This one took all my free time to finish but I'm happy with the result. I hope you all enjoy it as well! :)
-REVISED 4/2/2023.-
I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.
Touched By War
Harry sprinted at full speed through the large acre forest surrounding the Flamel home in Sweden. It was hard avoiding trees when his attention was constantly in the sky, but this game was difficult enough as it was without seeing where she was coming from. It turned out teaching Nova to flame was similar to the game Harry Hunting, minus the beatings. The early stage of their union was the best time to teach her to flame. In the infancy of their bond, Nova's need to be with her companion was so strong, she would abhor being away from him for any length of time. Nova would chase him. She would catch him and clutch onto him with a painful grip as strong as a hug from Hagrid.
Nicolas instructed Harry to apparate no more than thirty feet away every time she tried to cling to him. "This will also help your awareness of one another," he said. "Eventually, Nova will be quite upset over being unable to stay with you, she'll flame right to you."
It was heart-breaking to feel Nova's longing for Harry, nevertheless he practiced all week. Infant though Nova may be, she was still the size of a hawk and an extremely capable flier. With her powerful wings, she had an easy time catching him on the plains, but in the thick forest, it was much harder for her. Still, Harry had to keep a sprinting pace for as long as he could, as well as be ready on a moment's notice to apparate just far enough out of the legendary bird's fast talons.
Harry could feel Nova's approach. He scanned the wooded space around him and locked onto a landing to disappear to when a sharp whip of wind announced the sudden aerial drop of his familiar. Harry turned exactly as Nova was extending her claws to sink into his shoulder when he apparated precisely to the spot he picked about fifteen feet away. After a week of this game, Nova was sharp enough to know where he'd land and flapped powerful gusts to stop before altering course to give chase. Harry had just enough time to set his sight on the next target spot and apparate. The distance was still too short, and Nova was not far behind.
Harry was constantly apparating away with Nova close behind. A dozen jumps later, Harry took to the skies when he had no viable option on the ground, but the air was Nova's domain. Just barely avoiding capture, Harry apparated to the edge of a cliff. The amazing bird dived sharply with the aid of a powerful gust of wind and just before claws sank into him, he hurled himself off the cliff's edge.
"Come on, Nova!" Harry yelled, ignoring the rapidly approaching ground to extend his hand.
Harry wasn't sure how their bond communicated, but he knew there was communication. It reminded him so vividly of Hedwig, he was certain Nova would understand what he wanted. He had felt it for a few days now and could tell Nova was close. She just needed a little push.
Seeing your master fall off a cliff and extend his hand out for help seemed to do the trick, and Nova flared brilliantly, disappearing a moment before appearing in front of him in a fast burst of fire and clutching at the flesh of his arm in very familiar pain. They flamed away together. Harry noted that the characteristics between flaming and apparating were fundamentally different, and most certainly better. It was less of a tunneling, twirling feeling and more of a bursting through a water-like pressure as Harry and Nova landed on soft grass.
Uninjured and firmly on the ground, Harry lifted his arm to raise Nova up to eye level. "That was bloody brilliant!" he said with a broad smile. "I knew you could do it!" Nova chirped and cawed happily. "I'm completely serious," Harry answered, somehow understanding the gesture of crowing. "I don't think there's a better way to travel than that."
Nova hopped from Harry's arm to his shoulder, punching eight more holes into his flesh. Harry couldn't say he minded the pain. After all, he had been through far worse, and something in her talons eventually nullified the pain, though he'd prefer not to constantly have to repair the holes punched in his clothes. They practiced flaming short distances rapidly, then to farther and farther distances. Harry learned that it did put a strain on Nova, so he continued pushing her until she couldn't flame anymore.
"Great job, girl," Harry softly said as he cradled and petted his phoenix. "I only wanted to see how far you could go. Get some rest now. You've earned it."
It didn't take Harry more than one jump to return with Nova in his arms from Africa to Sweden. Walking through the door, Harry found the Flamels organizing their belongings for the move into their brownstone in London when Nicolas asked, "How did it go?" Perenelle exited the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel and perked up to listen.
"We managed to flame," Harry answered with a half-smile. "Made it to Africa before she hit her limit."
"That's exceptional for her age," Perenelle called out. She set down a bowl of salad on the dining table. "I'll get her some bacon. After some rest, she'll recover quickly."
"Just in time for the World Cup tonight," Nicolas pointed out. "Are you certain you need to take her?"
"I wasn't going to at first, but it'll be a good opportunity to test flaming against anti-apparating wards," Harry answered as he took his seat at the dining table. "I don't want any surprises if I need to flame out within Hogwarts' wards. Is the room in the brownstone ready?"
"I've stocked it with everything you asked," Nicolas answered, a hint of distaste in his voice. It was obvious he wasn't fond of dark pain-inducing potions. "Are you truly willing to go so far?" Nicolas asked. "I understand what's at stake, if only from a peripheral point of view, but those potions do some terrible, irreversible devastation to the body."
Harry began with his soup and only paused for a moment to say, "Whatever it takes."
He had already given them the option to be absent from the interrogation. Personally, he wasn't sure how much he would be able to stomach torturing others, but he knew he would go to any lengths to save his friends. In Harry's mind, the time for stunning the enemy, then locking them away in Azkaban so Voldemort could later free them and continue his reign of terror was over. That passive way of fighting this evil had clearly failed and he would not let it happen again. Everything that happened now would be fighting fire with fire.
Before Harry departed, his features had to be altered to a more permanent stasis than the short-lived charms they'd been using for their previous outings. From this moment on, Harry would need an alteration more durable to avoid looking like James Potter, but comfortable to walk around the throes of the wizarding community. Perenelle and Nicolas seemed all too eager to help 'create the character,' as Nicolas put it.
His hair was lengthened to his shoulder with a potion of Perenelle's creation and she gathered his shiny jet black hair back into a ponytail but with a knot instead of a normal fall. Surprisingly, his unruly hair behaved under the potion's influence. He almost chuckled when he realized Hermione would probably trade her books for the hair taming potion on his head. The unique hairstyle did a lot to attract attention away from his familiar face.
"Apply it once a month to make sure that unruly mop stays," Perenelle instructed.
Of course, Nicolas couldn't leave it there—that wasn't enough 'visual story' for an heir of the Noble House of Flamel. Just under the skin, Nicolas used a darker skin tone ink he brewed to imitate scar tissue and magically tattooed two very distinctive lines of scarring, meant to allude they'd been gained in a fight by a sharp blade of some kind. One scar ran from the left side of his forehead, down his left brow—interrupting the hair of his left eyebrow midway—completely avoiding his left eye and continuing with a smaller line cut in his cheek. Another smaller length was drawn counter to the length of his nose—at the middle—and stretched a little past the nostrils.
"There you are," Nicolas stepped back to admire his work. "It'll add more credibility to your skill level, and at the same time, the larger scars detract from the smaller one on your forehead."
"Very rugged," Perenelle added with a clap of her hands. "It's not permanent, but it can't be removed easily either, so no need to worry about it being washed away, rogue charms, or the like."
Harry examined himself in the mirror, and it was jarring how much those little alterations broke away from his family resemblance. If one looked closely enough and had an eye for detail, he still looked like his father, but with his hair cleanly pulled back in a knot, canvassing more attention on his eye-catching scars, he wouldn't be mistaken for the late James Potter easily. With any luck, it might even keep others from getting too close to him.
Harry landed just outside the anti-apparition ward that covered the grand area of the World Cup and walked from there. The moment his foot passed through the ward, Harry was zapped with an impression of the sheer power holding the immensity of this ward in place. It was like standing underneath a strong waterfall. Mentally noting the experience for further investigation at a later time, Harry continued on with his mission. He was several hours early, but clearly not early enough. At least half of the grounds that he could see were already covered in magical tents, with drunk witches or wizards walking about or clumped together in jolly groups.
Being seen by others was of little concern to him, but Nova, on the other hand, was quite distinctive. Even if it was mostly black with bright red accents, it was still a phoenix and easily attention-grabbing by nature. Due to her magical nature, she naturally resisted most magic placed on her, including the disillusioning charm. The next logical step they tried was placing a small invisibility cloak over her, but she was either too young to sit still or didn't like the idea of hiding her beauty, and wiggled right out of the loose garment.
With only one real solution left, Harry asked Nova, "Fancy a bit of flying, dear?" Nova turned her beak to Harry and gave him a critical eye, which he took to mean, 'Is this a trick?' "No, not anymore. That was just so you can learn to flame, nothing more," he answered. "I'm not leaving ya, I promise. I'll be down here the entire time, and when I need you, I'll call."
Nova squawked and shuffled closer to his head with a grip that made Harry wince, seemingly saying she was unfavorable to the concept of leaving him.
"Oh, come on girl. This is a mission, and it won't be good if everyone starts crowding me to look at how beautiful you are." Nova ruffled her feathers, extended her neck, and flapped her powerful wings. The gust was so strong that Harry had to engage his core muscles and legs to keep from being pulled with her. "Of course, I want people to see how beautiful you are, but right now, the mission has to come first. You understand, right?" Nova seemed to slump and lower her head sadly. "Oh, don't be like that. Really, I don't want to separate from you either, but people's lives are at risk. It's the most important thing to me that I save them. Won't you help me save them?"
Apparently, Nova understood that because she responded energetically. Without a moment's hesitation, she extended her wings and with a single flap, took to the air like an arrow shot out of a bow. The gust flustered and stirred his dark robes wildly, prompting Harry to raise his collar to his jaw. As she soared high at a swift pace, Harry felt how happy she was to help and how much of that positive nature reminded him of Hedwig. The sentiment lasted no longer than a moment as the world reminded him of his mission with a rowdy group of magicals singing to Victor Krum's eventual victory.
Harry trolled the pathways around the tents and through the growing crowds of witches and wizards, young and old, in fanciful colors and memorabilia. He moved fast to avoid giving anyone the chance to stop him but more importantly because he had a lot of ground to cover. As he passed witches and wizards, Harry drew in many curious looks. While some glances lingered, possibly trying to place him, or peered at his scars, none bothered to approach him as he quickly moved about.
Speeding through the crowds was also a byproduct of what he had gone through. Being among large crowds took more getting used to than he expected. For so long, decades really, it had only been him in his mindscape with his Devil God and torturer, Horcrux-Voldemort for company. Looking around at a merry gathering of people almost gave Harry a sense of panic. The sudden shift of exposure from tortuous silence, to being surrounded by heavy, abundant joy and laughter was a harsh reality check. It was so disorienting Harry had to use his occlumancy to keep his mind focused and his fluctuating emotions balanced. It was so distressing, Harry could tell even Nova was concerned, prompting him to find a private space to calm himself. Drawing from his celebrity experience as The-Boy-Who-Lived actually helped him deal with his rising agitation, bothering him less and less.
Harry stayed closer to the treeline and scanned anyone he could see for any connection to Death Eaters. He couldn't say he knew every witch or wizard who was a death eater but he only needed one. Malfoy, Carrow, Dolohov, Macnair, Nott, Goyle, Crabbe. Anyone to follow to wherever they all might gather. He only needed a string to pull on so he could find the rest. And with any luck he might be able to prevent the zealots from hurting anyone that day. Spending hours combing through the large area and increasingly growing gathering, he didn't spot a single Death Eater or suspected Death Eater. Harry even looked for the children of Death Eaters, but again, nothing.
As the match was about to start, Harry stayed close to the stadium. He recalled seeing Draco at some point and figured he could follow him to his father. Instead, he saw a very familiar head of red hair, among a large family of red heads.
Ron, Hardwin Potter, and the Weasley clan all walked together to the delight of witches and wizards nearby. The pair were clearly great friends as they talked boisterously together, surrounded by the other Weasleys, happily strolling through the entrance of the stadium. Harry was so shocked to see Ron he barely acknowledged his... brother? ...Other self? In either case, the string of traumatic memories brought along his crippling guilt. Harry couldn't stop comparing how happy and joyous this-Ron looked with flashes of his-Ron's dead and decaying head hanging on a spike. Harry leaned heavily against a tree and took unsteady steps to move deeper into the cover of trees, hiding from public discovery before slumping down to the moist dirt floor.
His guilt was so strong, his occlumancy could not keep it all at bay. The failure of being unable to protect his best mate restored his panic with intense savagery. So much so, Harry did not even realize Nova was on his knee until its beautiful calming song broke through his cloud of indescribable guilt and excessive culpability. Focusing on his familiar's song helped tremendously, and for the sake of his sanity, he allowed the song's serenity to fill him and chase away his terrible onus. Harry's breathing eventually returned to its normal rate, and he was so grateful that he pulled Nova in for a hug.
"Thank you, girl," he conveyed dearly. He lifted himself to his feet, forcing Nova to flap her wings a couple of times to land on his shoulder. "I feel loads better," he admitted.
Judging by the dimming light, it was evening. Harry knew the game had started, and he was likely to have missed a few opportunities to tail a Death Eater. Ignoring the debilitating shock of seeing Ron alive and in good spirits, Harry considered other possibilities when the snap of a breaking twig blared in his ears like the sound of a cannon. Instinct kicked in, and Harry's wand slid effortlessly out of his wrist holster as he spun towards the source of the sound. In less than a split second, he was ready to stun first and check to see if it was a threat later.
Harry caught the silver blonde hair and hands raising before he instantly reacted and put Draco Malfoy down with a strong stunner. Harry was relieved he had only stunned Draco and not an innocent bystander. Still, this Draco wouldn't know him, so for all the pasty git knew, he got stunned for no reason. Upon further inspection, Malfoy did not even have his wand out. Harry had a quick deliberation in his mind about the most appropriate next step. He decided to disillusion and silence himself, then wake Draco up. Hopefully, the Malfoy scion would lead him to wherever his family parked their tent.
As Malfoy sat up, groaning and checking himself, Harry watched from a few feet away. On his feet, the Slytherin boy was dusting himself off as Harry prayed Draco would lead him somewhere good when the blond suddenly started talking to himself. "I'm not crazy," he muttered to himself as a point of argument. "That was Potter... I know it was."
Harry was flabbergasted at hearing him say that. He did nothing as Draco looked around for a few moments. Seemingly unable to decide on what to do next, he leaned against the very tree Harry was leaning against earlier. He looked depressed, Harry noted, far more than he had ever seen growing up. The blonde scion, in his rich robes, slid down to the dirt floor, picked at the grass around him, and threw it. Obviously, he was troubled about something, and Harry wondered if this was an act of some kind.
'What could he mean?' Harry thought to himself. There was no way this Draco would confuse him and Hardwin. Add to that, James Potter had still died years before.
For a long time, Draco just sat against the tree and Harry watched on. Even as the first few cheers sounded off from the stadium, Draco seemed no more interested in the international quidditch game than he did in the grass he carelessly ripped from the ground and tossed in no particular direction. Something was definitely off with this Draco. Harry reasoned this display must have been one of the changes due to the ripple created traveling back in time.
"How..." Malfoy suddenly said. "How, how, how, how, hOW, HOW, HOW, HOW!" His voice crescendoed from low and simply curious to loud and demanding.
Harry removed his silencing charm, but added the best privacy spell he knew to the area so others couldn't overhear and quietly asked, "How what?" He didn't really understand why he was changing his plan from surveillance to open dialog, but there was something strange enough about Draco that a direct approach could tell him more than lurking in the shadows.
Malfoy sat up at the sound, yelling, "Who's there?" before he had the sense to fumble for his wand. Looking around desperately, Draco pointed his wand downward. Harry didn't assume it was a submissive move, and he was right when Draco cast a spell to transfigure the ground to mud. Harry quickly and silently cast an immobulus on the ground he was standing on, making it seem like there was no weight pushing the mud down as Draco sank to his ankle in the mud he created. Harry noted the Slytherin's cleverness when a sudden wind moved the mud a bit and that's when Draco saw the still hard ground underneath an invisible Harry.
"It's you, isn't it Potter?!" Draco exclaimed, oddly enough, in a hopeful tone. "It's actually you!"
Harry took a moment to answer, "No. My name's not Hardwin."
"Is it Harry?" Draco asked with a cocky tilt of his head. "Cuz that's the only Potter I know."
Harry was at a loss. The unexpected had yet again put him at a disadvantage. The moment of silence extended to uncomfortable levels for Draco, but Harry needed a few moments to know how bad of an obstacle Draco was. For a second, Harry wondered if he should take Draco and torture him for information but realized whatever vital information Draco knew, it wouldn't have anything to do with Voldemort. He was just too young for him to know anything important.
Harry nonverbally called Draco's wand to him and stuck the yelping boy to the tree behind him with a sticking charm before revealing himself. Harry transfigured the mud back into solid ground, trapping Draco to his ankles in the hard cold dirt before stepping just close enough so Harry's death white wand was pressed threateningly to his neck.
"Explain!" Harry demanded at a near shout.
Draco suffered the second it took for Harry to subdue him in silence, but his gaze was clearly angered. Draco's pride and entitlement were ingrained into his marrow and for him to be detained like this took a grand effort on his part to keep from yelling indignities.
"Oh-kay! Okay," Draco announced. "I won't do anything."
"You can't do anything. There's a difference," Harry retorted. "I'm giving you twenty seconds, Malfoy. Fill them with words or I'm going to break into your skull and take the answers before I wipe it clean. Now talk!" Harry yelled, leaning in, brow knotted, and dangerously serious. He had had enough surprises and emotional instability for one day. Now was the time for answers.
"I'm from the future!" Draco proclaimed quickly when he saw a red electric current quickly travel the length of his wand and Harry's irises glow green. "I'm from the future okay! Just like you."
"How?!" Harry yelled, not even attempting to deny it. A collective whoop and energetic cries erupted from the stadium, but Harry's focus was singular, and nothing and no one was going to interrupt him from getting his answers.
"I- I..." Draco tried to come up with something, and the wide eyes Harry gave him provoked him to just vomit words with little meaning or punctuation as they formed in his head. "I don't know... it happened… I got sucked in like, I don't know. I don't know. I was there, watching runes in blood. I mean blood runes one moment. And the next, I just woke up in my bed. Forty years in the past."
"Malfoy," Harry breathed to calm his thinning patience. "You need to start making more sense or this'll be the last time you have memory."
Draco took the risk of closing his eyes a moment to collect himself, but Harry shook him to keep him off balance. Harry realized Draco would make less sense if he didn't have his wits about him, but he could decipher the garbled mess after he wiped his mind clean. Because there was no way Harry was going to allow Draco Malfoy of all people to run loose and ruin his plans. He wouldn't! And that determination was only feeding his rage.
Draco fumbled to speak, but it was clearer than earlier. "I came from the future," he started. "I know I did because... because I know what happened, and what was going to happen. I had everything. We won. We beat you. No one could stand in our way, and we didn't stop at the wizarding world. We conquered the muggle world as well. And you, you, the champion of light, were rotting in a black cell, and your friends were..." Draco stopped, eyes widened, and for the smallest moment, Harry guessed the blonde spent an infinity of time in his head, in his memory.
When the far-off look passed, he continued, "They were... treated the worst." The crowd erupted in the background with a chorus of boos and cheers, and after they grew silent, Draco said in a quiet voice. "We sent you their heads—all their heads. Anyone we thought meant something to you."
Harry paused his righteous fury and acknowledged the overwhelming memory, causing Draco to look away in shame. "It was my idea," he said in a small voice. Harry's fury pleaded to kill Draco when the blonde captive started to ramble as much as he could in the moment Harry took to raise his wand to his neck again. "I don't deserve to live!" he yelled. "I know I don't... and I didn't! I didn't. The dark lord... he killed me."
When Draco noticed Harry pause, he kept going. "I was twenty-seven, and thought everything was finally as it should be. Pure-bloods in their rightful place and everyone else... gone or broken. I was married. I just had my first child and the joy I felt in that moment was immeasurable... Honestly, I didn't think such a love could exist. Then it happened. There was a decree that all first born would be sacrificed in a ritual so the Dark Lord could create a soul shard. Not slaves, or muggleborns, or any of the other races we imprisoned, but pure-blood. I learned then, I did," he chuckled sadly.
"Pure-bloods never mattered. My boy... My beautiful- I couldn't... It was my first born, Potter. My baby boy! I took him and ran, but of course, I was also the first born. My alleged family served me and my boy to that monster, and if it had been quick, I might've moved on, but- bu- ...he b-butchered my son in front of me! For his own amusement! My parents, my wife, just watching!"
Harry didn't need to use legilimency to see that the anguish in Draco's words and the shattered expression on his heartbroken face were completely genuine. The tears flowed freely, reddening the rims on his troubled eyes, but stuck as he was, Draco could not wipe them. After a moment to himself, likely to move past the flashes of venomous memory, he continued.
"He didn't kill me right away. Torture, rape, always playing a never-ending loop of what he'd done to my son in my head. And when he finally got bored of me, he killed me in front of my wife and parents. He didn't even use me for his ritual. I know because my soul refused to move on. I couldn't. What right did I have to join my beautiful boy? How could I justify what happened? What I allowed to happen? What I was complicit in creating, and how it would eventually murder his innocent life? ...I couldn't.
"I awoke in Azkaban. I don't know if that's where he killed me or if it's where I wandered to, but I eventually found you in the deepest, darkest cell. At first, I didn't know why I couldn't leave that cell. I tried, often, but as the years passed, constantly looking at you survive each day, I discovered why I could not pass and see my son. I saw it in your withering face. I learned I was wrong, Potter. I was wrong about it all!"
Harry chose to ignore Draco's revelation about his friend's heads, the abandonment of his parents, and even the murder of his son with absolute effort. He even forwent the possibility of Draco's spirit haunting him all those years. He knew it was all important, but he didn't have enough time to consider it properly. He wasn't even sure if it was entirely true, but if Draco really was a spirit, he must have seen the runes Horcrux-Voldemort drew on the walls in his blood. This knowledge could lead to time travel if discovered.
It wasn't the complete puzzle, but if Snape, Dumbledore, or Merlin forbid, a risen Voldemort looked into his mind for whatever reason, and learned of what he saw, it could be catastrophic. Harry didn't want any of those men to possess that kind of knowledge. Even if Voldemort was technically genius enough to figure it out on his own, he was currently not motivated to. This knowledge must be safeguarded and taken with Harry to his grave.
Harry wasn't even sure what other disadvantages Malfoy might cause to hamper his goals in the short or long term, but the son of the best arse-licking Death Eater couldn't learn about the possibility of time travel. Draco was too much of a wild card, who he couldn't, unfortunately, kill without people noticing or altering the already off-path past more than it was. Harry wasn't sure of anything, and the only option he could see that would keep his plans solid moving forward was to probe Malfoy's mind, then obliviate him to his birth.
Draco was waiting for Harry to say something, but when he did, it was clearly not what Draco wanted to hear. "I'm sorry your son had a piece of shite like you for a father. He didn't deserve that." Harry raised his wand to his temple as Draco looked nervously at it. "If it makes you feel any better, I won't forget him."
Before Harry could obliviate him, Draco yelled, "I'll swear a loyalty oath! I'll swear it on my magic, on my life! Please! Please let me..."
"Please?" Harry gasped, a mixture of confusion and anger. "Please, please, please what Malfoy? What are you begging for here? To let you live your miserable life? Don't worry, I am! Not because you deserve to, but only because it'll raise too much of a stink if I killed you."
"Not to live," Draco cried, shaking his head earnestly. "That's not-"
"I can't bring your son back," Harry cut him off.
"I want to kill the dark Lord!" Draco yelled over the boom of a cheering stadium of witches and wizards. "I want him dead. By my hand, yours, little Colin Creevey for all I care! Anyone! So long as that snake bastard is goblin food and passing bowels... anything, anything is worth it! I'll do it, Potter! I swear it."
It was the first time Harry had seen this amount of strength or determination in Draco's eyes. He had known Draco for a long time, and this resolve was more intense than he had ever expressed even in his bigotry. The smart thing to do would be to obliviate the blond ferret, but a loyalty oath was nothing to overlook. Harry automatically calculated the possibilities in the back of his mind. He could choose to ignore this liability-now-turn-opportunity... but would he? Draco passing him insider information from the den of snakes was enticing, enough so to still his wand and allow Draco to plead his case.
"Let me prove it to you!" Draco shouted. "That's all I ask."
"It's not all you're asking," Harry countered. "How else are you supposed to make an oath without your wand? You want me to give it back but how can I possibly trust you? YOU! You're solely responsible for showcasing their heads!"
"I know! …I...I know," Draco agreed, a great shame returning to his eyes. "I was wrong in so many ways about so many things for my entire life! That's why I have to make it right. I have to help you make it right."
"Why?!" Harry spontaneously asked. "How could you possibly do that?"
"We're in the past, Potter!"
"That doesn't mean you're any different! I still remember! I will always remember you!"
Draco looked stricken but accepting. He turned to Harry again, strength in his eyes. "I don't want to be that anymore. I couldn't even if I tried. Give me my wand, and I will swear to you my life—to always be loyal to you."
"Why, Malfoy?" Harry asked. "Not that I especially care, but do you know what that means? After learning how you butchered my friends, how do you know I won't just make you end yourself? Maybe make you take your parents with you? A good ol' dramatic murder-suicide ends the Malfoy line. That might actually make me giggle," Harry said angrily, without any trace of warmth.
"Because I told you!" Malfoy yelled. "You only know because I told you. I wouldn't have if I didn't think you were the best way of killing that thing. And yes, all pure-blood noble families know about loyalty oaths. We're raised to never give them. Even Voldemort didn't demand loyalty oaths. But if that's what it takes, I'll do it, gladly." They stared at each other, stretching the moment as they took measure of each other's sincerity. Harry slowly lowered his wand, and Draco added, "Let's not forget that I know you too, Potter. If you commanded me to kill myself, I wouldn't blame you, but I know you'd never ask any of your followers to sacrifice their lives or the lives of their children for some pointless ritual."
Harry couldn't disagree on that point, except to say,"...I didn't have followers. I have friends... had friends."
"That's my point," Draco said. "You didn't see them as a means to an end. They mean more to you. Everyone around you means something to you. Life has meaning to you, and that's the kind of world children should live in."
Against his better and vengeful judgment, Harry decided to risk it by slamming Draco's wand hard against the silver-blond's chest. "Just give me one reason, and you're dead!" Harry promised. With the scars and the green of his eyes slightly glowing, Draco didn't doubt it for an instant.
When Harry allowed Draco movement, he slowly lifted his wand. "I, Draco Malfoy, do solemnly swear, on my magic, on my life, to serve, defend, and support Harry James Potter in all his endeavors to the best of my abilities. I furthermore swear to never break his trust, to never divulge his secrets, and never betray him to any party by any means without consent until such time he releases me from my oath. So mote it be."
Immediately after, a wave of flashing, rainbow light surrounded the boys, filling them with a peculiar sensation, like standing next to a warm person you couldn't see. It left as abruptly as it formed and Harry couldn't help but say, "You idiot."
"Just because I pledged my allegiance to you doesn't mean I'm going to keep letting you talk to me like that. I'm a Mal-" Draco pulled up short, and again, Harry saw that agony in his eyes that could only come from the worst memories.
Just because Harry wasn't killing or obliviating him didn't mean he'd let him slide. "Say it! You're a Malfoy, you arrogant sod! You were the reason my friends' heads were mounted on spikes, and you want me to treat you with respect?! Like you've earned it?"
"I can't answer for myself," Draco chimed. "Not for who I was. I know what I did can never be forgiven, but we're here now, and I promise you who I can be is going to be a hell of a lot different. I won't ever forget, but for what it's worth, I'm-"
"Don't even bother! Your apology's worth fuck all to me," Harry spat.
Draco didn't seem offended, even by a small margin. It was such a weird turn of events, but Harry was confident enough to remove the rest of the sticking charm. He took a few steps back to allow Draco to uproot his buried feet, but Harry's wand was still out, partly raised, and eager for any excuse to unleash his turbulent magic. Draco put his wand away and massaged the aches in his muscles.
Several long moments of silence passed before Harry asked, "How much did you know about what I did to get back?"
Draco's face morphed from a show of jolted curiosity to deep thought. "Mnn. Not a whole lot. I saw runes that I couldn't place... in your own blood no less. And then nothing until the moment you... I don't know. As a spirit, it looked like an explosion of colorful light. When I felt, actually felt something, a pulling, I wanted to run like the rest of the spirits, but instead, I got pulled into this white circle. Next thing I know, I woke up in my bed, in the past. What did you do? I've never seen or heard of magic like that."
"How's your occlumancy?" Harry followed up, ignoring Draco's inquiry. "Do you have mental shields against legilimency?"
"Most pure-blood families train their children in occlumancy from an early age," Malfoy answered confidently. "I'd say mine are fairly strong."
"Do you mind if I test them?" Harry asked, taking a step closer to the blonde.
Malfoy was slightly taken aback by Harry's intense proximity, but he cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, go ahe-"
Before Malfoy could finish, Harry slammed into Malfoy's shield with a decent amount of power. Harry could sense Draco wobbling on his feet at the unexpected mental impact, but he stayed upright. To Harry's surprise, his shields held. He then started analyzing the surface of the mental obstruction for weak points. Finding no easy entry, Harry focused his probe into a fine point and targeted a smaller mark. Harry applied more force behind his attack and easily pierced through Draco's protection. Harry managed to see the baby face of a boy who looked very similar to Draco before he exited. Back in his awareness, Harry located Draco on the mud ground, gripping his head with a hand, a look of obvious pain on his face.
"How'd you do that?" Malfoy asked with a grunt. "I fortified my shields the second I got back. They're about as strong as future me... before I died."
"They're not bad," Harry noted. "They'll hold up well against most, but the shield needs an alternating pattern to help absorb and divert pin-point intrusions. Pin-point attacks aren't good against thick shields but with enough force they can be devastating."
"Fine," was all Draco replied. He allowed a few more moments of silence before tentatively asking, "How did you get us back?" Malfoy could see he brought Harry out of his thoughts. "They fed you moldy bread every other day. Weak as you were, how?"
Harry was skeptical to answer, but settled on saying, "What you saw could be dangerous in the wrong hands, Malfoy. I would rather you die than let Voldemort, Snape, or anyone see what you saw. That knowledge can never get out, understand me? Never!"
"Alright," Draco responded. "I get it."
Realizing much time had passed and the game would end soon, Harry asked, "Where are you guys camped, anyway? I've been looking for any Death Eater for hours."
"I'm not a Death Eater," Malfoy reflexively retorted. At Harry's tilt of his head, as if to say, 'Come on,' he amended himself. "Not anymore. And there's a deluxe lounge inside the stadium." Harry tilted his head up, clearly annoyed for not thinking of looking inside the stadium and let out a deep exhale of disappointment.
'Of course, there'd be,' Harry mentally berated himself. 'Why would they congregate with the 'lowly' and 'undignified?'
"Where were you?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "I thought you'd be with Hardwin and your mother. I had to walk away from that sniveling little brat looking for you."
"Wait, what?" Harry genuinely directed at Draco, letting his head tilt in his direction. "Why would I be with my- with them?"
"Where the bloody hell else would you be?" Draco asked as if that were an obvious query. "Some things are different, sure, but not everything. I'd expect a Potter to be with a Potter."
"I'm not Hardwin," Harry asserted, confused with Draco's line of questioning. "You know that, right?"
Now Draco looked as confused as Harry felt. "I think I'd know who I've been talking to this whole time. You're Harry, Hardwin's brother."
"No, I'm not..." Harry exclaimed nearly defensively, feeling that familiar lack of insight, like a child too young to understand a dirty joke. "There is no Harry Potter in this timeline," Harry maintained.
"That can't be possible," Draco returned. "There has to be one here, or you wouldn't have a body to return to."
Harry turned that information over in his mind, correlating it with what he had felt when he first got there, then theorizing what connections he could make.
Draco took that moment to continue. "I'll admit I don't know specifically about a Harry Potter. I don't recall one in my newer memories, and no one seems to have heard of one. My family thought I was a touch mad when I kept asking. As a spirit, I knew the human body was like an anchor to the soul. You couldn't be here, talking and walking, unless there was a body here for your spirit to return to... unless your body came back as well?" Draco scratched his chin, thinking more on it, and then asked, "But then why would you be young again? If your body came back, it should be as old as you were- er, or become? This is a little confusing. Did you make it so your body could reverse in age? But even the Flamels couldn't reverse age. But then they never went back in time either..."
Harry stopped paying attention to Draco as he worked over Horcrux-Voldemort's extensive math and rune work. The arithmancy and natural magic were indeed intended to only send their spirits as the parasite postulated his body couldn't survive the power he was imbued with. They both knew he was supposed to lose his withered and decaying body, but for him to return in a near-death-like state... something wasn't adding up.
The questions storming around his mind centered around his death-like state… Draco was right. He should have returned into a body; otherwise, he'd be a spirit wandering the earth. This might also explain his Horcrux. The parasite wasn't a part of his soul and may have been separated, or purified might be a better word, from his own soul in the all-consuming portal to the past.
Harry turned to Draco and asked, "Do you remember this life as well as the previous?"
Draco was clearly expecting an answer to any of his many questions, but with a huff of irritation, he answered, "Yes. There are some differences, but nothing diverged too much from the original time. For the most part, everything was the same."
Harry returned to the quarry of questions in his mind, sifting through the deep pit for the most pertinent ones. Why didn't he and the Flamels read anything about a Harry Potter in their research? Why was he in such a state when the Flamels found him? Why did the memories of the newer time line stop when he was six? The pit of his stomach felt something dark develop and fester, alerting him to hard answers ahead.
At the sudden yell of the crowd and the announcement declaring the Irish the champions, Harry ran out of time. The celebration quickly spilled out into the camped fields when Harry turned to Draco. "Where are they attacking people from?" he demanded to know.
"I- I don't know," Draco answered when he recalled Harry's asking about the death eater attack. "They never told me beforehand. When father left, I just thought he was going to get shitfaced. I left too. Later we ran into you, Granger, and Weasley."
"Damn it Malfoy," Harry spat before he started walking out of the forest. Harry could never have expected Malfoy or any of the resulting revelations. Now the chances of capturing a high-value Death Eater was reduced to nothing.
"Oi!" Malfoy called, running after him. "Potter!"
Harry immediately turned around, forcing Malfoy to abruptly stop and pull up mid-step. "From now on, don't call me Potter. Don't call me Harry either. That just sounds weird coming from you." Harry turned and hurried through the tree line to the crowd.
"Fine," Draco accepted with a roll of his eyes, as if he liked using the name anyway. "What do I call you, then?" He asked as he followed the green-eyed boy.
"Don't worry about it," Harry called behind his back, then stopped and turned to him. "Until I figure out how I want to include you, work on your occlumency, and don't write anything down. I'll meet you on the train."
Without another word, Harry took off, recalling where he, Hermione, and Ron were when it all started last time. Without knowing the large acres of terrain better, he decided to play it safe and stay closer to the tree line, listening for screams. Harry was passing by a group of Bulgaria's fans, bemoaning the lack of quality players among their national team.
"All but Krum," one drunkenly yelled, and they all echoed, "Aye, ayes," when someone, a witch, slammed into the group, knocking two to the floor and spilling more drinks. They cried and hollered the injustice when the witch screamed and desperately rushed to her feet, pointing behind her. The others didn't understand right away that her screams were not of joy or merriment, and in their sloshed state, they probably couldn't.
Already sprinting in the direction she pointed to, Harry looked out for any sign of violence, any sounds of tyranny. He could feel his heart hammering unholy hell in his chest corresponding eerily well with his barely contained magic, boiling to break free. Harry truly couldn't understand why his magic suddenly felt so uncontrollable, but a loud, ear-piercing scream ripped him from his thoughts.
In no time at all, he was racing toward the helpless victim, passing scores of frightened and fleeing witches and wizards. Most in this area seemed to be French, but their outcry was a universal expression of panic. Two English shouts did confirm his suspicions, however.
"Death Eaters!" They wailed.
With cold determination, Harry sprinted ahead until he spotted clusters of Death Eaters spread out along destroyed camps and trees. A single Death Eater was lighting tents on fire, two were tossing a wizard in the air like a doll between them, playing a game of catch and laughing all the while. The third group was the largest. Four Death Eaters surrounded a hunched over figure on the floor. A quick glance was all Harry needed to know they were ripping a girl's robes off a bit at a time, as she covered a child with her body, protecting the child from the masked men.
The group of four was the furthest away but to Harry, they were the only ones that mattered. In that first step forward, Harry finally gave in, and let the tsunami of energy flow angrily to the surface. Hermione's dead and battered face. Ron's broken skull. Neville's missing eyes. Luna's skinned features. All their deaths and suffering at the hands of these jackals. It was all fuel to the inferno raging within, and Harry's anger reached its peak.
Harry raised his wand, didn't even say 'expulso,' but the curse blasting out of his wand was so strong, the Death Eater dropping the poor wizard burst in an immense explosion of shredded meat, tattered garb, and warm blood. The meaty boom stopped everyone. Thankfully, so too did the Death Eater using Crucio on the partly naked girl. Even Harry stopped, and oddly enough, took that moment to marvel at the strength of his new wand.
It seemed to be perfect for hexes and curses because the most that should have happened, the most Harry expected, was the Death Eater to be blown back several feet and land unconscious with broken bones. The entrails swung off a branch before dropping to the ground with a splat; however, told him no, it was clearly more than his wand. Whereas Harry's magic previously felt more like a minor hazard, now his magic felt like a natural disaster by comparison.
Being caught unaware only lasted long enough for everyone to realize powerful magic was used to blow a wizard to bloody bits and the first to snap out of it were the Death Eaters. There may have been plenty of trees but no one had taken cover behind one, thus the Death Eaters easily spotted Harry and impatiently, angrily, sent a barrage of curses in his direction.
Harry dodged the devilish curses with shields and critically timed evasion. He felt one clip his left shoulder and suddenly, his body was highly instinctive, like being back in his mindscape, fighting off multiple Voldemorts. Rolling into a crouched position, he calmly noted his left arm was sluggish before he threw up multiple shields. With minimal cover and multiple assailants, strategy guided him in blowing a large hole in the ground, casting a large amount of smoke to minimize visibility.
"Nova," Harry called and his familiar dived down and fast enough to cause a whistle to emit in its trail. She barely gripped Harry's shoulder before they flamed away, materializing high above the fight. "That's good there," he said, aiming to land near the tortured girls and Nova let him fall.
Unbeknownst to the ruthless attackers below, he had more than enough time to rain down an unholy gambit of cutting curses, blasting curses, and conjured fire arrows on them. Harry managed to cut the wand arm of a Death Eater when the rest noticed the aerial assault. He heard a pain-filled cry as they moved away from the girls and the satisfaction it brought to him was joyous. They moved and dodged or shielded themselves as best they could from the unexpected aerial onslaught of deadly curses, but Harry did not let up on his rapid casting. He managed to get another agonizing squeal, like a stuffed pig, before slowing his fast descent to land hard, yet closer, to the girls.
Touched by war, Harry marked a shift in the battle as he sprinted low towards the badly wounded girls. He nearly managed two steps when a barrage of spells was cast in his direction. The incursion of so much violence directed at his survival spoke to a primal side of him, as if the world was demanding his silence, and he just didn't have it in him to give it.
'Fuck you!' he mentally yelled but physically growled.
Injured as he was, his heart was pumping mercilessly against his ribs, his magic raged and he didn't notice that his eyes had started to glow neon green. Having cast strong protegos around him, zig-zagging from left to right, one curse managed to tag him in the back, sending him to the floor. Using the momentum of the impact to roll to his knees beside the girls, he gritted his teeth and grunted out some spit as he ignored the searing pain and subsequent warm wet feeling. He transfigured up a wall of hardened earth to surround him and the girls.
The wall was immediately bombarded with spells from multiple sides by an unknown number of attackers, but at the very least it gave him an idea of which direction they were firing from. He knew for sure he had taken out two on his rapid descent from the sky, leaving four remaining, but he hadn't clocked this new attacker.
'A late arrival,' his mind answered him before he resumed his offensive strategy. It would be idiotic to simply stand up and shield himself, then fire on separated enemies, not that he couldn't, but he had already been clipped twice and there was a high chance it could happen again, possibly with a curse far worse. Harry just needed a moment's pause to return fire when he recalled Malfoy's trick from earlier.
"P-pupupu- puleeezze," the older girl covering the younger girl struggled to say, her eyes pleading with his glowing ones. Her body twitched randomly in the aftermath of being Crucio'd and the back of her robes were in tatters. Deep bruising and bleeding welts littered up her back, but Harry noted her French accent before recognizing her very familiar face.
"Fleur?" Harry had let slip.
The poor girl had spasmed horribly over the prone form of her sister, Gabrielle, who she was protecting with her own body. Before the injured witch could respond, the wall was completely demolished by a powerful bombarta and Harry had to erect a strong protego around them for the rain of subsequent spells aimed at them. The dazed, pained look in her eyes had made Harry forget all about capturing one alive—no easy thing considering his mind's near robotic detachment to irrational and emotional decisions. It wasn't to say Harry couldn't be swayed by his emotions—clearly he could—but his mind never stopped thinking. He knew when he needed to allow whatever he was feeling to be, and when not to. At the moment, his emotions were demanding blood, and his mind wasn't protesting.
"They probably didn't know anything, anyway," the darker side of his mind reasoned, in support of his homicidal thoughts. When he didn't hear a counter-argument in favor of sparing them, which might have sounded a lot like Dumbledore, Harry's green eyes glowed brighter upon his resolve. The air around him sizzled and sparked from aggregating his magic.
Raising his hands for a moment, he quickly pointed his wand down to the ground, and with the exception of their footing, Harry transfigured fifty meters of ground in every direction into deep, watery mud. This took more magic than he had ever felt capable of in his previous timeline, but at the moment, he barely felt a drain. He heard the creaking and banging of leaning or colliding trees and the second after the curses stopped flying, he used the same amount of power to harden the ground, keeping the Death Eaters in place for as long as he needed to satisfy his craving for bloody justice.
Despite the protest tugging from his back muscles, Harry rounded out of the shields but kept it over the girls. Noticing that his stuck attackers were struggling to escape the hardened earth trapping them, he targeted the nearest Death Eater with a bone-breaking curse, packing it with enough power to turn the wizard's entire skeletal system to dust.
The mangled, crushing noise before the Death Eater's ear-piercing scream was certainly satisfying, but not enough to appease Harry's craving. He turned to the second Death Eater and bombarded him with a series of reductos for a more satisfying result. With the magical terrorist's legs cemented into the earth to the thigh, he screamed with each impact as his body flung and bounced around like a rag doll, unable to properly rocket away, breaking at bends the human body was not designed for. Yes, his pain-filled cries were much more satisfying to hear, but again, it wasn't enough.
Harry's friends had suffered far worse and he demanded equal compensation.
As he moved to his next prey, the other two were luckily assisted by a third—another late arrival—and initiated their attack, albeit more sluggishly. This time it was clear their aim was to kill as they hurled Avada Kedavras at him.
Harry dodged the first three, moving closer to the girls knowing the protego he had around them would not protect them from the killing curse. Harry returned rapid-fire with his standard array of cutting, blasting, expulso and reducto curses in the span of seconds as he moved closer to the girls. It didn't matter quite so much if he connected, but he preferred they defend and stop shooting killing curses so he could erect another wall of earth around the vulnerable girls.
Once beside the Delacours—confident he could stop anything aimed at them—Harry rainbow cast powerful confringos over his newly formed wall and hoped it hit one or at least sent massive chunks of debris at them. When he saw two more Death Eaters show up and attack the wall from another direction, Harry considered flaming Fleur and her sister away. Defending them from five Death Eaters while wounded himself was a little more risk to their safety than he was comfortable with.
Expecting a barrage of dark curses and hexes, Harry acted with both defense and offense in mind. He rapid-fired three destructive spells in between many smaller, more precise shields layered around the three. After a moment, he realized the spell work was only coming from one direction. The shattering flare of blue shield succumbing to green death hex only to be absorbed by solid earth lessened to possibly one man when Harry realized that they were about to portkey away.
Harry groaned as he felt more resistance from his mangled back when he recklessly rounded his half-destroyed earth-wall in an attempt to grab one. A killing curse just barely whizzed by his head, forcing him to take cover, but not well enough as a piece of debris rocketed into his thigh. The heat of the foreign object was enough to make him groan from the shooting pain.
Still, he tried again despite it being in vain. It was all the time the death squad needed to take their brothers still in one or two pieces with them and disappear. The torn and smoking clearing ahead where a group of Death Eaters used to stand, and the sudden silence amidst the battlefield was like a splash of unforgiving cold water to Harry's system, highlighting the complete and utter failure of his mission and the wounds gained in the process.
"Fleur!" A young girl's small voice wailed, bringing Harry back to the present. Annoyed, sweating, bleeding, but not exhausted, he took a step towards the girls when pure pain flourished through his body. The agony sent the very clear message that he had a broken piece of branch sticking out of his thigh, a shredded back and a broken left shoulder. When he began to feel his back heat up like a fevered wound, he irritably begrudged all the future time he knew he'd spend in recovery with an overly fretful Perenelle. For now, Harry ignored the surmounting pain and limped to the crying girl and her tortured older sister. Gabrielle was hysterical and crying, and Fleur held her tightly despite losing consciousness.
Harry did not get close to the girls when he heard a loud "Stupify" some thirty feet away. Mentally still more fight than flight, Harry had enough instinct and function in his mobility to side-step out of the stunning spell's trajectory, making him take a step away from the girls. Turning to the new wave of attackers, Harry easily spotted that all were Ministry Aurors. Leading the pack, he recognized Sirius in the exact moment his living, breathing Godfather angrily ordered him to "Freeze!"
"Drop your wand," Sirius commanded with all the hostility he would show an enemy. This unit began to surround the area, and Harry was so shocked to see his Godfather alive and healthy, he barely noticed Kingsley Shacklebolt aiming his wand directly at his chest. His body was not completely shut down, and he automatically dodged another light stunner cast at him, this one from Shacklebolt, coaxing him to react.
Without a word, he conjured a whirlwind of fire to spin around him. It might have looked like fiendfyre from the outside, but Harry only needed it to obscure him from the 'protectors' of justice.
"Nova," he lightly called, seconds before his legendary familiar dove down the eye of the fire tornado to grip her master and flame him to the Flamel's London home. The flash of his phoenix-based travel evaporated along with the twirling tower of flame, masking his escape perfectly.
"Where'd he go?" one of the Aurors yelled, astonished by the wizard's disappearance. "Is the anti-apparition still up?" someone else called.
"Did he have a portkey?" Shacklebolt asked Sirius.
"Search the area," Sirius commanded before rushing to the Delacours. "And get a mediwitch!"
In a beautiful Victorian white-stone townhouse in Islington, London, Harry flamed into the foyer of the first floor and landed hard on his injured back. Despite the tremendous pain, he did not cry out. He only took deep audible breaths and glumly muttered, "Fucking hell."
I was really looking forward to this chapter. Draco is the first of the main characters I got to incorporate in this story. And the action scene was tough but gratifying to work on and finish. Honestly the action was very hard to write for me. I'm more partial to dialogue.
Thanks for reading and please let me know your thoughts.