Note: So, things might get a bit darker from now on... this is, after all, a story about revenge and its consequences.
Hope you enjoy it!
(...)
December 28th, 2005
Southern France
He expected anything, but not the top of a mountain. And snow. A lot of snow. He utters a heating spell, searching for Hermione.
It takes her a few seconds to appear and when she does, he smiles in greeting. She doesn't, though. Harry frowns, walking to her.
"Are you okay?" He asks.
He missed her this morning.
Harry had a hard time waking up and he still feels a bit sleepy even after hours out of bed. Maybe he drank a bit too much, maybe what he shared with Hermione was so intense it made him want to curl up into a ball and stay in bed.
And differently from what he thought, Chiara didn't go after him. He knew she was there at the Villa, but she stayed out of his way, maybe not wanting to have an unpleasant surprise if Angela was still with him.
Hermione nods at his question. "Yeah, just a bit tired."
But he narrows his eyes. There's something off. He takes a step closer, his hand on her cheek. "What's wrong?"
She opens a tight smile. "Nothing. I just had a hard time explaining myself to Asmo."
His hand drops immediately at the mention of this stronzo. Hermione flinches at the way he takes a step back and crosses his arms. "So, which house?" He asks, looking down from the top of the mountain to a little Wizarding Village where he can see a few houses.
"That one." Hermione points out to the furthest one. It's small and ugly, as if it doesn't want anyone approaching it, which is probably right.
"Let's go, then."
He's already moving when he feels her hand on his arm. He looks back at her. "We're going to interrogate him, not torture him for answers." She states.
Harry purses his lips. "Of course."
If what Sirius and the others said is true, Lestrange probably won't remember much about what happened, but he hopes they're able to get from him where the other Aurors are hiding. Harry wants to confront all of them.
"Charm yourself." She says in a low voice, her eyes avoiding his.
For a brief moment he wonders if she's acting strange because he crossed another line when he told her what he loved about her. At the heat of the moment she got carried away, but maybe now, after seeing her fiance and such, she feels awkward about it. Maybe she even pities me.
He doesn't like the thought. He doesn't want her pity. Not now, not ever.
Gulping, he uses a spell to mask his face and in a second they apparate closer to the house. Harry hears Hermione murmuring a concealing spell around them and slowly they approach the back of the house, their eyes searching the surroundings.
The sun is setting and darkness is taking over. There's no wind and it's pretty quiet around.
"Wards?" Harry asks when Hermione raises one hand to stop him from approaching any further. She nods and before he can even detect the wards she's already tearing at them.
"The moment they're down, we apparate inside." She says.
Harry waits, one heartbeat, two. He can tell when the wards are gone and immediately they apparate.
He barely has time to think.
A spell is coming his way and it's Hermione who deflects it. Harry sets his jaw, acting on instinct and trying to stun the man at the other side of the living room.
It all happens pretty fast and in a strange, yet imposing, silence. Lestrange is a trained Auror and even if they caught him by surprise, the man gives them a hard time in being subdued. Instinctively, Harry and Hermione circle the man, spells flying everywhere-
Until Harry loses any coherent thought when Lestrange directs an Avada Kedrava towards Hermione.
Grunting and with an overwhelming rage, Harry sends spell after spell towards Lestrange, barely letting the man breathe. And that's when he finally finds a way of taking Lestrange's wand, immediately petrifying and strapping him to a chair.
All in one swift move.
Hermione stops by his side. Her eyes wide. Impressed.
But Harry wants to know if she's okay. If she's in one piece- she only nods curtly before he even asks something.
"Who are you? What do you want? You'll pay for this, you'll-"
Hermione gags Lestrange with a flick of her wrist. Then she turns to the man, her eyes finally leaving Harry's. For a while she stays there, looking at Lestrange… making him uncomfortable.
"Tell us about the Potters' Persecution." Her tone is firm, secure, her voice a bit altered in order not to be recognizable.
She lifts the gag and Lestrange curses. Then he calls her a whore and Harry takes two steps and slaps the man's face so hard the sound echoes through the living room. Harry is practically hissing.
"Answer us." He says, close to Lestrange in a menacing posture.
Hermione doesn't move behind him, instead she crosses her arms and watches the scene.
Lestrange finally zooms in on Harry. The man is old and ugly, his face scarred from the years, his beard unkempt and dirty. Not to mention the way he stinks.
Just because he can and because it'll satisfy him, Harry slaps Lestrange again. Hard.
"There's nothing I can tell you!" He spits some blood on the floor. "I had my memory erased and-"
"I don't believe you!" Harry takes another step closer, ready to strike again. "No one has their memory erased and remembers it. So, you must know something."
Lestrange snarls, noticing how he gave himself away. Harry slaps him again. This time Hermione comes to his side, though, her hand on his arm, clearly a warning to stop.
Finally the man laughs hysterically. "I knew this day would come. I knew it. I told Tom. I said someone would discover what we did." He keeps laughing.
Harry grits his teeth. "What do you mean? What you did?"
"It's hazy. The memory of that night. But the whole Persecution was a scam."
Harry takes a step back. Shocked. His heart is beating extremely fast.
"Explain." Hermione demands. Lestrange makes a face at her, clearly not satisfied to be in this situation, at the mercy of a woman.
"Since the start Riddle knew where the Potters were. All the way. But he wanted to make a show out of everything, wanted to create an enemy for the people to support him, to portray the Potters as criminals, for their murders to be accepted. Of course they never posed a threat to society. Why would they?"
Harry is barely breathing. And he can't find his voice.
"How he knew from the start? Their location?" Hermione asks.
Lestrange gives her a nasty look. "What if you sit on my lap and maybe I can give you-"
Harry strikes him so hard his own hand throbs. And this time Lestrange grunts in pain, spitting more blood.
"If you even look at her again I'll kill you." Harry says silently.
And he must sound as mad as he feels because Lestrange gulps, nodding.
"Answer the question." Hermione says in a neutral voice.
Lowering his eyes, Lestrange says, "When James Potter was interrogated, Riddle placed a permanent tracking spell on him. He already imagined Potter would flee. And then he pretended not to know where they were to test his friends' loyalty."
Harry swallows hard. "Which friend betrayed the Potters?"
"In the end it was Pettigrew. He wanted to side with Riddle."
Hermione looks at Harry briefly and he purses his lips. He already knew. Sirius told him. Asmodeus also said the same thing on that first day. Hermione herself thought it had been Peter. But to hear from one of the Aurors-
Suddenly he feels blind. This man. This nasty man in front of him was there that night. If he didn't kill his parents himself, he helped, he watched and did nothing to stop.
With all his self control, Harry asks in a low voice, "What happened that Halloween night?"
"I don't remember." Lestrange shakes his head.
Harry punches him now. "Maybe I can help you remember-"
Hermione pulls him back and with a wave of her hand she puts a silencing spell around both. "You're crossing a line." She says firmly.
He narrows his eyes at her. "You can't be serious."
"I am." She holds his gaze. "I also want answers. But I don't think you hitting him to a pulp will do you any good." She gives him a pointed look. "I'll use Legilimency."
Harry crosses his arms and says nothing. He only watches while Hermione turns back to Lestrange and prepares herself to invade the man's mind. He gets what she means by crossing a line. But he can't let this go. Lestrange is right there in front of him. One of the Aurors who he's been searching practically all his life.
Harry wants to make him suffer. Wants to give him a slow death.
And that's when he already knows he'll come back later without her to end this. He'll be the one writing Iustitia on the wall this time. For his parents.
Hermione is breathing hard in a clear effort while she tries invading Lestrange's mind.
With a low groan she pulls back, shaking her head, two fingers against her temple. Harry holds her by the arm, worried.
He puts the silencing spell around them for her to talk. "Someone erased his memory from that night." She says. "From the Persecution the only thing he knows he already told us. The whole operation was a lie. They never went out on the field to search for the Potters." She presses her lips together. "And he hasn't seen or heard about the other Aurors since the end of the Persecution."
Harry sets his jaw, looking at Lestrange. The man is crying. Hermione probably invaded his mind with brutality and it will take a while for him to recover.
But this can't be. It's not possible. He wants answers. He needs them.
Hermione squeezes his arm and his attention goes to her. "We should go. There's nothing else to learn here." She looks exhausted.
And just because it's her, he nods. But this isn't over. Far from it.
Not minding in untying Lestrange or even looking at him a second time, Harry embraces her and apparates both back to the top of the mountain.
Hermione sighs. Harry still has his arms around her in a protective way. And for a while they say nothing.
He's the one who finally moves and with one hand cups her face. Hermione looks at him and Harry doesn't even think when he kisses her, their lips coming together gently. There's a need for her inside him. A need he's not sure he'll be able to ignore from now on.
Not now that he accepted his feelings. Not now that he knows and understands how much he loves her.
She pulls away slightly, her face still close to his. "I should go." Her voice is strained and that same pain swims in her eyes. Harry gulps.
"I missed you this morning." He says.
She doesn't react. "I have something to tell you."
He sets his jaw. The last time she said these same words she communicated she was engaged. But this time it's another thing entirely.
"I broke into my father's office at the Ministry. I have the file concerning the Persecution."
Harry stops breathing. "And?"
"I know where the other Aurors are." She looks down and takes a step from him. "We'll go to them together." He nods.
"What else did you discover? Something worth mentioning?"
"There isn't a report on what happened that night." She exhales heavily. "It's the biggest mystery and I imagine the only way we'll discover what happened is finding an Auror that didn't have his memory erased."
Harry crosses his arms, sighing. "Do you…" He wets his lips. "Do you have James Potter's interrogation?"
"I do." She looks beyond, into the sky. "I'll give it to you when you get back to London. And then we'll investigate the others."
He nods. He feels his chest heavy. Harry has no idea what to expect from this interrogation, but something happened, because after this James decided to run away with Lily.
"Hermione." He calls her and she turns to look at him. "If there's something you want to tell me, or if there's something you want to ask me…" He trails, not totally sure of what he's saying. "I trust you, you know that, don't you?"
He wants to tell her everything. But not just that, he can feel something is wrong. Very wrong.
She nods and puts a hand over her heart. The left hand. The diamond ring is there. The concrete proof that she wants someone else, someone other than him. Hermione pockets her hand when she notices him staring at the ring.
"I have to go." It's what she says. And that knife, that fucking knife is back, going deeper into his heart. "See you back in London, okay?"
She doesn't even wait for an answer. Hermione is gone before he can even blink.
Harry clicks his tongue. Right now he doesn't want to think about her odd behavior. He wants to focus on the fact that Hermione indeed was the one who broke into Riddle's office. She took the file. She knows everything there is to know about the Persecution and he can't wait to put his own hands on those papers, read what was put into permanent records about the investigation and his parents.
He keeps looking at Lestrange's house and, taking a deep breath, Harry apparates back inside.
The man is still there, a few tears rolling from his eyes. Harry lifts whichever spell he casted on his own face.
"Look at me." He says to Lestrange.
Whining, he does. "I told you-" He stops, his mouth hanging open. Lestrange gulps. "Who are you?" He whispers, his eyes widening, his face turning pale. "No. It can't be. It can't be. No. No."
Lestrange keeps repeating the words while Harry moves closer, a vicious smile on his face. "It can. It is." Harry forces the man to look into his eyes. "I'm Harry Potter. And I'm going to kill you."
He punches Lestrange. So hard he hears bones cracking. The man wails, his jaw dislodged.
"I used to dream of the day I would find you. You and all the others who murdered my parents."
Since his jaw is ruined, the man can't talk, but Harry is sure he's begging for mercy.
Harry laughs a nasty laugh. There's a rage and a darkness inside him he can't control. His only desire is to hurt the man in front of him. "I'm sure you were merciful with my parents. With Lily Evans. The Mudblood you considered vile." Lestrange is shaking his head. "Don't worry. I'll be just as merciful as you were."
Lestrange screams. And he keeps screaming.
D'Angelo Villa
He goes directly to his room, his mind reeling. In a beat he takes his clothes off and throws them into the fireplace, then he heads directly to his bathroom, not stopping until he's under the cold running water. Harry blindly scrubs his arms and hands and face and any place that was remotely splattered by Lestrange's blood.
And as he washes himself, he sobs. It's an ugly cry that he has no control of. Harry totally lost it the moment his bloodlust was gone and he had to face what he'd done to Lestrange.
He bites hard his lower lip, holding back the sobs and screams. He feels dirty and corrupted. Killing Lestrange didn't give him the satisfaction he was so eagerly craving for. On the contrary, if anything he feels worse than before.
Numbly casting a silencing spell around his whole room, Harry lets out a scream. It's the definition of despair.
He punches the tiles, cracking his knuckles open, bleeding. He punches again.
Another scream. Another desperate cry of help.
He has no idea how many times he punches the tiles. But when all his strength is gone he crumbles down, sitting under the water and crying, hugging himself like a baby. Rocking his body and trying to calm himself.
It's hard to come to terms with the fact that even if Lestrange deserved to die, his death won't bring his parents back.
And this notion destroys him a little bit.
Harry opens his eyes. After his breakdown he curled into bed and fell asleep.
He looks at the clock. It's 2am.
Rubbing a hand on his face he summons some clothes and heads down to the kitchen for some water.
The mansion is silent. Chilly. Dark. Or it's Harry that feels that way now. He walks slowly, thinking about what he's about to do. He's been ignoring this little detail, but after what happened, after what he did to Lestrange, he needs to see his parents, needs to remind himself why this revenge exists, why he took it upon himself to end those that murdered the innocent couple.
Harry stops in front of the door that leads to a concealed room. One he didn't show Hermione, one he avoided since he stepped inside the Villa.
The door clicks open when he touches it and with a shuddering breath he enters the cold room. As expected, the only light inside comes from the pensive in the middle. Harry presses his lips together and utters a Lumos. The room lits up instantly and his eyes fall at the many drawers on the back wall.
Memories.
Matteo has a fascination with them. His grandfather likes to watch some when in doubt about which decision to make. Matteo's, Bianca's, Marcello's memories have their own drawers, which only them can access.
But there's one that's Harry's. He stops in front of it. Since he was five Matteo tried convincing him of depositing his memories there, things he never wanted to forget or moments he cherish and might want to revisit and keep it safe from others. But Harry never liked the idea. It felt… unnatural.
He opens the drawer with a soft nudge and bites his lower lip when the vials glow before his eyes. They're all there, the ones his grandfather found with that orphan baby.
Harry knows them by heart. But he's ready to see it all again, ready to look for clues he never noticed. He gulps and fetches the vials, at least twenty.
The pensive is quite luxurious and Harry conjures a high stool for him to sit in front of it. He'll be there for a few hours and he wants to be comfortable. As comfortable as he can be.
Lining up the vials in front of him, he exhales and takes the first.
Harry emerges from the last memory with a headache. It's 5:30am. He's been there for more than three hours and he feels overwhelmed. It was far harder watching them now after he went to the house, because now he knows how it truly feels to be there.
Tears are running down his face and he's shaking.
And his first instinct is to reach for the coin inside his pocket. He closes his eyes, exhaling, inhaling. Of course he wants Hermione in a moment like this. Of course he wished she could be there with him. He would give anything to share this with her.
He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head and dismissing the thought.
Going through all these memories wasn't easy. Or nice. Moments of his first days when his parents would only lie down in bed with Harry between them, watching in awe their little baby. Moments of Lily breastfeeding him with a smile on her face and James by her side performing spells to create toys for Harry. The memory of Lily humming the lullaby he remembered and danced with Hermione. Moments of James talking alone with Harry while Lily slept. Those were some of the worst to watch. James talked with certainty of the life they would have: grow old together, be there to watch Harry turn into an accomplished adult, be there at his wedding, be there to hold their grandchildren.
So much was taken from them.
So much was taken from Harry.
And yet-
He groans. Yet he loves a Riddle. Yet he wants to be with her. Yet he wants to tell her everything.
What… what would his parents think of this? He swallows the lump on his throat. It's the first time he lets himself think about it. Wherever they are, do they feel betrayed by their son? If things weren't so fucked up, would his parents approve Hermione? Would they get along? If they were alive, would they also hate the Riddles with all their hearts?
Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. It's uncomfortable to feel bad for loving her, but not entirely unexpected. It's the first time he blames himself because it strangely feels like he's tarnishing his parents' struggle and sacrifice to be together.
With his eyes fixed on the vials, he considers everything he went through these past months with Hermione. She doesn't have his parents' blood on her hands. If anything, she's helping him uncover all the lies around the Persecution, even against her father's will and by doing so putting her own neck on the line. Is it logical for him to hate himself when he feels so safe with her? When he trusts her so profoundly? So much to a point that he's considering telling her everything? Does her surname define who she is?
Wouldn't he be a hypocrite for thinking so?
Because one thing he knows. He knows he wouldn't like telling her his true name and having her judging him for it.
Harry sighs. "Mum, dad, if you can hear me…" He's whispering, his head down, "I'm sorry. I- I don't know what to think but… I trust her. I really do. I love her and… maybe I wish I didn't." He closes his eyes. "But this changes a few things. For me. For my revenge." He runs another hand through his hair. "Killing her would kill me. Just the mere thought of-" He chokes. "I'm sorry." He repeats.
And he cries again.
He knows Hermione would suffer if Harry spared her but killed her family. It doesn't even cross his mind ending her anymore, but…
It's a never ending cycle. She would want to avenge her parents. He knows.
Harry slams a hand on the marble around the pensive.
He can't think of this now. He can't bear. Not now.
There are four Aurors who Harry still wants to meet before he entertains the idea of going after Riddle. And even so, before Riddle, there's Pettigrew. Harry fists his hand. The mere thought of this rat ignites a murderous rage inside him.
Now he knows that Pettigrew's betrayal wasn't crucial since Riddle knew their location, but even so, the man willingly gave it away… aware of what would happen. Bastard.
So, no. He won't think about Hermione and about her family and how this whole thing became a mess even more complex than he imagined at first.
Taking a few deep breaths, he focus on what made him relive those memories.
Clues.
Anything unusual. Anything he might have missed the first one hundred times he saw them.
Conjuring a notebook and a pen from thin air, Harry writes down:
- photo album?
- letters?
- white book?
- toy?
He makes a face at the paper. It's not much. Practically anything at all, but these were the only things that stood out to him.
It's a blow to realize that he needs to go back to the house. Alone. But in a way it's something he should have done already.
He rereads the four lines.
In a few memories he saw his mother holding a photo album, something he never stopped to look at twice because in each memory it appeared, it was James' and his father never looked at it, he always admired Lily looking at it instead.
Then, in another memory, James was sitting at the table writing down a letter. His focus solemnly on it while Lily laughed at Harry's attempts of getting his father's attention. Surely there must be some hidden inside the house. Old letters. Not just inside the house but… Sirius said they used to exchange letters… is it possible that he still has any? He's not sure old letters might be useful, but, regardless, he would like to read them.
He clicks his tongue. This white book. He saw it in every memory. In all of them the book was sitting close to his parents. In one of them Lily was reading and shut it with a thud when James approached with Harry. He wasn't able to see the title, but it's a huge book and it seemed important. Harry knows he didn't spend that much time inside the house with Hermione, but he would remember seeing such remarkable and imposing book. So, if it's still inside the house it must be hidden. And if it is, it holds some significance. It must.
And the toy. Differently from the other things, he saw the toy only once. In one of the latest memories, a few weeks before that fateful Halloween night. Harry tried his best to see what he was holding in his tiny hand while James and Lily were teasing each other about how stubborn their son would be, but he failed. His baby self was clutching it against his body in a vicious grip, as if the toy was precious and if Harry had to guess… it looked like a bird. A red and yellow bird.
A phoenix.
And just like that his mind is already back to Hermione.
Her tattoo. His tattoo.
Deep down he knows it's not a coincidence. She knows. But he can't imagine what it is, then. What it means. Why.
Harry closes his eyes. Is he missing something vital here? Not seeing it? Seeing it and ignoring? Not recognizing? What is it?
What is it that connects him to Hermione?
Letting out a heavy breath he stands to put the vials back inside the drawer. From the way she dismissed the subject, Hermione is not very interested in finding out what it might mean and maybe Harry should let it go.
Maybe it is just a coincidence.
But when he thinks about what the phoenix means and associates it with what Ron told him about Riddle's experiments on Hermione… she suffered a lot. The same way Harry did. Both did. For different reasons.
Yet.
Here they are.
At the same place.
Same time.
Tangled in a mess.
Or maybe this mess is only his. Maybe she doesn't see things that way. After all, she's marrying Pettigrew. Regardless what they shared or how he might feel… Hermione is not choosing him.
But. At the same time he's not asking her to. He's not telling her how he feels and what he wants.
He stops at that. What does he want with her? What would be possible for them to have? A real relationship? With that much prejudice from her family just because he's a foreigner? Imagine if he stepped up and took his heritage? Hermione would surely have to choose between him or her family.
He clicks his tongue.
There's nothing he can ask of her and nothing she can give him. That's the harsh truth.
With a heavy heart he walks out of the room.
His feet hit the cold floor, his head is spinning, his body feels exhausted. And when he reaches the stairs, he stops, gripping the fancy rail.
For a moment, a brief and fleeting moment, he wonders how it would feel to leave this all behind. To forget this revenge and stay in Rome. Stay and go back to his life. Go back to his people. Back to Chiara. His parents lost their chance at happiness and-
After what he did yesterday to Lestrange and how it wrecked him, he knows this path won't be filled with happiness and good things. It's a dark path. A door that's impossible to close after it creaks open.
Blood. Rage. Death.
That's what awaits him.
And heartbreak. He purses his lips.
The image of his parents flash before his eyes. He can't let this go. He's doing it for them. For their memory. For the injustice of it all.
Harry sighs. It's just a bad day.
And as he takes the first step, he knows he'll go through with this. No matter the cost.
December 30th, 2005
D'Angelo Villa
Harry claps. A smile splattered on his face. One he forced himself to put on since he woke this morning and that so far is working.
They're all there. The D'Angelos. Distant cousins and uncles and aunts and people he never saw before, along with his grandfather and his mother and father. And of course Chiara and her family, the Ferris. Their influence at the Ministero is huge and this particular detail was the sole reason to ignite the fight he had with Matteo when he called off the wedding. A marriage between the Ferris and the D'Angelos was bound to take Wizarding Italy by storm. The dominance would be indisputable, their heirs practically kings and queens bound to dominate fully.
But well, she had to go and fuck Carlo. Who, by the way, is also there. The sudden urge to punch the man matches his never ending desire to break Pettigrew's nose. But Harry politely greeted him and walked away. This is in the past… even if Harry glances at Chiara non stop, his eyes trying to catch her near Carlo. But they haven't even looked at each other. Harry doesn't know if that's real or another one of her many ways to pretend that what she did never happened.
So, he keeps clapping.
It was just announced that Matteo D'Angelo is the new Ministro.
The international press is there. This is being broadcasted all around and just to imagine that Hermione might be at Riddle Manor watching with her parents makes him anxious.
Chiara stops by his side, still clapping. She looks absolutely gorgeous in a golden strapless dress that shows a hint of the lion on her back and the entirety of the bear on her left shoulder and arm. Harry's not ashamed that his black suit and golden vest were made to match with her outfit. And he's sure that while they stand there side by side they're the perfect picture of a couple.
She says nothing and they stop clapping at once when Matteo raises his hands in the air. A smile on his face. He's already wearing a cape that shows off his new position.
And he's about to make a speech.
"Grazie mille!" Matteo begins his speech in Italian and Harry is sure a spell is being used to translate his words simultaneously. And while his grandfather talks about the support he received these past weeks and how eternally grateful he is, he brings up everything he believes needs to change in their society.
Harry raises an eyebrow and shares a look with Chiara when Matteo starts talking about the Mafias. It's their most problematic and touchy subject. Many Ministros avoided addressing this issue directly, fearing a violent response, but they can't keep ignoring how many the Mafias kill and how this destroys them from the inside. Chiara is probably having a hard time dealing with everything since she's Head Auror now and for a moment Harry fears how this speech might make things even harder for her. She makes a face at him, probably thinking the same. He can't help smiling a bit.
And then Matteo is talking about Muggleborns. Harry grits his teeth and stiffens on the spot. He can't have a real reaction about this. Of course Riddle is keeping an eye on him. The same as Hermione. His grandfather is saying how he aims to bring justice and proper rights to Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. Even if in Italy things are way better than in England, prejudice still exists and as Matteo keeps talking, his main purpose is to change this, to show the whole Wizarding World how they can only gain when bringing any wizard or witch into their community, regardless their blood and ancestry. Harry pockets his hands. It's a bold and incredible move.
Next Matteo voices his wishes to tighten Italy's international relationships. And how he believes the International Wizarding Order will help him do it. Harry and Chiara share another look. By the way she shrugs it's clear she never heard of this before now. The Order rarely interferes in such affairs. Of course it exists with Wizards chosen around the world to represent each country to act if needed, but their role is more bureaucratic than anything else - just a reminder for Ministers that might try seizing power in forbidden ways.
After that Matteo finishes his speech with a blow that Harry is sure will come his way the moment he steps into British soil. Mixing of bloods. Muggles and Wizards. Together. This time Chiara discreetly holds his hand behind their backs. She knows he'll face some retaliation in the hands of Tom Riddle and her eyes are begging him to stay there, where he belongs. Harry just shakes his head, squeezing her hand. Chiara bites her lower lip. Matteo keeps talking about how they could enter a new era.
And then it's over. And they're all clapping again.
Harry sucks in a breath. He's fucked. Riddle will roast him because of this. And Matteo is smiling at him. Brightly.
Fast enough Matteo, Bianca, Marcello and Chiara's family are all there and Harry sees himself seizing her by the waist for them to take a photograph. One that will be plastered everywhere. Probably at the Prophet. He widens his smile, his hand squeezing Chiara by his side. His own family on the other side, Matteo in the middle.
While a few flashes strike, Harry can only think about the conversation he can't delay anymore. And he has no idea what Matteo D'Angelo will do when he discovers that Tom Riddle is investigating the family.
Seeing that everyone was distracted by the party, Harry found the perfect opportunity to sneak into his grandfather's study. He can't tell how many hours he spent there throughout his life. If not just studying, also talking with Matteo about his dreams and how he would fulfill his revenge and bring back the honor to the Potters.
He was once a child and teenager with big aspirations.
Harry brushes his hand against the shelves and couches, his steps echoing inside the silent room. He feels bad for leaving so soon. Feels bad for leaving his mother and not having another chance of seeing his friends. He can even say that he'll kind of miss Chiara.
It's impossible to tell what awaits him in London. What he'll find after this speech and the many photographs that were taken. Not to mention that he even gave an interview where his new position at the British Ministry was questioned. Harry wanted to hex the reporter, but he smiled and answered as vaguely as possible.
The Wizarding World knows that things are a bit tense in London.
And while there none dares speaking of Tom Riddle, here Harry already lost the count on how many people approached him to say something awful about Riddle and his family or even just to make fun of the snotty Purebloods. It felt good hearing certain things. But not everyone at the Ministry deserves this kind of harsh judgment the Italians are so ready to profess. Harry's been there for months… it would be unfair to say that everyone follows Riddle blindly. Not even his own daughter does so.
"I thought I might find you here."
Matteo D'Angelo is at the door and Harry turns to face his grandfather. The man closes the door behind him and walks calmly inside, settling on one of the few armchairs.
Without a word Harry fetches a bottle of Firewhiskey and pours some into two glasses. Neat. Then he walks to his grandfather, extending a glass and sitting by his side.
The two don't talk for a while, their only action the sipping.
Harry decides he should be the one to break the silence. "Congratulations." He says in a low voice.
"Thank you, Harry."
He sighs. "Why, nonnino? Why now?"
"You may think I'm doing this to get in your way or to make things harder for you, but believe me, I'm actually doing this to help you."
Harry keeps watching the sky. From where they're sitting he can see the stars through the big windows, clearly. Matteo is also looking outside, both refusing to fully acknowledge the other.
The words sink in slowly. "Help me?"
"You think Tom Riddle doesn't have his eyes on you?"
"Of course he does."
"Exactly. I'm here, as Ministro today to show him that he's not the only one who can wield some power. To make him think twice before he tries anything against you. He knows that if he does I'll consider it an act of war."
"Do you want war? Is that your final goal? Invade London and seize the British? End their sovereignty?"
"I want a better world, Harry. That's my goal." Matteo finally turns to look at Harry. "If they stand in my way, they'll suffer the consequences."
Harry clicks his tongue. "Riddle won't allow this. Don't forget he has the best Aurors in the world by his side."
"And are you one of them? Against your own grandfather? Was that all it took? Two months for you to fall at their feet? To protect the family who ended yours-"
"I didn't say I would protect them." He says through gritted teeth. "But war isn't the answer. Never."
"Maybe you should come back home, Harry."
Harry frowns. "I still have many things to do in London."
Matteo scoffs. "Surely. And are you ready for it? To do whatever it takes?"
Harry narrows his eyes. This is about Hermione. Somehow. "I am." It's all he says. And a flash of Lestrange's desperate face comes into his mind. Blood. All that blood. Harry sets his jaw.
"If you want to tell me, I want to listen about what you've been doing there. How things are going." There's just a hint of annoyance at the man's voice. Of course he considers an absurd that Harry isn't reporting his every step. In fact, Matteo knows nothing of what's going on in London, at least not from Harry's mouth.
He ponders. There's a lot he can't share with Matteo, but… "I killed Lucius Malfoy." He says slowly, sipping after.
Matteo has no reaction. "I heard he was dead. Good riddance."
"He almost killed me." This time Matteo turns sharply. "He recognized me."
"Is that so?" Matteo squints. "Who else did?"
"Pettigrew." Harry stops at that. He can't talk about Sirius and the rest because he made a Vow he wouldn't. "But I think he's waiting for the best moment to use this information. Even so, he needs proof. I don't think he has any."
"You can't let yourself be caught. One interrogation under Veritaserum-"
"I know." Harry snaps. "I won't be caught." Harry sighs. "I- I saved Hermione Riddle's life."
Matteo clicks his tongue. "I know. Everyone knows. Why?"
Harry inhales deeply. Why indeed. "To gain their trust."
"Smart. Did it work?"
"Obviously. Since I'm here still breathing. Riddle can say whatever he wants, but that is a debt he knows he has no way of paying. He owes me eternally." Harry knows that deep down this is true.
"What else?"
"He's losing it. Purebloods are on his neck because of the attacks. His Manor was invaded. I saved a squib and her mother from a Dementor's kiss right under his nose. A Muggle was butchered inside the Ministry."
Matteo widens his eyes and chuckles venomously. "Apparently you're not the only one who has a score to settle with him."
"It seems so." Then he stops for a moment, "I found the Aurors."
Matteo shows some honest surprise. "And?"
"Two are already dead." He takes a sip. Matteo is watching him with awe. Harry knows that deep down his grandfather thought he wouldn't have the stomach to go through with it. "And I- I went to my parents' house. I never thanked you properly for… taking care of it."
"I would do it all over again, Harry. I would save you again. All the times that were necessary."
Harry presses his lips together and lowers his head. The truth of these words shake him. To think that he's in love with Hermione Riddle is-
"I'm thinking about marrying Sally Black." He's not. At all. Not anymore, but well.
"What about Chiara?"
"Chiara made a choice, nonnino. She chose to cheat on me."
"If it wasn't for that do you think you would be with her now? Married?"
"Yes." He has no doubt. "I loved her very much."
Matteo sips. "She still loves you."
"She makes that pretty clear every time we're in the same room. But she'll get over it."
"Are you in love with Sally Black? Ready to marry into the Blacks? Is that what you want?"
Harry sighs. "No. It's not what I want. But I might be forced to it."
"By Riddle?"
"Yes. He… wants me far away from his daughter."
"Ah. I see. Care to share why?"
"We… danced the Traditional together and apparently there's a thing called Perfect Harmony that seems to be a big deal." Harry watches his grandfather's reaction.
Matteo only raises his eyebrows and leans forward to put the glass on the little table in front of them. "Is that so? We never believed in these kind of superstitions. But I guess it is indeed a huge thing for them. Riddle must hate you fiercely. Because if even after this he wants you far from his daughter…" He clicks his tongue. "From what I know having Perfect Harmony is certainty of marriage."
"She's marrying Asmodeus Pettigrew." Harry says, his voice firm, but his heart trashing inside him, the knife twisting further.
"Yes, I saw the news."
Harry remembers Chiara gave him the Prophet because Matteo asked her to. Crossing his arms and sighing, Harry says:
"I'll find the other four Aurors and end them. And then, I have Pettigrew to deal with."
"And then the Riddles." Matteo completes for him.
Harry takes another sip and turns to his grandfather. "Then the Riddles."
"When the time comes, I'll be there, Harry. By your side. As Ministro. Ready to end his tyrannical rule. Ready to end the threat he poses to us all. Ready to exterminate his bloodline."
Harry discreetly gulps. "I- there's another thing I need to tell you. Riddle is investigating you. The family. Asmodeus was sent here to discover anything he might use against us."
Matteo swears. Harry smiles. It's odd seeing his grandfather losing control, and rare. "That stronzo. This only shows how he might be the one to attack us first. Have you thought about this possibility?" Harry sincerely shakes his head. "But regardless, I don't think Pettigrew discovered much, you know how well guarded we are."
"I know. And he didn't."
"Who gave you this information?"
"Hermione." He says.
"You're close. Real close." Matteo provokes. "I'm not judging. She's not her father. I know that if she were you wouldn't be this… confused." Harry makes a face, glad his grandfather has the decency of not saying that he's in love with her even if he suspects. "I told you once and I'm going to say it again. Be careful with her." Harry nods. "But well, if you trust what she told you, then… I'll trust your judgment."
Thing is… "Yeah, I trust her."
Matteo shakes his head. "Would she stand against her father for you?"
Harry remembers the way she stood in front of him in a clear protective stance inside that cell under the Ministry. He saw the rage swimming in Riddle's eyes. But that was only an isolated situation. He shakes his head. "I don't know."
"I hope you do know before it's too late."
"I do too." His voice is barely there. She was acting so strange when they went to see Lestrange…
"When do you leave?"
"In three days."
Matteo nods and stands from his armchair, the cape with the Ministro's symbol flowing behind him. "I hope we enjoy these next few days. Now that this election is over, I want to spend some time with you, Harry. If that's what you want."
He nods curtly. "Yeah, I would like that."
And Harry stands too. Not thinking much about it, he hugs his grandfather. Matteo corresponds immediately and Harry feels lighter, a bit happier. But they don't say a word. And Matteo steps away first, exiting his own study and inviting Harry back to the party.
Running his hand through his hair, he goes.
END OF PART TWO