He was in his room at the manor, and then suddenly, he wasn't. Instead of his room, he was now facing an unfamiliar figure. Instinctively, he reached for his wand, only to realize he couldn't move.
"What is this?" His attempts to move proved futile, filling him with fear.
"Relax," reassured the person before him, and he felt an unexplained calmness wash over him "Take it easy, it's alright."
"Who are you?" Peter Pettigrew inquired, attempting to scrutinize the stranger before him. However, the darkness in the room obscured his vision, and an unsettling sensation emanating from the figure made it even harder to bear it than being near a dementor.
"What I am matters little, as I exist and will exist beyond your comprehension. What holds significance is what I must tell you. My power is boundless, for this is my narrative, which renders you subservient to me, I control you."
A chill ran down his spine.
"Understand this," the voice commanded, "You shall move when I tell you to, you shall speak when I allow you to. You are a puppet; a slave and I am your new master. You shall be a conduit of my ideas, you will bring your civilization to ruins, because I wish to see it happen. Arise, and play your role in this tale, as I command you to do so."
Desperate people don't care about long term consequences that their desperation could lead to, they overlook repercussions of their attempts to make things better short-term, succumbing to the anticipated irrationality. In this very scenario, Peter Pettigrew's success was virtually assured.
He bore a singular responsibility – the paramount task – yet first, he needed to have conversation with his old master.
"My Lord?" He inquired quietly, always uncertain of his master's disposition. Today, however, he didn't need to worry, because Lord Voldemort was expecting him
"Pettigrew, have you come to tell me something important?" Voldemort inquired, sending a shiver down his spine.
"I have devised a plan, master." He responded, hearing his old master's chuckle. His presence was unnerving, yet preferable to being in the presence of his new master. "I have thought about how we should proceed"
"I am already privy to your intentions, Pettigrew. However, feel free to share your thoughts. Do you believe that a rat like you could conceive of something I have not already considered, only to dismiss it?" Voldemort's words dripped with scepticism
His breathing slowed, sensing somebody else attempting to seize control of him. Yielding to this sensation, he surrendered, and words not his own started flowing from his mouth. The Stranger had taken control, proof that he was nothing but a slave. It seemed to him that his old master already knew what he was going to say.
"You have always viewed Britain as something that you need to conquer. The initial stride towards your dream of global dominion, and I am not judging you for your aspiration. It is not my desire to halt your ambition, but I want you to look at this differently. Instead of evolving into a tyrant, wielding authority through fear… Enforcing compliance with coercion, thereby ruling under the constant threat of rebellion, constant threat of coups due to absence of genuine loyalty. What if, instead of this path, the one you are so inclined to follow for no reason other than simplicity of it… What if, you were to ascend as a Deity of your domain? Imagine… People following you willingly, bending their knees with pathetic reverence. This allegiance would endure eternally; the entire world under your thumb. "
Lord Voldemort regarded his servant, contemplation evident in his gaze, as he pondered the identify of the person he was speaking to. He knew that it wasn't his rat that was speaking, he could feel a foreign presence in the room. His rational side alerted him that something was amiss, yet the words intrigued him. Reluctantly acknowledging his desperation, and ignoring small part of rationality in his brain that remained after his death, he was seduced by these words. He somehow knew that everything the mysterious person is saying is possible, and he would have strength to do it.
"And how do you propose I do that? How do you make a villain feared by everybody into a hero? A god?"
"Elementary manipulation and deception" Pettigrew smiled, he was stuck inside of him and couldn't remember the last time his face made such an expression. It felt unnatural. "Crisis beckons individuals to seek for saviour, permitting you to emerge as hero that is going to save everybody. And I have one particular crisis in mind. You and Pettigrew will create something so terrifying, so devastating… So that when it gets so bad, people will readily embrace your salvation. You will rise from death and will become saviour of mankind. A new civilization will ascend from the ashes of the old, and everybody will look upon you to lead it. The world will become whatever you want it to become. People will not ask questions, those who will not have loud enough voice. "
"Who are you?" Voldemort asked in wonder
"What I am is not important, as the truth of it resides beyond your grasp. What is important right now is whether you will accept your new role as God of New Earth."
Voldemort nodded and The Stranger smiled behind his mask.
"Excellent. Your new acolyte, Pettigrew you call him, shall orchestrate the crisis precisely as I dictate. I only ask of one thing. Trust him, and only him alone. Do you understand?"
"Yes" Lord Voldemort's desperation, his lust for world domination and renown – He never had a chance. Ensnared, he capitulated to the Stranger's manipulations without a fight the moment he started listening.
From this point onward, every event is already etched in stone.
"At times, necessity dictates the use of tools one despises to advance goals. You will study what I tell you to study, absorb the knowledge I deem vital. Do you understand?"
Pettigrew nodded. As The Stranger departed his body, Peter once again in control of himself exited the room without glancing at his former master. It was time to begin the work.
His first task was to research Muggle History. It was beyond his comprehension, why would his new master order him to learn about lower species, yet he obeyed without questions. His research unveiled a lot of things about muggles he had no knowledge of, the most interesting parts were their dark aspects. He realized how inhumane and evil they could be. History books taking about the evil deeds committed on the behest of singular figures made him excited. The deeds so vile, rivalling or even surpassing his previous master.
He felt himself increasingly more hateful of the muggles, but it wasn't his anger. Their advancements seemed to walk together with violence, with hatred. The pursuit of enhanced methods of slaughter disgusted him. He acknowledged Muggle's inherent nature of violence, and he started thinking. How are we so different, but with same sins? The question disturbed him, unsettling him, his mind influenced by the teachings of The Stranger.
He was taught about their corruption next. Abuse of power, moral deficiency, hypocrisy – What is the difference? You hold muggles inferior, but I teach you about them, Pettigrew. Tell me, have you looked at what people you followed before have done? What your current government is doing? He is the same, your government is the same, and people everywhere all the same. We are all parasites. You or I are no different. Stop, make it stop – The voice inside Pettigrew didn't listen. Violence, greed, hypocrisy, lies – It's inside all of us, fighting against our nature is like attempting to swim against the strong current. Possible, but at some point, you will get too tired and succumb to it. You can't stop Pettigrew. Surrender yourself to hatred, let it fuel you. Do you understand now? Yes. Of course, you think you understand, but you are nothing bet conscious marionette.
"It has to be virus. It's simple to alter, to mend together. To get the best results, we are going to use the worst of both magical and muggle diseases. The method of transmission already exists, but it demands a sacrifice."
"Why?"
"Blood is powerful. Sacrifice even more so. This is what our master desires for, my lord." There was no need for justification. Both of them have already embraced their new roles in this narrative. "We will use the magic of the person to spread it. I am not privy to specifics, but he has assured me that it will succeed."
"And the cure?"
"Imminent. Created alongside the virus, adaptive to any future mutations. Instantaneous reaction, and enough will be ready for you to use whenever you decide it's time to act."
"Then… it's time to begin. I trust you, Peter. "Formerly cherished trust, now irrelevant. Nothing mattered to him anymore, excepting destruction of civilization. Voldemort's relevance disappeared the moment this story has begun.
He had exceeded expectations. The disease was here, an awe-inspiring achievement. Peter gazed upon his creation, devoid of emotion. His disease was created by combining the most dangerous kind of muggle and magical viruses, in a way that hasn't been done before, because what he did was impossible and out of this world. But The Stranger has deemed that this disease was crucial part of this story, it was a thing that allowed him to move into next stage. This is why Peter was able to create it. The Stranger bent the rules of the magical world and the result was perfect disease for his plans. The disease will infiltrate the host's body, and it will replicate itself on its own and spread to others using host's magic. The simple acts of magic will cause disease to spread, it will attach itself to any surface or item with magical residue and will slowly consume everything alive instead the human body. The result is agonizing and slow death of a host, disguised by magic. Undetectable to all until it is too late. It is the will of The Stranger.
"Is the virus ready?" Lord Voldemort asked him the very next morning.
"It's ready for the trial. You just need to choose the location."
"I've a location in mind, Peter. There's a small village in France that I've history with. Let us start there."
Hundreds of unexplainable and sudden deaths threw a portion of the French Magical community into disarray. Almost all of the victims were veelas, yet the population exhibited indifference, their concerns confined to their own species. Veelas held little significance in French circles.
Monsier Delacour differed in that regard, but only because it affected him personally. His family was vulnerable to the disease, he committed his resources in investigating the disease, he sought to find the root cause of it. His efforts did not evade the notice of The Stranger. He quickly intervened, realizing that there's opportunity to make things more interesting. A fresh narrative.
"Who are you?" The query echoed from the past, response to it consistent.
"What I am matters little, as I exist and will continue to exist beyond your comprehension. What holds significance is what I must tell you. My power is boundless, for this is my narrative, and which renders you subservient to my will, I control you. You are investigating the sudden deaths of Veelas that hits so close to home, nobody else cares to find the truth, except you. Even if the reasons for that are obvious, I still respect it. I am here to help you; I can give you what you want, you only need to accept one simple condition."
"And what is that condition?"
"I will give you, my diary. I implore you to read it. Within the diary, lies the explanation for the unfolding events. It offers my rationale. I want you to read it and judge me. I know that you are going to accept it, because this is what I had predicted it. Because your attention is imperative, I will ensure that there are no other victims of the disease until you have finished the book and have judged me. Until you have responded to my question"
"To what question?"
"Will you stand with me?"
Days went by, and Monsieur Delacour read the diary. Disgust rising within him with every passing page, not understanding how somebody could fall so low, how can one become so morally corrupt to do the things written in the diary
However, the question was nothing but an illusion of a choice. When a man holds the power to annihilate all you hold dear, rendering you impotent to intervene… Choice ceases to exist, there's only compliance. And thus, Monsieur Delacour, arrived to decision that wasn't his to make.
"I will stand with you." He whispered and The Stranger heard it.
"This is a cure for the current virus mutation. You can share this with whoever you want, it is up to you. And this is modification that will adapt to any further mutations. This one is only for you and your family, and you will receive it as long as you stand with me. Do you understand?"
"Yes." He replied
"The trial was successful, just as expected. And the Disease is ready to be unleashed upon the world. "Pettigrew reported to Voldemort.
"Peter… My most loyal companion. This is it. Do you think he is proud? "Voldemort's tone bore uncertainty.
"I believe he is." Pettigrew replied. But deep down he knew… That his master felt nothing but contempt for him, for his past actions.
"Yesterday, he conveyed a message to me. The Dementors have acknowledged his rightfulness and embraced him as their leader. I think it's time to summon our past companions, to illuminate them about our righteous path." Voldemort declared.
Bellatrix Lestrange had been the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, faithfully serving him until the very end. Upon receiving his summons and Dementors releasing them, she didn't hesitate to come to him. However, upon reuniting with him, she felt something important was missing, a void she swiftly recognized as his diminished power and lack of will. To her, he appeared as nothing more than frail husk, clinging desperately to weak existence. She was confused, and there was voice in her head telling her to get out, and things aren't as they seem. Her fellow Death Eaters had similar thoughts.
But they were too slow. The Stranger appeared, and suddenly she wasn't hesitant. There was something reminding her of her old master in The Stranger. She was quick to pledge herself to him, vowing to serve him until the ultimate culmination that was not too far for her.
"You were always his most precious, the embodiment of unwavering loyalty. The strongest of them all. It's clear why held you in such high esteem. A man would go to great lengths to secure a woman like you, to have formidable woman kneel before him, somebody who is superior to him in every way be held to his own whims. You held the potential for greatness, Bellatrix, but it was squandered because of him. You permitted him to own you, compelling you to perpetrate evil acts because it was easy. You were beautiful once, but he made you ugly. You chose the path of least resistance and surrendered yourself to darkness without a fight. Rather than striving to be good, however futile that is, you opted to not even try, and for that I shall judge you. I brought you here today to b e your jury, judge and executioner. Do you accept?"
"Yes, master," she responded, her voice subservient. The Stranger merely shook his head in disappointment. Humans, he mused, would fight for their cause only to forsake it because an easier option came up, betraying their ideals and themselves when a more potent voice, a mightier influence has entered the fray. The Stranger believed himself to be justified in doing things the way he does, yet he recognized the fallacy of his own philosophy, he was just too deep in to stop. Just as the characters in his story, he, too was deceived, by himself. His convictions seemed righteous because it was of his own creation. He perceived his disdain for civilization as a result of rational reasoning, attributing solely to facts and proofs, misinterpreted by him and with no context given. The Stranger had no right to judge people, but he did it anyways, because he had the power to do so. Accepting Bellatrix's submission, he judged her for it while reveling in the sensation.
"And the rest of you… Will you accept my judgement?" He inquired, his gaze sweeping over the repugnant wizards standing before him. They were all deserving of eternal damnation. One by one, they bowed, submission evident in their posture. None dared to oppose him, none stood in defense of their beliefs. It was a moment of total destruction. Death Eaters destroyed by words.
"We accept you, master."
"I pass judgement upon you for the offence of being human. I indict you for your failures to resist the darker aspects of our nature, yielding to its venom You stand condemned for forsaking your convictions and beliefs, permitting other to sway you with ease. I judge you all guilty, and your penalty is the recognition of your insignificance. You are my Patient Zero, you are going to bring down civilization with you. The odyssey upon which you embark today shall reshape everything. You shall be the spark that causes mayhem and annihilation that will engulf the world. Rise, my servants, and start your journey to the end."
The ministry was busier than ever, a hive of activity heightened by the recent disappearance of Azkaban prisoners and jailors. Aurors fully focused, but blind at the same time. Amidst the crowd, Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the middle of it, nobody paid attention, she was invisible because nobody expected her to be here. Were she capable anymore, she might have smiled. Instead, she closed her eyes and commenced counting. As the countdown concluded, her thoughts turned to The Stranger, and a pang of guilt struck her like a hammer. Remorse for her deeds washed over her, but it was too late. The narrative had been written; her actions predetermined. She initiated an incantation without knowing, wand aimed at the ground.
"Bombardo Maxima" She died instantly; her last thoughts full of regrets for her actions.
Simultaneously, nine other detonations echoed worldwide in different ministries, chaos all over.
The clock has started ticking, tick, tock. Humanity is counting it's last seconds.
Severus Snape stepped into his old friend's office and settled into a chair. He exchanged a nod with Albus before taking a deep gulp from his drink, feeling the need for it after recent events.
"I conversed with The Unspeakables today. They've confirmed that one of the remains was Bellatrix Lestrange. Owl messages have arrived from both France and the United States, revealing that Dolohov and Rookwood were the orchestrators of the assault. It begs the question, why would ten staunch Death Eaters commit suicide in such a seemingly purposeless act of terrorism?"
Severus Snape stepped into his old friend's office and settled into a chair in front of the desk. He exchanged looks with Albus before taking a deep gulp from his whiskey cup, feeling the need for it more and more after recent events.
"I spoke with The Aurors today. First of all, they told me I shouldn't be going to them anymore because Unspeakables took over the investigation."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, Albus. I was also curious, but I was ignored when I asked why is that the case. Anyways, second of all, I have got confirmation that one of the remains was Bellatrix Lestrange. I received owls from my contacts in France and United States, they have concluded their identifications of bodies and… Dolohov and Rookwood were there, Albus. I assume that is the case in 7 other countries. Why would Death Eaters commit such suicidal attack? "
"Better question is, why would Dark Lord order them to do so? There is no rational motive for him to sacrifice his devoted allies in such manner. If we find out answer to this question, recent events may become clearer,"
"Do you suspect it all be his involvement? The deaths in France, the disappearance of Dementors, this attack…" Severus continued "My mark is still dark."
"He is the most obvious suspect. I've always speculated that he didn't truly perish on that day, and recent occurrences have corroborated my hypothesis. I am certain he played a role in all of these events. What I don't understand is the purpose behind his actions. What does he stand to gain by killing the Veelas? How did he make Dementors disappear without trace? Why would he send his most formidable followers to their deaths only day after helping them escape?"
"Any more hypothesis, Albus? "
"I am afraid I have to admit that I am at loss, Severus. And what's what troubles me the most. It feels as though I'm in a game that I can't comprehend, with rules that are unknown to everybody but the person organizing it. Until I can fathom the cause of this intrigue, I shall not rest. However, I'm not naïve enough to think we can handle this alone. I think it's time for the Phoenix to rise again, my friend. Reach out to our former friends and allies, engage them in discourse, persuade them about the unknown threat that we are facing. I shall organize the meeting a week from now. Together, we will discuss the matter, and then proceed with our first move."
"I will contact them, "Severus said, rising from his seat. "Good day, Albus."
Everybody that survived the Atrium explosion became carrier. Those infected unwittingly introduce the disease into their homes, slowly transmitting it to their loved ones. Among the infected was an unfortunate muggle whose house shared unfortunate proximity with magical wards of infected wizard. The Disease, adapting, evolved beyond magical transmission, it lay dormant within the muggle host, awaiting the directive. As the muggle went about his daily commute, he became carrier and inadvertently infected those he encountered.
Another carrier had a flight the next day, and so the disease managed to reach places unaffected by explosion. A magical disease was spreading through the muggle world like fiendfyre.
Symptoms have slowly started appearing. Some unlucky few died in unimaginable pain suffering from a disease nobody knew about, others are getting restless and confused.
One morning, Voldemort coughed, he didn't think much of it. Dumbledore coughed twice during the secret meeting of the Order of The Phoenix.
Slowly, the countdown has started. It's speed following the will of The Stranger.
The autumn weather brought a pleasant ambiance to Hogwarts, Harry Potter observed. Regrettably, his day would be spent indoors, engrossed in his studies. Accompanied by his closest companions, he headed toward the Great Hall for breakfast.
"So, what are your thoughts? " Ron interjected abruptly, his gaze directed at Harry.
"My thoughts about what?" Harry inquired, a hint of uncertainty clouding his face.
"The bloody tournament, of course! Just think about it. Eternal glory, mate. Your name echoing throughout history, not to mention the monetary reward itself. "
Shaking his head, he tried to shoot down his friend's enthusiasm "It's not relevant, is it? We're not even eligible for it"
"But imagine if we were… I'd give away anything to be able to partake. Winning it would be utterly brilliant," Ron persisted.
Hermione joined the conversation "Do you know how dangerous it is? People have died during these."
Ron ignored Hermione "Just think about the possibilities… The recognition, the trill…"
"Believe me, Ron. There's not a single thing that is enjoyable about fame." Especially when said fame came due to your parents dying fighting Dark Lord. He didn't say that part out loud, but Ron understood and went quiet. He was just glad that the topic was over.
They came to sit by Neville at the table, who looked terrible. Even worse than usual since the terrorist attacks that caused havoc among wizarding world.
"Neville? You alright? "Harry inquired while looking at his friend worried.
Neville's response carried a hint of bitterness that he didn't expect. "Why does it matter?" He said only to quickly blush and apologize swiftly. "Sorry. It's just… I'm fine, I suppose. Just wondering about some things, that is all" He muttered.
Recognizing a tone when somebody doesn't' want to talk about something, he didn't press. He nodded. "Sure, I get it. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I will be there, Nev" He was about to start eating when Neville unexpectedly began to open up.
"It's Bellatrix. I can't shake the feeling of injustice… It's unfair that she managed to escape so easily and brought down so many with her. Even in her final moments, she inflicted more harm on innocent lives. It's unfair, Harry."
"Yeah, I…- "
"It's unfair, Harry. You know, I used to imagine how my meeting would go with her. I had fantasies. A lot of them. How I would make her pay for all the things she had done. To me, to my parents… To everybody else. Prior to the Azkaban disappearance, I knew how impossible they were… But. I know it's bad, but her escaping possibly made me happy for the first time, Harry. It gave me motivation that I needed. Meeting her and doing to her what she deserves have became my drive, I wanted to end her life, Harry. Does it make me a bad guy, Harry? Is it wrong to wish for someone's death?"
He replied, "Not when that person is Bellatrix, Neville."
Neville's dissatisfaction lingered. "I wouldn't have just killed her. I would have made her pay… But it doesn't matter now, does it? It was taken away from me. Just like that."
"Do you think doing that… Doing these things that you talk about. Would it have made you happier?"
"Happier? No, probably not. Definitely not. But that's not the point. The point is… I'm not even sure what is the point of it. Perhaps it's that you can't truly understand who you are, what you're capable of, until you reach certain point in your life. I don't know, Harry. "
Weeks passed uneventfully as preparations for the tournament unfolded. The arrival of students from the other schools marked the beginning of the event.
In somewhat predictable fashion, Durmstrang students took their place at the Slytherin table. Meanwhile, Ravenclaw had the pleasure of hosting the attractive French delegation at their table.
The feast prepared for this occasion was amazing, offering an extensive array of dishes of all kinds from various corners of the world. Students from different schools and even houses mingled freely, sharing conversations, laughing together, and good-natured arguments. Oblivious to the looming peril that they all carried, majority of them were harboring dormant beast inside of them, a ticking time bomb ready to erupt at any moment. The harbinger of annihilation stood concealed, invisible to all, observing with an inscrutable gaze, waiting.
Tick, tock. His heartbeat matched the steady cadence of time's passage. The unfolding narrative bore the heavy weight of an inescapable conclusion – death of everybody in this room and the heavy weight of it all was put on The Strangers shoulders, for he was the harbinger.
Tick, tock. His heartbeat matched the steady cadence of time's passage. The unfolding narrative bore the heavy weight of an inescapable conclusion – a somber understanding that had now settled upon The Stranger's consciousness.
Minerva noticed that Albus coughs were becoming more and more pronounced
"You really should have those coughs examined, Albus, "she said with concern etched on her facial features. In response, he simply shrugged and offered a reassuring smile
"It's all part of growing old, Minerva. Besides, a medi-wizard that I trust with my life has examined me and has found nothing out of ordinary."
"But it's getting worse, Albus…"
"Rest assured, Minerva. Everything is under control, "he replied with unwavering confidence, and Minerva accepted his words of deception with relief, her worry subsiding.
Unknown to her, Albus had visited numerous medical experts, not just one. But he tried his hardest to conceal his worry, everybody else had more pressing matters to worry about.
Later that day, he was having same conversation with Severus.
"Did you tell her? That your health is deteriorating in advanced pace?" Severus inquired when he entered the room.
"I cannot burden her with my lack of health, Severus. She deserves more than that, "Albus replied
"Ah, so you've passed all the burden onto me, then?" Severus retorted
"Any news?" Albus asked, changing the subject.
"Nothing. The Dark Lord remains eerily quit. Nothing suspicious is happening. He hasn't reached out to any of former associates that managed to avoid Azkaban, and the Dark Mark remains inactive. It's as if he's vanished from existence, Albus."
"So, we're not closer to unraveling the mystery then. How does one fight an adversary who remains inert?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems like you're wishing for the Dark Lord to become more active. Isn't this a good thing? That he decided to remain inactive? We deserve some peace time every now and then."
"Not when that peace is nothing but illusion, my friend. I can't put my finger on it, but my intuition tells me this calm is merely a calm before the storm. We must uncover the origins of the events that happened in ministry. And we must find Voldemort."
"What if I were to tell you that your demise is imminent and beyond your control, old man?" The Stranger interjected, causing Dumbledore's instincts to awaken in surge of wariness. However, he found himself unable to move. Where was Snape moments ago, now was sitting a cloaked figure.
"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked, fear rising inside him.
"I am The Stranger. Your arbiter, adjudicator and executioner. Your past actions resulted in the deaths of countless individuals, and I hereby pronounce you guilty. You will not recollect this encounter, but understand that your final moments are approaching. And that your punishment is seeing everything go down while you are unable to save anybody."
Yet, as the encounter faded from Dumbledore's memory, a lingering unease settled within him, a nagging sense that something was not right. The story moved on, and Dumbledore has missed the train to truth.
Walking into the owlery to visit Hedwig, Harry was met with a surprising sight. His beloved owl was perched on the shoulder of a girl he didn't recognize.
"Hello? "He said uncertain, and she turned to face him in response, she was smiling and her smile radiated nothing but warmth. He recognized her as the Beauxbatons student who had captivated everybody during their entrance. Hermione has told him that she's most likely Half-Veela.
"Harry Potter" she said, and he could feel his cheeks slightly redden under her gaze, he could only avert his eyes. "I've heard so much about you, it's nice to finally meet the so-called savior of the Magical World. "Her attention shifted towards Hedwig. "It's yours, is it not? She's beautiful. What is her name?"
"Hedwig" He replied, he didn't know he was famous even outside Britain.
"Hedwig" She repeated, and smiled at the owl when it hooted contently. And put her down back to her spot owlery, petting her nicely. "So, Harry Potter."
"That is my name" He replied tried to look at anything but her and her captivating presence.
She chuckled "Indeed it is, Harry. Say, would you answer my question? I am very curious to see what you think"
"Uh, sure, yeah, "He said.
"Do you find me beautiful?" She asked simply, still smiling.
"Yes," He answered without hesitation, but the smile was gone from her face.
"Harry Potter, you out of all people should know not to judge people simply like that. You haven't even looked at me, and you are ready to cast your judgement about my looks. Look at me Harry, judge my appearance, take your time. We have all the time in the world after all."
He listened to her and raised his head, examining her in detail. She seemed even more enchanting, the more he looked. Her blue eyes were mesmerizing him, and her lips held captivating charm, even when they were almost frowning. Every aspect of her looks seemed perfect. She waited patiently, letting him examine her in full detail, after few moments, he finally spoke.
"You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life. "He was honest, that's what she wanted him to be, right? Was this what love from first sight was?
She sighed and shook her head, she looked almost sad. "Just because someone appears beautiful from outside, it doesn't mean they are as beautiful on inside, Harry. How can you call me beautiful without knowing me, what I am? I didn't expect you to answer at this time, I wanted you to really take your time in drawing your conclusion." She offered him a wistful smile and left the owlery, without even saying goodbye.
As she walked away, he felt as if he has messed up his most important test in his life.
He was surprised by her once again the very next day. She has found him in the hallway and quickly took his hand, forcibly leading him to an abandoned classroom.
"I have decided to give you a second chance" She said "Do you know what Yule Ball is?" She asked.
"No?" He replied confused, still trying to process what just happened.
"How? Never mind. It's a Wizard Celebration, held on the same day as Muggle Christmas, celebrating the very same thing, but wizards couldn't stand having anything in common with simple muggles and here we are. Anyways, that's not important. "She said.
"What is so important that you had to take me away to here? "He asked, getting his confidence back after disappointing ending of their meeting yesterday.
"Champions will need dancing partners for the main event, and that means I'm required to find somebody."
"But. Champions haven't been decided yet?"
"Really, Harry. Do you think anybody but me could be champion for my school? Everybody else were only invited because it wouldn't look as good for me to be champion without competition. It's all about pretending."
"I don't know how to dance"
She only shrugged "You have time to learn."
"Why me?" He couldn't quite explain why he was avoiding just saying yes. He felt as if she would be disappointed by him accepting it without fight.
"You're one of the few males in Hogwarts who managed to have a conversation with me without becoming completely flustered. So that's a positive. Your owl is also beautiful, which is another positive. Congratulations, you have more positives than anyone else in this school. Will you be my dancing partner for the Yule Ball?"
"You are one of the rare male wizards in Hogwarts who have managed to hold a conversation with me without becoming completely flustered, that is already a major point. I also like your owl. Congratulations, you have more positives than anybody else in this school. Will you be my dancing partner for the Yule Ball?" He still hesitated, and she sensed it. She frowned "Merlin, Harry, why must you make this more complicated than it needs to be. Will you be my dancing partner?"
"I don't even know your name!"
"Fleur Delacour, pleasure. And now it's time for you to say yes."
"Yes." He said and she smiled at him.
"Finally. Now, all you need to do is to learn how to dance. I will expect to be the best couple out there, do you understand?"
"I will try"
"You will not try, Harry. You will succeed." She said and left him alone in the room.
"Hermione, do you know how to dance? "Harry asked her during their history of magic lesson. Ron was dozing off, providing them with a rare moment of privacy
"Harry?" She gave him a puzzled look.
"I need to learn how to dance," he admitted in a whisper, his cheeks turning a shade of red.
"Why?" She inquired.
"Never mind," he replied, turning his attention back to the lesson, which was about goblin rebellions, predictably.
"Is it because you have found out about Yule Ball and you want to ask out somebody? A girl?"
"What?" His cheeks getting even more red
"Or a boy?" she giggled
"…What?" He s
"Forget it," now she was the one blushing.
A few minutes later, after learning more obscure and useless things about Goblin wars of the past, Harry attempted again.
"Do you happen to know of any books about... dancing?"
In response, she started giggling even more. The giggle was so sudden and quite loud, nearby students groaned at being awakened, but upon seeing that the lesson hadn't finished yet, they quickly went back to their nap.
"I don't know any book that would be helpful to you… But I might know someone who can teach you" She replied, and he relaxed.
"Thank you"
"What's her name?"
He encountered Fleur again the following week, in a deserted corridor.
"Harry" she greeted him with a smile that instantly brightened his day. "How are your dancing lessons coming along?"
"They're… well going, "he responded, not wanting to admit that the start was hard.
"I heard even more rumours about you, Harry. Is it true that you can cast patronus charm?"
"How did you..."
"You are Harry Potter, people not only know a lot of things about you, but they also talk about it. Can you do it for me? Please? "She asked, he could never say no to her and he thought they both knew it.
"Sure." He thought of his memory about Sirius and casted. She smiled at the sight of his patronus, but for him it seemed like a sad one, but before he could ask, she started walking away, turning towards him just before the corner.
"It's a beautiful thing. Thank you."
The next day, she took the initiative once again and proposed a broomstick race. She didn't even wait for him to agree.
So as evening came by, they found themselves racing on their broomsticks. He beat her, but when he looked at her, he felt genuine joy radiating from her. And he was glad that he was able to make her so happy.
"Thank you, that was amazing." She said, hugging him. His cheeks flushed as he felt her warmth against his body.
They were engaging in a conversation within the confines of the same empty classroom that he accepted her offer to dance, when she abruptly rose from the ground.
"Let's duel." She said and by now he knew there was no denying her when she wanted something.
"Sure," He only said and stood up, with wand in his hand.
In their first duel, she overwhelmed him effortlessly, he never felt so useless in his life before. They went for another round, with same results.
She was in a different class than his own.
"Well, I guess you could always just fly away when a real fight comes" She remarked, and it was so sudden, unexpected and hurtful that he didn't know how to respond.
"Magic is a fickle thing, "Dumbledore said after his fit of coughs. "It can create amazing things, but it can also destroy them just as easily "he coughed again; this time blood came out. Snape looked at his old friend with worry but didn't mention it.
They were looking at the remains of Ravenclaw's Diadem. An invention by one of the great founders, a historical piece destroyed and gone like it never existed.
"Where did you find it?" Snape asked him.
"By investigating an old lead, I had suspicions about something after a second year and our lack of progress made me follow it. I am glad that I was wrong, and it was one area that Tom didn't fall to. There was a line he wouldn't cross, and it makes me feel better in a way. However, I am saddened that an old historical artifact was destroyed just like that."
"My potions aren't working you, and it's getting worse."
"Indeed, Severus. I don't understand what sickness ails me, but I feel that it's killing me slowly. But I accept my future, and I don't want you to worry about it."
He looked at Snape, and suddenly he was in a similar location as before. The Stranger was here.
"Magic is a fickle thing, really? "He started. "Magic is not doing anything that a human doesn't want it to do. You can't blame the tool for the actions of conscious beings"
"Who…Are you?" This time Dumbledore was slower.
"You always must know everything, Albus. But I am not here to tell you everything. Do you know why you feel the effects of it more than anybody else? I will tell you that. It's because I have decided that you deserve to suffer. Your neutrality has led to suffering of thousands, being neutral is just as bad as supporting evil. Neutrality is a concept that has no place in our world. You will suffer for all these people that died as a result of your inaction. But you will not die… Not yet."
Tell me about yourself, Harry Potter." They spent more and more time together, he treasured every moment of theirs that they spent together.
"I enjoy flying"
She snorted. "You also love getting into troublesome situations, don't you? The things I heard about you… It seems like you just go rushing into any situation, no matter the circumstances, a dashing hero from the stories, a true Gryffindor they call you. You would save everybody even if you meant your death."
"You're over-exaggerating, Fleur. I don't love getting into a trouble… It's just that often the trouble finds me instead… And I don't think myself as a hero, you know."
"You are wrong once again, my Harry. You are the biggest hero of them all. "
"Your Harry?" He asked sheepishly
"I might be getting to ahead of myself" She smiled. "And yet, you are also correct that the trouble manages to find you, no matter what. I did find you after all"
"You are trouble?" He asked
"We shall find out together, non?" She smiled and they dueled once again. She won.
"Hermione and Ron… They are great friends, aren't they?" She asked him.
"The best I could ever ask for."
Fleur smiled knowingly. "Friends are important, Harry. They keep us grounded, remind us of who we are, and support us in our hardest moments."
"I would not be alive if not for them. They are like family for me, and I would do anything for them. They would do the same for me."
"You are lucky to have such friends, Harry. Loyalty is precious quality, do not lose them."
"You learn about Severing Charm in the second year, you learn how to cast it in the third. Don't you find anything unusual about this?" She asked him after they finished their daily duels.
He looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?" he asked
She leaned forward, her expression serious. "Not only do we give our children a weapon from young age, a weapon that could hurt, maim or even kill without much effort. With simple words. It's not enough, non. We also teach them how to use that weapon, we teach them the methods that they could use to do precisely that. Do you think that children can truly grasp the power they hold in their hands? That they're mature enough to wield it? One wrong move, one wrong emotion and they could harm dozens, even hundreds of people. They could hurt their friends without being conscious about it. Do you think about that? You, Harry, with the power that you possess, could potentially cause the deaths of thousands, millions, all at the age of fourteen… If you wanted to"
He didn't answer for a moment, taking in her words. "When do you think they should learn then? Don't you think it's important that they learn how to control it if it's so dangerous? We can't hide ourselves from magic."
She sighed; her gaze distant. "Consider me something of a pacifist. I believe that no wizard, no one, really, should possess control of such immense power. We humans just simply aren't mature enough to handle that level of responsibility "
He looked at her unsure. "You would take away something that defines a wizard.
Fleur's eyes held a hint of sadness. "I would take away something that has the capacity to bring about destruction on massive scale, Harry. And if the consequences of my action would be simply that wizards become muggles… I would accept it with no single doubt in my mind. It's better than alternative."
"You would punish us all because of potential that somebody could commit such crime?"
Fleur's response was quiet. "Tell me this. What is the acceptable ratio that justifies granting such power to everybody? One person can and will cause the deaths of millions of innocent people, while the other nine will be good people. Tell the families of those who lost somebody they care about… That it's fine for everyone to possess such power, because it's only one wizard out of ten who's going to bring tragedy upon their lives."
The following day, Fleur approached Harry with yet another question.
"Let's play a game, Harry. "She began. "Name one person, a truly good person who you think deserves the kind of power that we have, somebody who is mature enough to handle it."
Without hesitation, he answered. "Albus Dumbledore"
Fleur's expression revealed a mixture of disappointment and understanding "You would have been more correct if you had named yourself, Harry. "She said, her tone gentle but firm "Despite all the time that we have spent time together, me teaching you… You still haven't grasped how important is that you should dig deeper to find out the truth. Albus Dumbledore might be the good guy now, but this hasn't always been the case."
Voldemort was gone. It started out with a cough that worsened every day, and it ended with his fragile not being able to handle the strain. His horcruxes gone before his own demise, destroyed by the virus.
Petter Pettigrew was sitting in a corner of the room; he was pale and trembling uncontrollably. Emotions were a distant memory for him now. He understood what thing had ended his former master; he knew that they were both betrayed by the thing that manipulated them from the start. The cure was useless, and he could feel his own magic fighting himself, slowly consuming him from inside. Coughing, he spat out blood. This should have been his moment.
At least… He was dying with the knowledge that, ultimately, it was his actions that would bring about the downfall of civilization. He could find solace in that, even if it meant dying like that. Then, suddenly, he found himself back in the same room where it had all begun.
"Before the last of your breath, I must make confession. "The Stranger appeared in front of him and continued speaking. "The deeds you believe you have done? They were not your own. Every action you thought you committed was orchestrated by me. You were my puppet, a mere tool to execute my will in this world. You stopped being relevant the moment Delacour entered the picture. I just wanted you to know… The creation of the disease, it was all me. You are not smart enough to create anything this complicated, you are just a rat that deserves nothing and you will get nothing. I bent the very rules of your magical realm, you are nothing, Peter Pettigrew. You played your part adequately when it was important, but now it's time to bid farewell. You will die knowing that you were a mere conduit, and your existence… Nobody will remember you, Peter. "
The Stranger's gaze lingered on decaying Wormtail, and with one last look, the body vanished from existence.
The following day, the once feared Dark lord's lifeless body was discovered in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, in the same spot where Bellatrix Lestrange had met her end.
Meanwhile, the disease has spread through the entire muggle world.
Unknown to the magical realm, they remained oblivious to the threat as it gradually encroached upon them. Their presumption of superiority over muggles will become tragic irony, for both worlds are destined to succumb to the same fate.
"The Hogwarts champion is… Cedric Diggory!" Dumbledore's voice reverberated through the Great Hall, soon drowned out by the applause and cheers of Hogwarts students. Everyone was happy for him. Ignorance is a bliss. The first parent of a muggle-born Hufflepuff died at the same moment, while his child was celebrating.
"Did you enjoy my present at the ministry? "The Stranger's voice interrupted his reading of latest reports
"What is happening?" Albus has found himself immobilized once more, a chilling familiarity settling in as his memories came back
"The world is ending, old man. And there's nothing you can do about it."
"Why… Why are you doing all of this?"
"You won't understand, and I don't care enough to make you understand."
"You're so young…You don't need to embark on this path. There's still time to make amends"
Stranger snorted. "You would know about amends, old man. I am afraid in my case, there isn't time, everything is predestined already. Humanity's reckoning is due."
"You're condemning billions for the sins of few."
"No, Albus. I'm condemning billions because they allowed those atrocities to be committed. Humans… Humans had a lot of time to fix things, to fix themselves. But they kept doing the same fucking thing, Albus. All over again, the cyclic pattern of history, and I don't want to continue this. I'm here to shatter this cursed cycle and grant humanity the peace it fucking deserves."
"You are wrong, my boy. Let me help you. Let me understand you."
"I am not wrong; how can you not comprehend? I am a fucking hero in this story, I will save everybody. I have a power to do so and I will do what is right. Understand this. There's no way to fix this. With my power… The only way to do so is to deprive individuals of their freedom of thoughts and actions, a right that nobody should have it taken away. Instead of existing within an artificial utopia under my rule, I will allow humans to remain free, and embrace death on their own terms, because it's the only option to save all of you."
"You are delusional."
"Perhaps."
"I will stop you."
"You can't, old man. The current events are far beyond your comprehension due your illness. You can't solve a puzzle when I have removed the pieces"
"Why?"
"You were always curious, your intelligence is scary, your desire to always delve deeper is frightening. Perhaps it's because I lack the capability to craft intricate mysteries, or maybe because my story doesn't need hero. There is no winning in this, old man. There's only a choice on how you're going to spend your last moments.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Kill you? You misunderstand me, Albus. You will keep digging, towards your end. You will suffer, and when I deem that it's enough…only then I will allow you to die."
"Bombarda!" With a flick of her wrist, the table shattered into dozen pieces. "Which year spell is this?"
"We learnt this one last week" He replied uncomfortably.
"This spell has responsible for hundreds of lives lost in those terror attacks. And a fourth-year student at Hogwarts already can cast it with ease. When do you think schools such as Durmstrang teaches their students this? Don't answer."
"It takes skill and effort to make it powerful"
"Wrong, Harry. All it takes is determination. If you're driven enough, your magic will allow you to do anything."
"What made you this way, Fleur?" He asked suddenly and for the first time she seemed surprised. She looked away. "Tell me about you,Fleur. I want to know what happened to you… For you to think like this. Help me understand."
"Why?"
"Have you not realized that yet? Because I care about you, Fleur. "
"No. Just don't."
"Just don't? What does that mean? "
"Stop this. Why did you start caring me about me? Non, stop caring, Harry. Our relationship cannot go further than this"
"You keep repeating this, and yet you don't want to tell me why. "
"Why doesn't matter, Harry." She replied sadly "Our relationship would bring nothing but pain to you, and I don't want that. What we have right now is good enough. Let's duel."
She was distracted, she was out of form and they managed to tie. Only he didn't feel satisfied.
