The Empty Mind
"I am so sorry about what happened to your parents, James," Lily whispered as she pulled him into a tight embrace. "If there's anything I can do for you…"
James offered her a weak smile.
Had she hugged him so enthusiastically only a matter of weeks ago, his heart would have been soaring, but since the death of his mother and father, it had been lodged somewhere in the deepest recesses of his stomach.
Dragon Pox.
Something of a pandemic had swept across wizarding Britain in recent weeks, a particularly vicious strain of which the Ministry was trying to trace. It had claimed a few hundred lives already, and that number grew by the day.
Of all the things his parents could have contracted, it had to be something so impossibly difficult, near impossible to cure.
Worse still, he'd not even been allowed to visit them in St Mungo's and had spent the beginning of the summer simply waiting for news.
It had been his mother to succumb to the disease first, and though James was assured she did not suffer, that did not soften the blow of the loss, even less so when the news was broken of his father's passing.
For hours, James could only sob until he had no more tears left to fall. Ever since, he had felt numb, lost in the darkness with no light to guide him.
Somehow, he'd managed to compose himself enough to arrange the funerals and ensured both were buried in Godric's Hollow, but all of it seemed to go by in a blur of grief and necessity.
Swallowing deeply, he removed the letters they had written him on their deathbeds, the parchment of each already worn from how often he read their final words that were already forever etched into his mind.
To my son,
I could never have imagined that this would be how I would say my final farewell to you, and though I know you would wish for nothing more than to be with us, it cannot be so.
I need you to know how proud I am of you and that I pass on with the knowledge that the family is in the very best of hands.
In my final moments of clarity, I think of all I have done, and not a thing compares to raising such a fine, young man. The road ahead of you is not an easy one, and I wish I had more time to guide you on your journey, but I have every faith in you, James.
You truly are my greatest achievement.
Find love and happiness, my son. I cannot put into words the wonderful life I have enjoyed with your mother at my side This is not goodbye but a farewell, until we meet again.
Never forget how much you were loved because it is simply immeasurable.
Your Father,
Charlus Henry Potter
A lump formed in James's throat as he stared at the ring that now adorned his finger. He could not claim the Potter lordship for a few months, yet he wore it with such pride.
It made him feel closer to the man he'd lost, gave him pause when making decisions. He'd become less impulsive as he considered what advice his father would give him, and in a sense, he knew that so long as he wore the ring, Charlus Potter would always be with him.
Nonetheless, he could not rid himself of the bitterness he felt by how he'd lost them, and he didn't think he ever would.
"Thanks, Evans," he murmured at the girl who was sitting on the opposite side of the Gryffindor table.
She offered him a sympathetic smile and James released a deep breath as Sirius squeezed his shoulder.
His best friend had been irreplaceable over the last few months, and James did not know what he would have done without him.
Sirius had been there, had dried his tears and held him up when all he wished to do was hide from it all. Without him, James could not begin to fathom what he would have done.
Harry released a deep breath as he was pulled from the memory, partly from the familiar, overwhelming feeling of loss he'd shared with his father, and partly from his own exhaustion.
He'd been training when the cloak had deemed fit to share that vision with him, and he'd yet to physically recover.
It was strange to see the usually vibrant James Potter in such a deplorable state. Harry had watched him grow from the moment he was born, seen him take his first steps, and even obtain his wand from Ollivander before attending Hogwarts.
From there, he'd been in awe at his father's ability in Transfiguration and how he'd managed to not only become an Animagus at the age of fourteen but had even taught his friends how to do it.
It was an astounding achievement for anyone, let alone one so young.
The death of his parents had changed him, however, the same way that the deaths Harry had experienced had changed him. It wasn't only grief that plagued James Potter, but a maturity beyond the simple life of pulling pranks he'd lived thus far.
It was a harsh lesson, and Harry had no doubt it had remained with him until he had met his own untimely end.
"Such a waste," he whispered sadly as he removed the cloak and readied himself to leave the room on the seventh floor.
The Christmas holidays had finally arrived, the first few months of the school year having passed him by quickly. With teaching, the Defence Club, his own studies, and the eerily inactive war, he'd been kept more than busy enough.
Adding the time he spent in the Chamber of Secrets with the basilisk, he felt as though he had barely a moment alone to breathe without having somewhere else to be.
Perhaps he'd taken on too many commitments, but Harry knew he would simply find other things to occupy his free time, though he was looking forward to stepping away from the castle for a while.
This year, he would be spending Christmas with Sirius, a decision he was glad for upon viewing the most recent memory.
Harry had never thought of all that Sirius and his father had done for one another; the trials and tribulations each had faced throughout their teenage years abundant between them.
It made him appreciate that he still had his godfather, even if the man was just as busy as him now.
Minister Black.
His nomination had resulted in nothing short of a landslide, and his appointment had been welcomed by the public at large.
Only a few months ago, the very thought had been amusing, but his godfather was taking his posting seriously, with his primary focus on the war, despite the silence from Voldemort.
Other than werewolf attacks on the full moons that followed the one on Diagon Alley, nothing had been seen nor heard of from the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord was seemingly planning something, which in many ways was worse.
It ensured Harry was one edge, though it could be that Tom was now exercising caution. His inner circle had been depleted and with Sirius at the helm, he could be in no doubt that he would face considerable resistance.
Already the man had given the Department of Magical Law Enforcement a significant budget increase and had reached out to retired aurors to return to their posts on a temporary basis.
Recruitment posters could be seen on every building in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and even a volunteer corps had been created.
Whatever else the Ministry was up to, the public had not been made privy to, but Sirius had assured them all he was doing everything within his power to combat the Dark Lord and his followers.
Coupled with his other duties, it left little free time for the man, though he seemed to be in his element.
Nevertheless, Voldemort's silence was unsettling to say the least, and as Dumbledore had pointed out, the Dark Lord was always doing something, even when he appeared to be doing nothing.
Still, Britain now had a competent leader in place, one that would not shy away from the impending explosion of violence that would sweep across the country.
With that in mind, Harry checked his watch and nodded to himself.
He'd promised the students a final Defence Club before they left the castle for the Christmas break. The progressive they were making both inside and out of the classroom was rather astounding and they took on board every lesson, even those that were not necessarily combat related.
Harry had begun teaching them a slew of defensive charms to protect their homes and belongings, and detection charms to test their food for poisons and any other unpleasant additions.
The latter shouldn't be necessary, but with enemies in the castle, it was.
Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to his own predicament.
Thus far, Malfoy had seemingly done nothing in his bid to gain some foolish glory for his master, not outwardly, at least.
Harry had been watching the blond and Nott closely, and though they could often be seen together on the map, nothing else had been amiss. Still, he kept his wits about him and knew he needed to intervene soon.
He would do so as a priority when they returned to Hogwarts. Harry wanted to help Isabella, if he could, and his best bet would be when her brother would have no need to return home until the end of the school year.
Perhaps it was against his better judgement, but Theo could not be suspected of neglecting his task, for now.
Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly as he cast a few cleansing charms on himself and took his leave of the room. He'd already fed the basilisk for the final time before he would be leaving in the morning with the rest of the students, and had already completed his shopping for the holidays, much to his relief.
When he left, he would have no need to visit Diagon Alley so he could continue avoiding the press and any other who was still determined to garner his attention.
If he was fortunate, it would be a peaceful Christmas, though there was always the lingering threat of something happening to intrude upon that.
(Break)
She hadn't gotten round to apologising.
Almost a fortnight had passed after Daphne had been rather short with Harry that they had spoken next, and he seemed to have forgotten about it altogether.
Daphne hadn't.
Whenever he would come to her and Tracey during the Defence Club to help, she remembered how rude she had been. Even when she'd asked him to resume their private tutoring, he had simply agreed to it.
Harry hadn't mentioned it, but even now, things weren't the same as they had been before the summer break, not since she'd seen the article. They didn't trade playful barbs, nor did they discuss anything other than what he was teaching her.
He couldn't have missed the change in the dynamic, could he? Did he just not care about it?
Whenever he was noticeably absent from the castle, Daphne found herself wondering if it was because he was visiting the French girl; the very thought souring her mood.
Tracey didn't miss that, and it didn't help that the girl took no small amount of joy in teasing the already sullen Daphne.
Still, she felt guilty for how she had snapped at Harry. He hadn't deserved it.
"How's it going?" the very boy she was pondering asked Tracey as he approached.
Daphne watched as he corrected her stance, taking her friend by the wrist and guiding her through the wand movements of a particularly nasty searing curse. She frowned as Tracey blushed and had the audacity to offer her a grin.
Harry seemed oblivious to this as he instructed her to attempt the spell, praising her efforts when she was successful.
"Thanks," Tracey beamed, her cheeks still a little red.
Harry nodded and turned towards Daphne expectantly.
She cast the spell without his help and he nodded once more before stepping by her, only to pause as, much to her own surprise, Daphne took him by the arm.
"Would you have time to help me with something after?"
"Of course," he replied with an easy smile.
Daphne released him and ignored the questioning look Tracey aimed towards her.
"What was that about?"
Daphne didn't have an answer for her as she wracked her brains for something Harry could help her with. She could think of nothing but didn't like that he was just going to leave without saying a word to her.
Where had that come from?
Daphne shook her head and continued with the session, trading spells with Tracey and ignoring the smirk the girl wore. It only served to irritate the blonde.
When the session did come to an end and Harry bade them farewell, wishing them a safe and happy holiday, Daphne waited for Harry to come to her, and he when he did, it was with his usual, guarded smile in place.
"Go away, Tracey," Daphne pleaded.
"Oh, it's like that, is it," Tracey murmured amusedly. "I know when I'm a third wheel. Are you going to kiss him?"
Daphne felt her own cheeks redden slightly as she pushed the giggling girl away.
Tracey offered her a wave, and Daphne got the sudden urge to curse her.
"What do you need help with?" Harry asked as he reached her, frowning at the retreating, laughing Tracey.
"I was wondering if we'd start working on the patronus after Christmas?"
His frown deepened and he looked as though he wished to say something but evidently changed his mind.
"We can," he agreed. "It might take some time, but if we dedicate a few minutes of it during each session, if you want to continue with them."
"I do!" Daphne said a little eagerly.
Harry offered her another smile as he nodded and reached into his robes.
"Whilst you're here and no one is around, I might as well give you this now instead of having to send it."
"Give me what?"
He removed an elegantly wrapped package and handed it to her.
"Merry Christmas, Greengrass."
Daphne swallowed deeply as she stared at it, the guilt that had gnawed at her for her abruptness at the beginning of the year surfacing once more.
"You shouldn't have gotten me anything," she murmured.
"I can always take it back," he quipped, reaching for the present only for Daphne to pull it towards her chest protectively. "I thought not."
Daphne scowled at him playfully.
"Thank you, Harry."
"You're welcome," he replied with a more relaxed smile. "Have a good Christmas, Daphne."
With that, he was gone before she could offer an apology and Daphne could only stare at the gift he'd given her. Not wanting to wait until Christmas Day, she carefully opened it and removed the accompanying note he had written.
Your wand should always be within reach. This will ensure you're never without it. It's enchanted to bond with your wand, so whenever you are not using it, it will be in here.
P.S. I thought the basilisk skin was apt for a Slytherin like you.
H x
Basilisk skin?
Removing the tissue paper, Daphne was greeted by the sight of a wand holster made from a thick skin compromised of many shades of green. Basilisk skin was an exceedingly expensive commodity in itself but making a holster from such a complex material was another matter entirely.
It must have cost a small fortune.
The guilt she felt only worsened and Daphne knew she would need to come up with something good to even come close to this and everything else Harry had done for her.
No, he truly had not deserved how she had treated, and she didn't feel worthy of the gift he'd bestowed upon her.
With a sad smile, she looked towards the castle.
Even if Harry was dating the French girl, that didn't mean Daphne had any right to be as unpleasant as she had been, not when he had been nothing but kind and thoughtful towards her.
(Break)
Sirius waited impatiently for the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to end, his eyes drifting towards the clock sporadically. It was only a few days until Christmas, and with this being the first he would spend with Harry, he was keen to see that all went well.
Somehow, between running the country and cleaning up the mess left behind by Fudge and his establishment, he'd managed to complete his shopping, with considerable help from the ever-reluctant Kreacher.
Now, he just needed to stop the drunken Fletcher from spouting his drivel, get through one last day of work, and then he would finally be granted a few days of respite, so long as nothing occurred that required his immediate attention.
"Severus?" Albus prompted.
Sirius fought the grimace that threatened to form at the sight of the man, still unable to trust Snape as far as he could throw him, despite Albus's faith in him.
"With the change in power, the Dark Lord remains cautious," the sallow man informed them for the dozenth time in as many weeks. "He is undoubtedly planning and is often away for days at a time. There is, however, something I have learned from Nott. The giants are unable to be moved. It is unclear what has happened, but most have fallen unwell in recent weeks. I have not been asked to look into it thus far, but I expect that will change when there is use for them."
Sirius gaze drifted to his grinning godson.
"Harry?" Dumbledore pressed.
"I've been poisoning their water supply," the boy explained. "I didn't it had worked. Have any of them died?"
"No," Snape said with a frown. "What have you been using?"
"Aconite."
Severus's eyes widened as he nodded and the gathered members began murmuring amongst themselves.
"I expect it would take considerable quantities of it to affect them adversely," he mused aloud, "but it is undoubtedly working. I do not expect it will kill them, however."
"Shame," Harry muttered.
"Weakening them is a smart move, especially if it remains undetected."
Harry nodded.
"If they're sick, they can't do much," he said with a shrug. "Even if they try, they'll be easier to stop."
Sirius nodded.
He had designated a team of aurors to be an emergency response to any possible giant attack, and also had the Obliviators at the ready, though if the creatures were already weakened, perhaps a more proactive approach could be taken.
A discussion with Harry would be best on that front. He knew of their location and was in the best position to make such a decision.
He would raise it when they were alone over the holidays.
Albus nodded thoughtfully, evidently pondering the very same potential advantage.
"Sirius, do you have anything else to add?"
"Not until I am certain of a few things," he answered. "I am collaborating with several departments on many things to help with the war effort, but progress is slow. Most have been neglected over the years and it will take time to recruit the needed manpower and implement anything of use. I am working on it and Amos has been an invaluable asset."
Diggory offered an appreciative nod.
"And my Ced will make a fine auror," he declared.
Cedric tutted as he shook his head.
He'd immediately enrolled into training and had been assigned to work with Tonks, a most fortunate pairing for the young man. He would learn much from the metamorph.
"Excellent" Dumbledore declared tiredly. "Then, if there is nothing else pressing, we shall call it a night. As ever, thank you all for coming."
Sirius breathed a sigh of relief as the kitchen emptied, and he was once more left alone with his thoughts, save for the presence of his godson.
"Are you ready for Christmas?" he asked.
Harry nodded.
"I've already finished shopping and sent my presents. I'll be visiting a few people over the holidays but will be here until the day after Boxing Day," he explained. "You'll be back in the office by then."
Sirius's nostrils flared irritably.
"You know, I think I took my life for granted before being the Minister," he sighed.
"Well, you can retire when the war is done and continue being a lazy shit," Harry assured him.
Sirius unleashed a bark of laughter as he nodded eagerly.
"That sounds like a good plan to me."
"But you will have to find a suitable replacement," Harry pointed out. "The great Minister Black's shoes will be hard to fill."
Sirius frowned.
"Bloody hell, they won't let me leave, will they?"
"Probably not," Harry replied with a grin. "You're still young, well, almost young. You've got decades of work in you yet."
"Decades?"
"Your mother will be so proud," Harry snorted. "See you tomorrow," he added with a wave.
"Decades?" Sirius repeated when he was alone.
Surely he would not be expected to remain as minister when the war was over, though he could not shift the feeling of dread that had gripped him. He'd never wanted to be Minister in the first place, and yet, it appeared he could find himself stuck in the position.
"Typical," he huffed.
As much as he dreaded the thought of such a long service, he was certainly flattered by the faith that was being shown in him, even if he could not help but lament the fact that it seemed he would somehow live a life being imprisoned by the Ministry of Magic.
(Break)
Barty checked his watch and began counting down from ten minutes exactly, excited as he waited for his target to appear. The man had proven to be a creature of habit, even if it had taken him weeks to establish his routine. Tonight, however, he would prove his worth to the Dark Lord once more, bringing him something of worth.
Ever since Black had become Minister, the comings and goings of the Ministry had been out of reach. Lucius had fallen from grace, as had Nott and any other who had been in a position to provide useful information. As such, the Dark Lord had been blind, though that would soon change.
Sirius Black had proven impossible to get to, much to his chagrin, but Barty had not given up. There were others and having a father who had once been the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had afforded him certain knowledge that he had been putting to use.
"Who's there?" he asked, turning his wand to where he felt the sudden presence.
He froze beneath his cloak, poised to defend himself despite being hidden.
It was the same thing that had plagued him throughout the many months spent in the Department of Mysteries, the eerily similar chill of the dementors that seemed to follow wherever he went.
For the most part, Barty was able to ignore it, but when it felt as though something was breathing down his neck, he no longer could.
He hated the feeling of vulnerability and he breathed a sigh of relief as it faded, only for him to freeze in terror as he turned back to where he expected the man to arrive imminently.
In front of him stood a large, cloaked figure, much larger than any human form.
For a moment, he thought it to be a dementor but it did not float, and the cold that permeated around it was much more oppressive. It too did not move and simply stared at him with unseen eyes from beneath its' hood.
What was it?
So utterly frozen, Barty did not notice his target arrive at first, but in the next moment, the figure was gone and was replaced by the crop of hair he'd been waiting to appear.
Springing into action from beneath his cloak, he breathed a sigh of relief once the man was stunned. Nevertheless, he chanced another glance, pausing once again as the cloaked figure appeared a short distance away, pointing at him with a skeletal hand.
"Shit!" Barty cursed as it advanced towards him, and he hurriedly activated his portkey to escape whatever it was stalking the alleyway, the sense of unfettered terror following him all the way back to where his master waited for him.
(Break)
The atmosphere around the dinner table was awkward, and Harry watched the overly polite back and forth between Sirius and his cousin Andromeda interestedly.
It had begun the moment the woman had walked through the front door. At the sound of her voice, the portrait of Walburga Black had erupted in a tirade of expletives aimed at the wayward Black, which was returned rather venomously, much to the surprise of Ted and their daughter.
Andromeda, according to Sirius, had been the calmest of the siblings. Bellatrix had always been hot-headed, and Narcissa was quick with a caustic barb on her tongue.
The middle sister had always been the most affable, though Harry had his doubts having seen the infamous Black temper flare so readily, though he could not deny it had been amusing.
He was glad the ire of Walburga was not aimed at him for a change.
"I was surprised to hear you'd been made Minister," Andromeda commented after several moments of awkward silence. "I'm surprised you lived to see thirty."
"I could say the same about you," Sirius returned with a shrug. "If it wasn't for the war, the old bastard would have killed you both."
"He wouldn't have found us."
"He knew where you were," Sirius snorted. "He didn't want to bring anymore unwanted attention to the family. Cissy was marrying Lucius, and Bellatrix, Lestrange. All of them were already supporting Voldemort, well, not Cissy."
Andromeda frowned at the mention of her sisters.
"Is Bellatrix dead?" she asked bluntly.
"She might as well be," Sirius sighed.
Andromeda's frown deepened.
"Cissy should never have married Malfoy."
"I'll kill that bastard when I get the chance," Sirius vowed, stabbing his knife into his chicken violently.
"Or I will," Harry replied.
Sirius nodded.
"Or you will," he agreed.
Andromeda looked between the two of them questioningly.
"He's not much like James, is he?"
Sirius shook his head.
"He has his moments," he said with a grin, "but no. Harry isn't like either of them really."
"I am here, you git."
"Oh, I thought you'd never arrived," Sirius returned sarcastically, clutching his chest. "Would you like a red carpet to walk down?"
"Would you like a slap?"
Sirius grinned, enjoying the playful jabs they were taking at one another.
"He wouldn't mind as long as you didn't punch him again," Tonks broke in.
"You punched him?" Ted asked.
"Straight in the gob," Tonks answered. "Sirius dropped like a sack of spuds."
She mimicked the punch, laughing at the scowl she elicited from her cousin.
"He caught me off guard!" Sirius defended.
Tonks hummed and Harry busied himself with his meal. Punching Sirius was far from his proudest moment, and he decided to let the man field the questions being asked by Ted and Andromeda.
He chose to focus on the morning he'd shared with his godfather.
Sirius had gone all-out in his preparations. Harry had woken to the smell of bacon and the sound of the man swearing as the hot grease spat at him from the pan.
From there, they had eaten before Sirius impatiently suggested they opened their presents.
It had been as though his godfather was the child as he tore through his pile in a matter of moments, pouting when he'd finished. Harry had to remind himself that this was the Minister of Magic and were it not for all the good Sirius was accomplishing, he'd think him to be a poor candidate for the position.
Amongst his own haul of gifts had been some he hadn't expected.
Sirius had of course bought Harry everything he'd thought he could ever need from potions ingredients to underwear. The man had evidently panicked, much to Harry's amusement.
He would be visiting the Flamels in the coming days where they would share gifts, and the Delacours had already sent theirs to them in anticipation of him being there over the holidays.
Gabrielle had sent him her own; one of two journals she had enchanted so they need not send Hedwig or her own owl, Eros, from the regular, taxing trips.
He'd already penned the Veela a note of appreciation for the present with the sentiment she had enjoyed his own; a set of rare books on enchanting he'd come across.
The package he'd received from Daphne had been the most surprising, however. Ever since they'd returned from the summer, she'd been somewhat cold towards him at times, and aloof at best.
He'd still had the wand holster made for her, though Harry had expected nothing in return. The set of tools for rune carving was quite the gift. They were made of the finest silver with obsidian inlays and came in a wrap of leather he suspected was dragon skin of some variety.
It would certainly prove to be most useful in his ongoing studies, despite having finished his NEWT in the subject.
Receiving it with the short note had come as a surprise, even if it did confuse him somewhat.
"Who the bloody hell can that be?" Sirius huffed, pulling Harry from his thoughts.
He frowned as Sirius flicked his wand at the fireplace and the head of a concerned Amos Diggory appeared in the green flames.
"You have my apologies for intruding, Sirius," the man offered. "I wouldn't do so unless I felt it was most important."
"What is it, Amos?"
Sirius had cultivated a close working relationship with him. Amos Diggory was well-connected, intelligent, and knew the workings of the Ministry well.
"Rufus," he sighed. "He was supposed to join us last night and stay with us for a few days over the holidays. When he didn't come, I thought that he would perhaps arrive this morning."
"And he didn't," Sirius murmured.
Amos nodded.
"He's not been seen since he left the office two nights ago. He wished the guard working the desk a Merry Christmas, and that was the last known sighting."
"I don't suppose this is like him?"
Amos shook his head worriedly.
"Rufus would have sent a message by now. Sometimes time can get away from him, but not the best part of two days."
"Bugger," Sirius cursed. "Have you tried his home?"
"The floo remains locked and Cedric has just returned from checking in person. He has no other family nor friends he would be with, not without informing me of a change of plans."
Sirius nodded his understanding.
"Then someone must have gotten to him," he deduced, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Get a message to Dumbledore. I will see what else can be done."
Amos nodded and his faced vanished from the fireplace.
"Shit," Sirius grumbled.
"How bad is it?" Harry asked.
"He's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Sirius reminded him.
"Is there anything we can do?" Andromeda offered.
Sirius shook his head.
"I don't think so. I need to…"
He paused as Harry stood and turned away from the table, murmuring under his breath.
"Wherever he is, he's alive," he declared.
"How can you possibly know that?" Andromeda questioned.
Harry said nothing as he pondered the predicament. If Scrimgeour was dead, he'd have been able to summon him via the stone.
"Do you have anything he has touched, either of you?"
Sirius shook his head but Tonks removed a piece of parchment from the pocket of her jeans.
"He gave this to me a few days ago," she explained. "It's the Christmas rota for the aurors."
Harry accepted it and closed his eyes, feeling for any trace of magic that didn't belong to the metamorph. Fortunately, Scrimgeour had created the schedule himself, so there was enough for him to become familiar with.
Nodding to himself, he summoned Mallory, the enormous, smoky Thestral taking up a considerable amount of room in the kitchen area. She looked at him expectantly and Harry held out his hand, drawing some of the magic from the parchment as he murmured under his breath.
"Find him for me, girl," he whispered as the Thestral craned her neck to sniff it.
She nodded before vanishing in a cloud of smoke and Harry retook his seat, tracing a few symbols in the air with the magic he'd extracted.
"What is he doing?" Tonks asked curiously.
Harry gave no answer as he worked for a few moments, and those gathered at the table shuddered, the cloaked figure that formed in the centre bringing an unpleasant coldness.
They stared at one another silently before Harry banished it and released a deep sigh, unaware of the strange looks he was receiving.
"What was that?" Andromeda asked.
Harry frowned as he waited, and Mallory returned only a few moments later, the news she brought being most unfavourable.
"Thank you, girl," he said gratefully before she disappeared within his chest, much to the surprise and confusion of the others. "Voldemort has him," he explained. "Scrimgeour is alive but won't be for long. His magic is fading and we can't get to him."
"How do you know that?" Tonks pressed,
"Because I know where Voldemort is. Scrimgeour's magic is present there, but there's no way in. He's taken significant steps to ensure they won't be disturbed."
"So, there's nothing we can do?" Sirius huffed frustratedly.
Harry shook his head.
"Scrimgeour was either lax or was outsmarted. Either way, he will not live to see tomorrow. How much does he know?"
Sirius frowned.
"That depends," he replied thoughtfully.
"On?"
"Whether or not he was obliviated before he left the Ministry. It is something I implemented when I first took office to ensure information could not be taken by force."
"Would he have?"
Sirius frowned.
"I'll have to check with Douglas. He's the Obliviator tasked with doing so."
(Break)
"CRUCIO!" the Dark Lord spat for the dozenth time and Barty remained silent as his master attempted to extract anything of use from Rufus Scrimgeour.
It was odd to witness.
Rufus had been a regular guest at the Crouch home when Barty had been but a boy, and now, here he was, screaming his lungs raw from being subjected to the most vicious of treatment.
"Tell me, Scrimgeour!" the Dark Lord hissed. "Tell me what it is I wish to know."
Having weakened the man significantly, Lord Voldemort had attempted to invade the man's mind, only to withdraw quickly in a frightful rage, unable to find anything of use to him.
Obliviation.
Rufus had been obliviated of anything of worth.
Barty frowned as the man spat a mouthful of blood at the Dark Lord's feet, baring his teeth defiantly.
"I can't tell you what I don't know," he chuckled humourlessly. "Do you think we hadn't prepared for this eventuality. You'll get nothing from me, you bastard!"
He laughed hysterically; his mind addled by the torture he'd endured, though it was clear the man felt a sense of triumph, despite the helplessness of his situation.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
It had only been a matter of time before the Dark Lord lost his temper, and Barty would not help but think Scrimgeour had gotten off lightly in comparison to others he'd seen in the same position.
The man slumped forward in the chair he was bound to, lifeless, his body broken, yet taking any secrets he'd held to the grave.
"What next, My Lord?" Barty questioned.
The Dark Lord remained silent for a moment as he contemplated his options and nodded resolutely.
"We proceed, Barty. We destroy all of those that would stand in our way. The time for caution is at an end. We must forge a new path to victory, one we have trodden once before. We bring them fear, my friend. Nothing but fear. Send for the others. We begin immediately."