining them back at Hogwarts. Seeing Michael again and eating the promised sweets with him in a classroom. To share amused glances with Theo as Draco kept trying to get on his good side by being Slytherin's biggest arse-licker. To tolerate Pansy as she fussed over the OWLs and berated him and Theo for anything they did when she was in one of her moods. For a moment, he wished for nothing more than to go back to the simplicity that was conning the Gryffindors and trying to get Umbridge fired.

It was so tempting, his heart literally ached at his inaction. But he couldn't. Not after what had happened this morning. He didn't want to be anywhere near them. Didn't want them to be caught in his cross-hairs the next time he lost it and went berserk. Not Michael. Not Theo. Not Pansy. Because the next time it happened, once his anger took over, and he basked in the pain he dealt and the power it brought him, he wasn't so sure he would be able to snap out of it as he had with Black.

It took him a while, but now he realized Black was right all along. People like him, the monsters of this world, they'd never be normal. They would never have the chance to better themselves and live out the lives everyone else lead. There was no redemption for them, no way of ignoring that a part of them would always be the violent, bloodthirsty monster his life had turned him into. The best thing he could do was make sure he used his hatred on the right people, those who had hurt him and his family. Who would keep doing so until someone put them down… permanently. He may not be able to see his friends, but he could keep them safe. He could honour what Susan and his parents had asked of him.

It was his responsibility now.

Hogwarts Express

2:15 p.m.

"What are you doing?" Pansy hissed at him as he sneaked through the gap in the compartment door right before it was about to close. "I told you to stay put."

"Yeah, well, last time I checked, you're not my mum."

"I'm a prefect, I'm allowed to be roaming the Express. It's expected of me, actually. You-" she poked at him with her finger, "-are supposed to stay in your compartment."

"How am I supposed to go to the bathroom, then?" He asked innocently.

"Don't act daft," she rolled her eyes at him. "We've already checked this carriage, Potter isn't here. And you aren't allowed to go from carriage to carriage as you please."

"Not allowed?"

"It's frowned upon."

"There's no teacher here to frown at me!" He snapped.

"Can't you two troglodytes argue while we walk?" Draco drawled impatiently.

"Piss off," Theo smiled sardonically at him. Draco replied with the finger. "Look, Pansy, either I need to use the bathroom on the other side of the train because Crabbe stunk up this one, or because I'm an upstanding student looking to help out our Prefects. I'm getting to the other side of the train either way."

"You're unbearable."

"I'll take that as a: lead the way."

Over the first few months of fifth year, Theo and Harry had grown to laugh at every time Pansy got pissy or uptight about anything school-related. It was mostly harmless, and the two couldn't help but start a contest of who would make her lose her shit first. It became a fun game for the two of them to play around when they grew bored of talking about the DA and the Gryffindors or playing a couple of rounds of Gobstones. But right now it didn't serve to bring back fond memories of the times before murderers, prophecies, and child abductions disguised as adoptions. It only infuriated him more as they kept on wasting time.

Harry's lack of response had gotten to him more than it had to Pansy. She had always managed to keep her head clear of any emotional response as she analysed everything with logic. And though she seemed more irritated than anything as the days went by and Harry still didn't respond to their letters, he could sense it was affecting her more than it was letting on. But he wasn't like her. He couldn't help but feel his mind eat itself up with worry and helplessness at the whole situation.

He'd at least be somewhat calm if Harry would just let him know he was getting those letters, but the prat apparently couldn't even do that. Pansy had forced him to wait until after she was done with the Prefect's meeting, and when she returned, she said they'd go when she and Draco would do their rounds on the Express. And now, after over four hours of waiting, he wasn't going to let Pansy push him aside.

If Draco Malfoy was allowed to go, then so was he for fuck's sake.

So he walked ahead even as Pansy reproached him and Draco whined about his pace being too fast. They traversed the carriages, occasionally stopping to scold students who were loitering in the corridor or playing exploding snap across two opposite carriages. But through it all, they never saw Harry or Neville or anyone who might be found around them.

"He's not here," Theo said as they stepped into the second to last carriage.

"You're paranoid," Pansy told him, and he didn't have to look back to know she was rolling her eyes at him.

"What do you mean he's not here, Nott?" Draco asked haughtily. "Where else would he be?"

"Malfoy, for once, just shut your trap," Pansy said coldly.

"I'm just saying, he's probably in the last carriage with Longbottom, the Mudblood, and the poor one. They always hang about there."

"Are you sure?" Theo asked.

"They've hung out there since their first term here, honestly. Do you even pay attention?"

"We don't hang about Longbottom and his friends all the time," Pansy remarked. "We have our own lives outside their's."

"Whatever," he shrugged. "Anyway, does Potter ever answer his mail? I mean, I know he's never really had friends before, so maybe he doesn't understand how the whole thing works. But he does know he's expected to write back, right? It's only common courtesy. I sent him three letters over the break and got none in return. Did he ever get back to you two?"

Theo abruptly stopped in his tracks, causing both Draco and Pansy to bump into him. "Why'd you send him three letters? Wasn't one enough?"

"I'm trying to build a friendship here," Draco answered snobbishly. "Not all of us are lucky enough to have gotten involved with Potter right before he suddenly exploded in popularity. Some of us actually have to earn our place through hard work rather than just luck."

"You're taking the piss, right?

"Fucking muppet," Pansy shook her head in disbelief.

"What?"

"Have you ever had to make friends on your own, Draco? Or has your father bought them all for you first?"

"I don't care for what you're implying-"

"Oh, shut it, you daft git." Theo snapped before letting out a long sigh. "Honestly. It's clear to the whole fucking castle you only want to be friends with Harry because you realize he's powerful now. But you don't give a damn about him."

"I do!"

"Bullshit."

"Alright, fine," he spat. "You try to give a damn about him when he's just being a broody arsehole all the time. Every time I try something, he just ignores me. How am I supposed to befriend someone like that?"

"That's because he can tell you're just being an opportunistic arse. Why the fuck would he want to be friends with you? Sure, he'll make sure you honour the deal that saved your arse, but he doesn't want a slimy fucking turncoat as a friend. If you're really serious about befriending him and not just trying to get him to forget you were the one who delivered him into Montague's arms, then at least try to be genuine. Trust me, Harry will be able to tell when you're not."

"Being genuine?"

"Yeah, genuine, you know? When you actually give a shit about someone rather than just looking to survive or take advantage of a situation."

"Who are you kidding, it's Malfoy," Pansy flicked him in the ear before walking past him. "He hasn't been genuine even once in his life."

"I have!" Draco defended himself, rushing after the two of them.

Theo tuned out his tiresome tirade as the three of them continued down the two remaining carriages. And when it became clear that neither he nor Pansy would entertain Draco in continuing his debate, the blond git told them to get fucked before shutting up again.

They rushed through these two carriages, barely even paying attention to the students. And sure enough, Draco's obsession with Neville seemed to have paid off, as they found the Gryffindors in the very last compartments. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was in the right carriage, with Fred and George immediately catching their eyes when they arrived. But Theo ignored them, turning to the left carriage where Neville was sitting with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny Weasley.

But Harry wasn't there.

Theo's stomach dropped, but he didn't get much time to deal with the feeling as Pansy pushed past him and opened the door to their compartment. Neville immediately tensed up, straightening up in his seat as he looked up at them defiantly. The other three shared concerned looks, but Pansy ignored them as she looked at Neville and asked, "Where's Potter?"

"I don't know," Neville shrugged stiffly.

"That's not an answer, Longbottom."

"Well, it's the one you're getting."

"We don't know," Ginny spoke up.

"I find that hard to believe."

"No, really," she said earnestly. "Honest to Merlin, we don't know what happened to him. The adults wouldn't tell us."

"Ginny shut up," Ron warned.

"No, Ginny, keep going," Theo said, stepping forward as he stood beside Pansy. "You said you don't know where Harry is? Fine, I believe you. But you know where he was. You know what happened to him, don't you?"

"Is there a problem here?" A cold voice said from behind.

"I suggest you snakes go back to where you came from," said its twin voice.

"Or what?" Pansy said, turning towards the two of them as Theo kept his gaze fixed on Neville. "You'll attack a prefect?"

"We'll defend my sister from being harassed."

"Harassed?" Theo snorted bitterly. "We're here looking for our friend, you're the ones ganging up on us. Speaking of which, where is he by the way? Where's Harry?"

"None of your business."

"I'm making it my business," Theo turned, only to immediately bump into Fred Weasley. Taller than him by nearly a head, the seventh-year attempted to tower over him menacingly. But Theo kept his gaze fixed on Fred's eyes as his blood ran cold. He had so many more things to be afraid of than a lowly Weasley. "Where's Harry?"

"He's…" Hermione tried to speak, but failed to find her words.

"Fred, George, knock it off," Ginny berated her brothers.

"Us?"

"You were the ones who escalated it."

"Only after they barged in here!"

"They didn't barge in!" She snapped. "Just because they're Slytherins means that they came here to attack us."

"Ginny shut up."

"You shut it, Ron!"

"I think we should go," Draco whispered fearfully.

"You should listen to your friend," George said coldly. "It's time to go, little snakes."

"Not until you tell us what you did with Harry," Theo responded.

"We didn't do anything, you bloody moron!" Ron snapped.

"So Harry just magically vanished?" Pansy asked sardonically.

"That's it," Neville said gruffly, leaping from his seat before he grabbed the handle of the door and pushed it close. "We're done."

"No, we're not," Theo said coolly, using his feet to stop it from closing before slamming it open again, making Hermione and Ginny flinch from the impact.

"Get back," Neville snarled.

"Fucking make me."

That was all he had to say, Neville rushed forward and threw a punch at him. But Theo had been expecting it, stepping backwards to dodge it, he retaliated immediately by striking him in the jaw before he could recover from the attempt. "That one's for Harry, you prick," he growled before pulling out his wand from his pocket and jamming it up Fred's neck. And just as expected, everyone already had their wands out. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team and Ron with their wands trained on the three of them. Thankfully, Pansy had the foresight to also pull out her wand.

"Everyone enough!" Ginny snapped, getting up and placing herself between Ron and Theo. "We don't know where Harry is. That's the truth."

"We believe you," Pansy said. "But you still haven't answered our other questions.

"We can't, okay? We literally can't. We're under oath, I'm sorry."

Theo and Pansy shared a look, their minds immediately going to the same place, before he turned back to Fred.

"Tell your friends to put their wands down,"

"Fat chance," he said nastily. "Learn to count, Nott. You're outmatched, eight to two."

"Nine," Neville growled, pulling up his wand as well.

"Neville, no!" Hermione moaned, jumping up and pushing his wand away. She turned towards him and Pansy and said, "Just leave, please."

"They're not leaving," George said. "Not after what they did to Neville."

"Yeah, try and stop me," Theo laughed.

"What part of being outnumbered do you not understand?" Ron cried out.

"We're not outnumbered," Theo replied coldly. "We're surrounded by training dummies."

"Put your wands down," Pansy continued.

"Fred! George! Enough!" Ginny yelled.

The two twins glared at Theo and Pansy respectively before sharing a reluctant look. "Fine," they said snidely, and as the two began to lower their wands, so did the rest of the Quidditch team.

"Ron," Ginny warned.

"Fine," he grumbled, throwing his wand to the sofa.

Ginny turned around, her hair flying wildly before her eyes settled on his. "Go," she said firmly. "Now!"

Pansy nodded, and the two holstered their wands before she grabbed Draco by the arm and began pulling him away. Theo stared at Ginny for a second before giving her a half nod and turning around. He sped up slightly to catch up to Pansy and Draco, and just as he was about to lower his guard, he felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand when he heard Ginny scream.

"Fred no!"

"Flipendo!"

Theo and Pansy turned around simultaneously, and without any words said or looks shared, the two worked in tandem. Pansy conjured a shield that easily absorbed the jinx right as Theo extended his wand and yelled, "Stupefy!" Fred Weasley barely had time to raise his eyebrows in surprise before he was hit by the stunning charm. He was thrown against the wall before his body slumped to the ground.

The rest of the Gryffindors immediately reached for their wands, to which Pansy sent a low-powered blasting curse that hit the ground right in front of George. A warning shot. The lot of them looked upwards, staring at the two

"Anyone else?" He asked, goading them with his wand to try something. But after a couple of moments of silence, once it became clear they weren't going to try anything else, Theo turned to Neville and glared at him. "This isn't over."

Parkinson Palace

11:45 p.m.

Bedivere stood in before the atrium of the manor. It was cold and quiet, but with Pansy off at Hogwarts and Kieran sleeping at ten sharp every day, that was to be expected. He rarely slept these days. The Threads burned in his chest all day and made it hard to get into a mindset where he could relax and take a break, however small. Not that it mattered, for his body didn't seem to need sleep to survive anymore. Not with the Threads a part of him now, essentially replacing most of his body as they became the sole thing keeping him alive.

An unfortunate side effect of using the Threads, one he had not expected or been warned about. And while one lost the value in their looks as their body began to wrinkle and lose its appeal, it had become hard to look at himself in the mirror and see the gaping holes in his body with glimpses of the silver threads where his blood and innards used to be. A collection of bones held together by the mythical Threads of Fate and half-covered by a layer of rotting skin he had to tend to thrice a day just to keep up appearances.

Dark Magic had always had a price to it. He'd known it since before he used the Threads. And though he had expected that price to be his life, he had been cursed with life. A life that wasn't his own, one that was dominated by the Threads of Fate. How long they would give him life, he didn't know, nor did he know why they did so. What they wanted him to do. His purpose in this new world he'd inadvertently created. What he was sure of was the irony of the whole situation. He had thought he could play with Fate, bend it to his will. Instead, it had turned him into its plaything.

This whole world, the way events were turning out so similarly to how they went in his original timeline even with the massive differences present between the two, it was a maddening puzzle. The events he tried to plan for ended up much different than what he had been expecting, and the events he was trying to avoid were still finding a way of coming to fruition on their own. There were times when he wondered if this was all just his personal hell, a way for Fate to make an arrogant old man pay for his tampering.

But Fate had always been bigger than a single man. There was a reason for all of this outside of him altogether. He was just being forced to bear witness.

The large door suddenly creaked open, letting in the sound of the large snowstorm outside as a tall hooded man stepped inside, followed by a malnourished man, barely covered by a rag, who didn't even have the strength to walk and was forced to crawl.

Bedivere almost smiled as he walked towards Yaxley. "You found him?"

"Yes," the man groaned, taking off his hood and revealing a bruised, bleeding face. "Bastard was trying to kill anyone who crossed him, I wouldn't be surprised if the muggles are looking for a nomad serial killer."

"Why didn't you simply imperio him again from the start?"

"I did, or well, I tried. His mind's begun to decay, Bedivere. I've had to apply the imperius curse a few times now because he somehow keeps breaking it."

"As in overcoming it? Fascinating."

"Not exactly," Yaxley said ruefully. "More like he begins going feral and attacking anything in sight." He pointed at his face and smiled.

"Ah, that could present an issue."

"Indeed."

"Regardless, we have him now. A tad late since I fear the Dark Lord managed to get a few snippets of the Department of Mysteries from him, but containing him should halt the damage. For now, at least."

"How long until we can give him the cure?" Yaxley asked.

"In a month or two we'll have a treatment ready. Untested, but I can't think of a more perfect person to study the effects than on Augustus here." Bedivere said absently. "If it fails, then it eliminates our security breach and if it works, then we have a potential new ally."

"Wouldn't it be better to test it on Bellatrix or the others?" Yaxley said smoothly. "I wouldn't be opposed to removing some of them from the board before they turn their eyes on us."

"The Dark Lord will never allow testing the treatment on any of his inner circle, so unless there are other prisoners as affected as Augustus is, then he's the best option for it. And given we want to keep the Dark Lord happy and unsuspecting, then the completion of this project must be done quickly and to perfection."

"Fair enough."

"Take our guest to the dungeons, there's a cell there he'll find comfortable for these next few months," Bedivere said pleasantly.

"And after that?"

"We return our focus to the Horcruxes. Kieran has done a sufficient job in scouring various counties, but now that the Rookwood situation has been resolved he could use our help to speed up the process. And with the Dark Lord focused now on Rookwood, the treatment, and now the Department of Mysteries, this gives us the perfect opportunity to target the Horcruxes fairly unnoticed. We've lost too much time already-"

The door creaked open once more, interrupting Bedivere mid-sentence as he and Yaxley immediately turned towards it. Yaxley unholstered his wand and aimed it at the door while Bedivere prepared to activate the wards of the manor.

"Someone make a five-star dinner and ready a nice, hot shower for me," a familiar voice called out, immediately halting the both of them before they did anything. "And don't forget the couple house-elves to give me a relaxing and bloody well-earnt foot rub while we're at it."

"Potter?" Yaxley called out, hesitantly lowering his wand.

"You lazy fucks have sat around for far too long and left me to do all the work," he said, his words flowing easily. It was only once he got closer that Bedivere realized Harry wasn't alone. Apart from the portrait he was dragging through the ground, there was a small house-elf following him from behind. "Well, not anymore. Time to catch up and take the baton of this whole shit. This…" he pulled up the portrait before dropping it on the ground. "Is Regulus Black, and you're really going to want to talk to him. Besides that, here's Kreacher, my new House-Elf. He used to belong to the Blacks and worked at the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. He'll tell you whatever the fuck you want about the Order of the Phoenix and… oh, yeah." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a green and silver locket before laying it on the table in front. "Here's one of Voldemort's Horcruxes for good measure."

The Harry Potter that had just barged into his home and made his list of demands was a far cry from the bratty, insecure boy that he had been meeting with only two months ago. He strolled across the hall not with the puffed-up bravado he used to have, but with a more quiet confidence to his movements. He wasn't snarling every word or looking at either of them like he was a wild, feral animal. He was lanky and slightly taller, with longer hair that was allowed to be an unbridled mess rather than forcibly slicked back by a gallon of Sleekeazy's.

"So how about that dinner?"

For once, Bedivere was too stunned to speak. His eyes moved between the green locket, the House Elf, and the portrait of Regulus Black in a continuous pattern before he turned back to Harry. He was looking at him expectantly, and only now having him a few feet closer did he take in his appearance. His white shirt was wrinkled, untucked, and covered in large, reddish-brown spots. It wasn't until he looked at his face and saw it was covered in dried blood that he realised what the marks were. And Bedivere couldn't muster more will than to blink as he tried to process all of it.

"What?" Harry said, looking at them as if they were the mad ones.

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

Next chapter we'll see Harry begin his quest to avenge Susan's death, as well as the other kids returning to Hogwarts

By the time I'm posting this, I'm ELEVEN chapters ahead, and I have started the arc titled Lost Souls, which is one of the final arcs before we reach the climax of fifth-year! If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

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