The Cup
"Come on, Evans, just one kiss is all I'm asking for," James said suggestively, waggling his eyebrows at the redhead as he held up a mistletoe trimming.
"I'm not just going to kiss you, Potter. You have to earn it," Lily replied with a teasing wink as she walked away with her friend, leaving the gaping James staring dumbly at her retreating from.
"Still not ready to give in?" Sirius asked with a sigh.
James shook his head.
"I know what I'm doing," James chuckled, undeterred by yet another rejection.
Harry had been led to believe that his father's pursuit of Lily Evans had been a one-sided affair. From what he had seen, however, his mother had enjoyed the attention, had even encouraged it, for the most part.
Sometimes, she would get frustrated with James, but she never dismissed his advances. She undoubtedly often thought he was a prat, though it was clear she liked him.
Having watched many interactions of the duo since they'd started Hogwarts some three years prior, he had been granted an invaluable insight to the kind of people his parents were without any outside bias.
James was a mischief maker through and through, but he was a dedicated student and incredibly gifted in the art of Transfiguration. He often found himself provoking the ire of Professor McGonagall with his antics, though the woman had developed a soft spot for the boy.
Even when she was chastising him for one of the pranks pulled by the Marauders, she did so with fondness as she punished him.
Lily was an exceedingly talented witch in her own right and tended to abide by the rules. Charms and Potions were her favourite subjects, but she seemed to thrive in whatever it was she was studying.
When she first arrived at Hogwarts, she was overwhelmed by the changes in her life and it took some time for her to adjust. When she did, however, and she was comfortable with her new surroundings, she had fallen in love with the magical world. She could be hot-headed at times but she was a kind girl with a beautiful.
Harry's had been tainted, and in truth, he saw little of his mother and father in himself. If anything, he seemed to take after the Peverells of old much more, and even Charlus who had experienced hardship after hardship throughout his life.
Nonetheless, he felt blessed to be given an insight into the lives of James and Lily Potter and wondered sadly what he would have been like had Voldemort not come for him on the fateful Halloween night.
He shook his head of those thoughts. It would not do to dwell on what could never be.
Instead, he checked the clock and began readying himself for his trip to France.
It had only been the previous week that he was there once more, celebrating his birthday with Nicholas and Perenelle whom he had not seen as much as he would have liked to recently.
With his plan on the cusp of being put into action, preparing for the upcoming school year, and keeping an eye on the giants who had yet to leave their camp, his time was limited.
He managed to continue on with his own training as a priority and had even met with Daphne a few more times over the intervening weeks, but today he was to keep the promise he'd made to Gabrielle to allow her to show him around the magical district of Paris.
'You'll make a fine, professor, Harry,' Nicholas had assured him.
"Fucking Nicholas," Harry snorted.
Although Dumbledore had been the one to conjure the idea, the alchemist had done nothing to talk him out of it. If anything, Harry suspected the man had all but convinced the headmaster with his input.
Shaking his head, he made a futile attempt at taming his hair in the mirror before gathering his things.
Today, he would be in France, but tonight, he would be in the bowels of one of the best protected buildings in wizarding Britain, and if things took a turn for the worst, he might just find himself either dead or in prison.
Neither was a desirable outcome, but with what was at stake, Harry knew there was little choice.
The cup could not be left in the vault.
Voldemort had already broken into Gringotts once before, and Harry had no doubt the man would do it again if he felt the need to.
(Break)
"My people are ready to move," Greyback informed him, his tone one of finality. "I gave you six weeks, and the full moon comes tonight."
The Dark Lord nodded.
"I am grateful for you waiting. You may proceed as you intend, Fenrir."
The werewolf merely grunted and Lord Voldemort watched him disappear back into the home that had once belonged to his muggle family.
"Are you certain we are ready, my lord?" Barty questioned.
"I would not proceed if we were not," the Dark Lord answered simply. "How are your endeavours faring?"
Barty shook his head.
"It seems we have recruited all those willing to risk it. I expect the numbers will increase once they remember just who you are, my lord."
"And your other efforts?"
"Nothing, my lord. When he is at Hogwarts, there are none who knows where the boy stays. He is not with the muggles as Lucius suspected. I think it is likely he has his own home, and there is little hope that it will be found. Potter is not as foolish as his parents to put his safety in the hands of others."
"I think you are perhaps correct, Barty," Voldemort mused aloud. "He is a strange boy."
"And a dangerous one, my lord," Barty returned.
Voldemort hummed.
"If he cannot be gotten outside of the castle, then it will have to be done from within. The plan has not changed, old friend. Within the year, Potter will be dead and Dumbledore with him."
Barty grinned at the declaration, his faith within his master never having wavered.
"What do you need from me, my lord?"
(Break)
The magical district of Paris was one of her favourite places to go. Ever since her father had taken her to work with hm when she had been only five years old, Gabrielle had fallen in love with the majesty and quirkiness the French capital had to offer.
There were vendors lining the streets, demonstrating, and selling their wares, and all manner of food to tempt any appetite. Gabrielle had always been fond of the delicacies here, especially the chocolate.
"And that's one of the oldest apothecaries in Europe," she explained to Harry as she pointed towards the little hut.
Even now, it remained as it had been built. The roof was thatched with a mixture of fauna, and the rest of the building was made of mud. It was all held together by magic designed to preserve it.
"I can smell it from here," Harry chuckled. "It smells like Snape's cupboard."
"You don't like Potions?"
"I do," Harry replied. "I'm just not as good with them as I am other things."
"You prefer something that involves using your wand."
"I'm better with my wand, or at Runes. I do well enough with Runes."
Gabrielle smiled.
It had taken weeks for them to meet up as planned, but it had been worth it. Spending time with Harry was easy for her. He was not like everyone else. It didn't bother him that she was a Veela, and he was able to fend off her magic.
It certainly helped that she was attracted to him. Not that she planned on pushing anything with him. With what had happened to Katie Bell, Gabrielle wouldn't, even if she often thought of the desire she harboured for him.
She had perhaps thought that the bond connecting them from the life debt was responsible for her admiration of Harry Potter, but that simply wasn't true.
It was simply who he was; the mysterious, aloof, yet gentle and caring soul he possessed she was becoming enamoured with.
Gabrielle gasped as a sudden wave of her magic escaped her, and she found herself short of breath. This had been a common occurrence during her recovery and happened sporadically even now.
When it did, any boy around her would all but drool in response, and even Harry took a moment to compose himself from the unexpected onslaught.
"Are you okay?" he asked with a look of concern, taking her by the hand and given it a squeeze.
Despite it being a hot August day, his skin was soberingly cold and Gabrielle looked at him in horror.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "That happens sometimes, I can't help it."
Harry shook his head as he began leading her away from the staring crowd.
"You don't have to apologise," he assured her. "Just take as long as you need."
Gabrielle smiled weakly, doing her utmost to hide her embarrassment. The magical outbursts, whatever they were, tended to be fuelled by sudden influxes of hormones which emitted a scent designed to attract a mate.
It was a deeply personal and intimate thing for a Veela, which was usually a controllable part of what they were.
"I-I didn't mean anything by it," she stammered.
"It's fine," Harry replied amusedly. "It doesn't have to be a big deal unless you make it that way. It has turned my legs to jelly a little," he admitted with a shake of his head.
"I can't believe that happened," Gabrielle whimpered, hiding her face in her hands. "It is so embarrassing. It would have been better if I wet myself."
"Do you do that too?" Harry teased. "Is that a way of marking your territory."
Gabrielle glared at him but she burst into peals of laughter.
"I'm not a dog, Harry. Even my avian side has no desire to pee on anything."
"There you go then," he said with a shrug. "It would have been embarrassing if you peed yourself if it's not in your nature. Are you feeling better?"
"No," Gabrielle grumbled. "I'm still embarrassed."
"How about we get some ice cream?" Harry suggested. "It might make you forget all about it."
"I wish you would forget all about it."
"That's not going to happen, I'm afraid," he sighed airily. "It is forever ingrained in my mind."
"Shut up," Gabrielle huffed as she allowed him to lead her away, realising he was still teasing her.
He seemed completely unabashed by what had happened since recovering from the suddenness of it, and Gabrielle watched him closely as they walked towards the nearby ice cream stall.
Harry had not batted an eyelid at any of it, had taken it in his stride and even assuage her fears that it had been a terrible thing to have occurred. In truth, it had been, but he had made it so easy to get past and not made any fuss about it.
Gabrielle smiled warmly to herself.
Harry Potter was complicated, the situation between them perhaps more so, but she would be lying to herself if she denied that the more time she spent with him, she didn't just want him more.
Her inner-avian agreed, and though she had felt she could perhaps take control of the situation and ignore those primal and emotional urges towards him, now she may be falling into him a little too deeply to find her way back to the surface.
(Break)
"Bloody hell, I hope Harry is sure about this," Tonks whispered nervously. "If we get caught…"
She left the statement hanging, evidently not wishing to even consider what would happen to them if the goblins were to discover their ploy. The creatures were not known for their mercy, and only rumours of what their justice system entailed reached the ears of witches and wizards, by design.
Sirius could not help but share his cousin's reservations. As well considered as the plan was, it was not as perfect as Harry made it sound. He'd assured them he would get them out, even if it meant fighting his way through swathes of goblins, but that was not a desirable thought.
Nonetheless, Harry would not take such a risk unless it was absolutely necessary. What he could want from Bellatrix's vault seemed inconsequential in comparison to what they were going to undertake, and it certainly wouldn't matter to the goblins.
Whether or not it was a singe Knut or an entire fortune, the would take the same exception to such a transgression being committed against them.
"Bloody hell," Sirius echoed.
Tonks nodded as she began shifting her features to match those of her aunt and grimaced at the differences she felt.
The metamorph was not as tall as Bellatrix, nor was she as lithe in build, so it would take some adjustments in how she carried herself.
"What do you think?" she asked.
Sirius's expression told her all she needed to know. He looked upon with utter revulsion as he nodded.
"The sight of you makes me feel sick if that helps."
Tonks snorted humourlessly as she shrunk one of her fingers to a stump and attached the transfigured prosthetic that was filled with Bellatrix's blood. If the wand wasn't sufficient to prove her identity, the blood would leave the goblins in know doubt, or so Harry had told them.
"Are you ready?" Sirius questioned nervously.
Tonks released a deep breath.
"As I'll ever be," she sighed. "If this goes wrong, we are either dead or I will be out of a job. Harry better know what he is doing. Where is he anyway?"
Sirius shrugged.
"He said he'd be there; we just wouldn't know it unless things went wrong."
"How is he planning on getting into the bank?"
"He has a way," Sirius said dismissively, wondering if the cloak would circumvent the security, though knowing Harry, he would have tested that meticulously before deciding on pursuing this ludicrous plan.
"Then we should get going before I change my mind," Tonks murmured.
Sirius nodded his agreement and took a long draught of the Polyjuice potion Harry had provided. His transformation into Rodolphus Lestrange was an unpleasant one, and the taste of the brew alone made him want to vomit.
With both of their disguises in place, they took their leave of Grimmauld Place, each filled with trepidation for the task ahead of them.
Although Diagon Alley was almost empty when they arrived, Tonks pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to hide her features, and followed Sirius towards the imposing, white building in the not-so-far distance.
When they reached it, both pointedly ignored the infamous warning carved into the marble and stepped inside, approaching one of the tellers without preamble.
"I would like to visit my personal vault," Tonks said sharply, affording the goblin the same level of respect Bellatrix would have.
Sirius had to remind himself that this was not his hated cousin in his presence, and even the goblin was not taken aback by how he'd been addressed.
"Certainly, Lady Lestrange," it complied with a leer. "Your wand, please."
Tonks offered it, and the goblin examined every inch of the length of wood before humming.
"That seems to be in order. Now, a sample of your blood, if you don't mind," he requested, offering Tonks a pointed dagger.
The woman rolled her eyes and huffed irritably as she accepted it and provided the sample.
The goblin seemed almost disappointed as he informed them once more that all was as it should be and gestured for them to follow.
"Not you," Tonks snapped at Sirius. "You have no business in my personal vault. Wait here."
Sirius shot her a sour look and Tonks left him in her wake, scarcely comforted by the fact he would be in the foyer to alert her if something was amiss. From here on out, she would be alone unless Harry truly was waiting for her.
As ever, the ride in the cart proved to be an uncomfortable experience, even more so with how much further down she travelled in comparison to where she visited her own vault.
Bracing herself as she spotted the waterfall ahead, she focused on maintaining her magic and didn't miss the pointed look the goblin shot her as they passed through.
"Given your status amongst your people, I must say I am surprised you ventured here. It is rather risky, Lady Lestrange."
"My reasons are my own," Tonks replied dismissively, though she could not ignore the niggling feeling that something would soon go amiss. Thus far, the plan was unfolding too smoothly for her liking.
Even after they reached the vault and the door had been opened, she waited to be discovered, only for the goblin to tap his foot impatiently.
"Hufflepuff's cup," she announced, pointing to object Harry had conjured a replica of.
The goblin bared his teeth and looked almost disappointed once more as he began seemingly undoing some protective charms that had been cast on the vault.
He had wanted her to attempt to get it herself, or he simply assumed she knew she would be unable to without his assistance to avoid whatever security measures had been put in place here.
Again, Harry had been right in his assumption that Bellatrix would insist upon every protection around something the Dark Lord had given her.
Tonks watched as the goblin scowled when he picked up the cup, his narrowed eyes snapping towards her.
"We do not take kindly to guarding such things, Lady Lestrange. I would advise that you do not bring it back within our walls."
Tonks scoffed.
"You guard whatever you are paid to guard. Do not pretend your morality is being infringed upon, goblin."
The creature was furious at being addressed in such a manner, but it said nothing as it ushered her out of the vault and slammed the door shut, handing her the cup as though it was disgusted by its mere presence.
She accepted it and shuddered as the vile magic washed over her before climbing back into the cart, hardly believing they seemed to have gotten away with it without a hitch.
Her inner celebration was short-lived, however. As the cart ascended a loud alarm sounded and they came to a grinding halt on the track.
"What is happening?" Tonks demanded to know.
The goblin scowled as he listened.
"It appears that there is a significant disturbance in Diagon Alley," he muttered. "The bank has gone into lockdown until it passes."
"What disturbance?"
The goblin leered at her.
"I am no seer, Lady Lestrange," he growled. "Perhaps you were not as careful as you thought and the aurors have arrived in force."
"I was not seen," Tonks muttered, though the nervousness she had felt threatened to spill over.
What was happening in the alley?
Was the goblin tricking her because they had somehow been alerted to what she and Sirius were doing?
No, it couldn't be. If that was so, she would not be sitting in a cart with one of the goblins. The creature would be attempting to throttle her by now, and as she felt the phoenix pendant she wore around her neck grow warm, she suspected that something truly was amiss outside of the bank, but what?
(Break)
"Feed away, Fenrir," the Dark Lord instructed.
He followed as the mixture of werewolves and Death Eaters spilled out into the neighbouring Diagon Alley, and the sweet screams of pain and panic followed quickly.
Explosions rent the air as the various shops were targeted, and Lord Voldemort simply watched and waited for whatever response would come.
Not that it mattered,
In only mere moments, his followers would leave, and the werewolves would vanish into the night to continue feasting as they pleased. They would then be Greyback's problem, and the Dark Lord very much looked forward to the resulting news reports that would follow.
With a grin of ecstasy at the cacophony of misery being created by the combined efforts of the werewolves and his Death Eaters, he pointed his wand towards the sky.
"Morsmordre!"
(Break)
Sirius was startled by the ground trembling beneath his feet, and the goblins within the bank immediately sprang into action. The two guards stationed outside rushed into the foyer and began barking instructions gobbledygook, closing the front doors as an alarm began blaring throughout the bank.
"What's happening?" Sirius asked one of the tellers as they rushed by.
"Werewolves," the goblin growled. "NO ONE IS TO LEAVE UNTIL WE GIVE THE ALL CLEAR!" he announced to the few panicking patrons.
Sirius groaned.
If werewolves were attacking the alley, that could only mean one thing; Voldemort had sent them.
"Harry!" he whispered worriedly, wondering if the boy was aware of what was happening outside.
(Break)
With each passing moment, Tonks' concern only grew, as seemingly did that of her Goblin companion. As much as she tried to reassure herself that something other than what she had done had triggered the alarm, it become increasingly difficult.
Why else would the bank go into lockdown?
She'd never heard of Gringotts taking such measures before, so it couldn't be a circumstance of coincidence, could it?
Her pendant grew warm against her neck once more and the metamorph briefly wondered what could be happening that was so urgent. Was it linked to the bank?
Before she could ponder it any further, the goblin suddenly slumped forward unconscious, and she almost screamed as Harry's floating head appeared.
"What's happening?" she asked frantically.
"I don't know, but we didn't trigger an alarm down here. It came from the foyer," the boy answered. "Either way, I don't think we should hang around."
"My pendant has been alerting me," Tonks informed him. "It is only used if an emergency is happening."
Harry frowned and nodded, appearing with a wave of his wand.
He was sitting atop a broom next to the cart.
"Get on the back and hold tight," he urged.
With a little help from him, Tonks managed it.
"How are we going to get out of here?" she asked.
"You didn't think I didn't prepare for this, did you?" he asked with a smirk.
With another wave of his wand, she felt herself being enveloped in a what felt like a blanket of cold, imposing magic.
"Obliviate," he murmured. "It's best he doesn't remember anything from the last few moments, even if he is asleep. This is going to get messy. Don't let go."
Tonks could hear the mixture of nervousness and excitement in his tone and she screamed once more, clinging to Harry for dear life as he shot along the length of the track at breakneck speed.
She truly thought she was going to die at any given second, and it didn't help when Harry cursed and changed to a vertical direction.
"Was that a fucking dragon?" Tonks gasped in disbelief, as she dared a brief glance downwards at the white behemoth.
"Yeah, a big fucker," Harry laughed, "but this is the fun bit."
Before Tonks could question him, a loud explosion almost deafened her, though she heard the panicked screams of others and another explosion before the smell of fresh air informed her that they were no longer in the musty bowels of the bank.
Looking down once more, she shook her head in disbelief.
"You're insane, Potter," she choked.
Harry had not only blown them through floor of the foyer of Gringotts, but also out of the building itself, leaving a gaping mess in his wake. The goblins were going to wroth.
"It's not like the will know it is us, will they?" he snorted.
Tonks could only shake her head once more, questioning if Harry was more insane than Sirius. This was the kind of thing he would do in this situation, after all.
Sirius.
He was still Gringotts.
Harry seemed to read her thoughts.
"He will be fine," he said dismissively. "The goblins will have other things to worry about. We should be more focused on what is happening down there," he added.
Tonks looked down, and her thoughts on what else could possibly happen this night were answered by the sight of the fight unfolding below them in Diagon Alley.
From here, she could see dozens of dark robes figures, the red of her colleagues, and a myriad of others in what could only be describe frantic melee.
"Are you any good on a broom?" Harry asked.
"I can fly well enough," Tonks answered worriedly. "Why?"
She feared the impending answer.
"Good. I need you to get the cup back to Grimmauld Place. That is more important than anything else. Go straight there and wait for me. Do not give it to anyone else, or even let them know about it."
"Okay, Harry what are you doing?" she demanded to know as he stood on the broom.
"I'm going to help them." Tonks screamed as the cold magic was pulled away from her and Harry hurled himself off the broom. They were several hundred feet in the air, and it took her a moment to take control of the Firebolt she remained seated upon.
'I need you to get the cup to Grimmauld Place. That is more important than anything else.'
It took all of her willpower to ignore the instinct to throw herself into the fray below. If Harry Potter was so insistent that the cup was so important, and had risked breaking into Gringotts to get it, the significance of the seemingly inane cup must be paramount.
With that in mind, she urged the broom onwards, leaving the fighting, the damaged bank, and everything else behind as she flew towards the Black residence, still questioning the sanity of Harry Potter from all he had done in the passing moments.
(Break)
Sirius could only gape at the hole in the roof of the bank, laying on his back from where he had flung himself to the side at the sound of splinter splintering rock and mortar.
The goblins too were in a state of shock, and Sirius took the opportunity to make his escape from Gringotts.
None paid him any heed as he dragged himself through the rubble and through the front doors that had been smashed open by a large chunk of rock, though as he took in his surroundings, he was no less comforted.
Everywhere he looked people were running, some garbed in dark robes and sporting white masks, others snarling werewolves of which he was very familiar. Amongst them were aurors and even members of the Order, though these were far fewer than the enemies they were attempting to fight off.
Inevitably, they quickly found themselves at a disadvantage, bunched together in front of Obscurus Books, casting spell after spell against a seemingly endless wave of enemies.
It was only a matter of time before they would be overwhelmed.
At the very front of the group, Sirius could see the long white hair and beard of Dumbledore, his wand in hand as he fought furiously.
Even with Dumbledore, however, the numbers they faced were insurmountable.
Gritting his teeth and drawing his own wand, Sirius did not hesitate to throw himself into the mix, creating confusion and bloody murder as he attempted to carve a path of freedom for the aurors and gathered members of the Order.
"GO!" he roared, shuddering as a wave of unpleasant coldness washed over him.
Even the werewolves were unsettled by the sudden presence and howled warily.
Sirius looked up with trepidation, expecting to see a swarm of dementors fall upon them all, and he frowned at the clear sky. Nonetheless, the presence only grew strong, and he heard a gentle thud sound over the din, though it seemed to echo ominously throughout the alley.
His eyes widened at the sight of Harry landing only a short distance away from him, his wand drawn and hanging at his side loosely, his eyes almost glowing in the light of the Dark Mark that hung above them.
He said nothing as he raised his wand slowly, and the coldness increased considerably, leaving Sirius with a similar sense of despair the dementors brought.
What was this magic?
His answer came in the form of a sudden, rhythmic clattering that grew closer, and the Lord Black gasped as dozens of seemingly ghostly figures marched into Diagon Alley from all the roads nearby that led to it.
They were knights, some mounted on horses, and all dressed ready for battle, each grasping their weapon of choice.
With only a nod towards the Death Eaters and werewolves, they charged, screaming a myriad of battle cries as they did so.
(Break)
Without the likes of Alastor and Kingsley, and even the fallen Dorcas Meadows and Benji Fenwick, the members of the Order quickly found themselves out of their depths and overwhelmed by the superior numbers of the Death Eaters.
Few amongst them had any real fighting experience, and even with the support of the modest group of aurors that had arrived, they were cornered and were all but fighting for survival.
For Albus, it demonstrated that he simply no longer had those experienced in such things at his disposal, and though he had talented witches and wizards in his ranks, they were not warriors.
The Order of the Phoenix were simply now useful for information gathering and spying with little combat capabilities.
The only saving grace was that Tom had now declared himself publicly, and that when this skirmish was over, the Ministry would no longer be able to deny what had been happening under their noses for more than a year now.
Still, Albus had his doubts of Fudge's acceptance.
The man would likely try to make excuse after excuse to dismiss what was happening here, despite how Diagon Alley had been sacked.
In what seemed to be a fruitless effort, Albus's focus remained on keeping those here as safe as he could, bringing his wand to bear in the defence of others, for what good he could hope to do.
They truly were outnumbered, and the werewolves amongst the Death Eaters were wreaking havoc.
"There's too many of them!" Arthur Weasley gasped.
With a grunt, Albus banished a group of the charging beasts, sending them spilling in all directions. Some simply skidded across the ground and others impacted with the already damaged buildings.
One of them unleashed a yelp of agony as it was impaled on a splintered window frame and kicked its legs helplessly in a bid to break free.
"Where are Tonks and Sirius?" Emmeline Vance asked the very question Albus had already pondered before arriving here.
He had no answer for the desperately fighting woman, and just as he felt that the success of their enemies in reaching them was impending, he felt the same coldness brush against him that had announced the arrival of Harry during the conflict on Azkaban.
Much to the disappointment in himself, it was relief that followed as that coldness grew stronger, and he truly knew in this moment that even he had come to look to the young man to lead the fight against the foes of Britain.
It was odd, almost poetic how much of the fighting ceased as Harry landed in the alley, having seemingly fallen from the sky, his expression one of little more than passive curiosity, though Albus could feel that chilling magic rolling off him in waves.
With merely a gesture of his wand, the sound of rattling armour filled the air and in a matter of seconds, the attackers found themselves set upon by what Albus could only describe as an army of old.
Wielding swords, spears, axes, and maces, the cleaved, stabbed, and bludgeoned their way through the masses. Harry too was amongst them, spell upon devastating spell leaving the tip of his wand with practiced ease.
"We need to move!" Bill Weasley declared, pulling Albus from his stupor.
The headmaster nodded his agreement, once more joining the fray, blasting those garbed in dark or tatty robes aside to lead the cornered Order and aurors to freedom.
(Break)
'He will have a power the Dark Lord knows not…'
Voldemort looked on; his jaw tightened in anger as the chaos ensued before him. He had perhaps convinced himself that Potter's appearance on Azkaban had been something of a fluke, and the boy had merely managed to take advantage of an already volatile situation, turning it in his favour.
As the Dark Lord once more felt that ominous and unsettling magic permeate around him however, he was no longer so convinced.
Whatever power Potter possessed was quite disconcerting, and he wielded it well for one so young.
For the first time in many years, an unease crept into his very core, one that planted a single seed of doubt somewhere inside him that he simply could not allow to grow.
Not an easy feat, and only made more difficult as the ranks of werewolves scattered in the night at the sight of the enormous, white dragon sitting atop Gringotts that had unleashed a roar to announce its presence.
Where had such a beast come from?
He'd heard the same rumours that circulated around the wizarding population of the goblins using them, but they'd never been fully substantiated.
It was enough to give his followers pause, and evidently, they decided against remaining here. Those that had portkeys activated them, and the others made a hasty retreat, disappearing into the shadows where they could simply divest themselves of their garb.
The Dark Lord growled, though he knew not all was lost.
Surveying the destruction wrought; the demolished buildings and bodies that lay around Diagon Alley, and the limbs strewn here and there, his declaration had been made.
Potter may have come to the rescue in one of his heroic escapades, but it would be the death, the violence, and utter domination of his forces that would be remembered here.
With a final satisfied glance, he followed the example of his followers, and took his leave of this place.
(Break)
With the Death Eaters and werewolves having fled to avoid being cut down, Harry's gaze drifted across the length and breadth of the alley for any sign of Voldemort. However, all that remained was the Dark Mark hanging imposingly above them, and the trail of death and destruction left in the wake of the attackers.
Now that it was the Order, the aurors, and the survivors who had managed to avoid being slaughtered, the summoned knights gathered in front of Harry, taking a knee in front of him.
"You fought as bravely as I could ever ask of you," he murmured. "Rest in peace, friends."
"Come Death, come," they returned as one before vanishing in a plume of smoke, though not before several flashes from nearby cameras caught them.
Harry cursed under his breath and realised that all eyes were on him, even those of the arriving aurors escorted by Rufus Scrimgeour who was in a state of shock at the scene before him.
"W-what happened?" he stammered.
It was Dumbledore that reached him first, and Harry was content to allow the headmaster to explain the situation as he took in his surroundings.
Bodies littered the ground, businesses lay in ruins, and Diagon Alley itself had been torn asunder by the Death Eaters and werewolves. It would take weeks to repair, and even then, the scars would remain.
"Mr Potter, what happened here?" a tentative voice questioned.
Harry turned to be blinded by the flash of a camera and to find himself faced with a dozen or so journalists who had arrived in the interim.
"What do you think happened?" he returned. "Look above you. That will tell you all you need to know."
The journalists began murmuring amongst themselves as they took notes, and the cameras continued to be used liberally by the photographers.
"Mr Potter, what was that magic you used?"
"What magic?"
"With the armoured knights!"
Harry frowned.
"Was that not a defensive magic of the alley?" he asked, feigning surprise. "I can't say that it had anything to do with me."
It was clear they didn't believe him, but none pressed the matter further.
"What about the alley? What will happen here?"
Harry shrugged.
"That is a question for Minister Fudge," he answered. "I am neither him nor a member of the Wizengamot, but I will say that if the Ministry fails to help those that have lost their means of living, they need only reach out. I will do all I can to help."
"As will I," Sirius declared as he stood at Harry's side. "The House of Black will ensure that none will lose their businesses that were destroyed tonight. The Death Eaters will not win. Whatever they destroy will be rebuilt bigger and better than before."
Once more, the journalists began chattering amongst themselves.
"MINISTER! What do you have to say about what happened here tonight?"
Fudge looked absolutely overwhelmed by the sudden attention, pale and in a state of shock at the scene he had arrived. Harry found it difficult to have any sympathy for the man who had pointedly ignored all that had happened over the last year.
Having said all he wished to on the matter, he offered Sirius a nod.
"Got it," he said in little more than a whisper before vanishing within the folds of his cloak.
Whether Fudge chose to acknowledge the truth of what had occurred was neither here nor there as far as he was concerned. Harry knew, as would wizarding Britain when they woke to the headlines in the morning.
It could be ignored no longer, despite what Fudge would say or do next. If he balked in the face of the reality he faced, he would last only a matter of days in office.
War was no longer on the horizon; it had finally arrived in a rather spectacular fashion.