The Possibilities
He tapped the tip of his finger rhythmically on the arm of the chair he was seated within, still pondering how everything had seemingly gone so wrong in one single night.
Barty…Nott…Lucius…Severus…
All four had been lost to him, and the Dark Lord could not figure out how such a thing had come to pass. They had been amongst his very best, his brightest, and most resourceful, yet hide nor hair of the former had been seen, and both Lucius and Severus were facing trial on several charges that would ensure neither would see the light of day for a very long time, if ever again.
Whatever had happened to Barty and Nott was lost on the Dark Lord entirely. None who had ventured to France had returned, though he had no doubt all of them were dead.
He could feel no connection to the mark they carried, and it was unlike Barty not to report back.
Potter.
There was no doubt in Lord Voldemort's mind that the boy had gotten to them, and if that was indeed true, he'd lost two of his oldest, most loyal followers.
He ceased tapping and stood, peering across the sprawling lawn of the home that had belonged to his muggle grandparents.
With such losses, he lacked leadership amongst the ranks, and without Lucius, his funds would begin to dry up.
Both needed to be remedied before he could proceed with his plans and though it was as frustrating as it was a blow to his pride, the Dark Lord knew he needed to slow his pursuit of power once again, only temporarily, of course.
In the interim, whilst he resolved what had befallen him, he would not leave all unattended. His efforts would continue, and the people of Britain would not be granted a reprieve.
Nonetheless, he needed to consider his next moves carefully before implementing anything further, and his focus would be on ridding himself of Harry Potter.
He had thought that the collapse of the country would lead to the boy falling into his grasp naturally, but that did not seem to be so.
No, it appeared that he would have to snatch Potter away from them. Once the true final beacon of light was last, the darkness could wash over them uninhibited.
Fate had decreed they would meet, after all, so why delay the inevitable, especially when the Dark Lord knew in his heart of hearts that Potter would die at his hands?
(Break)
She couldn't say she knew Harry well enough to say that she noticed the changes within him for certain, but for the past weeks that Susan had been living in his home, he seemed to be somewhat more relaxed than the very first night she'd arrived.
They'd interacted at Hogwarts from time to time, during lessons and in passing, and there had been an edge to him since the Triwizard Tournament had concluded.
That appeared to be absent now.
Although the weight of the war still evidently weighed heavy upon him, he seemed to have found a semblance of peace or contentment, at the very least.
He smiled more now, and his posture was relaxed, for the most part.
Harry just seemed more vibrant, and though Susan couldn't fathom what had caused such a change within him, it suited him.
He'd always been rather quiet and reserved to those he did not know well, and he was much the same now, but he became more open and relaxed the more time they spent together whilst he helped her with her upcoming NEWTs.
"I just don't get it," Susan huffed as she placed the book on the kitchen table. "How is it that two runes that should negate the effects of one another work in the same array."
"Why do you think?" Harry asked as he leaned back in his chair sporting an amused grin.
"You know, you can be a smug git," she grumbled, provoking a hearty laugh from him.
"I didn't get it either at first," he said comfortingly. "The reason they work as they show in the book is because they aren't exactly a part of the same array," he explained, pointing to the cluster of symbols. "This break in the chain separates them but equally brings them together as the chain continues through to the next sequence."
"That still doesn't make sense," Susan grumbled irritably.
"It's magic," Harry replied with a shrug. "What does make sense about it?"
She frowned.
It seemed that trying to make sense of and understand everything pertaining to the study of Ancient Runes was not the way to approach the subject.
"So, this one is the same," she guessed, pointing to the next page and another example.
"It is, but can you find the break in the sequence?" Harry asked.
Susan frowned as she translated the runes, nodding when she found the marking that was included purely to separate two opposing effects.
"Here," she announced, pointing it out to Harry.
He nodded as he removed a thick stack of parchment from his open trunk.
"Good," he praised. "Now you only have these to work through. I will check them when I'm back."
Susan groaned as she realised just how busy she would be kept in his absence.
"All of them?"
"All of them," Harry confirmed as he stood.
"You're enjoying this," Susan accused. "You get a kick out of seeing me suffer."
"Teaching does have its perks," he quipped in reply. "Besides, if you fail your exam, it will look bad on me. Have at it, Bones."
Susan threw a quill at him as he took his leave of the room, offering her an infuriating wave.
"Git," she snorted.
Harry was a taskmaster, and he was certainly taking her education seriously. Not a day went by where he wouldn't tutor in one subject or other, and Susan was grateful for his help, even if she didn't feel it as she looked upon the pile of work he'd set for her this morning.
She would let it pass, however.
Today was a momentous occasion for him. For the very first time, he would be stepping into the chambers of the Wizengamot as a man of age to claim his family title.
Susan had turned seventeen months prior but had not been afforded the same experience as yet.
When the war was over, her time would come, but today was Harry's turn, and Susan had no doubt he would do well. He didn't seem to think so, but Harry didn't seem to understand how he was viewed by others.
There was no doubt in her mind that Harry's ascension would truly make a difference, now and in the years to come.
(Break)
It seemed that it was not so long ago that Harry was here on behalf of Hagrid and Buckbeak, standing before the entirety of the Wizengamot with Cornelius Fudge at the helm.
It had been more than three years since that day, and much had happened during that time.
The tournament, Voldemort's return, and everything else in between. So much that Harry could scarcely believe only the better part of a few years had gone by, and here he was now.
The chamber was emptier, and the mood was darker. Those who noticed him enter prodded their neighbours and openly pointed to him. Harry had expected this, but it did not make it any more welcome.
He offered a nod to Neville, who had evidently arrived before him, and he noticed a few of his other peers amongst the Lords and Ladies, just as young and inexperienced and most thrust into their positions before they were ready.
Terry Boot was here, as were a few Slytherins he recognised, all doing their utmost not to draw attention to themselves. It was no secret that their fathers, or even uncles in some cases, had died in service to the Dark Lord.
Harry briefly wondered how many of those lives he had taken for himself before shaking his head and taking his next to Tiberius Ogden.
"It warms me to see you among us, Harry Potter," the man greeted him. "I expect all eyes will be on you."
"All eyes should be on the state of the country," Harry returned. "It is tearing itself apart at the seams and will collapse if this continues. I will play my part here so long as the rest of you do so equally. Failure starts at the very top, Lord Ogden, and this is just that, isn't it?"
The man's expression hardened as he nodded.
"You make it sound so simple."
"No," Harry denied. "I make it sound urgent."
Ogden frowned thoughtfully and turned away, which was the problem that most within these walls seemed to have. So long as something did not affect them directly, they were willing to ignore it.
It was easy for them.
They lived in large houses behind gates, walls, and magical protections that most could never hope to have in place.
Harry had been on the other side of that whilst he was growing up, and he'd never forgotten it. Most here had never experienced a day of hardship in their lives, not the same way as the average person did.
Harry was pulled from his thoughts as Dumbledore tapped his podium with a gavel, silencing the murmuring around the room.
"Before we get our meeting underway, I would first like to welcome the new faces among us," he began in his role as Chief Warlock. "Now, there are several things on our agenda, first and foremost, arranging trials for those involved in the attempted prison break a few weeks ago."
Harry snorted amusedly.
Both Narcissa and Lucius had been caught in the act, and Snape along with them, though his trial would be a farce. The man would simply be sent away until the war was done, and then hailed a hero upon his return.
Not that Harry minded.
They may be on the same side, but there was certainly no love lost between them, and Harry would be glad to see the back of the surly man.
Much to his relief, Dumbledore had not asked him to take on Snape's teaching responsibilities. Instead, he had hired someone else who would fill in for the man.
The headmaster had not divulged who that was, but Harry didn't care. So long as someone else was willing to take on that share, it didn't matter to him.
"They should be arranged quickly," Lord Greengrass urged. "If they are being held in the Ministry, we do not wish to encourage an attack here."
Harry nodded his agreement.
The sooner they were put to trial and convicted, the better.
"Very well," Dumbledore replied, receiving numerous murmurs in support. "Then I propose we begin this coming Friday."
He noted it down and scanned the room with his gaze once more.
"As much as the focus on the ongoing war is imperative, we cannot be seen to neglect the rest of our duties. With that being said, a proposal has been submitted by the Department of Magical Transportation…"
Harry quickly became lost in his own thoughts as Dumbledore explained the need for faster processing times for those arriving in Britain via portkey, and as he looked around the room for himself, he could not help but notice the sheer number of empty seats, with one, in particular, catching his attention.
Nott.
The recently deceased Lord had once been a prominent voice amongst those gathered, for better or worse, and Harry had what he could only describe as the sobering displeasure of attending the man's funeral the previous week.
He'd done so in the capacity of watching over the rest of the family whilst they said their goodbyes, and though he despised the man who had once tried to kill him, he was ultimately pleased that it had not been him to take Isabella's father away from her.
That dubious honour belonged to Crouch.
Even now, the thought of what the man had done sickened Harry, but he had relieved himself of that burden.
He felt freer for it, and though nothing would ever take away the suffering he'd endured because of Barty, he could finally move on from that chapter of his life.
Crouch was dead and had suffered inordinately for what he'd done.
Still, it brought little comfort to the Notts, who were still very much in mourning despite what the former patriarch of the family had put them through.
"If there are no other points to raise, I will end this meeting," Dumbledore finally declared after what seemed to be hours of monotonous discussions.
He did so, and Harry shared a few brief, polite exchanges with some of his peers as he took his leave of the chambers. He knew that in the future, he would have to pay closer attention to meetings, but with much still to do pertaining to the war, he couldn't bring himself to be distracted by the mundane things that he hoped would one day occupy his life.
(Break)
It had only been a matter of weeks ago that he was still a student at Hogwarts, attending his lessons with the added stress of finding a way into the castle of the Dark Lord. Without that addendum, life had been a rather simple commodity, but since he'd fled, it had become anything but.
Walking across the beach of a paradisial island should be a blissful experience. For Theo, however, it had become something of therapy. He'd known for some time that it was likely his father would die or end up in prison for the rest of his life, at the very least.
The reality of the loss had been harder than he'd expected.
The man was undeniably a monster, but he had not always been so, not to Theo.
He remembered fonder memories of his father reading to him when he was a small boy, and imparting teachings throughout his life. They'd flown together from time to time and would even sneak away from his mother and Isabella for ice cream at Fortescue's.
Despite all he'd done, Theo missed the father he'd once had, though he had irrevocably changed when the Dark Lord had returned.
It was as though a veneer had been ripped away and he'd seen the monster the rest of the world had always seen for the first time.
Theo realised he wasn't like his father, and he had no desire to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to see his family thrive and prosper without throwing their lot in with the Dark Lord.
That choice had been taken from his hands when it was insisted he helped Draco, and now, he would spend the rest of his life attempting to atone for the mistakes of his father.
He sighed as he peered towards the horizon.
Isabella and his mother were coping well enough now, and Theo had done his best to hold them together, to keep their spirits up whilst they were here. Still, they couldn't leave yet. Not until the war was done.
That meant they were at the behest of Harry Potter, something that would have been unfathomable only a year ago.
Theo wasn't ungrateful.
If it weren't for Potter, he'd likely be dead now.
"And they say that I'm broody."
Theo was startled from his thoughts by the masculine voice, and he turned to find that the man he'd been pondering was standing next to him. He hadn't seen Harry since the day of his father's funeral, assuming he'd given them time to mourn.
"I'm not brooding, I'm thinking."
"What about?"
Theo shot him a glance.
Potter wasn't mocking him; he seemed sincerely interested in what was going through his mind.
"How much of an uphill struggle I'm going to have to redeem the family name," Theo sighed. "I suppose I could donate to charities."
Potter shook his head.
"Malfoy did that, and he was still a scumbag to most," he pointed out. "If you want to redeem your name, Nott, just be a good person. Forget donating gold and hoping people will forget because they won't. Show them you're different and you won't even have to try to win them over."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It is," Harry chuckled. "I don't believe in allowing a son to suffer for his father's sins. If I did, you'd be dead. I won't pretend to know you, but anyone who spends more than a few minutes with you can see you're not like them."
Theo nodded thoughtfully.
"Are you going to be a philosopher when the war is done?"
He winced at the term and shook his head firmly.
"I was thinking of becoming a greengrocer," he replied. "I could have my own shop in a quiet village somewhere and just sell fruit and vegetables."
"Bugger off," Theo snorted. "You're not serious?"
"Why not?" Potter asked. "I suppose you assume I want to be an Auror or travel the world taking down any would-be Dark Lords I can find."
"I can't say it didn't cross my mind," Theo admitted. "It's what you're famous for."
Harry shook his head.
"I'm tired of fighting," he sighed. "It seems I've spent my whole life either doing it or preparing for it."
"What about Quidditch?"
Harry shrugged.
"I'm tired of the fame. If I played Quidditch, I wouldn't escape it."
"Potter, you can't escape it. As much as you want to, it is going to follow you around for the rest of your life. The more you hide from it, the worse it will be when you inevitably have to appear in public. You're best to embrace it. Sign autographs if you have to, and people will become so used to your presence that they won't bother you so much. I'm not saying you won't be approached, but not so much if you're around. Right now, you're a mystery to everyone because you've been absent for most of your life. Even now, you're not seen regularly. To them, you're an enigma."
"You make it sound so simple," Potter said with a smirk.
"Because it is."
Potter laughed heartily, an alien sound coming from someone usually so serious.
"I might like to play Quidditch," he mused aloud. "It's probably what I'm best at other than the other stuff."
"You should," Theo encouraged. "I've never been great on a broom, but even I know natural talent when I see it. You didn't start until you came to Hogwarts, and you made Draco look like an amateur. He had private lessons before first year."
"Maybe I will," he sighed. "At least I'll have your sister there to patch me up so I can avoid St. Mungo's."
Theo frowned, and Potter looked at him questioningly.
"What is it?" he asked.
Theo released a deep breath.
This wasn't something he wanted to discuss with Potter, but as the Head of his family, it was not something he could ignore.
"I know about the offer Isabella made you to carry your heir."
"She told you?" he asked, surprised.
"No," Theo huffed. "I overheard her talking to my mother. It was before, well, you know. It wasn't exactly the best place for privacy."
Potter nodded.
"Have you thought about it?"
"How can I not?" he sighed. "I appreciate what she wants to do for me, but…I don't know."
"She said she wished she hadn't asked you. She thinks that's why you've not been around much, that you're trying to avoid her."
"No, that's not it at all," Harry replied. "Wait, she regrets it?"
"Not so much that she wouldn't do it if you agreed, but I think there's more to it than that. For whatever reason, she actually cares about you, Potter, not because of what you've done for us or anything else. As painful and strange as it is for me to admit, she likes you, and I'd be a terrible Head of House and a worse brother if I tried to forbid it. I expect you've had countless offers already, so I'm not going to make you another, but I wouldn't be so opposed to you and her if that were what you both wanted."
"You're not going to try and put a contract in place?"
Theo shook his head.
"I have nothing to offer you that you can't get for yourself," he said with a shrug. "All I have is a blessing and a warning. Either let her down gently if it isn't what you want or don't break her heart. If you do, I will come for you, Potter. Oh, I know you'd spread me across the ground to fertilise the plants, but I will come for you. Isabella is amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have her. If you tell her I said that, I'll burn your house to the ground," he finished with a grin.
Potter laughed once more before he nodded.
"I wouldn't ever hurt her," he promised. "Not intentionally. Believe it or not, I care about her too. As things are, well, you know how fucked up my life is."
"I do," Theo agreed. "Just don't give her false hope. Anyway, it's almost dinner time. Are you staying?"
"I don't see why not. Lead the way."
Theo did so and took in their surroundings.
"You know, you could have picked a much worse place," he praised.
"Well, if I die, it will belong to your sister anyway," Potter chuckled.
"You left it to her."
"I left just about everything to her," he answered. "I promised I'd take care of her, even if the worst happens. Besides, the goblins would only take it."
"They would," Theo replied quietly, taken aback by the gesture. "Greedy little shits."
(Break)
"Could you help me finish setting the table, Isabella?" her mother asked.
She nodded and placed her wand up her sleeve, returning to the house to help prepare for dinner. Isabella had taken to training since they'd arrived. Without any injuries to tend to, she couldn't practice her healing, so she'd resorted to what had been one of her other favourite pastimes during her time at Durmstrang: Duelling.
Her Aunt Rosalina had been a fantastic duellist and had spent hours with Isabella teaching her whilst she was growing up and throughout the summer when she was home from school.
That had been until the woman passed away.
Nonetheless, she'd learned much from her aunt, lessons that would stay with her for the rest of her life.
"Where's Theo?" she asked as she entered the kitchen.
"Walking," her mother sighed.
Whilst Isabella busied herself in her own way, her younger brother occupied himself by exploring the island. Theo had been rather lost since the death of their father, more thoughtful and reclusive.
"Look what I found washed up on the beach," her brother declared as he joined them, followed by Harry.
Isabella groaned internally.
It wasn't that she wasn't pleased to see him, but she had just finished training and had not showered or fixed her hair.
"Hello, Harry," her mother greeted him warmly. "Are you joining us for dinner?"
"Theo told me I had to."
"I did not."
"You shouldn't lie to your mother, Nott."
Theo glared at the but what cut off before he could offer a rebuttal.
"That's enough out of both of you. I won't have you bickering like schoolchildren."
"Technically, Theo is still a student," Harry pointed out. "I'm a professor."
He puffed his chest out proudly, frowning as Violetta handed him some cutlery.
"Well, Professor Potter, setting a table should be no challenge for you, and you will do it without magic," she added as Harry slid his wand into his hand.
"Bloody hell, no wonder you Slytherins are miserable gits," he muttered.
"She takes it easy on you, Potter," Theo grumbled. "She made me spend the day cutting the lawn with a pair of scissors once."
"It was less than an hour, Theodore," Violetta chided. "You know why I did it?"
"Why did she do it?" Harry murmured curiously.
"Because Theo thought it would be amusing to set off a dungbomb at the breakfast table."
"That does sound amusing," Harry said thoughtfully.
"It was an accident!" Theo protested.
"Well, if there are any repeat performances from anyone, there is a lot of tundra out there that could use pruning," Violetta warned. "Now, wash your hands and sit at the table."
They did so, sharing a conversation that couldn't be heard, though both were smirking as they took their seats, eliciting a glare from Violetta.
"I'm glad you weren't a boy, Isabella," she sighed. "I don't know what I would have done with two of them."
Isabella laughed as Theo shot the woman an affronted look.
"I am here."
"Stop pouting, Nott," Harry huffed. "You're supposed to be a grown man."
"Shut up," Theo grumbled as he busied himself with the plate he was served.
Isabella grinned at Harry across the table.
They'd never been discourteous to one another, not around Isabella or her mother, at least, but it seemed that Harry and Theo seemed to be bonding in their own strange way.
Or perhaps they were just able to tolerate one another.
Isabella didn't know of any interaction they'd had at Hogwarts, but she was aware of the rivalry between Gryffindors and Slytherins, so they'd not likely been pleasant in the past.
"So, you will be returning for your final year next week?" Violetta asked Harry, who nodded in response.
"I will be, and I'm going to arrange for Theodore here to be able to keep up with his own studies. There's no point in him loafing around the house doing nothing."
"I think that's an excellent idea," Violetta declared.
"I'm not calling you Professor," Theo warned.
Harry shrugged.
"Suit yourself."
"I will," Theo said defiantly.
Isabella hid her amused smirk. Both were as bad as any bickering teenagers she'd gone to Durmstrang with. Still, it made for an entertaining meal as they went back and forth, trading light barbs they seemed to enjoy oddly.
"Now, I know it is a little late, and we haven't been able to do much, but Happy Belated Birthday, Harry," her mother offered, summoning a cake from one of the nearby
"You didn't have to," he sighed.
"Nonsense," Violetta said dismissively. "You managed to make Isabella's birthday special. This was the least we could do. It's been under a preservation charm for a while, but it should be fine."
Harry offered her a warm smile, chuckling as he cut into the Snitch-shaped cake and offered the first slice to Isabella.
"Oi, I'm the Head of the Family," Theo protested. "I should get the first slice."
"Well, unfortunately for you, you're not as beautiful as your sister," Harry returned.
Isabella blushed as Harry relented and gave Theo some of the cake before doing the same for her mother.
"Thank you," he said sincerely as he helped himself to piece and dug into it with gusto.
When he was done, he slid the plate away, and Isabella gathered it up with her own, Theo's, and her mother's.
"I'll do that," the other woman insisted, offering her a pointed look.
Isabella nodded.
Having explained the offer she'd made to Harry to her mother, she knew she needed to address it with him, though it was not a thought she was relishing.
Taking a breath to calm herself, she turned to him to find he'd already stood.
"A walk?" he asked easily. "You can show me exactly what my gold brought me."
Isabella followed him from the house, rolling her eyes as she took the lead onto one of the paths that led into a thick gathering of trees.
"One of the other buildings is at the end of the trail," she explained, making small talk. "The other is in the other direction."
Harry nodded, seemingly trying to find his own words.
"I'm sorry," Isabella said as she came to a halt. "For springing what I did on you."
Harry shook his head as he chuckled.
"It took me by surprise," he admitted, "and it's me that should be apologising for leaving it so long. I can't put into words how much I appreciate it…"
"You don't have to say anything else," Isabella assured him.
He waved her off as he took her hand.
"I do," he sighed. "I have thought about it, but I can't bring myself to bring a child into this world that I won't be able to help raise. I grew up without parents, and I would have given anything to have both or just one of them with me. If we went through with this, and I died, that means he has won. Any child of mine would either spend their life in hiding, unable to tell anyone who they are, or fighting a war that I couldn't finish. And you would be caught up in that too. I care about you, Isabella, too much to leave you in that position."
"I know," she sighed. "I don't suppose I really saw it that way."
"No, but you saw it with more honourable intentions," Harry pointed out. "Of course, you considered what it could mean for your family reputation, but you didn't see it in a way of what you could gain for yourself."
"I would have gotten a baby," Isabella pointed out amusedly.
"That you would have raised alone if I died."
"I would have had my Mother and Theo, but that is neither here nor there. If it were what you wanted, I would have gone through with it."
"I don't doubt that," Harry replied with a smile. "I really do appreciate it."
Isabella squeezed his hand before releasing it.
"Theo knows about it," he continued. "He overheard your conversation with your mother."
"He what?" Isabella scoffed.
Harry grinned at her.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing much," Harry said dismissively.
He was lying, and Isabella narrowed her eyes at him.
"Well?" she pressed.
"You know, you look like your mother when you make that face."
"Don't change the subject," Isabella huffed. "What did he say?"
Harry said nothing, and she drew her wand. His eyes widened comically, and he burst into laughter before sprinting into the trees, followed by Isabella, who was determined not to let him get away.
"Potter, don't run from me!" she warned.
Her words fell on deaf ears, and his mocking laughter echoed around her as she continued to pursue him, though she was not entirely sure she wanted to know exactly what Theo had heard from that conversation.
(Break)
He had them laid out on the desk before him: the ring which had already been destroyed, the cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, Tom Riddle's Diary, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, and the most recently acquired locket of Salazar Slytherin.
Tonight, each of these items would cease to be, with both Dumbledore and Harry agreeing they needed to be destroyed lest they fall into the hands of someone else.
Albus sat behind his desk whilst he waited for the other man to arrive, and he did so only a few moments later, looking somewhat carefree.
He hadn't seen Harry much over the past few weeks. With both being busy, their interactions had been brief and limited to discussing the upcoming school year.
There had been no mention of what had happened to Barty Crouch Jr, and Albus did not expect he would get one. However, the changes within Harry were noticeable.
He was still intense and focused, but he was undoubtedly more content, seemingly satisfied the man was no longer a threat against him and had paid for his crimes.
Nonetheless, such a thought was sobering for the headmaster.
It meant that Harry had indeed sought his own brand of justice, and it was all but inescapable that the young man had ensured Crouch could no longer bring misery upon anyone.
"Are you ready?" Harry asked, pulling Albus from his maudlin thoughts.
The older man nodded, gesturing to the Horcruxes, and Harry's expression darkened as he drew the sword of Gryffindor.
Albus took a moment to undo the many protections he'd placed around them, mostly to keep Tom's magic contained and unable to influence any they may come into contact with.
Without his own nullifying the effects, it washed over them, and the cup and locket even began to move as though they sensed the threat that was upon them.
Harry did not hesitate as he brought the blade down on the latter, and the bloodcurdling scream of pain and fury that followed sent the headmasters and headmistresses of the past fleeing from their portraits.
Even Fawkes was disturbed by the resulting magic and took his leave of the perch he had been resting on, disappearing in a gout of fire.
"That's one down," Harry murmured.
Albus nodded, and though he noticed that the suffocating magic of the Horcruxes had lessened, what remained was growing in intensity.
Noticing this, Harry quickly dispatched the others, and the headmaster's ears were ringing uncomfortably by the time he was done. The residual magic was perhaps the most unpleasant he'd experienced and seemed to stain his very being.
"It will pass," Harry assured him. "When I destroyed the ring, it clung to me for days after, but it will go."
"Not soon enough," Albus sighed. "There is only one left."
"The most difficult one," Harry pointed out. "Until we can get the snake, it won't be over. We've seen nor heard nothing of him since that night."
Albus did not need to know which night Harry was referring to.
The Death Eaters attacks had continued, as had the werewolves with the coming of the full moon, but Tom seemed to have gone to ground, likely pondering his next move.
Most of his valuable assets were lost to him, but that made him no less dangerous. If anything, he would be more so as he felt the net closing around him.
A cornered animal was at its' most lethal, after all.
Harry seemed to understand this, and with the snake still to locate and dispose of, the coming weeks, months, or perhaps years would be most telling.
Tom may be currently absent, but it would not remain, and when he did resurface, it would be in what he believed to be a position of power, with an advantage he perceived to be insurmountable.
Nonetheless, much of his biggest advantage was now lost to him, and for the first time in more decades than Albus cared to count, there was an end in sight, a silver lining on the cloud that had hung over Britain for far too long.
"Come Death, come," Harry murmured ominously.
The meaning of such an eerie and even morbid saying was not familiar to him, but it had evidently become a mantra to Harry, and the accompanying coldness that Albus felt wash over him only made the phrase more daunting for whoever it was aimed at.
"The Peverells?" he asked curiously.
Harry shook his head, his expression unreadable.
"Death," he answered simply.
(Break)
He woke with a start, his breathing laboured and feeling suddenly disturbed, as though he had been infringed upon. He could not fathom it, but something felt terribly wrong, and he tried his utmost to remember the dream he was having.
There had been a cloaked figure, seemingly staring at him from within the shadows, and the Dark Lord had felt it, something almost unrecognisable with how long had passed since it had last plagued him.
Fear.
It was an undeniable, abject fear that had gripped him as the figure stalked him.
No spell had banished it, and no magic he wielded could stop it, and then it had laughed at him mockingly before Lord Voldemort woke.
Nagini remained at peace, curled up in front of the fire, her own sleep undisturbed, and yet, not the Dark Lord's. Despite his best efforts to reassure himself, that most unwelcome feeling lingered, one he hoped would vanish as the new day dawned around him.
Falling back into his pillows, he was quickly taken by sleep once more, this one as restless as the last, but without the presence of the figure lurking in the shadows.