Felt cute, might delete later. The first of the fourth.
PLEASE NOTE: Changes have been made to the final scene of Chapter 20, 'Eyes of Scarlet, Eyes of Ice'. The changes are of relative importance to the future of AFiF.
FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE GOING TO RE-READ AFiF BEFORE CONTINUING - Feel free to point out any scenes or chapters that you feel could use a rewrite. My writing style has changed over the years, and I hope that my growing skills are reflected in my work.
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Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.
The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Desolations of Destiny
I. A Sea of Blurred Lights
Laughter rang across the Burrow. Neville smiled as his eyes traversed the shabby wooden kitchen, his heart beating happily in his chest.
"Relax, my beloved Ronniekins." one of the twins was saying, "It'll wear off in a week or two -"
"GEORGE, YOU SORT HIM OUT, YOU SORT HIM OUT THIS INSTANT -"
George rolled his eyes. The table watched as he turned to Fred, reaching for something in the pocket of his robes.
"You'd have thought she'd be grateful." he murmured quietly, though Neville still heard him quite clearly, "He's much more pleasant to look at now."
Ron, his tongue having grown all the way down to his toes, looked positively furious.
"Justh gimmie tha bloothy antidothe -"
"Speak up, would you?" Fred demanded, "It's hard to understand you -"
"- and not just because you've got the grammatical skills of a five year-old troll -"
"FRED!"
"I know, I know." Fred yawned, jumping to his feet. He quickly turned to Ron, taking a vial of orange liquid from George. His fingers curled around the cork, pulling it open and holding it over Ron's mouth. Fred grimaced with disgust.
"I'd say open wide, but I expect it doesn't really get much wider than that -"
Ginny giggled. They all watched as Ron's tongue shot back into his mouth, slapping him square in the face as it rose.
Crack.
"That'll be them!" Mrs. Weasley jumped up from the table, running to the door. Neville turned to the grandfather clock in the corner, then back to those closest to him.
"They're not normally this late, are they?"
"Not usually." Ron muttered, rubbing his jaw, "But you can't really be surprised, what with everything that's happened."
Neville nodded solemnly. The faint outline of the Daily Prophet that sat in the corner of the room suddenly felt more vivid. Neville could just barely make out the picture of golden flames that covered the front page.
"I'm sure it's fine." said Hermione, "Hogwarts is still one of the safest places in Wizarding Britain, and probably the whole world altogether."
Ron didn't seem particularly convinced.
"There's Dumbledore, too." Ginny added, "Surely that helps reassure everyone?"
"I suppose." Ron nodded. He turned along the table, "Oi, Bill!"
Bill, Charlie, and the twins - all of whom had been laughing as they huddled around the bright purple wrapper of the Tongue-Toffee - turned to him.
"What is it?"
"Are the Hogwarts wards the most powerful in the world?"
Fred and George rolled their eyes.
"Not this again," one of them murmured, "You're acting as though we'll all be killed in our sleep -"
"At least mum isn't around." Charlie added quietly, "She's been worried sick."
They all turned to Bill, who summoned the copy of the Daily Prophet towards him with a flick of his wand.
"In terms of sheer power, perhaps." he murmured thoughtfully, "Although I haven't seen nearly as many wards as some of my colleagues -"
"You're a Curse Breaker, right?" asked Hermione.
Bill nodded.
"I work for Gringotts. Most of the time they send us to places like Egypt or Italy to look through old temples and ruins - the sort of places that'd be littered with all sorts of nasty enchantments. It's our job to break through the wards to get the prize hidden inside. We even get a commission, too."
He paused, frowning.
"The Hogwarts wards aren't like that, though. They're not as clever, or tricky, or misleading, or anything like that. Just a shit ton of magical power, designed to keep out the wrong sort. I'd expect the only way to really damage them at all would be through brute force."
"It isn't as bad as they make it sound, though." Charlie yawned, "They only damaged a very small part of the wards, whoever they were. The northern parts of the Forbidden Forest, wasn't it -"
"East." Bill corrected tiredly, "But you're right. I probably wouldn't worry much about it, either."
"Why not?" Hermione frowned, "You'd think someone using Dark Magic like that at Hogwarts would be pretty concerning."
Bill shrugged.
"Fiendfyre exists to destroy. And it did. That isn't exactly surprising, is it?"
"But it was gold, Bill, it was different -"
"Paranoia, Ron." Bill mumbled. He leaned closer, "Listen, a special color isn't necessarily an indication of strength -"
"But it has been before, in the past -"
"How many times?" Bill challenged, "The only recorded instances are of Slytherin, Morgana, Loxias, and Grindelwald. And I suppose Dumbledore too, depending on who you believe. There just isn't enough information for it to be indicative of anything. For all we know, someone just figured out how to change the color. It isn't like it'd be too hard."
As if to prove his point, Bill brandished his wand before him. A flame burst to life at the edge of his wand, shifting from orange to green and back again.
"The Ministry's saying the same." noted Charlie, taking the copy of the Daily Prophet from Bill, "They seem to think Lestrange figured out some way to mess with the color. For the sake of fear-mongering, and all that."
Neville tensed. At the end of the table, Bill nodded thoughtfully.
"I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that were true." he said slowly, "Though I imagine it'll be too boring a conclusion for Rita Skeeter?"
"Yup." Charlie grinned, brandishing the paper, "Listen to this: 'An expert, who has chosen to remain anonymous, suspects Lestrange may have created a unique potion that enhances one's magical prowess. When questioned on this, Minister Fudge faltered, eventually providing no comment on the matter.' I'll never understand how she hasn't yet been assassinated."
"That isn't even how it works." Bill murmured exasperatedly, "If I didn't know any better, I'd wonder if she knew a thing about magic at all -"
"Bellatrix fought in the first war, didn't she?" Ron interrupted, seemingly lost in thought.
Bill nodded slowly.
"Yes, obviously."
"Did she use Fiendfyre then?"
Charlie shuddered.
"Often." he murmured, "We used to hear about it on the Wizarding Wireless."
"Why wouldn't she have done her color-changing stunt back then?" Ron asked seriously, "It would help spread fear, wouldn't it?"
Bill frowned.
"It's possible that she only figured it out recently," he began, pausing, "But after more than a decade in Azkaban, I doubt it. Odd."
"She only ever used it in Muggle raids." Neville answered quietly, "When it didn't matter who lived and who didn't. It isn't like muggles would've understood the difference."
Ron nodded, frowning.
"I don't know, then." Bill cracked his neck, "It's a bit suspect, but if I had to put my money on it, it's still the theory I'd go with. Some of the others are utterly ridiculous."
"Like the one mum's worried about?" asked Fred.
A tense air settled around the table. Neville forced his gaze to his pale fingers, watching as they pressed tight around the rough wooden edge.
Lady Voldemort.
"You-Know-Who didn't use Fiendfyre much, did she?" Hermione whispered, "During the war?"
Bill shook his head.
"Not that I know of. Not that I was fighting in it, mind you."
"It doesn't sound like her style." Charlie muttered, "The Killing Curse seems much more up her alley."
"How'd you know that?" asked Ron, bewildered. Charlie smiled sadly.
"We grew up in the midst of it." he answered softly, "You'd hear that sort of thing all the time, whether you wanted to or not."
Hermione flinched.
"Do you think it's her, then?" she asked uncertainly.
Bill shook his head.
"Doesn't make sense. And besides, Dumbledore would have done something by now if he thought it was. Honestly, the Ministry's theory with Lestrange is the only thing that really makes sense. It's what I would've thought, too. And it presents a clear motive, too."
"And that is?"
"To spread fear." said Bill simply, "It's exactly the sort of thing you'd expect from Lestrange. And no one else has a real reason to do something like this. Why risk a lifetime in Azkaban if you're not already on the run anyway? And who else would risk it for something so pointless?"
Neville frowned. A blurred face slipped along the forefront of his mind - pale and skinny, bedecked with thin-rimmed circular spectacles and messy black hair. He watched as the boy stumbled over his Invisibility Cloak, hiding behind where Bellatrix stood.
"It couldn't have been a student, could it?"
They all turned to him.
"No, it couldn't." Bill smiled weakly, "I don't know much about how Fiendfyre works, but I doubt there's a child out there capable of using it, especially not without accidentally getting themselves killed."
"I dunno, actually," muttered Charlie curiously. His fingers rubbed thoughtfully against the underside of his chin, "It wouldn't surprise me much if Dumbledore could've done it at a young age. Same for Grindelwald, and You-Know-Who."
"Maybe." Bill frowned, "But it doesn't exactly seem probable."
"Maybe it was Dumbledore." said Fred speculatively, "He did seem awfully furious with the dementors being at Hogwarts. Didn't the flames burn most of them to ash?"
"A seventh of Azkaban's defenses." murmured Bill, "Fudge's fuming, so I've heard."
"Maybe he just decided he'd had enough. I know I would've done it."
"That's why you're not headmaster, dear brother of mine." George yawned.
"Quiet, you two." Molly strode back into the kitchen with another scarlet-haired freckled male following in tow, "Percy's just gotten of work, and Arthur will be home any moment now, he's still at work -"
"Bagman wanted to talk to him." Percy said, sinking into a chair, "He said it'd be quick."
"Evening Perce." Charlie said with a grin, "Had fun at work?"
"Does Mr. Crouch finally know your name yet?" Fred chimed in, "' Fetch me a cup of tea, Weatherby' -"
The entire table snorted into what remained of their dinner plates. Mrs. Weasley glared angrily at Fred from the kitchen stove, her hands on her hips.
"What?" he asked, bewildered, "It's my name too. I'm just defending our family's honor, that's all!"
"You do look tired, though," Bill noted as he leaned closer. The edges of his lips fell slightly, "They're not overworking you, are they?"
"A bit, I suppose." Percy admitted, fixing the hem of his Ministry robes, "But the Ministry's got a lot on its plate, and not just because of the Fiendfyre fiasco -"
"We were just talking about that." noted George dully, "They've sorted it out though, haven't they?"
"Oh, they sorted it out ages ago." said Percy, "But it's not a very good look, not with the Quidditch World Cup and - certain other events coming up."
George rolled his eyes, sinking back into his seat.
"Please just tell us whatever the stupid event is." George pleaded, turning to Bill and Charlie, "He's been doing this all summer, the stupid look on his face has been driving me ill -"
"Hermione and I were trying to figure out what it was earlier." Ron noted, "We're pretty sure it's some sort of international event -
"We know." moaned Fred, "We worked that out ages ago. It's happening at Hogwarts too, whatever it is."
"It better not be something dull." George warned, "If I find out you've gotten my hopes up over some stupid Annual Muggles Studies Tournament I'll feed you to Errol."
"Relax." Charlie laughed, "It'll be exciting, you'll see. I wish I could be there myself."
Mrs. Weasley frowned.
"I don't know." she murmured, "Arthur says there's been debates with the age restriction. I really don't know what they're thinking -"
"Mum, it doesn't matter." Bill assured her, "It chooses the best candidate, doesn't it? So even if it does choose someone on the younger side, they'll probably be fine -"
"Fine at what?" Ron inquired, though he was outright ignored.
"And if one of your brothers is chosen?" Molly hissed, her fingers arching towards Fred and George, "Merlin knows those two will try to compete -"
"Compete in what -"
"Come off it, mum." Charlie snorted, "It won't be one of them. And even if it is, they'll be fine. You know damn well Dumbledore won't let anything happen to them -"
Crack.
"Molly?"
"Coming, Arthur!"
Mrs. Weasley rushed to the door, leaving the table in silence. Fred and George quickly rounded on Percy.
"Tell us already, you pillock." George muttered, "Go on."
"I'll send another love letter to Penelope Clearwater in your writing." Fred added threateningly, "I'll even add kisses and hearts this time -"
"This time?" asked Percy indignantly, "You've done it before?"
"Before you two started dating," murmured Ginny in between mouthfuls of Treacle Tart.
"It backfired, though," admitted Fred disappointedly.
"We never realized someone could possibly be attracted to someone so utterly repulsive and slow -"
"Evening all!" called Mr. Weasley cheerfully, sinking into the seat at the head of the dinner table, "Everyone behaved themselves? I've got a bit of a surprise if you have!"
Mrs. Weasley rounded on Fred and George before turning to her husband.
"Your sons have created another one of their little pranks." she told him seriously, "They stretched Ronald's tongue to nearly six feet -"
"Er - that's to be expected, I suppose. But no one's done anything unusually bad, have they?"
Molly glared at him, but the Weasley children, Neville and Hermione all shook their heads. Arthur smiled back at them.
"Well, I've just had a talk with Ludo." he said, leaning in, "Ludo Bagman, I mean. Old friend of mine from the Ministry, you know. He wanted to thank me for helping out his brother, and since he'll be commentating at the finals -"
Arthur pulled nearly a dozen sheets of thin parchment from his pocket, each outlined in thick gold ink. The entire table collectively held their breath.
"We're going to the Quidditch World Cup!"
A chorus of laughter and shouts rang through the house as they all burst into thunderous applause.
-(xXx)-
Splotch.
Crackle.
Harry tapped at the radio. For a moment, it looked ready to spur back to life - but it slowly fizzled out beneath the rain that trickled gently atop it. Harry frowned at it, puzzled.
It's Wizarding Wireless. It doesn't even run on electricity.
Yet the radio remained as stubbornly silent as ever. Harry sighed, pushing it aside before turning back to examine the sea of lights below him.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Beside him, Hedwig barked in agreement.
It was dark here, up atop the roof of Little Whinging's only secondary school. The building was far taller than most others in town. The street lamps below glimmered through the night sky like stars, sparkling beautiful shades of yellow and pearl.
Splotch.
Harry's head pressed gently against an old pillow he had nicked from Dudley's room. A warm, almost cozy feeling sparked in his chest as he leaned back. His eyes slowly slipped away from the glimmering lights, falling upon a small stack of oddly shaped packages to his right -
Splotch.
Harry cursed. His fingers wrapped gently around his wand, though they uncurled almost at once.
"No wands." he reminded himself dryly, "The Ministry will know."
Uncle Vernon would actually kill me if anyone from the Ministry had to sort me out.
A forced chuckle tumbled from his lips. Harry looked up at the sky, watching as an uncountable sea of droplets fell from above.
Stop.
Nothing happened. Harry frowned, sitting upright.
Stop raining. Around me, at least.
Something stirred in his chest - it was hot and tight, like a claw curling around his heart. The air stilled for the slightest of seconds, and the rain ceased to pour - but by the next, it was falling twice as hard. Harry grimaced, gritting his teeth at the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.
"Fine. An umbrella, then. That's fair, right?"
The world blurred. Harry watched as the air curved in on itself, producing something violet and black. The umbrella dropped to the floor, quickly bursting open. Harry caught it just before it could ride along the winds and out of sight. He leaned forward, placing it between the secondary school's chimney and Dudley's worn out pillow. He frowned as the umbrella's panel crumpled against the brick.
It looks like merch you'd get from the Knight Bus.
Harry ignored it, turning back to the stack of packages beside him. They were beginning to get damp from the rain. Harry pulled them closer, quickly ripping the first one open. A parchment covered in familiar choppy writing met his eyes.
'Harry,
Just a birthday treat. I got them from Hogsmeade since I know you weren't allowed to visit. Tell me which ones you like, I'll keep them stocked up for whenever you visit.
Wishing you the happiest birthday,
Hagrid'
Harry laughed, pocketing the letter before unraveling the package of sweets. He recognized them all at once - he'd pocketed sweets from Honeydukes just about every time he'd snuck through the secret passageway that led into Hogsmeade.
A pale envelope poked out from within the stack. Harry pulled it closer, opening it with a tap of his finger. Daphne's handwriting stared back at him.
'Dear Harry,
I'll be in Diagon Alley on the sixteenth of August. My family will be there, too - Astoria, and Mum and Dad. They want to meet you. Don't blame me, either - Astoria's been talking about you all summer. That's probably for the best if I'm being completely honest. If not you, she'd have mentioned Luna Lovegood. I don't think Dad would've liked hearing about Astoria's friendship with Lovegood very much.
I wanted to see you, too. We can do our school shopping afterward and catch up. There's a lot I've been meaning to ask you. Besides, it'd probably be nice if you had a real birthday celebration for once. We can do that too, if you'd like.
With love,
Daphne
P.S. - I'm holding your present hostage. I'll give it to you after you meet my parents if you're nice.'
Harry pocketed the letter, smiling despite the butterflies that fluttered inside him.
"Meeting mum and dad." he whispered aloud, pausing, "Fuck."
The other presents were far less nerve-racking. Another package of sweets from Nott - though these were all Chocolate frogs - and even a short card from the Weasley twins.
At last, a deep brown envelope was all that remained. There was no address.
Harry frowned, slowly tearing it open.
'For Harry,
From me. And her, even if she won't say it.
Happy Birthday'
There was no signature - not that Harry needed it. Harry held the letter up to his glasses. Rain darkened the thick parchment, and something small and thin slipped from behind it. Harry summoned it with a wave of his hand, inspecting it. His jaw went slack.
'The International Quidditch Association is proud to present the 422nd
Quidditch World Cup
Finals
Bulgaria V. Ireland
VIP - Admit I
The Quidditch World Cup is proudly partnered with:
Gringotts Wizarding Bank / Butterbeer / Firebolt'
The ticket was pale, its edges adorned in a golden finish. Harry quickly flipped it over. There was nothing on the back.
From Bella. And from Voldemort, too.
Harry stared at the letter, almost waiting for the voice to return. High yet cold, smooth like butter, and carrying a silky, feminine grace.
But it didn't. No face formed before him. The girl with the scarlet eyes never appeared. Harry nodded to himself, his lips tight.
"No hallucinations," he noted dryly.
I haven't had them for a while. Not since I've started taking Occlumency seriously.
Harry turned around, holding the letter up for Hedwig to see.
"What do you think? Should I go?"
Hedwig stared at him, nonplussed. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Right. I forgot."
He stared at the ticket. His finger pressed roughly against it, silently pleading for him to rip, to tear, or to burn -
No.
"It doesn't matter who it's from." Harry decided with a faint smile.
I'm going to the Quidditch World Cup.
-(xXx)-
"Ah, thank you, Petunia."
Uncle Vernon smiled as she lowered a plate heaped with steak and mashed potatoes. He quickly popped a forkful into his mouth, sighing at the look on Dudley's face.
"Petunia's idea, Dudders," he said, shaking his head.
"Smeltings', actually." Aunt Petunia corrected, sniffling, "The school hasn't got any clothes Dudley's size anymore.
"I've called them already." she added, looking at Dudley, "But they won't make their uniforms bigger."
"Ruddy school." Uncle Vernon mumbled through a mouthful of steak, "Must've not expected to see a lad as big and strong as you, eh?"
He laughed, dipping his fork back into his food. Harry stared at his own plate. What looked like half a grape sat upon it, accompanied by a rather lonely-looking apricot and a number of blueberries.
"Why've you got me dieting, then?" he asked irritably.
Aunt Petunia frowned at him.
"Diddykins needs all the moral support he can get." she sniffled, "And you ought to be grateful of what you get -"
"Grateful." Harry grimaced, "If it weren't for Hogwarts, I'd look like the poster boy for UNICEF -"
Dudley half-snorted into his plate. Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, went stiff - just as he always did whenever Harry's school was brought up.
"I told you not to mention that - that place under my roof," he said irritably.
"It's a good thing you mention that, actually." Harry scooped what remained in his hand into his mouth, swallowing it all in a giant gulp, "I was planning on leaving soon."
"But?"
"But," Harry repeated, grinning, "You've got to sign something first. That form that I asked you to sign last year."
"The permission slip?" Vernon grunted.
"That's the one."
Harry sat back, watching as the gears turned in Uncle Vernon's skull. After a few moments, the man leaned in, pushing his plate aside.
"Your Aunt and I were planning to drive up to London - Grunning's opening up a new office there. We'll be taking Dudley with us, obviously. Stay for a few days -"
"I can be out today." Harry added quickly, "You won't have to introduce me to anyone if I'm not here."
Uncle Vernon glanced at Petunia, nodding.
"Right. Go get that ruddy slip -"
But Harry was already gone. He quickly dropped his plate in the sink and ran up the stairs, stealing a bit of food from Dudley as he passed. The floorboards creaked beneath him as he jumped up, his door screeching as he swung it open. Harry felt the smile slowly slip from his face.
Books lay askew across the wooden floors. His robes were all over the place, and both quills and empty ink bottles were hidden in every corner of the room. Past it, the street lights shimmered through the open window, shining brightly beneath the night sky.
Harry searched the room, his eyes eventually widening as a crumpled sheet of parchment slid into view. Harry pulled it towards him with a wave of his hand.
'PERMISSION for VISIT to HOGSMEADE for
Harry Potter
This document hereby serves to state the aforementioned
third-year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
is permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade at such a time
that the school arranges, and with the signature of the undersigned
parent or guardian.
The student shall abide by all such rules & regulations relevant
to such expeditions and set by the school as per article 528/Z
of the 1714 Edict.
Print Name ...
Relation ...
Signature ...'
Pocketing it, Harry glanced back at the rest of the room.
In the trunk you go.
A few robes flew in, as did a number of textbooks scattered amongst the floor. Harry winced as they banged into one another, crashing into his trunk in the most impractical way possible.
"I'll have to practice that one," Harry muttered to himself.
Harry quickly ran across the room, tossing in a few extra things he'd forgotten. He paused as he approached his bed. Two books poked from beneath the loose floorboard under his bed.
Emily's stuff.
He reached for them. Emily's notebook sat on top, looking as old as ever.
"I haven't needed you in a while," Harry admitted curiously. Still, he tossed it into his trunk all the same.
Just in case.
The diary remained in the palm of his hand. Harry studied it, ignoring the uncomfortable tightening of his chest. His eyes slipped over the tattered leather he had cursed more than a year prior.
The hole was nearly gone now.
Harry frowned, tossing it into his trunk as well.
Only a few other things were added to his pile. A book on Occlumency, the curse book he'd taken from the Chamber of Secrets, and the many letters from Daphne, Nott, and the others. At long last, he slammed the trunk shut.
That's everything.
"Minus the map." Harry muttered, "Astoria's got that -"
And my Invisibility Cloak. That one's with Bellatrix.
Harry sighed, popping a Chocolate Frog into his mouth.
His trunk swung wildly as he hobbled down the stairway. He'd tried to charm it lighter, obviously - but his chest still ached from packing. Harry dropped it at the foot of the stairs, heading into the kitchen with his form in hand.
"You'll be going now, then?" Aunt Petunia muttered, confused, "But you've got nowhere to go."
"I had somewhere to go last year." Harry said indignantly, "I'll have somewhere to go now, too."
Uncle Vernon pursed his lips. Harry had to stop himself from smiling at the image of Aunt Marge floating high above Number four, Privet Drive.
"There." he spat, tossing the form back at Harry, "There. Off you go then, run along now -"
"Cheers." Harry grinned, slipping the form into his pocket. His fingers wrapped around the last Chocolate Frog pack that sat within his hoodie. He tossed it to Dudley as he passed.
"That's wizard's chocolate for you." Harry told him, still laughing, "You'd better eat it before they take it away - you're on a diet, dearest Diddykins -"
And with that, he strode out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, lifting his trunk with a great heave. The floorboards roared as Dudley thundered up the stairs as fast as his piggy legs could carry him, Uncle Vernon right in tow. Harry swung the front door open, and with one last laugh, he stepped out of the house.
The evening breeze slipped over his features. Harry closed his eyes, smiling as the cool air washed over him.
"Going somewhere, Harry?"
Harry opened his eyes. Standing along the edge of the footpath, bedecked in robes of red and gold, was none other than Albus Dumbledore. The smile slipped from Harry's face.
"Have you come to stop me?" he asked wryly.
"On the contrary," Dumbledore paused, his eyes twinkling, "I was wondering when we'd be on our way."
