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Acknowledgements: Thank you to my editor Athena Hope, as well as my betas 3CP, Luq707, Regress, and Thanos for their work on this story.
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Harry Potter and the Conjoining of Paragons
By ACI100
Chapter 50: The Sword of Damocles
December 13, 1943
The Slytherin Dormitories
6:34 AM
Everything was dark. Harry could not have said what time it was. Blackness swaddled him so tightly that no sound broke through. That's not good. His wand tip lit but provided no relief. Fuck it, then.
He stepped from the darkness and found himself atop the Astronomy Tower. Thin clouds shattered overhead and the silver moon beamed its light down upon a bushy-haired girl lying beside a skeletally thin man in grey, threadbare robes.
They could not have looked more different except for the eyes — empty eyes that stared skyward but understood nothing of what they saw.
No! Harry had long since thought this night conquered, but the pain returned, fierce as it had been when desperation sent him tumbling back through time.
He spun the time turner and found himself standing in a pale-tiled bathroom. There was a moist, mouldy sort of smell while a thin layer of water crept across the floor, pooling around a vacant-eyed blond who lay dead upon the floor. Why is it always this?
A porcelain sink slid aside and he plunged down a long tube only to find himself deposited in a pockmarked square strewn with ruined stones. Wine-red flames swirled around the faint outline of an auburn-haired man whose body crumbled to ash.
My fault. They're all my fault. I killed them all.
Henri Potter's gravestone stared up at him with accusing, unseen eyes, but others flanked it. Dorea, Elena, Charlus, and… his breath hitched.
Emily Riddle
1926-1943
An awful scream left his lips. He clawed at his face and eyes as if that would help him unsee everything, but all it did was make his cheeks burn.
Harry sat up with a gasp and pressed his palm flat against his cheek. It came back smeared with a long line of blood. I actually tried clawing my eyes out over a dream. It took him a moment to remember why, then Emily's words in the library came back to him.
"I'll be taking care of it tonight. You don't have to worry."
He climbed from bed on shaking legs and couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Don't worry, she says. If only she knew. There was scarcely a time these days during which he didn't worry. Die, or let my girlfriend murder students. What a fucking life.
His feet carried him from the common room and up the marble staircase, sheltered against detection by a perfect Disillusionment Charm.
He paused in the doorway of a bathroom that had once been Moaning Myrtle's. Or not. I guess it never has been here.
It was hard to breathe while he stared around the room. It wasn't quite what his dream had shown. It had a sharp, clean sort of smell and there was no sign of mould or leaking water. My brain must have combined the two ways I've seen this place. There was no body this time, either, but unseeing that was impossible. All this is gonna drive me mad.
His thoughts drifted as he walked down the long corridor leading to the chamber, spiralling through all sorts of complex tumbles before the stone doors parted and he found himself alone in the Chamber of Secrets.
It was almost strange after spending so much time down here with Emily. It had always been drafty, but there was a frigid feel now that made him pull his arms tight against his sides.
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four."
"You look troubled," were the first words from Cerastes once he had slithered down from the statue's maw.
How often has he said that? Worse still was how true it had been each and every time. "I can't get it out of my head."
Harry kept his eyes averted, but he could feel the serpent's stare. "I'm unsure what you mean."
"The killing, the death, how all of it's my fault." Now he shut his eyes — not against Cerastes, but against the faces that mocked him with dying screams and vacant eyes. "All of it is my fault."
"Explain."
He wrung his hands. Where the fuck do I start? "My parents were killed because of me, my best friend and godfather died because of me, my schemes were part of the reason why Abraxas died, Dumbledore's dead because I'm here — in my time he lived another fifty years — Charlus's dad, too."
His face was screwed up as anger and grief boiled alongside each other in his cheeks. "Now Emily has to go around murdering children just because I'm here." Dark thoughts slithered more restlessly than the king of serpents. "Sometimes I just wonder if I should let Grindelwald have me."
"Don't be foolish."
"Is it being foolish?" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat; oh, how his throat burned. "Everyone just keeps dying. I can't stop it. All I do is make it worse."
There was a long silence. "Would you rather the heiress die instead?"
"No!" Harry shut his eyes again but could see only her desperation while she talked of bombs, fear, and death.
"Then you must fight on."
"She'd figure it out. I'm not helping her with the stone — she's miles better than me in things like that."
This silence was even longer. "My first master lived a long time, but many years were worthless. He was never the same when his loved ones left him. Would you leave the heiress broken like that?"
It was like all the serpent's weight had slammed against his stomach. He took a great, gulping breath. "She would adjust; she's too strong not to."
"She would not." Heavy scales scraped against weathered stones asCerastes slithered closer. "I will not betray her confidence, but there are things you don't know."
Why are there so many secrets? "What do you mean?"
"Proof exists how much you mean to the heiress. She told me of… a ritual this past summer. I will say no more than that its failure resulted from how deeply she cared about you. She could not give that up; not for the thing she thought she wanted most."
The thing she thought she wanted most? That sounded like an escape from death, but no ritual could grant her that. And if it could, she wouldn't be spending days locked up trying to reverse-engineer the Resurrection Stone.
The anger seeped out of him. "I just… I hate it. I hate all of it."
The snake's tail flashed out and brushed lightly against his side. "I know," hissed Cerastes. "It is exactly why winning is so important."
Harry found himself nodding despite all his twisting thoughts. Emily's not the only one who has some sacrifices they just can't make.
Two hours later…
The ceiling was a mottled mass of churning grey clouds when Harry trudged into the Great Hall that morning. The muttering was more muted than usual. End-of-term exams would be upon them that next day, and between them and the war, the student population seemed sapped of half its energy.
Emily and her posse were already at the Slytherin table, Dorea and Elena sitting among them. It was strange how that no longer looked odd to him. Simpler times those had been — times when his biggest worry was whether his friends would get along.
Something looked off when he took his seat, and it took him a moment to realize what. Cold seeped through his veins and sent a shudder running up his spine. No sign of Lestrange. His eyes flicked towards Emily, who met his stare and gave the smallest nod. Another person dead because of me.
No! he argued back. Lestrange chose for himself; he chose Grindelwald. He fixed Emily's desperate look inside his head. Is saving her from that not worth a wretch like Lestrange?
Harry wanted so badly to lean across the table and place his lips against Emily's. I was never actually worried she would be okay. That was a strange thought — he had never had so much faith in anyone before now.
A new mass of bodies flooded the hall, these ones smaller and riding wings of grey and brown while they soared circles around the Great Hall and searched for their owners. There are more than usual. Dread coiled tight around his heart. That never means good things these days.
Copies of the Daily Prophet landed all around him, but no one looked prepared to give theirs up. None of them look like they'll stop staring at it any time this week. His heart raced. All around him were blank-looking faces and wide, shock-filled eyes.
Emily looked up at him over her own copy. Something's really bad. There was an intentionally blank look about her — the same one she had worn just before duelling him all those months ago in Professor Merrythought's class.
She slid her paper across the table and Harry looked down. His heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped working, and his throat went dry.
LORD SIRIUS BLACK'S MURDER SENDS A CHILLING MESSAGE
No real article accompanied the headline, just a heart-stopping picture and eight chilling words.
Most of the page was taken up by the Tower of London, thrusting up through a dark grey sky streaked with the first flecks of daylight. Bloody hell. Something hung from the tower, strung up by a thick knot of ropes and swaying back and forth in the early morning breeze. Lord Black — Dorea's father.
The tower was disfigured, large words carved roughly into its side. It was too dark in the picture to see them, but they were annotated below.
The sword of Damocles is drawn. One month.
It was like the morning following Dumbledore's death. First there was a silence thick as midnight, then the screaming started and the bedlam followed.
Plates crashed and goblets shattered. Younger years ran sobbing from the hall whilst older students sat motionless. Armando Dippet screamed over the crowd, but no one listened. It was complete and utter chaos.
Harry had eyes only for Dorea, who was striding towards the exit. There were no tears, no screams, no anguished expression. Just a cold rigidity that reminded him of lifeless porcelain. Somehow that makes me more nervous.
He was halfway across the hall before he realized he was following her and out the double doors before it came to him that he had no idea what to say.
Someone grabbed his arm and he spun to face them. "Let her go." Emily's voice was soft and quiet.
Harry freed himself from her grip. "She's my friend! I have to —"
"Look." Emily pointed behind him and he turned in time to see a head of messy black hair rushing after Dorea. "Charlus is already going. I think it's best if you leave her with him."
Something panged in his stomach and sent pain rippling through his body. "Come on." Emily wrapped an arm around him and started down the corridor, pulling him beneath the marble staircase and into a Parseltongue-protected passageway.
A few minutes ago, all I wanted was to be alone with her. Was there anything the world would let him have untainted?
Emily laid a hand against his cheek. "You can't help everyone."
Oh, how he wished he could. "It's not about helping everyone, it's just…" he trailed off, unsure how to put his feelings into words.
"I know, but we can't bring her father back." Her eyes grew cold. "All we can do is avenge him."
Everything changes so fast. Two hours ago he was panicked and sickened by the thought of Emily killing Grindelwald's agents, and now a part of him roared its approval when she mentioned vengeance on the ones who had hurt his friends.
He swallowed a lump in his throat and took three sharp breaths. "So we keep on then. Nothing changes."
She removed her hand from his cheek and interlaced fingers. "It ends tonight. When I dealt with Macnair and Lestrange, I discovered that the group's leader was Aiden Burke."
"There might be others," said Harry, trying to ignore the unwelcome subtexts. "Getting rid of Burke might not mean it's done."
"Burke was the one recruiting, so it stands to reason that he's their connection to Grindelwald. I'll find out tonight when I snare him. If their connection to Grindelwald is cut, they have no reason to pursue you in the same way."
Harry felt himself stiffen. "In the same way?"
"They'll be desperate now." She leaned in close, her breath on his face. "Be careful; if they notice missing members, they might see what's happening and make a last stand."
His fingers flexed; Harry could practically feel the first curse coming.
"I'll be careful," he said, steeling himself and tilting up his head to press his lips to hers. It was the first kiss he had properly initiated and it filled him with a steaming sort of glee. "Just make sure you're careful, too."
She wrapped her arms around him and leant down, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "Always."
That night, in an abandoned classroom…
Harry's heart raced as he neared a familiar classroom. Emily would be 'snaring' Burke soon, whatever that meant. I just hope this isn't some sort of trap.
She could handle herself against Aiden Burke and even some goons — she had held off Grindelwald long enough for Harry and Charlus to recover — but the last thing they needed was some grand struggle that drew attention.
I'm already worried enough. What would happen when the purebloods caught wind of their children dying inside Hogwarts' walls?
"There won't be a closure," Emily had promised when Harry asked that question. "Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain. It's too valuable a stronghold if Grindelwald breaks the ministry. They won't be demanning the castle no matter who demands it.
She better be right. She had to be — Hogwarts was as precious to her as it was to Harry. She wouldn't risk its closure for anything. Hairs prickled on the back of his neck. Except maybe to keep us alive.
Harry was unsurprised to find the classroom occupied. No meeting had been arranged, but it was that kind of day. He and Charlus always seemed to wind up here in times like this.
The Head Boy had his back to him while he stared out the window and out over the Black Lake.
"How's Dorea?" Harry asked.
Charlus slowly turned away from the window and ran a hand through his hair. "About as well as you'd expect. She's not really the crying type, but she's hurting." He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. "I did what I could. I think it might have helped a little, but she wanted time alone." His eyes dropped towards the floor. "I've never been good at this sort of thing."
"Me neither, I just hope she'll be okay."
"She will be." Charlus fidgeted despite his words. "I just wish she didn't have to hurt like this. It's hard to watch."
"I know." The two exchanged sad smiles.
"What a shitshow," Charlus muttered. "The Lord Black killed on British soil by the dark lord who's making threats against our country. I never thought I'd see the day."
"One month." Harry's words rang through the room. "One month until he attacks, you reckon?"
"I don't see what else that could mean, but I guess he could be bluffing. He hopes we'll surrender — he wouldn't have gone through that much effort to send a message if he didn't — but we'll see what happens when we don't."
Harry stared around the room. "We won't surrender, will we?" Fighting Grindelwald would become nearly impossible if he controlled Britain. Even more than it already is.
"No, but I don't know what chance we'll have holding him off. Maybe if we get some Russian reinforcements, but I doubt they'll be keen. They've always stayed away from the rest of Europe."
"They have to know Grindelwald will try attacking them again. If Britain falls, that just means he'll have more soldiers."
"True, but if they send out soldiers, that leaves them more open for an attack. Grindelwald could feint towards Britain, then change tactics and take Russia." Harry rubbed at his temples. This was such a fucking mess. "How have you been handling today?" Charlus asked. "I hate seeing Dorea like that, but at least it was a distraction."
"I spent most of it with Elena. The news hit her hard."
"Bless her. Nice girl, but she seems a bit soft."
Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. She just cares about Dorea."
Charlus stared back out the window. "We might find out who's delicate and who isn't soon."
Harry's heart began pounding while he eyed Charlus's pockets. There were no obvious signs that the cloak was stowed away inside any of them. Do I ask? The timing felt right, but he couldn't make himself do it. His tongue felt thick and clumsy, his throat dry and uncooperative.
Charlus drew his wand and plastered on an obviously feigned smile. "At least we know it won't be us. You up for a round?"
Harry slowly let go of his thoughts about the cloak and took several steps back with his wand in hand. "Let's go, then."
Meanwhile, in the dungeons…
Any minute now. The fingers of her right hand curled tight around her wand, while the fingers of her left held Macnair's triangular card. It was a clever bit of magic — there was a Protean Charm allowing for two-way communication.
Not that it would be any use. It would be too contrived a lure and one Burke would anticipate following the disappearance of at least one group member.
It might have been too soon. Lestrange had not officially been involved. Her stomach twisted in guilt each time she pondered that. I broke my word to Harry.
But she'd had no choice. Lestrange had seen the murder and Memory Charms weren't perfect. It was a risk I couldn't take, and he would likely have ended up in the group soon enough. There had been so much pressure on him from so many sides.
Burke would come here of his own accord. Every meeting she had glimpsed in Macnair's mind had taken place here and the room had been enchanted like hers on the third floor. A smooth oak desk shone with polish and a long leather couch sat against the backmost wall. There were no lamps or torches — instead the room was lit by magical spheres of light that cast long shadows across all four walls. Piles of parchment were strewn across the desk and a black travelling cloak still lay across the couch.
This room is used often. Burke would return and his study group had just adjourned not fifteen minutes ago. Rookwood had told her as much earlier that day and his loyalty was absolute.
She sensed his presence outside and transfigured the triangular card into a jagged shard of stone. The door creaked open.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Emily had been prepared to banish the jagged rock towards Burke, but instead she intercepted his Killing Curse, her heart in her throat. She had been unprepared for that and every muscle in her body had tensed.
The door ripped free of its hinges and lurched towards her, but she plucked it from the air and used it as a shield against Burke's next three spells. It burst into flames that became a whip she cracked towards him. The flames' tips seared his side and sent him stumbling into the path of a Bone-Breaker that shattered his right leg.
Burke screamed, but no one would hear him. Not down here and not through the Silencing Wards that had already been on the room. It's so convenient when they dig their own grave.
"You!" Burke gasped through heaving, pain-filled breaths. "Fucking hell. I was expecting —"
"Harry?" A pained grunt answered. "You'll wish it was him before long. He's a much better person than I am."
"When the card changed hands, I thought… I thought —"
"You had a chance to bring your master what he wanted? You wouldn't have beaten Harry, but he might have been merciful."
It would have cost us everything, but he might have been anyway. Fondness welled up inside her, but she shoved it back down and let anger's haze cloud all else.
"Why do you fight him?" Burke asked, crawling slowly towards the door.
Emily summoned his fallen wand and snapped it against her knee, then strode forward and stomped on one of Burke's hands. A sharp gasp left him then morphed into a pained whimper when she twisted her foot and dug in her heel.
Her expression was unchanged by his suffering. "Because he tried taking Harry from me, just like you did. Both of you will pay; first you, then your master."
Burke had the audacity to laugh at her. "You delusional mudblood —"
"Crucio."
She could feel his hand twitching beneath her heel. His screams rang off the walls until his voice grew hoarse. Only then did she lift the spell.
Emily took a moment to let him sob. "You won't speak to me like that again." She spoke like someone might while teaching a dog or correcting a child.
"Go to hell!"
She just clicked her tongue. "Crucio." She spoke the incantation carelessly and let him writhe until a thin stream of blood trickled out between his lips.
"You will be perfectly obedient by the time we're finished," she told him while he gasped and sobbed. "I'll keep you alive until you are, and I don't think you'll want that for much longer." She stepped back off his hand and leant leisurely up against the wall. "Now, I have some questions for you, and you'll be giving me some answers."
Soon after…
Harry felt someone on his tail, but there was no sign of them. He held his wand beneath his robes but never cast a spell. If they were skilled enough, they might feel him cast something like Homenum Revelio. You know they're following you, don't give away the advantage. Magic pooled at the tip of his wand, prepared to form a shield at the barest thought.
Part of him had expected an attack. It was strange how calm he was. It was like the fight against Grindelwald had dulled his nerves. I guess once you fight a dark lord, students don't scare you much. Not when there was only one — and Harry was sure there was only one. Maybe they won't attack; maybe they know it would be a mistake.
The walls fell away on each side when he halted. Corridors branched off to his left and right and one loomed up ahead. Harry turned his back to that corridor and stared back the way he came. The hall was straight and narrow. No good path of retreat and nothing around but long-abandoned classrooms.
Emily's words rattled inside his skull and his fingers tightened on his wand. Can I really do it? How was this duel going to end? Could he just capture whoever was chasing him?
He waited for the first curse, but nothing happened. He could sense the presence, but not exactly where it was. "I know you're following me."
"You were supposed to." There was a shimmer and then the spell fell.
Harry sneered at pale-faced Antonin Dolohov and remembered their duel last year. "Why am I not surprised? Was your last beating not enough?"
"There's no element of surprise this time."
"And there's no one here to save you. Not unless your master's here."
Dolohov sneered. "You think I'm doing this for Grindelwald?"
"You were in my dorm the night I was attacked."
"So what?" Glad to have that guess confirmed. "I took the excuse to help hurt you. I've been wanting to do that for a year. Grindelwald offered me a reason."
So he doesn't care if fighting me in the open like this jeopardizes Grindelwald's plans. He probably has no intention of serving him long-term. Dolohov was a special kind of monster.
The kind who shouldn't be let free. That voice sounded remarkably like Emily's, but still it made him shudder. I don't think I can kill him.
"You're insane." Dolohov made no denial. "This is mental, Dolohov. You can't beat me." His heart was beating like thunder. Don't make me do it.
"Maybe not using classroom spells." Sparks flickered on the tip of Dolohov's wand. "This is different." The sparks took on an emerald shade and Harry readied himself for Dolohov's first spell.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
He intercepted the jet of green light with a flock of ravens. The spell killed one, but the others morphed into gleaming daggers that flashed towards Dolohov.
Same plan as last time. Don't let him get into a rhythm. Don't let him attack. Harry followed the blades with a barrage of curses that Dolohov defended expertly.
Another Killing Curse sailed between the gap in Harry's spells, but it slammed against a conjured wall of stone that shattered into swirling green fire that he banished towards Dolohov while transfiguring the stone around his feet until it snatched at his robes and held him in place.
The green flames slammed against a dark blue shield that flickered and just barely held. Harry saw Dolohov's face for a moment — saw the first signs of panic in his eyes.
Don't give him time; don't let him fight back. His offence is better than his defence.
"FULGURA!"
White light flashed so brightly that Harry staggered back and felt the light sear his eyes.
Thunder shook the floor and brought down small bits of dust. Stone crumbled overhead. It sounded like the whole ceiling came down, but no stones struck anywhere near him.
His ears rang, and for a moment, he feared the spell might have deafened him, but the ringing soon subsided.
Thanks again, Dumbledore. An elemental trick learned not long ago; one Dumbledore should have lived to see.
The white spots cleared and Harry gawked through his translucent shield. Great plumes of dust rose from the spot where Dolohov had stood.
Bloody hell, the ceiling really did come down. The floor above had completely caved in and there was no sign of Dolohov.
Cold fingers trailed up his spine. No! Homenum Revelio. The spell detected nothing beneath the rubble. No! Harry swished his wand and vanished the debris.
Dolohov's body was a mangled mass of shredded skin and broken bones. Blood-spotted bone poked out through his sides, and his neck bent at an awful angle that exposed jagged bits of bone still gleaming like pale marble.
Footsteps pounded behind him and Harry tried turning. He couldn't let himself be found. He had to stop whoever was coming, he had to run, he had to do anything but stand there.
Yet he couldn't move and his knees shook so badly that he swayed back and forth, choked by rising bile and frozen by a single truth.
I'm a murderer.
Author's Endnote:
And slowly the battle lines are drawn.
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