In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 122: International
Hermione woke on the sleeping pad, front side down, her head turned to the side. Ron's snores audible. Hermione moved forward, feet to the sand between the sage brush, she sat with the view of the ocean, with a tortoise near the water.
"Harry said he got back alright," Gia said as she sat to Hermione's right, "So, I wait."
"Sorry about that," Hermione said.
"You and Ron are capable," Gia said, "Me…" Her left fingers fidgeted with her ring. "Maybe make sure it's set right?"
"Good to have," Hermione said.
Hermione watched as the red haired boy walked around, across the sand. Ron stood with the water lapping across his ankles.
"Sounded like that Michael fellow's starting to come around," Gia said.
"Not sure," Hermione said.
"More scars will accumulate," Gia said, "If I know anything, more's to come."
"True," Hermione said.
Hermione watched Ron, the mild curve to the spine, a bit of a belly. Hermione took out The Daily Prophet, began to read into it, and her eyes drawn to the article at the bottom.
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Sunday 4 May 1997
Potter's Overseas Outlook
Darkness is coming, as shown by the five innocent lives stolen by the rising Dark Lord Harry Potter, the boy who should've died. Instead, three tortured and butchered in Kuwait, an appetizer to the two more that suffered the same fate in Antigua and Barbuda.
Australia voted yesterday to join the growing coalition; it now stands United Kingdom, Russia, Equatorial Guinea, Suriname, and Kenya, together, to oppose the darkness that Dark Wizard Harry Potter is bestowing onto the world.
"What'd they mean?" Gia asked, "Standing united?"
"Not sure," Hermione said.
"So," Ron said, "It's not a flower basket?"
Hermione snorted.
"Unlikely," Hermione said.
All three knew that things would get worse, with nothing Harry that could do to stop it; they needed allies.
Monday morning, Dumbledore unrolled The Daily Prophet, the air of the small greenhouse around him and the table. He reached for the scottish crumpet, added the butter, bit of jam to it.
"Nice choice," said McGonagall as she sat across from the Headmaster.
"Usual," Dumbledore said.
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Monday 05 May 1997
Canada Signs onto Call for Action
After an emergency session of parliament yesterday, the Canadian government is pleased to announce ratification of the call to action that's being championed by the Minister for Magic, Victor Fallerschain, as the best way to contain the current crisis of a rising dark wizard. While it's too late to save the five murdered there a month ago, or the seven yesterday in Panama, this unification of effort will save us all.
"Rubbish," McGonagall said.
"Same rhetoric," Dumbledore said, "Though the prices seem to have gone up."
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Problem Solver
Face it Wizarding World, it's time to vote with your purse, express your dissatisfaction with the vileness that has crept back into our lives. You thought the Boy Who Lived was your salvation, you wish that were true but know it's not. We need to banish this blemish and disease from our lives, to return to the wonderful world of magic we all know and love.
Eximo Macula is proud to help administer these rewards for removal of known threats to the wizarding community.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Shouldn't Have Lived. 1,925K galleons.
Ronald Weasley, Kiss Up King. 1,503K galleons.
Hermione Granger, Wannabe Dark Queen. 994K galleons.
Gia Prescott, Muggle Cock Holster aka Potter's pet. 602K galleons.
Bonus of 20,000 galleons per relation or friendship severed.
Removal of these problems would be greatly appreciated. All wagers and contributions can be sent to "Bye Bye". To claim a reward, submit relevant documentation.
Harry dropped the invisibility as soon as he flew into the stadium. Beneath, in the center, Ron on top of Hermione. Harry stepped down onto the grass.
"We'll need to talk when you're done," Harry said to Hermione and Ron.
"Harry!" came the faint voice.
Harry turned his to Gia within the box to the side. Harry walked fast, jogged over to her, the hands to her sides, the kiss.
"How'd the rescue go?" Gia asked.
"It went…interesting," Harry said.
Gia walked with Harry, into the locker room. Harry took that hard right into the room, and Harry stepped up on the scale.
"Good morning," Notley said as he entered.
"Bit of a weekend," Harry said.
"Couldn't tell," Notley said.
Harry understood, he'd sent Neville here.
"Hadn't had breakfast yet," Harry said.
Notley's left hand wrote onto the paper in the manila folder. He grabbed his wand, ran it over Harry.
"Get some breakfast, and practice," Notley said.
Gia walked next to Harry as they left the locker room. Harry's right arm went around her back, held her as they climbed the stairs.
"Good rescue?" Gia asked as they entered the clubhouse.
They stopped at the buffet. Harry turned her, her back to the wall, as he pressed in. His hands that felt into her and kissed.
"Breakfast," Gia said.
"Getting his fill," Ron said, as he walked in.
Harry took the hash browns, melon slices, the eggs, bacon, some beans and toast, went over to the table, and took his pills.
"The rescue," Harry said, "Damp abandoned mine in Wales, deep below ground. Fake Hermione lost her charm—Bellatrix Lestrange."
"Blimey," Ron said, sitting across from Harry.
"We can—" Hermione started.
"Report what?" Harry said, "That we've been conspiring with known death eaters? That's the article we print?"
"Sorry," Hermione said.
Harry worked the melon slices first, ate them.
"Simply confirms what we've known," Harry said, "They're setting us up, and it's why the fake Hermione loved the Cruciatus Curse."
Harry ate into the bacon, the eggs.
"Where's Bellatrix now?" Hermione asked.
"I collapsed the mine," Harry said, "May need to do a bit of digging to return."
"How'd you get out?" Ron asked.
"Flew in," Harry said, "Flew…an alternate reality…that was interesting."
Gia's blue eyes to Harry, as Harry put the beans on the buttered toast. Harry explained the alternate.
"Wait?" Ron asked.
"That's…impossible," Hermione said.
"We think of them as unlimited," Harry said, "What if they're not? What if Voldemort meddles and choosing which one survives and which one does not?"
"That's…ghastly to consider," Hermione said.
"I stumble across Neville trying to keep the stone away from Voldemort," Harry said, "That's a total dumpster fire, so toss. Toy with Ash's history, keep him away from Hogwarts, and I die early, too soon for what Voldemort needs—again, toss. Another where he's suppressed muggleborns, and everybody's magic's so weak that our first years can beat out anybody save Voldemort?"
"You're saying he's trying for the strongest Voldemort?" Gia asked.
"Yes," Harry said, "Murder Trelawney before the prophecy's set into motion, no competition, and he becomes even stronger—that's why I had to make sure it got delivered, and take out that Voldemort."
"You killed him?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head.
"Gave him love," Harry said, "Funny he couldn't handle it."
Harry ate up the last of the crumpet, drank the juice, and stood.
"Coming?" Harry asked Ron, unsure if they were waiting on him.
Ron walked with Harry.
"You and your shortcuts," Ron said.
"It worked," Harry said, "How else do you escape a mine collapse?"
"Don't go in?" Ron asked.
Down the steps, through the locker room, and into the box. Harry grabbed a Nimbus 1000, went to the controls as Fred and George walked on. Harry felt a bit more at home as he added in some wind and rain, with a mix of sleet.
"We know when you're practicing," Fred said.
"Tough conditions practice us better," Harry said, "Try the blindfolds."
Fred shook his head. Harry straddled the broom, and upward. Breeze that blew across him, Harry was back in his element.
Late that afternoon, Harry went up the steps, past the coaches' offices, into the clubhouse. Harry's arm wrapped around Gia. Harry held Gia, the thought, disapparated, apparated. Clouds above, the wind to the trees Harry gained his balance, the feet into the leaves. In front of him, Richard.
"Oh, you," Richard said.
"Thought we'd catch up," Harry said, "Guess we did."
Harry's wand out, the disillusionment charm over the three of them. Harry walked to the left, Gia to Richard's right, and they went along the path.
"You're still having troubles," Richard said.
"Yep," Harry said, "Legal for others to kill me—no repercussions for them."
"Makes things—tough," Richard said.
"Luckily most don't want to kill," Harry said, "But there's enough that will let the payout soothe their conscience."
Harry's eyes twitched as they approached the zebra crossing.
"How much?" Richard asked.
"Think it's… around ten million pounds," Harry said.
"Ouch," Richard said, "Making you out to be a terrorist."
"They are," Harry said, "It's why I can't settle anywhere."
"It'd be nice to have a home," Gia said.
"You'd have to surround it with a bunch of gold bricks," Richard said.
"Doesn't matter how deep the moat is," Harry said, "We'd get sloppy, it'd be discovered…and once it's under siege, it's when, not if."
A slip between the houses, across the road, to the row house.
"Keep a schedule and we're dead," Harry said.
"Thought we'd catch up," Gia said.
"Not sure how long my Mum's going to be out," Richard said.
Woof!
Harry turned as blond Snuffles entered. Harry stood before Sirius finished his transformation. A hug.
"Good to see you," Sirius said.
"Checking for mail," Harry said.
Kristen pushed the stroller in with Paul strapped in. She took the blue jacket off, the livery of the police uniform showed. Harry walked with Sirius to the conservatory. Harry leaned back against the door post.
"James…" Sirius said.
"I know," Harry said, "Wasn't exactly faithful, was he?"
Sullen eyes on Harry.
"Madam Rosmerta…" Harry said, "My broom." He flicked his hand, the holly broom hovered. "Occasionally lands me…thought they were alternate realities, about the best explanation. Landed in one on Saturday."
Confusion behind the eyes.
"That one was back in time to the night of the prophecy," Harry said, "That Madam Rosmerta thought I was James, flirting again, when it was Luna with me. Met a younger you, and Lupin."
"Him?" Sirius asked.
"Only way I can…anymore," Harry said, "Saw my Mum."
"Lily?" Sirius asked.
Harry nodded.
"Kept my distance," Harry said, "Lupin understood who I was. Snape…" Harry grinned. "Enough to get Voldemort to come, and that one, I could vanquish."
"So everybody—" Sirius started.
"Perishes," Harry said, "Our Voldemort has or will have something that lets him alter time, examine the results, and let it pass or perish, he chooses. So far, every time I get involved, it perishes."
Harry sighed.
"Does Dumbledore know?" Sirius asked.
"Not burdening him with everything," Harry said, "He knows about the alternate reality thing."
"Albus is—" Sirius started.
"Dying," Harry said.
"We all are, one day at a time," Sirius said.
"Know he can still pack a mean punch," Harry said, "Another reality."
Harry adjusted himself.
"Good to see you," Harry said, "I'll…talk later."
Harry moved, past Kristen tending to Paul, up the stairs. Harry entered the bedroom that made Dudley's spare seem spacious; Gia and Richard sitting on the bed.
"Know it's not getting any better for you," Richard said.
"Nope," Harry said, "Well…it's been a chance to do things."
Harry's fingers worked his shark bite scar.
"Diving, tigers, chimpanzees," Gia said.
"Cool," Richard said.
They kept talking.
…
Gia woke the next morning as Jen moved the towel, pushed it beneath Harry. Harry still asleep.
"Simple," Jen said.
Gia rolled, stood. Down the stairs, she entered the kitchen, the blonde haired Sirius worked the stove.
"I may not be the best of chefs," Sirius said, "Have the opportunity."
Gia grinned, leaned back, and watched as the man worked up the bacon, the eggs. She reached for The Daily Prophet.
"Usual fare," Sirius said, "More nations pledging to fight the boy that won't feed himself until you…worked your magic."
Gia sighed, slid the paper underneath a spent pizza box.
"Lies," Sirius said, "Unless he slept walked in Uruguay or Saint Lucia."
"He needs an army," Gia said.
"He's had a standing private army," Sirius said, "Us old crowd—we're not getting younger."
"He also needs proof and people willing to listen," Gia said.
"Alas," Sirius said, "Even if you have proof, nobody will listen."
"At least not the right people," Gia said.
Pop!
Harry apparated in.
"No paper?" Harry asked.
"Nothing interesting," Sirius said, "Aside from Health and Safety installing a scale in front of Honeydukes, so patrons must weigh themselves before going in."
"Ouch," Harry said.
Sirius lifted the plates, carried them to the conservatory. The three of them sat down around the small table. Harry swallowed his pills, took the fork, and worked into the fried eggs. Gia piled some of the beans onto her toast.
"No Weasley," Sirius remarked.
"Separate ways…they're a bit safer," Harry said, "Not to mention all the arguing on what to do."
Wednesday morning, Dumbledore waited until the bed lifted him in the Hospital Wing, into a standing position, and he held the walker with both hands. A shake, he grabbed the cane.
"Can we dispense with this ridiculous examination?" Dumbledore asked the witch in white.
"Sure," said Pomfrey, "Death in a week."
"Stop being so melodramatic," said McGonagall as she entered.
"Get him to take his health more seriously," Pomfrey said.
"If he ever stops giving you grief," McGonagall said, "I promise to escort him immediately to St. Mungo's."
Dumbledore sighed, steadied his hands on the canes, and marched with her. McGonagall pointed, and Dumbledore went into her office.
"A break," McGonagall suggested.
"Not that feeble," Dumbledore said.
McGonagall moved The Daily Prophet to the side.
"How bad?" Dumbledore asked.
"Jordan and Malawi were attacked, nine total," McGonagall said, "And another handful of countries that have expressed solidarity—whatever that means, except this Minister's forming an alliance to confront us, Mr. Potter."
"My protections cannot be revoked after invoked," Dumbledore said.
After Neville woke Friday, no sooner had he stepped into the seventh floor corridor than he heard the voice behind him.
"What you waiting for Longbottom?" said Finnigan, "Not kissing that arse."
Footsteps from the Fat Lady portrait guarding Gryffindor Tower, Dean Thomas snorted and snickered.
"Talk Potter in showing where he dumped Ernie?" Finnigan asked.
"We both know whose arse you're licking," Neville said, "It ain't mine, though I can show it."
"No thank you," Dean Thomas said.
Neville waited for them to take the usual stairs. Neville went for the one next to the portrait, and went down. It was Friday, knew another weekend approached.
…
By that afternoon, Neville went down the steps on the ground floor, and he entered the greenhouse. Hannah Abbott walked with him.
"Can you stop strutting Longbottom?" Finnigan asked as he entered.
Hannah leaned into Neville.
"Careful," said Dean Thomas.
"Risk your hand," Finnigan said, "It's replaceable."
Dean Thomas raised his metallic left hand, the middle finger raised, and flipped Neville off.
"Happy…happy…valentine?" said Malfoy, "Please don't."
Malfoy walked with Crabbe and Goyle to the planter in the far corner.
"Tables," Dean Thomas said.
Finnigan and Dean Thomas went off to a planter table with Cornfoot and Goldstein.
"Ignore them," Hannah advised.
"Going to see Potter again this weekend?" Finnigan asked, "Take your bitch to her house, share her with him? Some sort of ritual?"
"Weasley join in?" asked Dean Thomas, "How many todgers can she fit?"
Neville turned, the glare.
"Where'd you plan to go later?" Finnigan said, "Some stupid stone house by itself near St. Ottery Catchpole, right? Another pow–wow with Potter? Think it'd slip our attention?"
"You know nothing," Michael said to Finnigan, "And I pity you."
"Think that mole gives you special powers?" Finnigan asked.
"AHEM!" came the shout.
A turn to Professor Sprout, the overbearing nature and her eyes.
"Please turn in your homework," Professor Sprout said.
A shuffle of papers that went up.
"Get to work—and behave," Professor Sprout said.
Finnigan glared.
Neville took sheers, worked the bush on their planter table, as did Susan, Hannah, Michael, and Parvati. The lesson that passed.
Ring!
Neville grabbed his book–bag, slung it over. Michael walked with him; Parvati, Susan, and Hannah followed to the Entrance Hall.
"LONGBOTTOM!" Neville shouted on the golden platform.
"No warning?" asked Augusta as Neville stepped out into the living room.
"Change of plans," Neville said, "Mind Gran?"
He set his book–bag down. Augusta worked the coffee table, cleared it to set a couple decks of cards down.
Knock! Knock!
"That'd be Wren," Augusta said, "Get it."
Neville walked over, opened the double doors. Jet black hair, bottle green eyes, Harry stood there with Hermione.
"Upstairs—my bedroom," Neville said.
A pop, both vanished.
"Must've been a woodpecker," Neville said, as he closed the doors.
"Do not lie," Augusta snapped.
Knock! Knock
"Make the settings for five?" Neville asked.
"Five?" Augusta asked.
"Yeah," Neville said, "Five."
Neville returned to the door, opened it.
"Neville!" exclaimed the witch in the large knitted yellow jumper covered in buttons, "You've…you've grown."
Her eyes that drifted down.
"I could use your service," said the witch.
"WREN ACKERGILL!" Augusta snapped, "He's my grandson."
"Handsome," Wren said as she entered, "Nothing to be ashamed about, and I could stand a bit of extra warmth in bed."
Neville recognized the glare.
"Future of your family line," Wren said, "He know how to use it?"
Wren sat in the living room.
"Your guests—" Augusta started.
"Will be coming down in a moment," Neville said, "Please."
Neville took the steps up, along the corridor into his bedroom Harry and Hermione there.
"You wanted to meet?" Harry asked.
"It's not everybody against you," Neville said, "Not everybody believes the tripe."
Harry's bottle greens that seemed to interrogate.
"We've taken to calling ourselves valentines," Neville said.
Harry snorted.
"Love counters hate?" Neville asked.
Hermione nodded.
"A group?" Harry asked.
"It's…grown," Neville said, "Probably a couple dozen."
"NEVILLE!" came the shout.
"Bit of an early dinner before you leave?" Neville asked.
Harry's eyes on Neville.
"Don't over do it, not like Gran was planning for this many," Neville said, "Still, downstairs."
Harry and Hermione stood there.
"You have company," Harry said, "So we can't loiter—"
"Downstairs is our neighbor—known her for many years," Neville said, "Her husband likes to frequent the Crystal Ball regularly, so she gossips with Gran. I think you can charm her. Let her see the real you, and play it from there."
Neville felt the twinkle of Harry's bottle greens assessed Neville's intent.
"Luna said enough about your adventure with her last weekend," Neville said, "That burden placed on you—it scares me, but I think I've placed my faith in the right person, you."
Harry sighed.
"You showed Ash kindness and love," Neville said, "This week, I witnessed another couple recruited over, Orla Quirke and Stewart Ackerley."
Hermione glared.
"He raped Hermione," Harry said, pointed, "We've seen—"
"You're not getting an army by excluding the rapists," Neville said, "Anybody that wants to stand up, turn a leaf, and repent, deserves a chance."
Harry sighed.
"Talk to Wren and see what happens," Neville said, "You have wands backing you up."
Harry sighed.
"A rapist—" Hermione started.
"Later," Harry said.
"We need to turn people one at a time," Neville said, "Gryffindor courage."
Harry smirked, walked. Neville reached, arm to Hermione, brought her along.
"Feels like we're marching for an execution," Hermione said.
"You're to be smothered in tea and biscuits," Neville said.
Harry snorted, the steps down the stairs. A gasp.
"Easy…easy," said Augusta.
Wren had her feet up, the tucking into her knitted jumper beneath its myriad of buttons.
"My friend," Neville said, "The one I support. If you need a bed warmer—he'd be great, except you'd wake up, refreshed from his company, only to read in The Daily Prophet how he's been murdering in his sleep."
Neville threw the morning's copy onto the table.
"Czech Republic and Kyrgyzstan," Neville said, "Where did you sleep?"
"On rocks beneath a bridge," Hermione said.
"Really?" Neville asked.
"Conjured up a sleeping bag," Harry said.
"No alibis," Augusta said.
"Three million for them dead," Neville said, "Expecting them to sleep in Diagon Alley for an alibis?"
"You're…you're…" Wren started, the eyes toward Harry and Neville, "You're cursed."
"We support Harry because Death Eaters are framing him," Neville said, "Lets Harry here know he's not alone, and we share his fate."
"I wouldn't leap so fast if I were you," Harry said.
"Tea and stand right there," Neville said to Harry.
Wren's eyes that were focused toward Harry. Neville grabbed the tea pot, poured out cups, to Wren first, second to his Gran, one for Hermione before he poured one for himself.
"I'm willing to doubt The Daily Prophet," Wren said.
"Ministry tortured Harry on behalf of Voldemort," Neville said.
A flinch, the glare from Augusta.
"Am I barking up the wrong tree? Or am I doing right?" Neville asked.
"I'm mulling it over," Wren said.
Neville turned to Harry.
"Likely best to…you know," Neville said.
"I get it," Harry said.
"Um…" Neville muttered, "And use the front door."
Harry and Hermione left.
Neville grabbed the box for Game of Floo and took out the board.
"Alright," Neville said.
"This helps with your Arithmacy," Wren said.
"Don't…didn't sign up for it," Neville said.
Neville kept sorting the carved pieces out of the black felt sack. Little houses and shops sprung to life as he placed the pieces on them.
"I'll start…" Neville put his hand into the blue felt sack, felt the plastic.
Neville kept playing with Wren until the smuggler got away with the shipments of shady knitting needles.
"Think your Gran…best to call it a night," Wren said.
Neville stood, put the pieces back into the sacks.
"Won't be counting sheep tonight," Wren advised.
Neville stood there as he finished tidying up the game. Board, cover, the box returned to being sealed. Footsteps that approached, and Wren stood. Neville turned for the cupboard, lifted the game to the shelf.
"You're milking him?" Augusta said, her eyes on Wren, "My grandson—"
"Handsome," Wren said, "See why you don't want to share."
"WREN!" Augusta snapped.
"It'd be nice to plant some Dittany tomorrow," Neville said, unsure if he distracted properly.
"Still owe me on cribbage," Wren said to Augusta.
Neville climbed the stairs, moved for his bedroom. Door that opened, closed, and he went over to the bed. Darkness already beset the room, Neville turned on the bed, and it took Neville a bit before his mind idled enough and he fell to sleep.
Date:Thu Sep 19 01:53:01 2024