Candidness
"It's not much, but it's been my home since I was a boy. Professor Dumbledore let me live here after…well, after I was expelled."
Morgana looked around the cosy hut.
Grimmauld Place had been a rather lavish dwelling, but Hagrid's home was more to her liking.
It was no bigger than it needed to be, and everything was within reach of the man wherever he stood within the hut.
"I like it," she declared with a sincere smile. "Harry told me how fond he is of this place, and of you. He says that you are one of the few people he met who never wanted anything from him."
Hagrid beamed from within his beard.
"He's a good boy is Harry. I knew he was something special the minute I held him in my arms the night I took him from that house. You know, he never made a peep the whole time he was with me. It's just a shame his family didn't take care of him. He's ruddy uncle pointed a gun at me the night I found him again."
"A gun?" Morgana asked confusedly.
"A muggle weapon," Hagrid sighed. "No, it broke my heart when he didn't come back out of the lake. I thought the worst, and we even held a service for him. We put his grave next to his mum and dead back where he was born."
"In Godric's Hollow."
"You know it?"
"We spend some of our time living there, and the rest in the forest."
"You live in the forest?" Hagrid asked excitedly. "See, if I wasn't the groundskeeper, I might like that."
Morgana laughed.
She liked Hagrid.
There was something so decidedly innocent and pure about the man.
Despite his enormous size, and undeniable ability to throttle someone with little effort, there was a kindness about him that most lacked.
"Is he really happy?"
"He is," Morgana assured him. "People still have expectations of him, but that's just a part of being Harry. He's a wonderful man, and sometimes foolishly courageous, but it makes him who he is."
"He's just like both of his parents," Hagrid said amusedly. "I can't say I knew them that well, but they were loved by those that did. James Potter was a troublemaker, and Lily was righteous to fault. I saw them both around the castle, but never thought they'd end up married with little Harry. Mind, he's not so little anymore. You said he's been at war."
Morgana nodded.
"Where we live is plagued by it. So many men wish to be king of all Britain, but it seems to finally be on the cusp of being resolved. Even so, it will be the goblins who will rise up next, so, Harry will likely find himself caught up in another."
"Horrible creatures," Hagrid grumbled. "You can't trust a goblin as far as you can throw one."
"No, you can't," Morgana agreed, stroking Hedwig's feathers.
"She's been miserable without him," Hagrid sighed. "I've done my best, but she's not been herself. You know, it was me that got her for Harry as a birthday present."
Morgana offered the man a smile.
"He has always spoken highly of you. He really does think the world of you, Hagrid."
"And now he has you," the man said affectionately. "I couldn't be more pleased that he found happiness. After everything he's been through, he deserves it."
"He does," Morgana murmured, feeding Hedwig another treat. "He really does."
(Break)
It was rather odd to find himself in Dumbledore's office.
The Founders each had their own private quarters, but nothing like this.
Godric, Helga, Salazar, and Rowena had believed in being accessible to all students and though the location of the headmaster's office was common knowledge, Albus Dumbledore had been something of a mysterious figure within the castle.
He did not teach, and he was only seen at mealtimes.
To most, the man had been unreachable, though Harry suspected much the same could be said of his predecessors.
Dumbledore released a deep breath as he took a seat behind his desk.
Even to Harry, the man had been a figment of legend; a brilliant wizard that so few would reach the lofty heights of, but now, he looked every bit the tired old man he appeared to be.
Human.
Much like everyone else, Albus Dumbledore was indeed merely a man, undoubtedly brilliant, and rather wise, but no less infallible than any other.
Harry had once seen him as a hero, as someone he could only hope to emulate in his own endeavours, but those days were long behind him.
He respected Dumbledore, but he did not wish to be him.
"I had truly begun to believe that I would never be given the opportunity to speak with you in such a way, Harry. When you disappeared from within the lake, no effort was spared to find you, and despite them proving to be fruitless, I knew that you were out there somewhere, even if I could not fathom the truth you have presented to me, as farfetched as it may seem."
"But you know I am telling the truth."
"Indeed," Albus agreed. "You have become exceedingly proficient in the Mind Arts, a commendable endeavour, and one not so easily mastered."
"Salazar taught me."
Albus frowned at the mention of the man.
"You have my apologies, Harry," he sighed. "The name Salazar Slytherin is one that has not aged well, especially given what his descendants became in later years. It is not only Tom Riddle who soured the reputation, but we will come to that soon enough. The Gaunts are an important part of Tom's journey, and one we will explore together. For now, I merely wish to place ourselves on common ground. We have the same goal when it comes to the Dark Lord. Tell me, did you listen to the prophecy?"
"Not yet," Harry admitted. "I will do so, but for now, I'm just adjusting to the changes I am experiencing here."
Albus nodded his understanding.
"I urge you to do so sooner rather than later, but it is, of course, your choice when you decide to do so. What can you tell me of what happened in the lake before you were taken?"
"Just that I was approached by a lady. At first, I thought she was one of the merepeople, but she took me to a cave and explained that I was needed elsewhere, that Fate had plans for me beyond this place. When I woke up, I was in the castle, but it wasn't as you know it. The Founders were there, and that was when I learned I had been taken somewhere else entirely."
"A lady in the lake?" Albus asked curiously. "As in the legend of King Arthur."
Harry fought the urge to grin as he leaned forward in his own chair.
"That's exactly what it is," he revealed. "Arthur is a friend of mine."
Albus was undeniably taken aback by the revelation.
"So, you must know of Merlin."
Harry frowned at the mention of the man.
"I know him well enough," he murmured. "All I will say is that History is not always so truthful. It was wrong about Salazar, and it is wrong about Myrddin."
Albus quirked an eyebrow at Harry before he hummed.
"Were you familiar with Arthur's tale as a boy, Harry?"
"No. I'd heard of Arthur, and Myrddin, and even mentions of Morgana as an evil, dark witch."
"Would you truly describe your wife as such?"
"Not evil, no," Harry chuckled, "but I expect she makes much of what the Blacks are famous for seem rather tame. She is not like Tom. She despises everything he is."
Albus nodded.
"You know her better than any, but are you aware of her part in Arthur's downfall?"
"His downfall?"
Albus offered Harry something of a sad smile.
"Arthur's tale is one of triumph, of treachery, and tragedy," he explained. "Arthur united the country under a single banner, but there were those not content with his rule. To summarise, Arthur was killed by his own son during the battle of Camlann by Mordred, a son he sired with Morgana."
"Well, that won't happen this time," Harry said thoughtfully, "but Arthur does have a son he does not know of with a former princess. He currently resides in Godric's Hollow with his mother."
"Godric's Hollow?" Albus asked interestedly. "You have ventured there?"
"It's where I was born and where Tom…well, you know."
Albus nodded.
"Have you met anyone else of interest there?"
"You are referring to the Peverells."
Albus's eyes widened briefly at the mention of the name.
"You are aware of them."
"And their story," Harry confirmed. "Ignotus and his son are close friends of mine. I would go as far to say that I consider them family."
Albus's beard twitched in amusement.
"So, you know the origins of your cloak."
"I do, and how it came into Ignotus's possession. It was a gift, or a curse if you like, from Death."
"The tale is true?"
"That depends on what tale you are aware of."
Albus frowned before summoning a rather worn book from a nearby shelf and slid it over to Harry.
"The tale of the three brothers," he instructed.
Flicking through the pages, Harry found the story, and read the short iteration, chuckling when he was done only a few moments later.
"I can assure you, Professor, that the real story is much more troubling," he explained. "They did not trick Death as such, but they managed to summon it using magic that should not be delved into. It cost Ignotus the lives of his brothers and has left him living with Death itself waiting for an opportunity to claim him. The gifts were and are significant, but only in the hands of a Peverell. The magic of Death is required for them to work as intended, but you already know that. You had my cloak for long enough to reach that conclusion."
"Indeed," Albus replied, "and my interest in the Hallows waned many years ago, even before I borrowed the cloak from your father."
Harry tilted his head curiously.
"You found another of them."
"I did."
"And it did not work for you as you expected."
"It worked well enough, but not how it has been written and spoken of over the centuries."
"The wand."
Albus leaned back in his chair.
"Why not the stone?"
"Because the stone never worked as Cadmus Peverell intended, and yet, the wand worked perfectly for Antioch until his throat was slit and it was stolen."
"Your ability in deduction is exemplary, Harry," Albus praised. "I took the wand from Grindelwald, who stole it from Gregorovitch. It was not my intention to keep it, but I learned something troubling only mere years later. As far as I am aware, Antioch Peverell never fathered any children, but both Ignotus and Cadmus did. You are indeed a direct descendant of the former, and…"
"Bloody Riddle," Harry grumbled.
"Indeed," Albus sighed. "Tom is a descendant of Cadmus. It seems that somewhere along the line, one of Cadmus's descendants married into the Slytherin line."
"So, Tom is something of a cousin."
"As our most purebloods in magical Britain."
Harry could only shake his head.
"Well, it doesn't change anything, other than I now have to make sure he doesn't find that wand, if he is even aware of it."
"For now, I expect he is not, but it is a risk I would rather not take. That is why I have kept it with me. There were times over the years that I felt I should perhaps hide it, even destroy it, but I could not bring myself to do so."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"The wand could be a problem, but there is a more pressing one when it comes to Tom. Are you aware he has delved into creating Horcruxes?"
Dumbledore did not even need to answer for Harry to know the man had indeed known of it, but he did so anyway.
"The diary," he said tiredly. "When you described it to me, I looked into what magic Tom could possibly have used to create such a sentient thing. I reached the conclusion during your third year of Hogwarts and have been looking into the matter further. It is troubling, Harry, to say the least. There are so few who knew him before his years as Lord Voldemort that are willing to discuss him. Many are in hiding, and those that are not, are dead, I'm afraid. However, I have had some success, but more failures. I would share the memories with you I have obtained, in due course. For now, I expect you have some adjusting to do, but I would have us work together moving forward."
Harry nodded his agreement.
"It is the only way this will work," he replied, "but you must know that I meant what I said. What I saw when I arrived was an absolute shambles. If the members of your group are not willing to take a life, especially in those circumstances, they have no business fighting in a war."
Albus deflated.
"For men like yourself, Harry, taking a life has likely become second nature, but for the average man or woman, it is not something easily done, and it rests heavily on their conscience."
"I never had time to allow it to rest heavily on mine," Harry murmured. "Quirrell was the first person I killed, albeit unwillingly, but he is just a distant memory now. I have taken more lives than I can count because I had to. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here now. If they cannot fight, truly fight, then they should be nowhere near the battlefield. Make no mistake, Professor, I will kill Tom and anyone else that gets in my way."
Dumbledore nodded, and as Harry stood, the old man watched him closely as he made his way towards the door to the office.
For now, there was nothing else to discuss, but the headmaster seemed to have other ideas.
"Harry, I would like for you to return to Hogwarts in September. Not as a student, of course, but to teach."
"To teach?"
Albus nodded.
"I have been attempting to lure a former colleague out of retirement to teach Potions so that Severus can teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, but my efforts have been for nothing. Of course, I have further motivation for wishing to have Horace Slughorn closer, but he is not receptive. He is in hiding, and I expect it is because he knows something of great importance."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at the headmaster.
"Let us not pretend that you haven't been able to find him."
"Oh, I have found him numerous times, but Horace is a stubborn man. I'm afraid my company holds no allure to him. You see, Horace likes to surround himself with people of note. During his time here, he collected them."
Harry frowned.
"He sounds a little like Lockhart."
"Indeed, but not so needy of such recognition. No, Horace would often boast of those he knew on such personal terms but was never one for the adulation himself."
"You think I can convince him to give up what information he has. Does this pertain to Tom?"
"It does."
"Then maybe we should find him. I am a person of note."
"I expect you would be quite the feather in his cap, Harry," Albus agreed. "I will make some enquiries. Do think about my offer. It would be a great help to Hogwarts to have you here."
"But you do not know if I would be a good professor."
Albus chuckled.
"Harry, I have been at Hogwarts for several decades and have hired countless men and women during that time. I have developed something of a knack of knowing who will be a good fit."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"I will think about it," he assured the man.
"That is all I ask."
(Break)
She made no effort to conceal the scars that had disfigured her once beautiful face, and though Severus was accustomed to the grotesque, Bellatrix's burns were enough to elicit a feeling of unpleasantness within him.
Still, he wasn't here at her invitation, and his gaze shifted to the woman's younger sister, the only blonde Black he'd ever met.
"It would be foolish to say anything that you should not," he advised.
Narcissa nodded and continued fiddling with her wedding ring.
"I know, but I cannot do nothing, Severus. Draco, he is not…"
"Cissy, be quiet," Bellatrix warned. "He has been chosen for the highest of honours."
"He has been chosen to punish Lucius, nothing more!"
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, though she grimaced in discomfort as she did so.
"I cannot fathom what it is you would have me do," Severus murmured. "If the Dark Lord has made a decision, he will not change his mind."
"But he trusts you, Severus," Narcissa pleaded. "If you were to…"
Severus held up a hand and shook his head.
"I cannot help Draco in what he has been tasked with, but I will watch over him. Dumbledore would see anything he does as foolish loyalty to Lucius, and the error of a young, misguided man. Make no mistake, the headmaster will see through any and all of Draco's efforts, but he himself is foolishly forgiving. Harry Potter, however, is not."
Bellatrix hissed at the mention of the man.
"Potter," Narcissa whispered. "What happened to him?"
"I am uncertain, but Dumbledore divulged that he was taken from the lake during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. All I know is that when Potter returned through the veil, he did so much older, and considerably more dangerous than when he left. You saw that for yourself, Bellatrix."
"Potter will die at the hands of the Dark Lord."
"Indeed," Severus agreed, "but until then, he should be treated with the utmost caution. Now, I am to meet with the Dark Lord to discuss what little I have learned. I expect he will be most displeased."
He watched as Bellatrix and a dejected Narcissa left his home away from the castle before peering into the empty fireplace.
Severus truly knew little of what had happened to Potter over the years he'd been missing but having seen some of the memories of those who'd been there, the changes within the boy were undeniable, so much so, that he might just beat the odds when it came to fulfilling the prophecy.
(Break)
"Now this, other than the cloak, is my most prized possession," Harry said fondly.
"An old piece of parchment?" Morgana asked confusedly.
Harry grinned as he shook his head. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
He tapped the map with his wand, and watched as the in began spreading across the parchment.
"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," Morgana read aloud.
"My father and his friends, all except Wormtail. I'll murder that bastard when I catch up with him. My father was Prongs because his Animagus form was a stag. Sirius was Padfoot because he's a dog, and Remus is Moony…"
"Because he is a werewolf," Morgana finished. "Wait, this is a map of the castle, and it shows all of the people within it."
Harry nodded.
"Not quite the entire castle though," he said with a frown. "I can think of several rooms that my father never found. I suppose I'll have to find a way of adding to this."
"Do you think you can?"
"I'll figure it out."
"So, does that mean you will accept Dumbledore's offer?"
Harry released a deep breath.
"I don't know. What do you think?"
"I don't think there is anyone who can teach those kids more about defensive magic or fighting than you. You said yourself your own instructors were lacking. They deserve someone like you."
"You think I should do it."
"I do," Morgana answered. "It will be the perfect practice for you for when you eventually take over the castle back home. If you're right about Riddle, he's not just going to stand in front of you to fight. He's going to bide his time and do all he can to disrupt the country. You can't just wait around for him, and being at the castle will mean you are in the best place to hear of anything first. It's the best place for you, Harry."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"Maybe you're right," he said tentatively.
"I am your wife, Harry. I am always right."
Harry chuckled amusedly.
"I will think about it," he promised, "but for now, I don't want to think anything except from getting some rest, and what we are going to do tomorrow."
"What are we going to do tomorrow?" Morgana asked nervously.
Harry grinned once more as he reached into his trunk and removed one last item.
"We are going to gather some books, and then I'm going to take you flying."
Morgana rolled her eyes at him and shook her head.
"Fine, but only if you get me more ice cream."
"Agreed," Harry replied.
(Break)
"That is most concerning," Albus murmured as he stared into the swirling surface of the pensieve. "Most concerning indeed."
"You cannot think he will succeed?"
Albus shook his head.
"No, but it is a problem, Severus," the headmaster sighed. "It is not only us that will likely be watching him. Only this evening, I offered Harry the Defence Against the Dark Arts post. If he catches wind of this…"
"He will kill Draco."
"Indeed," Albus said gravely. "You do not seem surprised?"
"I have seen memories of what Potter did, and the aftermath in the atrium of the Ministry. I am surprised that he has become as proficient and deadly as he has, but not that you would offer him the post. From what I saw, he will be quite suited. Not that I will express such thoughts to him."
"Even now, you hold a grudge against him?"
"I do not hold a grudge against Potter," Severus denied, "but I will not deny that his presence has escalated things. The Dark Lord will once more become obsessive in his pursuit to kill him, but now, it is not a defenceless child he faces. He will not be so reckless, and I expect his tenacity will only increase now that he is out in the open, in a manner of speaking."
"And we will become just as vigilant, Severus. At the very least, there will be those who think twice about joining the Dark Lord, and others that might just find hope in Harry's return. I for one foresee dark days ahead, but finally, Severus, there is indeed light ahead of us. Harry will defeat the Dark Lord, and all of us will be free of him."
Severus nodded uncertainly.
"And if he fails?"
"Then that darkness will envelop us, old friend, in a way I fear will not be so easily removed."
Severus scowled at the very though as he stood.
"I would urge you to speak with Potter about Draco. Perhaps we can prevent the boy from being killed in his foolish endeavour."
Albus hummed.
"Perhaps you are right," he conceded. "Draco does not have the makings to follow in his father's footsteps. How is Lucius?"
"Without his wand hand and out of favour. I would say he is as popular as a vat of Stinksap."
"A wounded and corner animal is at its most dangerous. I would see that he is watched closely. There is no telling what he might do."
Severus nodded before taking his leave of the office, and Albus once more turned his attention to the pensieve, wondering what the uncertain future would hold for Britain and the magical world at large with all that had happened.
(Break)
"Sirius, I do not think Albus will approve of you leaving the house," Molly huffed irritably.
Sirius shrugged as he continued to ready himself.
"He's not been to visit my parent's grave, and nor have I," Harry explained. "He will be fine, Mrs Weasley. The Ministry has more important things to focus on right now. Besides, I wouldn't let anyone take him."
Mrs Weasley frowned, but didn't press the matter, and as Sirius gave him a nod, the two of them apparated away from Grimmauld Place.
Only a moment later, they arrived in the familiar surroundings of Godric's Hollow, and though the buildings had changed, and even the roads had become paved, there was no mistaking this place for the village he'd grown so fond of over the years.
Even now, after a millennium, that Peverell magic could still be felt in the air, and likely always would.
Harry truly did feel a sense of peace here, and as he and Sirius walked towards the church only a short distance away, neither said a word until they reached the gate.
"I expect they would be furious with me," Sirius murmured. "My one regret in life is…"
"They would be," Harry agreed, "but I bet they would forgive you. Everything that has happened, the good and the bad, has led us to where we are now. Things haven't always been good, but even the slightest of changes could've set me on a very different path."
Sirius nodded and the two of them walked through the churchyard.
"Albus didn't even let me come when they held your service," Sirius sighed. "He never believed you to be dead, and nor did I."
Harry couldn't deny that it was odd to look upon his own memorial that had been placed in front f the graves of his parents, and it truly hit home what those who cared for him must've felt when he'd not returned from the lake.
The only logical explanation was that he had indeed died, and yet, Sirius and Dumbledore had refused to believe it.
Maybe the latter because of his own guilt, but he'd continued to hope that Harry would somehow come back to them.
Sirius released a deep breath and wiped a tear away as it rolled down his cheek.
"For the better part of twelve years, I spent each day apologising to them for what I did, but I've never apologised to you, Harry. I am sorry for not being there for you."
"I know," Harry assured him. "Like I said, none of that matters. We've all made mistakes, but we are here now."
Sirius nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
The two of them lost themselves in a comfortable silence.
Harry knew he needed to come here.
He'd been denied the opportunity to do so as a child, but he wasn't sure now what he was supposed to feel.
He'd never known James and Lily Potter beyond the brief, unpleasant dreams and memories that had plagued him, but they had been his parents.
Harry had no doubt that they had both loved him deeply, he just wished he could remember it.
Still, it was one of the many things that had shaped his life and led him to where he was now, and despite the many setbacks, he was happy with how it had all turned out.
He was married, and soon enough, he would be free of all that continued to follow him.
Riddle would die, as would Myrddin, and then, Harry only wished to enjoy what he and Morgana had built together, and any other blessing that might come their way.
For that to happen, however, he knew he needed to be just that resilient a little longer and continue fighting the way he had these past years.
He could do that.
For all those that deserved justice, and for his own freedom, he could do that.
(Break)
'Members of the Wizengamot will convene on Friday to begin the proc3ss of determining who will be the next Minister for Magic after Cornelius Fudge sensationally announced his intent to resign the post. This comes after it was revealed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was seen in the Ministry of Magic during what was described as a violent confrontation with a man claiming to be the missing Harry Potter. That very same man was seen in Diagon Alley only yesterday, enjoying an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's. In other news…'
Lucius turned the wireless off though it took several attempts to do so.
He was not used to wielding a wand with his left hand, and this was one that had belonged to an ancestor of his.
His own had been left behind at the Ministry long with his hand, and he doubted he would see it again.
The best he could hope for was a painless death.
If he was apprehended, he would spend the rest of his life in prison, and if Potter caught up with him, it would be a considerably worse fate than that.
He took another sip of his whiskey, grimacing at the burn in his throat.
He would not deny that he was feeling sorry for himself, and he knew he needed to begin pondering a way to salvage something from the unfavourable position he found himself in, but for now, he merely wished to mope.
Draco had been drawn into the Dark Lord's affairs, and Narcissa was refusing to speak to him.
Lucius was all but alone in the world; out of favour with the man he'd pledged himself to and shunned by his own wife.
Perhaps a quick death would not be so bad after all.
He shook his head at the thought.
No, he would not simply lie down and die, and though he did not know what he could do to remedy his position, it had never been in his nature to quit.
There had to be something he could do, and as he continued to drink away the misery that filled him, he thought long and hard about what his next move would be.
(Break)
Harry was positively beaming as he led Morgana towards the field not far from where they'd built their little home in Godric's Hollow, and though it was odd for it not to be by the river now, she was more focused on the broom her husband held under his arm.
"You fly on brooms," she murmured, shaking her head.
"You have little faith," Harry chided lightly, "or maybe I am feeling too confident. The last time I rode this, I was trying not to be burnt by a dragon."
Morgana could only shake her head as he smiled fondly at the memory.
"Have you ever considered there might just be something wrong with you, Harry Potter?" she asked. "You have a way of finding trouble, but there is an undeniable part of you that likes it."
"I married you, didn't I?"
Morgana narrowed her eyes at the man, but before she could offer a response, he'd mounted the broom as though it were a horse and shot into the air.
She could only look on in a mixture of awe and fear as he tore through the air, spinning and turning as he unleashed yells of utter joy.
Morgana didn't know what he had to feel so happy about.
If he made just one mistake, he'd damned well kill himself by falling from such a height, something she quickly realised was a much safer place to be as he dived vertically towards the ground.
She truly thought he was going to crash, but at the very last moment, he righted the broom and shot past her, grinning like a foolish lunatic.
For several minutes, he continued his aerial display, and though Morgana realised that Harry was simply just brilliant at flying, her heart continued to pound in her chest.
Still, she could not bring herself to chide him for frightening her in such a way.
The smile he wore as he landed made him appear to be a carefree child, and she would not spoil that for him.
What was clear was that Harry adored flying and seeing him so pleased warmed her heart.
"You know, I always wondered if you'd lost your mind," she sighed.
"It's perfectly safe."
Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Fine, it can be dangerous, but the only time I ever fell off was when a Dementor tried to attack me. Even when I broke my arm playing Quidditch, I held on."
Morgana shook her head once more.
"I think you might just have a death wish, Harry," she snorted.
"No, I just love flying. That's something I got from my father. I expect my mother would probably look at me the same way you are now if she saw me doing this."
"I expect she would," Morgana agreed.
"Would you like to try?"
"No, not on that thing. Don't you have anything slower?"
"No, but when we get home, I'm going to make some brooms. I think it is something people will enjoy."
"Only madmen like you, Harry," Morgana chuckled. "Wait, isn't that Dumbledore?"
Harry frowned as the headmaster approached them from a distance, and the old man offered him a smile as he spotted the broom in his hand.
"You have my apologies for interrupting you, Harry, but I received a message from Rufus Scrimgeour. He would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience."
"Tomorrow morning," Harry replied. "That will be my earliest convenience. Now, I am spending some time with my wife."
Albus's beard twitched in amusement as he nodded.
"I will pass on the message," he replied, "and I agree with the delay. It never is good to keep someone waiting too long, but equally bad to be at their beck and call."
Before Harry could respond, Dumbledore vanished, leaving the two of them alone once more.
"Will you at least let me take you on the back. I promise I will fly slowly."
"You promise?"
Harry nodded and Morgana awkwardly climbed on the back of the broom, screaming and cursing her husband as he took off into the sky once more.
(Break)
He drummed his fingers along the armchair he was occupying, and a deep frown marred his features.
Fudge had been the perfect pacifist Minister of Magic and had been at the behest of Lucius. The Dark Lord knew it was unlikely that Yaxley could hope to be elected his successor, so it meant that only a foolishly courageous replacement would be found.
Scrimgeour.
By all accounts, he was an excellent wizard in his own right, but whether he had the gumption and courage to do what he would need to remained to be seen.
Even so, it did not matter who was chosen.
When Potter was inevitably dead, the Ministry of Magic would fall to the Dark Lord, and the rest of magical Britain would fall into line.
For now, they had only two beacons of hope, and one of them would soon be dead, if Draco proved to be as cunning as his father.
Potter was another matter entirely, but it was not his foe the Dark Lord was pondering.
"What are we to do, my lord?" Bellatrix asked.
"Assemble my followers," Lord Voldemort instructed. "We continue as we were, only less cautiously. We will remind them all why it was they feared us not so long ago."
The woman smiled and all but skipped from the room, but the Dark Lord was not in such high spirits.
Still, that would change.
With no reason to hide any longer, he could unleash all he had upon his enemies until each of them fell one by one.