The Prisoner
"Take him away," Sirius huffed tiredly, dismissing the Aurors with an impatient wave.
Lucius protested as the two men seized him under the arms and dragged him out of the Wizengamot chambers in which he'd been a prominent member of for more than a decade and a half.
A life sentence with no prospect of freedom was less than the man deserved, but as the Minister of Magic, Sirius had to work within the limits of the laws.
With a sigh, he wrote down the sentence on the sheet and passed it to Tiberius Ogden who signed it before following suit.
The same had been done for Snape, although he would not be going to prison for his part in the attempted prison break, much to Sirius's chagrin.
He'd made the agreement with Dumbledore that his childhood rival, if proven he was truly against Voldemort, would be sent away from Britain for the remainder of the war.
Surprisingly, Snape had done just that, and he was indeed a spy against the Dark Lord.
It had been something of a bittersweet revelation for Sirius who would not deny he'd hoped the man was spying on the Order. He wasn't, and the agreement had reluctantly been honoured.
The pomp and circumstance of the trial had gone ahead, but upon his sentencing, Severus had been given a portkey by Dumbledore, had his wand returned, and would not be seen again for the foreseeable future.
Sirius hoped the man would find something wherever he was that would keep him there permanently.
"Bring in Narcissa Malfoy," he instructed, his expression darkening considerably.
The woman entered the chambers, flanked by two Aurors and doing her utmost to maintain an air of poise, though the heavy bags under her eyes spoke of the trauma being imprisoned had caused her.
"Narcissa Malfoy, you have entered a plea of guilt, is that correct?"
"It is."
Sirius nodded grimly.
"As this is your first offence, and you have not been found to have been marked by the Dark Lord, nor proven to have assisted him in his efforts in a violent manner, your circumstances have been taken into account," he explained. "You are to be fined twenty thousand galleons, and you will serve ten years in prison for the attempted breakout of your son, subject to review when your time for release nears. Do you understand?"
Narcissa merely nodded in response, holding her head high.
"Think yourself exceedingly lucky," Sirius murmured. "Aurors, take her away."
He went through he process of filling in the required forms once more, and again handed the parchment to Ogden when he was done. Much to his surprise, he took no joy in sending his cousin to prison, even if she had always looked down on him ever since he'd been sorted into Gryffindor.
Nonetheless, he didn't expect Narcissa would change over the years she would endure.
Her feeling of superiority was so deeply ingrained in the woman that there was no hope of her ever being different.
Still, his job was done now, and it was unlikely he would remain in his post so long that he would need to address her when her decade passed. No, Sirius intended on seeing the war through, and perhaps remaining on until Britain was in a better position.
Then he would retire and return back to an easy life where all he need concern himself with was whether or not he would bother dressing for the day.
(Break)
Although he was pleased with the outcome of the trials, Harry had endured just about all he could stomach of the Wizengamot chambers to last him a lifetime.
Of course, Malfoy had made a plea that he was not acting of his own volition, that Narcissa of all people had placed him under the Imperius Curse. His absurd claim had dragged the trial out to an unbearable length, but ultimately, he was proven to be a liar via a dose of Veritaserum.
Under the influence of the potion, he'd admitted to a plethora of crimes, extortion, blackmail, bribery, and several counts of murder along with a slew of others.
Lucius would not see the light of day again as a free man, and yet, Harry could not help but think he'd gotten off lightly.
"How did it go?" Susan asked as he arrived home.
"As expected," he replied. "It's nice to see you with some clothes on this time," he snorted.
The woman rolled her eyes at him.
"I said I was sorry," she huffed. "I was expecting you to be in the meeting all day. How was I supposed to know it would finish early?"
Harry had indeed returned home early on the first day of Lucius's trial when they'd been dismissed so they could carry out the necessary task of investigating his claim.
He'd found Susan exiting the bathroom having forgotten her towel.
It had been a shock for both, though she had gotten over it much quicker than him.
They'd barely seen each other since, and this was the first time they'd spoken.
"It's fine," he said dismissively. "I was just unexpected."
"And for me," Susan pointed out. "If I'd have taken my wand, it wouldn't have happened. I suppose it was inevitable really with us living together. It could have been me bumping into you."
Harry chuckled and shook his head.
"Do you feel ready for the rest of your exams?"
"Almost," Susan sighed. "I'll get there soon. Thank you for all the help."
"Well, I'll still be around. I'm not sleeping at Hogwarts, so I'll only be gone during the day."
"I'll make sure I don't forget that. You don't want to come home and find me naked in the kitchen."
"You do that?"
Susan offered him a grin.
"I was joking, Harry," she assured him. "You have your meeting with the rest of the staff today, don't you?"
Harry nodded.
"I'll be back late. I have the meeting and a few other things to look into before I'm back to Hogwarts for the feast tomorrow."
"Anything you need help with?"
Harry shook his head.
"Not that I can think of. I will speak with Flitwick to get some Charms work for you, and Slughorn too," he promised.
"Thank you," Susan replied gratefully.
With that, Harry bade her farewell before vanishing through the fireplace, appearing in Dumbledore's office only a moment later.
"Good Afternoon, Harry," the headmaster greeted him with a smile. "I expect the others will be here shortly. Please, take a seat."
Harry did so around the table that wasn't usually present.
Being here in an official capacity other than that as a student was an odd experience to say the least, and it would take some getting used to.
"I have taken the liberty of assigning you an office," Dumbledore informed him. "It is within the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Unfortunately, as a Professor, you are no longer eligible to earn points for your former house, nor represent them playing Quidditch."
"I expected as much," Harry sighed.
He would miss playing on the team, but as he was no longer a student at the school, he'd already considered that he might not be allowed to play.
"Minerva is most distressed," Dumbledore said amusedly. "Nonetheless, when it becomes public knowledge that you are no longer a student, I am anticipating you will be rather inundated with requests to meet with representatives from the professional leagues. It has been brought to my attention by a few former students that there is considerable interest in you."
"It's the first I've heard about it."
Dumbledore chuckled.
"They are not in the business of making their interests public," he explained. "Professional teams tend to play their hands carefully to avoid finding themselves embroiled in a bidding war. I expect one will ensue for your services, nonetheless."
"Great," Harry muttered.
"Of course, you are under no obligation."
"I know, and my responsibilities here are my priority," Harry assured him.
The man offered him an appreciative smile, turning his attention towards the door as a knock sounded.
"Come in, Minerva," Dumbledore called.
The Deputy Headmistress entered, followed by the rest of the staff who were arriving for the meeting.
Harry did a double take as he caught sight of a familiar face, and the woman smiled at him brightly.
"Hello, Harry," Fleur greeted him. "I suppose we will be sharing our classes."
"You're the Defence Professor?"
The woman nodded.
"Professor Dumbledore asked if I would take the post, and I agreed."
"I bet your father isn't best pleased."
"Hogwarts is safe enough," Fleur said dismissively. "Gabrielle is quite jealous that I will be spending so much time with you though."
"How is your sister? I've not heard from her in a while."
"Busy," Fleur sighed. "She is determined to get better exam results than me,"
Harry chuckled.
"She has asked me to give this to you," Fleur continued, handing him a sealed envelope. "She is sorry she has not seen you over the summer."
"It's been busy," Harry replied apologetically. "For her too, it seems."
Fleur nodded as she took a seat next to him.
Harry had not seen her for the better part of two years now.
Once she had graduated, Fleur had taken a job in France with the Ministry, training to be a Cursebreaker. Evidently, she had finished that particular venture, for the time being at least.
"What made you decide to come here?" he asked curiously.
Fleur shrugged.
"I hadn't really thought about it until Professor Dumbledore approached me," she admitted. "Why do you not think I will be good at it, Harry?"
"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" he returned with a smirk.
Fleur narrowed her eyes at him challengingly.
She was always easy to get a rise out of. Although much had indeed changed since he'd seen her last, some things, it seemed, never would.
(Break)
The residual magic was already fading, though it remained ominous and cold in nature. Every fibre of his being was urging him to leave, but the Dark Lord persevered in his bid to become familiar with what it was Potter wielded.
Death.
The house itself reeked of it, so much so that he could almost hear the screams of agony that had been torn from those who had come here, could sense the tears that had been shed, and smell the blood that still stained the floor and walls.
Worse still, it all belonged to only one man, and it appeared as though it had been flung carelessly around the room, but the Dark Lord knew better.
It had been nothing short of calculated torture and were it not for the fact that it had been conducted by his foe using a branch of magic he knew not, it would be praiseworthy.
As it stood, the Dark lord could not bring himself to applaud Potter for his cruelty, no matter how admirable it was.
Barty had suffered greatly in his final moments, moments that had been drawn out to last as long as Potter could keep him alive.
Lord Voldemort paused as he entered the living area, where he found the place the rest of the blood had been spilled, though used to send a morbid message would be a more apt description.
You're Next, Tom Riddle!
Despite his best efforts to find amusement in the threat, the chill that crawled up his spine took precedence. The words and meaning behind them were credible, and the Dark Lord once more felt the unpleasant col wash over him.
With a snarl, he removed his wand and aimed it towards the bloody statement.
Before he could cast a spell, however, the floor beneath his feet began to tremble, and his eyes widened.
The instinct to flee was now impossible to ignore, and just as he cleared the threshold of the house, he was hurled through the air by a sudden explosion, which sent him skidding across the grass.
Growling in fury, he turned towards the house, his mouth falling agape as he caught sight of the rising smoke towering above the smouldering ruins.
It was the very same cloaked figure that had stalked him in his dream, pointing towards him accusingly before it dissipated.
Nothing remained: no figure, no house, and no smouldering ruins, It was as though it had never been there to begin with, and the Dark Lord questioned if what he'd just experienced had been nothing more than a fever dream.
No, the fear that had plagued him remained, gnawing away at him, and there was no doubt in his mind that it was indeed as real as it could be.
(Break)
"I always knew Snape was a slimy git," Ron declared disgustedly.
Hermione had spent the past years at Hogwarts defending the man, insisting that if Dumbledore trusted him, then they should too.
She had evidently been wrong, as had the headmaster in his assessment of Severus Snape.
She shook her head.
"Who do you think will replace him as the Defence professor?" she asked curiously.
Ron shrugged.
"Dumbledore should just get Harry to do it."
"Do you think he will?" Ginny broke in.
"No," Hermione denied. "Harry won't want to do it, not with the war on. He might not even come back to Hogwarts. He's done with his NEWTs."
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Ginny said disappointedly. "Have you heard from him?"
"He wrote a few times over the summer, but he's been busy," Hermione replied with a shrug. "I did see the article about him taking up his seat on the Wizengamot."
"It's strange to think this is our last year," Ron murmured.
Hermione nodded her agreement as she peered down at the Head Girl badge that adorned her robes. Ron wouldn't admit it, but he was disappointed not to have been made Head Boy. That honour had been given to Blaise Zabini.
She had thought that perhaps Harry would have been appointed. Academically, he had done very well, and students from all houses looked up to him for what he'd done for them throughout the running of the Defence Club.
Maybe he turned it down?
It only added credence to Hermione's notion that he wouldn't be returning at all. It saddened her that they wouldn't be finishing their Hogwarts journey together, though when she thought back to the very first journey they made on the Express six years ago, she couldn't believe how much Harry had changed.
He'd been meek, pale, and lacking in confidence.
In the space of a few short months, that had begun to change. Ever since, he has simply excelled and endured as much along the way as he had achieved.
Already, his tale was a remarkable one, and Hermione was in no doubt that it had just begun.
"You know, it's been peaceful without Malfoy," Ron mused aloud. "Even the rest of the Slytherins have been quiet."
"Because they aren't like Malfoy," Hermione pointed out as they exited the train at Hogsmeade. "Look at them," she urged. "They want this war to end as much as the rest of us."
Ron frowned, though he did not argue with her. Instead, he led them towards the carriages, opening the door and allowing Hermione and Ginny to enter first.
They trundled along the path towards the castle, the majesty of the school not having any of its lustre as it came into view ahead of them.
"It is sad that this is the last time we will do this," Ron sighed. "Everything will change after this, won't it?"
Hermione nodded.
"Have you decided what you're going to do?"
"I'm going to be an Auror," Ron said proudly. "You?"
"I'm still thinking," Hermione huffed. "There are so many things I can see myself doing."
"Well, whatever you pick, you'll be great at," Ron assured her with a smile.
Hermione was taken aback by the compliment. It wasn't like the redhead to speak so freely, but his words were appreciated. He could be dense at times and even insensitive, but she would not deny that Ron had been a good friend to her overall.
"Are you ready for your last sorting?" Ginny asked.
Hermione released a deep breath as she followed the siblings into the castle, and then the Great Hall, smiling as she caught sight of Harry sitting at the staff table.
He had chosen to return. In what capacity remained to be seen, but Hermione knew that Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without him, even if he were absent much of the time.
(Break)
"For those of you who were here when she represented Beauxbatons Academy of Magic as their champion, Fleur Delacour will be familiar to you. Please join me in welcoming Professor Delacour, who has agreed to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."
The students clapped politely for the woman, and Albus waited for the noise to die down before continuing.
"Of course, as you can see, Professor Potter has also agreed to return to the castle this year to teach our first, second, and third years. He will also be running the ever-popular Defence Club once more."
Albus smiled as the students cheered their approval.
"Further to this, Mr Potter will also be acting as Head of Slytherin House."
His smile did not waver as the students were shocked into silence. The headmaster could feel Harry's glare burning into the back of his head. He had not mentioned it to the young man, but he could not help but exploit one of the perks of his own position.
It was his prerogative as to who was the head of each house.
Horace had declined the position, wishing only to teach Potions, and Albus saw it as the perfect opportunity to begin mending the rift between the students clad in green and silver-trimmed robes and their peers.
Harry would show no favouritism, and equally, he wouldn't allow the house he was Head of be bullied or intimidated by others.
Still, Albus's considerations had not seemingly been taken on board by those within the Great Hall, but he stood by it.
Besides, it would amuse him to no end to see the young man squirming whilst their respective Quidditch teams played against each other.
Over the years, Harry had caused him no end of stress and worry, and Albus was not beyond a little petty revenge, something he'd learned from Nicholas during his years apprenticing under him.
"That is all from me, now, off to bed with you all," the headmaster finished with another smile.
(Break)
Harry cursed under his breath as he stalked towards the dungeons. He cursed his decision to return to the castle, cursed Snape for leaving him in this positon, and cursed Dumbledore's irritating smile of satisfaction he wore whilst he explained his reasoning for choosing him to fill the role.
'Harry, Miss Delacour will be looked down upon by many in Slytherin for what she is, and she is a new member of staff. You know the students and which ones you will need to watch. The other professors have a full workload, and I felt you were the best man for the job.'
Harry had simply narrowed his eyes at the grinning man before taking his leave of the office and headed towards the dungeons.
Pausing in front of the blank wall at the far end of the corridor, he released a deep breath.
"Aren't you going to open?" he asked impatiently.
Nothing happened, and Harry fought the urge to remove his wand and blast through the brickwork.
"Open!" he hissed.
He snorted as the wall complied, imagining how amused Salazar would be by this development.
The Slytherins immediately fell silent as he entered, and Harry's gaze swept across them. He ignored the veiled smirk of Daphne and shook his head.
"Alright, let's not pretend that any of us are happy about this. I found out the same time as you," he explained. "You all know who I am, and I know most of you. Some have been coming to the Defence Club, and others have been a pain in the arse since I came here six years ago. From tomorrow morning, we will have a clean slate. I'm not a student here anymore, and you will afford me the same respect as you do any other member of staff. Is that clear?"
He received a murmured response.
"I didn't quite hear that."
"Yes, Professor," the students replied reluctantly.
"In return, I will treat you all fairly unless you give me a reason not to. I expect each of you to work hard in your lessons and set an example for the rest of the school. I will not tolerate any bullshit, and I will not hesitate to put you in detention if I feel the need to. Otherwise, I will be here to help you in any way I can. As I said, from tomorrow, it will be a clean slate. So, if anyone has anything to say to me, now is the time."
Harry waited, though none spoke, and he nodded satisfactorily.
"As I'm sure you are aware by now, Zabini is our Head Boy for this year. He is on hand to assist you all, as are the Prefects. If there is something they cannot help with, they will come to me. Any questions?"
"Did you really kill a giant?" a diminutive first-year asked.
"Of course he did," another answered. "It was in the newspaper. I saw the pictures."
Harry released a deep sigh.
"Anything else?"
"When will we get our timetables?"
"At breakfast tomorrow. If there are any issues with them, my office can be found in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom on the fourth floor. I suggest you all get some rest. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow and a bloody busy year," he added before he left the common room.
(Break)
Sirius was laughing hysterically at Harry's misfortune, and he vowed to buy Dumbledore an extra gift for the coming Christmas for pulling such a well-planned prank.
"Don't laugh, it's not funny!" Harry huffed, his reflection in the mirror one of petulance.
"Come on, Harry, it is funny," Sirius snorted. "This is a good thing, and he did have good reasons for choosing you. You could be the difference between some of them joining Voldemort or turning away from him."
Harry shook his head.
"I know," he sighed irritably. "Anyway, I need to go. I have more than enough to be getting on with before the morning. We will catch up soon."
"Take care, Harry," Sirius replied with a smile before ending the connection between the mirrors.
It had taken them considerable time to form a bond of substance, and for a while, Sirius didn't think it would happen. By the time he had come back into Harry's life, he'd been thirteen years old and had spent most of them without parents.
Whether it was a paternal relationship they shared didn't matter to Sirius. He was just grateful to have the young man around him.
Harry reminded him so much of both James and Lily, even if he was very different to both for the most part.
Still, he had grown deeply fond of Harry and had been from the very moment he'd held him in his arms as a babe.
"How is she, Kreacher?"
"Not good, Master Sirius," the elf answered. "Kreacher thinks Mistress Bellatrix is dying."
The potion regimen had been ceased months prior after the woman had suddenly begun convulsing. Snape claimed that the potions had weakened her, allowing an illness she'd contracted in Azkaban to take hold.
Slowly but surely, her resistance to anything was waning.
Bellatrix slept mostly, and when she wasn't sleeping, she simply stared ahead of her with bloodshot eyes, her mind addled by whatever was destroying her.
"Maybe it is for the best if she does," he sighed. "I don't think there's anything that can be done for her."
Poppy had said much the same when she'd completed a check on the woman.
Nonetheless, Sirius did find it rather fitting that Bellatrix had all but lost her mind, given what she had done to Frank and Alice Longbottom.
No, the world would be a better place for not having his cousin in it. Now, it was just a matter of time before the disease prevailed and sapped her of what remained of her life.
(Break)
Being in hiding had taken its toll on them. Day in and day out, being trapped in the same walls was draining at best, and James could not deny it was having a detrimental effect on their marriage.
Oh, they loved one another deeply, and even the damned prophecy had somehow brought them closer together, but it felt as though neither had any space when the need arose, and the petty bickering and arguments over things that didn't matter were tiring.
"Born as the seventh month dies," James murmured as he tried to calm the restless Harry.
What if Dumbledore was wrong?
The prophecy was not set in stone, and much of it made little sense. It didn't seem to relate to his son at all.
Nonetheless, he wouldn't risk anything happening to his family, not when Voldemort seemed to be intent on finding them.
On the few occasions they had seen Sirius in the past year, the man had spoken of how many times the Death Eaters had attempted to kidnap him. He too was now in hiding at James's urging, and it had been months since the Potters had received word from the man.
James hoped he was well and not doing anything reckless.
If the absolute worst were to occur, he would need Sirius to take care of Harry.
There was no other he trusted more with the life of his son.
"How is he?" Lily asked from the doorway.
"Finally resting," James whispered with an apologetic smile.
It had been another argument that had woken Harry, the raised voices disturbing his slumber.
"We are going to be okay, aren't we?" Lily murmured worriedly.
"Of course," James assured her. "None of this is easy, and we are bound to grate on each other at times, but we will be fine. Maybe one day we will look back and wish we were locked away from the world again."
"I can think of worse people to be locked away with," Lily returned with a smile of her own.
James grinned as he laid the baby in his cot.
"We made that," he chuckled as he wrapped an arm around his wife.
Lily nodded.
"It seems as though we somehow managed to make another one."
James froze.
"You're pregnant?" he asked dumbly.
"I am."
James could only shake his head as his gaze drifted towards their son.
The timing was terrible; neither would deny that, but equally, there was nothing that would make either of them happier than bringing another baby into the world.
"What are we going to do, James?" Lily asked.
He tightened his grip around her and offered an easy smile.
"Whatever it takes," he answered simply.
Harry was dumbfounded as he was pulled from the memory. Seeing himself as a baby always left him taken aback, but this was an unexpected development.
His mother had been pregnant the night Voldemort had come for them.
He remained in a state of shock for several moments, trying to make sense of the warring emotions he was experiencing. Life had not been easy for James and Lily Potter, but they'd managed to find something to be joyful about, something to look forward to in the months of misery they were enduring.
Tom Riddle had taken it all away from them, had murdered both and an unborn child.
Anger.
Harry felt it coursing through his veins in a way he'd never experienced before. He prided himself on his ability to remain poised, even during the most trying of times, but now, all of his work in the Mind Arts was failing him.
He needed to vent, to unleash what it was that was continuing to build inside him.
If Voldemort were here now, he would be perfect, but the Dark Lord was hiding in the shadows once more.
Nonetheless, Harry needed to let it all out, to unburden himself of that ice-cold, righteous fury that was occluding his thoughts.
With only one destination in mind, he vanished into the shadows, his fraying temper hanging on by barely a thread.
(Break)
Working a night shift in Diagon Alley was his least favourite part of the job, especially when it was so quiet. Cedric had learned that when things were at their most peaceful was when something unpleasant was on the cusp of happening.
"It's just a cat," he assured Tonks, who had startled at the sound of the animal climbing across some nearby bins.
She nodded and put her wand away.
"Are you okay?" Cedric asked. "You've not really been yourself today."
"I'm fine," Tonks huffed irritably.
Cedric frowned but said nothing else, and they continued on their patrol.
"I'm not fine," Tonks sighed.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm bloody pregnant."
Cedric blinked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.
They'd come to a stop and the two of them stared blankly at one another, waiting for the other to react.
"Oh," Cedric eventually murmured.
"Oh?" Tonks questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, I don't know what I'm supposed to say," Cedric said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "No one has ever told me they're pregnant before."
"I've not been pregnant before," Tonks returned evenly.
"How?" Cedric asked. "We've always been careful."
"Not careful enough," Tonks grumbled.
"I can't say I was expecting this."
"I wasn't either!"
Cedric held up his hands placatingly.
"I know," he murmured. "I'm not trying to blame you. I was there too."
"Well, I didn't get myself pregnant, did I?"
"I don't even think a metamorph can do that," Cedric replied with a smirk.
Tonks glared at him.
"It's not funny, Diggory!"
"I know," Cedric said apologetically. "What do you want me to do?"
"I just want you to tell me that it will be okay."
He'd never seen her so vulnerable, and he took her by the hands and gave them a squeeze.
"It will be okay," he said reassuringly.
"Will it?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
Tonks shrugged.
"I might be crap at being a mother. I don't even like babies."
Cedric chuckled.
"I can't imagine you hating your own child. Besides, you'll have me to help you."
"You're not going to do a runner?"
"Do you think I would?"
"I might think about it if you were pregnant."
"You have such a way with words, Nymphadora," Cedric snorted amusedly.
She flared her nostrils at him.
"Don't push your luck, Diggory. I think we've both done that enough, don't you?"
"You're probably right," Cedric sighed. "I don't think I'll be joking much when you tell your mother. Maybe Harry could hide me for a while," he added thoughtfully.
"You mean when we tell my mother," Tonks corrected. "You get to explain why her daughter is pregnant out of wedlock. She was a Black, remember? She won't take the news well."
"Bloody hell," Cedric cursed. "I forgot that we'll have to tell people."
"Well, it's not easy to hide a baby."
"We could run away," Cedric suggested jokingly. "I hear Japan is really nice."
"No," Tonks sighed. "My mother would find us. We're just going to have to face it."
"Bugger," Cedric muttered. "We could just get married before we tell them."
"Don't joke about things like that."
"Who's joking?"
She eyed him suspiciously.
"If that's your idea of a proposal, you'd better come up with something better."
She offered him a teasing grin before turning away, and Cedric nodded to himself.
He was in no doubt that he'd fallen in love with the woman, and though he hadn't even considered marriage let alone children, until much later, fate, it seemed, had other ideas.
"Fine," he said to himself as he followed the currently pink-haired woman. "Fine."
(Break)
He was breathing heavily as he surveyed the damage around him. If he were to ponder whether or not he felt better, Harry would say he did, but it wasn't enough.
The room on the seventh floor of Hogwarts had borne the brunt of his rage, and still, although he was tired, it wasn't enough.
Everything he had kept buried within him had surfaced; the murder of his parents, the prophecy, and every last misfortune he'd suffered throughout his life.
It ran through him so coldly that it burned, and no amount of breathing could pull him back from the brink.
Destroying things had not helped, but perhaps righting one of those wrongs would.
Harry wasn't convinced.
Nonetheless, he'd made a vow to himself some years ago now. Most had paid for that transgression against him, yet there were others, and one he'd been as keen to settle the score with more than any other.
Fading into the shadows, Harry quickly found himself looking into the cell belonging to Lucius Malfoy.
There were certainly perks of his godfather being the Minister of Magic.
The blond looked miserable enough, shivering in the cold room, alone and without the comforts his life had afforded him. His wife was experiencing similar circumstances, as was his son, for his own crimes.
Harry cared not for Draco or Narcissa. They would serve their sentences and move on in life, but not Lucius.
With a wave of his wand, Harry silenced the room before entering.
Lucius turned to look at him, and the man chuckled.
"Have you come to kill me, Potter?"
"Yes," Harry answered simply, "but not just yet."
"Well, I would say the Dark Lord was wrong about you," Lucius said humourlessly. "He thought you to be weak. Oh, you've been lucky facing him thus far, but that luck will run out. You cannot defeat him."
"Maybe not," Harry replied carelessly. "Tonight isn't about Tom Riddle. We will meet, and one or both of us will die, the difference is, Malfoy, that I do not fear it. Death is freedom from all the burdens that life places upon us. You'll be free of them soon enough, as will your son and your wife. Legilimens!"
Malfoy had made to lunge at him, but the spell froze him in place, and though he was met with considerable resistance, Harry tore through the man's mind, claiming each and every memory pertaining to Voldemort Lucius possessed.
There was an abundance of them from their very first meeting to the last in which Lucius had received his final instructions.
When he was done, Harry withdrew from Lucius's mind and looked upon the man with utter disgust.
To him, murder had been sport, and he had carried out dozens of them over the years.
Harry's own hands were far from clean, but he'd only killed those that he believed deserved it. Lucius was undoubtedly amongst them.
The man was clutching his head as he whimpered on the ground, and Harry levelled his wand at him once more.
"Imperio."
Lucius's eyes glazed over, his broken mind offering no resistance now.
"I would love nothing more than to see you suffer for every last thing you've done to me and everyone else, but I have no intention of spending my life here," Harry murmured. "I suppose I'll have to settle for the world remembering you as the coward I know you to be. I'll be sure to give Draco and Narcissa your best," he finished callously.
He truly had no intention of harming either of them, but Lucius believing he would in his final throes of life was not something Harry could deprive himself of.
"Now, let me set you free of your burdens, Lucius," Harry murmured coldly.