My Dark Companion

by dieselflame

My take on Harry's years at Hogwarts as Bellatrix' soulmate and the Dark Lord's legacy. As he grows, Harry must navigate a world that sees him as both a weapon and a potential savior, forcing him to choose his own path. Will he follow his father's dark legacy, or forge a new destiny of his own. Now finished through Goblet of Fire.

15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 – End of the second year at Hogwarts

The following morning, Harry woke with a tangle of emotions coursing through him. The faint memories of Bellatrix saving his life lingered like a half-remembered dream, interwoven with Voldemort's damning words:She did something to make you Harry Potter.

Anger simmered beneath the surface, but it was dulled by confusion—by the undeniable warmth he'd felt in her magic and the tender, almost desperate way she'd saved him. The contradiction was almost unbearable. Yet, Harry knew now wasn't the time to confront it. His exams loomed, and they provided a convenient distraction. He resolved to focus on them for now and deal with the rest later.

Pushing himself out of bed, he felt an unfamiliar strength coursing through his veins. It was subtle but undeniable, and he knew it wasn't his own. It was her magic, still tethered to him after last night. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, but he squared his shoulders, determined to press forward.

As he made his way out of the room, the smell of tea and sunlight drew his attention to the lounge, where Narcissa sat by the window. Her usual impeccable composure was frayed, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. Harry hesitated but didn't turn back.

Narcissa looked up, and her expression softened with relief, though concern quickly followed. "Harry, what are you doing out of bed?" she asked, rising swiftly to her feet. "You need rest, my dear. You've barely recovered."

"I'm fine," Harry replied, his voice steady but curt. "I need to take my exams."

Narcissa frowned, stepping closer. "Dumbledore has already agreed to let you make them up. There's no need to rush back. Your health is far more important."

"I don't want to make them up," Harry insisted. "I want to return and take them now. Besides, I have… other business to attend to."

The slight edge in his voice made Narcissa pause. Her sharp eyes searched his face, noting something intangible but significant had changed in him overnight. It wasn't just the fatigue or the lingering signs of his ordeal. It was something deeper, a shift in his demeanour, as though he'd built walls overnight.

"Is Bellatrix not coming to say goodbye?" Harry asked suddenly, his tone quieter now, almost hesitant. He didn't know why he'd asked. He didn't want to see her—he wasn't ready.

"She's… resting," Narcissa said carefully. "She used a great deal of energy last night. She needs time."

Harry nodded, but his expression betrayed a lack of understanding. He didn't grasp the full gravity of Narcissa's words, nor did he try to.

"Probably for the best," he muttered, glancing toward the fireplace. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing forward.

Narcissa reached out as though to stop him but let her hand drop. Instead, she followed him to the hearth. "Take care of yourself, Harry," she said, her voice tinged with worry.

"I will," he replied. "I'll see you at King's Cross next week. Goodbye."

And with that, he threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, stepping into the green flames and disappearing.

Narcissa stood there for a moment, the worry etched into her face deepening. Something was brewing within Harry, something unresolved. She only hoped that when the time came, he'd have the strength to face it.

Seconds later, Harry stepped out of the green flames and into Snape's dimly lit office. The room smelled faintly of herbs and potions, its familiar shadows lending a sense of grounding after the tumultuous past few days.

Snape, seated at his desk, looked up sharply, his expression an unusual mix of surprise and irritation. "Potter," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "What are you doing here? You should be resting."

"I'm here to take my exams," Harry said firmly, his voice steady but quiet.

Snape arched an eyebrow, setting down the quill in his hand. "Exams? You've barely recovered, and after what I witnessed yesterday, I find it highly improbable that you are in any condition to focus on academic matters."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted. His tone carried an edge, and his bright blue eyes burned with a determination that gave Snape pause.

Snape studied him for a long moment, his dark eyes narrowing. Then, leaning back in his chair, he said, "Be that as it may, there is still much you will have to explain, Potter. Whatever transpired in the chamber is far from over. Perhaps before you rush off to your precious exams, it would be prudent to tell me exactly what happened. Fully. So we can decide what—if anything—to tell the headmaster."

Harry hesitated, his resolve wavering slightly under Snape's piercing gaze. A part of him didn't want to talk about it—not now, not ever. But another part knew Snape was right. He couldn't leave the events of the chamber unaddressed. And if anyone could handle the truth without being blinded by sentiment, it was Snape.

"Fine," Harry said finally, moving to sit across from Snape. "But this stays between us, at least for now."

Snape inclined his head, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. "Go on."

Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself before beginning. "It started when I heard footsteps in the chamber. No one should have been able to get in, but Ron—weasley—was there. He was… under some kind of spell, carrying a dead rooster and holding a book. Tom Riddle's journal."

Snape's expression darkened at the mention of the journal, but he said nothing, allowing Harry to continue.

"The book—it… opened itself. Pages were flipping, and then Riddle came out of it, like a memory brought to life. Only he wasn't just a memory. He was solid—real. He talked to me, taunted me, and he…" Harry faltered for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. "He said things about my connection to Slytherin, about how we're both Parselmouths, and how the basilisk obeys me. He said it's because I'm the true heir of Slytherin."

Snape's eyes narrowed, his fingers steepled in front of his face as he processed this information. "Go on," he said quietly.

Harry pressed on, his voice growing more animated as he recounted the duel. "He used Ron's wand. We fought—proper spells, curses, everything. I was holding my own at first, but he kept getting stronger. I realised it wasn't just a fight; Ron's life was feeding his power, and then he hit me with a spell. I didn't feel anything at first, but then I could feel my magic draining. It was like he was trying to steal it."

Snape's expression hardened, his sharp mind piecing together the implications.

"When I couldn't keep up anymore, I called for the basilisk," Harry continued. "Riddle was surprised—he couldn't control it. He tried, but the basilisk ignored him. That's when I told him: I'm the true heir, not him. But even then, I couldn't overpower him. My magic was nearly gone."

Harry paused, swallowing hard as he reached the climax of his tale. "I made a mistake. I told the basilisk to strikehim,but it didn't work. Then I realised—he wasn't the target. The book was. I told it to bite the book instead. The basilisk destroyed it, and Riddle… he just screamed and disappeared. There was ink everywhere."

Snape's lips pressed into a thin line, his mind clearly working through the details. "And the Weasley boy?"

"He was alive ," Harry said, his voice heavy. "Barely. I used the last of the magic I could access to get him out."

Snape leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into Harry's. "And the diary?"

"Destroyed," Harry said. "Completely."

For a moment, there was silence. Snape's gaze was unreadable, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. Finally, he said, "You left out something. What is it?"

Harry froze, his pulse quickening. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Potter, that you are hiding something," Snape said evenly. "It is written all over your face. Whatever you omitted, it is the piece that ties this all together. Now, what is it?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not important."

"It is if it pertains to your safety—or ours," Snape said, his tone sharp.

"It doesn't," Harry lied. "I've told you everything that matters."

Snape stared at him for a long moment, and Harry could feel the weight of his suspicion. But to his relief, Snape didn't press further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and exhaled through his nose.

"This information, as incomplete as it may be, changes everything," Snape said. "We will speak with Dumbledore, but we will tread carefully. The destruction of the diary is significant—more than you likely understand. For now, you should focus on your exams, as you seem so intent on taking them."

Harry nodded, relief and tension mixing in his chest. "Thank you."

Snape waved a hand dismissively. "Don't thank me yet, Potter. You've opened a door that cannot be easily closed. Now, go. I will summon you when Dumbledore is ready to speak."

Harry stood, his legs feeling heavier than before. As Harry reached the door, his hand hovering over the handle, Snape's voice cut through the silence, stopping him in his tracks.

"Potter," Snape said, his tone softer than usual but still carrying the weight of authority.

Harry turned back, his eyes meeting Snape's dark, inscrutable gaze.

"Whatever it is you're keeping to yourself," Snape began, his words slow and deliberate, "I may not be the person you wish to confide in. But you should tell someone."

Harry's brow furrowed slightly, his instinct to deny or deflect rising. But before he could speak, Snape continued.

"It is always easier not to carry such a burden alone," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. "Secrets have a way of consuming you from the inside out. Trust me when I say this."

Harry's throat tightened. For a moment, he felt as though Snape was speaking from a place of personal experience, though he doubted the man would ever admit it.

"I'll think about it," Harry said, his voice subdued but sincere.

Snape gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "See that you do."

Without another word, Harry turned the handle and stepped out into the corridor, his mind heavier than before. Snape's parting words echoed in his head as he walked away, and he couldn't help but wonder if the man was right.

Would sharing his secret truly lighten the weight he was carrying—or would it only make things worse? His thoughts swirled with what he had shared—and what he had chosen to keep to himself. Snape's words echoed in his mind: You've opened a door that cannot be easily closed.

O – o – o - o

As Harry emerged from the dim, musty confines of his History of Magic exam, blinking against the afternoon sunlight streaming through the corridor windows, he was met by the imposing figure of Professor Snape.

"Potter," Snape said curtly, his black robes billowing as he stepped into Harry's path. "Come with me."

Harry's stomach twisted uneasily, though he kept his face composed. "Is something wrong, sir?"

Snape's dark eyes narrowed. "Dumbledore has asked to see you. However, before we go to his office, I believe it is imperative that we retrieve the journal from the Chamber of Secrets. You mentioned its importance in your account."

Harry froze for a moment, surprised by Snape's suggestion. The Chamber had been a private sanctuary, a place he had only ever shared with Bellatrix. The thought of showing it to anyone else made him hesitate. But looking into Snape's steady, serious gaze, he reminded himself that Snape had always been reliable when it truly mattered.

"May I accompany you?" Snape added, his tone less sharp than usual, as if he sensed Harry's unease.

After a long pause, Harry nodded. "Alright. Follow me."

Leading Snape to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Harry ignored the ghost's curious giggles and lowered his voice to a whisper as he spoke Parseltongue to open the entrance. The sound of grinding stone filled the air as the floor revealed the dark tunnel beneath.

Snape's expression flickered with surprise, though he quickly schooled it into indifference. "Impressive," he murmured.

The two descended into the Chamber of Secrets, their wands illuminating the cavernous space as they entered its heart. The towering snake statues loomed overhead, their emerald eyes glinting in the wandlight. Harry moved with practiced ease, his footsteps echoing as he approached the area near the basilisk's lair.

When they arrived at the centre of the chamber, Harry stopped and glanced at Snape. "You should meet someone first," he said cautiously.

"Someone?" Snape echoed, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

Harry hissed in Parseltongue, summoning the basilisk. Moments later, the great serpent slithered into view, its massive body gliding effortlessly across the stone floor. Its emerald eyes, veiled by protective nictitating membranes, focused on Harry before flicking toward Snape.

The Potion Master froze, his wand instinctively twitching upward.

"Relax," Harry said quickly. "She won't hurt you. She's... loyal to me."

Snape's expression betrayed both astonishment and apprehension as he lowered his wand. "A living basilisk, loyal to a child," he muttered. "Only you, Potter."

"She's part of the Chamber's magic," Harry explained, placing a hand on the basilisk's scales. "I've... bonded with her."

Snape gave a curt nod, clearly still uneasy but unwilling to linger on the matter. "The journal?" he prompted.

Harry reached into a crevice near the base of a statue and pulled out the tattered black book. Its surface glimmered faintly, as though the remnants of Riddle's magic still lingered within.

"Here," Harry said, holding it out to Snape.

Snape studied it for a moment before tucking it into his robes. "We should leave. Dumbledore will want to see this."

The familiar sight of the stone gargoyle greeted them as they ascended to the Headmaster's office. Snape murmured the password, and the spiral staircase carried them upward.

Inside, Dumbledore sat behind his grand desk, his piercing blue eyes twinkling as they entered. Fawkes perched nearby, letting out a soft trill.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore greeted warmly. "Severus explained what happened. Do you have the artefact?"

Snape stepped forward, withdrawing the journal and placing it on the desk. "Harry retrieved this from the Chamber of Secrets. It belonged to Tom Riddle and contained a fragment of his soul. It is destroyed now, but Potter's account suggests it was responsible for the recent events."

Dumbledore's expression grew grave as he examined the journal, his fingers brushing its cracked spine.

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, turning his gaze to the boy. "I am immensely proud of your bravery, but I must ask—are you truly alright? These experiences could weigh heavily on even the strongest of minds."

Harry hesitated, glancing at Snape, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Taking a deep breath, he recounted seeing Ron go into the girls bathroom in a trance like state and how he followed him into the chamber. He described the events in the Chamber—his battle with Riddle, the near loss of Ron, and his desperate use of the basilisk to destroy the book.

As he spoke, Dumbledore's expression darkened, though he remained silent until Harry finished.

"You have faced far more than any student your age should ever have to endure," Dumbledore said solemnly. "And you have done so with remarkable courage. But I must ask—how did you know to command the basilisk to destroy the journal?"

"I... it was instinct," Harry lied, avoiding Snape's sharp gaze. "I realised the book was the source of Riddle's power, and the basilisk was the only thing strong enough to destroy it."

Dumbledore studied him for a moment, as though he suspected there was more to the story. But instead of pressing further, he smiled gently. "You have a remarkable instinct, Harry. One that may serve you well in the years ahead."

Snape cleared his throat. "Headmaster, while the journal is no longer a threat, it is clear that Voldemort's influence lingers in some form. We must remain vigilant."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes twinkling again. "Thank you for bringing this to me. Harry, I suspect you are eager to return to your studies. But know that my door is always open should you wish to talk."

Harry nodded, grateful for the reprieve. As he left the office with Snape, he felt a weight lift slightly from his shoulders. But deep down, he knew the secrets he carried would not stay hidden forever.

O – o – o - o

The echoing silence of the Chamber of Secrets felt heavier than usual as Harry stepped inside for what he knew would be the last time before leaving Hogwarts for the summer. His exams were over, and the relief of finishing them had been tempered by the knowledge that it now meant he had to deal with every thing else. He had decided he would talk to Narcissa, she seemed like the most logical choice since he wasn't quite ready to confront Bellatrix. The thought made his stomach twist, but for now, he had other matters to attend to.

"Salazar?" he called, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.

The spectral figure of Salazar Slytherin materialised from one of the great stone pillars, his translucent form regal and imposing.

"You return, young heir," Salazar said, his voice echoing with a mixture of curiosity and pride. "You have accomplished much since we last spoke. The serpent tells me you were victorious against the intruder."

Harry nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks to the Chamber, and her," he said, gesturing toward the basilisk, who emerged from the shadows, her massive form gliding silently across the floor.

The serpent inclined her head, her eyes veiled to prevent accidental harm.$You $summoned $me $well, $master. $I $ am $honoured$ $to $serve $you.

Harry placed a hand on her scaled body. "Thank you for your help. I couldn't have done it without you."

Salazar observed the interaction, his expression unreadable. "And yet, I sense you are here for a different reason today."

Harry straightened, his resolve hardening. "I came to say goodbye. I won't be back until next term, but there are things I need to take with me. Things I need to learn."

Salazar's eyes gleamed. "You seek knowledge. Wise... but dangerous. What is it you wish to take?"

Harry hesitated, then stepped toward one of the carved niches in the wall where he had discovered a collection of journals—old, leather-bound books that once belonged to Tom Riddle. He had skimmed through them briefly but never had the time to truly understand their contents.

"These," Harry said, gesturing to a few of the journals. "They belonged to him, to my father. I need to understand what he did, how he thought."

Salazar frowned. "The knowledge contained in those pages is potent, but it is not without cost. Are you prepared for the burden it may bring?"

"I have to be," Harry said firmly. "If I don't try to understand him, I'll always be at a disadvantage."

The ghostly founder nodded slowly. "Very well. But take caution, heir. Power without purpose can corrupt even the purest of souls."

Harry nodded, then reached out to the journals. With a flick of his wand, he cast a complex glamour charm, altering their appearance to resemble ordinary textbooks. The covers now bore titles like Advanced Magical Theory and Potions of the Modern Era. He tucked the disguised journals into his bag, his heart pounding.

Turning back to the basilisk, he hesitated before speaking. "Thank you... for everything. I don't know what the future holds, but I'm glad I got to meet you."

The serpent tilted her head.$You $honour $me, $young $master. $I $will $wait $for $your $return.

Salazar stepped forward, his gaze piercing. "Go now, Harry Potter. And remember—power lies not in the magic you wield, but in the choices you make. Choose wisely."

Harry met his eyes, feeling the weight of those words settle in his chest. "I will."

With one last glance at the basilisk and Salazar, Harry turned and made his way out of the Chamber. The stone walls seemed to whisper around him as the entrance closed behind him, sealing away its secrets until his return.

He climbed out of the dark tunnel and into the light of the bathroom, feeling the weight of the journals in his bag like a promise—and a challenge—for the summer ahead.

The Great Hall sparkled with its usual end-of-year splendour as he made his way to the end of year feast. Golden plates gleamed under the enchanted ceiling, which reflected a perfect summer sky. The four long house tables were buzzing with chatter as students celebrated the end of exams and the beginning of summer vacation. Despite the festive atmosphere, Harry felt a mix of anticipation and unease as he took his seat at the Slytherin table.

"Potter, you look like you swallowed a Skrewt," Draco Malfoy muttered, nudging him.

"Thanks for the observation," Harry replied dryly, forcing a small smile.

The chatter quieted as Dumbledore rose from his seat at the staff table. The Headmaster's presence always commanded attention, but tonight there was an extra twinkle in his eyes that made Harry's stomach twist in anticipation.

"Another year at Hogwarts has come to an end," Dumbledore began, his voice warm and resonant. "And what a year it has been. I must commend each and every one of you for your hard work and perseverance. But, as is often the case at our dear school, there are some who have gone above and beyond the call of duty."

The hall fell silent, and Dumbledore's gaze swept across the students before settling on Harry.

"This year, we faced a grave threat—one that endangered the life of a student and the very safety of our school. Thanks to the bravery, quick thinking, and selflessness of one student, disaster was averted. Harry Potter, please stand."

The hall erupted in whispers as Harry felt every pair of eyes turn toward him. He froze, his heart pounding, but Draco gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"Go on, Potter. Don't make it more awkward than it already is."

Reluctantly, Harry stood, his cheeks flushing as applause broke out across the room. He tried to focus on anything but the attention—on the enchanted ceiling, on the golden plates, on the distant banners fluttering in the corner.

Dumbledore continued, his voice filled with pride. "For his courage in facing danger and his determination in protecting his fellow student, Harry Potter is hereby awarded the Hogwarts Award for Services to the School."

The hall burst into cheers, though Harry couldn't help but notice the varying degrees of enthusiasm. Gryffindor's table was particularly loud, with Hermione and the twins clapping furiously. The Slytherins were more subdued, simply nodding in approval. Ginny offered him a thumbs-up.

Dumbledore raised his hand for silence, and the applause faded. "Harry, your actions remind us all of the power of bravery and loyalty. You have our gratitude."

Harry nodded awkwardly, sitting back down as quickly as he could. His face burned with embarrassment, but a small part of him felt a flicker of pride.

"An award for Services to the School," Draco muttered, smirking. "I suppose it's better than being expelled."

Harry shot him a glare but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

As the feast continued, Harry allowed himself to relax slightly. He listened to the chatter around him, occasionally joining in as the Slytherins speculated about the summer ahead. But his mind kept drifting back to the Chamber, to the journals in his bag, and to the questions that still hung over him.

When the feast finally ended, and the students began to file out of the Great Hall, Dumbledore caught Harry's eye and offered him a small, knowing smile. Harry wasn't sure whether it was meant to reassure him or remind him of their conversation earlier that day, but it left him feeling both uneasy and determined.

As he made his way back to the Slytherin dormitories for the last time this term, the award tucked away in his pocket, Harry knew one thing for certain: his journey was only just beginning. He had a feeling what he learned this summer would change everything.

The Hogwarts Express sat gleaming on the platform, steam hissing as trunks were loaded and students bade tearful farewells to friends and professors. Harry stood near the train's entrance, watching the activity with a mix of relief and trepidation.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice broke through his thoughts. She was hurrying toward him, dragging her trunk behind her. Ron followed, looking pale and slightly subdued but otherwise back to normal.

"Hey, Hermione. Mr. Weasley," Harry greeted, stepping forward to help Hermione lift her trunk onto the train.

"Thanks," she said, brushing her hair out of her face. "You didn't wait for me at the carriages. I thought you'd already boarded."

"I needed some air," Harry replied vaguely, climbing onto the train behind them.

The three of them made their way to an empty compartment. As Harry slid into the seat, Ron coughed and said he needed to find Lavender, biding them farewell.

"He wants to say thank you, but he's too embarrassed," said Hermione knowingly.

"His thanks isn't necessary. I would have done the same for anyone."

As the train began to move. Harry stared out the window, watching the Scottish countryside roll by.

"So," Hermione began, breaking the silence. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry tensed slightly. "Not really."

Hermione frowned, but didn't press further. The conversation turned to summer plans, and just then Draco joined them pulling Hermione into a heated conversation about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Harry listened, nodding occasionally, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The train rattled on, and the afternoon passed in a blur of chatter and laughter.

As the train began to slow, signalling their arrival in London, the mood grew more subdued. Harry felt a pang of sadness as he realised how much he would miss Hogwarts, despite everything that had happened.

When the train pulled into King's Cross, the three of them gathered their things and stepped off onto the platform. The bustle of King's Cross was almost overwhelming, with students and families reuniting in a flurry of movement and chatter. Harry stood on the platform for a moment, taking it all in, before he felt someone approaching.

"Thank you, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for saving my son."

Harry mumbled something about it being nothing, but she pulled him into a hug anyway.

"Hi, Harry," came Ginny's soft voice. He turned to see her standing awkwardly nearby, her face flushed as though she'd run to catch him.

"Hi, Ginny," Harry said, smiling.

She hesitated, glancing down at the ground before looking up again. "I just… wanted to say goodbye. And thank you. For saving Ron."

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable with the gratitude. "It's nothing. Anyone would have done the same."

"Not anyone," Ginny replied, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Anyway… goodbye, Harry." Before he could respond, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek then darted after her mother, disappearing into the crowd.

Ron appeared next, dragging his trunk behind him with one hand while scratching the back of his head with the other. "So… yeah," he began awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. "Thanks for, you know, saving me. Sorry I haven't been very nice to you."

"Don't mention it," Harry replied.

Before the moment could grow too serious, Fred and George materialised on either side of Harry, clapping him on the shoulders.

"Nice work, Harry," Fred said.

"Saving our little brother and all that," George added with a grin.

"You're officially an honorary Weasley now," Fred continued.

"Exactly. You'll have to come visit us over the summer," George finished.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "I'd like that," he said.

"Good," the twins said in unison before hauling Ron off toward their waiting parents.

As the Weasleys left, Hermione gave Harry a tight hug as well. "Write to me this summer," she said firmly. "Promise."

"I will," Harry said, watching her disappear into the crowd with her parents.

As she disappeared, Harry took a moment to breathe. He glanced down the platform and froze. Standing at the far end, just beyond the stream of students, were Bellatrix and Narcissa.

Bellatrix's dark eyes locked onto him immediately, and Harry felt a chill run down his spine. Her expression was an unsettling mix of jealousy and something else—something wild and possessive that made his stomach twist. She looked as though she wanted to storm over and hex someone, or perhaps drag him into the shadows for reasons Harry didn't want to contemplate.

Narcissa, by contrast, wore a serene smile, her poise unshaken amidst the chaos of the platform. Her expression was warm and motherly, but her sharp gaze betrayed a keen interest in Harry's next move.

Harry sighed, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. He had questions—so many questions—but the sight of Bellatrix's barely contained rage and Narcissa's calm intensity made him hesitate.

Still, he knew he couldn't avoid them forever. Squaring his shoulders, he gripped his trunk handle tightly and began walking toward them.

As Harry reached Narcissa, his resolve solidified despite the knot of uncertainty in his stomach. Bellatrix's piercing gaze bore into him, but he ignored it, focusing solely on Narcissa.

"Narcissa," he said, his voice steady but quiet. "Can we talk? Alone?"

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of relief and surprise crossing her composed features. She knelt in front of him, her calm demeanour softening further as she met his gaze. "Of course," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "In fact, I know just the spot."

She rose gracefully and extended her hand to him. Harry hesitated for a moment before taking it, her touch surprisingly warm and reassuring.

Narcissa turned to Bellatrix, who was still lingering nearby, a storm of emotions flashing across her face. Bellatrix looked as though she might interject, her hands twitching at her sides.

"We'll see you at home, Bella," Narcissa said in a tone that brooked no argument.

For a tense moment, Bellatrix looked ready to protest, her lips parting to speak. Her fiery eyes darted between Narcissa and Harry, but something in her sister's commanding presence made her pause. With a sharp nod, Bellatrix spun on her heel and strode away, her dark robes billowing behind her as she disappeared into the crowd.

Harry let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding as Narcissa gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Come," she said softly, leading him away from the platform. "Let's talk."