The Art of War
"Good, now remember to use everything around you. Anything can be a weapon, lad."
Harry took the advice, transfiguring some of splinters from the dummies he'd already destroyed into projectiles and banishing them towards the rest. His eyes widened however, when they were returned as metal javelins with the tips on fire.
Throwing himself to the floor, he managed to avoid them, but was sent sprawling by a sudden gust of wind.
By the time he managed to avoid another onslaught of attacks, Antioch Peverell was standing in front of him, shaking his head disapprovingly.
"You must be aware of your surroundings at all times," he chastised. "In battle, there is no such thing as a fair fight. An attack can come from anywhere at any given moment."
Harry nodded his understanding.
On the advice of Ignotus, he had enlisted the help of both Antioch and Cadmus, the latter to work with him on using the stone and the former for his prowess in the art of combat.
It turned out that Antioch had indeed dedicated himself to it as much as Ignotus had to his scholarly efforts, and Harry had been made to feel like a novice by his uncle, several generations over.
"Take a short break," Antioch urged. "You are getting better, but you must be much better than you are."
"I know," Harry murmured, steadying his breathing.
He'd always pushed himself whilst he was in the room, but Antioch pushed him harder. Drilling him physically and magically, making the workouts Oliver used to put him through feel like a mere warm up.
'I must break you to build you into what you must be…'
That was the warning Harry had been given upon summoning Antioch, and the man had done all he could to remain true to his intentions. Day in and day out, Harry would leave the room feeling utterly broken, unable to fathom how it could get much harder, and yet, Antioch always managed to leave him in a trembling mess of sweat and exhaustion.
His time with Cadmus was less taxing, but no less useful.
The stone did not only act as a gate for the departed to return through, but as an incredibly complex relic in its own right. Cadmus had taught Harry how to summon ghosts, spirits, and even poltergeists to assist him in the throes of battles.
It was an undertaking that took considerable concentration to achieve, though it was undoubtedly worth it, even for the intimidations factor alone.
Thus far, Harry was able to conjure a half dozen or so ghostly figures, but Cadmus had managed close to fifty at once after investing much time in doing so.
It was something Harry was working towards and would benefit from, though not as much as the training he was receiving from Antioch, and others in the months to come, he hoped.
"Now, let us try once more, lad."
Harry nodded as he stood and brought his wand to bear.
"No, no, you will be facing off with me this time," Antioch said with a grin.
Harry readied himself as the man drew his wand and the two began circling one another.
'Do not find yourself in a position where you are always needing to defend! Seize the advantage or create one for yourself!'
That had been one of the first pieces of advice he had received, and acting upon it, Harry started the duel, sending a plethora of curses towards the man as he gave a cursory glance around himself for anything he could use.
There was some remaining debris from the dummies, but nothing of significance.
'The environment can be your greatest weapon. If it offers nothing, take from it!'
Continuing his onslaught, Harry took the opportunity to tear up some boards of the wooden floor, shielding as a rebuttal came his way before switching between casting offensive spells and transfiguring his materials.
As he'd expected, Antioch did not make this an easy process. Whenever Harry shifted his attention to the wood, it presented an opportunity for the man to fight back, and he did so relentlessly, forcing Harry to abandon his efforts more often than he was able to continue.
It was frustrating, to say the least, but it was not as though he would be given any quarter against the Death Eaters or Voldemort.
No, he would be fighting for his life, and he knew he had to become better at the tasks that required finesse as much as speed. It was not easy, though Harry knew he was improving.
"Better!" Antioch praised as Harry managed to send several arrows raining down on the man.
Of course, they were shielded, but only a few days prior, Harry knew he wouldn't even have managed to complete the transfigurations before he was felled with something.
"That's enough, lad," Antioch instructed, lowering his wand.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
They had already been at it for several hours and the exhaustion he was yet to grow accustomed to had set in.
"You are getting better every day," Antioch assured him. "There is still far to go, but you show all the promise I needed to see. Go, rest. We will resume tomorrow."
Harry nodded gratefully as he allowed the man to return to wherever to stone summoned him from. Now that he was alone, he shifted his surroundings to be the bathroom he liked to use and immediately turned the shower on.
Undressing and taking his time to cast some cleaning charms on his clothes, Harry though back to how the previous days had been since he'd retrieved the stone from what had remained of the Gaunt shack.
His time with Ignotus had been enlightening. There was little else he had learned about the Peverell magic that had been gifted to them, but Harry had been able to discuss the man's notes with him in-depth and had picked up some useful tips in the process.
Ignotus truly had been a brilliant man and having the opportunity to pick his brain had been invaluable, as had the time he'd spent with Cadmus, even if he was the unhappiest person Harry had ever met.
The stone truly had sapped him of any will to live, and he had warned Harry that he must keep a clear mind and not allow the magic of the stone to become oppressive within him.
According to Cadmus, once the magic of the dead within the relic took hold, there was no escaping its grasp.
For the most part, death was a peaceful existence in a place that was not where Harry roamed, but there were the tormented souls who had not been granted a place here in spirit form.
It was there misery mingled with the peaceful spirits that had allowed Cadmus's own maudlin disposition to prosper, resulting in him wishing for nothing more than his own demise.
Harry had ready Ignotus's account of finding his brother having taken his own life but hearing it from Cadmus himself had somehow been worse.
It was all the warning Harry had needed to understand the fragility of the mind if outside interference was allowed to influence and take hold of it, which made him only feel more foolish for how he had used the diary.
He had been fortunate in that regard.
Had his mind not already been honed by his dedication to the Mind Arts, things could have ended much differently for him for his reckless decision to engage with the book.
Currently, it was in Nicholas's possession.
The man had been very insistent that Harry not be allowed to keep it, nor the ring.
Still, Harry no longer had use for either of them.
His attempts to subvert the diary had been all but fruitless other than to gain the information the book itself wished to divulge. Harry had managed to garner the location of the Chamber of Secrets, though it would not share how to enter the fabled location.
Nevertheless, Harry was confident he would find a way inside once he'd examined it for himself. If not, then he would have to turn to Dumbledore for assistance.
Stepping into the shower, he did not focus on the chamber any further, he would get to that soon enough. His mind had shifted to the latest, harrowing vision the cloak had shown him.
Charlus Potter had always been much like Harry; stoic, thoughtful, and focused on his studies. One letter had changed that, and Harry had seen the side to his grandfather that had emerged within himself since witnessing Katie being murdered.
He had been fretting for months about his father, William, who had made his way to the continent to join the ICW resistance against Grindelwald, and Charlus had received a letter out of the blue from his mother.
William had been killed by Gellert Grindelwald.
Harry remembered experiencing the emotions of his grandfather, comparing them to his own in his deepest moments of despair, and the inevitable breakdown Charlus had suffered had not come as a surprise.
For hours after he'd received the missive, he'd simply wandered around the grounds of Hogwarts in a state of numb disbelief, until his emotions had suddenly spilled over.
It pained Harry to see the young man grieve, to collapse to the ground and sob as though he was a child.
Even Harry was unsure how long Charlus remained on the floor, crying for the father that had been taken from him. Wanting nothing more than to reach out and hold him, to let him know he knew exactly how he was feeling was difficult to endure when Harry could do no such thing.
Oddly, however, Charlus's tears had stopped rather suddenly and he had composed himself. He had chosen to not wallow in what had happened but be proactive in the things he could change.
With his time at Hogwarts shortly coming to an end, he'd already made the decision that he would follow in his father's footsteps.
As much as Harry had come to respect William Potter for his brilliance, he was not so much a fighter. He'd never faced the loss nor adversity the same way Harry had, and he was not inclined towards violence.
Charlus was different to his father in that he'd spent much of his time at Hogwarts duelling and finding himself at odds with other students, particularly those in Slytherin House.
With the loss of his father, as awful as it had been, it had instilled the mindset of a warrior within him.
Someone who intended to go to war had to be as ruthless as the enemy they faced, as willing to kill and be killed if necessary.
Harry possessed those traits in spade, and now, so did Charlus Potter.
Nonetheless, it did not stop Harry worrying what it was he would witness in the visions to come. Perhaps he would learn something, or maybe he would merely witness more pain being inflicted upon his family.
He did know that Charlus would survive the war, but that did not mean his time on the continent had been easy nor full of trials and tribulations.
Turning off the shower when he had finished washing, Harry went through the routine of drying himself off and dressing before takin his leave of the room.
As much as he wished to return to Gryffindor Tower to relax, he had received a letter from Dumbledore asking him to attend to Order meeting he had scheduled for the evening.
What the man wished to discuss was not lost on Harry.
Nicholas had informed him that he would be meeting with the headmaster today, and it was no coincidence Dumbledore wished to see harry shortly after.
In truth, discussing the Horcruxes was not something Harry wished to do. He wanted only to find any of those that remained and ensure they were destroy before they fell into the hands of any other.
Still, he knew he should probably take the alchemist's advice.
Dumbledore and Harry may share different morals, but the headmaster did have a brilliant and insightful mind that Harry would be foolish to ignore.
He just wished the man would be completely open with him.
Harry was not foolish enough to believe that Dumbledore did not have his secrets he was keeping to himself, or among those he chose to trust with them.
Nevertheless, if the man wished Harry to share what he knew, he would have to do the same in kind.
It wasn't that Harry wanted them to be at odds. On the contrary, he just wanted Dumbledore to accept that Harry would handle his enemies the way he saw fit.
With a little luck, they would find that common ground, and a more beneficial relationship could come from it.
(Break)
Albus could only look on in horror at the two seemingly innocuous items on the table before him. The diary inscribed with a name that had haunted him for many decades and the ring that young Harry had liberated, confirming the unproven suspicions he had been harbouring.
"How?"
"Because Harry is no fool," Nicholas murmured sadly. "I cannot even begin to comprehend how, Albus, but the two of you must work together. Does this not prove that beyond doubt?"
Albus nodded tiredly.
Since he had reviewed the memory of what had transpired during the third task, he had been pondering much, and found no answers he sought.
Evidently, Harry had been seeking answers to questions yet explored, and Albus felt a sense of guilt wash over him.
The prophecy…
He had been reluctant to discuss it with the boy because of what it meant, because of the responsibility and pressure it would put on him. It turned out that Harry was already shouldering that responsibility.
Albus had thought that perhaps the grief he was experiencing had consumed him, but no, it may well be a catalyst, but it appeared that Harry's mind had already been made up.
His actions suggested as much.
"I will speak with him."
"I suggest you do," Nicholas said firmly. "You are both stubborn fools, but Harry has the excuse of youth, at the very least. I will not have this conversation with you again, Albus. Tell him what he needs to know and I'm sure the favour will be returned. I will not see him killed because you wish to preserve some perceived innocence that no longer exists."
Albus nodded before conjuring a box to keep the items in.
He needed to trust Harry and have it be a mutual exchange in good faith.
"Albus, are we ready to begin?" Minerva questioned, pulling him from his thoughts.
"We are waiting for one other guest," the headmaster answered, his gaze sweeping around the table.
He had managed to recruit two more members to the Order in recent weeks, both of them making their first appearance amongst the rest this evening. It had not been his intention to admit Cedric Diggory, but the young man had insisted upon it having been present during Albus's conversation with Amos.
Both were most welcome additions.
"Who are we waiting for?" Minerva asked.
Before Albus could answer, the door to the kitchen opened and Harry stepped in.
He was immediately engulfed in a tight embrace by Sirius and Albus took a moment to really look at him.
It was hard to admit it, but Harry was no longer the wide-eyed eleven-year-old that had graced the halls of Hogwarts only a few years prior. In his own right, through the many things he had endured, he had grown to be a young man; one with a future that few could hope to endure.
It was understandable why he had become the way he was now. Albus realised that it wasn't simply grief that had shaped him, but the endurance and resilience he'd needed to possess before he knew what either of those things were.
As much as it pained the headmaster, Harry had become hardened by his experiences and the unpleasant of the world that seemed to be thrust upon him relentlessly.
"What are you doing here, Diggory?" Harry asked, spotting his former fellow competitor at the table.
"The same thing you are," Cedric answered. "Don't even think about it, Potter. Just sit down and shut up."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at the boy who merely smiled in response.
With a shake of his head, he took a seat next to Sirius and Albus offered him a nod, a gesture which was returned.
On the surface, it was a simple exchange, but Albus knew it was much more; an acknowledgement that there was much for them to discuss, and that the path ahead would be determined in the next moments.
"As ever. I'd like to thank you all for joining be," Albus began. "Of course, I would like to welcome Amos and Cedric Diggory who will be joining us. I have already brought them up to speed on our most pressing matters."
The duo were greeted with a murmuring of greetings from the other members.
"Now, I believe our first point of discussion should be the giants that are currently making their way here from the continent. I received a message from Hagrid today. Unfortunately, his efforts to negotiate with the Gurg did not yield a desirable outcome."
"What are we going to do about them, Albus?" Remus asked worriedly.
Those who had lived through the first war remembered the devastation wrought by the behemoths. It would be quite the blow for Tom to find them in his employ once more.
"I'm afraid there seems little else we can do," Albus sighed. "We cannot hope to prevent them leaving the continent and engaging them as they arrive would be terribly dangerous. I expect quite the welcoming party will be arranged to meet them. It is unlikely the French government will have little sympathy for our plight."
The members of the Order muttered amongst themselves unhappily.
"It is a sad day when our own Ministry is not equipped to handle such things," Amos sighed. "Surely there is something…"
"Maybe," Harry broke in thoughtfully. "I'm not sure how successful I can be, but I can try. I have the advantage of being a French citizen. I might not be able to rally all the help I will need but I have to try."
"What are you thinking, Harry?" Albus asked curiously.
"I'm not sure yet. I will have to speak with a few people first."
"Is that wise, Harry?" Sirius asked worriedly.
"I'm not stupid enough to try and take on that many giants at once," Harry snorted. "If we can prevent most or some of them making it here, it will make a difference, won't it?"
Albus nodded.
"I will leave it in your capable hands," he offered, extending the first olive branch between them. "It seems that you are in the best position out of us all to act without creating an international incident. Now, are there any other pressing matters?"
"Activity in Knockturn Alley is increasing," Kingsley informed the group. "There seems to be more and more people frequenting the area during the later hours than usual. There are meetings taking place. We just don't know where."
Albus hummed.
"I expect recruitment has begun," Albus replied. "Are there any other indications?"
"Only that the dementors are becoming restless. They are breeding, but there is no sign that they have been compromised, yet. I think we can all expect it to happen."
"That is most troubling," Albus sighed. "With the most notorious Death Eaters under their charge, it is only a matter of time before they find themselves free."
"Is there nothing we can do to prevent it?" Cedric asked.
"Since Sirius escaped, security has been increased. No visits are permitted and the auror guard has been increased."
"But is it enough?"
"Not even close," Kingsley warned. "If he wants them free, they will be."
Thus far, the war was not progressing well and it had yet to truly begin. Giants…Dementors…murderers… Albus could only shake his head.
Their fortune needed to change. If it didn't, the war could be so damaging that wizarding Britain may never recover.
"Kingsley, Tonks, if you could pass on a request for a meeting with Amelia Bones, it would be most appreciated."
The auror duo nodded.
"There is much to consider," Albus sighed. "We will meet again in the coming days."
The members of the Order accepted the dismissal and filed from the room, few remaining behind to exchange words with one another. When only Albus, Harry, Sirius, and Remus were left, the headmaster motioned for the latter two to give them some privacy.
Before either of them spoke, Albus removed the box from within his robes and placed it on the table.
"I want to apologise to you, Harry," he began solemnly. "These should never have been something you had to face alone. I had suspected Tom had created them, but I had no proof until Nicholas presented them to me."
"Now we know," Harry sighed. "I didn't know either until Nicholas confirmed it."
Albus nodded his understanding.
It wasn't as though even the most accomplished of wizards were aware such things existed. Albus had only learned of Horcruxes shortly after he had confronted Tom whilst he was possessing Quirinus Quirrell, and the term was not something so readily found.
"Do you think there are more?"
"I would say it is a distinct possibility," Albus replied. "I intend to investigate the matter as a priority. I have the benefit of having known Tom since he was a boy. I am confident I will come up with something, although it is impossible to tell how many he has made."
"He couldn't have made many," Harry returned thoughtfully. "The soul is not an infinite part of you that can be broken an inordinate amount of times."
"It is not," Albus agreed. "Now, I believe there is one thing I must address with you. During our first meeting here, I assured you I would be forthcoming with anything I knew. I have not done so, and for that, you once again have my apologies, Harry."
"What is it?" the young man asked with a frown.
Albus released a deep sigh.
"It pertains to why Tom targeted you in the first place. I am certain you have figured out for yourself that you were the reason he visited Godric's Hollow a little over thirteen years ago."
"I have."
Albus nodded.
"Some time before you were born, a prophecy was made regarding the Dark Lord and a child to born as the seventh month dies."
Harry mulled the words over for a moment.
"Fate," he murmured darkly.
"Excuse me?"
"It is Fate, isn't it? He heard of the prophecy. That's why he came for me."
"Very astute, Harry," Albus replied with a frown. "He heard a part of the prophecy, just enough to draw his own conclusion. You see, my meeting with the person who spoke the prophecy was overheard."
"But they didn't hear all of it."
"They did not," Albus confirmed. "However, the damage was done. Tom began seeking out any who was expecting a child around the end of July, and two prominent women in our community were identified' Your mother and a certain Alice Longbottom."
"Neville's mother?"
"Indeed. I suspect Tom's intention was to kill you and then young Neville. Of course, all did not go to plan."
"It's me, isn't it?"
Albus nodded.
Harry seemed wholly unaffected by the revelation, almost as though he had already suspected it.
"I would be happy to show you the entire prophecy at your leisure."
"Does it really change anything?" Harry chuckled.
"I do not believe so," Albus said sadly. "It is clear to me that you are both determined to fulfil it."
"It says that one of us has to kill the other, doesn't it?"
"You prove to be as sharp as ever, Harry," Albus replied. "That is ultimately what it decrees."
"Does it say I can win?"
"It says that you shall be marked as his equal, and that you will have a power he knows not."
Albus thought it best to be candid with such a matter. There was nothing left to shield Harry from, after all.
His hand trailed where the lightning scar had been left before a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I'll be ready for him," he declared. "I think may you should hold on to those," he added, nodding towards the diary and ring. "I think between us we will find any other he's created."
"I expect we will," Albus said with a smile, pleased Harry seemed to have accepted what he'd told him. "I do not believe there is anything else I need to tell you, but I must confess, I do have one pressing question I would ask, pertaining to the memory you gave to me."
Harry frowned but gestured for Albus to do so.
"You mentioned that during the ambush at the World Cup, Lucius and the other Death Eaters got you?"
Harry nodded.
"I forgot that had come up," he sighed, "but yes, they got me. I couldn't avoid so many killing curses at once."
"And yet, you lived."
"Because of a soul piece that was not mine," Harry explained. "It was a part of him. I was confused, but now I think that he was trying to make another Horcrux when he came for me. When it backfired, the piece of soul attached itself to me."
Albus nodded his agreement.
Harry had made a rather astute assumption, though it only raised further questions.
"How did you know it was a piece of him?"
"What else could it have been?" Harry returned.
Albus suspected Harry knew more than he was letting on, and the slight smirk tugging at his lips certainly supported that.
For now, however, it seemed that Harry would not share the information. In truth, it didn't matter. Albus was merely glad he had survived the encounter.
"Well, other than prophecy itself being stored within the Ministry, I do not believe there is anything else so pressing it needs to be discussed now. It appears that Tom is having the department watched closely, as am I."
"Then we should retrieve it," Harry decided, seemingly pleased by the change in topic. "I can do that without anyone knowing I was ever there."
"The cloak."
Harry nodded.
"It's been more useful than I can tell you," he said affectionately. "I'm surprised you've not asked me about what's missing from the ring."
Albus frowned as he looked at the band with its empty housing.
"I merely thought it was the part that had been cursed," Albus mused aloud. "I must say, you did well to identify and remove the withering curse and compulsion charms."
"It was close," Harry admitted. "But the stone wasn't cursed. Tom couldn't do that no matter how hard he tried."
"Whyever not?" Albus asked curiously.
Harry simply smiled in response as he stood.
"Let's just say that the only thing I need to complete the set is the wand that is in your possession," he replied before taking his leave of the room.
Albus could only stare at the door Harry closed behind himself, dumbfounded by what he'd heard.
The Hallows.
Harry had two of them already and knew Albus possessed the third!
Dozens of questions ran through the headmaster's mind, and yet, he felt no urge to ask any of them. Decades ago he had let go of any desire he had in possessing them.
The wand he had taken from Gellert to prevent it falling into the hands of any other who would use it for nefarious reasons, but it had been a loyal companion to him over the years.
How Harry had known where the stone was, Albus could only guess, but the wand?
The headmaster shook his head, quite enjoying the rare experience of being utterly perplexed by something being sprung on him so suddenly. Evidently, Harry had been much busier than he could have anticipated, and as he drew the elder wand and looked upon it, he knew he would have no regrets in seeing it returned to the Peverell line.
Chuckling to himself, he followed suit and took his leave of the room, the questions still swirling about his mind as he pondered just how Harry had come to possess to Hallows, let alone the knowledge of what they were.
(Break)
Barty felt no urge to get any closer to the island. He was content to remain where he was, watching the boat that made the trip back and forth; occasionally transporting a new prisoner, or the aurors as they switched guards every seventy-two hours.
Nonetheless, he could feel the presence of the dozens of dementors, though it was different than he remembered.
It felt like a sense of anticipation had taken hold of them, and they were breeding relentlessly because of it.
Barty despised the creatures, but the additional numbers would please his master.
Did they know he would soon be coming?
From what he had heard, they had been this way since they'd returned from their stint at Hogwarts when Sirius Black had escaped, the fog having thickened and their kind slowly increasing.
The aurors could not explain it, but that did not stop them speculating as to the cause of the behaviour of the dementors.
For what it was worth to him, Barty couldn't care less. He had obtained what he had come for and though it would be all but impossible to apparate or portkey to the island, he was certain the Dark Lord would not be hindered.
"Eight aurors," he snorted.
The dementors would not stand in their way and if the guards were not foolish, they wouldn't either. Nevertheless, they would be killed out of sheer principle.
Soon enough, those within Azkaban would be added to the ranks of Lord Voldemort and the resurgence of Barty's master would truly begin.
Barty would be right beside him where he had always envisioned he would be.
Lucius had already proven himself unable to even prevent Black from influencing the Wizengamot, but that would not matter when the Dark Lord would emerge from the shadows.
The politicians would politick, and whilst they did, all would be lost to them as Britain was once more crushed beneath the heel of his master.
(Break)
"Good morning. I would like to speak with Sebastien Delacour, please."
"Mr Delacour is not available," the lady working at the reception replied without looking up at him from the parchment she was scribbling on. "If you leave your name, I will be sure to inform him you have visited."
It was undoubtedly a line the woman had spoken many times.
If it were not such a pressing matter, Harry would have written to Sebastien, but time was indeed of the essence.
"Harry Potter."
The lady paused and looked up, her eyes widening almost comically at the sight of him.
"You have my apologies, Mr Potter. I will see if he is available immediately."
Before Harry could reply, she was gone, and he became acutely aware of several people staring at him. It was something he had never gotten used to nor enjoyed, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable under the gaze of so many strangers.
Nonetheless, he had come for a reason, and all he could do was wait until the receptionist returned.
He did return a wave to a little girl who had offered one to him timidly, but he was grateful that nose seemed so inclined to approach him.
(Break)
"Who is it?" Sebastien called as a knock sounded on the door to his office.
It was only ten am and he'd already endured a two-hour meeting with the Minister. He'd hoped to be left alone now until lunch time at least, but that evidently wasn't to be.
"Mr Delacour, Harry Potter is in the Entrance Chamber. He wishes to speak with you," Marie, the young lady who worked on the front desk informed him.
"Harry?" Sebastien asked, surprised by the unexpected visit.
"Would you like me to show him through?"
"No, I will greet him myself," Sebastien replied as he stood, wondering what Harry was doing here.
Following Marie, they arrived in the Entrance Chamber only a few moments later where Harry was waiting. As he approached the young man, Sebastien could not help but note the differences in him.
He was rather solemn, yet he stood tall, even if his eyes were devoid of any semblance of youthfulness that may have once been there.
It was unsurprising. What he had witnessed and endured over the last year had truly left its mark.
"Harry," Sebastien greeted him with a smile, offering his hand.
It was taken and the gesture returned, and a little warmth appeared in his eyes.
Perhaps there was something resembling hope within the boy still.
"Mr Delacour," he replied.
"Sebastien, Harry," the Frenchman corrected with a chuckle. "I don't suppose this is just a social visit?"
"I wish it was," Harry sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not here to cause problems for you."
Sebastien laughed heartily.
"We can talk in my office," he urged, noting the amount of people that had gathered nearby.
"I didn't realise people knew who I was here," Harry murmured as Sebastien led him away from the crowd.
"Your name was known, but after what happened in the lake, your picture was across every newspaper here, just as it was in Britain. What you did was well reported. I don't suppose my position within the government helped that."
"I'm used to it," Harry said dismissively as Sebastien showed him into the office, gesturing for him to take a seat. "So, what brings you here?"
The young man deflated.
"I expect you have heard of the giants currently making their way across France."
Sebastien's expression darkened.
It was that very thing he had met with the Minister about only this morning.
"I have."
"Well, they are heading to Britain," Harry explained. "I'm not asking for the French to intervene, I just wanted to know how much trouble I would be in if, as a concerned citizen of France, I was to do something about it?"
Sebastien frowned thoughtfully.
"It would depend on the outcome," he murmured. "What is this about, Harry? I can't see why the giants would just decide to make their way to Britain where they will not be welcome."
"Voldemort."
Sebastien felt his jaw tighten at the mention of the notorious Dark Lord.
"He's back," he said simply.
"He is," Harry confirmed. "He never truly died, but now he is really back. The British Ministry won't act until it is too late, and like it or not, the war that is coming directly affects me."
Sebastien nodded his understanding.
"He will wish to rectify the mistake he made."
"Exactly. He has already tried."
Sebastien could only shake his head.
Harry was only fifteen, and yet, he was shouldering the burden placed upon him better than most would.
"I cannot offer you any assurance of assistance, Harry," he said regretfully.
Harry waved him off.
"I wouldn't ask. I'm already working on it, but it would be much easier if the giants were not allowed to join him."
"Preventing thirty-six giants from reaching Britain will be impossible," Sebastien mused aloud, "and more so without creating an international incident. They are exceedingly resistant to magic. I would urge you to find someone who fought in the war against Grindelwald. He employed the giants for a while, but they left when their numbers were dwindling."
Harry nodded.
"I can do that," he murmured.
"Other than that, I do not know what to suggest, I'm afraid. The Minister is adamant we allow them to pass through so long as they are peaceful doing so. It would take considerable resources to intervene, and the risk of loss of life is incredibly high."
"I understand," Harry replied as he stood, already lost in his own thoughts.
"Before you go, Harry. I would like to invite you to attend a ball at my family home this coming New Year's Eve. I know it is a while away yet, but all of us would like for you to be there."
Harry nodded and offered Sebastien a smile.
"So long as I'm not killed in the meantime, I'll be there."
Sebastien offered him a sad smile.
"It won't be a large gathering of people, only those I trust implicitly and family. I expect Gabrielle will send you the invite in due course."
"How is she doing?"
"Much better," Sebastien assured him. "She is back at Beauxbatons and Fleur is working on becoming a Cursebreaker. She will be pleased to see you too."
"Then I look forward to it," Harry replied, accepting Sebastien's proffered limb.
"Do be careful, Harry," Sebastien urged. "I cannot imagine what it is you are going through, and although France may be unwilling to help, I will always do what I can."
Harry nodded gratefully before taking his leave and Sebastien wondered what he was planning.
It saddened him to see one so young burdened by such things, but he knew he would expect nothing less from Harry Potter.
He had lived with the knowledge that his parents had been murdered, and to expect him to lie in wait until what would be would be was a ridiculous notion.
That wasn't the kind of man he was growing into, and though Sebastien wished his life could be different, he could not help but think there was not a thing that would stop Harry Potter from doing what needed to be done in the coming months and years.
(Break)
Giants…Azkaban…Death Eaters…Horcruxes… prophecy…Voldemort…
The list of things Harry had to confront seemed to only grow, and there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel. He'd almost convinced himself that he could avoid a visit to Azkaban, but from what he'd gathered from the Order meeting, it was inevitable.
With Dumbledore all but convinced Tom would turn his attention to the island sooner rather than later, it had moved up on his list of priorities.
As ever, Harry had begun making plans within plans, but there was something else that he needed to focus on first.
The Giants.
Neither the British nor the French Ministry would act against them, and the Order was woefully unprepared to do so. What Harry could do, he wasn't sure, but he knew he could not sit idly by and let them come ashore without attempting something.
That was why he found himself once more in the room on the seventh floor, grasping the stone that had recently come into his possession.
Sebastien had unwittingly given him some advice, and though Harry was certainly out of his depth, there was someone who could perhaps help him.
"Charlus Potter," he murmured as he turned the stone over in his hands.
If there was one person who could help him, it would be a man who had fought during and survived the war against Grindelwald. His grandfather may not have personally fought the giants, but he may know something of use to Harry.
He looked on as Charlus Potter materialised in front of him, his posture one of confidence and his familiar gaze questioning as he looked upon Harry.
Charlus's eyes widened in something akin to recognition.
"That is never our Harry," he whispered. "I've not seen you since you were a babe in your mother's arms, lad."
"Hello, grandfather," Harry greeted him, the term of a familial relation feeling odd on his tongue.