The Coming
He frowned at the small pile of letters before him. Two more had arrived this very morning, and though he did not wish to acknowledge it, Harry knew it was likely more would follow in the coming days.
The last thing he wanted was to be inundated with such things, but he'd learned that this was how the wizarding world functioned, amongst the pureblood at least.
Harry was not foolish enough to believe there would be no interest in him. For many, an association alone would elevate their standing amongst their peers, and a potential future marriage could open many doors.
Perhaps he should be flattered, but he could not bring himself to feel that way.
His parents had not needed a contract, and his grandparents had fallen in love with one another equally.
Was it so much to ask for something akin to what they'd had?
For him, Harry knew that it could well be.
Even if he won the war and were in a position to consider marriage or pursuing a relationship, there would always be doubts as to why someone was interested in him.
Now, he understood why it was the rich and famous tended to mingle with one another and marry someone in a similar position to themselves.
He looked up as the back door opened and Susan entered wearing muggle running gear. Her chest was heaving from the exertion, and she drained whatever remained in her water bottle.
"Better?" Harry asked amusedly.
"I will be once I've showered," she replied. "Don't worry, I changed my appearance."
"It's quiet enough around here," Harry assured her, "and you have your portkey."
Upon arriving from Grimmauld Place the night before, Harry had insisted she keep one with her at all times. They hadn't had much time to talk. The hour had been late, and he'd shown Susan to her room to allow her to get settled in.
"I have," she confirmed, pointing to her sock where she evidently kept it. "Thanks again, Harry, for letting me stay and for helping me with my studies."
"It's not a problem," Harry said dismissively. "Did you sleep well?"
Susan nodded as she took the seat opposite him.
"It's peaceful here."
"Boring?"
"Do you find peace boring?"
"Most people do," Harry chuckled.
"Not me," Susan denied. "After the year I've had, I don't think I'll ever tire of peace."
"You're telling me," Harry snorted. "I am sorry about what happened to your aunt."
"Me too," Susan said with a sad smile. "I always knew her job made it a possibility, but…"
She broke off with a shrug.
"Well, you can stay as long as you like," Harry offered.
"Don't say that, I might never leave," Susan warned jokingly. "I did consider going home, but I can't live there. The house is too big and too empty. Besides, it's probably being watched."
"Probably," Harry agreed. "Only a few people know about this place, and I can change that with just a few spells. You won't be found here."
Susan nodded gratefully.
She had changed a lot in the last year. She had matured in a way that only losing someone close to you brings about. Susan had never been much of a giggly teenager from what Harry had seen of her, but losing Amelia had undoubtedly left its mark on the young woman.
She appeared older now, youthful in looks, but her eyes carried an edge to them.
Harry suspected he was much the same in that regard.
"Anyway, if there is anything you need, you just have to ask. I'll be here for the rest of the summer and then back to Hogwarts in September for a few hours a day. Other than that, I'll be able to help you with your studies. Did you manage to do your OWLs?"
"Lord Abbott arranged for me to be examined at the Ministry."
Harry grimaced at the mention of the man.
"You know him?"
Harry shook his head as he retrieved one of the letters he'd been perusing and slid it over to Susan.
She frowned as she read it and released a deep sigh.
"I shouldn't be surprised," she mused aloud. "Peter is nice enough, but he has his ambitions. Not that I think Hannah would complain if you were to agree to this," she added with a smirk.
"It's not funny," Harry grumbled, gesturing to the still-growing pile of missives he'd received.
"Did you really expect anything less?"
"Did you have this problem?"
Susan shook her head.
"Most seem to think I'm either dead or have left the country."
"Maybe I should fake my death," Harry said thoughtfully.
Susan tutted.
"I don't think that would work, but you should think about addressing them."
"I know," Harry huffed. "I just don't know what to say."
"Are you interested in any of them?"
"Honestly?"
Susan nodded.
"Not at all," Harry sighed. "I don't want to offend anyone, but this whole pureblood agreement thing isn't for me. I'd rather marry someone because I want to, not because I have to."
"Well, if there's anyone who understands your position, it's me," Susan pointed out. "I'm the last of my family too. If I don't marry someone who will agree to give one of my children my family name, the Bones will no longer exist. There will be some who would agree, but that means control of my family wealth and the seat on the Wizengamot will eventually be controlled by another family."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"I need to attend the Wizengamot soon," he grumbled.
"You'll be great," Susan said dismissively. "The rest of them will shit themselves at the thought of getting on the wrong side of you."
"Maybe," Harry replied with a shrug. "What are you going to do about your family?"
"I'm going to live my life, Harry," Susan answered. "If I obsess over it, I'll only get it wrong. If you want my advice, you should do the same. Send a polite letter to each person who has written to you and explain that you're not considering marriage at this time. You'll be free to do whatever you like then."
"Other people have said I should do the same."
"They're not wrong," Susan said as she stood. "I think our parents and my aunt, would prefer we were happy in our lives than trying to continue a legacy that may be too late to save. I'm going to shower, and then I'll help you write a response, if you like?"
Harry nodded gratefully.
"Thanks."
Susan smiled amusedly.
"I won't be long."
She left and Harry finally found he had an appetite.
By the time Susan returned, he'd finished preparing the food and had it laid out on the table.
"A breakfast service?" the woman asked. "I could get used to this."
"It's your turn tomorrow," Harry replied with a grin which was returned.
"I'm not very good at cooking," Susan returned. "Never mind, if we both end up poisoned, it will save anyone else the trouble of killing us."
"There is that," Harry mused aloud. "Then again, if I have to die, I'd rather it be something more fitting for the trouble I seem to find myself in."
"That wouldn't be much of a legacy," Susan agreed. "Harry Potter, Triwizard Champion, killed by poorly cooked breakfast. I don't think that has much of a ring to it."
"It doesn't," Harry chuckled as he helped himself to some eggs and bacon, gesturing for Susan to do the same.
She did so and they ate in companionable silence whilst Susan read through the pile of letters Harry had received from various Lords and Ladies.
"You are popular," she surmised when she was done. "Well, there's none you need to be concerned with offending. I'm surprised Ogden has suggested you get to know his granddaughter."
"Why?"
"Because she's almost thirty-one."
Harry almost choked on his orange juice.
"She'd be closer in age to my father if he was alive."
"Oh, I don't know, Harry. A mature woman could be exactly what you need."
"Maybe I should just offer myself to Griselda Marchbanks then."
Susan shook her head amusedly.
"I don't think you need your ability to be a husband graded."
"That's a T for breakfast, Potter. You'd better shape up," Harry quipped in what was a terrible impression of the woman.
"I'd give you an A," Susan replied.
"Only an A?"
"Well, there's a lack of options, Potter. You had better shape up."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was supposed to provide continental options. I'll make sure I'm up at four to make croissants tomorrow."
"That might just put you up to an E," Susan said dryly.
Harry laughed as he shook his head.
"Sorry, this is the best you can expect from me."
"I suppose it will have to do," Susan sighed, her eyes alight with amusement. "Honestly, this is great. You'll get no complaints from me."
"They would be ignored."
"Ah, a true gentleman."
"So, what do you think I should say to them?" Harry asked, nodding towards the parchment.
"Oh, that's easy enough. Fetch me some parchment and a quill. I'll write a response for you."
(Break)
Sirius watched as the Obliviator finished his work and withdrew from the Auror's mind, nodding to indicate his efforts had been a success. Wilks had presented quite the problem to solve, but one that would now prove to be beneficial if all went to plan.
"You know what to do, Wilks," Sirius reiterated as he handed the man a sheet of documents that had been kept within Grimmauld Place until this morning. "Do not fuck this up."
The Auror nodded gratefully and took his leave of the room leaving Sirius to ponder another predicament until the Malfoys acted on the information they would be provided.
"Thank you, Rawlins, you can go back to your regular duties now."
"Of course, Minister," the Obliviator replied, following in Wilks' footsteps.
It was only a moment later that the fireplace flared into life and Albus stepped out to attend the meeting Sirius had arranged between them, and Croaker of the Department of Mysteries.
"I brought all those that are in my possession," the headmaster informed him grimly.
Sirius nodded.
Horcruxes were indeed an unpleasant business, and something he had little understanding of.
"Do you think it is possible?" he asked.
"I do not know, Sirius," Albus replied uncertainly. "I can think of no other than Tom who has made more than one."
Coming from Dumbledore, it was ominous, and the two waited for Croaker who arrived at the exact time the meeting was scheduled for.
"Albus, it has been some time since we last spoke," the Unspeakable greeted the older man.
"It has, Clarence," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "It pleases me to see you are still working."
"There is a lack of suitable candidates to replace me," the man snorted. "Believe me, retirement is at the top of my list. Now, what is it you require of me?"
Dumbledore removed several objects and placed them on the desk.
"What do you know of these?"
Croaker's frown was deep, and as he picked up the first Horcrux, he nodded appreciatively.
"Helga Huffelpuff's Cup," he identified. "It is a shame that it has been tainted with a piece of someone's soul. Might I assume that it does not belong to the beloved founder?"
"It does not," Dumbledore confirmed.
Croaker grunted as he picked up the next.
"The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, though not so lost now," he said fondly. "Again, tainted with a soul fragment."
"Indeed."
Croaker inspected the diary next, and then the locket, finishing with the ring that had already been destroyed by Harry.
"Troubling," he murmured. "Most troubling indeed. Are there others?"
"One other, we suspect," Albus sighed.
Croaker nodded.
"Well, you're no fool, Albus. I'm sure I do not need to tell you what these are nor how they're made. So, what is it you need help with?"
"These have been created by the same person," Dumbledore explained.
"That is dangerous," Croaker said warningly. "The soul is not an infinite resource, and it contains everything which makes us who we are. Splitting it lke this is unheard of, and the results… I do not understand how the Dark Lord has survived this."
"He never had much humanity to begin," Albus said somewhat sadly. "I'm afraid taking the path he chose has only resulted in him losing it entirely."
Croaker hummed.
"I have come across only one person who made two. The second left his entire soul trapped within. Something went wrong with the ritual, but we could never figure it out. This is unprecedented, and rather astounding," he declared.
"Is it possible there is a magical link between them?" Sirius questioned.
"You would think so, but it is not so simple," Croaker answered. "When a piece of a soul is torn from another, it becomes something of its own existence. It would likely recognise the others should they be put back together, but they would no longer be one single, conforming entity. A removed piece of soul will grow into its own thing with time. So, if the Dark Lord was to die and one of these is used, he would quite possibly be a different man than he is now, though with him, I doubt the changes would be so noticeable."
"I see," Albus mused aloud. "Will he notice if these are destroyed?"
"No," Croaker answered with certainty. "Not immediately, at least. If all were destroyed, then perhaps, but these pieces of soul are very different from the piece that inhabits his body. In fact, I would urge you to destroy them. They can have a rather detrimental, psychological impact on any exposed to them for too long. They can cause people to exhibit certain behaviours that the soul piece covets. I saw it in myself whilst studying them. They are volatile and dangerous objects to keep around. Basilisk Venom is best. I can source some if you need it."
"It's all in hand, Clarence," Dumbledore assured the man. "Is there no way to use these to locate another?"
"I'm afraid not," Croaker said apologetically. "It would be like trying to track you down through Minister Black here. It simply wouldn't work."
Albus nodded his understanding and Croaker replaced his hood.
"Destroy them, gentlemen. Nothing good can come from them remainng as they are."
He left and Sirius and Albus shared a mutual nod.
If Clarence Croaker said something should be destroyed, then it absolutely should be, and without hesitation.
(Break)
It had been Potter's connection to the Delacour family that had led him to this Estate Agent. It was a business of exclusivity, catering to those of note within France. As with all other such places, much of their trade came via recommendation, and this particular company had the distinction of being the go-to for even the Minister of Magic himself.
Freshly groomed and dressed in a tailored suit, he entered the small office and was greeted by a rather beautiful woman.
"Good Morning," Barty offered with a winning smile. "I was hoping to speak with Mr Moreau."
"Do you have an appointment?" the woman asked without looking up at him.
"No, but I am pressed for time. Mr Moreau was recommended to me by a gentleman who purchased an exquisite Chateau south of Bordeaux almost three years ago now," Barty explained pointedly.
The woman looked up and scrutinised him carefully.
"Is that so?"
"It is."
The Minister of Magic of France had indeed purchased such a property. It had been well-reported at the time.
"I will see if Mr Moreau is available," the woman declared, stepping out from behind her desk and disappearing down a nearby corridor.
She returned a few moments later with a short, rotund man in her wake. He could have barely walked a few dozen feet, and he was already sweating around the rolls in his neck.
"I understand you wish to see," Moreau said curiously. "Are you looking to purchase a property?"
"I am," Barty confirmed.
Moreau's piggish eyes widened greedily.
"Then come along, and we shall discuss the matter further," he urged.
Barty followed the man to a small office and took a seat behind his desk.
"Before we proceed, Mr Moreau, I must insist on the utmost privacy."
"Of course," the Frenchman said dismissively. "I pride myself on my discretion. As you are aware, I work on behalf of the most prominent of clientele."
Barty nodded.
"What property is it you are interested in?"
Discreetly, Barty removed his wand and cast a silencing charm before aiming his wand at the man under the desk. Moreau slumped forward as the stunning spell hit him, and Barty made his way to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room.
It was locked, and no spell he attempted would open.
"Damn!" he cursed, shifting his attention back to Moreau and securing him with ropes.
Casting a silencing charm on the man, he revived him with a tap of his wand.
Moreau's eyes opened and widened when he realised his predicament.
"I'm going to ask you some questions," Barty growled. "You will either nod or shake your head to answer. Do you understand?"
Moreau nodded, and he began to sweat nervously.
"Have you sold a home to an Englishman recently?"
He received a nod in response.
"Was it Harry Potter?"
Another nod, and Barty removed the silencing charm.
"Explain," he commanded.
"Mr P-Potter came to me recommended by Sebastien D-Delacour. I s-sold him a home outside of Saint Nazaire. He paid in gold."
"Where is this home?"
"I d-do not know," Moreau said confusedly. "I do not know where it is."
Barty slammed his fist on the table.
Moreau being unable to remember the location meant that Potter had hidden it, which was not good. Still, he would not be leaving empty-handed.
"Outside of Saint Nazaire?"
"West," Moreau answered. "It's to the west."
Barty nodded as he aimed his wand at the an and stunned him once more.
Returning the office to the state it was in and untying the man, he wiped Moreau's memory before taking his seat and reviving the Frenchman.
"Well, I am sorry that you do not have what I am looking for, Mr Moreau," Barty sighed. "Thank you for your time."
He shook the confused man's hand and took his leave of the office, not pausing to bid farewell to the woman.
Barty had considered using Legilimency on Moreau, but he'd never been so proficient in the art. Wiping a memory was one thing, but invading one was another thing entirely.
He could not risk being detected, not yet, at least.
His work on Moreau's memory would mean the man would forget he'd ever visited shortly, and he would go about his day as though nothing had happened.
It gave Barty time to look into the house further.
Moreau may not be able to tell him where it was, but Saint Nazaire was close to the western coast of France.
There was not much land between the city and the coast.
If Potter had indeed purchased property there, Barty would find some trace of it.
(Break)
"It was a mistake, wasn't it?"
"No, not a mistake," Violetta sighed. "I suppose it took him by surprise. It is not an offer that is made lightly, Isabella."
"I know and I wouldn't have made it if I thought it would scare him off."
"I expect he has been busy."
"Or avoiding me."
"It is a lot to take in, my girl. If it wasn't something he was considering, he would have told you by now. He doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would simply ignore you. He would give an answer if he had one to give."
"I still wish I hadn't asked him now."
"You were doing something noble, Isabella. It is something that would benefit you both. Maybe your timing was not so impeccable."
"When is it the right time to ask someone if you can have their baby?"
Usually, when you're married," Violetta laughed.
Theo's eyes widened, and his grip tightened on the handle of his door.
Isabella had offered to have Potter's child.
Thinking of it objectionably, it wasn't a terrible idea for both of them, but Theo could not fathom the reality of Potter being the father to his nephew or niece.
It went against just about everything he'd stood for as long as he could remember.
"The thing you have to remember, Isabella, is that Harry did not have a family whilst he was growing up. That is undoubtedly a factor he must consider. If you were to have his child and he decided to marry another… I do not think that is the family life he probably envisioned when he realised he was an orphan."
"I know," Isabella sighed. "It's not as though I could just ask him to marry me though."
"It may have been less shocking than offering to have his baby."
"I suppose so," Isabella murmured. "It was his birthday a few days ago. I expect he's had offers already. He's not come since I mentioned the baby."
"He will," Violetta assured her. "He wouldn't just forget about it, nor us."
"I hope not. "
Theo closed the door gently and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
He understood why Isabella had offered to have Potter's child, but there was much more to it than that. She liked Potter and was maybe even in love with him.
If neither of those things were true, it wouldn't bother her so much that he'd likely received other offers from Lords and Ladies in a much more favourable position than his own family.
Theo released a deep breath.
He'd never heard Isabella speak of a boy in such a way. His older sister had always been rather closed off and accepting of the fact that it would be her father who would choose any potential husband.
Theo had spent that past several hoping she wouldn't be lumbered with the likes of Crabbe, Goyle, or even worse, Draco, but he had not even entertained the idea of someone outside of his house, let alone that Isabella would have a say in who she married.
It had crossed his mind that she may choose to live a life similar to their Great-Aunt, Rosalina, but it certainly hadn't that it could well be him who would make that final decision.
If his father were to die, he would become Lord Nott, after all.
As he pondered that very prospect, he found himself thinking of the kind of man he would wish for his one and only sister, and though it irked him somewhat to admit it, there would be few who could measure up to Harry Potter.
In truth, there was not a single other he could think of who would come close.
(Break)
"I'm sorry, Mr Potter. I do not know what has happened, but I was alerted to your file this morning," Mr Moreau explained.
"It's alright. We suspected this would happen. That was why I chose to complete the transaction of the house through you."
"I know, but I am disappointed I did not find him suspicious."
Harry had indeed planned for this eventuality.
If either Nott or Voldemort were eager enough to find the family, they would do so. Harry had faced a decision of whether he should do his utmost to hide them completely or leave a loose trail to be followed that he could exploit.
He'd opted for the latter.
From what had happened to his parents, he could not have complete faith in magic to conceal the house indefinitely. There was always a flaw, and in this case, he could not afford to doubt Voldemort's ability to expose it.
"Do you remember what he looked like?"
Moreau shook his head.
"I remember nothing."
Harry nodded.
At the very least, Moreau could not have given whomever it was the exact location of the house.
"Marie," Moreau whispered suddenly, exiting his office.
Harry followed and they came upon the receptionist who sorting through a thick stack of parchment.
"The man who visited this morning, did he leave a name?"
Marie shook her head.
"Do you remember what he looks like?"
"I do," Marie confirmed.
"Could I take the memory of your interaction?"
"Of course," Marie complied, removing the requested strand with the tip of her wand.
Harry hastily conjured a vial and placed the memory within, eager to view it at his earliest convenience.
"Is the other house ready, Mr Moreau?"
"It is," the man confirmed. "I will fetch the keys for you. All of the security work was completed by my own people just a few days ago. You need only use your blood to activate the protections."
Harry nodded gratefully and the Frenchman left him briefly, returning a moment later with the keys to the second house he'd purchased.
The first may have been discovered, but the second would not.
"You know what I must do."
Moreau nodded and Harry levelled his wand towards him.
"Obliviate."
He repeated the process with the secretary before taking his leave of the office.
He'd hoped that it would take longer for the Estate Agent to be discovered, but it was not to be.
Nonetheless, he had obtained an advantage he intended to exploit, and with Sirius working on his own via Auror Wilks, significant losses to the Dark Lord would soon follow.
(Break)
She didn't truly regret the offer she had made to Harry. It had been genuine and, in truth, unselfish on her part. It had crossed her mind that if Harry did indeed die during the war, any child they had would become the next head of the Potter family, but that was not why she had made the offer.
Harry's life, what she knew of it at least, had been miserable for the most part.
Isabella had hoped to give him something to be happy about.
Perhaps she had not worded it right when she'd explained her idea, and maybe she'd held back with her intentions. Regardless, the damage seemed to have been done now.
When she pondered if she would take it back, deep down, she knew she wouldn't, despite what seemed to have happened between them.
Days had gone by, and she'd neither seen nor heard from Harry.
Isabella turned away from the window she had been staring out of and tried to distract her wandering thoughts by studying one of the books on healing Harry had gotten her for her birthday.
His own had come and gone since, and she'd not even been able to give him a present.
With a sigh, she settled into her chair and managed to somewhat focus on the article she selected, only to be distracted by the sound of voices coming from the kitchen.
Closing her book, she drew her wand as she opened the door to her room.
"Harry!" she gasped. "What's happened?"
He seemed to be rather disturbed by something. His own wand was in hand, and whatever he'd explained to her mother had shaken her.
"You need to pack your things."
"Why?" Isabella asked.
"Your location has been compromised. I'm taking you somewhere else."
Isabella frowned.
"Harry…"
She was silenced as he took her by the arm and led her back into her room.
"I knew this might happen," he said apologetically. "Someone is determined to find you, and it is best that you're not here when they do. You'll be going to another one of my properties where I've ensured this can't happen again."
"My Father?"
"Maybe," Harry answered, "but the man who did the legwork in locating you is worse. Come on, we do need to leave."
Isabella nodded and her trunk packed in a matter of moments.
"I'm ready," she declared.
Harry offered her a comforting smile.
"It will be okay," he assured her.
"Will it?"
"You have my word."
Isabella smiled weakly in return, unable to enjoy Harry taking her by the hand as he led her back into the kitchen where her mother and Theo was waiting for them.
"Ready?" Harry asked as he removed a portkey in the shape of the Potter family crest.
Theo's brow was furrowed questioningly as he nodded and each of them reached out to take hold of the offered portkey.
Isabella felt the hooking motion in her navel, and when she opened her eyes, she was in another house, in a place that was much warmer.
Harry immediately set to work, cutting deeply into his hand and placing his leaking palm onto the wall of what appeared to be a large living area, murmuring under his breath as he did so.
Blood magic.
For most, it was a taboo practice and something even some of the more traditional families of Great Britain frowned upon.
Isabella had studied it during her time at Durmstrang, and it could be as effective as it was dangerous.
It took Harry several moments to complete his task, and when he was done, he sealed the wound before emptying a large vial of blood-replenishing potion.
"Potter, what is happening?" Theo asked.
"Nothing now, you're safe," Harry assured him. "I suppose it was to good to be true to hope that no one would look for you and not go to so much trouble."
"The Dark Lord?" Theo asked worriedly.
"I think so," Harry sighed. "He sent someone else, but not even Tom can get to you here. The house you were in has been compromised, but I can use that to my advantage now."
Theo nodded uncertainly.
"Where are we?"
"You are in what I am hoping will one day be a holiday home. It is an isolated and unplottable island in the Philippines. When I was looking for a place in France, this one was shown to me, but it wasn't ready. The paint is barely dry. It has taken a lot of work to complete, but here it is. I'm sure you will find it much more bearable than the other. You have your own beach just outside, and the island is big enough for you to have some privacy. There are two other buildings here, both belonging to me."
"You bought an island?" Theo snorted.
"Not a bad idea now," Harry pointed out. "Anyway, there are two emergency exits you can take. One is in the basement, and the other is to the north of the island. I will show you that when I next visit."
"When will that be?" Isabella asked.
"Soon," Harry promised with an easy smile. "For now, I have to get back to France. I don't think it will be long before they come for you."
"You're going to set a trap?"
Harry nodded.
"I have a personal score to settle with Barty Crouch."
"Crouch?" Violetta whispered. "Be careful with him, Harry. He's dangerous."
"I know better than anyone how dangerous he is," Harry replied darkly, his expression shifting considerably. "Crouch is going to find out how dangerous I am."
With that, he vanished, and Isabella could only stare at the spot he had been occupying.
She had never seen Harry so angry, and even now, she could feel the chill he'd left in his wake.
Nonetheless, she once more found herself worrying about him, lamenting on the fact that they'd not been able to discuss what had been plaguing her.
"He'll be back, Isabella," her mother said comfortingly. "He always comes back."
"Maybe one day he won't," Isabella acknowledged, swallowing deeply at the thought.
(Break)
Lucius eyed the piece of parchment he'd been handed by the pale Wilks, nodding as he read the contents before handing it to the waiting Narcissa.
"Is that Black's signature?" he asked.
Narcissa gasped as she nodded.
"It is," she confirmed, breathing a sigh of relief.
The parchment was everything the woman had been hoping for. It was Draco's official sentence, including the location of where he would serve it. With Azkaban destroyed, it seemed that the member countries of the ICW had shared the burden of housing the prisoners of one of their allies.
"I did what you asked me," Wilks spoke. "Where are my wife and daughter?
"You see, Wilks, we do have a problem," Lucius said with a smirk. "What is to stop you from running to Black and telling him everything?"
"He'll kill me," Wilks answered simply. "The penalty for treason is death. I willingly broke the law to get you that, and I would be thrown through the veil, even if I had no choice. Please, I just want my wife and daughter. We will leave the country if that is what it takes. I helped you locate your son. I've done everything you asked."
"Your wife and daughter will be released," Lucius assured him. "But you are a loose end I cannot allow. Avada Kedavra!"
Wilks' eyes widened as the curse was fired towards him, and he collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
Lucius nodded, satisfied as he turned towards his wife.
"Now, let us get our son back."
(Break)
Barty could not help but grin as he peered into Nott's study from the fireplace. The man was a mess, ungroomed and clutching a glass of Firewhiskey. The near-empty bottle rested next to him.
"What do you want, Crouch?" Nott snarled.
His words were slurred and his eyes unfocused as he looked in the general direction of Barty.
"I bring good news."
Nott frowned.
"Well, out with it!" he demanded.
"I think you will want to hear this in person."
"Then stop pissing around and come through!"
Barty did so, removing the ash from his robes once he'd arrived within Nott Manor and wrinkled his nose. It smelled like a distillery, and he watched as the patriarch of the family emptied his glass and poured himself another.
Barty grinned again, eliciting a deep scowl from Nott.
"I'm in no mood for games, Crouch. What do you want?"
"That's no way to treat a guest who brings such a wonderful gift," Barty chastised.
Nott suddenly stood and threw his glass towards him, and Barty laughed as he ducked.
"You may want to save some of that aggression, old friend. You can't greet your family in that state either."
Nott blinked, his drunken mind taking a moment to process what Barty had said.
"My family?"
"I know where they are."
"Where?" Nott growled, stalking forward and seizing Barty by the front of his robes. "Tell me where they are!"
"I will do you one better," Barty replied gleefully. "I will take you to them, when you've sobered up. You'll need to have your wits about you. This is Potter we are dealing with."
"Potter?" Nott whispered.
He released Barty and spat on the ground, taking hold of his chair before he threw it against the wall in a fit of rage.
"I'll kill them!"
Barty smiled once more.
Nott had always been easy to rile, but this time, he'd not even had to try. Merely informing the man of his family's treachery was more than enough.
Nott that Barty cared for Nott's feelings.
He would take no small amount of joy in watching the man be torn apart by Potter for his own treachery against the Dark Lord.
Barty had not forgotten, and he wouldn't until they'd all paid for their crimes against his master.
(Break)
Harry took a few calming breaths to help centre his mind. He had dreamed of such an opportunity coming his way, and finally, after more than two years of waiting, it seemed he would finally be getting his hands on Barty Crouch.
The man's face had haunted him, the memory of watching Katie bleed out because of Crouch had haunted him.
Harry had envisioned what he would do when he inevitably had Barty alone, and now that moment was imminent, he knew exactly what would await him when he arrived.
Carefully, he ran his finger along the serrated blade and listened to his droplets of blood drip to the floor.
Barty Crouch was going to suffer. Before Harry claimed his soul, he would suffer indescribably.
"Come Death, come," he whispered.