CHAPTER 82: Checkmate (Part 2)

Slytherin Fifth-Year Boy's Dormitories

April 8th, 1996

9:15 p.m.

Harry had remained the talk of the castle ever since the Prophet's article a few days back. After the attack at the Three Broomsticks, everyone knew just how dangerous Harry actually was. Even those like Theo who defended his actions and didn't vilify him for it all feared him. But the Prophet had blown away any sense of imagination and revealed it all, leaving those who used to be on the fence about their feelings towards Harry to side with those who grew to hate him.

And it was hard for Theo to blame them. If the pictures that had kept coming out over the next few days weren't enough, the vivid descriptions of the attacks at the pub painted a clear picture as to what Harry was truly capable of. Coupled with the perfectly written articles aimed at inspiring as much dread and distrust towards Harry as possible, they were powerful enough that they had Theo questioning himself for a few moments here and there. He had to give it to Montague or whoever was behind this campaign against Harry, Theo couldn't think of a better way to hurt him than with this.

But nowhere was Harry's name uttered more than deep within the Slytherin common room. It was never spoken out loud, at least not while he or Pansy was nearby, but he could sense it. He could hear it in the silence of the common room as everyone whispered among each other and looked anywhere but at them. The change in how the Slytherins were treating him had been just too abrupt for him not to notice. And given how they never, ever dared to look at him - even after he tried prodding them into doing so - Harry's reputation had brought most of his year group a twisted form of protection.

"They're scared Harry will find out they did anything to us," Pansy told him one day at the Great Hall. "They probably think he'll murder them as well."

"That's absurd," Blaise said. "After that article, Potter will be hunted by every do-gooder and eager wannabe Death Eater in the country. Do they think he'll just pop by to take his OWLs?"

"Well, it's not like he came by the other week just to steal Longbottom's cloak," Draco said, mid-bite into his dinner. "I knew he was jealous of Longbottom, but that was just petty."

"Like you have never been petty before, Malfoy." Daphne rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't risk my life and freedom just for some stupid cloak. Not even I am that dumb!"

This article had just turned up everything on its head and shat on it for good measure. If Harry's visit a couple of weeks back hadn't done anything to fix his mood, this article had just piled up on that. It was the impotence really. He may not be a master dueller like Harry or as clever and connected as Pansy was, but he could usually bring something to the table. Even if that was something as small as trying to keep Harry in check, it meant he wasn't totally useless. Not like he was now. Trapped inside the castle as he was forced to stand still while Harry was on the run.

The news had affected Pansy and Draco as well - though to a much smaller extent - while Daphne and Blaise just seemed more morbidly curious about the entire thing. After all, the news came as no surprise to any of them. Watching someone murder someone in front of you and then having to help them cover up that same murder does wonders in desensitizing you to whatever else they may do. At that point, there were only a few things they could do that would really surprise you. But their reactions still left Theo with a knot in his chest. An uneasy feeling that just kept twisting the more he thought about it.

Pansy cared about Harry… in her own Parkinson-esque way. And while he had half-expected Draco to immediately celebrate at the news of Harry's newly booked lodgings in the darkest dungeon of the DMLE, Draco had surprised him by seemingly giving half a shit about Harry's situation. Theo wasn't stupid enough to think this wasn't born out of Draco's own self-interest, but he couldn't really put his finger on what it was Draco would lose if Harry was actually arrested by the DMLE. But the other two didn't show the smallest inkling of empathy for Harry. And though it was something he'd been expecting from both of them - and in Daphne's case wasn't something he particularly cared about - Blaise's reaction was the thing that was bugging him the most.

Blaise was far from a saint. Though he easily portrayed himself as very jovial and carefree, Theo had known him for long enough to see just how much cynicism he hid behind the performance. How easy it was for him to suddenly detach himself emotionally from someone or something. The two of them had been close ever since their first year at Hogwarts, and as he'd changed so had Blaise. For the longest time, even through all their differences here and there, they had managed to see eye to eye on everything in the end. Everything until now. Until Harry.

It was the topic they had danced around ever since Halloween. They'd still hung out throughout these past months, Blaise had even come by the manor a couple of times in the winter break, but it was that unspoken topic that had created a distance between them. One that had slowly but surely kept growing and growing. Theo had tried to bring himself to talk to him about Harry for a while now. But every time he'd had the opportunity, he had chickened out. In some ways, it had just been easier to let that distance grow slowly and force himself to get used to it rather than risk talking about it and bringing down a wall he would not be able to tear apart after all was said and done.

The article must have been that final straw. He'd retreated back to the dormitory early that night. And though he would never admit it to Pansy, ever since Harry's visit a couple of weeks back he'd fallen into the habit of having one of Harry's brooding episodes at least once every couple of days. It must have been a disease, something Harry had passed onto him when he'd kicked Pansy and Theo out of the Room of Requirement. And as he sat with his back to the header of his bed and blindly stared at the small brown stain of his curtain, Blaise entered in.

He didn't say anything at first, didn't really look at him either. Blaise just entered the room and changed into his nightwear as if Theo wasn't even there. And at first, Theo didn't think he'd say anything either. But right as Blaise reached the door and was about to open it to leave, the git just had to open his mouth. "Still sulking about your boyfriend?" He asked, his tone just shy of mocking.

"What's it to you?" Theo asked coldly without taking his eyes off the curtain.

He could feel Blaise's eyes on him even as the quiet settled in, but Theo didn't give him the satisfaction. And he couldn't help but feel a petty feeling of victory when Blaise scoffed. "Whatever," he rolled his eyes and opened the door.

"You wanna have this out now?" Theo called out to him before he could leave.

"Have what out?"

"You know bloody well what," Theo said, finally turning towards him. And when Blaise shut the door - rather forcefully - Theo continued. "Ever since that article you've been itching to say it. So just do it already."

"How can you still stand by him? I would have almost understood with Montague if Potter hadn't seemed like he was having a fucking orgasm as he ripped apart his face. And the attack at the Three Broomsticks… self-defence. Fine. Whatever. I can understand. I respect that. But this? You've read the articles, you've seen what he's done. How can you stand beside him after that."

"He's my friend."

"No, I'm your friend," Blaise snapped. "Remember? Before you even went palling about with Potter I was your friend. From the start. Until you decided to take his side."

"I didn't take his side-"

"Yes, you did."

"I can have more than one friend, Blaise."

"I'm not saying you can't, I'm saying why did it have to be him?" He cried out. "Out of all the bloody bastards in this castle, why did you decide to make friends with the serial killer?"

"He's not a serial killer."

Blaise gave a demented laugh, one that nearly reminded him of Dolohov's. "Potter must be one really good fuck because you're not this blind. Not this stupid. Not usually."

"It's more complicated than that," Theo tried explaining. "You don't understand. If you knew what I knew-"

"There's nothing to understand here, Theo. Hell, there may be several shades of gray I'm not seeing. I'm not saying those people were innocent little children that Potter just butchered. But criminal or not, it doesn't make Potter any less of a serial killer. Saying otherwise just shows how delusional your friendship with him has made you."

"I'm not delusional."

"Maybe not. But your friendship with Potter has been far from helpful. Just look at you, look at who you've been turning into over these past few months. You're regressing Theo. All that time you're spending with Potter is just making you more like him." Blaise paused, almost hesitating. "You're turning back into the old you. And after what you've told me, I don't see how you can be okay with that."

"I know you're scared of Harry," Theo said slowly. "And I get it. I understand. But that doesn't mean he's-"

"Scared?" Blaise's voice cracked as he interrupted him yet again. "Try terrified. You may have got really close to Potter, but I didn't. I don't have your… protection, I don't have anything that keeps Potter from thinking twice before killing me. The night I returned home for the break was the first time since Halloween that I could actually sleep with both eyes shut. "

"Harry's not the senseless murderer you think he is. Those petty arguments you two have are nothing. He's not going to kill you over that. Or anything so long as you don't try to kill him either."

"And what about Tracey, huh?" Blaise asked. "She didn't try to kill him. The bloody girl just made one small mistake, and she paid for it with her life."

"She helped Montague drug Harry! After everything that happened, someone needed to take the fall. We all decided on her. It wasn't just Harry."

"We were all scared shitless. And after what Potter did to Montague, what else were we supposed to say after he offered her up to the pyre? Potter originally wanted it to be Draco just because he thought he was annoying. Draco… Daphne… me… we all knew that the moment we spoke up against his plan our name would fly right to the top of his shit list. Can you really tell me you feel no guilt over what we did?"

"Every night," Theo said quietly. "I don't like this. Hell, I hate it more than you ever could. But being Harry's friend… seeing all the shit he has and," Theo stopped, feeling the effects of Bedivere's memory lock on him. "The world is shit, and we - all of us - are far from saints. We can't afford to be if we want to keep living in it. But I'm trying. I'm still trying to do good, and I know Harry is too. I can see it… I can help him see it too. I have to. All the shit we do… the shit we'll have to do… there's a reason for it. And just because we don't like it doesn't make it less of our duty."

Blaise stared at him as if he were a stranger. No, it was worse. Because even when they met, Blaise hadn't looked at him with such discontent. "Is that really you speaking? Or is it that just what Potter's made you repeat?"

Montague Manor

April 11th, 1996

5:30 p.m.

Barty could still remember his youth. Sometimes, it felt like a distant dream, the adventures of a whole other person who happened to reside in his body for a while. But most of the time it felt like a recent memory. It was only after he gave more thought to it and actually did the maths that he realised those memories weren't weeks or months old. That whole decade had passed, flashed by in the blink of an eye, and he wasn't the same seventeen-year-old boy he was when he left his home for the last time.

That anger he constantly felt back then was something that he'd had trouble actually grasping now. It had been so long since he'd felt so angry that he'd forgotten what it was like. And for the longest time, Barty had been sure that it was something that would remain in the past. After all, it had been over two decades now since the last time he'd felt that way. That ever-burning hatred was something common in kids, it wasn't something a grown man would typically feel.

But the moment he had picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet on that fateful morning and read the taunting headline, he had realised that his teenage pouting would never compare to what he felt at that moment. Barty hadn't had to prod to find out who was behind this attack. This had Montague's mark all over it mixed in with Dolohov's sick sense of humour. He'd warned them - ordered them to stay away from the boy. But they refused to listen. This would be the last time they had the chance to even consider disobeying him.

He didn't go after them, not at first. They were meaningless. Worthless. Hamsters running and running without realising they hadn't moved an inch. Their time would come, but they weren't the priority. They didn't matter. His focus for the first few days remained on Potter. He restlessly scoured through all of Magical Britain to find him. Stepped foot in every minuscule town and checked inside every dingy inn for any sign of him, only to be simultaneously irritated and pleased at any lack of clues for the boy's whereabouts.

It wasn't until the third day that he took his search outside the confines of Magical Britain and broadened it to the muggle world. Harry was muggle raised, after all, and it was easier and much safer to hide out there than in any magical community. The boy had done an admirable job at hiding himself, but it had taken Barty a little more than a couple of days to find him. He had taken over a muggle residence in the heart of London, one that Barty had nearly missed due to the wards that were covering it. They weren't too thorough, or emanating enough power for someone like himself to notice, but they were enough to hide him from wizards and muggles alike.

Nevertheless, the wards were too advanced for someone like Harry to have placed them himself, especially with his current diminished ability. There was someone helping him out, another party he had yet to identify. The identity of Harry's mystery abettor stayed in his thoughts like an itch deep inside his brain. It led him to ponder and theorize, though he was not sure whether Dumbledore, Fudge or some other Death Eater who'd somehow taken a fancy to the boy sounded more likely. Last time he'd checked, Harry hadn't exactly improved his social skills. All those options sounded as likely to him as Merlin reincarnate being the one lending a hand.

His first instinct had been to approach the boy. Barty had set up various safehouses for himself around the country - some having even been warded by the Dark Lord himself. But he knew the moment he approached Harry and offered him an out he would simply get shut down. Seeing Harry's reaction after learning who he really was hurt, even if a part of him had been expecting it, but in the end, Barty had accepted it. He came to terms with the fact that the boy hated him… but still couldn't bring himself to actually kill him. While not progress, it was a sign of hope. That perhaps, in time, he'd come around. But whether that happened or not didn't matter right now. His only concern was that Harry remained safe.

He placed a few more wards around the property. Mostly alerts wards to immediately notify him if any witch, wizard, or other magical creature came anywhere near these wards. And though he was tempted to place other less benign wards around the property, he abstained from doing so. And over the course of the next few days, he occasionally came around the place. He watched as Harry loitered - not doing much other than eating, sleeping and just seeming rather vexed about his house arrest. Barty didn't stay long, often simply making sure the boy was safe before returning to one of his safehouses and preparing for whatever the Dark Lord would command of him next or using his portkey to Azkaban and make sure his imprisoned brother and sisters from the Dark Lord's inner circle were given Circe and Clotho's treatment.

And since Harry seemed mostly safe, Barty held off on raining hell on Montague's front porch. A temporary apprehension to wait and observe how the waters settled. He would have held off longer if it hadn't been for the incident earlier in the day.

It happened while he was back in Azkaban dealing with the after-effects of the treatment on the ex-inmates. It affected everyone differently as the process was far from painless. With some - like Artemis - it affected the mind, leading to her shouting and rambling like a mad woman. Though given it was Artemis this might just be the potion reverting her back to her normal state. With Phobetor, the potion had the opposite effect. It stopped his incoherent mumblings and occasional senseless screams and left him quiet. He usually huddled up in the corner of his cell and looked up at you with an unsettling stare.

But it was the effect the treatment was having on Hecate that was most concerning to him. Unlike the others, there was very much a physical reaction every time they gave him the potion. Almost immediately after its consumption, Hecate's veins would glow a vivid arctic blue, lighting up the entire cell, before he'd scream and write in agony for the next couple of hours. There didn't seem to be any permanent damage to his body or his magic, but the effect was still concerning nonetheless. He'd voiced this to both Circe and Clotho, but both had dismissed him by claiming the potion was affecting Hecate differently because of his connection to the Ancestral and Wild magic.

It wasn't a satisfactory explanation, but knowing the Dark Lord's mission he knew summoning him without grave cause wasn't wise.

The treatment had been given to everyone when he sensed the alert from the wards at Harry's house. And Barty hadn't hesitated, he didn't think twice before he ordered Oizys to take care of the affected Death Eaters and took off. But when he arrived at the outskirts of the property he didn't see Montague or Dolohov like he had thought he would. The man was short and pudgy, and his robes were formal enough, but Barty had been around enough truly rich people he was able to tell they were cheap imitations. He was old, most of his hair was gone and what remained had turned white long ago. He was far from a real threat to Harry, but the man had managed to find him. And by the dark look on his face and the wand already in his hand, it was clear the man wasn't here to talk.

"Walk away," Barty told him calmly, startling the man with his presence.

The man looked him over, trying to seem more threatening than he actually was. Barty doubted he'd ever actually been in a fight. "You know who that boy is?"

"I know exactly who he is."

"If that were the case you wouldn't have ordered me to back off," the man said bitterly. "You wouldn't be protecting this… this vile beast. You'd be joining me in making sure he's dead."

"You can't kill him. And even if you could… I'm afraid I wouldn't let you."

"He killed my boy!" His voice trembled with rage and the old man's very own words caused him to break down in front of Barty. Shatter. He nearly buckled over from the sheer pain. And Barty felt for him. Pitied him. He had no idea what would become of him if someone took his boy the same way Harry had done to the old man. "Tommy made mistakes. I'm not blind. I know what he was. I know the people he got involved with were not good. And I… I know that what he was doing wasn't good. But he was my son! Just a boy. Just out of school. He didn't deserve to be butchered and left to die at some mangy pub in the middle of nowhere."

"I still can't let you do this," Barty said, his voice colder than he'd meant it. "Please… walk away. Mourn your son. Leave this place before it's too late and never come back."

When the old man looked up at him, Barty saw the tears running down his face. And out of respect for him, he chose to ignore them. "If you want to stop me… you're going to have to kill me."

Barty let out a long sigh and gave the man a sad smile. "No, I won't. Imperio!"

He hated the Unforgivable curses. Did everything he could to avoid using them knowing the damage they wrought on his soul. Dark magic in general was something he had a distaste for, something very few of his brothers and sisters understood. But that man was no threat. He did not deserve to die or be imprisoned for losing his son. He would return home and be allowed to grieve in whatever way he pleased. And though he wouldn't forget about Harry or his part in his son's death, he would never hunt him down. Would never be able to even consider hurting him. But he would keep living, and eventually, with luck, he'd find his peace.

It was the least he could do.

He hadn't wasted much time after sending the man on his way back home. He gave his wards a small maintenance and made sure Harry remained inside and perfectly fine before he apparated to Montague Manor. Elijah had holed himself up there with Dolohov right after the Aurors left a few days back. It was another location he had scoped out beforehand and placed his own reconnaissance wards. And though a part of him hoped to keep the peace between them, if only for the fact they were both strong members of the Dark Lord's inner circle, he would be lying if he hadn't been itching to blow off the doors of Montague Manor and stroll inside like he just had.

"I told you," Barty said as he entered the study. Elijah was sitting in the old leather study chair behind the desk, desperately trying to emulate the power and respect his parents had previously held. Dolohov, on the other hand, showed no interest in maintaining decorum, laying atop the armchair in the library corner with his feet hanging from the top rail and his head hovering just above the floor, humming and using a red crayon to draw over an old - most likely priceless - book. "Harry Potter is off limits. The Dark Lord himself said so."

"One should be polite when addressing the master of the house," Elijah said coolly. "It's unbecoming of you, Ares."

"The boy-"

"Is mine to do whatever I please to," he interrupted smoothly. "While the Dark Lord repaid your efforts to our cause by entertaining your… fascination with the boy, he is a smart man. He can see that Potter is bad for us on the bigger picture."

"I'll bring him into the fold-"

"It's not about that."

"The Dark Lord wasn't too pleased when Snobby over here told him of his little torture sessions across the island," Dolohov commented offhandedly. "Says he needs the waters still at the moment - whatever that means. Doesn't want too many people prodding where they shouldn't be."

"So you just out the boy for it?"

"The Dark Lord signed off on this plan, Ares." Elijah brushed him off. "If you have any complaints, you can take it up with him."

And there they were, the three little words that were capable of putting a full stop to his plans. It would be unwise to upset the Dark Lord, but it would be downright suicide to go against a direct order of him. The veracity of Montague's claims was something he would have to confirm, but the lad wasn't stupid enough to pull off as big of a move without the Dark Lord's consent. Which only served to complicate things even further.

"You act like this was an inevitability, a burden you were handed when everyone knows you've been after Potter since the start. You're a fool if you think the Dark Lord doesn't see through you."

"It's you who's the fool if you think the Dark Lord cares about any of this. He knows I've wanted Potter in the ground for months and now, I've just shown him the reason why he should want it too. The Dark Lord doesn't care about you, Ares. You may be his most faithful but never does that title infer that you're his favourite. We're only as revered as we are useful, and you have spent these past three months doing nothing but chasing after Potter rather than focusing on our Lord. So why do you think you're still at the top of his priority list?"

"And you are?"

"I'm merely looking out for the Dark Lord's best interests. It would be most unfortunate if his plan was disrupted because some stupid boy went on a tantrum all over Britain, now, wouldn't it?"

"And you get what you want in the process."

"Isn't that the nature of our partnership with our Lord?" Elijah asked mockingly. "Getting what we want?"

"And you're on board with this?" Barty turned towards Dolohov. "For all your talk, you're turning out to be nothing more than Montague's lackey. Worse. The two of you can't even bring yourselves to take on Potter on your own."

"Oh, I'm not trying to kill Harry," Dolohov scoffed, tossing the book and crayon to the side before managing a weird jump from the armchair that left him upright. "Where would that get me? The agony of watching this chuffer gloat for the next week or so? Now why would I want that?"

"Watch your tone," Montague warned.

"Then why are you helping him?" Barty asked. "He wants Harry dead. He's pitted the whole of Britain against him!"

"Pffft," Dolohov waved him off. "A bunch of drunks, rejected Death Eater aspirants, and lowlives. If anything, you should be thanking me for handing that boy of yours a bit of target practice."

"The plan…" Montague said carefully. "Is to kill Potter."

"That's your plan, sweetheart. Mine is much… less… boring." Before either Barty or Montague could react, Dolohov reached for the back of his pants and threw a small knife aimed at Montague's chest. The young man reacted quickly, turning in his chair to attempt to evade the knife, only for it to get lodged into Montague's shoulder. He gave a cry of pain before turning towards Dolohov with a murderous glare. "Stay still for a moment, will you?" Dolohov grinned, pulling out another knife. But before he could launch it Montague disapparated, leaving nothing but a loud popping sound in his wake.

"What did you do?" Barty asked.

Dolohov tilted his head and looked at him as if he'd suddenly become a five-year-old again. "I… grabbed my knife… threw it at Moneybags… and missed."

"You didn't miss."

"Eh, the shoulder doesn't really count. There are no vital organs there."

"You weren't trying to hit any vital organs. You aimed for the right side of his chest. You need him alive."

Dolohov grinned. "Don't let anyone tell you you're just a pretty face."

"Why?"

"Well, because it's not that pretty to begin with."

"Dolohov," Barty threatened, the lights of the room dimming as he did so.

"Because it's not my place to kill Montague." He said with a giggle. "Come on, Chuckles, you spent like two full months with me. You should know me better by now. Montague's plan… while self-absorbed and slightly convoluted, was just the push our little Harry needed."

"What push?"

"Because of Montague, Potter's on the run. He's being chased by every crook, Auror, Ministry official, House-Elf, cricket, and dragon in the country. And that's it, even if he were to beat them all. To kill them all. There's no life for him after this. No coming back from that. Montague showed the entire world just who Harry Potter really was. And you know what the best really is… all of it is true. The pictures, the stories, the bodies. Everything that Potter's getting hanged for will be because of his own doing. Because that's who he is."

"What's your point in all of this?" Barty barked.

"My point, Crouchy, is that Potter can't run anymore. He can't hide from who he truly is - from who he's meant to be. And really, what does he have left anyway? He's lost his girlfriend. His freedom. His friends will desert him and the Wizarding World will turn on him. It's already started. And once it's done, once Potter realises that he has no life anymore, he won't stop at killing Montague anymore. You saw what he did while he still had something to live for. But now Montague burnt that all to the ground, and left him primed for us to be there when he's reborn. You'll get the son you've always wanted him to be… and the world will get to feel the wrath of the boy they all gave up on."

"And what do you get?" Barty asked him. "What is your endgame in all of this?"

Dolohov gave him a broad grin. "I… I get to have fun."

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

Next chapter Harry gets summoned to Parkinson Palace. Be excited!

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