The Birthday
"It feels like forever that I last saw you," Gabrielle said with a smile as she picked at the grass they were sitting on. "It's been almost a year when, well, you know."
"You're not still embarrassed about that, are you?"
She nodded.
"I always will be, but I have better control over myself. I've been getting help from another Veela Healer. She's been great."
"So, you're feeling better?"
Gabrielle shrugged.
"I have good days and bad days still, but the bad ones come less often."
"You look well," Harry said sincerely.
"I'm just glad I'm not a wreck around you anymore. It must have been awful to be around me."
Harry shook his head.
"Not at all," he denied. "You went through a traumatic experience at a difficult time. It's understandable that you've been dealing with things you'd rather do without."
Gabrielle nodded.
"Thank you for being so good to me," she said gratefully. "Honestly, your letters have helped me more than you know."
"You're welcome," Harry returned with a smile. "I'm just sorry I haven't been around much recently. Between teaching and the war, I've not had much free time."
"You don't have to apologise to me, Harry. You made time to write to me a few times a week. I couldn't ask for anything more. So, how are things?"
"Honestly, not so good," Harry sighed. "He has giants, werewolves, and some very strange things he created using Necromancy and the Death Eaters from Azkaban. I have a few more scars to add to the collection from them and another near-death experience."
Gabrielle offered him a look of sympathy.
"Is it any closer to being over?"
"Closer than I expected it to be, but there's still a way to go yet. "I expect it will only get worse before it gets better."
She took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
"I'm so proud of you. I can't think of anyone else who could cope with all of it as well as you do."
"What choice do I have?"
"You could run," Gabrielle pointed out. "You're good enough to hide for as long as you wanted to, but that's just not who you are. A lesser man would, but not you."
"Oh, you're going to make me blush."
Gabrielle quirked an eyebrow at him.
"That sarcasm will only get you into trouble, Harry," she warned.
"I suppose I'm in enough of it already."
"I meant with me," Gabrielle said amusedly. "Just because I owe you a life debt, that doesn't mean you get a free ride, and if you make an inappropriate comment, you might find me more than willing to take you up on it."
"Touché," Harry chuckled. "You know me too well," he added with a frown.
"Even in your letters, I know when you're being too clever for your own good."
"I should stop writing to you."
"Then I will come and find you and make you write the letters."
"Bloody hell, that's all I need," Harry snorted. "A Veela in a mood."
"We do have many of them, depending on the circumstances. It's in your best interest to keep me in a good one."
"And how do I manage that?"
"You do well enough already," Gabrielle assured him. "So, have you been dating anyone?"
"You really want to get so personal?"
Gabrielle nodded.
"Then I'm sorry to disappoint you, but no. I'm still my same boring self."
"I don't think I've ever met anyone less boring."
"I am when I'm alone," Harry replied. "I like boring. It means that I'm not in danger."
"You like peace, Harry," Gabrielle corrected. "If anyone has earned it, it's you."
"Peace," Harry mused aloud. "You'll have to explain that one to me."
"You'll get there, Harry," she promised. "I know you will."
(Break)
It was undeniably a dull undertaking he'd been tasked with, but Barty was pleased for it. Being out of Britain was most welcome, and this particular request of the Dark Lord entailed little danger.
Even now, he could feel the lingering, cold magic he'd experienced upon seeing the cloaked figure.
It was something he would never forget, nor the threat Potter had made against him.
Since the night he'd watched the boy decimate several werewolves, he'd not laid eyes on him, something Barty was grateful for, though that helped little in aiding his current frustration.
Sirius Black had the British Ministry locked up impossibly tight to outsiders, and any information worth obtaining was simply unobtainable.
France, however, was another matter entirely. They would not involve themselves in the affairs of Britain, and with no indication the Dark Lord had any interest in the country, their own security remained unchanged.
Being the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation as his father had been for several years was proving fruitful for Barty, though the only reference to Potter he could find within the archives pertaining to an award the boy was given for saving the Delacour girls during the second task of the tournament.
No other trace had been found, much to his chagrin.
Nonetheless, there were other avenues to explore, ones that would be freer of twist and turns for Barty to navigate.
The most obvious was to investigate estate agents.
If Potter did indeed own property in France, records for such purposes would exist, and if they did, Barty would find them.
Nonetheless, it would not be easy.
From what he'd ascertained in a little less than a week, there were dozens upon dozens of potential businesses Potter had used, and there were no guarantees that he'd even hidden the Notts here.
Still, Barty would be remiss in his duties and loyalty to the Dark Lord if he did not endure the tedious process of visiting them, beginning, of course, with the magical businesses dotted around the country as clandestinely as possible.
He certainly did not wish for Potter to get wind of what he was up to.
If the Notts were indeed here, they would not be able to remain undetected.
"Can I help you, Sir?" the pudgy Frenchman asked as he entered the first establishment on his list.
Barty smiled.
His father had been an expert in languages, magical and muggle alike, and Barty had picked up more than a few himself throughout his younger years.
"You most certainly can. Imperio!"
(Break)
To the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know it was I who discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B
"R.A.B," Albus murmured once he had finished reading the contents of the note.
The locket had been hidden well.
Were it not for the now elderly Martha, a former worker of Wool's Orphanage, and the reluctant revelations of both Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, the cave may never have been found.
What Tom did to those children was unspeakably cruel, and both suffered to this day from the treatment they had endured at the hands of the boy. Even at such a young age, something had been exceedingly wrong with Tom.
His ability to harm others purely by his own will was concerning to say the least, and to Albus, it was no surprise he had gone on to become what he was now.
It only increased the guilt he felt for not stopping him sooner, for not acting on the instinct he'd felt so many years prior to not allow the boy to attend Hogwarts in the first place.
Still, it was too late now, even if his hope that Tom would change his ways when he arrived at the school had indeed been foolish.
"R.A.B," he repeated with a frown.
Of course, finding the cave had only been the beginning of the trials he was to face. As ever, Tom's price of entry was as crude as one would expect from the Dark Lord, but the plethora of inferi…
Albus would not forget the smell of burning, rotten flesh. The moment he'd liberated the locket from within the pedestal, they swarmed him.
Fire.
His beard was singed, but none of the desecrated corpses remained, and he'd obtained the locket, albeit a replica of the genuine article.
The potion had been the most difficult obstacle to navigate in pursuit of what he'd believed to be a Horcrux. Tom had truly shown his talent by making it almost impossible to bypass.
He had, however, not accounted for something so simple, yet so far out of his trail of thoughts whilst creating the sanctuary to house a piece of his soul.
Friends.
He'd designed the boat to carry only one capable wizard, with the expectation they would see no other way to retrieve the locket other than to consume the unpleasant brew.
Although he'd been at a loss as to how he would proceed without assistance, as ever, it was Fawkes who arrived to come to his aide.
An argument had broken out, which Albus eventually won, and Fawkes watched over him as he drank, helping after helping, battling with his innermost demons as he did so.
Were it not for the phoenix, Albus was not certain he would have made it out of the cave at all.
Fawkes had proven once more just how valuable a friend he was.
He'd fended off the inferi whilst Albus had recovered well enough to defend himself, and now, he found himself aboard the little boat once more, finally taking his leave of this forsaken place.
Nonetheless, he felt weakened by his experience, and yet, there was somewhere else he needed to be. If his suspicions were correct, it was quite possible that one of Tom's Horcruxes had been mere feet away from them for the best part of two years.
Releasing a deep breath, he popped the cork on a Pepper-up Potion and downed the contents, the taste proving to be much more pleasant than the last brew he'd drunk.
"R.A.B," he murmured a final time, his mind wondering to just how it became that Regulus Black had turned on the Dark Lord.
(Break)
What had been little more than another dull day in the office seemed to be taking a rather sinister turn for Sirius, and potentially many others. He'd been through in his checks of every employee of the Ministry to ensure there were no ties to the Dark Lord, and those that did, even loosely, were being monitored closely.
The Auror he was due to meet momentarily had none, so discovering him snooping in files he had no business viewing had come as quite the surprise.
"Come in," Sirius called, doing his utmost to remain calm.
A distraught Auror Wilks was led into the office by two of what would likely be his former colleagues, both looking at the man with utter disdain.
"Please, Minister…"
Sirius held up a hand to silence the man.
"You may leave," he instructed the guards before shifting his gaze towards Wilks. "You know the consequences of the charges that will be brought against you. Aiding and Abetting a known criminal, attempting to overthrow the British Ministry of Magic, among a slew of others. You will spend whatever remaining days you have behind bars. Now, explain yourself, Wilks!"
"It is not what you think, Minister!" the man protested. "They…"
He broke off and hung his head defeatedly.
"They what?" Sirius pressed.
"They have my wife and daughter, Minister," Wilks choked. "They took them, and they're keeping them prisoner until I give them what they want."
"Who?" Sirius demanded.
"The Malfoys."
Sirius's eyes widened.
"Lucius?"
"And his wife," Wilks confirmed. "She was there too. She t-tortured me, Minister."
"Narcissa?"
Wilks nodded and Sirius leaned back in his chair.
Although a Black, Narcissa had never been one for cruelty, not like Bellatrix. Even Andromeda was more hot-headed than the youngest of the three siblings.
Still, it had been many years since Sirius had spoken to her, and he doubted that being married to Lucius had done much good for the woman.
"What is it they want?"
"The location of the prison their son is being kept in."
Sirius snorted humourlessly.
"That's what you were looking for."
"Yes."
Sirius released a deep breath.
"I understand, Wilks," he murmured. "I do not have a wife or children, but there is not a thing I wouldn't do for my godson. Maybe we can use this to our advantage, but it could be risky. For now, you will leave it with me and go about your business."
"My family?"
"I will do what I can for them," Sirius promised. "I will not keep you waiting longer than necessary. GUARDS!"
The door opened and the two Aurors who had escorted Wilks in entered the office once more.
"You know the rules," Sirius said apologetically as he drew his wand.
Both Aurors nodded and waited for the inevitable.
"Obliviate!"
He repeated the process on the other and sent them on their way, their memories bereft of anything pertaining to the transgressions of Auror Wilks.
"And me, Minister?"
Sirius shook his head.
"Not yet," he murmured. "Once I have decided on a course of action, we will address it then. Not a word, Wilks, and you are not to meet with them without informing me."
"Yes, Minister, and thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Sirius grumbled. "Go on, get back on duty."
With that, Wilks did as he was bid, and Sirius sank into his chair once more, pondering this development.
Lucius was close to the very top of the list of those he wished to either apprehend or see killed. He was an asset to the Dark Lord that was best removed.
If they intended on breaking Draco out of prison, perhaps it would be best to allow them to try.
Sirius could arrange a trap to capture the man, but that relied on Lucius going to the prison himself to retrieve Draco.
The question to consider was whether or not he would trust any other to do so on his behalf.
It was difficult to say, and Aurors Wilks' family would be left in a rather precarious position.
No, it was something he would indeed need to consider further before making a decision.
"Sirius?"
He turned towards the fireplace, where he found himself greeted by the sight of a tired Albus Dumbledore.
"What's wrong?" Sirius asked with a frown.
"I think this is something we'd best discuss in person if I am not imposing."
His words were ominous and the Minister of Magic nodded, wondering just how much stranger this day could possibly get.
(Break)
He found himself on one knee and breathing heavily as he stared at Gawain and Godric, both men looking at him proudly. Again, they had put him through his paces, pushing him until he could no longer raise the sword to defend himself.
"Excellent work, Harry," Godric praised. "Your progress is exceptional."
"It's not enough," Harry wheezed.
"It will be," Gawain assured him. "Come, you should rest."
Harry nodded as he stood and drained his bottle of water.
"What do you intend on doing with the rest of your birthday?" Gawain asked.
Harry shrugged.
"I thought we should train some more."
"You have already done six hours," the man chastised. "You should not forget to enjoy the moments that come, Harry."
"He is right," Godric supported. "We are at your disposal, but we will not shy away from telling you our thoughts. Enjoy what is left of today."
"Are you gaining up on me?" Harry questioned amusedly.
"If necessary."
Harry shook his head.
Both men were rather set in their ways, and their opinions often clashed when it came to the best way to train Harry, but both were excellent instructors in both magic and swordsmanship.
"Fine," he agreed with a chuckle. "I could use a shower anyway. I must smell terrible."
"Well, we didn't wish to say as much…"
Harry glared at the Hogwarts founder.
"Can you even smell anything?"
"No," Godric answered with a grin.
"Honestly, I bet the world would love to know exactly what you're really like."
"I am Godric Gryffindor," the man proclaimed, standing proudly. "My reputation is deserved."
Even Gawain shook his head.
"You chose his house?" he snorted.
Harry laughed as he allowed the men to return to whence they came.
The banter between them was good-natured for the most part, but both had a vicious tongue when provoked, and they had quite the talent for irking one another.
Taking his leave of the basement, he did follow through with his idea of showering and dressed before entering the kitchen, ignoring the stack of letters that had arrived throughout the day.
He'd opened only a few, under the impression that they were merely well wishes for his birthday, but Daphne had been proven right.
The first had arrived even before he was awake from Lord Abbott, enquiring about Harry's plans for marriage now that he had come of age.
Six others had arrived since, and Harry simply could not bring himself to open those scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting.
He turned away from the pile. He had enough to concern himself with without this additional responsibility. Already, Gringotts had informed him of his access to the Potter vaults and, much to his relief, a confirmation that he was not beholden to any contacts that had been filed with them.
Not that he'd expected to be, not unless his parents had felt the need for drastic action to secure the future of the family by seeing Harry married to someone of their choosing as soon as possible.
He shook his head.
It served only to remind him of his own conundrum, and he did not wish to think of that right now, not when he had a half dozen potential offers of marriage to deal with and everything else in his life that would not likely be resolved soon.
Usually, whenever his fireplace alerted him to a caller, Harry's heart would sink knowing that something unpleasant was occurring. Now, however, he welcomed it simply for the distraction.
"What's happened?" he asked as Dumbledore's head appeared in the fireplace.
"Nothing so urgent, but I was hoping you would join me at Grimmauld Place. There has been a rather surprising development."
"I'll come through," Harry consented, wondering what could have left the headmaster so seemingly taken aback.
When he arrived in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, it was to find a pale Sirius staring at a slip of parchment and an unusually emotional Kreacher lurking in the corner, trembling quite pathetically.
"Read it," his godfather urged, offering the parchment to Harry.
He frowned as he did so, looking towards Dumbledore questioningly when he was done.
"R.A.B?"
"Regulus Arcturus Black," Sirius sighed. "My younger brother."
Harry's eyebrows rose.
"How did he find out about them? Not even Bellatrix knew what she had been given," Harry pointed out.
"Because the Dark Lord needed an elf to assist him with hiding it," Dumbledore answered, nodding towards Kreacher.
"Master Regulus saved Kreacher," the elf murmured. "He made Kreacher promise to guard it and destroy it, but Kreacher couldn't. The Dark Lord came for Master Regulus, and he…"
The elf did not need to finish the sentence.
It took little deduction for Harry to know what had become of Regulus.
"He turned on him," Sirius said sadly. "He didn't want any part of what he'd done."
"Master Regulus was a good man!" Kreacher choked.
Harry felt a stab of sympathy for the usually cantankerous elf.
"Where is it?" he asked curiously.
Dumbledore held and intricate, gold locket aloft, and Harry felt a shiver run down his spine at the sudden influx of vile magic permeating the room.
"That makes five," Harry acknowledged.
Dumbledore nodded.
"I think perhaps there is one other that he would keep close."
"So, I have to kill him and then find it?"
"Severus is under the impression the Dark Lord's companion has been used to house a portion of his soul," Dumbledore sighed. "It is a risk, but should the worst happen, he would still be consciously anchored here through it."
"Bloody hell," Harry grumbled. "So, we have to get the snake first. If he dies, it will be gone before we can get close."
"I fear that is the better option. Sirius?"
"Have you considered submitting one of the Horcruxes to the Department of Mysteries? They may be able to find a way to link them through a tracking charm, or something else crazy they seem to do."
"Can they be trusted?" Harry asked.
"I expect so," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully, "but I would be reluctant to allow them out of my sight. We must remember, Rookwood was an Unspeakable and none suspected him of being a Death Eater."
"I could have a quiet word with Croaker," Sirius offered. "He may be willing to inspect one away from the department."
"Do so," Albus allowed. "Now, what of your problem with the Malfoys?"
"The Malfoys?"
Harry listened as Sirius explained what had occurred with the family of one of his Aurors and the instructions the man had been given.
"He has to tell them," he mused aloud. "Let's not pretend Lucius won't kill them."
Sirius nodded.
"I know, I'm just trying to find a way we can use this," he explained. "I'll figure it out. Besides, it's your birthday. I did write asking you to join me for a late breakfast."
"Sorry," Harry offered. "I received a lot of letters, most of them not welcome."
Sirius frowned before an impish grin formed.
"I should have known," he said gleefully. "How many?"
"Six."
Sirius laughed as he banged the table with the flat of his hand.
"James will be furious, he only got two."
"I could bloody well do without it," Harry huffed.
"Just politely decline them," Sirius suggested. "No one will be offended, given the circumstances."
"I will, but I just can't even look at them at the minute. It makes me feel like a piece of meat the vultures want to pick at."
"That is the world we live in, Harry. Some are undoubtedly looking to improve their standing, but there are those that would have written even if this mess never happened. The name Potter is a desirable one."
"I know," Harry sighed. "It's all just strange for me. I have someone offering to carry my heir, another girl who I just can't work out, and another I'm certain just wants to rip my clothes off and have her way with me."
He hadn't meant to unload so much in one sentence, but his frustration had peaked, and both Sirius and Dumbledore stared at him dumbly.
"Sorry," Harry murmured. "It's been a shit day."
Sirius laughed again as he shook his head, and even Dumbledore's eyes were alight with amusement.
"Alright, from the top. Who has offered to carry your heir?"
"Isabella Nott."
"Nott?"
"I helped her, Theo, and their mother escape."
"And she offered to have your heir?"
"No, it's not like that. I met her a couple of years ago now. We've been friends since. We've written regularly."
"I see," Sirius chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.
"The one you can't work out?"
"Daphne Greengrass."
"Greengrass is neutral, bordering on some of the more traditional ideologies," Sirius mused aloud. "What's the problem with her?"
"I don't know," Harry replied with a shrug. "I've been given her private lessons for over a year, and she's helped me out with a few things. She told me she gets jealous of the attention from other girls I get, and she's flirty."
"She's worried, Harry," Sirius pointed out. "She comes from a neutral family, and as far as the world is concerned, you are the epitome of what the light side represents. I would say she likes you, but she's scared to act on it."
"I figured that out for myself," Harry grumbled.
"The last seems the least complicated."
"Gabrielle," Harry revealed.
"Delacour?" Dumbledore asked, eliciting a nod from Harry.
"So, it is complicated," Sirius muttered. "She is the daughter of a very influential man. You can't just, well, you know, not if it is more than a… carnal thing."
"I don't ever want you to say that to me again," Harry groaned.
Sirius grinned.
"Ah, the joys of youth," Dumbledore said whimsically. "Well, it is not our place to interfere in such things. I'm afraid you are on your own, Harry."
"Thanks," Harry replied dryly.
Sirius took some pity on him and patted the chair to his right.
Harry sat down and Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"Drink?" he offered. "You're old enough now."
"Will it help?"
"Not really."
"I'll have one anyway."
"That's my boy," Sirius praised. "Kreacher, a bottle of Firewhiskey, the good stuff."
The elf vanished with a gentle pop and reappeared a moment later carrying a tray laden with glasses and a bottle of the requested liquor.
Sirius poured them both a generous measure before looking towards Dumbledore questioningly.
"The occasion does call for it," the headmaster declared, accepting a glass for himself. "To you, Harry on this most momentous day."
"To Harry," Sirius echoed.
"And to Regulus Black," Harry added, raising his glass towards Kreacher, who beamed, his eyes welling with pride.
The liquor burned unpleasantly, and Harry coughed in protest.
"That tastes awful," he croaked.
"We don't drink it because it tastes nice, Harry," Sirius snorted. "Another?"
Harry pushed the glass away as he shook his head.
"You're on your own with that."
"Amateur," Sirius jibed. "I just can't believe Regulus. He was always so staunch in his belief that the Dark Lord was the future of Britain. If only my mother could see this…"
The man grinned as he snatched the note from the table and entered the hallway.
"I suppose we should cover our ears," Harry suggested.
Dumbledore nodded.
"DO YOU SEE THIS, YOU OLD COW? EVEN REGULUS REALISED VOLDEMORT WAS A LOON!"
"LIES!" Walburga screeched. "REGULUS WOULD NEVER…"
She fell silent, and Harry frowned, only to wince as the woman unleashed an almighty shriek which drowned out Sirius's laughter.
"That is our Minister of Magic," Harry pointed out. "He's arguing with the portrait of a woman that has been dead for years."
Dumbledore chuckled at the ridiculousness of the situation.
"What's so funny?" Sirius asked as he returned to the kitchen looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"Nothing," Harry said dismissively. "Nothing at all."
The man looked between Harry and Dumbledore before shaking his head and retaking his seat.
"You know, it's strange to think you're seventeen," he sighed. "It doesn't seem so long ago that I was seeing you for the first time. James was so proud, Harry. I've never seen him so proud of anything else."
Harry knew.
He'd seen his father's pride for himself.
Whatever Sirius was going to say next was cut off as the man suddenly stood and an alarm began sounding in the house. Only a split second later, Tonks' patronus arrived.
'Albus, there's an attack in St Albans. The Dark Lord is here!'
"I should have known I'd not get a peaceful day," Harry muttered, drawing his wand and vanishing into the shadows.
Of course, there would be an attack on his birthday, but Voldemort himself leading it was a new development. The man hadn't been seen in months.
(Break)
"I'll head back to the office," Sirius declared, his previous joviality all but absent. "I'll get as many Aurors there as possible and send whatever news comes in."
Albus nodded gratefully as he continued sending his own messages to the various members of the Order of the Phoenix before following Harry with Fawkes' assistance.
It was the familiar cold of Harry's magic that greeted him, though the headmaster frowned as he took in the scene before him.
At best, Tom had brought only a token force with him. There was no sign of any of the werewolves. Even with the lack of a full moon, they were a formidable group of witches and wizards.
There was also no indication that he'd brought the monstrosities he'd created.
There was several Death Eaters engaged with the Aurors that were arriving, and Albus too quickly found himself needing to defend a flurry of spells sent his way by another that targeted him upon his arrival.
And yet, he could not help but think something was amiss.
This attack was not like the other more recent ones, and with Tom leading it, Albus found it odd that he had not solicited the help of more of his followers.
Was this merely a distraction for something bigger happening elsewhere?
The headmaster didn't know, but with his former pupil, it was a distinct possibility.
It was unsettling to say the least, though with a group of determined Death Eaters to contend with, now was not the time to ponder it.
Bringing his wand to bear, Albus tore away a section of the ground between him and his foes to intercept a trio of killing curses and banished the remnants towards them.
With an elaborate gesture, two of the cloaked figures were jerked backwards by an unseen force, continuing until they collided with the building behind them.
They remained unmoving, and the remaining three Death Eaters hesitated, presenting Albus with an opportunity to strike once more. He did so, his powerful gust of wind sweeping up some of the nearby debris, which he whipped up into a vortex, sending it towards those he was duelling.
The Dark Lord's followers scattered and attempted to regroup a short distance away, only to be deterred by the arrival of the Order of the Phoenix who began flooding the street.
In a matter of seconds, St Albans was bereft of the Death Eaters, yet Tom remained, doing battle with Harry.
Not for long, however.
Recognising that he was alone, Lord Voldemort offered a final offensive, avoiding Harry's counter and vanished into the night, making for an unexpected and puzzling experience.
"Why would he leave?" Arthur Weasley questioned.
"I am pondering the very same thing," Albus murmured in response.
What Tom had hoped to achieve here, the headmaster did not know, but seemingly, it had been a waste of his time unless he had indeed staged attacks elsewhere Albus had yet to be made aware of.
Nonetheless, this had still been rather out of character for Tom. He was not one to waste such opportunities for something so trivial.
So, what was he doing here in the first place?
Without further investigation, Albus's thoughts were mere speculation, but he could not deny that he felt rather unsettled by this sudden change in tactics.
(Break)
As Harry took his seat at the table in Grimmauld Place once more, he was perplexed by the altercation he'd just had with the Dark Lord. It was nothing like the time in the graveyard nor at Azkaban.
This evening, Tom Riddle had taken more of a defensive stance and had waited for Harry to attack.
That was not his modus operandi. The man was well known for his capabilities in dark, offensive magic, and had built his reputation to overwhelming those who dared cross wands with him.
"Strange," Dumbledore commented, evidently pondering the very same thing. "What happened upon your arrival, Harry? Did the Death Eaters attack you?"
He shook his head.
"No, they avoided me," he explained. "Tom came for me immediately but didn't fire a spell until I did."
Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully.
"He's testing me," Harry mused aloud in realisation. "He's trying to find weaknesses he can exploit in my attacks."
Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"Your magic is unfamiliar to him," he murmured. "He is hoping to gain an understanding of it, but it is risky to do so. I expect he will attempt to engage you in such a way more regularly."
"Just don't comply," Elphias Doge suggested.
"Then he will attack others until I do," Harry sighed. "It's quite a brilliant strategy, if a little frustrating. Not that he can hope to gain much if I don't let him. I will have to choose what I expose in the hope that he feels he's gaining enough knowledge."
"A dangerous game, Harry," Dumbledore pointed out.
"But one I suppose I will have to play, at least until he is in a position to be killed."
Dumbledore nodded unhappily but did not have an alternative approach to offer.
"In all, it doesn't seem much harm was done," Sturgis offered in consolation.
"Only because the werewolves and giants weren't there," Cedric snorted. "We can't rely on their absence."
"We can't," Harry agreed.
He'd already been considering what to do with the giants, and though he was content on seeing them perish, he did not like the idea of them being at Voldemort's disposal in any capacity.
It could be that what he'd already put in place was discovered, or perhaps prove to be ineffective.
Poisoning them with the aconite had seemed to be a good idea, but it appeared that they'd developed quite immunity to the plant.
"I do not believe we are going to solve anything tonight," Dumbledore said tiredly as he looked towards the clock. "We will meet again tomorrow."
With that, the majority of the members of the Order took their leave of Grimmauld Place, and Dumbledore gestured for Harry to remain behind.
It wasn't until the room was almost empty and Sirius returned during the departure of the others that the headmaster spoke once more.
"I understand congratulations are in order on your NEWT results, Harry."
"I received them yesterday."
Dumbledore offered him a smile.
"Your parents would be so very proud of you, as I'm sure Sirius is."
The man nodded, offering Harry a bright smile.
"I would like to thank you again for agreeing to return to Hogwarts to continue with your teaching, and of course, running the Defence Club. It truly is an invaluable asset."
"Why do I have the feeling you're going to ask me to do something else?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore chuckled.
"It seems you have come to know me well, Harry. I do have something to ask of you, well, two things really."
Harry gestured for the man to continue.
"Firstly, you have proven yourself rather capable of helping those in need, those who wish to remain out of reach to Tom and his followers. There is someone who has come to me in the hope of receiving such help."
Harry frowned.
"I do not have unlimited hidden houses, Professor," Harry pointed out.
"I know, and I would not ask if I did not believe you would be so willing to help them. That is where the second part of the favour I am asking of you comes in. It is their NEWT year, and I was hoping you would consent to help them with their studies. I can assure you, they are capable, so it would be little effort on your part."
"You want them to live with me."
"I would not suggest such a thing, but I expect it would be easier for you and safer for them if that arrangement could be made. I understand it is something of an imposition, but can I rely on you once more, Harry? It needs only be temporary until other arrangements can be made. Of course, this is to be kept a secret. Tom would not hesitate in harming them if he was to learn of their location."
Harry released a deep breath before nodding.
If someone needed protection, he would not deny them that.
His own parents had been in such a position, and though they had considerable resources at their disposal, it had ultimately ended in disaster.
Tom certainly had a way of getting to those he sought, whether that be through hook or crook.
"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore offered sincerely. "As ever, you demonstrate a humanity that is often lacking in our world. If you would be so kind as to make your way into Sirius's study, I expect they will be arriving soon."
Harry did so, wondering why Dumbledore was being so vague with him.
When he entered the room, he found it to be empty, but the fireplace flared into life only a moment later and a figure stepped out, causing Harry's eyes to widen.
"Susan?" he questioned in disbelief.
The girl had not been seen since her aunt had been killed at Azkaban more than a year ago. She had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth, though now that Harry thought about it, it made sense that Dumbledore would know what became of her.
"Hello, Harry," the replied with a smile.