The Atonement
The Dark Lord paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, his gaze flitting between Barty and Lucius. Both had come to inform him of the respective breakthroughs, and he was now pondering a way that he could use this to his advantage.
"My Lord?" Bart pressed impatiently.
"You will take Nott and six others," Voldemort decided. "We will plan your taking of his family with Draco's bid for freedom. I will lead an attack, splitting the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix. It will serve to ensure Potter is away from France whilst you do what you need, Barty."
The man nodded.
"What about me, my lord?" Lucius asked.
"I would use this time to familiarise yourself with where it is Draco is being kept," Voldemort urged. "It would not do to be caught."
"Yes, my lord," Lucius returned with a bow.
"I expect this would be best handled quietly. I shall give you the use of two others. I suggest you prepare for all eventualities, Lucius."
"I will, my lord. Thank you."
"Now, if there is nothing else, I have my own preparations to make."
Both men took their leave of the room, and the Dark Lord shifted his gaze towards the fire.
When the traitors of the Nott family were brought before him, perhaps he would parade their bodies through Diagon Alley for all to see. Maybe then they would learn that not even the great Harry Potter can protect them from the wrath of the Dark Lord.
He nodded satisfactorily to himself.
With Lucius's welp returned, the man may once more prove to be of use instead of moping around his manor.
Nonetheless, that was Lucius's problem, and the Dark Lord trusted Barty implicitly to carry out his instructions. As he'd said to the two men, he had his own part in this to plan.
Potter would undoubtedly come to him when he learned of an ensuing attack, leaving Barty uninhibited.
Voldemort smiled.
Thus far, he'd not learned as much as he wished of the magic the boy wielded, but he would use this opportunity to gain further knowledge and experience in dealing with it.
Soon enough, he would have accumulated enough that he'd no longer need to be cautious of what Potter was capable of. Then, he could finally put an end to the saga between them.
With Potter dead, there was none to stand in his way, not the Ministry and certainly not the old fool and his Order.
It would indeed be a glorious day and one the Dark Lord longed for.
Seventeen years.
He had waited seventeen years to put the prophecy to rest, and finally, he felt as though it was close to being on the cusp of being resolved.
(Break)
The atmosphere around the table of Grimmauld Place was anticipatory and tense. The members of the Order had gathered, and though Albus had yet to speak, they immediately thought something was afoot.
Sirius was oddly quiet as he contemplated his own predicament, and Albus himself was pensive.
It had come upon him suddenly: a conversation with Sirius and a hurriedly scrawled letter from Harry.
Now, they were here, and Albus was keen for some input on how they would tackle these issues.
"Sirius, would you care to begin with what you have discovered?"
The man nodded grimly.
"It was brought to my attention recently that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had kidnapped the family of one of my Aurors," he explained. "The plan was to extract information pertaining to their son's whereabouts. The Auror in question came to me, and I provided him with what he needed. Three days ago, he met with the Malfoys and has not been since. I suspect he has been murdered."
Cedric and Tonks both seemed to take the perceived death of one of their colleagues personally, and Albus held up a hand to prevent either of them from talking.
"I'm expecting that they will try to free Draco imminently and have been preparing for an attempted breakout. I cannot say for certain when it will happen or what approach they will take, but it is coming. I am asking for a couple of volunteers to assist me with this. Tonks, Diggory, you're already included as part of the Ministry party."
"We'll do it," one of the Weasley twins declared, gesturing to himself and his sibling.
Sirius nodded appreciatively.
"Albus?"
The headmaster released a deep breath as Severus raised his hands.
"I have been asked by Lucius to assist him," he revealed. "Draco is still my godson."
"Does that complicate matters?" Albus questioned.
"So long as I do not allow harm to come to Draco, no," Severus assured him.
"Then you must tread carefully," Albus urged.
"I have already taken the precaution of having Draco moved," Sirius explained. "For now, he will remain in the holding cells of the Ministry."
Severus breathed a sigh of relief, as did Albus, who did not wish for any vow or promise the man had made to interfere with what was to come.
"I also received a letter from Harry," Albus informed the group. "In short, he is expecting his own problems on the continent in the form of Barty Crouch Jr. Harry somewhat laid a trap for the Dark Lord, but it was Barty that is going to fall into it. Harry was rather vague, but I do not need to explain to any of you the animosity he has towards Crouch. I have been unable to reach Harry."
"Nor I," Sirius sighed worriedly.
"That will be the other operation Lucius referred to," Severus murmured thoughtfully. "He said that Barty and Nott would be busy with their own venture. They have been given six others to accompany them."
Albus nodded.
If Harry were expecting them and had prepared accordingly, he would likely be fine, though that did not prevent him from worrying.
What Harry would do to them did not bear thinking about.
"Very well. Can we expect the Dark Lord to attack?"
Severus nodded.
"Lucius said as much."
"Do you think he wanted you to know that?" Arthur questioned suspiciously.
"No," Severus said dismissively. "He often says too much when he is quite euphoric. Learning of his son's whereabouts certainly loosened his tongue."
"Then we know what it is we face," Albus murmured. "Those who are not assisting Sirius with the Malfoys will ready themselves to intervene wherever the Dark Lord will be."
"He is expecting Potter," Severus broke in. "The reason for his own attack is to ensure that Potter is not where Barty will be. It must be."
"Then he will be disappointed, and by the time he realises Harry is not coming, it will be too late," Albus pointed out, readying himself to face off with his former student once more in Harry's absence.
As ever, it would be no easy feat to survive merely, but Albus knew Harry would not be dissuaded from his own course of action.
If there was anyone he despised close to what he felt for Tom Riddle, it was Barty Crouch Jr.
(Break)
With his preparations done, Harry had forced himself to sleep for at least a few hours during the day. He was in no doubt that Crouch would come after sunset. It was the way the Death Eaters operated, after all.
Nonetheless, that did not assuage his impatience. He'd been such for long enough, and he simply could not wait to have the man within his grasp finally.
In between sleeping and checking his preparations for the umpteenth time, Harry did his utmost to calm his warring thoughts.
Doing so was difficult at best. Until the prospect of Crouch being at his mercy had become a reality, he had not realised just how much the man's continued existence had weighed down upon him.
That would soon be remedied.
His hand twitched towards his wand in anticipation of what was to come.
Barty believed he had the upper hand from his own clandestine work, but the man was not to know that Harry had been operating in the shadows the moment he'd learned of the man's involvement in all that had befallen him during his fourth year of Hogwarts.
Harry had merely bided his time, and now that the moment was all but here, he knew that he had never been more ready for anything else throughout his entire life.
(Break)
For the past three days, he'd had the place watched. Every movement of every Auror and prisoner within had been noted, and it wasn't with much difficulty that Lucius had deduced the prison ran on a tight schedule.
The prisoners were released for one hour a day to be exercised and marched around a large yard like a herd of cattle, where they were forced into silence by the heavy-handed guards.
Even without the presence of the wayward Dementors that Potter seemed to have taken control of, it made for miserable conditions.
"Have you seen him?" Lucius whispered to one of the men he'd tasked with observing the prison.
"He was brought out this morning. His hair is quite unmistakeable."
Lucius breathed a sigh of relief as he added a comforting nod to the waiting Narcissa.
"Protections?"
"Nothing that can't be blasted away," the man said dismissively. "They've not had the time to put up any defences we need be concerned with."
"Are you certain?"
The man nodded.
"I already secured a guard as he finished his duty," he explained. "He has given me a detailed description of what we will face inside."
"Good," Lucius murmured, his gaze shifting to the imposing, rocky building the Ministry had created.
It was far from being Azkaban, but it would be a dangerous undertaking, nonetheless.
"Now, all we must do is wait for the signal from the Dark Lord," Lucius mused aloud. "When we get it, we move in without delay. We secure my son, and then we get out of here, understood?"
"I know the plan, Malfoy," the man grumbled irritably.
Were they not in such a precarious position, Lucius would have reminded him of whom it was he was speaking to in such a way.
For now, however, he would let it go in favour of retrieving Draco. Perhaps then Narcissa would become what she had been before their son had been imprisoned.
As things were, she was but a shadow of herself, the very worst qualities she possessed having become more prominent.
His wife had always been calm and measured, but without Draco, she had lost her way. Narcissa was almost as erratic as Bellatrix could be, and Lucius was reminded of the madness that was infamous amongst the Blacks.
Had she fallen into it?
Until they'd done what must be here, he wouldn't know, but the last thing he wanted was a mad woman for a wife.
He'd seen how Rodolphus had suffered through the years at the hand of Bellatrix and her unfettered infatuation with the Dark Lord.
Lucius would have killed the woman the moment he'd been slighted, but Rodolphus had never been capable enough. Bellatrix would have killed him in the blink of an eye, and Lestrange did not possess the where-with-all to poison the woman in her sleep.
No, Lucius hoped beyond hope that Narcissa had not been gripped by the madness that plagued her family, though he knew that only time would tell.
(Break)
Barty was positively vibrating with excitement as the house came into view. It was a modest dwelling, perhaps consisting of three bedrooms and a small garden. He was certain the Potters were much wealthier than this home depicted, but if the boy had bought this for the sole purpose of it being a hideout, it made sense he would not invest much gold into it.
"Steady, Nott," he chided, taking the man by the arm as he lunged forward. "Not until we are given the go-ahead. You wouldn't want to run into Potter here, would you?"
"I'll strangle the bastard!" Nott growled.
Barty rolled his eyes at him.
Potter would tear Nott in half with nary a thought.
"The Dark Lord told us to wait."
Nott cursed under his breath but took a seat.
"They're in there, I can feel it."
"And you will have them back."
A grin crest Barty's lips as he realised Nott was focused only on the house before them.
The defences here had admittedly been rather extensive and impressive, but neither Barty nor Nott had been so valued by the Dark Lord because they were mediocre wizards.
Between them, they had made short work of the protections, and all without alerting any within to their presence.
"There's movement," Nott whispered, craning his neck to get a better look at the silhouette in the window. "That's my wife!"
"Calm yourself, Nott," Barty hissed, pulling the man back once more. "If you do not compose yourself, you will ruin everything."
Barty could not have that.
If he was to retrieve the family and be rid of the fool in a well-calculated accident with one of the protections he had left in place, Nott needed to comply.
"Fine!" the man snapped. "I'll bloody well wait."
"They are the instructions of the Dark Lord," Barty reminded him. "You can rest assured, I am just as eager as you to get in there, as are the others."
The masked and robed men waiting behind them murmured their agreement, though they did not sound so keen. Why would they when it was Potter they were dealing with?
The boy had proven himself to be dangerous and resourceful enough, but he wasn't the Great Lord Voldemort.
The boy could never hope to compare, even if he did still have his uses.
"How long?" Nott grumbled.
"As long as it takes," Barty sighed. "The Dark Lord will tell us when."
Nott grunted, and Barty shook his head.
He would be glad to be rid of the surly man, something that would come in due course, though not soon enough as far as Barty was concerned.
(Break)
The calm before the storm…
It appeared to be a peaceful night, but Albus knew better. Severus had informed him that the attempted breakout would be taking place this very evening.
Of course, he had sent Harry a brief message to confirm it with the young man, but he'd received no reply.
Already, Sirius was in place to intercept the Malfoys, and Albus found himself in good company with the remaining members of the Order that had not accompanied him.
Although there were many gathered in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, none spoke a word.
Molly was pacing around the room, busying herself with whatever menial task she could so that she was not focused on what her twins were doing, to no avail. She had even brought the family clock along, and the arrows belonging to Fred and George pointed to them being in danger.
The clock seemed to be broken. All of the hands indicated the same thing for each of the Weasleys.
"Is Severus certain it is happening tonight?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence.
Albus nodded in response, turning sharply as an ethereal dog, the patronus belonging to Sirius materialised in the room.
"The attack is taking place in Birmingham. Aurors are on the way. He has quite the force with him."
Albus nodded grimly to himself.
"We know what we are to do. Minerva, if the worst is to happen…"
He needed not to finish the sentence as his Deputy nodded.
"Then let us not delay the inevitable," Albus declared, leading the group to vanish from the ancestral home of the Blacks.
(Break)
He smiled as he walked through the chaos that surrounded him, the symphony of screams, of muggles and magical alike as they begged for their lives, the sweetest of music to his ears.
There was no true purpose here, no specific goal the Dark Lord had set out to achieve other than to cause a distraction. This made it a relaxed affair, though, at the back of his mind, he was anticipating the imminent arrival of the boy that had plagued his conscience longer than he cared to remember.
Potter.
It may not be tonight that he meets his demise, but Potter would meet his maker at Lord Voldemort's hands.
Carelessly, he hurled a curse towards a fleeing mother who was trying to shepherd her three children away from their burning house.
"Mum!" the eldest, a boy, whimpered pathetically.
The Dark Lord laughed as he threw himself over her still body and sobbed, unaware of the cursed flames that enveloped him and his siblings.
Lord Voldemort laughed once more as they cleared and all that remained of the little family was four burnt skeletons, the mouths agape in a final scream of pain.
With a nod of satisfaction to himself, he sent off the signals to Lucius and Barty.
The Order and the Aurors were likely already on their way here.
He continued his stroll through the streets of Birmingham. The city truly was an awful place, somehow much worse than London, where the Dark Lord had grown up in the squalid orphanage.
The mere thought of his childhood abode elicited an outburst of anger from him, and he levelled another house with little more than a thought and sweeping gesture of his wand.
"That is quite enough!"
Lord Voldemort smiled as he turned to be greeted by the sight of Dumbledore, the old fool, in person.
His smile was short-lived; however, when he could sense nothing of the very boy, this was all in aid of.
Where was Potter?
"He's not here," Dumbledore answered the unasked question. "You will have to contend with me this evening, Tom."
"Contend?" Voldemort spat. "You are no match for me, old man."
Dumbledore said nothing, choosing to raise his wand instead and unleash a barrage of spells towards the Dark Lord, who diverted them away, his thoughts drifting to the boy he had been expecting.
If Potter was not here, then where was he?
(Break)
They had wasted no time.
The very second they'd received the signal from the Dark Lord, they'd thrown everything they had towards the prison, bringing the mediocre protections down in a matter of moments.
An alarm sounded loudly across the empty land as Lucius all but sprinted through the corridors with Severus and Narcissa in tow.
"Where is he?" the latter asked. "DRACO?"
Many of the cells they passed were empty, currently unoccupied due to the destruction of Azkaban, and those that were, did not house Draco.
"Where is my son?" Lucius snarled, seizing an injured Auror by the throat.
The man wheezed as he struggled for breath, and Lucius released him.
"Eighty-four," he managed to communicate.
"Eighty-four," Lucius repeated, his gaze shifting to the numbered cells surrounding them. "Sixty-two," he murmured. "This way!"
Once more, he led the charge, counting up the numbers as they passed each door, sliding to a halt as he reached the cell in question. Peering through the observation slit, he could see a pale, trembling Draco huddled in the corner.
"We're here, Draco," Lucius soothed as he frantically tried to unlock the door. "Come on, you bast…"
The lock clicked open, and he tore the door open and rushed forward, turning sharply as he heard a panicked scream from his wife.
Turning, he noticed that Severus was unconscious and Narcissa was being wrestled by half a dozen Aurors that had appeared from nowhere.
"Black!" he spat at the sight of the Minister bearing down on him.
Raising his wand, he allowed the hatred he felt for the man to fill him.
"Avada…"
He fell to his knees as something struck him heavily in the back, and before he could catch his bearings, he was disarmed and handcuffed, looking up at the smug expression of Sirius Black.
"You really are a stupid bastard, Malfoy," he said almost disappointedly. "I've known you were here the moment your people arrived three days ago. I knew you couldn't resist. Now, what charges are we going to bring against you?"
"Where is my son?" Lucius demanded.
"Draco is quite safe," Black said dismissively. "We thought it best he wasn't here for this. I don't think it would do him much good to know how much of a failure his father is, isn't that right, Auror Tonks."
Lucius watched as who he had thought was his son transformed into Narcissa's metamorph niece, and even though he was unarmed and restrained, he lunged forward in anger.
They'd been lured into a trap, and now, he found himself at the mercy of Sirius Black, as did Narcissa, Severus, and the others that he had brought with him.
The Dark Lord would be furious.
With that in mind, Lucius reluctantly bowed his head in submission.
Perhaps he was safer with Black than he would be his master. The man would punish Lucius so severely for such a foolish error that whatever the Ministry was going to throw at him would seem like a holiday camp.
Still, this was not how he'd envisioned his life ending up.
Now, his prospects were not good. If he managed to avoid the death penalty, there was no doubt in his mind he would be thrown in a hole to rot for whatever days remained of his miserable life.
"Get them out of here!" Black snarled.
Lucius did not resist as he was hauled to his feet.
Instead, he chose to lament on better days before the Dark Lord had returned, days he would likely never experience again.
(Break)
"That's the signal!" Nott cried.
Barty did not stop him this time as he lunged towards the house. Who was he to take away the last morsel of excitement the man would experience?
He smirked as he followed at a more leisurely pace, urging the six others who had come along to keep pace with Nott. They did so, and Barty slowed to a walk so he could watch what would come unfold.
He was not disappointed, though he had not expected what happened. He felt the defences close in around him; stifling and powerful.
They'd spent hours ridding the place of them, and yet, they'd seemingly returned, even stronger than before.
It was a scream from the house as he neared that pulled him from his thoughts, bloodcurdling and drawn out before all was silent for a moment. It was broken by frantic shouts, and Barty paused as Nott and only one of the other Death Eaters fled via the back door.
He scowled.
Nott was supposed to be dead!
Barty would soon remedy that, but the sight of the other falling and being dragged back through the back door by an unseen force took him aback. Another scream and a loud thud sounded, and then another eerie silence fell upon them.
"Run, you fool!" Nott urged, alarmed by whatever he had witnessed.
Barty shook himself from his stupor and levelled his wand at the retreating man, hitting him with a disarming charm. Nott's own wand vanished into the darkness, and the man scrambled to his feet in desperation, whimpering as he was bound in thick ropes.
"Crouch, get me out of this!" he demanded.
Barty laughed and shook his head, revelling in the look of fear and confusion that marred Nott's features.
"You were supposed to die in the house, but I can't say that I am disappointed that I get to kill you myself."
Nott frowned before his eyes widened.
"You're a traitor!" he spat. "I always knew you couldn't be trusted. You're just like your father!"
Any amusement that Barty had felt all but vanished with one sweeping statement from the man.
"I am not my father!" he snapped. "I serve the Dark Lord proudly. You denounced him, all of you, when it came time to save your own skins. I remained loyal!"
"Only because Karkaroff named you!"
"My loyalty never wavered," Barty denied. "The moment I could, I sought him out. I killed my father in service to the Dark Lord. You hid and returned out of fear, just like the rest of them. Not that it matters now. The Dark Lord may have forgiven you, but not me. There is no place amongst us for disloyalty. Don't worry, Nott, your family will join you shortly. Avada Kedavra."
He felt a rush of the utmost joy as he watched the jet of green light consume the man who died with an expression of disbelief. Nott hadn't suffered as he deserved, but the man was dead, and that was all that mattered to Barty.
Before he could truly revel in Nott's passing, however, Barty's vision swam, and he collapsed to the ground as something impacted against his jaw.
When he regained consciousness, what could only have been a moment or so later, he was bound in ropes and being dragged towards the house by his hair, his protests falling on deaf ears.
His jaw was throbbing painfully, and he grunted as he was thrown onto a hard floor before the wind was forced from his lungs from a kick to his sternum.
Barty groaned, coughing as another followed. The blows kept coming until he saw stars dancing in front of his eyes, and the next brought the bliss of darkness upon him.
It was still dark when he woke, and his breathing came in short, sharp bursts, making him wince from the pain lancing through him.
"If I would have known what a monster you had become, I never would have begged your father to let you free."
The voice that spoke to him was familiar, though the disappointment he heard in it was new to him.
"Mother?" he whispered, his eyes widening as the ghostly figure stepped into his field of vision.
"I begged and pleaded with your father. I told him he had gotten it wrong, that there was no way our little boy would have involved himself with that man. He wouldn't hear it, or maybe it was me that did not wish to face the truth. Why, Barty? What did we do that was so wrong?"
Barty shuddered as her cold hand came to rest on his cheek and he recoiled as she struck him.
"You were my little boy!" she sobbed. "Now, I cannot look at you. You are no son of mine."
She turned her back on him, and Barty fought against the ropes that bound him, stilling as another figure appeared.
"You killed me," his father said accusingly. "There is a special place for people like you. I take comfort in the knowledge our family will end, knowing your soul will be tormented for the rest of time."
"Mother, please," Barty whispered, feeling very much like a little boy who had simply broken a prized vase. "Mother!"
The woman graced him with a final look and shook her head before they both vanished, leaving Barty very much alone.
(Break)
Harry took no small amount of joy in the man's suffering. Barty Crouch deserved every second of misery he had already endured, and yet, it was only the beginning.
With his parents gone, Harry stepped out of the shadows, his hardened gaze fixed upon the man responsible for so much of his own tribulations, scarcely believing he finally had him at his mercy.
"Did you enjoy your reunion, Barty?" he asked, surpised by how calm his voice sounded.
Harry was anything but, the fury coursing through his veins reminiscent of the night he had watched Katie have her throat slit.
It was all because of the man bound to the chair before him, all because of Barty Crouch Jr, a madman who served the Dark Lord but who evidently had his own motivations in life.
Harry had seen him murder Nott, had heard his speech accusing the man of being a traitor.
It was almost laughable how Barty dared judge others for their actions when the blood on his own hands was so plentiful.
Harry too was no picture of innocence. He had killed willingly and would do so again. What he intended to do with Barty went beyond any perceived innocence of self-defence or even self-preservation, but he didn't care.
Barty chuckled.
"Your tricks will have no effect on me, Potter."
"Tricks?" Harry returned as he squatted in front of the man. "No, no, Barty, that was no trick. Surely you have felt it. Whenever you ventured away from the loving embrace of your master, you felt that chill run down your spine, the icy breath breathing down your neck. You've seen him for yourself, and I must say, he is very keen to meet you."
Barty frowned and Harry stood.
"The moment you used this blade to cut her throat, you went to the very top of the list of those I wished to see dead," he murmured as he held the knife in front of him.
He had taken from the hand of Barty's father in what was perhaps a morbid trophy, but now, the man's ending would be in some way poetic.
He could not fathom what was coming to him.
"He's been watching you very closely, Barty. That same cloaked figure that has stalked you from the shadows. You see, even your master fears him, has done all he can to flee from him, but you cannot hide from my master, Barty. Death comes for us all."
For the first time since he'd woken, a flicker of fear appeared in Barty's eyes, and Harry offered him a feral grin.
"You can feel it now," he whispered. "He's here and he's just waiting for me to release you to him, but that won't be for some time yet. I have my own score to settle with you, and I'm afraid that it is going to be most unpleasant. You made a mistake killing her, Barty. I thought that I could move past it, that I would learn to live with the loss and the guilt of what you did, but I realised that I couldn't, not whilst you lived. With you gone, I will finally be free of it, but not until you suffer as I have. I'm going to break you, Barty; mind, body, and soul, I'm going to pick you apart, piece by piece. You have my permission to scream as loudly as you like. No one can hear you here, only Death."
He jammed the blade into Barty's thighs, the man's roar of agony only the beginning of the utmost misery he would endure in the final moments of his life.
Harry had pondered for months on a fitting end for Barty, and the blood curse he'd come across was the best he could come up with.
It wasn't perfect, but nothing ever would be for Crouch.
Still, it would keep him in the land of the living whilst Harry carried out his other wishes.
"Come Death, come," Harry murmured as he removed the blade before stabbing it through one of Barty's eyes.
(Break)
It was difficult to say how long they'd gone back and forth, casting and countering one another's magic as the world seemed to burn around them. The smell of smoke filled his nose, and the heat of the flames warmed him, uncomfortably so.
Nonetheless, despite his tiredness, Albus would not relent. Feeling every year he'd lived, he battled on.
Tom had only gotten better since they'd faced one another in the hidden passage of the castle, and the headmaster knew he'd only waned. Such vigour was for younger men.
Much to his relief and fortune, Tom chose to retreat, evidently when he decided his distraction had lasted long enough and when his own followers were overwhelmed by the combined efforts of the Aurors and members of the Order.
Albus was exhausted, yet he needed to know what had occurred at the prison.
Sending a message to Sirius, he began assisting with what would prove to be a monumental clean-up operation.
As ever, the Magical Catastrophes team arrived, along with a plethora of Healers, and the process truly began.
Albus took a moment to survey the scene as he wiped the layer of perspiration from his brow.
"Albus, are you okay?" Minerva asked, relieved to see him seemingly whole.
He nodded.
Her robes had been burned in places, but she did not appear to be injured.
"I'm old, Minerva," he sighed. "Far past my best."
"Nonsense," the woman said dismissively.
Albus chuckled humourlessly.
"There was a time that your words would flatter me and convince me I was merely having a bad day. I fear It is not so any longer. Ah, Nymphadora. What news?"
The Auror seemed as tired as those who had been here, but she nodded.
"We have the Malfoys in custody," she informed them. "We had to arrest Severus too. I think Diggory took a little more joy than you'd like in that."
"How is he?"
"Fine," Tonks assured him. "Two of the Death Eaters were killed, but none of ours. All went to plan."
Albus nodded appreciatively.
"Have you heard from Harry?"
"No, and Cedric is getting worried," Tonks murmured, an expression of concern crossing her features.
"As am I," Albus sighed, pondering whether or not he should send a message to the young man. "As am I."
(Break)
The storm had rolled in late the previous night and had continued through the entirety of the morning, an omen of tumultuous times indeed. Still, it was a sight to behold; dangerous, raging, and unyielding.
A reminder that nature was the true force in the world.
Isabella had been unable to sleep through it.
They had been here for four days now, and no news had come.
Harry had not returned, and she was beginning to worry about him. He'd made it seem that their previous location would be attacked imminently, that it was imperative they left the very moment he'd arrived, and then, he was gone.
She watched as the rain continued to pound the island, and though it was a welcome break from the heat she was to acclimatise to, it was no less dreary.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Isabella was startled by the sound of her mother's voice.
"It is," she agreed, turning towards the woman. "What's wrong?"
Her mother had been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her cheeks stained by the tears she'd shed.
"Your father," she answered, holding up her hand.
Her wedding ring.
It was usually a vibrant gold, and now, it was black.
Isabella swallowed deeply.
"Is he…?"
Her mother nodded.
"It woke me in the early hours. He's dead."
Her voice sounded so flat and lifeless and Isabella immediately pulled her into a tight embrace.
"I'm sorry, Mum."
She meant it.
Isabella did not agree with what her father had done in service to the Dark Lord, but she was not foolish to believe that there was never a time that her parents were not madly in love.
They had been, and though it had likely been many years since the woman had felt such for the man, she would still mourn what it was they once had.
"I knew it was coming," her mother sighed. "There's just nothing that can quite prepare you for it. Your father was lost to me a long time ago."
"Does Theo know?"
"He does. He took it well enough," her mother said sadly. "I think the suffering he caused your brother took its toll on him."
Isabella nodded.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, I'll be alright," her mother assured her. "I think we have a visitor," she added darkly, nodding towards the ocean."
A black mass was barrelling through the air towards them, parting the waves as it swooped in before a sodden and exhausted Harry landed on the beach.
He was ghostly pale from lack of sleep, and his eyes were dull, far from their usually fiery green.
He approached, his expression unreadable.
"I already know," her mother said before Harry could speak.
He nodded grimly.
"Crouch," he murmured.
"Crouch?" her mother asked confusedly.
"Crouch killed him. I'm not saying I wouldn't have, but Barty had it in his head that your husband and the others who denounced the Dark Lord were traitors. Crouch is dead, and your husband's death was quick and painless. I have preserved his body for burying, and I am sorry for your loss. It doesn't bring me any joy see anyone lose a father or a woman her husband. I would not wish that on anyone."
Oddly, he seemed to truly mean what he said, the death of an enemy weighing on him more than Isabella had expected.
She'd known it was likely that Harry would kill him, had even come to terms with it, but she was not prepared to see him filled with sorrow for her and her family at her father's loss.
"Thank you, Harry," her mother said gratefully, taking him by the hand and giving it a squeeze. "Is Crouch…?"
"He is dead and he suffered greatly for everything he has done. The Malfoys have also been arrested. Is there anything you would like me to do for him?"
Her mother nodded.
"There is a family cemetery he should be laid to rest in," she explained. "I will write down the details."
"And I will ensure you can all be there," Harry promised. "You should all be able to say your goodbyes, even if you didn't always agree with what he did, he was still your husband, and your father. For now, I'll leave you, and let you know when the arrangements have been made."
"Would you like some lunch?" Violetta offered.
Harry shook his head.
"No, thank you. I think I just need to be alone for a while. It has been a trying night for me."
With that, he released a deep, tired sigh, offering them a weak smile before he vanished.
He hadn't said what he'd gone through, but in truth, he didn't need to. Harry was usually rather guarded, but Isabella felt she could see into his tormented soul and her heart went out to him.
It couldn't be easy being Harry Potter, and yet, he shouldered it so well, even the things that would break most others.
If there were an ounce of kindness in the world that was so full of hate, he would find some of the peace he so desperately sought and if he could be so lucky, the love he deserved.