As Time Goes By
'I am sorry, Harry,' Dumbledore wheezed as he eyed the discarded ring. 'I do not know what came over me.'
'A compulsion curse. A very powerful one. Fortunately for you, I managed to intervene before you touched it. You would be dead if I hadn't.'
Albus nodded.
'It wasn't just the curse, was it? You want that ring, so much so that you ignored the danger. You're a Master in Occlumency, so do not lie to me.'
The man continued to stare at the ring and deflated.
'The stone,' he whispered. 'It contains the Resurrection Stone.'
Harry frowned before levitating the ring back into the box to ensure that Dumbledore would not get the foolish idea of trying to have it in his grasp again.
'No good will come of it,' he murmured. 'Ignotus watched what it did to his brother. It drove him mad until he killed himself. It does not bring back the dead as you hope it will.'
Albus nodded sadly.
'I should've known better.'
'Who is it you wish to see?'
The question made the headmaster appear more vulnerable than Harry had ever seen him, and he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat.
'My sister, Ariana. She died when she was young, and…'
He shook his head, evidently unable to bring himself to speak of her further.
'That is why you and Aberforth had a falling out.'
Although the younger sibling had saved Albus's life, the rift between the two of them had barely mended. Aberforth had joined the Order, but he and Albus barely exchanged words beyond a polite greeting.
'It is, and I hold myself responsible for what happened to her. I should've been better for her, less selfish, then perhaps all would've been well enough. Aberforth was right about everything. I deluded myself into believing I had been put here for the greater good, but it only cost me what remained of my family.'
It was odd to see Dumbledore speaking with such emotion and opening himself up to the things that were still undeniably so raw.
Whatever it was that happened was not Harry's business, and he would not press the man for information. It was not his place to do so, after all.
'I think we should leave this one here, for now," he sighed. 'If there is any he will go to the trouble of checking on, it's this one. It is the easiest to access, if not the most dangerous.'
'The most dangerous?'
'It would be the first or second he created after murdering his muggle family. He did not obtain the cup or locket until much later, so it is either this or the diary that was first.'
Albus nodded his understanding.
'I believe you are right."
'And we may have to use this if we are unable to find the other two. If he knows this has been taken, he will hurry to check on the others, and Bellatrix will have to come out of hiding to gather the other.'
'Do you truly believe it is being held in Gringotts?'
Harry nodded.
'It is the only place that makes any sense. She could not have hidden in any of the Black properties, and the Lestrange properties have been searched several times, even by me. It's not there. No, she would've placed it somewhere only she could get to it, and Gringotts is only second to Hogwarts in terms of security.'
'I'm afraid I am inclined to agree with you, Harry, but I hope you are wrong. It would be foolish to attempt to retrieve from the goblins.'
'It would,' Harry agreed. 'I would rather Bellatrix retrieves it herself so that we can take it from her rather than the goblins.'
'If it is indeed there.'
'If it is there,' Harry concurred.
"Professor, will this really come up on our NEWTs?" Hannah Abbott asked, pulling Harry from his reverie.
"It is possible," he answered as he peered at the question on her practice exam. "It is important to understand the capabilities and limitations of basic shields. You have seen and experienced them for yourselves."
One of the first things he'd done upon beginning teaching was to re-introduce most of the students to the art of duelling, and Harry could not have fathomed just how disappointed he was to be at the performances on display.
Perhaps it was because by the time he was their age he'd been tutored by both Godric and Salazar so rigorously that his expectations had been set high.
It was indeed partly the case, but even with the simplest of things, very few showed any real promise.
Malfoy had of course boasted that he'd been privately tutored, and he did possess a little skill, though Harry could not help but think that Lucius had wasted quite the sum for little to show for it.
Harry's gaze shifted briefly to the blond before he made his way back towards his desk.
Over the course of the past months since the school year had begun, he'd become increasingly paler, thinner, and looked rather quite ill.
His efforts to kill Dumbledore had led to nothing, only his own deterioration, something Harry took much credit for.
At every turn, he had scuppered the young man's efforts, leaving Draco frustrated, and only more fearful.
Harry did not doubt that Riddle would kill the boy were he to fail, but there was little sympathy to be found for Draco Malfoy.
He'd accepted the Dark Lord's mark and had done so willingly.
Harry had gleaned as much when he'd caught Draco wandering the castle and had opted to stun the boy before questioning him under Veritaserum as to what his intentions were.
What quickly became clear was that Draco was indeed a willing albeit fearful participant in Voldemort's plans, and though it would've been much simpler to kill the damned fool, Albus had convinced him not to.
Why the headmaster believed there was redemption in Malfoy's future, Harry didn't know, and in truth, he was beyond caring about what was only a minor inconvenience to him.
Draco had been tutored in Occlumency, though not enough to prevent Harry from wiping his memory of any knowledge of that particular incident, so, his efforts were to continue, as did Riddle's.
The Dark Lord had remained silent throughout the intervening months whilst the Ministry continued focusing on the Muggleborn Registration Act.
For the most part, it had been a success for the man, but there were those that had refused to arrive at the Ministry to register, opting to either flee Britain, or go on the run.
Some had inevitably been found and had not been heard from since, but there were those that continued to evade Riddle, who would never find them, thanks to Morgana.
When she was not watching out for Bellatrix in Knockturn Alley, she had taken it upon herself to look for those highlighted on the many 'Wanted' posters that were hung around Diagon Alley, and even printed in The Daily Prophet, which had become nothing but a gossip rag to promote Riddle's propaganda.
Morgana had found many of the weary runners and had set up quite the little campsite within the Forbidden Forest, where they would not be disturbed.
Even the Centaurs were helping to gather food for the people there, grateful for what his wife had done for them when the werewolves had attacked.
It was far from being an ideal situation, but they were safe from the Dark Lord's clutches, and their numbers continued to grow almost daily.
Still, such small victories were nothing compared to the misery that was being inflicted upon the country.
With Riddle and his followers all but impossible to locate, the war had frustratingly come to all but a standstill where it mattered.
Almost eight months had gone by since the announcement of the act, and Harry felt next to nothing had been achieved.
Try as he had, he'd been unable to find any of Tom's inner-circle, and even the Snatchers did not leave the safety of wherever they were holed-up up unless they received a tip off of where they might find one of their targets.
Much to Harry's chagrin, people were willing to comply, and even assist them in their search, unable to deny themselves the promise of a good payment of gold.
As such, many more than Morgana had been able to help found themselves captive, and some undoubtedly dead.
Such fallout could be seen even with Hogwarts.
Many students had not returned in September, some withdrawing in writing before the start of term, and others just not boarding the train at King's Cross.
A few had been found on the run by Morgana, but were in the forest with their families, fearful that somehow they would be taken from the school itself.
Harry peered around the classroom and noted the absences of those he had once learned with during his time here.
Justin Finch-Fletchley was amongst the absentees, as was Megan Jones and Daphne Greengrass.
What had happened to them, Harry didn't know, but having either been on the run or in hiding so long, they were either faring well enough or had been captured.
Dark days had come upon them indeed, and with Riddle once more lurking in the shadows, seemingly content with occupying himself pulling the strings from afar, it was difficult to see any light at the end of the tunnel.
There was still at least one other Horcrux that continued to elude Harry, and try as he might, he could not find either Riddle or any of his followers.
Soon enough, he knew he would need to take drastic action, though he was reluctant to do so until he was certain the Dark Lord could not return again in the future.
Eight months.
Already it had been eight long months, and Harry could not help but ponder just how much home may have already changed since he and Morgana had left to fix the lingering problems of his past.
"That will be all for today," he declared, and watched as the silent class packed away their things and left quickly, sticking closely to those in their own houses.
Hogwarts had intended to be a place of safety away from the misery of the outside world, but a sullen mood had descended upon the castle, and outside of it was much worse.
Diagon Alley was mostly empty, and all looked upon one another with outright suspicion.
As much as Harry had done to combat Riddle, there was no denying that the game they were currently playing was working in the Dark lord's favour.
He flared his nostrils in irritation as he looked across the grounds.
Although spring was upon them, it was another dreary day at Hogwarts, another omen Harry could do without.
(Break)
'What's all this?' Morgana asked curiously, watching as Kreacher levitated what appeared to be a string of lights onto a large tree that had been placed in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
The little elf appeared to be confused by the question but offered her a smile.
'A Christmas tree, Miss,' he answered. 'For Christmas.'
Since the locket had no longer been a burden to him, Kreacher's mood had improved significantly, and he'd even stopped shooting filthy glances towards Sirius.
The elf simply went about his duties without complaint, but the man still treated him with suspicion at best.
Christmas.
She'd heard of it during her childhood whilst wandering the muggle world but had never paid it much heed.
It was not something the magical community partook in, though that seemed to have changed during the intervening centuries.
'What are we supposed to do with Christmas?' she asked curiously.
'We spend time with those we care about,' Kreacher explained, 'and you humans exchange gifts.'
'What kind of gifts?'
Kreacher shrugged as he continued with his work.
'Kreacher has seen books being given, toys, and lots of other things, Miss.'
Morgana frowned.
It was an odd thing for her.
Muggles celebrated Christmas as part of their Christian religion, but she did not see how it related to magicals, but it did, as demonstrated by Sirius who entered the kitchen, sporting a red hat and whistling a merry tune.
'What is that on your head?' Morgana snorted amusedly.
He seemed almost offended by the question.
'It's a Father Christmas hat.'
'Father Christmas'? Morgana asked confusedly.
'Fat man, red suit, flies a sleigh to every house on Christmas Eve to deliver presents to children. You don't know who Father Christmas is?'
Morgana wasn't sure if this was one of the man's elaborate pranks, like the time he'd left Hagrid hairless after slipping something Fred and George had given him into the man's drink.
Fortunately, Hagrid had taken it in good humour, despite how ridiculous he'd looked.
'Sirius, I have no idea what you are talking about,' Morgana sighed.
She'd never met a grown man who could seemingly turn into a child once more, and what had followed had been an in-depth explanation of what Christmas was, the traditions surrounding it, and Morgana having to calm her husband's godfather when he became too excitable to understand.
It was endearing in a way.
Having suffered the misery of the Dementors for more than a decade, it was surprising such a thing could still bring him joy, even if Morgana had walked away from the conversation only a little wiser to what Christmas was.
She had decided to simply experience it for herself, and with a lot of help from Kreacher and Hermione, she had brought presents for all of the occupants of Grimmauld Place and had found she rather enjoyed the entire affair.
Even when she and Harry returned home, she intended to celebrate holiday.
Morgana smiled warmly as fiddled with the gift Harry had given her.
The ring she wore had been his mother's gifted to her on their wedding day, and had also belonged to Harry's grandmother, who had received it from her husband.
It was a simple yet beautiful band or a precious metal she'd never heard of, and adorned with a brilliant, clear stone.
According to Sirius, it was an exceedingly expensive piece of jewellery, but it was the sentiment behind it that she truly cherished.
Morgana would've loved to meet Harry's parents.
Since arriving, she had seen photos of them and could only imagine the torment her husband had lived through wondering what they were like beyond the moving pictures.
James and Lily Potter had seemed happy, just as she and Harry were, though Morgana hoped their own tale would not end in such tragedy.
With how the war had progressed over the past months, it was often hard not ponder the very worst outcome. All had become so bleak, and though she and Harry were doing their utmost to bring it to an end, the task had only been made all the more difficult with Riddle continuing to hide.
Try as she might, there was still no sign of Bellatrix, but it was only a matter of time before the Dark lord and his followers would grow restless in the shadows.
It was not in the nature of the man to be so idle.
No, soon enough, he would step out into the light, and when he did, he would be faced with a vengeful Harry Potter, who would not let the man get away again.
Even so, her own efforts would continue.
As much as she had enjoyed her time here experiencing a different world, Morgana grew restless and eager to return home and to the life she and Harry had built together.
(Break)
"He's getting desperate, and it is only a matter of time before he does something stupid."
Albus nodded his agreement as he deflated.
He had hoped that if Draco was away from the influence of his father and the Dark Lord, he might see the error of his ways of his own accord, but if anything, he seemed to have only become more determined to succeed, particularly since returning to the castle from the Christmas break.
Albus had no doubt that he'd been given a firm reminder of what was expected of him, but try as he might, he'd been unable to deter Draco from his course of actions, and Harry's patience was all but gone.
"He is a man now, Albus, and he is endangering the students of the school with his stupidity. I cannot in good conscience allow it to continue. I have given you much more grace than I would any other, but this must stop. We either confront him together and deal with it, or I will do it alone. Someone is going to get hurt, and I would rather it be someone innocent in all of this."
"Tom will only kill Lucius and Narcissa in retaliation."
Harry remained unmoved by the reiteration.
"They chose to support him, and they will reap the consequences no matter what happens. Either they will die, or they will be spending the rest of their lives locked away. I know what I would prefer if I was in their position."
Albus knew that Harry was speaking truthfully, and perhaps it was merely his desire to preserve as many lives as he could when the fighting was done that stayed his hand, but he could not bring himself to all but condemn others to die.
"There must be another way," he murmured thoughtfully. "Do you think it possible for Sirius to reach Narcissa? Perhaps she will see reason when she learns we are aware of Draco's plot."
"I have no idea," Harry said with a shrug. "I will leave it with you for now, but only for another week. If he is not stopped by then, I will do so myself, Albus."
He left the office, and Albus sunk tiredly into his chair.
War truly was the damndest of things, and something he'd grown tired of many decades prior.
"He is right you know," Phineas broke into his thoughts. "Innocent lives should never be risked in favour of those proven to be your enemies."
The other portraits murmured their agreement.
"I know," Albus assured them. "What am I to do?"
"He made his choice, Albus," Everard said gently. "He could've come to you but chose to act on the monster's behalf."
"I am inclined to agree," Dilys interjected, offering him a sad smile. "I spent much of my life doing my utmost to save lives, but there are some that cannot be salvaged."
Albus nodded his understanding.
The decision seemed to come so easily for Harry, but he was not like the headmaster.
From what he had gleaned from the young man, most of his time away had been spent at war, witnessing the atrocities and misery men inflicted upon one another, all in the name of riches and glory.
Yet, he seemed to thrive from it.
Not that he yearned for violence the same way Tom did, nor did he revel in it, but he'd grown comfortable with it, so much so that hat appeared to be merely a logical decision to be made was something much more testing for others.
Harry would kill Draco; Albus did not doubt that.
He'd seen him kill more than enough of the Dark Lord's followers to attest to the very notion without hesitation, but Albus still believed that Draco could perhaps be saved.
Maybe he was being naïve in the face of whom he remembered being a very small boy not so many years ago, or maybe he hoped that there was indeed still some good left in the man he'd become.
Regardless, Albus knew he needed to act against him one way or the other before Harry's ominous prediction came true.
Someone would get hurt, and too many onlookers just hoping for the war to end had already fallen victim to it.
(Break)
"How many?" the Dark Lord asked impatiently as his group of Snatchers returned in the foyer of Malfoy Manor.
"Only this one, my lord," Scabior answered irritably, "but he doesn't have much to say for himself."
Lord Voldemort circled the lone man that had been apprehended.
He could smell the fear emanating from him, and that was on accentuated by the smell of urine as it trickled down his leg.
"What is your name?"
"B-Benson. Charles Benson."
"And you believe you are above the law, Mr Benson?" the Dark Lord asked.
The man shook his head.
"N-no, you see, I was working in Germany and didn't know about the law until I returned. By then, I was already a wanted man. I-I arrived at the Ministry to explain why I hadn't registered within the allotted time, and I was told it was too late, and that I should run."
"And who told you to run, Mr Benson?"
"I d-didn't catch his name, but he told me that if I went in, I wouldn't come back out. He was old, that's all I remember."
"One of Dumbledore's," the Dark Lord murmured unhappily. "Well, Mr Benson, are you aware of the punishment for failing to register?"
"Prison?"
He Dark Lord chuckled, and those within the foyer followed suit.
"Prison is right, and only because you have been honest with me. Had you lied…"
He broke off an allowed the threat to hang in the air.
"Take him away, Scabior."
Benson offered no protest as he was frog-marched out of Malfoy Manor, and the Dark Lord watched him leave before returning to his own quarters, where he found Bellatrix lounging on his sofa.
"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, frowning at the woman.
"I am bored," the woman groaned. "I have been trapped within these four walls for months, and Cissy is no fun since her useless husband lost his hand."
"And how is Lucius?"
He'd not seen the man for several weeks, not since he'd offered a final plea for his son's life.
It had been a rather pathetic attempt at changing the Dark lord's mind with tears and appealing to a sense of empathy that did not exist.
Of course, the fool had been denied.
The Dark Lord saw no reason to spare Draco if the boy failed, which seemed to be increasingly likely given he remained clueless on how he would succeed.
He was more pathetic than Lucius, though only because he was yet to take control of the family wealth.
"Drunk, mostly," Bellatrix said carelessly.
The Dark Lord could only shake his head.
He was not surprised.
Lucius had always been of a weak disposition.
When the Dark Lord had experienced his setback the night he'd visited the Potter in Godric's Hollow, the man had denounced him, had claimed to have been under the effects of the Imperius Curse, and that he had not been a willing participant in the attempted takeover of Britain.
Of course, his sense of self-preservation was admirable, but the moment the man had arrived in the graveyard of his muggle family home, the Dark lord had sensed his fear and discomfort at his master's return.
No, Lucius was not pleased and had been all but a failure since in all he'd done.
He'd failed to retrieve the prophecy, failed to use his influence to make any significant changes within the Wizengamot, and failed to raise a capable son of replacing him.
The man was simply an abject failure, and if he wished to drink himself into an early grave, the Dark Lord would be no worse off.
"Have you heard from your nephew?"
"Not a thing," Bellatrix answered. "He will fail."
"I expect he will," the Dark Lord sighed.
"You want him to die."
"I would prefer that he succeeds, but if he dies, he is no loss. I had hopes that the coming together of a Black and Malfoy might prove to provide a useful asset."
Bellatrix shook her head.
"Cissy was always weak, and Lucius a coward."
The Dark Lord hummed.
"Are we to remain so inactive?" Bellatrix asked as she stood from the sofa. "We all grow restless."
"Are we not in an advantageous position?"
"We are."
"Then why take unnecessary risks?"
"To remind the fools of the power and influence you wield. Soon enough, they will forget. Is it not best to keep reminding them?"
The Dark Lord eyed the woman.
Perhaps she was right.
He was under no illusion that she only wished to inflict misery and suffering on those she saw as beneath her, but he reasoning was sound enough.
All had been quiet whilst the Dark Lord focused on the political needs of his vision, but those who rebelled remained, and that very vision could not be brought to life until those who resisted were removed.
"Very well, Bellatrix," he agreed, "but you are to do what we always have. There will be no need to linger and take any unnecessary risks. Not that it will hurt if you were to strike where we are certain some of our enemies lurking."
Bellatrix grinned knowingly.
"Will you not be joining us?"
The Dark Lord shook his head.
"I will not."
Bellatrix watched him for a moment before heading towards the door.
"You know, those outside of those who know the truth believe you fear him."
"Fear whom?"
"Potter."
The Dark Lord felt his blood immediately boil in his veins, and he glared at the woman, whose eyes widened in a fear of her own.
"Who dares speak such lies?"
Bellatrix swallowed deeply.
"It is just whispers, my lord."
Lord Voldemort narrowed his eyes.
"Then you will silence them!" he snapped, banishing the woman from the room with a flick of his wand.
The door slammed behind her, and he took a moment to steady his breathing.
He did not fear Potter.
The young man would die at his hands, ending any notion that there was any that could hope to defeat the Dark Lord, but he could not deny that even false hope was troubling.
Nonetheless, his focus would remain on establishing control over magical Britain.
He and Potter would meet on his terms, and not because of some foolish whispers of those who dared to continue to doubt him.
Yet, it would not hurt to give his own reminder of why they feared him so.
Frowning thoughtfully, the Dark Lord took a seat by the fire to ponder just how he would just that.
(Break)
It was still odd to Harry to trawl through the meagre belongings of his parents that had been salvaged from the wreckage of their home. Between some plates that hadn't been broken, a few photos, and even James and Lily's clothes, there had been little to show for the life they'd built together.
It had been short.
Only a few years after they'd graduated, gotten married and had Harry, they were gone, even younger than he was now.
They'd not truly lived to experience the beauty of the world, even if it all seemed so grim now.
Harry smiled sadly as he held his mother's wand.
From what little he could thankfully remember, she'd not even drawn it when Riddle had arrived, choosing to use her body only to shield her son.
His father's was different.
James had tried to fight the Dark Lord, and though he'd been unsuccessful, his wand told the tale of a cornered, desperate man wanting to keep the threat of his foe away from his family.
Everything he'd cast had been only to delay the inevitable, to buy Lily some time that would never have been enough.
Nonetheless, they had not failed entirely.
Harry was here because of the sacrifice of his mother and father, and to him, that was a victory over Tom Riddle that came at the cost of his parent's lives.
"What's troubling you?" Morgana asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind.
"Just the usual."
She kissed him on the cheek, and Harry felt himself relax somewhat into her embrace.
"You cannot keep tormenting yourself over the things you cannot control," she murmured. "He will hide until it suit him, and there's little you can do. He has taken an advantage, and he will exploit it as much as he can to turn the war in his favour."
"I gave him an advantage," Harry pointed out. "If I hadn't have broken Albus's connection to the Ministry…"
"You would only be plagued with guilt, and Riddle would've gotten what he wanted eventually."
"Maybe," Harry conceded, "but that doesn't change that Albus is wrong. Malfoy should've been stopped long ago. That I can control."
"Will you kill him?"
Harry shrugged.
"Either I do it or Tom will. I suppose me doing it would be a mercy on his body, but the shame will follow him to the other side."
Morgana rolled her eyes at him.
"I agree with you," she assured him. "He should not have been allowed to continue as he has these past moons. He is a fool, and foolish people are a danger to those around them."
Harry nodded.
"I have given Albus only a week to act. If he doesn't, I will."
"That is fair, but I think you may be thinking about this a little too narrowly. You despise Malfoy, but he could be of use to you."
"How? He's an insignificant little shit."
"True, but he has knowledge of sorts. Much of it may seem useless to you, but there must be something worth looking in to. Maybe a way into his home, or something else. You said that he was tutored by Bellatrix in the Mind Arts."
"For what good that was," Harry snorted.
"That doesn't mean there is nothing he can't be used for. What about the mark he carries. Is there anything to gain from that?"
Harry frowned thoughtfully.
"Maybe," he murmured. "It would be good to get an understanding of how it works at the very least."
"There you go, something useful."
Harry offered his wife an appreciative smile.
Despite how maudlin he felt, she always found a way to make him feel better.
"I miss home," he sighed.
"Me too. We've been here almost nine moons now, which means it's been over two years there. I often wonder what is happening."
Harry nodded.
He had pondered little else in the moments he wasn't occupied by thoughts of Riddle.
"Well, we will only know when we return. Until then, we have this shit here to deal with."
Morgana gave his shoulder a squeeze.
"We will," she promised, "and then back to our little, simpler life."
"I wouldn't say simpler," Harry chuckled. "When has anything been simple?"
"It will one day."
"I hope so," Harry murmured, "but that day isn't today," he added as a pair of footsteps hurried along the landing towards their room.
A frantic knock sounded on the door, and Harry released a deep breath just as Sirius burst into the room.
"They're attacking Bristol! Death Eaters and Dementors!"
Harry stood immediately and took Morgana's hand.
"We will meet you there!"
With that, he apparated them away, determined to take just something away from the impending fighting.
All had been quiet for too long with very little to go on, but if he could capture a Death Eater or two, that could well be enough to grant him something of use.
(Break)
"Why so trouble, my king? Britain is at peace, and you are able to rule from your own castle."
Arthur continued to stare thoughtfully ahead of him.
He'd heard Myrddin's words, and yet, they felt so insincere, so rehearsed, and so hollow.
In truth, he did not know why he felt so uneasy.
The raids from the Picts in the North were being quelled well enough, his advisor was right; Britain was at peace and had been for the better part of two years now.
Still, something did not feel right.
Something was lurking on the horizon, and from all he had observed around him the past moons, he could not be certain what awaited him and his lands.
No, Arthur was deeply unsettled, and he'd never felt so alone.
Guinevere now spent most nights in her own rooms within Camelot, and what love they'd once shared seemed to diminish with each passing day.
Arthur was not the only one to notice this.
He'd heard the murmuring and whispering that followed him around Camelot and had even noticed the pitiful glances sent his way.
Thus far, he'd ignored it as best he could, but he couldn't deny it had begun to irk him.
Worse yet, those around him seemed content to allow him to continue with charade that all was well.
Myrddin often spoke of how well he was doing in his position, and even his subjects seemed happy with his rule, but Arthur was not.
No, something was brewing, and things were being kept from him at every turn, and all he wanted was someone he could confide in, someone he could trust.
Idly, his mind wandered to the one man who'd shown him nothing but such honesty, who had given him sage advice when he'd needed it most.
For more than two years now, there had been no word of Harry Potter.
He'd not been spotted anywhere in Arthur's kingdom, nor had any whispers reached him.
It was as though he'd simply vanished, or not even existed.
Only the scarred lands beyond his keep remained as a reminder that he had once indeed been here, and the occasional tale shared during feasts of all he'd done what was beginning to feel a lifetime ago.
Arthur missed his friend dearly; his dry wit, his honesty, and his propensity for often knowing even more than Myrddin.
He held out hope that one day he might just return, and that he too could reassure the king that all indeed was well.
(Break)
Harry cursed under his breath as he fired a spell towards the Dark mark hanging above the city of Bristol.
Despite having reacted within seconds of being informed of the attack, the Death Eaters were already in the process of fleeing when he and Morgana had arrived and had only hastened their retreat at the sight of them.
Bellatrix.
The woman had not even bothered donning her mask as she once would, and Morgana was seething that she'd managed to escape her.
"Three of my Aurors were killed here," Amelia Bones said sadly as she approached them.
Harry frowned at the revelation.
"Coincidence?"
Amelia shook her head.
"According to witnesses, they were targeted, pinned down in that building," she explained. "They are under strict instructions not to engage until reinforcements arrive. Someone knew they were here."
"Do you think you have a spy?"
Amelia deflated at the question.
"I cannot be certain, but I do not doubt the Death Eaters knew we have been frequenting the place. Still, it makes no sense. The Aurors are rotated regularly, and none are told where to until the last moment. Only Rufus and I know where they all are at a given time.
Harry's frown deepened as he continued to survey the area.
The building the Aurors had been in had indeed been targeted specifically.
The damage sustained spoke of such, and yet, if Amelia was being as careful as she should be, knowledge of their location should not have gotten out.
Something was off, but through the haze of irritation and suspicion, and idea began forming in his mind.
"What is it?" Morgana asked curiously.
"Just something I'm pondering," Harry murmured as he nodded to himself. "I might have something we can work with."
"You do?"
Harry nodded as he pieced together a plan.
It wouldn't necessarily give him Riddle, but it would certainly cause the Dark Lord to take necessary action, especially if Harry was able to make it into something to disrupt the man's regime.
"Harry?" Morgana pressed.
He shook his head in response and placed a finger to his lips.
"Not here," he whispered, unable to contain his excitement.
For months, all had been quiet enough, and more frustrating than anything Harry had yet to endure, but now, there was something of a glimmer at the end of the tunnel, even if it was barely discernible in the darkness.