CHAPTER 10: CHAMBERS OF THE UNSEEN
Sirius found himself amidst the chaos of packing, his belongings scattered across the room like pieces of a puzzle waiting to be put together in his new flat in Manchester. The previous day had been dedicated to cleaning and preparing the place, and tonight marked the moment he would spend his first night there since before his stint in Azkaban.
In the drawing-room, Andromeda and Tonks had made a habit of dropping by for lunch, their presence a welcome distraction. Bellatrix, a constant enigma, lingered there as well. Meanwhile, Harry sat patiently at the kitchen table, the anticipation of his godfather's departure palpable.
As Sirius strolled into the kitchen, a sense of finality hung in the air. "Alright, I'm ready to go," he announced, his gaze meeting Harry's.
"That's good. I might swing by to check out the new place in a few days," Harry responded casually, eyeing the man he considered family.
"It would be a good way to escape the Black sisters," Sirius chuckled, settling into the seat opposite Harry.
"Yeah, I just feel bad you never got a chance to see Narcissa before you left," Harry remarked, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
Sirius grinned back. "I call it a narrow escape."
"Not quite, cousin," a voice interrupted, and the two turned to find Narcissa Malfoy gracefully stepping out of the fireplace.
"Cissa, it's good to see you. And this must be your son," Harry greeted, noting the blond toddler in Narcissa's arms.
"Yes, this is my Draco," Narcissa replied fondly before shifting her attention to Sirius. "I heard Bella sent you on the retreat."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "She changed into a cobra and chased me through the house," he explained, shooting Harry an amused glance.
"I don't like snakes," Sirius defended, eyeing the squirming tot in Narcissa's arms.
"Where is Bella?" Narcissa inquired, turning her attention back to Harry.
"The drawing room with Andromeda and her daughter," Harry informed her.
"Then I shall excuse myself," Narcissa stated, gracefully exiting through the door.
"I take it this is a surprise visit?" Sirius asked, ensuring Narcissa was out of earshot.
"Yes, she said she would be by soon. I guess today is soon," Harry replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"You're mental for letting all three of them get together in the same house. The Marauders made a nuisance of themselves, but they never had anything on the Black sisters," Sirius warned, genuine concern etched on his face.
"Then I might be coming to visit you more often than I expected," Harry admitted, not doubting Sirius' words on the potential chaos of the Black sisters' gathering.
Sirius pondered for a moment before speaking thoughtfully, "You're more than welcome, but we might need to sort out your identity."
"Yeah, I definitely need to consult someone about my... situation. Time travel isn't exactly my area of expertise," Harry admitted, his mind already occupied with the complexities ahead.
"Who are you planning to see?" Sirius inquired, a tinge of confusion evident in his voice.
"The Frog. Head of the Chrono Department in the Department of Mysteries," Harry replied, his tone holding a sense of determination.
Sirius looked concerned. "I don't think strolling into the Department of Mysteries is a wise move."
Harry chuckled. "No kidding. I'll have to make a more discreet visit."
"Good luck with that. Unspeakables aren't easy to track down," Sirius cautioned, his worry apparent.
"I've been trained to find people who don't want to be found," Harry remarked with a nonchalant shrug.
"Alright, just promise me you'll be careful," Sirius urged, rising from his seat.
"I will, but the person I'm seeking is a researcher, not someone inclined toward combat," Harry reassured confidently.
"Good luck, then," Sirius said, pulling Harry into a sturdy, reassuring hug.
"Thanks. And good luck with mini-me," Harry teased, a smirk dancing on his lips.
"It'll be fine," Sirius replied before stepping into the fireplace to Floo away.
With a grin, Harry ascended to the drawing-room, discovering the trio of sisters engaged in animated conversation over tea, while Tonks playfully interacted with an exuberant Draco.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Harry mused silently, entering the room and observing the lively scene with a mix of amusement and apprehension.
Harry found tracking down the enigmatic figure known as the Frog to be surprisingly straightforward. Sneaking into the atrium at day's end, he discreetly cast a tracking charm on the man's shoe as he made his way home. It was a mundane task for someone seasoned in such covert activities.
Navigating the protective wards shrouding the Frog's residence proved more challenging, yet not insurmountable. While he wasn't a certified curse breaker, Harry had undergone extensive training in stealth and infiltration. Clad in his nondescript gray robes with the hood drawn up, he slipped through the barriers undetected, utilizing skills honed through years of experience.
Silently slipping through the door, Harry stepped into the house. The subdued lighting cast elongated shadows across the room, and there, by the crackling fire, sat his quarry. The Frog was engrossed in a thick tome, occasionally pausing to inscribe notes onto a piece of parchment. Harry observed the scene, his features hidden beneath the shadow of his hood, a sense of purpose guiding his movements as he approached the figure in the flickering firelight.
"You never stop working do you?" Harry said as he took a seat making the man jump and look
In the dimly lit room, Croaker's eyes narrowed as he demanded, "Who are you, and how did you get into my house?"
A wry smile played on Harry's lips as he replied, "You can call me Reaper. I'm trained to find people who don't want to be found."
Croaker's gaze flickered to the emblem on Harry's robes, and he visibly tensed. "Spectre VII?"
Harry nodded. "I was, or I suppose, I am, before I got sent back to this time."
"So you're the one who tore Azkaban apart a few weeks ago?" Croaker inquired, a mix of comprehension and unease settling on his pallid face.
Harry's response was nonchalant. "Yes, my team and I were captured in a raid. The leader found it amusing to send me back to an Azkaban that still employed Dementors," he explained with a casual shrug.
Croaker's scrutiny intensified. "What do you want with me?"
"Advice," Harry replied with ease. "You're the foremost expert on time travel."
A nervous chuckle escaped Croaker. "If you're hoping for me to send you back, I can't. I can barely go backward in time, much less forward."
"I understand that moving forward in time is not possible. That's not the part I'm interested in. What I want to know is how dangerous it is for two versions of a person to coexist in the same timeline," Harry cut to the chase, his tone revealing the urgency underlying his inquiry.
"It's not dangerous at all," Croaker reassured, his tone serious. "There's no magical force that will make the copy disappear. Despite what muggle science fiction books might suggest, it won't unravel the fabric of time or anything as dramatic. The only risk lies in one version of a person attempting to harm the other. We tend to exaggerate the dangers to dissuade people from taking advantage of being in two places at once when we lend out time turners."
"Interesting," Harry mused, a sense of relief washing over him. "So, I can coexist with my other self without triggering a universal catastrophe?"
"Yes, as long as the other version of you doesn't recognize you, it'll be fine," Croaker affirmed with simplicity.
"That won't be an issue," Harry replied assuredly. "I want to thank you for your help with this and apologize."
"Apologize for what?" Croaker inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"Obliviate," Harry uttered softly, waving his wand to erase the last fifteen minutes from the man's memory. Swiftly, he exited the room before Croaker could regain his senses.
Slipping out of the house, Harry navigated back through the protective wards. Everything had gone better than expected, and the insights gleaned from the Frog were reassuring. A weight lifted from Harry's shoulders as he made his way, his mind brimming with newfound clarity and a plan beginning to take shape.
Harry harbored no intentions of being a significant influence on his younger self, mindful of the potential pitfalls that a chance meeting might pose. He sought to avoid any upheaval in the delicate balance of the universe. However, armed with the knowledge he had gained from the Frog, Harry felt a newfound assurance about visiting his godfather, especially after liberating his younger counterpart from the clutches of the Dursleys.
The notion of securing a fresh identity lingered in his mind, a task he deemed necessary. While he had initially contemplated a visit to the Department of Mysteries, the unspeakable ritual performed upon his conscription left him with a magical identity tied solely to the moniker "Reaper." Perhaps Gringotts held the key to his dilemma. Now able to legally claim the Peverell title, Harry speculated that the goblins could fashion an identity around that, offering him the anonymity he sought.
'I'll deal with it later,' Harry decided, shaking his head to dispel immediate concerns. With a determined mindset, he disapparated back to Grimmauld Place, prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead, armed with newfound knowledge and a sense of purpose.
Harry savored his lunch, engrossed in the parchment Narcissa had handed him back when Sirius had just moved into his new flat. Lucius Malfoy's meticulously detailed schedule sprawled across the parchment, revealing a vulnerability that Harry couldn't ignore. The ministry seemed the most opportune place to strike, but he needed to devise a plan that would make it appear as an accident.
Lost in thought, Harry felt the weight of Bellatrix's curious gaze on him. "Whatcha thinking about?" she inquired, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"The Malfoy situation," Harry responded, casting a discreet glance at Tonks, who was seated on his other side, seemingly absorbed in the conversation.
"Oh, Can Belka help?" Bellatrix asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes.
"Maybe, I still have to do a bit of research first though," Harry mused, contemplating the intricate web he was about to navigate.
Bellatrix had been visibly on edge for the past couple of days, her anxiety about the impending trial bubbling beneath her composed exterior. Harry sensed her unease and knew she was more worried than she let on.
As the trio continued their discussion, Tonks, eager to divert the conversation, chimed in, "Hey Harry, do you play Quidditch?"
Harry looked up from the parchment, meeting Tonks' inquisitive gaze. "I did when I was younger," he admitted.
A spark of excitement lit up Tonks' eyes. "So you know how to fly a broom?"
"Yep, why?" Harry inquired, genuinely curious about where the conversation was heading.
"Because dad said he couldn't fly a broom, and mum says she's too old to fly, so no one will teach me," Tonks complained, a pout forming on her face.
A mischievous grin spread across Harry's face. "I could, but there's nowhere to fly in London," he replied, contemplating the possibilities that teaching Tonks to fly might open up.
"If you're up for it, you can come to our house. We've got plenty of space for flying," Andromeda interjected, her eyes lighting up with the prospect of some outdoor activity.
"Alright, I haven't flown since we got here," Harry responded, a sense of anticipation building as he looked forward to a change of scenery.
Bellatrix, ever eager for excitement, chimed in, "Can I come?"
"Yes, but you'll have to be in your animagus form. Ted's at home today," Andromeda explained, considering the logistics.
A mischievous smile played on Bellatrix's lips. "And bringing a young, handsome man over would be less unsettling to him than his sister-in-law accompanying her boyfriend?"
Andromeda's expression shifted to one of realization. "Oh, I didn't think of that."
"It might be better to wait until after Bella's trial when she's off of house arrest," Harry suggested, sensing the potential awkwardness of the situation.
"Otherwise, your husband might think you're having an affair with Harry," Bellatrix teased, a smirk playing on her face.
Tonks, always curious, interjected with a question, "What's an affair?"
"Don't worry about it, Nymphadora," Andromeda replied, shooting a pointed glare at her sister.
"I will teach you to fly," Harry promised, hoping to steer the conversation away from potentially uncomfortable territory and onto more exciting prospects.
"You promise?" Tonks asked with hopeful eyes.
"I promise," Harry replied solemnly, his commitment evident in his words.
"Thank you, Harry. I was never a very strong flyer, and Ted is hopeless at it," Andromeda expressed her gratitude.
"Harry is an amazing flyer; he flew me out of Azkaban," Bellatrix interjected, her tone carrying a mix of admiration and nostalgia.
"I do alright on a broom," Harry said modestly, downplaying his flying abilities.
"And he has a great broom," Bellatrix added, her words taking a teasing turn that left Andromeda blushing.
"Bellatrix, don't be crass," Andromeda admonished, trying to maintain a sense of decorum.
"You and Narcissa were always such prudes," Bellatrix sighed, unapologetic for her straightforwardness.
"Nymphadora is very impressionable, and I don't want her picking up your bad habits," Andromeda defended her decision to uphold certain standards.
"Don't call me Nymphadora!" Tonks exclaimed, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"How about Nymmie or Dora?" Harry suggested innocently, attempting to find a more agreeable nickname.
"No, Nymmie sounds like something you would call a baby, and Dora is an old lady name," Tonks protested.
Curiosity sparked in Harry's eyes. "Well, what's your middle name?"
"Vulpecula," Tonks muttered, as if confessing a secret.
Harry couldn't help but turn to Andromeda and inquire, "What did the poor girl do to you to deserve that?"
"Blacks always name their children after constellations," Andromeda explained matter-of-factly.
"I see," Harry said, turning back to Tonks. "Tonks it is," he declared, eliciting a smile from the young witch and a disapproving scowl from Andromeda.
The remainder of the evening unfolded in quiet simplicity. Andromeda and Tonks bid their farewells around four, leaving Harry and Bella to share a quiet dinner before retiring early for the night.
Once they had climbed into bed, Bellatrix's vulnerability surfaced. "I'm scared, Harry," she admitted, her voice laced with unease.
"Of the trial?" Harry inquired, his concern evident.
"Yes, what if they send me back to the Dementors?" Bellatrix's worry was palpable.
"I won't let them do that," Harry reassured her, determination resonating in his voice.
"So, you're going to be there?" she asked hopefully.
"Yes, I will go dressed in my work robes. No one will say a word about me being there," Harry affirmed, his commitment unwavering.
"Thank you," she whispered before pulling him into a kiss that began tender but soon ignited into fervor. The simple exchange of affection swiftly escalated, with Bellatrix's hand finding its way into the waistband of his boxers, and his own lifting her nightgown over her head.
Clothes were shed with an urgency born of desire, and soon Harry found himself sheathed deep inside her. Their lovemaking unfolded at a slow, almost torturous pace. Harry was atop her, his hips executing long, deep strokes. Her legs entwined around him, attempting to draw him in even deeper, while their lips remained fused, exchanging moans that echoed in the intimate space they shared.
The intensity between them escalated with each passing moment, their breaths growing more erratic as beads of perspiration adorned their bodies, catching and reflecting the flickering candlelight. Lost in the throes of passion, they became a tableau of desire.
As they approached the brink of release, the air crackled with electricity. Their bodies seemed to shimmer in the soft glow of the candles, creating an ethereal scene in the intimate space they shared. Bella's scream pierced the air as her inner muscles tightened around Harry, and her eyes rolled back in bliss. A powerful orgasm overtook her, and for a moment, she saw stars.
Unexpectedly, Harry intensified his movements, catching her off guard and eliciting a louder wail from her. He picked up the pace, pounding into her with a fervor that extended her orgasm, intertwining their pleasure in a crescendo of ecstasy.
Beneath him, Bellatrix went limp, surrendering to the waves of pleasure crashing over her. Harry, undeterred, continued his powerful thrusts, each one drawing another ecstatic cry from her until he could no longer hold back. With a guttural groan, he erupted, the force of his release causing him to shudder. Harry continued to thrust, shooting his essence deep within her as her inner walls pulsed around him, the culmination of their passion echoing in the dimly lit room.
After their shared climax, Harry ceased his movements, lingering in the moment as he studied Bellatrix. Her disheveled hair framed her face, and her eyes remained closed as she drew in deep breaths. Leaning down, Harry pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before easing himself off her and lying beside her, his own breaths coming heavily.
"That... was the most intense orgasm I have ever had," Bellatrix admitted, her voice punctuated by heavy panting.
"I can tell. I've never heard you scream like that," Harry remarked lazily, still catching his own breath.
"It was really good," Bellatrix said with a satisfied smile, rolling over to lay her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly.
"We'll get through this together, I promise," Harry assured her, his fingers gently tracing through her hair.
Bellatrix didn't offer a verbal response, already succumbing to the weight of exhaustion and drifting into sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing signaling a moment of peace in the midst of their tumultuous circumstances.
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