Amongst the Apple Trees
A/N
Another one in the books for you guys here.
This week, the podcast will feature TheEndless7 and I have also recorded my first Game of Thrones one with Priestess of Groove which will be uploaded next Friday.
Also, there is a Poll on m page with choices as to what you would like to see me next. It is open to all, so do go and have your say.
Anyway, onwards with the chapter,
TBR
Cornelius Fudge stomped towards the office of Madame Marchbanks, his chest puffed out and with his two auror guards trailing behind, acting as his escort. The report he had received from Dolores had left him miffed and with many questions, all of which he was determined to have answered.
Potter had embarrassed him, had openly mocked him in front of the entire Wizengamot who spoke of the event still, whispering it amongst themselves when they believed he was not listening. Cornelius was always listening. He had eyes and ears everywhere.
Not only had he been publicly humiliated, Potter continued to spew the ridiculous lies he and the French girl had concocted about the supposed resurrection of the Dark Lord. Lucius's assessment of the boy was right; he was delusional and a danger to the peace of wizarding Britain.
He knew not what games were being played or what aspirations Potter had, but he would not allow them to come to pass. He was the Minister and there was none that could hope to defy him in such a way and get away with it.
This latest development was just another slap in the face to all of those that had worked tirelessly to achieve success in life. How dare the boy be given preferential treatment over the rest of his peers? Cornelius had no doubt that Dumbledore was involved and was likely trying to curry favour with his student. For the life of him, however, he could not understand how Griselda had been taken in by whatever scheme was afoot.
Well, herself and Dumbledore had been acquainted for decades, perhaps more than a century. Or it could be that the woman's age was finally catching up to her and she had done what she had unwittingly. He hoped for the latter and ignored the thought that she could have been manipulated or coerced into such a thing, though it would only add credence to his own suspicions; Potter and Dumbledore wanted power and influence. What position could be loftier than his own?
His pace quickened at the thought. The boy was famous, incredibly so and could prove to be a real thorn in his side if left unchecked. No, he could not allow it. Any ambition he had needed to be quelled before it was too late. Perhaps he should acquiesce to Dolores's request? He could always pass it off in a way that he was trying to improve the British education system.
It was something he would have to ponder further and maybe discuss it with Lucius. He would know the best way to approach the situation and finally deal with the problem Potter and Dumbledore posed.
He shook his head of his inner ramblings as he reached the door and knocked, failing to remember any time he'd had to visit here for official purposes since his tenure began so many years ago.
He heard a deep, mumbled sigh before the door was opened and he was greeted by the ancient woman who wore a look of surprise.
"Minister, what can I do for you today?"
Her tone was polite, yet firm, having seemingly lost none of the authority she had always spoken with. Cornelius may have shared little conversation with Madame Marchbanks but with only a single line, she made him feel as though he was seventeen again and under scrutiny by the examiner.
Nonetheless, those days were long passed, and he stood at his full height.
"I have received a rather alarming report pertaining to yourself and I demand and explanation."
The woman merely raised an eyebrow at him, his stern demeanour evidently having no effect.
"And what is the nature of this report?"
Despite his best efforts, Cornelius swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry for reasons he could not fathom.
"It has been brought to my attention that you have assessed Harry Potter for his OWLS and NEWTS and have even signed off for the boy to be apprenticed in two subjects."
Madame Marchbanks nodded.
"I don't see what concern of yours that is, Minister."
"Potter is currently making a nuisance of himself towards the Ministry, do you think that is something to be rewarded?" Cornelius returned.
Marchbanks had the temerity to laugh in his face.
"A nuisance to the Ministry? From what I have seen, Minister, it is yourself that has made an arse of yourself where the boy is concerned. The trial, the attempts to publicly discredit him and stationing your secretary at the school posing as a professor," she reeled off. "You have to remember, boy, I assessed the woman personally and she is barely fit to shovel Hippogriff dung. What on earth you were thinking allowing her to teach, I will never know. This year's crop of students that I have to assess will likely not be up to par to receive the grades they deserve because of that woman and the drivel she is teaching."
"She is teaching a Ministry approved curriculum…"
"Approved by whom? It is I that ultimately has the final say in matters of curriculum and I certainly would never sign off on that rubbish."
"I approved it personally," Fudge fired back, his face purpling under the scrutiny.
Again, Marchbanks laughed.
"Of course you did, but I don't remember receiving the memo that explains that you are now the authority in matters of education. When was this decided by the Wizengamot?"
"I took what action I saw as necessary," Cornelius sputtered, "but that is beyond the point! I want to know what the hell you were thinking with your actions with Harry Potter?"
"My actions?" Marchbanks fired back. "I did only what my job requires of me. I answered a request made by one of the best educators I have had the pleasure of working with and assessed a student they believed was ready…"
"Who is only now fifteen!"
"Who has proven himself more than capable!"
The two were almost nose to nose by now, neither willing to back down.
"Let me tell you something, Minister," Marchbanks growled, her emphasis on his title forced, "I have been doing this job since long before you were even a twinkle in your mother's eye and none before you have questioned my decisions where my expertise is concerned. Can you say the same?"
"We are getting off topic," Cornelius grumbled as he took a step back.
"Yes, we are," Marchbanks agreed. "You wanted to know why I assessed him?"
"I want to know why you passed him."
"Because he earned his grades, you dithering buffoon," Marchbanks huffed. "In all my years as an educator, I can count on one hand the students that have proven themselves as adept as Mr Potter and have two remaining fingers. Your ego may not like it, but Harry Potter is one of them."
"The boy is a liar and is causing problems for the ministry!"
"No, he is causing problems for you," Marchbanks countered. "As much as you wish it, you are not the entire ministry, or has your self-importance swelled so much? I have seen many pass through your office, some great men and women and some that have proved to be fools, whichever they were, they all had one thing in common. Would you like to know what that is?"
Cornelius scowled. He was not interested in the woman's thoughts, but she was evidently going to share them anyway.
"Their time in office came to an end. Yours will too before long but you will be remembered. Whether that is as a fool or one of the greats, that is up to you. Now, if you have finished with your inquisition, I have work to do, Minister."
"And what of Potter?"
The woman's mouth formed into a hard line as she drew her wand and summoned a thick stack of parchment.
"These are his results and the subsequent paperwork I signed off for him to apprentice under Minerva and Filius. Should you wish to make a song and dance about it with the Wizengamot and perhaps have my employment terminated, I welcome your efforts. I can always simply summon the boy and he can demonstrate to you all just how good he is. Now, good day, Minister."
With her dismissal, she all but slammed the door in his face leaving him trembling in rage and clutching the wad of parchment she had shoved into his chest.
After a moment, a thoroughly chastised and apoplectic Cornelius Fudge turned from the door and headed back towards his own office. How dare the woman question him? How dare she speak to him as though he was one of the fools she had referred to.
He clenched his jaw tightly as he read through the grades the boy had been given, knowing there was little he could do to reverse them. He could fire Marchbanks but there would be backlash. Those seated on the Wizengamot respected the woman too much, each having likely been assessed by her during their own examinations. No, that would not work. He needed another way to ensure Potter knew his place.
There was something in the idea Dolores had put forward, though it would need refining before he made it so. Giving her the power she wanted could certainly be a boon, if only to serve his need of keeping an eye on the boy.
He nodded to himself as he entered his office.
It was a necessity. Potter could not be left unchecked. Already, he was rising to be a threat, had the admiration of many, and if his grades were anything to judge him by, had the tenacity and dedication needed to oppose him in the coming years.
For a fleeting moment, he wished the Dark Lord had been successful in his attempt to murder the boy, but he shook himself of those quickly. He would not relish in the death of a babe, but Potter was that no longer. He was growing to be a man, and one that could cause many more problems in the future if he was not dealt with now.
(Break)
He couldn't help but think that this was a foolish place to hide something so seemingly valuable. The other dangerous objects aside, the room was mostly comprised of junk, veritable mountains of broken furniture and other discarded items that left Harry with a sinking feeling. If this was indeed the room of hidden things, it must have been stumbled upon by many over the centuries.
Just what was Voldemort thinking by hiding a horcrux here?
There were no protections, nothing to prevent anyone happening across his abhorrent creation. The sinking feeling deepened as he pondered that thought.
Perhaps a small part of the Dark Lord was hoping for just that to occur?
A plethora of scenarios played over in his mind, scenarios where the world was plagued with two Voldemort's. He shuddered at the thought and began navigating his way through the labyrinth.
It took several moments of searching before he felt the first prickle of familiar magic prod against his conscience, an unclean and malignant presence that he held at bay as he followed its trace and found himself looking upon a bust of an unnamed warlock. Atop his head sat the very thing he had come for, unassuming and idle, belying the nature of what it held within.
After a cursory check to ensure there were no traps lying in wait, he levitated the diadem and hovered it in front of him, admiring the craftmanship and sheer history of the piece that had been perverted by the whims of an unstable and overly-ambitious fool on his journey towards immortality.
Harry snorted.
Voldemort was not immortal, something he would one day learn.
It would be a shame to rid the world of such an artefact, but it was necessary. He would not risk any other action, his understanding of such magic not enough to consider an alternative. Tom had been adamant; every horcrux needed to be destroyed with basilisk venom or fiendfyre, both of which he had at his disposal, though he was reluctant to use the former. Despite his feeling towards Voldemort, he would not have Serana unwittingly help in ending the life of the one person who had been there for her in recent history.
Shaking his head and conjuring a box to temporarily house the tiara, he placed it inside before shrinking and pocketing it, ignoring the wave of cold, negativity washing over him.
He needed to destroy them and soon. He had carried the locket with him since Kreacher had parted with it and it was beginning to affect him with its constant attempts to over come him, to entice him to place it over his neck.
He had managed to ignore the locket on its own but was not willing to spend his days fending off the negativity of both or even risk succumbing to the parasitic magic. That would not do.
Releasing a deep breath, he removed a piece of parchment from within his robes and used the tip of his wand to cross off the diadem from the list. Looking his own words over, such trivial things did not denote the enormity of the task he had undertaken.
Horcruxes
Locket – Regulus Black – Elf?
Diadem – Room of hidden things, warlock bust (no protections)
Ring – Gaunt Family home, Little Hangelton – Beneath the floorboards, Strong Compulsion and Rotting Curse – Do not touch!
Diary – Given to Lucius Malfoy – Destroyed
Nagini – Snake – Will likely be with Voldemort
Hufflepuff's Cup – Given to Bellatrix Lestrange (Azkaban – Gringotts, Lestrange vault)
The last two gave him pause. If fortune favoured him, he would be able to kill the snake before the inevitable confrontation with Voldemort would happen. He had accepted the latter would occur, long ago the man had proven himself capable of getting to him and would continue his attempts until one of them were dead. Killing the snake before the event was desirable but he would not allow such a small detail to delay destroying Voldemort. Though an inconvenience, the snake posed little threat compared to him being in a human body.
It was the last on the list that caused him concern. It was the one that held many variables and risks. Breaking into to the bank was not a gambit he would pursue unless all other options were exhausted.
He did have a plan, but it was risky at best, though he could think of no other that would be fruitful. It was also perhaps more dangerous than an attempt on the goblins. He was not relishing it, but it was the best he could come up with and one he would have to implement sooner rather than later. If Voldemort were to liberate his followers, it would be almost impossible to get the cup at all.
Such a thought did not sit well with him. It was something he would need to act upon with haste if he was going to do so. He could not be idle for much longer.
Shaking his head of his musings, his eyes glanced to the very last addition to the list, something that meant little to him but could prove to be pivotal to Voldemort.
Prophecy – Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic.
Although he was dismissive of such magic, the Dark Lord wasn't and Tom had urged him to take the initiative on the matter if the opportunity rose and retrieve it at the very least, even if he did not listen or pay heed to the words.
Harry had known of it since his first year, had thought little on it, but as he had grown, he had learnt that it was folly to ignore something, even if it was not something one ascribed to.
Perhaps he should deal with that also, if only to deny Voldemort the knowledge he sought.
He nodded thoughtfully as he took his leave from the room undercover of his cloak and headed towards the second floor. First and foremost, he needed to rid himself of the two horcruxes he had collected and think on his next move.
The ring would be the easiest to retrieve and the one that Voldemort would likely check on should he get the inclination.
Feeling the weight of what he faced settle over him once more, he opened the entrance to the chamber with a hiss and slid into the bowels of the castle to the place he would be comfortable casting the dangerous magic he needed.
With another bout of parseltongue, he opened the final door and entered the chamber of secrets, its cold and damp conditions doing little to lift his spirits.
Without hesitation, keen to be rid of the burden he carried, he removed the boxes containing the horcruxes and placed them on the floor before drawing his wand.
Readying himself, he focused as he took aim.
" Fiendfyre."
A gout of flame erupted from the tip and coalesced into the form of an enormous basilisk. With difficulty, he managed to bring the beast to heel and guide it towards the two boxes, the heat emanating distinctly uncomfortable. However, with a final screech of protest, all that was left of the horcruxes was a pile of ashes that was carried away by a breeze.
Steeling himself once more, he managed to wrestle the accursed flames back under control before they could break free and snuffed them out with a confident flick of his wand.
When he was again all but alone within the room, he wiped away the perspiration that had formed on his brow, and for once, revelled in the damp chill the chamber provided.
" Tom, is that you? What was that noise?" a familiar voice interrupted.
" It's me, Serana. I was just destroying some unpleasant things," Harry replied as he approached the gap where the basilisk had stuck her nose through. "Are you okay? Is there anything you need?"
" I'm fine, Tom, but you haven't been here for some time. I've missed you."
" And I you," Harry returned as he rubbed the scales around her nostrils, the way she enjoyed.
She growled contentedly as she pushed back against his touch.
" Do you like it here? Do you not find it cold?"
" I've grown used to the cold. It has been so long that I felt the heat of the sun."
Her tone was almost longing, as though she was thinking back on a fond memory.
" You haven't always been here, have you?"
" No, I was born in a land far away from here where my master found me. He asked if I could help protect his students, live within a castle and keep them all safe. I was barely a hatchling then and wizards would kill me if I was found. Salazar was nice to me, he brought me here and I have remained since."
" Would you wish to live somewhere warmer, somewhere you could lay in the sun and not fear being attacked?"
" Salazar promised he would take me back, but he left once and never returned. It wasn't until you found me that I met another person. I told you this before, don't you remember?"
" Of course, but it is nice to hear it again," Harry returned smoothly. "I only wondered if it was something you would still like."
" I would like to live outside, but I'm scared, Tom. What if other wizards would find me?"
" I would not let them," Harry said firmly. "I will not be able to come here forever, and I do not want to leave you here if it is not what you want."
" You would like me to go with you?" Serana asked disbelievingly.
" Only if that is your wish," Harry answered, smiling at the neediness of the serpent. "I have a home far away where the sun is always shining. There is a nice river you could drink from and bathe in, and a forest with lots of animals you could eat. Nobody can find my house and you would be safe."
" I would like that, Tom. The cold does not agree with me so much anymore. I am very old now, even for one of my kind. Perhaps I only have a few years left, maybe longer, but I feel myself beginning to fade. I would like to spend my last years in the sun with you."
" Then I will make it happen," Harry whispered. "I will need some time to figure out how to get you there, but I will do it."
Serana hissed gently in response as Harry continued to rub her scales, his woes all but forgotten for the moment as he enjoyed some time with his companion.
(Break)
With summer having come and passed much quicker than she would have liked, she now found herself pondering her future more so. With Harry no longer here to distract her from the inevitable, she could avoid it no longer. Not that she did not welcome such a thing. The responses to her applications had slowly begun to trickle in, but there had been more than she expected, and she was torn on what to do.
It wasn't until this morning that she received a rather unexpected addition to her already growing pile of offers that she felt the right thing had come along.
It was at breakfast that the missive from Madame Alarie, her former charms professor, had arrived, offering her an apprenticeship under her tutelage.
The subject had always been her favourite and one she had excelled in beyond the others. An apprenticeship with the woman would be a boon for any long-term careers she was considering, and she could think of no reason to not accept. Though it would be daunting, it was something she would not refuse.
Whether she decided to become an enchantress or a cursebreaker, a mastery in charms would be the best start for both.
Her parents had been almost as delighted as her, and there was only one other she needed to share the news with, and he too would be pleased.
She smiled sadly at the thought of the boy. She had missed him since he left, even if they did speak every night through the orbs she had gifted him, it wasn't the same. She longed for the evenings they would sit by the pool talking, her head rested against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
Still, she knew not what they were, that was not something they had spoken of, but she cherished whatever it was.
She worried for him being surrounded by so many that would want to harm him, where she could not keep him safe.
She snorted at the thought.
He didn't really need her to protect him, but she was compelled to. It was her nature that made her feel this way, that protective veela side to her that only became more prominent the closer together they grew.
It had been odd, at first, having such feelings for one she did not share blood with, but they were there. If she had her way, he would be with her in the safety of France, not in Britain where his enemies were many and seemingly growing with each day.
She frowned at the thought of the Umbridge woman.
The Ministry should not be something he concerned himself with, and yet, they too had their daggers drawn and ready to sink into his back at the first opportunity.
Yes, she worried for him but more so for any that provoked the side of him he kept well-hidden. As she had her veela side, he too had one more primal, one she had seen emerge the night they had been taken. Perhaps a part of her should fear him and what he had done, but she didn't. Had he not had such a side to him, they would likely have both perished in that graveyard.
To her, he was gentle, caring and attentive. To most he was indifferent and dismissive, but to his enemies, he was ruthless and deadly. More fool anyone who provoked the ire of Harry Potter.
She was pulled from her thoughts as her orb lit up on her bedside table and she snatched it up immediately.
"'Arry," she greeted him warmly.
He returned the gesture, though she noticed how tired he appeared.
"How are you?" he asked.
"I'm okay, I finally know what I'm going to do with myself now."
His eyes lit up at her words.
"What have you decided?"
"I'm going to apprentice under Madame Alarie. She wrote to me today asking if I would like to," she revealed excitedly.
"I'm really pleased for you," he offered sincerely. "You deserve it."
His words warmed her, and she wished for nothing more than to reach out and hold his hand as she had so many times before.
"I miss you," she said quietly, "will you come and see me soon?"
His scratched his chin, apparently thinking carefully about his answer.
"Well, I have to meet with Snape tomorrow afternoon, but I can come after if you like?"
She nodded enthusiastically as he yawned.
"I would like that, but you should be getting more sleep, mister."
He snorted as he waved off her concerns.
"Sorry, I had a long day with Serana and just finished with Flitwick."
"What's it like, working on charms at that level?"
He frowned slightly but smiled, nonetheless.
"It's different, hard, but in a good way. You'll get to see for yourself soon enough. Do you know when you will start?"
"Non, but Madame Alarie will 'ave high expectations. She always does."
"Expectations you will blow out of the water," he returned. "I really am pleased for you," he added seriously. "If anyone can do this, it's you."
"And you," she replied.
"Well, I'm giving it a go," he chuckled before yawning once more.
"You should sleep, 'Arry. You must be working very 'ard doing two apprenticeships."
"It is a lot of work, but I will manage," he assured her. "I'm looking forward to seeing you."
"You're not sick of the sight of me yet?"
"Never," he answered. "I will see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, 'Arry."
With a final smile, he was gone, and she replaced the orb to where it had found a home. Feeling rather tired herself from the excitement of the day, she too decided to turn in, knowing she would sleep easier that Harry would be back with her the next evening.
(Break)
"What are we going to do, Hermione?" Neville asked as they made their way towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom. "We will never pass our OWL with Umbridge teaching us. Well, you will, but the rest of us will fail."
Hermione shook her head.
The woman had been in the castle for less than a week and had taught them nothing they would need to know for their exams. They had even been forbidden from practicing the required spells. Instead, they were instructed to read from a book that was all but useless.
"I don't know," she sighed, a deep frown creasing her brow as she waved at a passing Harry Potter. "Why is he not in our class? I would have thought he would have continued with defence. Why is he not in any of our classes for that matter?"
Not that they had shared many over the years. For reasons unfathomable to her, the Gryffindors and Slytherins shared the core classes for the most part and she had only seen him in runes and arithmancy. Even those he had been absent from since they returned.
"Oh, he's already passed his OWLS," the pudgy blonde replied with a shrug, stilling her.
"He's what?"
"He already did his OWLS, my gran told me," Neville explained as he too paused.
"How?"
Neville shrugged once more.
"Are you really surprised? You saw the things he did in the tournament. Most of that stuff was easily beyond OWL and NEWT level," he pointed out.
"How do you know these things?" Hermione probed.
"It was mentioned in a Wizengamot meeting. My gran sends me all the minutes so I can be prepared for when I take up my family seat in a couple of years."
"Why would Harry be mentioned in a Wizengamot meeting?"
"I forget that you're a muggleborn sometimes," Neville muttered sheepishly. "He was put on trial for underage magic during the summer. From what my gran said, he upset quite a few people including our newest professor. He was, erm, quite rude."
"Quite rude?"
Neville released a deep sigh before grinning.
"He apparently called Umbridge a nosy old cow and said something about her talking out of turn. I don't remember exactly what he said."
Hermione giggled despite herself. She would have quite liked to see Umbridge's reaction to that.
"Anyway, he got away with whatever it was and made the Minister look like an idiot. Fudge has it out for him now."
"He should be careful," Hermione replied, worrying her lower lip. "That doesn't explain what he's doing here if he has finished his OWLS. Has he been moved up a year?"
"I don't think so," Neville answered uncertainly. "My gran didn't mention anything else. Anyway, we will be late if we don't get moving. It's bad enough being in her lessons, I don't fancy a detention with her."
Hermione nodded and they continued on their way, her mind wandering to the conversation she shared with Professor McGonagall the previous year.
" In all my years of teaching, I have never taught a student with such a gift for transfiguration…"
Undoubtedly, that talent transferred to other branches of magic also.
"That will be five points each from Gryffindor for being late," Umbridge announced as they entered the classroom. "Now, take your seats and turn to page twenty-three of your books. We are reading in silence today."
Hermione merely shook her head, having expected nothing less.
(Break)
The tension he had been carrying since he had left had lifted when he arrived back in France. In all, he had spent little time here but had never felt this relaxed when he was England.
Perhaps it was because he never felt he could. His years with the Dursleys had been turbulent at best, and those at Hogwarts nothing short of perilous. Here, he needn't think of any of that and did not have to look upon every person he met with at least a modicum of suspicion or questioning of their motives. His only concern here seemed only to be what he decided to concern himself with. It was an odd thought, but one he welcomed.
Of course, he would have to go back. The burden that was Voldemort sat heavy on his shoulders, but it felt lighter here, as though he was so far away from any of the problems that waited for him back in Britain. Maybe it was being in another country or the people he was with. Regardless, it mattered not.
Here he felt free, happy even.
"'Ow 'as your first week back been, 'Arry?" Apolline asked as she spooned a healthy portion of thick soup into his bowl.
"It hasn't been much different. Everyone seems to be ignoring everything that's happening outside the castle."
The woman pursed her lips as she shook her head.
"It will not last," Sebastien interjected. "I was going to write to you, but as you are 'ere, I can tell you in person."
"Tell me what?" Harry asked with a frown.
Sebastien released a deep sigh.
"There may not be much 'appening in Britain, but in other countries, it is different. At the ICW meeting today, the representative of Romania made us aware that the werewolf population 'as moved on, 'eading west. Subsequently, the representatives of 'Ungary, Austria and Switzerland 'ave noted an increase in werewolf activity. I do not think it will be long before they arrive 'ere and then make their way to Britain."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. The werewolves had sided with Voldemort during the last war, it made sense they would do so again.
"So, he has them and the giants?"
"It would appear so," Sebastien agreed, "and others will follow before the war truly begins."
Apolline, Fleur and Gabrielle looked at him worriedly as he nodded stiffly and took a mouthful of his food.
"And Fudge is doing nothing," he muttered when he had swallowed it.
"There is only so much the ICW can do. Unless the conflict spills beyond the borders of Britain, they cannot be involved without British cooperation."
"You mean they won't involve themselves," Harry corrected.
Sebastien nodded.
"They do not wish to send their sons and daughters to die in a war not their own, 'Arry…"
"A war that will come to them eventually. They cannot avoid it if Voldemort is successful."
"Non, they cannot, but they will try," Sebastien returned apologetically. "You must remember, 'Arry, no one wants to admit that another threat like Grindelwald exists. 'E tore through Europe mostly unchallenged. It was not until Britain and France stood together to oppose 'im that 'e was defeated. It would not 'ave 'appened until much later if Albus did not confront 'im when 'e did."
"And now Dumbledore is the one saying there is a threat and it is being ignored," Harry snorted. "People really are idiots."
"People are scared, 'Arry," Apolline broke in. "Not everyone can be as brave as you."
"I don't have the luxury of ignoring it," he returned. "It is me that he is coming for. I can either sit back and wait for him to find me or I can take the fight to him. I won't wait for him to kill me on his terms."
"And that is the difference between you and others, 'Arry," Sebastien said softly. "You are a fighter where most are not. You will confront those that threaten you, where most would 'ide."
"It's not about that," Harry denied. "I don't want to hide. Maybe I should fear him, but I do not. I want to face him, and I want to be the one that puts an end to him. I owe that to my parents, and I owe it to…myself," he finished, catching himself before he slipped.
An awkward silence fell over those at the table.
Apolline stared at him sadly as Fleur, having heard similar words spoken by him, reluctantly nodded her acceptance. Gabrielle understood little of what was being said, but she watched intently, her rambunctious nature curbed by the severity of the conversation.
"I did not know them, 'Arry, but if my child was in your situation, I would only want them to live by whatever means necessary," Sebastien all but whispered. "If you chose to, you could stay 'ere where you are safe."
"And watch the world burn around me?"
Sebastien shook his head and snorted.
"Do not pretend it is the world you care for. You are doing what you are for your own reasons and they do not revolve around any other," Sebastien returned, somewhat heatedly but took a deep breath before continuing. "I understand, 'Arry. I cannot understand what you 'ave gone through but I do know you are not a fool. You would not risk your life this way without cause. The only thing I will say is that you 'ave to live with the choices you make. Can you do that?"
All the plans he had yet to carry out played over in his mind, the actions he would take, all to see Voldemort perish by his hand. He nodded.
"I can because I have to."
Sebastien nodded his acceptance, only to be caught off guard by the next words of the boy.
"What do you make of prophecies?"
Sebastien frowned deeply.
"Prophecies?"
"Apparently, there is one about me and him. I've not heard all of it. I don't understand divination but it's the reason he came for me when I was a baby."
Sebastien leaned back in his chair. He was not a firm believer in such an imperfect branch of magic but believed it had its purpose, even if he did not nor ever would understand it.
"I 'ave seen no evidence of prophecies at work, 'Arry. It is something that is beyond me, but if I was you, I would want to know what it says and who made it, if only for assurance. You do not want it to say something along the lines of; Voldemort will be triumphant over all 'is foes. It is best to explore every variable."
Harry nodded. He had already decided he would retrieve it; he was merely interested in the man's take.
"I will say that you should not be dismissive of it. There is much magic that we cannot 'ope to understand and divination is one of those unless one 'as a gift for it," Sebastien added.
"I thought as much," Harry replied.
"There is a prophecy about you and 'im?" Fleur broke in.
"Something about me being the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, born as the seventh month dies and he would mark me as his equal," Harry revealed as he thought on the words Tom had spoken to him some years past.
"That is rather ominous," Sebastien sighed. "Whether you believe in it or not, 'e does, so much so that 'e tried to murder a baby for it. 'Ow much of it is true?"
"Well, I was born on the last day of July and he did mark me," Harry answered, indicating his faded scar."
"What 'appened to your scar? It is not as prominent as it was," Fleur pointed out.
"It faded after the graveyard," he replied dismissively. "I should probably prioritise hearing the rest of it."
"I think you should," Sebastien agreed. "Do you know where they are kept?"
"The Department of Mysteries, apparently."
"Ahh, I 'ave 'eard stories about it. It, of course, does not officially exist which only adds to the mystery, I suppose."
"'Ow do you go somewhere that does not exist?" Gabrielle asked.
"I do not know 'ow you would go about it," Sebastien said thoughtfully. "You would need to speak to someone who knows where to find it. I would say Albus would."
"There's a problem with that," Harry huffed. "The prophecy was made to him and he doesn't know that I know about it."
"Why would 'e not tell you?"
Harry shrugged.
"He probably does not want to burden me with it."
"Then 'ow do you know about it if 'e did not tell you?"
"Voldemort told me about it when I was eleven. He tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone and thought he could use me to get it."
"The Philosopher's Stone? The one that Nicholas Flamel created?"
Harry nodded.
"I don't know of any other."
Sebastien released a deep, laboured breath as he looked at the boy.
"Forgetting the stone for a moment, that is a story for another time, what did Voldemort say to you?"
"Well, before he tried to kill me, he mentioned the prophecy and said that I needed to die. That's it really."
Sebastien hummed.
"You need to 'ear it, 'Arry. You do not want to go into a fight with 'im without knowing. It could be a mistake."
"Can we please stop talking about it now?" Fleur pleaded, evidently becoming very upset by the conversation. "I do not want to 'ear any more about it. It is 'ard enough already."
With that, she took her leave from the table, followed by Apolline who went to comfort her daughter.
"It is 'ard for 'er, 'Arry. She feels that she is 'ere, waiting for the news to come that you 'ave been killed. She worries about you."
Harry nodded as he stood, a feeling of guilt washing over him.
"I know. This was why I tried to keep her away from it all."
Sebastien offered him a sad smile.
"It is a little late for that now, non?"
"For both of us," Harry replied before he left the kitchen to find the girl.
It was next to the pool where he came upon them. At his approach, Apolline stood and simply nodded before giving them their privacy. He took a seat next to Fleur as she stared at the surface of the water.
"I'm sorry, 'Arry," she said quietly. "I know you feel that you 'ave to do this, I just thought there might be even a small chance I could talk you out of it."
"There's a part of me that wish you could," he replied honestly. "If I could walk away from this and never see him again, I would, but there's not a life I can imagine where I could accept it. It's almost as though magic is drawing us together and it can only end with one of us dead. I refuse for that to be me."
"But what if it is, 'Arry? Can you promise me that it won't be?"
He shook his head.
"You know I can't promise that, but I do not plan on meeting him as his equal. I will be better than him. I already have advantages that he never will."
"What does that even mean?"
He deflated as he took her hands in his own and turned her gently towards him.
"As crazy as this will sound, I know him, Fleur, better than anyone else, probably better than he now knows himself."
"What does that even mean, 'Arry? I don't understand," she responded with a shake of her head.
He stared at her for a few moments, seemingly struggling with an internal conflict before he huffed.
"There are things that I haven't told anyone, things that no one would understand. You'll probably think I'm mental if I told you…"
"I would never think that about you, 'Arry," she sighed. "I see it. When you think no one is looking, you are sad, angry, even more than before we were taken to the graveyard. Your eyes tell everything about you, 'Arry Potter and it 'urts to see you ''urt the way you do. I wish I could take it all away because I don't like seeing you sad."
He nodded as he offered her a grateful smile.
"There are things I want to tell you. I just don't know how."
"Sometimes it is better to just say them."
He took a deep breath to compose himself and drew his wand. Waving it in an intricate pattern about them, he finished his spell work with a hiss and a green dome formed around them.
"I don't want us to be overheard. I don't want anyone else knowing this."
Fleur nodded nervously as she admired the bubble around them.
"Voldemort took steps to ensure that it would be almost impossible to kill him," Harry began, immediately having her undivided attention.
"What steps?"
"It doesn't matter. Honestly, the less you know about exactly what he has done, the better, but he has done some unpleasant things and created items that contain pieces of his soul. So long as they exist, he can be brought back to life numerous times."
" Merde," Fleur cursed as the realisation of what Harry was saying sunk in. "'Ow can you beat 'im if 'e will keep coming back."
"Because I know where they all are," he answered simply.
"You know where they are?" Fleur asked disbelievingly. "And 'ow would you know that?"
"Because he told me," Harry replied, his eyes full of the sadness she had often seen within him, though now he was doing nothing to try to conceal it.
The emotion she could see was raw. Sat before her was one who had faced and overcome more adversity in his short life than most would face throughout a full one. Still, he fought on, refusing to bow to those that would have him so. Here and now, she could feel his vulnerability could feel his inner turmoil.
She squeezed his hand, no closer to understanding what he meant, but she wanted to comfort him.
"Why would 'e tell you, 'Arry? To mock you?"
Harry shook his head.
"He didn't tell me, well, he did, but it's complicated," he huffed as he stood suddenly, dragging a hand through his hair from frustration.
"It's okay," Fleur assured him.
"No, it isn't," he countered. "The more I think about it, the crazier it makes me seem. I know that it happened, I know the life I've lived but it just so surreal."
"Then why don't you start from the beginning?"
"I don't think starting there will help," Harry sighed. "Would you come with me? There's something I should show you. Maybe it will help you understand."
Fleur nodded.
"Where are we going?"
"To my house," he answered as he offered her his hand.
She accepted it and the feeling of the portkey hooking through her navel unsettled her considerably. It always would, ever since the night of the third task, it did nothing but trigger unpleasant memories. Nonetheless, when she found her feet on solid ground once more, she looked up to be greeted by a villa, the grounds around them well-kept and property surrounded by mountains and trees.
"It is beautiful 'ere," she whispered.
Harry nodded as he looked upon the house fondly. It was peaceful and had grown on him in the small amount of time he had owned it.
"I like it, but it's not the house we are here to see, not tonight anyway."
"Then why are we 'ere?"
"It's just a short walk away," he replied cryptically as he led her towards the thick copse of trees at the end of the garden.
She followed his lead, the two of them silent as they entered the forest amongst the sounds of crickets and the dim glow of fireflies in the distance. She said nothing as he seemingly followed a familiar route and it wasn't until they came upon the sound of gently running water that his steps slowed, almost as though he was having second thoughts about being here.
"This is it," he all but whispered as they came into a clearing where the sweet smell of apples was prominent.
Her gaze followed his own and she found herself looking at what appeared to be a grave. The date of death was one she would never forget, a day forever cemented in her mind as the one she almost lost Harry.
"Who is Tom Riddle?" she asked.
Harry released a deep breath.
"Tom Riddle is the name Voldemort was given at birth," he answered.
Fleur's eyes widened at the revelation, but he held up a hand to cease any questions.
"Do you remember when I said he had created things to keep pieces of his soul in?"
Fleur nodded.
"The night he killed my parents and tried to do the same to me, a piece of his soul was left inside me," he explained, pointing to his faded scar. "He didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. I was seven when he first spoke to me."
"'E spoke to you?"
Harry swallowed.
"You already know that my childhood was not a happy one. My relatives despised me because of what I am. They took every chance they could to make me miserable," he said bitterly. "The day I apparated onto my school roof, my uncle was furious. He had hit me before but never the way he did that day. When he was done, I had passed out and woke up in my cupboard. I could barely move from the pain and I finally broke. I begged and I pleaded for someone to come and rescue me, just for someone to care and he spoke to me," he finished with a smile, his eyes full of unshed tears.
Fleur was experiencing a myriad of emotions whilst he spoke so candidly about what he had endured. She was angry, devastated and trembled with both. Somewhere amongst them, she was still confused, though that was not at the forefront of her mind. She could only focus on the horror that had been his life.
"Perhaps I was stupid to listen to a voice in my head, but he was the only one who had ever tried to be there for me. As a seven-year-old kid who had nothing to lose, he was everything I needed."
"You didn't know it was 'im, did you?"
Harry shook his head.
"I didn't find that out until I was twelve. Anyway, he told me his name was Tom and that he could help me."
"And he did?"
Harry nodded.
"More than I could ever repay him for," he said fondly. "He told me that I was a wizard, showed me how I could stop my relatives hurting me and spent the next four years teaching me all he could about magic and the Wizarding world."
"But if 'e was Voldemort, why would 'e 'elp you?"
"I suppose the piece of soul I got was the final vestige of humanity Voldemort had left," Harry answered uncertainly. "Tom explained to me all the things he had done in the pursuit of immortality and how Voldemort was born. It's complicated and I won't pretend to understand it all, but there was a point when a brilliant Tom Riddle went too far, and he became what he is now."
"So, they are two different people?"
"In a strange way, they are completely separate," Harry mused aloud. "Voldemort is the worst part of an abused boy manifested; The anger, the ambition and ruthlessness he had needed to survive his own horrific childhood. Tom was a brilliant and even compassionate boy who lost his way without the needed guidance. He tread a dangerous path and paid the price, the magicks he delved into ones he could not hope to comprehend the effects of. He never intended to become Voldemort, but it happened before he could stop it. His obsession was too strong and the more he delved, the harder it was to undo. Now, we have potentially the worst Dark Lord in history."
Fleur was silent for a few moments as Harry stared at the grave. Were it anyone else saying these things, she would not believe it, so outrageous was what he had described.
"So, 'e is not there anymore?"
Harry shook his head.
"The night in the graveyard. When I was hit with the curse, it removed the piece of soul from me. I don't expect you to understand," he sighed as he turned towards her, "but he was the one person there for me, the one person that kept me safe. He taught me all he could whilst he was here and gave me all I needed so I can live through this."
Fleur could only nod. She did not understand much of what he had said, but she could see how much it meant to him and that's all that mattered to her in this moment. Whatever Tom had been or done, he had protected Harry, had cared for a lonely, abused orphan boy when no one else had cared to.
"I had to do it," he whispered, gesturing towards the grave. "No one else will mourn him but I will. I will always be grateful for what he did for me, as messed up as that sounds."
"Non, 'Arry, it is not messed up," she denied. "'E was there for you and I am grateful that 'e was."
It would take her some time to come to terms with what she had learnt, but she had spoken truthfully. She was grateful for Tom Riddle, for what he had done for the boy stood next to her.
She took his hand in her own and squeezed it gently, allowing him his moment of thought as he once more looked at the monument he had created.
"May he find the peace and love that life never granted," she muttered.
"It's fitting," Harry replied. "If someone cared for him the way he did me, we never would have had Voldemort."
"'E really looked after you, oui?"
"He did. He only ever wanted me to be live through this and be happy," he replied, the man's final wish for him replaying in his mind.
"But you are not," Fleur pointed out sadly. "What will make you 'appy, 'Arry?"
He frowned for a moment before a smile tugged at his lips.
"I've not had much happiness in my life, and it took me a long time to know what it felt like. Escaping my relatives helped but the happiest I've been was the night of the yule ball, I just didn't know it at the time, not until Tom made me realise what it was I felt."
Fleur was taken aback by his answer. Still, they had not discussed that night and she had all but given up hope they would.
"Is us dancing next to the lake your 'appiest memory?"
"Not just that," Harry denied with a shake of his head. "It was the whole experience of being with someone that wanted to be there with me, that made me feel as though I was wanted in some way. I'd never had that before. It was being there with you," he finished quietly.
Her chest tightened at his words. She could not understand why none would want him in their life. To her, Harry Potter was the most incredible person she had met, and after tonight, she only felt it more so.
"But you said you didn't know what 'appiness was before then? How do you know it is me that made you 'appy?"
She suddenly felt vulnerable. What if he had gotten it wrong? What if it wasn't her that had made him happy but just having someone for the first time that had elicited that feeling within him?
"Because you still do," he answered warmly, as he drew his wand and stared at it for a moment. "Because I can do this, and it is the memory of that night that made it happen. It's you that made it happen. Expecto Patronum," he whispered.
The entire grove was lit by the bright light of the spell and Fleur was in awe at the ethereal creature that emerged from the tip of his wand. The human-like body was covered in white feathers, but it was when she was all but face to face with it that she noted the familiarity. It was as though she was staring in the mirror, the visage of the patronus so alike her own. Unwittingly, she reached out, the radiating warmth almost burningly hot to the touch.
The creature met her hand with its own and smiled before fading before her eyes.
"I might not have much experience of being happy, but I think that says everything I can't," Harry mumbled, his voice breaking into her thoughts.
Fleur turned to face him, his eyes reflecting the same vulnerability she had felt only a moment ago.
"That was me," she said dumbly.
Harry nodded.
She knew not what to say. With only a single gesture, any vulnerability she had felt had faded with the patronus. Words could do little and she simply threw herself into his arms, enjoying his embrace all the more knowing he felt for her deeper than she could have ever hoped.
Whatever was to come, it mattered not. All she cared for in this moment was being where she was and for the moment itself. Things may not always be easy, but she would always have this.
They would always have this.