The Meeting
It was a confused group of men and women that flowed into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, though their expressions became rather sober when they took in Albus's grave demeanour.
"What is it?" Arthur questioned as he took a seat next to Molly at the table.
"A most unpleasant development," Albus sighed. "It has been brought to my attention that Sirius has been kidnapped by the Dark Lord."
"How?" Elphias Doge asked.
"I am not aware of the full details as yet, but both Remus and Kingsley were killed in Knockturn Alley around the same time of the kidnapping."
The gathered members of the Order murmured worriedly amongst themselves.
"If Sirius has been captured, isn't the house compromised?" Sturgis Podmore queried.
"Only if he gives away the location."
"Sirius would die before he did that," Nymphadora piped up sadly. "He'd never tell them anything."
"I am inclined to agree with you."
"So, what do we do?" Amos Diggory broke in. "We can't just leave him to Merlin knows what."
"I'm afraid it is out of our hands," Albus explained. "The Dark Lord has made his demands, but he sent them to Harry. He made it very clear that if any other attempts to interfere, Sirius will be killed."
"Harry will be killed if we do nothing!" Arthur pointed out.
Albus nodded defeatedly though he smiled.
"If nothing else, Harry has time and again proven his resilience and adaptability. He made it very clear to me before he left to do what he felt was necessary that nothing must be done that could compromise the delicate situation."
"We can't just leave Harry to deal with it!" Arthur growled. "Albus, there must be something we can do."
"Until we hear from Harry, I am afraid it is not possible. The Dark Lord has been rather meticulous in his planning and the instructions were clear. Harry alone must carry them out."
His decision did not sit well with many, though having had all he knew explained to them, there was little else to be said on the matter. As much as Albus despised the position he found himself in, there was nothing else to be done.
"Poor Remus and Kingsley," Amos murmured. "Are you certain, Albus?"
The headmaster nodded tiredly.
"Rufus has confirmed via his own contacts that there was an unpleasant skirmish in Knockturn Alley and one of the pubs. Several were killed in the struggle including two men that matched the description of Remus and Kingsley."
Amos could only shake his head, and Cedric looked to be both lost and agitated.
Nonetheless, there was nothing for it. As Albus had explained to the deeply unhappy Order, they would all simply have to wait until they heard from Harry as to what had happened.
Albus dared not consider the possibility that they may not hear from Harry at all.
That prospect was unsettling enough, but he could not deny that it was a distinctly likely outcome should whatever plan Harry managed to formulate did not work in his favour.
(Break)
He stared at the ring adorning the severed finger of his godfather almost absentmindedly, readying himself to stand before the Dark Lord once again, still far from being ready for the inevitable violent confrontation between the two.
How Sirius had found himself in such a foolish situation, Harry didn't know, and in truth, he didn't care in this moment.
His mind was focused on the task at hand and having pondered just what he would do since leaving Hogwarts, he had all but made up his mind. Whether it would go as well as he hoped was another matter entirely, but as ever, he had plans within plans.
He'd learnt that from the Peverells, from watching his Potter ancestors, and from Death.
Harry had not been idle in Voldemort's absence; something that had already worked in his favour.
The prophecy the man sought so sorely had been in Harry's possession for weeks now. Evidently, Tom had not been aware of him obtaining it, which served to give him a little more time to prepare.
Without needing to visit the Department of Mysteries, he'd formulated a plan. If it worked, Sirius would live, and Harry would be granted more than his godfather's release.
If the Dark Lord, however, called his bluff…
Harry shook his head of that particularly unpleasant thought.
No, he was ready as he could possibly have been given the notice he'd received, and ensuring he had everything he would need to survive the encounter, he wrapped himself within the confines of his cloak before picking up the portkey Tom had provided.
With the familiar feeling of being hooked through the navel, Harry was torn from the safety of his home and once more into the unknown.
(Break)
All was silent.
The Dark Lord had heard nothing in response to the missive he had sent to Potter. There had been no sign of the boy at the Ministry of Magic, and no indication he had entered the Department of Mysteries.
Had Potter merely ignored the threat that was hanging over Sirius Black?
He shot the man a look of irritation.
If Potter did not show soon, he would torture Black and tear every piece of information he could from his mind, though he was wary of doing so. The Blacks were famed for their ability in the Mind Arts, and the Dark Lord did not wish to harm himself foolishly.
Black laughed once more as he had been doing sporadically since he'd been captured.
"Do you think Harry values my life enough to do what you want him to?" he asked. "You do realise he's going to gut every last one of you. Who cares if I'm alive to see it or not. I'll be waiting for you in whatever hell you bastards are sent to when he's done with you."
He laughed once more and the Dark Lord silenced him with a wave of his wand.
"Come on, Potter," he growled. "Do not keep me waiting."
His grip tightened around his wand, and the urge to curse the now silently guffawing Black only increased. Had the man lost his mind?
When they'd arrived, he'd been furious, determined to get to any who stepped within a few feet of him. Crabbe had been unfortunate in his effort to goad the man, and Black had torn his ear of with his teeth.
None of the other Death Eaters had gone near him since.
"Where the fuck is the little shit?" Greyback snarled furiously.
The full moon was close, and the werewolf was not as his most charming.
"He will be here," the Dark Lord assured him.
Greyback licked his lips in anticipation.
It was several moments later that a disturbance was detected within the vast network of protections erected here, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes as he scanned the area.
"Come out, Potter! I know you're here!"
(Break)
He shouldn't have expected anything less.
Of course Tom would bring him back to the very place Harry had witnessed the man's rebirth, though this time, it wasn't only the Death Eaters who were present.
Dozens of scraggly and scarred men and women were spread throughout the graveyard. It was a show of strength, though it would have been more impressive had the giants Harry had been tracking for months made it.
They were currently camped on the south-western coast of England, waiting for Tom to put them to use. Little did they know that the moment they attempted to leave their campsite in any direction, they would find themselves quite unable to do so.
Harry grinned to himself briefly from under his cloak.
He'd been unable to intercept the werewolves. There had been too many of them, but he'd kept watch and discovered where they were staying too. More than the giants and werewolves, however, Harry had kept himself busy throughout the intervening months.
"Come out, Potter! I know you're there!"
The very sight of Tom Riddle filled Harry with righteous fury, but he took a few calming breaths to compose himself. It would not do to let his temper get the better of him, not when the situation he faced was so delicate.
With a flick of his wand, he appeared before the gathered crowd, much to Sirius's horror.
"I suppose it was too much to hope that you'd stepped in front of a bus, Tom," Harry sighed in greeting, taking no small amount of pleasure in the tightening of the man's bony jaw.
"I would have thought you would have left your sense of humour behind, considering I have your godfather at my mercy."
"Who's trying to be funny?" Harry replied dryly. "I was quite serious. I really do hope you get hit by a bus, but then again, ripping your guts out through your arse will be much more satisfying."
A burst of red sparks shot from the end of Voldemort's wand and the Death Eaters hissed in displeasure.
"ENOUGH!" the Dark Lord roared. "Do you have what I asked for?"
"I might have," Harry answered with a shrug, "but you're not going to get it until you let Sirius go. He leaves, and I will stay behind."
The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes, though they widened in anticipation as Harry removed the glass orb from within his pocket and held it up invitingly.
"Hand it over," he demanded, holding out his hand expectantly.
Harry shook his head.
"You know my stipulation. You won't get it until he is out of here, Tom."
He felt no concern goading the man. He'd assembled most of his forces as a show of strength, but he would not risk the lives of the few original Death Eaters that remained.
"My Lord, you cannot be considering it," Lucius broke in. "With Black gone, the Wizengamot…"
"Be quiet," Lucius!"
The blonde fell silent and Harry snorted amusedly.
"Still haven't found your balls, Malfoy?" Harry goaded. "Look at you, shaking like a terrified little girl. It's a wonder anyone has any respect for you. I bet even your wife thinks you're a snivelling, pathetic shit. I can see where Draco gets it from."
"You dare?" Lucius hissed as he stepped forward, trembling in fury.
"More than you do," Harry replied. "You gutless prick."
"Lucius! He will be allowed to stand between us," Voldemort decided. "You will hand the prophecy to Greyback and he will release Black to you at the same time."
"That could work," Harry agreed.
The prophecy meant nothing to, and in the grand scheme of whatever Fate had in store, it gave Tom no answers either.
Voldemort gestured for the hulking werewolf to lead Sirius to the centre of the graveyard where Harry met him, his wand trained on Greyback with a vicious spell at the ready.
"Give me a reason," he urged the leering man.
Greyback unleashed a guttural rumbling of his throat and Harry placed the glass orb in his hand.
"Now, run back to your master like a good little dog. We'll be seeing each other soon enough."
Greyback bared his teeth menacingly.
"Greyback, enough. Bring it to me," Voldemort instructed.
The werewolf reluctantly complied and Harry offered the man a feral grin of his own.
"Isn't it a shame that you have to rely on such a scumbag to do your bidding? If only the Death Eaters who so willingly went to Azkaban for you were available. How are they doing anyway? Not too well, I expect."
Voldemort's snake-like nostrils flared.
"I admit, what you did to them was unexpected, but I will have them back."
Harry chuckled humourlessly.
"I doubt that," he snorted.
"I will also have Bellatrix returned to me in due course. I am sure we will reach an accord on that matter. Perhaps I will pay a visit to a certain family of redheads."
"You won't be getting her back," Harry said flatly. "Let's be honest, Tom, it's not her you want, is it?"
Voldemort frowned curiously.
"I think you will find I will appreciate her safe return. Her talents are missed."
Harry shook his head.
"Impossible," he denied. "She'd be of no use to you. Her mind is more broken than you could imagine. She put up quite a fight, more than the others did, but she crumbled in the end. Sirius, get out of here."
The man tried to protest but Harry shot him a stern glare.
"You have already done enough damage, now leave."
He accepted his own offered finger and looked towards Harry imploringly.
"GO!"
Reluctantly, his godfather activated the portkey and Voldemort laughed triumphantly.
"You are a fool for staying. I could kill you where you stand."
"And you are a fool if you think I would come here without a contingency plan," Harry bit back. "You had no intention of allowing me to leave with Sirius. That was why you created the portkey to only transport one person at a time. You thought this was going to be a trap, that you would get the prophecy and me at the same time."
"I do have you, Harry," Voldemort pointed out. "No portkey you have will send you away and you cannot apparate. You're good, Harry Potter and I have underestimated you, but you cannot hope to defeat all of us."
"I don't need to," Harry replied with a shrug. "I don't know what the fuck this is, but I know it is important to you. Retrieving it from Bellatrix's vault wasn't easy, but the look on your face tells me everything I need to know."
Voldemort's eyes were wide with shock as he stared at the small, golden cup Harry removed from his pocket.
"You have no idea what magic you are playing with, Potter," the Dark Lord whispered dangerously.
"You're right," Harry replied ignorantly, but if I was to destroy it…"
"NO!"
It was Harry's turn to feel a sense of triumph as he pointed his wand at the cup threateningly.
"I will allow you to leave, but you will return it to me."
Once more, he held out his hand expectantly, his expression unusually panicked.
Harry shook his head.
"You'll have to do better than that, Tom," Harry murmured. "I'm going to retreat to where the protections around this place end and you're going to do something for me."
Voldemort frowned.
"Such as?"
"You're going to give me a name," Harry demanded darkly. "I want the name of the man responsible for Katie's death, and do not lie to me, Tom. I will know if you're lying."
Voldemort laughed heartily.
"Of all the things you could demand of me and you wish only for a name? You went through all of this for a foolish girl who is dead?"
"That will satisfy me for now," Harry growled. "I will get what I truly want when the time is right."
Voldemort glared at him murderously, his gaze flitting between Harry and the cup.
"Such a noble young man."
"Everything you are not, Tom," Harry retorted. "The name," he added as he began retreating. "I know it isn't Lucius or any of the other cowardly shits who were here that night."
Voldemort began pacing forward slowly, falling into step with Harry's own, followed by his followers.
"It really means so much to you," he said gleefully. "When he told me what he'd done, I only wish I could have been there to witness your misery and suffering for myself."
"Who was it?" Harry pressed as he felt the protections begin to ebb away from around him.
"I will give him the honour of introducing himself. From what I understand, he actually admires you, Harry."
One of the figures moved to Voldemort's side and removed his mask. The man was unfamiliar to Harry at first glance, but there was something about him he recognised rather distinctly.
"It was me," he declared smugly. "I impersonated Moody, controlled my father, and had him slit her pretty little neck."
"Your father?"
"Crouch!" the man snapped impatiently. "I had the misfortune of being named for him."
"Barty Crouch Jr," Harry mused aloud. He'd read about the man's trial, subsequent imprisonment, and death in Azkaban.
He looked older and more worn than the photo Harry had seen, but it was undoubtedly him and having the answer filled him only with thoughts of vengeance.
"Well, Barty, I will be seeing you soon enough. I expect I will be seeing all of you soon enough," Harry added maliciously.
"My property, Harry," Voldemort urged. "You would not rescind on a gentlemen's agreement, would you? I kept my end of the bargain by allowing your godfather to leave."
Harry nodded as his eyes bored into Barty's.
With a shrug, he threw the cup to his right and vanished, chuckling to himself at how furious Voldemort would be when he realised it was a fake.
He'd not yet obtained the real one but would now have to do so as a priority before Tom embarked on that venture himself.
(Break)
The atmosphere within Grimmauld Place was tense. After several hours of waiting, none had opted to leave, each of them needing to know what was transpiring between Harry and Voldemort.
Albus checked the clock on the mantel for the umpteenth time and shook his head, the feeling of concern only deepening with each passing moment. There should have been word by now. Midnight had come and gone, and yet, only silence.
With a flick of his wand, he turned on the nearby wireless, wondering if any reports had been made to incidents that would give them any indication what was happening.
After several minutes of bulletins, there was nothing of note.
"How long has it been?" Cedric asked worriedly.
"Almost eight hours since I spoke with Harry," Albus sighed tiredly. "I would expect…"
His words were cut short as figure landed on the kitchen table with a dull thud.
"Sirius!" Arthur exclaimed. "Where's Harry?"
Sirius looked terrible. He was pale, dishevelled, and his expression was one of abject fear. It took him several moments to gather himself before he was even able to speak, his experience having evidently been a harrowing one.
"He made me leave," he said in disbelief, wincing from whatever discomfort he was enduring. "He gave him the prophecy, Albus, and then made me leave."
"What is the boy thinking?" Sturgis grumbled.
Albus could only shake his head.
"Sirius, what can you tell us?"
"The Death Eaters are there with Greyback and his pack. Albus, there's hundreds of them. I should have stayed. I shouldn't have listened to him."
"Do you know where you were?"
"In a graveyard," Sirius murmured. "It was definitely a graveyard."
Albus frowned thoughtfully, the memory Harry had provided him playing over in his mind.
The Riddle House. It had to be the Riddle House in Little Hangelton.
Albus stood and drew his wand, only to sag in relief as Harry arrived in the kitchen, his expression quite furious.
"How are you?" he asked Sirius.
"I'll be fine," Sirius murmured as he approached Harry. "I'm…"
Those within the kitchen gasped in shock as Harry rammed his fist into Sirius's jaw, the force of the blow sending the man sprawling.
"You have got to be one of the dumbest bastards I've met," Harry declared. "What the hell were you doing that got you caught?"
"Being an idiot," Sirius admitted ashamedly. "We were trying to help you, Harry."
"We?"
"Remus, Kingsley, Tonks, and I," Sirius answered. "Lucius put a bounty out on me and we thought we could take advantage of it by thinning his support."
"Fucking idiots," Harry whispered in disbelief. "Is this a game to you? You are the one thing that is preventing him taking political control of the Wizengamot. If you die, Lucius will own it in days. Did you not even consider that whilst you were being an absolute moron? Where is Remus anyway?"
"Dead," Sirius croaked.
Harry could only shake his head in response and Albus thought he might just punch Sirius again.
"So, you not only got yourself captured, but Remus is dead?"
"And Kingsley," Tonks choked.
Harry took several breaths in an attempt to calm himself.
"What happened, Harry?" Albus pressed gently.
"What happened?" he scoffed. "What happened is that months of my own work has been undone and now I have to find a way to fix it before that bastard takes advantage of it. One of the things we are looking for is in Gringotts."
"In Gringotts?" Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, it will be quite impossible…"
"I know," Harry muttered irritably, "but what choice do we have? The goblins aren't going to just hand it over to us. Unless…"
"Unless?"
Harry shook his head.
"Something I need to figure out," Harry replied dismissively. "Until then, I want you to stay in the house," he instructed Sirius. "If you're not attending a Wizengamot meeting, you're here. You're lucky that he didn't just kill you or that I didn't decide you weren't worth the effort to get back. For once in your life, Sirius, do the right thing."
With that, Harry stormed from the kitchen.
Throughout the entire interaction, only Tonks and Albus had spoken whilst the rest of the Order looked on in shock. In an odd way, Albus was so very proud of Harry.
Sirius had needed to be rescued and chastised for his foolishness, and Albus had no doubt that Harry's words had hurt him much more than the blow he had struck him with.
It was odd to see the man so disappointed in himself, and as he rubbed his jaw, the first of tears fell free. It was indeed a harsh lesson, but one he'd sorely needed.
Now, he'd have to carry the loss of Remus and Kingsley on his conscience, and with Harry's own reprimand, perhaps now Sirius would not be so spontaneous or careless with his life.
"I can't believe he hit me," Sirius grumbled as he finally stood.
"I'm surprised he only hit you once," Cedric responded with a scowl towards Sirius.
Albus could not help but agree with the young man.
Nonetheless, the unpleasant moments the Order had just endured could have been much worse. If Harry had not returned to them or had been gravely injured, it could have presented an opportunity for Tom to seize and advantage.
As much as Sirius was the catalyst for the change in power of the Wizengamot, it was Harry's mere presence and the reputation he was carving for himself that was stilling Tom's own efforts, as much as his desire to remain in the shadows until he had accumulated enough power to act.
Despite this, Albus had no doubt that it would be soon. With the knowledge of the prophecy, he would be cautious, but less reticent than he had been for the past year.
(Break)
He had been duped.
The moment he had picked up the cup, he knew that it was not real which only served to infuriate the Dark Lord beyond measure. He had ben outsmarted by Potter, though his biggest concern was what had happened to his Horcrux?
Was Potter truly ignorant of what it was?
The Dark Lord believed so.
It had taken him years of study to discover what the little soul containers were, how they worked, and how they were created.
No, Potter could not have figured out such an obscure piece of magic.
Nevertheless, the Dark Lord's anger was palpable, and the Death Eaters had all but fled as he'd lost his composure.
Still, he had the prophecy, and that was genuine.
"Neither can live whilst the other survives," Voldemort murmured.
Of course, the desire to see one another dead was mutual, so that part of the prophecy did not matter.
"The power he knows not."
The Dark Lord could not fathom any power that Potter could possess that he didn't, though his mind drifted back to the night he'd visited Azkaban. Potters magic was unlike nothing else he'd ever encountered before; the sheer icy feel of it, the summoning of the ghostly figures that had fought with the boy, and the dementors evident fear of him.
Where had such magic come from?
It was unnerving to say the least, but Potter was still no threat. How could he be? He was but a boy, one who had been blessed with fortune, and nothing more.
When the time was upon them and they met for the final time, it would be Harry Potter who would fall and then there would be no doubt amongst his own followers nor those who would cling to the hope that Potter was the Dark Lord's better.
(Break)
The students that had been present during Potters sudden departure the previous even had been left reeling by what they had witnessed with Daphne sharing their sentiment.
She knew he was a capable wizard, but to see a thestral of all things seemingly emerge from within him and the boy to mount it was not something she would have expected.
It raised many questions, and already, rumours were abounded.
"I just don't get it," Tracey murmured from next to her at the Slytherin table. "He summoned it from inside him! Is he an Animagus?"
"Don't be stupid," Astoria huffed. "It was created by magic. He didn't turn into it."
"Alright, smartarse, you explain it."
Astoria shrugged.
"I don't know what it was, but I felt cold when he rode past me on it."
Daphne had felt that coldness whilst in Harry's company. It was odd, but not overtly threatening to her, though she had no doubt that it could be if he so wished.
Harry Potter was a strange boy, and Daphne could not even begin to explain him.
For the most part, he was quite normal in his ways, but his understanding of magic and his own was like nothing else she had ever experienced. It was almost otherworldly, even if she could not explain how.
"There he is," Tracey whispered.
Daphne looked towards the door to see Harry enter with Granger and Weasley, the former apparently grilling him about what had happened. Harry, however, was clearly in no mood to discuss it and the glare he shot at the girl drifted around the hall that had fallen silent.
He said nothing as he took a seat at the Gryffindor table and continued to pointedly ignore Granger's questions.
"Is it me or is he somehow hotter now?" Tracey asked.
Daphne almost choked on her orange juice as Astoria nodded her agreement.
"Potter?" she asked in disbelief.
Tracey rolled her eyes.
"Come on, Daph, you can't have missed how most of the girls look at him. He was famous before he came here, he's been a Quidditch star since first year, he's the first Triwizard champion in centuries, and he's easy one the eyes."
"His eyes," Astoria added with a smirk. "You must have noticed his eyes."
Daphne's gaze shifted between the two girls.
"I might be sick," she said dramatically.
"Oh, shut up," Tracey snorted. "It's only because of what happened at the end of last year that no one has made a move on him. I even heard some of the seventh years in our house talking about him."
Daphne shook her head, but she looked towards Harry.
She could not deny that he was attractive; his pale skin, jet black hair, and emerald eyes making for a pleasing aesthetic. He was physically fit too from his years of Hogwarts and whatever other training he undertook. He was intelligent, quietly confident, and would be a man of high status when he graduated from high school.
In truth, ticked just about every box any Lord of high standing would look for in a match for their daughters.
Potter, however, was not a pureblood. His own father had married a muggleborn, so Harry would feel no obligation towards tradition.
Daphne absentmindedly pondered what type of girl he would end up with.
Not Granger.
They were friends, but they would be a dreadful match.
No, Potter would end up with a beautiful girl who was not intimidated by his fame, the inevitable attention that would be on them, and who was self-assured.
"What's the plan for today?" Tracey asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"I have library books I need to return," Daphne announced as she stood. "Coming?"
Tracey grimaced as he shook her head, just as Daphne expected.
"Shall I meet you in the Common Room?"
"Can we spend the day outside?"
Daphne nodded.
"By the lake then?"
Tracey grinned happily and Daphne took her leave of the Great Hall, secreting herself in one of the alcoves near the staircase.
She waited only for a few moments until Potter exited and quirked an eyebrow at her questioningly.
"How did you know I was here?"
"I could smell you," he chuckled.
Daphne tutted and gestured for him to follow her into a nearby classroom where they wouldn't be disturbed.
"What happened last night?"
Harry released a deep breath as he dragged his hand through his hair.
"Nothing I couldn't manage."
"Was it him?"
Harry nodded and Daphne offered him a sympathetic smile. How he coped with whatever was happening in his life, she didn't know.
"I suppose this is where you tell me that I owe you for missing last night."
"You don't owe me, Potter," Daphne sighed, "but I wouldn't say no to one more session before the summer."
"I'm surprised you're not trying to insist I teach you over the summer."
"Would you?" Daphne asked.
Harry shrugged indifferently.
"I may be able to find some time, just not straight away. There's a few things I have to do first."
"Because of last night?"
"Maybe."
Daphne huffed irritably.
"You're not very forthcoming, are you?"
"Neither are you."
Daphne conceded the point with a frown.
"Fair enough," she snorted. "Tonight then?"
"Tonight," Harry agreed, bidding her farewell with a wave before he left.
Daphne waited a few moments before following, her thoughts occupied by the conversation she'd had with Tracey and Astoria. Was Harry even aware that there were a considerable number of girls so interested in him?
If he was, he never gave any indication of it, though from what Daphne did know about the boy, it was likely he remained wholly ignorant.
It was rather amusing but understanding.
Harry Potter seemingly had more important things to focus on than the girls of Hogwarts, even if she chose to ignore the smile that his ignorance brought to her own lips.
(Break)
Albus had been left reeling by what had transpired the night before, but he was grateful that Harry had managed to somehow salvage something from a most unpleasant set of circumstances.
The headmaster and the rest of the Order were left in the dark as to what had happened when Sirius had left the graveyard, and unless Harry chose to divulge it, it would likely remain that way.
Albus could only shake his head.
Sirius had been inconsolable, the deaths of Remus and Kingsley weighing heavily upon him, and the sheer disappointment from Harry only added to his grief.
Nonetheless, acting so foolishly had indeed been unwise. Harry had been right to be angry with the man, and it was something that Sirius would not remember.
Whatever progress had been made to form a relationship between the two had undoubtedly been damaged, perhaps beyond repair.
Albus released a deep sigh as the floo of his office chimed, and he hoped beyond hope that something else unpleasant had not occurred so soon.
"Madam Marchbanks?" he greeted the woman in surprise. "Is something wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong, boy, but I would have a word."
"Come through," Albus invited.
Griselda Marchbanks always had a way of making him feel as though he was once again a teenager under scrutiny. It had been the woman herself who had assessed Albus for both his OWL and NEWT exams.
How old she was, none seemed to know. Griselda was seemingly an eternal being who had existed as long as the school assessments.
She stepped through the fire only a moment later, swept the residual ashes away with a wave of her and sat in the seat on the opposite side of the desk to the headmaster, her posture as strong as ever.
"What can I do for you, Madam Marchbanks?" Albus queried.
"I assessed Harry Potter during his practical exams," the woman revealed without preamble. "I must say, it is not often I am impressed by the ability of a student. As you well know. Only you and few others over the years have stood so tall above their peers in such a way."
"And Harry impressed you?"
Griselda nodded.
"He is an exceptionally impressive young man," she replied.
Such words from Griselda were high praise indeed.
"Tell me, Dumbledore, I know that I am old and out of touch, but is there any truth to the rumours circulating?"
"Rumours?"
"Do not act stupid, boy!" Griselda snapped. "You know what it is I am referring to. I'm old not deaf."
The corner of Albus's lips twitched in amusement.
He appreciated Griselda's no-nonsense approach.
"I'm afraid there is much truth to them."
Griselda hummed.
"Then perhaps it would be beneficial to lighten young Mr Potter's load, yes?"
"I'm not sure I understand what you are saying, Madam Marchbanks?"
The woman muttered irritably under her breath.
"It is no secret that whatever is happening, the boy is very much in the middle of it all. You know as well as I do that it will be him everyone will look to. What I am saying, Albus, is that I believe Potter's time would be better spent focused on what will soon come to matter most. Don't you agree?"
"I do," Albus replied carefully.
"Good," Griselda declared. "I was thorough with him during his practical exams. He is certainly beyond NEWT level in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. I would add that his Ancient Runes assessment was of an Outstanding quality. To be eligible to receive his NEWTS, he needs only complete the written assessment for each. His practical work is as exemplary as I have ever seen."
Albus leaned back in his chair.
"This is most unusual," he murmured.
"Harry Potter and his circumstances are most unusual," Griselda pointed out. "I wish to know your thoughts on the matter."
Albus nodded immediately, though he had his reservations.
"Cornelius will not like it."
"Cornelius is a damned idiot that will get us all killed," Griselda said dismissively. "All I need from you is the go-ahead, and I will handle the rest of it."
"Of course, you may proceed," Albus said without hesitation. "What would Mr Potter do with the last two years of his education?"
Griselda shrugged as she stood.
"I expect he will have plenty of free time to pursue whatever he likes," she answered with a slight grin. "I'm old, Albus, but I remember what it was like the first time around not so long ago. I'd rather we did not have to endure that again," she added soberly. "If this is all I can do to help see him defeated for good, then at least it is something."
Albus offered the woman a grateful nod.
"I expect it will make a significant difference."
"Then I will proceed," Griselda replied with a grin, vanishing through the fireplace only a few seconds later leaving an amused and pensive headmaster in her wake.
(Break)
Dear Harry Potter,
I wrote and sent this with the fastest owl I could find in the hope that it reaches you in time. My mother arrived at Durmstrang this morning without my father to attend our yearly award ceremony.
When I asked why he was missing, she mentioned something to do with a plan involving Sirius Black. I'm sorry I do not know more.
My mother is worried, Harry.
She learned recently that a man my father believed was dead is alive and serving the Dark Lord once more. What's worse, is that he is the son of Barty Crouch.
He is dangerous, Harry, so you must be careful if you come across him.
Again, I'm sorry I cannot tell you more, but I will write again if I learn anything else I think you should know.
Stay safe,
I.N
The letter had not arrived in time, but Harry appreciated the effort and the lengths the girl had gone to. She was taking a huge risk by writing to him, and although she had explained that she dd not wish for the world to become what it was during Voldemort's last rise, it was difficult for him to understand why she was so intent on helping him.
Discerning such through letters was no easy feat, but he did know where he would likely find her during the summer break.
Perhaps he would frequent the bar once more in search of his answers, amongst the many other things he needed to tend to in the coming months.
The impending summer would undoubtedly be a busy one, but Harry had accepted long ago that peace was unlikely to be granted to him soon.
No, defeating Voldemort and his followers would take months, perhaps years, but he would be ready.
"Come Death, come," he murmured, his hand closing over the thestral talon around his neck.