The Fall
Sirius watched as the nervous Cornelius Fudge fidgeted uncomfortably by his podium. The man was pale, his hushed conversation with Lucius Malfoy animated as he glanced furtively towards the members of the media and gathered Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot.
In only a matter of hours of being arrested, the news had broken to the public, and ever since, the Minister had done all he could to silence the fact that his Under-Secretary had been arrested and charged with several counts of child abuse, torture, and illegally possessing control items and substances.
Immediately, an emergency meeting had been called where Fudge had blustered, threatened, and eventually pleaded for him to be allowed to address and resolve the matter himself.
The Wizengamot were almost unanimous in their decision that it would be them to preside over a trial where the evidence would be produced for their consideration.
The machinations of the Minister and his ilk had not stopped there, however. For days they had stalled in an attempt delay or present such a thing occurring entirely to no avail.
Every trick in the book had been used, but Sirius and the others had fended off even the most underhand of tactics.
'If Madam Umbridge is not guilty of her crimes, then she should have no trouble convincing her peers of her innocence. These charges are most serious, and I know from experience that not receiving a trial can be detrimental. If she is proven to have committed her crimes, she should be equally punished, should she not?'
That simple rebuttal from Sirius to any and all arguments put forward by Fudge and his team of lawyers was all it had taken to ensure the trial went ahead, and now, only a few days after Christmas and a week of delays, it would finally take place.
The room fell silent as Dumbledore's gavel came down with a crash, his gaze lacking the usual warmth that could be found there.
"Send in the accused," he instructed.
The pale, trembling, and dishevelled Dolores Umbridge was escorted into the chambers and was blinding by the sheer number of camera flashes from the gallery that held the media.
Not a single publication was absent, their readers eager to learn the outcome of what was to transpire today.
"Cornelius!" Umbridge yelped.
"The accused will remain silent unless questioned!" Dumbledore snapped, his reaction eliciting a jolt of surprise from many within the chambers.
It was not often the man raised his voice, and since Umbridge had been arrested, he had remained rather quiet on the matter, watching the proceedings with an unreadable expression.
Now, however, as he laid eyes upon the woman that had harmed some of the students under his care, he was showing how wroth he was, and how deeply it had upset him.
Clearing his throat in his capacity as the Chief Warlock, he looked stonily towards Umbridge who wilted under his gaze.
"Dolores Jane Umbridge, you are accused of five counts of child torture, inflicting injuries on said minors via use of a controlled object, possessing said object unlawfully, one count of attempting to administer a controlled substance to a minor, and being in unlawful possession of said substance. You have previously submitted a plea of 'Not Guilty' and it is now up to the prosecution to prove otherwise. Who has been nominated to lead the prosecution in this matter?"
Sirius stood, feeling a dozen or so pair of eyes burning into the back of his head, and from across where Fudge was seated.
"I will be presenting the evidence for the consideration of the Wizengamot," he said with a bow.
"Very well, Lord Black," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Please, proceed in your own time."
With another bow, Sirius held up a folder containing a thick stack of parchment.
"In a matter as severe as this, I want there to be absolutely no doubt in the mind of any within this room that Dolores Jane Umbridge is indeed guilty of each crime she stands accused. The evidence I will present to you is as conclusive as it is damning, and I will now present it to you. The folders in front of you contain photographic evidence, sworn statements from victims provided to the aurors, and the witness reports of the two aurors who arrested Madam Umbridge. We will begin by hearing the testimony of one, Colin Creevey, a fourth year Gryffindor student and view the subsequent photos taken of his injuries. Most will find this uncomfortable, and rightly so."
Sirius cleared his throat a final time, pleased to see he had the unwavering attention of the room, especially that of Cornelius Oswald Fudge, and his downright cruel Under-Secretary whom Sirius would see thrown to the dementors if he had his way.
(Break)
In his current capacity, Albus was required to remain objective in judicial matters, but as Sirius read each statement provided by the students and saw the accompanying photo for each that Harry had procured, it was all but impossible to pretend he was anything other than furious, disgusted, and heartbroken by what Dolores Umbridge had done.
The sentiment was reflected in the expressions of the Lords and Ladies, many of whom had children or relatives attending Hogwarts.
"As you can see, Dolores Umbridge took it upon herself to violently and without remorse subject these children to the disgusting treatment she exacted on them," Sirius said, his tone reproachful though sincere. "It is my belief that she should be made an example of so that any who considers harming the children we expect to be cared for dare not even consider it."
Murmurs of agreement followed and Sirius shot the still-trembling Dolores a final look of contempt.
"But let us not forget why we find ourselves here," he continued loudly, garnering the attention of the room once more. "The reason Dolores Umbridge was ever allowed to act in such a way was because of the interference of our Minister who insisted upon her appointment, which was approved by the school governors."
"Nonsense!" Cornelius denied firmly. "I am not responsible for this!"
"Was it not you that suggested she be appointed?" Sirius questioned sharply.
"I may have suggested it," Cornelius conceded, "but I did not expect nor condone such behaviour."
"And yet, it happened, Minister," Sirius returned sourly. "Children were subjected to vicious and cruel treatment by a woman you have advocated for incessantly for many years. You are not absolved of blame, and neither is Lord Malfoy."
Those within the room spoke amongst themselves excitedly, and the journalist's quills scratched away with due haste, none wishing to miss a syllable.
"How dare you!" Lucius growled as he stood.
"Sit down, Malfoy!" Sirius snapped. "I have here a written statement signed by each of the governors of Hogwarts who all claim to have been pressured through various means, by you, to support the appointment of Dolores Umbridge. They are quite willing to provide their own evidence if necessary."
"We are not here to discuss the Hogwarts' governors," Cornelius interjected.
"You are quite right, Minister," Sirius said silkily. "It is no longer a problem that needs to be confronted as Lucius Malfoy has been removed from his post. I was going to request his resignation for his oversight in this matter, but it proved to be unnecessary. You see, the other governors were grateful for my offer to replace him, and they voted on my appointment just this morning. Your services to Hogwarts will no longer be required," he added to a furious Lucius Malfoy."
Albus smiled beneath his beard.
He did not know how Sirius had managed it, but he had finally gotten rid of Lucius's influence in matters of the running of the school.
Again, those gathered spoke amongst themselves, most happy by Sirius's appointment.
"This is farcical!" Cornelius declared. "This is neither the time nor place to address such matters."
"Usually, you would be correct, Minister, but it is poignant to this case. Chief Warlock, as the current headmaster of Hogwarts, what is the process usually followed before a potential candidate is offered a position?"
Albus frowned questioningly as he cleared his throat, wondering where Sirius was going with this.
"Any potential candidate is vetted thoroughly," he began. "We reference their academic record, as well as request a report from the aurors for any past brushes with the law. Finally, if a candidate has ties to the Wizengamot, their voting records are examined carefully to check for any potential prejudices they may hold."
"Thank you, Chief Warlock," Sirius said gratefully. "Just one final question; did you receive these reports when Dolores Umbridge was appointed."
"I did not," Albus confirmed. "I requested them as I usually would, and they never arrived."
Cornelius looked rather uncomfortable by the revelation, as did the members of the Wizengamot.
"I expect this will shed some light on why your request was not fulfilled," Sirius declared as he removed another stack of parchment. "Academically speaking, Dolores Umbridge should never have been allowed near a classroom to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was Graded 'Dreadful' in her OWLs and was not accepted onto the NEWT level course. Furthermore," he continued, cutting through the din, "although she has not been in trouble with the law, her introduction and advocacy of laws that have found themselves before you all is troubling at best. Bills against the rights of humanoid creatures, against half-bloods and muggleborns, extending prison sentences so they serve longer. The list goes on. My conclusion is that Dolores Umbridge harbours exceedingly unpleasant thoughts on those she deems to be unworthy, and by design, the students subjected to her treatment were all muggleborns and half-bloods. Not once throughout her time at Hogwarts did she so much as deduct a point from any pureblood student, let alone punish them further for their transgressions. The verdict in this case is a simple one. Dolores Umbridge should be punished harshly, be barred from working with children, and immediately removed from her post as Under-Secretary to the Minister."
Silence.
None spoke as Sirius took his seat, his glare shifting from Dolores, to Lucius, and finally coming to rest on the dumbfounded Cornelius Fudge.
Albus could not have presented the case better. Sirius had covered all bases, gathered more than enough evidence, and had delivered it in a damning yet articulate manner.
There truly was nothing else to be done for Dolores, and Cornelius knew it.
His own reputation would suffer greatly for this, as would Lucius's and though he hid it well from the prying eyes of the other members of the Wizengamot and media, Albus had no doubt that Sirius was feeling very smug.
"We shall deliberate the matter," Cornelius announced defeatedly. "All non-members of the Wizengamot, I ask that you take your leave whilst we do so.
The journalists left silently, and Albus prepared himself for what he expected would be a very brief adjournment.
There was no doubt that Dolores was guilty of all she had been accused of, and as he peered around the room speculatively, he could not see a single person that appeared to be willing to sully their own reputation by pleading to the contrary.
(Break)
Lucius looked towards Black with utter loathing. Ever since the man had taken the prestigious position of Lord of the notorious family, he had caused nothing but problem after problem.
The changes within him were unexpected. Having discussed Black at length with Narcissa, Lucius had gotten no indication the man possessed even an ounce of political acumen, but evidently, he had taken after his grandfather much more than any would have believed.
Lucius remembered the years gone by when Arcturus would stalk into the Wizengamot, his air of superiority unmatched along with his wit, his ruthlessness, and respectability.
He had been a Lord to whom all afforded respect, and the man had cultivated excellent relationships across the entire political field through business dealings and supporting the right bills put forward by the right people.
Sirius had seamlessly slotted into the very same position and was cementing his own reputation.
If only the fool would do the right thing and die!
Within these chambers, Black was the very picture of the strong, attentive Lord, but outside of them, he was cunning and elusive.
All those Lucius had tasked with killing the man had failed, and after the first attempt, Sirius had allowed none to live. Almost twenty thus far had perished, and now, none would take on the challenge of eliminating the enigmatic man.
Lucius too had grown wary of Black.
If he had taken on the role of Lord of the family, had he also taken advantage of the vast magical wealth at his disposal?
If he had, and the ruthlessness he'd demonstrated thus far had prevailed, he would be difficult for any to best.
Lucius could not help but think that Bellatrix would have been their best candidate to eliminate her cousin. Although he was not fond of the woman by any stretch, her apparent loss was unmissable.
She may have been a deranged egomaniac with a penchant for absolute cruelty, but there was no denying she was the best of the Death Eaters when it came to duelling and violence.
"So, the decision is unanimous?" Cornelius sighed.
The Wizengamot had been conferring for less than five minutes when the signal that they were ready to give their verdict was received.
"It appears so," Lucius muttered irritably.
Black antics had done more damage than most would be able to comprehend.
Pointing the finger of blame at both Lucius and Cornelius would have significant ramifications from here on out, and it was unlikely there as anything to be done to salvage any credibility from the situation.
Umbridge had proven herself a monster, and Lucius could sense the journalists in attendance chomping at the bit to tar him and the Minister with the same brush for her placement within the school.
"Those of the media are now permitted to re-enter," Dumbledore announced.
Lucius sneered as they did so, the outcome of this mess already decided, and he did not expect it to be favourable.
"Having listened to Lord Black's presentation of the gathered evidence against Dolores Jane Umbridge, the Wizengamot has reached a unanimous verdict," Dumbledore spoke, reading from a sheet of parchment. "On all charges brought against her, Dolores Jane Umbridge has been found guilty."
The woman wailed and collapsed to her knees at the declaration, though Dumbledore ignored this and continued to address the room at large.
"As such, it is the duty of the Wizengamot to sentence her, which will be one week from now. Until then, Madam Umbridge is to remain in the custody of the Ministry of Magic."
With a smart tap of his gavel, Umbridge's fate was sealed, as was Fudge's.
The man slumped defeatedly though he maintained enough composure to stand tall before the swarm of reporters that congregated around him.
Lucius took the opportunity to leave the chambers.
His own reputation would suffer, so he felt no need to remain behind and justify his part in what had transpired.
Umbridge had been a fool, and Lucius a damned one for insisting upon her appointment. Had he known she harboured such an ability to be so obtusely cruel to the students, he would not have done, if only to ensure his own reputation was preserved.
Now, he would come under close scrutiny, had already lost one of his loftier positions, and had been bested by Sirius Black.
It was indeed an unenviable outcome for the prominent Lord whose reputation was in tatters, whose wealth was significantly lessened, and whose life had only taken a turn for the worse since the Dark Lord had returned.
(Break)
It had been just over a year ago that Harry had last dressed in formal attire for the Yule Ball, and as he took in his reflection in the mirror, he was flooded with memories from that night.
"Only a year," he murmured.
With everything that had occurred since, it felt longer, but he could not deny that the ball itself had been one of the best memories of his short life. It had been the night that he and Katie had truly begun spending their free time together.
They had danced, and they had talked by the lake until the early hours, and only a matter of months later, she was gone.
"You're looking rather dashing, Harry," Perenelle commented as she entered the living room.
He had opted to spend Christmas with the Flamels instead of at Grimmauld Place in the line of disapproving glares he'd receive from the coming and going members of the Order of the Phoenix.
He offered Perenelle a weak smile.
"As do you," he replied before kissing her on the cheek.
"Green really suits you."
He couldn't bring himself to wear the robes he had for the ball and had purchased new ones for the evening he would be spending with the Delacours. In truth, he was not relishing the idea of attending, but he had given his word to both Sebastien and Gabrielle that he would.
It helped that Nicholas and Perenelle would be going along with him, in disguise, of course.
Sebastien had written to them separately and invited them, though urged the famous couple to do so using pseudonyms.
It was quite the gesture from the man. Sebastien understood that Nicholas and Perenelle preferred to live away from the spotlight, and he was willing to respect that despite the opportunity to brag of his acquaintance with them.
It only made Harry respect the Frenchman more.
"Damned tie, and damned robes," Nicholas grumbled as he entered the room, wrestling with a length of silk.
Perenelle tutted and rolled her eyes at her husband.
"It has been more than six centuries and you still have not learned how to tie a tie," she admonished playfully.
"I don't like ties," Nicholas said petulantly.
Perenelle smirked as she arranged the man's clothing, much to his chagrin.
"There," she declared when she was done. "Now you can stop acting like a baby."
Harry snorted amusedly, eliciting a glare from the alchemist.
"You'll be married one day," Nicholas pointed out. "Then you'll see for yourself the live you will be allowed to live."
"You bring your own difficulties on yourself, Nicholas Flamel," Perenelle chided. "You are stubborn and difficult."
"You're stubborn and difficult."
"Grow up, Nicholas," Perenelle huffed.
The man shot a wink at Harry.
"Sometimes, a little pettiness will go far," he whispered conspiratorially.
"I'll remember that if I decide I am tired of life," Harry returned with a grin as Perenelle seized Nicholas by his tie and led him from the room.
The man's protests fell on deaf ears and Harry could only laugh at his plight as he followed.
At the very least, he would be in good company with the man and woman he had come to care for so dearly, despite what else the rest of the evening would entail.
(Break)
Gabrielle tucked one of the loose tendrils of her behind her ear and nodded to herself before fiddling with one of the straps of her dress. She was getting used to being taller and womanlier, but usually she did all she could to hide it when she was at Beauxbatons.
Things had scarcely improved for her since she'd returned to school. The boys that had been so dismissive of her stared longingly with glazed eyes and the girls with envy.
It didn't matter. She had gotten used to that too.
"How do I look?" she asked the smirking Fleur.
Gabrielle chose to ignore the expression of her older sister in favour of getting her opinion.
"Beautiful," she answered simply before she sighed. "Gabby, you're not going to, well, you know? Harry…"
"I'm not going to do anything," Gabrielle denied. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to look nice, is there."
"Gabby."
Gabrielle shook her head as she turned away from the mirror.
"I'm not stupid, Fleur," she assured her sister. "I know what happened and I know he won't be close to ready for anything like that. That doesn't mean that I shouldn't look good and try to make him smile."
Fleur muttered something incoherent under her breath as she stood.
"Just be careful," she urged.
"I will," Gabrielle promised, feeling nervous as the floo to the house chimed. "The guests are coming!"
She ignored the pointed look of Fleur as she flattened out her dress and made her way towards the parlour that the guests would be arriving in.
"Young lady, you should never rush for any man," a voice chided as Gabrielle passed the kitchen.
"I am not rushing for anyone, mother," Gabrielle denied.
Her mother quirked an eyebrow at her as she looped Gabrielle's arm through her own.
"Calmly, my girl," she said soothingly.
"Why does everyone think I am trying get Harry's attention?" Gabrielle grumbled.
"You have been fretting since your received his reply confirming he will be here. You fretted about your new dress, your shoes, your hair. There's nothing wrong with having a crush Gabrielle, but this is not so simple. I suppose that only makes him more appealing to you," Apolline added with a huff.
"It isn't like that," Gabrielle returned, the warmth of her cheeks doing little to convince her mother. "It isn't."
Apolline hummed.
"Whether it is or not, just be careful. Rein your magic in and be respectful of him. I can already feel your hormones, and as your mother, it is rather disturbing."
"I feel yours and Fleur's," Gabrielle said with a grimace.
Apolline tutted as she led the way into the parlour, the two of them being greeted by the question gaze of Sebastien Delacour.
"It's a lady thing," Apolline said simply.
Sebastien shook his head and held up a hand.
"I do not want to know," he said dismissively, smiling as the fireplace flared into life, though it fell as the first guest stepped through.
"Grandmother!" Gabrielle exclaimed excitedly.
The older veela grunted as Gabrielle threw herself into her arms, joined by the arriving Fleur who was equally thrilled to see her.
"Well, if I didn't need something strong to drink before, I certainly do now."
"Of course you do," Sebastien muttered.
"Watch your tone!" Gabrielle's grandmother. "Greet me correctly, you stupid boy."
"Hello, Mother," the man sighed good-naturedly before kissing her on the cheek.
"That's better. Now, get out of the way. I will need whiskey if I'm to make it through the night."
"I will show you to the kitchen," Apolline insisted.
"I didn't realise I was incapable of finding it," Gabrielle's grandmother snorted. "You'll stay where you are girl. I don't need help pouring a drink."
"I'm surprised she hasn't started drinking it out of the bottle to save time," Sebastien murmured.
Before her mother could chastise him, the fireplace flared into life once more, and Gabrielle recognised one of the men her father worked with and his wife.
As ever, she went through the process of greeting them politely, and found herself repeating it at least a dozen or so times more before she grew restless and her gaze shifted towards the clock mounted above the mantel.
"Scared he won't come?" Fleur taunted with a smirk.
"He'll be here," Gabrielle replied simply, though she did feel a sense of nervousness wash over her.
What if Harry had changed his mind?
Gabrielle didn't know why the thought bothered her so much in this moment. Perhaps it was that he had saved her life and that she hadn't had the opportunity to thank him, or maybe it was that she wanted him to see the changes that had occurred after the fact?
She truly didn't know her own motivation, but as the fireplace burst into life and an older couple emerged, she felt more than a little disappointed that it wasn't Harry arriving.
Fleur and her mother were grinning at her before they greeted the latest arrivals.
"Gabrielle?" he father called, interrupting her thoughts. "This is Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, but you are to refer to them as Mr and Mrs Lavel for this evening."
Gabrielle had heard the words of her father, but she was distracted by the young man that had stepped out of the fireplace in the interim, and she felt rather put-out that Fleur got to Harry before she could even take a step forward.
Fleur hugged him tightly, as did her mother, and yet, Gabrielle remained rooted to the spot, unsure of what to say or do.
Taking a moment to compose herself whilst her father exchanged pleasantries with Harry, she stood at her full height despite feeling like shrinking as he looked towards her.
For a fleeting second, she felt like a little girl once more, but she would not show it. She was not the same girl who had stolen sips of his drink in The Three Broomsticks or tried to convince him to take Fleur to the Yule Ball.
"I am sure you remember Gabrielle," her father said amusedly.
"I do," Harry confirmed with a smile, a gesture that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He looked well enough, strong and had grown himself in the many months that had passed since she'd last seen him, but the sadness in his eyes was new and unwelcome.
Gabrielle immediately despised that lingering sadness, and as she wrapped her arms around him, she wanted nothing more than to take it away when they broke apart.
"It is good to see you, Harry," she whispered, ignoring the myriad of looks she was receiving from the others.
"It seems that you are the last to arrive," her father declared. "Come, I will show you into the ballroom."
Harry walked alongside the Flamels and Gabrielle hung back with Fleur who offered her a sympathetic smile.
"I did tell you," she said, though without any of the usual smugness she would exhibit whenever she was right. "It is horrible, isn't it?"
Gabrielle nodded.
"He just looks so…"
"Lost?" Fleur broke in.
"Sad."
Fleur nodded her agreement.
"Now do you see why I said you need to be careful? He is not the same Harry Potter you remember."
"I'm not the same either," Gabrielle murmured. "I don't like seeing him sad. It's like I can feel it too."
Fleur gave Gabrielle's hand a squeeze.
"Maybe you should rescue him tonight," she suggested as they reached the ballroom.
Immediately, her father's colleagues had all but swarmed towards Harry, led by the Minister of Magic himself who was evidently keen to make his acquaintance.
"I'm sure he would appreciate being helped to escape that throughout the evening."
Gabrielle nodded.
She hadn't known what to expect seeing Harry again, but it hadn't been someone who seemed so deeply unhappy. She understood that Katie's death would have left a lingering effect on him, and that he would likely never recover from it fully, but it was more than the girl's passing that seemed to be haunting him.
What else had happened to make him feel such a way?
Gabrielle had her suspicions, had heard her father and mother discussing what was happening in Britain. Nonetheless, it bothered her much more than she'd anticipated and she made it her goal to see him smile just once, absent of the burden he carried by the end of the night.
(Break)
The Dark Lord looked on as Severus work. Through his efforts, he had gotten Augustus in a seated position, though the man's eyes remained glazed over and seemingly unseeing.
"He is still not ready, my lord," Severus murmured as he withdrew from Rookwood's mind. "It will take some yet."
Lord Voldemort's serpent-like nostrils flared irritably before he nodded.
Augustus was babbling like an infant as a line of drool hung from his chin. The man remained in a bad way, as did the others he had liberated from Azkaban.
"His mind?"
"Exceedingly frail, my lord," Severus answered candidly. "It is nothing short of a miracle that he is making any progress, but I must take it slow. Just a little too much pressure will undo all the work. It is being held together only by threads of coherency."
"Keep working, Severus," the Dark Lord instructed. "What of the others?"
The Potions Master shook his head.
"They are not progressing so well. Rodolphus and Alecto are both experience severe, traumatic nightmares. Any progress they are making is being undone by them."
As if on cue, Rodolphus unleashed a blood-curdling scream and his expression became one of outright terror. Tears streamed down his cheeks before he fell unconscious once more.
"If they do not stop, I expect the damage will be entirely irreversible, if it already isn't."
"Potter," the Dark Lord muttered as though it was a curse before he stormed from the room.
By now, the giants should be here, causing havoc across Britain with the werewolves and the rest of the Death Eaters. Instead, they remained on the continent until the Dark Lord was ready to retrieve the prophecy from within the Department of Mysteries.
For that, he needed Augustus, though the outlook on his prognosis was not encouraging.
"Barty, I do hope you have brought me some good news," he spoke as he entered his study to find the man waiting.
"I am still unable to enter the department as yet, my lord, but I will find a way," Barty assured him.
The Dark Lord hummed sceptically.
"There are still no signs that the Order are watching?"
"Not the Order, my lord," Barty said with certainty, "but quite often, I can feel something."
"Feel something?"
"It is strange," Barty whispered concernedly. "It grows suddenly cold, almost as though the dementors are there, but they are not. I am certain I have heard someone laughing at me."
The Dark Lord shook his head.
"It is the Department of Mysteries, Barty," he pointed out. "I would be surprised if you did not experience anything strange during your time there."
"My lord, I do not believe it is coming from the department," Barty replied with certainty. "I do not know what it is or where it comes from, but I can feel it. It is like something is threatening me, prodding my core with whatever it is."
"You have not been attacked?"
"No, my lord."
"Do you not think if there was anything nefarious there and it knew of your presence it would have allowed you to remain?"
"Perhaps not," Barty murmured.
The Dark Lord frowned.
It was not like Barty to be spooked so easily, and even though he was not in his best graces, it would be foolish to dismiss his concerns entirely.
"I will switch your guard, Barty," he conceded. "You will only be required to be in the Ministry every other evening. I will send another to fill the other times."
Barty offered him a grateful bow.
"Thank you, my lord," he said gratefully. "Is there anything else you require of me?"
There were many things the Dark Lord required, though few that could be helped.
"Not for now, Barty," he said dismissively.
The man offered a bow before taking his leave of the room, seemingly happier than when he had arrived. If only the Dark Lord had cause for celebration.
Until Severus could heal Augustus, there would be none, unless Bella was somehow returned to him.
Often, he could feel her mark calling to him, but wherever she was, he could not get to her.
In truth, he had already accepted her fate, and though he felt her loss, he had other things that required his focus. He needed Rookwood and he needed to be in a position where his plans for Britain could get underway.
Without the former, the latter would have to wait, though the Dark Lord grew ever more impatient.
If Augustus could not be of use, he would simply have to take the initiative and retrieve the prophecy himself, unless Potter or Dumbledore appeared within the department to do it themselves.
Regardless, it would be a considerable risk going after it once it had been retrieved, a risk he could do without.
(Break)
His arm had numbed slightly from the amount of handshakes he had received from the other guests. The French Minister had sung his praises for having helped Gabrielle and Fleur during the second task and proclaimed proudly that Harry was an honoured citizen of France, the country he had chosen.
Harry didn't have the heart to tell the man that Nicholas had arranged the citizenship without his knowledge.
Instead, he had simply smiled politely, though he had almost refused the medal gifted to him.
"Sebastien says you are not one for ceremony, so I thought presenting it to you in a private setting would be more to your taste, Mr Potter. It is our highest honour."
With a prompting nod from Nicholas, Harry had humbly accepted it, and much to his relief, he was then left to enjoy the evening.
Sebastien had apologised profusely for not being aware of the Minister's intentions to give the award. He had not been made aware of the honour.
Harry didn't blame the man, though he could have done without the grinning from Gabrielle who had taken it upon herself to help him with the interactions with the other guests.
In truth, he was grateful for it.
Just when a conversation seemed to be heading into a topic of considerable substance, she steered it towards something more mundane, bringing each one to an end.
"It's not funny," Harry grumbled.
The girl smiled brightly at him, and Harry felt her magic probing at his own. It was much harder now that she had matured and it was stronger.
He had certainly been taken aback by her appearance. Gabrielle no longer resembled a small girl but was much more similar to her mother and sister, perhaps even more beautiful in her own way. Despite what she had endured, she seemed to be doing well enough now.
"I'm sorry, it's just funny to watch you trying to care about what any of them were saying."
"Was it so obvious?"
Gabrielle nodded.
"I wasn't trying to be rude but…"
"They were rambling on about a lot of political stuff you don't care about?"
"Exactly."
Gabrielle giggled as she led him around the Delacour home.
It was a grand place that screamed of opulence and wealth. It wasn't to Harry's taste, but he could see the amount of pride the family took in it.
"Father was gifted the house from the Ministry," Gabrielle explained. "For distinguished services to the French people," she added in an exaggerated, upper-class accent. "He doesn't like living here, but he has to for show. We don't really use much of the house at all."
"I wouldn't want to live here," Harry chuckled. "It's nice, but it doesn't have a homely feel."
Gabrielle nodded her agreement before releasing a deep breath.
"Harry…"
He held up a hand and shook his head.
"You don't have to say anything."
"I want to," Gabrielle returned simply. "Everyone else has had the chance to say thank you, but I haven't. Would you let me?"
Her eyes were pleading, and although he'd received enough gratitude to last him a lifetime just this evening, he nodded.
She offered him a smile as she took his hand.
"Thank you for saving my life," she said sincerely. "You didn't have to do what you did, and you almost died because of it."
"You're welcome," Harry replied with a smile. "Are you doing okay now?"
Gabrielle shrugged.
"I won't lie, it's not been easy," she sighed. "My recovery was difficult enough but going back to Beauxbatons was harder. The people who I thought were my friends aren't anymore. I never understood what Fleur went through until it happened to me. Sometimes I wish I could just be back to how I was."
"A nosy…"
"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," Gabrielle warned. "I might owe you my life, but that doesn't mean I won't make yours difficult."
Harry laughed amusedly, and the girl offered him a triumphant grin.
"I knew I would make you smile at least once."
"I smile."
"Not like you mean it," Gabrielle said sadly. "I'm really sorry for what happened to Katie, Harry. If there was one thing I would change about anything that happened in the tournament, it would be that."
Harry swallowed deeply as he nodded.
"Me too."
They fell silent for a moment, and Harry did his utmost to push away the dull ache that plagued him whenever Katie was mentioned. It didn't hurt as it did before, but the sense of loss had not faded.
"I can feel how much it hurts you," Gabrielle murmured. "I can feel your guilt and how much you wish you could have done something when you felt so helpless."
Harry frowned curiously at the girl whose eyes brimmed with tears.
"We are quite empathetic creatures, Harry," Gabrielle explained. "We can often feel what others do. I suppose it's just stronger with you because of the magical connection we share from the life debt."
"Sorry," Harry offered.
Gabrielle rolled her eyes at him.
"You don't have to be sorry," she chided lightly. "You're allowed to feel sad and angry, and anything else you want to after what happened, but it would be nice to see you happy again one day."
"It would be nice to feel it," Harry sighed.
"You will," Gabrielle assured him as she squeezed his hand. "One day all of this will feel like a bad memory. You won't forget it, but you'll learn to live with it and it won't hurt so much."
"I didn't realise you were a seer."
Gabrielle tutted.
"I'm not, idiot, but you still have hope. You might not be able to feel it yet, but I can. I have hope too that things won't always be the way they are, so I know what it feels like. You can still be happy, Harry. It might not seem like it now, but that part of you is still in there somewhere."
"I hope you're right," Harry quipped.
"You're still the same annoying…"
"Annoying what?" Harry pressed.
Gabrielle shook her head and smirked at him.
"I'm not going to dignify that with a response," she said airily. "I think we should head back though. We wouldn't want my father thinking you had cashed in your life debt for a sample of my flesh. Can you imagine the scandal?"
"I would never…"
"I know," Gabrielle giggled as she looped her arm through his. "You really do need to lighten up, Harry. You're allowed to be sad, but you can still take a joke, no?"
"Bloody hell. I'd almost forgotten how much of a pain you could be."
Gabrielle simply grinned at him.
"You've not seen anything yet, Harry Potter," she replied.
Her words were ominous, a little teasing, and with a hint of threat to them. She may have gone through a maturity of sorts, but Gabrielle Delacour had evidently not changed all that much.
It was strange in a way.
Seeing her as she looked now, Harry barely remembered the little girl she had resembled. It was like meeting her for the first time all over again, but in an oddly familiar way.
"Oh, my father looks inquisitive," Gabrielle murmured. "It's okay, we only mated twice," she added to the man as he approached with her mother.
Sebastien scoffed whilst Harry looked at the smiling girl in horror.
"Gabrielle, that is not funny," Apolline chastised. "Your poor father does not need to hear that."
Harry could only shake his head as Gabrielle doubled over with laughter and Sebastien scowled at his daughter.
"Why did I have to have girls?" he despaired.
Apolline patted him comfortingly on the shoulder.
"I am sorry, she takes after my mother."
"And you," Sebastien muttered. "She is just as bad as you were when we first met."
"I have no idea what you mean, Sebastien," Apolline denied.
She sounded similar to Gabrielle, and Harry could see where the latter had inherited her personality. The way they smiled, the way their eyes sparkled with mischief was eerily similar.
"Never marry a veela, Harry," Sebastien warned. "Or just never have daughters. I'm not sure where my mistake began."
Apolline tutted at her husband and swatted him on the shoulder this time.
"You are so dramatic, Sebastien," she huffed. "Come, we are going to sit for dinner. Gabrielle, I think it is best if you sit with me."
"How am I going to rub my foot on Harry's?" Gabrielle groaned, offering him a wink.
Harry could only shake his head as he followed whilst Apolline again chided her daughter and Sebastien cursed his lot in life.
(Break)
"They're just not taking the bait anymore," Sirius grumbled irritably, aiming a kick at a nearby bin in the alley they'd huddled in.
"It wasn't going to last forever," Remus pointed out. "I think they're tired of dying."
"Then we will have to change tactics," Sirius decided. "Maybe I will make sure I'm seen in some of the pubs. It will be too difficult for them to ignore."
Remus shook his head.
"That's too risky."
Sirius waved him off.
"We're at war, Moony. We're going to have to take risks if we're going to win."
"Bloody hell, you've got a death wish."
"No, but I don't see the problem in thinning his numbers. He might be hiding, but we're not. We need to take advantage whilst we can. He won't hide forever, and when he does show himself, it's going to be like it was before."
Remus nodded his agreement.
"it will be," he said ominously. "Alright, I'm with you."
"Of course you are," Sirius chuckled. "You know James would be too if he was here."
"Only because he was as mad as you," Remus huffed. "Come on, if we're going to do this, we need to plan it properly. The last thing you want is to be caught with your trousers down."
"It's the best way to be caught," Sirius snorted. "Oh, cheer up, Moony. I was only joking."
"You know this is no joke. If we get caught…"
He didn't need to finish the sentence and Sirius sobered immediately.
Being killed during combat was one thing but being caught and taken to the Dark Lord was another.
Both had witnessed the cruelty of the man, and despite their best intentions to help Harry and Wizarding Britain at large, neither wished to have such a fate befall them.