Disclaimer: I'm not the owner of Harry Potter, JK Rowling is.
Guest: Always wonderful to read useless comments like this from people who didn't even read half of the story. I mean, a character has a blindfold and boom, he is Gojo ? Before JJK, it was Kakashi from Naruto (when he was hiding his eye), and I'm sure there also other characters before that. Are people like that as annoying in reality ? Fuck, life must be tough. Anyway, I don't even know why I bothered answering, but I really can't understand how unmannered and despiteful some would be to click on someone's work, look at it for a few minutes, insult it, give orders like if they were some kind of omniscient piece of shit, and go away to do the same thing again. Ridiculous, truly.
thatcher577: I thank you for the review ! x34
Rodrigo25: Thank you Rodrigo !
Mando-Vet: Had to search for the definition of "Helluva", but thanks hahaha. I hope you'll like the rest of the story. Have a good day !
CaskettFan5: Oh, then I understand. Yeah, he really messed up by not killing her before using his powers. Sadly, that's how things went. About the story coming to an end, yup, you're right. Still 5-6 chapters, with most of them being the final battle(s). I like the fights, and I'm sure action junkies will be extremely happy. Anyway, for now let's go back to Fudge and his pink frog. Thanks for reviewing, as always. Take care !
11/21/1995, 18H24, Hogwarts, Scotland:
"I would like to congratulate all of you," Harry declared firmly, addressing a captivated assembly of students. "Every day, with every new lesson, your progress is such that it almost surpasses that of the most talented wizards of our generation. Your zeal and determination are truly inspiring."
He stood at the center of the Room of Requirement, surrounded by those who had been with him since his first year at Hogwarts: Hermione, Neville, and Daphne. It was rare for the young wizard to address all the students who had joined his "study group," departing from his usual magic-focused speeches.
For Harry Potter, despite his fame, was still a simple Gryffindor student. A gifted one, perhaps, marked by Death itself, but a student above all. His sole desire was to become strong enough to protect those he loved and the wizarding world. He longed for a future where peace reigned, where wizards could live in harmony.
"I know this topic is the subject of much controversy at the Ministry. Nevertheless, for your safety, I must insist on the truth, on what is truly happening: Voldemort has returned. His shadow once again looms over our world, sowing fear and discord, both in the Muggle and magical worlds alike."
A murmur ran through the assembly. Some students, new to the group, appeared stunned by this revelation.
"I wish I could tell you that I defeated that monster once and for all when I was a child, but that would be a lie," he admitted, his expression dark. "It was my mother, using ancient magic of incredible power, who allowed me to survive his deadly curse. Voldemort should have perished that day, taking with him the terror every witch and wizard felt in his presence," he sighed, bowing his head, ignoring the shivers of fear that ran through the crowd at the mere mention of the name. "But powerful rituals kept him clinging to life, teetering on the brink of death, waiting for his moment to return to power."
He paused, letting his words sink into everyone's minds, then resumed in a stronger voice:
"Today, he has returned to this world!" he exclaimed. "But we are ready to face him. I am not asking for your allegiance or obedience. I only ask that you fight for what is right. That is all I expect from you. Together, we can defeat him and build a better future."
It was then that Luna Lovegood raised her hand. 'Perfect timing, Luna', Harry thought with satisfaction.
"Yes, Luna?" he said, curious about the question his new friend might ask.
"When the final battle comes, what will we do?" she asked, her dreamy gaze as present as ever.
Harry nodded in approval. "It's true; it's important to talk about that as well. For several years, my uncle, Hadrian Potter, and his allies have been hunting the Dark Lord across the globe. I myself faced him at the end of last year…"
A Hufflepuff student, whose face Harry didn't recognize, interrupted incredulously: "But how can we be sure you're telling the truth?"
Several students around the boy nodded doubtfully, while most merely sighed in resignation.
"I swear on my magic that I have indeed faced Voldemort, also known as Tom Riddle, during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament in the 1994-1995 school year," he declared firmly, pointing the Elder Wand at the enchanted starry ceiling of the room.
"Lumos," he said, and the wand's tip glowed softly before extinguishing.
He was determined to leave no doubt about his exploits. The greater his credibility, the more he could rally others to his cause—something that would prove invaluable in the future.
Once again, his revelations stunned those who had been unaware of the events of that night. However, a glimmer of hope lit up some faces.
If Harry had survived a duel against the Dark Lord, it meant he was stronger than Voldemort. In the event of another attack, they might have a chance to prevail as long as Harry was by their side.
"As I've already told you, the Potter family and its allies have been fighting Voldemort in the shadows for years, with success. Unfortunately, cornered as he is, he will undoubtedly make a desperate attempt," Harry explained, using the words his uncle had chosen after the attack on the Greengrass manor.
"When that day comes, we must be ready to fight him," he concluded, staring at his comrades with a determined gaze.
A heavy silence hung over the room for a moment. Everyone wanted to believe in Harry and was ready to follow him through the ordeal. After all, they owed him a lot.
Nevertheless, the prospect of a war, reminiscent of the one their parents had endured, deeply unsettled them.
"I don't know about the others, but I'll stand by your side until the end," declared Neville, brandishing his wand. "You can count on me; I swear it on my magic!"
This gesture of absolute trust brought a faint smile to Harry's face, who silently thanked his best friend for his support.
"Me too," Hermione affirmed, raising her right hand in turn.
Then it was Daphne's turn, then Ron's, and so on, until all the students in the room pledged their loyalty to him until the final victory.
"Thank you all for your support. I'll do everything I can not to let you down. I promise you that."
With that, he ended the session, detailing the homework for the next meeting and recommending several theoretical books for the upcoming exams.
"Oh, and one last important thing!" Harry called out, stopping his "students" at the threshold of the room. "If the event we discussed today happens, you'll be informed through the fake GalLeon we use for communication. It will also serve as a Portkey, bringing you directly to me. I'm counting on you all!"
Motivated by his words, the students fervently nodded before discreetly leaving the room. Fear was palpable, but thanks to Harry, they now felt equipped to face the future and protect not only their own lives but also those of their loved ones.
Soon, the room emptied, leaving only Harry, Daphne, Hermione, Neville, and Luna Lovegood.
"Thank you so much for giving us a bit of your time, Luna," Harry said sincerely, grateful for the youngest witch present.
During their first meeting, she had addressed him as "Harry, but not you." It had taken him a moment to understand that she was referring to his uncle.
At first, he had assumed it was a simple confusion. Perhaps his uncle knew the young Ravenclaw's family, and she had mistaken Hadrian's name for his.
Indeed, the two Potters bore a certain physical resemblance. And for Luna, whose mind often drifted to the moon and imaginary creatures, such an error was likely trivial.
They since had long conversations, and Harry quickly grew fond of her. He also learned that she was being bullied by some of her classmates, a situation he quickly rectified by sternly warning the troublemakers and reporting them to Professor Flitwick.
The poor Ravenclaw head, custodian of a house renowned for its thirst for knowledge and integrity, had never felt such disappointment. That his house, the vanguard of intellect and rigor, could stoop to such practices...
"Don't worry, Harry. Thanks to your last article, my father's sales have skyrocketed. He's had to acquire new presses to meet the demand," she confided, gratitude shining in her eyes.
"We're the ones who should thank you," Hermione added. "Your article, and your father's, had a… calming effect on Umbridge. We haven't had to endure her abuses since. Thank you so much!"
Luna responded with a shy smile, a slight blush betraying her emotion beneath her usual dreamy demeanor.
"I'd like to propose that we do it again, if you're willing," Harry almost begged, knowing deep down that he couldn't proceed with his plan without her.
"I have an idea in mind, but I'll need your help," he explained cryptically.
"I'd be happy to help. Professor Umbridge has been surrounded by Wrackspurts lately, so if this can help her become aware of them, I'm all for it," she replied with a mysterious smile.
Ignoring the creature she just mentioned, Harry thanked her, satisfied with his recent progress.
After this, there's no going back. The plan is in motion.
11/23/1995, 11H05, Ministry of Magic, London:
Hadrian was no longer a regular in the corridors of the Ministry of Magic. After four years spent hunting Voldemort's dark followers across the globe and attempting to stem the rising power of the Death Eaters, he was now forced to return to the political sphere.
His voice, now free from the systematic opposition of Malfoy, would resonate far more powerfully than Alexander's, who had been acting as the head of the Potter family in his stead.
The fight was nearing its end, and it now fell to him to confront the rot that plagued magical Britain, preventing it from moving forward: its government. A simple look at Dolores Umbridge's teachings was enough to gauge the enormity of the task. Under her influence, the Ministry had transformed into a bastion of stagnation, opposing all change.
'We cannot repeat the same mistakes', he told himself.
Fortunately, Hermione's appointment as Minister for Magic had brought a breath of fresh air to the wizarding world. Yet, this new momentum had swiftly stirred tensions. Too intent on deep reforms, Hermione had faced fierce resistance. Protests had erupted, giving former Death Eaters and their sympathizers an opportunity to regroup. And so...
Ginny… the children... I won't let it happen again.
Fortuna, Harry... He had a whole new family to protect. This time, he would allow no mistakes. Harry could defend himself and wouldn't be taken by surprise easily, especially since Death still needed him—for now.
After long negotiations with his allies, Hadrian had finally convinced them to help him oust Fudge. The man was a major obstacle, a dead weight paralyzing the Ministry. He had to go.
For a moment, Hadrian had considered making Fudge disappear as quietly as Rita Skeeter, but he quickly abandoned the idea. Such a move would turn Fudge into a martyr and risk swaying public opinion against him.
He needed to act within the law, impeccably. To achieve this, he required near-unanimous support in the Wizengamot and a trustworthy successor.
Initially, he had considered taking the position himself but dismissed the notion quickly. Tempting as it was, the option failed to account for his many other obligations. Being Minister demanded a significant investment of time—a luxury he simply couldn't afford.
Meanwhile, the DWT worked tirelessly to locate the mysterious place he had glimpsed in his visions, while Fortuna, Sirius, and the Order of the Phoenix battled dark forces across the country.
"We're in dire need of Aurors. The situation grows more perilous by the day," he muttered, haunted by memories of the last attack. Voldemort's forces kept swelling. Never in his lifetime had the Dark Lord commanded such an army.
Hadrian was convinced that the "Siena sisters" were involved in this surge of darkness. They, along with Fortuna, were the only ones who knew his secret, and the eldest of them had even managed to counteract his temporal magic. Such meddling with the course of time couldn't be coincidental.
'Everything is in place. Fudge must fall—tonight', the bounty hunter growled inwardly, scanning the Ministry assembly. Every glance, every whisper was meticulously observed.
"This session of November 23, 1995, is drawing to an end," announced Dumbledore, his voice resonating through the chamber.
"Does anyone have anything to add?"
Typically, this question went unanswered, as proposals made without prior preparation were almost always rejected. But that night was different. Hadrian felt a palpable tension in the air, a feverish anticipation.
"I have something important to say," he declared, rising to his feet, his gaze burning with unshakable determination. All eyes turned to him, intrigued by this unexpected intervention.
"It's time for you to open your eyes, gentlemen. No matter how hard you try to ignore it, Voldemort is back," he thundered, his voice drowning out the protests of the Minister and his allies.
"Silence!" roared Dumbledore, imposing his authority.
"The Dark Lord is dead!" Fudge exclaimed, his face flushed with anger. "You're lying!"
Hadrian shook his head in dismay. "You see, gentlemen, the reaction of our Minister... our government's leader to this reality?" he said, his voice sharp with indignation. His gaze swept the assembly, seeking to sway the skeptics.
"For yes, it is reality!" he proclaimed forcefully, meeting Fudge's furious glare head-on. "And I have the proof!"
He pulled two sealed vials from his pocket and handed them to Amelia Bones. "These vials contain irrefutable memories. I ask you to verify that they have not been tampered with."
The Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement summoned two experienced Aurors, who, after subjecting the vials to a series of diagnostic spells, confirmed the authenticity of the memories. She even called for an Unspeakable, who also validated them.
A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the chamber. Everyone present understood the gravity of the situation.
"If you don't believe my words, then see for yourselves!" Hadrian declared, projecting the memory of Harry's battle with Voldemort into the chamber. A heavy silence settled, broken only by the distinctive crackling of magic.
Hadrian had learned this spell from the Black family grimoire years ago but had never used it. As he pondered the best way to persuade his peers, he had recalled this powerful incantation. Each member of the Wizengamot was thus forced to experience, if only briefly, the fierce duel that his younger counterpart had fought against Voldemort. Some shuddered with horror; others felt a mix of admiration and fear. To this memory, he had added his own descent into the cemetery, demonstrating that the Dark Lord wasn't invincible, even to someone who wasn't Harry Potter. A minor temporal manipulation had allowed him to speed up certain sequences, ensuring some words remained unheard.
'Technically, I am Harry Potter. But they don't know that', he admitted silently, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
No sooner had the memory ended than reactions erupted from all sides. Murmurs, exclamations, questions... Even Dumbledore had to call for silence multiple times to regain order.
"Do you have further proof?" the old man asked, knowing full well that Hadrian wouldn't stop there.
"Indeed. Here is the full folder," Hadrian began, conjuring a thick stack of papers in front of each member of the Wizengamot. "It contains all the written evidence, testimonies of those who witnessed his magical signature, expenditures made to support his cause, and all the information you might need to address your questions."
Months of work had been necessary to compile this evidence. Every detail had been meticulously verified, every source corroborated.
And here it was—the reason why he had been unable to act before: the lack of irrefutable proof. His memories, no matter how convincing, could always be contested. But with this folder, he was confident he could silence his detractors.
Now, he could move on to the second phase of his plan.
"That's a lie! It's all false!" the Minister raged, before Hadrian silenced him with a mere wave of his hand.
"Look at who governs us! A coward like him, who knows everything—who already knows all this evidence—and still insists we bow our heads! Voldemort takes lives every day because of this man's inaction!" Hadrian thundered, his voice echoing through the chamber. "And you want to let him continue controlling us? Nonsense! I propose he be removed from office!"
Thus began the second part of his plan: the removal of Fudge.
Once again, his declaration unleashed chaos in the assembly, forcing Dumbledore to raise his voice yet again to restore order.
'You're next, Albus', Hadrian thought with undisguised satisfaction. He knew that the Headmaster, despite his initial reluctance, would eventually lend his support.
"Silence! In light of the recent revelations by Lord Potter, I find myself compelled to approve this motion. All those in favor, raise your hands!" Dumbledore's commanding voice reverberated throughout the chamber. A heavy silence fell, and then hands began to rise slowly.
'First, the Light faction', Hadrian thought, his gaze sweeping the rows of members. Among this group, he achieved near-unanimity, with only those closely tied to the Ministry abstaining. Augusta Longbottom, the faction's leader, gave a victorious smile.
He then turned to his own faction. 'Now, the Gray faction… Alexander, it's your move', he thought, a discreet smile crossing his lips. He nodded toward his closest ally, who rose to speak.
"I fully support Lord Potter's motion," Alexander declared loudly. "This is not merely about the Dark Lord, but about the betrayal of our Minister. He must be removed!"
Alexander's speech quickly rallied a significant portion of the Gray faction, even though it was composed of members with diverse opinions. He had found the right words to sway the undecided.
'And finally…' Hadrian thought as he turned toward Sirius.
"I stand with Lord Greengrass. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black supports the motion," Sirius declared, his words compelling, sometimes begrudgingly, the support of certain members within the Dark faction.
The animagus hadn't enjoyed maintaining his position within this faction. However, the alliances forged by his grandfather still held strong for the majority, ensuring a few extra votes in favor of Fudge's removal.
"The majority has voted! As of today, Minister Cornelius Fudge is removed from office for gross misconduct!" Dumbledore proclaimed, amplifying his voice magically to rise above Fudge's furious protests.
"He will be tried for high treason in the coming days. In the meantime, this session cannot conclude until an interim Minister is appointed. Does anyone wish to stand?"
Dumbledore's question finally quieted the heated members of the Wizengamot, as all eyes turned toward Hadrian. He, under the scrutinizing gaze of his peers, shook his head.
"I won't nominate myself for this position. My place is on the battlefield, not confined to an office," he clarified, taking many in the Dark faction by surprise. They had assumed he orchestrated all of this to seize power.
"I propose Augusta Longbottom," Alexander spoke up, addressing the assembly. "She fought in the first war, and thus knows the Dark Lord's methods. Furthermore, with her son having been gravely injured by a Death Eater, I believe none among us would doubt her allegiance."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the chamber. Augusta Longbottom, visibly moved, stood and thanked her peers. A new era for the Ministry of Magic was dawning.
"Lady Longbottom, do you accept the nomination?" Dumbledore asked the woman, who stood with a resolute expression.
"Yes. Taking this position doesn't delight me, but I recognize it is necessary to confront Voldemort," she declared, casting a meaningful glance at Hadrian. A spark of defiance lit her eyes.
"Very well. Does anyone else wish to stand?" the elderly wizard added, scanning the room.
A tense silence followed before a member of the Dark faction spoke up. According to Hadrian's recollections, the man was a former ally of Lucius Malfoy who had inherited his influence within the faction. He nominated himself, but his speech, filled with doubt and ambivalence, failed to convince the assembly.
"No one else? So be it. Let us vote on Lady Longbottom. All those in favor of Augusta Longbottom taking over as Minister for Magic, raise your hands," Dumbledore called.
Once again, the majority of witches and wizards present raised their hands. The victory was less decisive than Fudge's removal, but it was clear that Longbottom was the favored candidate.
"The majority has voted. Today, November 23, 1995, the Wizengamot welcomes the new Minister for Magic: Lady Augusta Longbottom!" Dumbledore declared, prompting a wave of applause. A few muffled boos arose from the Dark faction, but they were quickly drowned out by the cheering.
"Thank you all for your trust!" Augusta said once the room had quieted. Her gaze swept over the assembly, lingering momentarily on Hadrian. "I count on you to stand by me throughout this fight. Difficult times lie ahead, and no matter how long they last, we must be prepared. Whether this interim mandate lasts two weeks, six months, or three years, it makes no difference. Our goal is to ensure stability in our world, so that children from all backgrounds can grow and become respected wizards," she declared with unwavering conviction.
"Therefore, as my first act as Minister for Magic," she exclaimed, taking a deep breath, "the Ministry of Magic formally declares war on the dark wizard known as Voldemort and all his followers, the Death Eaters!"
11/23/1995, 19H31, Hogwarts, Scotland:
Harry patiently waited for Umbridge's arrival in her office. The woman had singled him out after the publication of his latest article in the Lovegoods' newspaper and had assigned him detention.
Why had she acted this way? Because in that article, Harry publicly announced Voldemort's return, detailing his previous encounters and battles.
The piece had taken the form of a lengthy interview, which not only delighted Luna—grateful for the support Harry was offering her father—but also served Harry's greater goal: bringing down Umbridge.
He had wanted to handle things in a perfectly legal manner. However, he knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that alone.
This woman had spent months tormenting the students, forcing them to use enchanted quills that carved words into their skin and interrogating them under heavy doses of Veritaserum.
Her teaching methods were disastrous, and on top of that, the Undersecretary to the Minister barely hid her racist views toward anyone who wasn't a pure blood.
So, he had to take revenge. Not just for himself, but for everyone who had suffered because of her. And he knew exactly how to do it.
The first step of his plan was simple and would achieve several goals. First, he would ensure that an article about Voldemort was published. With the record sales The Quibbler had achieved with its previous edition featuring Dolores Umbridge, it was impossible for her to miss this one.
That was where the second step came into play: detention. The moment she would learn of the article, it was inevitable that she would punish him in some way.
That would provide him the opportunity to be alone with her. No eavesdropping portraits, no witnesses, nothing. After all, her punishments were far from legal either. She couldn't afford to have anyone witness what she was about to do.
And he intended to make the most of it.
'Here she comes,' he thought as he heard the door creak open behind him.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter," she greeted him with her grating voice. "I assume you know why you're here."
Determined to toy with her, Harry feigned ignorance. "Not at all, Professor. Have I done something wrong?"
The witch groaned in frustration, her mask of false kindness slipping quickly. "Don't mock me!" she snapped. "You know very well why you're here!"
She moved to the opposite side of the desk and placed her teacup on it. "You lied, Mr. Potter. Once again, you're trying to sow discord by exploiting your popularity."
Harry tilted his head, exaggerating his curiosity. "Oh! You're talking about that article on Voldemort!" he exclaimed, emphasizing the name that made the woman flinch.
"You're right," he continued, taking her by surprise. "I didn't tell everything about Voldemort. I didn't mention the details of our duel, nor the possible locations where Volde—"
"Stop! Stop it immediately!" she interrupted, veins bulging on her forehead, ready to burst. "Stop saying that name!"
She pulled out a second cup and filled it with tea before sliding it toward him. "I think we should calm down," she suggested, barely hiding her irritation.
"You're absolutely right!" Harry replied, his tone mockingly cheerful.
He noticed her toad-like face tightening as she clenched her fists but chose not to dwell on it. "Have some tea," she suggested, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. "It should help soothe you, and then we can continue this discussion properly."
Harry nodded and took the cup. As quick as a flash, he summoned one of the vials hidden in his pocket and discreetly shattered it over the tea, letting the liquid mix with the drink.
He didn't know the exact composition of the tea—perhaps she had stopped using Veritaserum, who could say? But judging by her expression, he wasn't taking any chances.
"It's delicious," he commented innocently after taking a small sip. "Thank you so much!"
He watched her eyes widen with fury as she realized her plan had failed, but she quickly forced another strained smile. "I'm glad you can appreciate good tea."
In truth, Harry thought the liquid tasted more like troll urine than tea, its flavor closer to medicine than a warm drink. However, he refrained from voicing this, knowing the woman would likely lose her temper in seconds.
"Rumors are circulating at Hogwarts that you're leading a… group, Mr. Potter," she said, clearly trying to regain control.
Harry shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Professor. Groups of more than four students are prohibited. I wouldn't dream of breaking the rules!" he replied, feigning indignation. He noticed her eye twitch, which filled him with satisfaction before she regained her composure.
"Very well. I hope you understand the importance of following these regulations. The Ministry is counting on you."
With her first attempt thwarted, Dolores switched tactics: the blood quill. "Now, let's address why you're here. For your punishment, you will write lines, Mr. Potter," she announced with a smug smile.
"Lines? Very well. What quill should I use?" he asked, playing innocent.
"One of mine, of course. I want to ensure the message… leaves an impression."
Harry had to stifle a laugh at her theatrical tone. Umbridge spoke as if she held some unattainable secret, a mountain of knowledge he could never hope to access.
In reality, he knew everything. He was fully aware of what would happen when he used this quill. He knew what was in the tea and why so many students had been interrogated under Veritaserum during detentions.
Unbeknownst to her, by handing him this quill, Umbridge was walking straight into his trap.
"What should I write?" he asked, taking the enchanted quill and preparing to write.
"Write: I must not tell lies," she ordered, positioning herself by the window to better observe his face.
She was waiting for it—the moment the quill would begin carving the words into his flesh. But Harry wasn't concerned. Why? Because they were both waiting for the exact same thing.
So he began to write, nodding discreetly to himself. His plan was moving into its next phase.
He wrote once, then twice, then again and again until, on the fifth repetition, the words etched themselves into the back of his hand.
The pain was more than tolerable. For someone who had endured Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse or Hadrian's ruthless training sessions, the suffering inflicted by the quill was nothing more than a mild sting.
Still, Harry decided to showcase his acting skills, grimacing and contorting his face into an expression of intense pain. He watched as Umbridge's face lit up with glee at the sight of his supposed agony. She slowly approached him, savoring what she believed to be her victory, until...
*Flash* *Flash* *Flash*
Three bursts of light erupted from a corner of the room, temporarily blinding the teacher. Luna Lovegood emerged from under an invisibility cloak, a modified Muggle camera in her hands.
"This Muggle device works perfectly, Harry," she said dreamily.
The young Gryffindor nodded.
"AAAAAH! What are you doing here, Miss Lovegood?!" shrieked Umbridge, as Harry stood.
"Oh, don't mind her," he replied mockingly. "She was just here to capture a criminal red-handed. Nothing too important."
"The first photo is stunning. You can clearly see your pain, contrasting with the joy on her face," Luna continued brightly, as though discussing the weather.
"Th-thank you, Luna," Harry stammered, unsure of how to respond to the surreal situation.
He noticed Umbridge reaching for her wand, her senses returning. Not willing to take any chances, Harry grabbed her wrist, swiftly disarmed her, and stunned her with a quick spell.
"I'm not sure she knows how to use her wand for anything other than Lumos, but better safe than sorry," he said before levitating Umbridge's unconscious body.
"Well done, Harry!" the young Ravenclaw cheered as though he had just won a sporting tournament. She approached him and handed back the invisibility cloak. "Oh, and thank you for letting me use a Deathly Hallow. I've always wondered what they looked like in real life," she added, leaving Harry slightly stunned.
He froze, his eyes widening in shock, before turning to her.
"You know what?" he sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'm not even going to try to understand. You're welcome, Luna."
He was beginning to grasp the truth behind the saying: "Sometimes, ignorance is a priceless gift." The more he learned about the Ravenclaw beside him, the less safe he felt with his own secrets.
With just one glance, it felt as though Luna had unraveled the entirety of his existence.
"I don't have time to dwell on this," he thought, covering Umbridge's body with the invisibility cloak.
"Could you make copies of the photos?" Harry asked. "Of course, feel free to publish some in The Quibbler," he added, noticing the hopeful look in his new ally's eyes.
"Of course! Thank you so much, Harry. I really feel like I have friends when I'm with you," she said as she started heading toward Ravenclaw Tower.
"Luna!" he called after her from the doorway of Umbridge's office. "We are friends!" was all he said before heading in the opposite direction.
He didn't see the girl freeze in the hallway, a single tear sliding down her cheek before she resumed walking, her heart full of happiness.
'Next step,' Harry thought as he strode through the corridors. 'I hope my Legilimency skills will be enough; otherwise…'
He preferred not to imagine what might happen if something went wrong while he attempted to manipulate Umbridge's mind.
In any case, it's too late to turn back now.
11/24/1995, 00H07, Potter Manor, England:
"Whew!" sighed Fortuna as she collapsed onto the bed, her legs still trembling after the passionate night they had just shared. "Your endurance is truly unmatched in every way," she teased playfully, though noting he still showed no signs of exhaustion.
"I wouldn't want to disappoint you," he replied with a mischievous grin, before letting himself fall beside her.
A soothing calm settled between them, a tranquil break after the intensity of their time together. Taking advantage of the moment, Fortuna moved closer to Hadrian, resting her head gently on his chest. Her fingers began tracing the old scars etched into his body, silent witnesses to battles fought and a life shaped by strife that had left its indelible marks.
"I'm truly glad I met you, Fortuna," murmured Hadrian, his voice filled with a rare sincerity he reserved only for the woman who had managed to break through the armor around his heart.
"And I, you," she responded softly. "I love you, Hadrian. For you, it might not seem like much… but for me, it means everything. I never thought I was even capable of feeling something this deep," she confessed, her words spilling out like a half-whispered secret.
Hadrian nodded, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He knew exactly what she meant. He too had believed for a long time that love had no place in his life—not after everything he'd endured following the destruction of his family. The mere idea of love had seemed unreachable, until Fortuna entered his life and shattered all his assumptions.
Silence returned, wrapping the room in a shared sense of peace. Their breaths gradually fell into a steady rhythm. Their hearts beat in unison, a subtle echo of their deep connection, as sleep began to beckon them gently.
"How is Harry?" Fortuna asked suddenly, a flicker of worry crossing her face. Despite the intimacy of the moment, she couldn't keep her thoughts from drifting to the young boy.
Since learning the truth about Hadrian's identity, her affection for Harry had only grown. She had come to see him more and more as her nephew, and after hearing the harrowing details of Hadrian's past, she feared destiny might be equally cruel to the young Gryffindor. She didn't want history to repeat itself.
"He's fine," Hadrian reassured her, his voice steady and calming. "With Fudge's removal, his mission at Hogwarts should become much simpler. Perhaps it might even no longer be necessary, especially now that Augusta is about to recall Umbridge to the Ministry. I have a feeling she'll relish dismissing her."
Fortuna nodded, feeling a measure of relief but still somewhat pensive. "Then what's left for us to do?" she asked. She already knew the answer, but there was something in Hadrian's tone—a new gravity—that compelled her to ask.
"Now," he said, his gaze hardening slightly, "it's time to draw Tom out of hiding once and for all."
His words, spoken with unyielding determination, hung in the air like a solemn vow. Both of them knew that the final confrontation was near, and that everything they had done so far was merely a prelude to the ultimate test. Their future—and the future of everyone they cared for—depended on it.
?/?/?, ?H?, ?, ?:
"The final battle approaches, Harry Potter," resonated a deep, ethereal voice. Harry recognized it instantly. It was the same voice he heard in every nightmare, the one that haunted his nights and filled him with dread the moment he closed his eyes.
It was the voice of Death.
"Will you be able to face him?" it continued, calm and almost indifferent. "After all, he has already defeated you once, even when you had the element of surprise."
Harry remained frozen, unable to respond, unable even to move. It was as if an invisible force bound him, compelling him to listen to the words of this absolute entity, whose authority transcended all notions of life and death.
"I offer you a deal, Harry Potter. When the moment comes, let me take control. I will ensure victory, the death of those who must die, and your survival," it offered, its voice soft, almost seductive, catching Harry off guard.
A wave of incredulity swept through his mind, but he stayed cautious. He wasn't a fool; he knew Death was never as generous as it seemed. It was a master of manipulation, luring mortals into its traps with promises that were as alluring as they were deceptive.
"I suppose you're wondering what I'll take in exchange?" Death continued in a peaceful tone, as if reading his thoughts. "Nothing. My only goal is to reclaim the souls that elude me. If you were to die, I would lose all chance of retrieving them. I have no reason to deceive you."
Its words drifted around him, hypnotic, but Harry still couldn't reply. Even if he could have, he knew he wouldn't have said a thing. A heavy silence stretched between them, like a chasm no words could bridge.
Why? Because he knew he must not accept. He was certain of it—something dark, something malevolent, lay hidden behind this seemingly selfless offer. Death never acted without ulterior motives, and Harry couldn't afford to take such a risk, no matter how tempting it seemed.
"I'll give you time to consider," the voice continued, still calm but carrying an inevitable, almost sinister undertone. A sudden, violent tugging sensation pulled at his chest, as though an invisible hand were dragging him forcefully back into his own body.
"You will come to me, Harry Potter. You will have no choice," it whispered one last time, just as he jolted awake in his bed at Hogwarts.
Harry's eyes flew open, his breath shallow and his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He quickly surveyed his surroundings, finding himself alone in the familiar dimness of the dormitory. The moon cast a pale light through the curtains, and all seemed quiet. Yet he knew that what he had just experienced was no mere dream.
He let himself fall back against the mattress, his gaze fixed on the stone ceiling with a weary heaviness. It was still late in the night, and though fatigue weighed on his eyelids, he knew it would be nearly impossible to return to sleep. The voice of Death still echoed in his mind, its poisoned proposition replaying on a loop, like a grim melody he couldn't silence.
'Uncle Hadrian… Sirius… What should I do?' he wondered silently, his thoughts instinctively turning to those who had always guided him. He felt a monumental weight pressing down on his shoulders, as though the shadow of his encounter with Death was already tightening its grip around him.
Harry knew that, no matter the advice he might receive, the final decision would be his alone. But how could he choose when faced with such a fearsome entity? How could he discern the truth when dealing with Death itself?
The dormitory's silence, broken only by the steady breathing of his sleeping classmates, was oppressive. Alone with his thoughts, Harry felt more vulnerable than ever. The uncertain and perilous future seemed to close in around him, and the voice of Death, though momentarily distant, still lingered, hovering over him, ready to return at his weakest moment.
"You will come to me," it had said. Harry shivered. He knew he could not avoid the encounter, but the conditions under which it would happen remained his to decide.