The Fugitive
A/N
No pomp nor circumstance; let us proceed.
TBR
This Chapter is Dedicated to Hypatius, a Loyal Follower of Mine x
The atmosphere around the dinner table at the Delacour home was unusually tense. Evidently, Fleur had not told her her parents of her intentions to take up a position at Hogwarts and neither were pleased by her choice. To them, she had not thought the idea through and had spent the previous days attempting to talk her out of it.
As Harry expected when he learned of this, they had been unsuccessful. The girl was stubborn and even the pleading of her parents could not change her mind. As such, she would be beginning her placement on the approaching Monday morning, as planned.
They were merely worried for her, as was he, but he knew any effort on his or their part to get her to reconsider would fall on deaf ears.
"Could you pass me the salt please, 'Arry?" Apolline asked, pointedly ignoring the fact that it was closer to her daughter.
With the shaker out of his reach, he wandlessly summoned it and handed it to the woman, his attention returning immediately to his own meal. He did not want to be caught in the middle of whatever was happening.
Although he was unhappy with her decision, Sebastien seemed to be the one taking it better out of the two and was trying to mediate the situation, though his efforts were falling short. The veela were too alike and it would likely only get worse before it got better.
Thankfully, Gabrielle had gone to spend the weekend with her grandmother so she could avoid the fallout. Harry suspected this had been done intentionally, and by the stormy expressions that both Fleur and Apolline wore, it was for the best.
" You cannot ignore me forever, Maman," Fleur huffed. "I thought you would be happy for me."
Apolline's eyes narrowed at her daughter and Sebastien stood quickly.
"Come, 'Arry. Let us give them some privacy."
Harry followed the man, confused, though that cleared as the door closed behind them. The two had begun shouting at each other in French, neither being able to be heard above the other.
"Shouldn't we…"
"Non," Sebastien cut in and gestured for Harry to continue following him away from the raised voices. "You do not want to get in between two veela when they are like that. I made that mistake once with Apolline and 'er mother. I won't do it again."
"Is it that bad?"
Sebastien nodded.
"Veela are passionate creatures, in everything. When they love, they do so with all they 'ave, and when they fight, it is no different. You 'ave much to learn about them 'Arry, though I imagine you already are, non?"
"What do you mean?" Harry returned with a frown.
"I am not a fool, 'Arry. I see what is 'appening between the two of you and I am 'appy for you both. I could not think of someone better for 'er but life with a veela is not easy sometimes. As 'er father, I will always worry about 'er and the best I can 'ope for is a man that cares for her as much as I do, a man that understands what she is and what comes with that."
"I do," Harry defended.
"Non, 'Arry, you don't. Not yet, at least," Sebastien denied, not unkindly. "It took me many years to understand Apolline, 'er moods, 'er passion and that other side to 'er. It is not something that can be ignored. You must love every part of them, even that untameable creature that is within them."
"Even if it tries to scorch you with molten fire?"
Sebastien snorted before nodding.
"Even then," he confirmed. "It is part of them. Just as we breathe, the avian side of the veela must be free and you must accept 'er for what she is, 'Arry. If you can do that, you will 'ave a very 'appy life. If you cannot, she will eventually crumble by trying to be something she is not."
"That is the last thing I want."
"I know, 'Arry, and I trust that you would not allow such a thing to 'appen. I just needed to tell you."
The teen nodded his understanding.
Perhaps there was more to veela than he understood. It was something he would have to discuss with Fleur, though he would not be doing so any time soon judging by the screeching still ensuing in the kitchen.
"Merlin they can go on," he muttered, eliciting a chuckle from the man.
"They can, but Fleur will win. No matter 'ow upset Apolline is, she will swallow 'er pride before our daughter. She is just as stubborn as Aline."
"They're too alike."
"Oui, but they will be fine, and Fleur will get 'er way," Sebastien sighed. "I know that I do not need to ask you, but I will rest easier if I do. Please, look after 'er when she is there, 'Arry. Protect 'er as I know you will."
"With my life," Harry vowed.
Sebastien shook his head.
"I 'ave no doubt you will, I just 'ope it does not come to that."
(Break)
They stared at one another from opposing ends of the table, breathing heavily, their palms flat on the wood. They had shouted themselves hoarse, neither hearing the words of the other as they had vented their frustrations.
" Why are you so angry, Maman?" Fleur growled.
" I am not angry, Fleur, I am scared!" Apolline choked.
Her own anger abated as the worry her mother felt became evident. Her arms trembled and her eyes filled with tears as she looked upon her daughter. The woman shook her head.
" We already almost lost you, my little flower. Your papa and I could not cope if that happened."
Fleur deflated. Her mother was an emotional woman at the best of times, as was her way, but it had been many years since she had seen her so upset. It was not something she wanted, it was the last thing she wanted in this moment and she closed the distance between them and pulled her into her arms.
" You won't lose me, Maman…"
" You cannot promise me that!"
" Non, but I am not a child anymore. Wouldn't you have done the same for papa?"
Apolline gave a humourless, watery chuckle.
" That is what worries me. I know how you feel about him, Fleur," she sighed. "I do not want to lose you to what is happening over there."
" You will not! 'Arry would not let anyone hurt me."
" Non, he would not, but 'Arry cannot be there all the time. He is only human, Fleur."
Fleur shook her head.
" Non, Maman, he is more than that. I have seen him do things that you would not believe, and he will come out of this on the other side."
" But at what cost, my little flower? What will it take for this to be over?"
" Only him, Maman. 'Arry will win and then I will finally be able to get him away from that horrible place to somewhere he can be happy."
" With you?" Apolline asked.
" Of course," Fleur answered. "Where else would he be?"
" Does he know about your plans?"
Fleur shrugged as she offered her mother a sad smile.
" Non, but I love him, Maman. He has not said it, but I know he feels the same way. There is no one that could ever understand him like me."
Apolline shook her head.
" I said something very similar to my own mother about your father."
" And you are still happily married," Fleur pointed out.
Apolline released a deep breath.
" But not all stories have the same ending, Fleur. So many things could go wrong and I do not want to see you hurt, or 'Arry. I have grown very fond of him too."
" Then let me do this! Let me look after him the same way he does me."
Apolline knew that she would be unable to change her daughter's mind, not when she had already seemingly decided and made plans for a future that may never come to pass, but if anyone deserved it, it was the two of them. Looking in her eyes, she could not deny her the blessing she sought, though it did not sit well with her. As a mother, she was terrified, but as one of very few who could understand the way of the girl before her, she accepted such.
" You will come home every evening when you are finished and your father will drop you off in the morning where 'Arry will meet you at the gate, oui?"
Fleur nodded her agreement.
" If that will make you feel better."
" Nothing will make me feel better until that monster is gone, my little flower. I want you both away from there and safe. You are too stubborn for your own good, yourself and 'Arry."
" I get it from you."
" You get it from your grandmother," Apolline corrected.
Fleur giggled.
" Would it be so bad if I was like her?"
Apolline shook her head.
" Non, it would not but I think we should go and find 'Arry. I cannot imagine what he thinks of us screaming at each other like that."
" He will probably make a joke about birds," Fleur huffed.
" Non, your father will beat him to it," Apolline sighed. "Come, let us see where they have gotten to."
They left the kitchen and headed towards Sebastien's study; his usual retreat when there was a disagreement to be aired out but found that they were not there.
" Maybe they are by the pool," Fleur suggested.
Apolline nodded and they made their way to the opposite side of the house. Again, the pair were nowhere to be seen when they arrived and the younger veela was perplexed as to where they could have gone.
" Would they have gone to the…"
Her question was cut off by a form zooming past them, so close that they could feel the wind from the tail-end of the broom. Both yelped and Apolline growled.
" Oh, I am going to kill him!"
Steadying herself from the shock, Fleur looked up to see her father waving at them from above, a mischievous grin firmly in place.
" Sebastien, you silly man," her mother chastised.
Another shriek escaped the duo as a second blur whizzed past them, cutting off any further chiding the woman had for her husband. They could only watch as the blur that was Harry took to a height that would make even the most competent flyers nervous and nose-dive towards the ground.
" He is going to crash!" Fleur cried, choking with relief as he pulled up at the last second. "YOU STUPID IDIOT!"
Harry merely offered her a chuckle as she stalked towards him.
"I've been doing that since I was eleven," he defended.
Fleur shook her head at him.
"You must 'ave a death wish. You almost gave me an 'eart attack."
" You almost gave me one too, you silly boy, and I do not know why you are laughing, Sebastien Delacour," Apolline added, turning her ire towards her husband. "I will not suffer you complaining of a bad back for the next week because you decided to act the fool."
The man's grin did not waver as he placed a kiss on his wife's cheek.
"I was just showing 'Arry a thing or two, well, I thought I was," he finished with a frown. "I see that the 'ens 'ave finally stopped pecking at each other, non?"
Apolline huffed as she shot her daughter a knowing look.
"We 'ave come to an agreement, not that I am 'appy about it," she replied.
"Ah, my sweet, you knew you were not going to win this one," Sebastien sighed.
"Non, but I had to try. I only agreed because you will be taking 'er every morning to the gate and 'Arry will make sure she gets 'ome, oui?"
Harry nodded.
"I will bring her back," he agreed.
"Good, now, who wants to 'ave a race?" Sebastien asked, gesturing to the broom he still carried.
Apolline shook her head amusedly.
"When will you grow up, Sebastien?"
(Break)
Sirius sat amongst the rest of the order members as they chatted, his frustration with how little progress was being made growing. He had never been a patient person, but it seemed that the group had been much more idle this time around. There was something of a lack of urgency from Dumbledore, and though little had happened to spur such, the sedate pace in which they were operating against the dark lord and his followers felt wrong to him.
He shook his head, missing the calming words of his werewolf friend. Remus would know what to say to curb his more impulsive desires. The man was still somewhere on the continent. Where? Sirius did not know. It had been several weeks since he had heard from him.
Perhaps it was merely his impatience beginning to get the better of him or that the life of his godson could be in imminent danger in any given moment and their inaction may very well contribute to that, but it was irking more lately.
The thoughts of the boy brought a smile to his lips. Harry was not what he had expected him to be. He didn't truly know what his expectations once were, but they had been far from the godson he had met some eighteen months ago. Harry was fierce, determined and aloof even. There may be little of James and Lily in his personality, but they would be proud of how he had turned out, despite all he had endured.
His fingers twitched towards his wand and he fought the urge to seek out and curse the muggles for what they had done. The arrival of Dumbledore made that easier, his tired visage serving as a distraction.
He took a seat at the head of the table and the room fell silent as he offered them a nod of greeting.
"Before I begin, are there any new developments that need to be shared with the group?" he asked, looking mostly towards the aurors and those that frequented the Ministry; another, unexpected problem they had to navigate for the time being.
"We are dealing with more attacks on muggles and black-market dealings than usual," Kingsley informed them. "Hate crime cases are also on the rise with conflict between purebloods and others increasing. We are slowly becoming rushed off our feet and unable to cope with the incidents."
"Has Cornelius been made aware of this?" Dumbledore question with a frown.
"Amelia is meeting with him weekly, but he is as dismissive of it as you would expect. He stands firm in his belief that nothing is amiss. He will not budge until he sees something for himself."
Dumbledore nodded gratefully, though he was unhappy with the news.
"What of those on guard duty? Is there anything to report?"
"It is as quiet as ever, Albus," Arthur Weasley answered. "We do not see anyone enter or leave when we are there."
Sirius did not believe the ominous door they took shifts in guarding was bereft of anyone else watching it. On more than one occasion when he had been there, he got the overwhelming sense that he was not alone and had even heard odd sounds within the corridor. Upon further investigation, there had been nothing, but he knew what he had heard. His hearing was much better than any other here after all.
"And finally, Severus, do you have anything to report?"
The sallow-skinned man nodded as he leaned forward in his chair, he too appearing more tired than usual.
"The Dark Lord is planning something. What that is, he has made none aware of and I don't expect he will until necessary. He spends much of his time in seclusion and does not meet with us all often," he explained. "Lucius on the other hand is not himself. He questioned me about Potter and wanted my thoughts on the boy. He received quite an interesting letter from Draco that has him concerned."
"Do you know the contents?"
Snape nodded slowly.
"According to Draco, Potter has threatened to kill him, Lucius and Narcissa, a repeat of the threat he made to him the night of the third task. Lucius believes the threat to be genuine as does the Dark Lord."
"That is concerning," Dumbledore mused aloud.
Sirius snorted.
"Harry would be doing us a favour. If he's anything like his father, the little shit deserves it."
"Sirius, we cannot judge Draco by the deeds of Lucius. There is still hope for him yet," Dumbledore chided. "What concerns me most is Harry carrying out these threats. Minerva, you have spent more time with him than most. What are your thoughts?"
The woman did not seemingly like being put on the spot if the deep frown she wore was anything to go by, but she nodded thoughtfully.
"I cannot say for certain. From what I have seen of Potter, he lacks subtlety, but I would not dismiss it out of hand. I have no doubt that if he felt it necessary, he likely would."
"Aye," Moody interjected. "What are you doing about the boy? Have you done anything to keep him in line?"
"What would you have me do, Alastor?" Dumbledore returned.
"Take him under your wing, train him, bloody teach him something. You've spent most of his life ignoring him and you only have yourself to blame for how he has turned out," the man growled. "I've met killers, Albus, and Potter has all the traits of one."
"Harry is not a killer," Sirius denied hotly. "He did what he did to survive that night and you make him out as though he is one of them!"
Moody's magical eye fixed on him as he shook his head.
"I did nothing of the sort. I only pointed out that he is capable of it. In my eye, he will need to be to survive. I know Voldemort, have fought against him and if you don't have the guts to end a life with whatever you have at your disposal, you will not live long after he decides he wants you dead. Potter is lucky that he has made it this far, but we must keep him in check, Black. We need him on side."
"He is on our side!"
"No, he is on his own side," Moody corrected. "What reason have we given him to trust us? To someone like Potter, trust is everything and from what I've seen, there's only two of you here who has done that," he finished, nodding towards Minerva and Sirius. "So, no, he is not on our side. Have none of you thought that bringing him into the fold would help us as much as it would him? Merlin knows what he is thinking or doing without us knowing. Bloody hell, we don't even know where he lives when he is away from the castle."
Dumbledore sighed as he nodded his agreement.
"Perhaps you are right, my friend," he offered. "I could have spent more time with him. The day will come when he needs to be made aware of what it is he is up against," he added cryptically.
Although he respected him greatly, Sirius despised the secretive nature of the man. It was secrets that had gotten so many killed during the last war, Harry's parents included and there were already too many for his liking.
Dumbledore kept too much to himself, even what was behind the door they were guarding. He had merely explained that it was a weapon that Voldemort could put to use, but nothing more.
He remained silent as the rest of the meeting passed and the order members left his home, offering only farewells as he pondered how very different the war was than he had expected.
It was clear to him that Voldemort was using the ignorance of the Ministry to carry out his preparations in the shadows, a thought that did little to assuage his worries. The longer he had to prepare, the greater the fallout would be and there seemed to be little happening to prevent that.
(Break)
It was a surreal experience being in the classroom on the other side and one he felt ill-prepared for. The first-year mix of Gryffindor and Slytherin students gawped at him as though he were an attraction in a side-show until Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, garnering their attention.
For the foreseeable future, your lessons will be taught by Mr Potter," she informed them. "You will afford him the same respect as you do myself," she added above the excited whispering that had ensued.
A nod from the woman was the only warning he got that she expected him to take the lead. He followed her own by clearing his throat and waiting for them to fall silent. They did so and paid rapt attention to him, though it was taken away almost immediately by the door opening.
Dolores Umbridge all but strutted into the room and took a seat at the back. Staring at him intently, she removed a quill and a clipboard an began writing notes as the students eyed her warily.
Harry merely glared at the woman for a moment, aware of what it was she was trying to achieve. His, however, could not be matched by the one the deputy headmistress was giving her colleague. If looks could truly kill, Umbridge would be nothing more than a cold husk. Unwilling to let her get the better of him in any way, Harry cleared his throat once more.
"Professor McGonagall has informed me that you have all now managed to transfigure your matchsticks into needles," he began. "Today, you will be applying the same spell just on a slightly bigger scale. There is nothing additional you need to know about the theory, but before you begin, are there any questions?"
A nervous Gryffindor girl raised her hand and Harry gestured for her to speak.
"Do we call you Professor?" she asked.
"You certainly do not!" Umbridge snapped angrily. "Potter is not a Professor."
Harry shot the woman a look of irritation.
"I would rather you did not interrupt my class," he returned firmly, "and in answer to your question, Professor Umbridge is right. I am not a Professor and would rather you did not refer to me as one. From what I have seen, the title has been significantly devalued recently."
The children did not understand the jab, but it was not missed by the woman who began scratching away frantically with her quill. Harry ignored her in favour of continuing with his lesson.
"You can all just call me Harry," he said to them. "If there aren't any other questions, I will be coming around and working with you and I'm sure both Professor McGonagall and Madame Umbridge will be happy to help should you need it."
Umbridge appeared as though a rather unpleasant smell had made itself known to her as her nose wrinkled in distaste. Again, Harry paid her no mind as he circulated around the room, watching the form of the students as they attempted to turn a wooden skewer into a metal one with little success.
"This is harder," the same Gryffindor girl that had questioned him huffed loudly.
He approached the row of desks she was seated on with a light frown. It was not such a difficult task, though he had always found transfiguration to be simple. He knew, however, that many struggled with the branch. As such, he stood in front of the girl and watched as her face scrunched up with the effort of concentration. As she muttered the incantation, the skewer glinted but remained as wooden as it had been.
The girl sighed and looked at him pleadingly, reminiscent of the way Gabrielle did when she wanted something.
"Getting angry and frustrated will only make it harder," he explained patiently. "Okay," he said a little louder so the rest of the class could hear him. "What I would like you all to do is close your eyes."
After a moment of confused looks, the students did so, and he paced at the front of the room so he was not rooted to one spot.
"Now, I want you to take a few breaths. Transfiguration takes a lot of patience and calm. Pick up your skewers, feel the texture of the wood, picture the colour of it in your mind. Good," he praised as they followed his instructions. "Put it back on the desk and imagine what you want it to be. Think of how smooth the metal is compared to the wood, how much harder and colder it will be to the touch, and when you think you have it clearly, cast your spell."
For a moment or so, they were silent as he looked on with Professor McGonagall who seemed to be watching in anticipation to see the results.
Slowly, but surely, whispered incantations could be heard followed by a mixture of cheers groans of disappointment. A significant number of the class had been successful, some, not so much and still had the wooden skewer on the desk in front of them.
"For those of you that did not manage it, it means that you did not quite concentrate enough. Try again," he encouraged. "I will come and help you a little more if you need it. If you did manage, then keep going until you can do it without the need to close your eyes."
Much to his surprise, it was a Slytherin boy who asked for his assistance first, though he appeared to do so reluctantly.
"Could you help me, Potter?" he asked grumpily.
"Of course," Harry replied, ignoring his demeanour. "What are you struggling with?"
"I just can't do it."
Harry nodded thoughtfully before drawing his wand and conjuring a metal skewer. He handed it to the boy who accepted it as though it had been hexed.
"Maybe it would help you to feel what it is you want your one to be. Some people learn better that way."
The boy frowned as he ran his fingers along the length of metal before his eyes widened.
"I think I've got it," he exclaimed as he pointed his wand at his own and muttered the incantation, cheering as it turned into an exact replica of the one Harry had given him.
"Take a point for Slytherin," Harry offered, "and if the rest of you think having one of those will help, then let me know."
The rest of the students clad in green and silver that had not succeeded with the spell began requesting a metal skewer to study, their looks towards him less wary than they had been.
He spent the next few moments conjuring more and working with them, with the majority fairing much better than they had without.
"Okay, that will be everything for today," he announced as the end of the lesson came. "That will be a point each for all of you for your efforts. If you did not quite get it today, we will try again next time, but practice between now and then and we will be able to move on. Now, off you go."
The students began leaving with the Slytherin boy giving him a nod of appreciation.
"Thank you, Harry," the Gryffindor girl offered as she skipped past him and left the room.
He smiled at her, having enjoyed the experience much more than he had anticipated. There was certainly a sense of satisfaction to teaching, something he had not expected to feel.
"That was very well done, Potter," Professor McGonagall praised. "You kept them interested and they progressed very well. You should be very pleased with yourself."
Umbridge snorted disapprovingly and offered him a final look of disgust before taking her leave.
"I bet her notes won't be so flattering," he chuckled.
"No, I don't expect they will," McGonagall agreed. "I cannot believe she did that to you. I will be bringing it up with Professor Dumbledore."
Harry shook his head dismissively.
"I will bet fifty galleons that she will be back for the next one."
"I would rather keep what gold I have, Potter," McGonagall sighed. "In these uncertain times, you just never know when you will need it."
Harry frowned deeply.
"She will not get rid of you, Professor," he denied.
"She will if she can," McGonagall countered.
"Well, I won't let her. She will be gone long before you are, that I can promise," he assured her as he followed the students and took his leave.
Minerva watched him go hoping he would not do anything foolish against Umbridge, though his words filled her with warmth. Despite his rather blunt and candid approach to dealing with people, she had grown fond of him and still held hope that he would one day take her place here when she'd had enough.
He certainly had the potential to do so. He needed only to make it through whatever it was that was coming. No easy feat, but she believed that if anyone could do it, Harry Potter could.
(Break)
His glance shifted between the two tomes of which he had removed from the restricted section of the library some decades ago, though too late, evidently. They were similar in nature, though parallel when discussing the term he had happened upon in the first.
Magick Moste Evile had proven to be little more than a large volume discussing the darkest magical practices. Using this book, one could obtain enough knowledge to rival any former Dark Lord. From simple curses to the more obscure offerings in potions, it was not for those faint of heart, and the headmaster felt sickened by the effects of what could be gleaned from this work. Worse still, he had no doubt that a young Tom Riddle had absorbed this information readily on his journey to becoming what he had.
However, it was not the spells or potions that had piqued his curiosity but a single page containing a short entry regarding something named Horcruxes;
' Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction…'
Perhaps it was his own need of knowledge that spurred him into seeking the term further. It was an oddity and he could not fathom what could be worse than what he had already read within the book, and found it almost unnerving that an author who had shared what he had thus far would not do so with this.
It had taken only a short time before he came upon the creation in the second book that laid seemingly harmless on his desk. Its almost innocent, cracked cover belied its nature. It was a foul book, somehow more sordid than the first.
Secrets of the Darkest Arts made the former seem tame in comparison, so much so that the wizened man thumb through the work until he had found what he was looking for, the information eliciting a mixture of jubilation and dread, the latter taking precedence when the implications made themselves known.
"Oh, Tom," he sighed disappointedly.
How could a boy so brilliant do something so foolish?
However, Tom had made his mistakes, had chosen his path. There was no saving him. What concerned the headmaster now was just what repercussions had been wrought because of his actions.
His eyes drifted to his mountain of accumulated notes as his mind did likewise to a student still under his care. The thoughts that begun to plague him were not good. What would the outcome be if such a thing were to happen?
The book made no mention of a Horcrux being created within a live vessel. Was it even possible to do so? If so, had it been done intentionally?
He tried to ponder it logically, though no matter how he approached it, he was merely speculating, but he could not simply ignore his observations. Harry and Tom were so alike in many ways, too much so to merely be coincidence.
Was Harry really who he claimed to be? Could it be that a part of Tom was inhabiting the body of the fifteen-year-old?
Such a though brought the old man no comfort and he knew that he was out of his depth. He would need to tread carefully whilst deciding on his own next course of action. What he needed was help and there was only one person he knew of who may be able to offer it in his most desperate hour. A mind perhaps more brilliant than his own and one he was loath to implement.
His hand reached out and stroked the plumage of his familiar as he considered each piece of evidence singularly with only one giving him pause.
"Neither can live while the other survives," he muttered.
Had the prophecy already been fulfilled? Had Tom already won?
He knew not, but he needed to carefully consider what his next move would be. The fate of Wizarding Britain could very much depend on what he did next as would how this war would be fought.
(Break)
"How was your first day?" Harry asked as he exited the castle with Fleur.
She smiled and nodded.
"I enjoyed it, but I 'ope they get used to me being around. Professor Flitwick was good at distracting them but that Umbridge woman came in during the second lesson. She is 'orrible."
Harry frowned.
"Did she say something to you?"
Fleur shook her head.
"Non, she 'ates me though."
"She hates everyone," Harry snorted. "You were the first one to say Voldemort was back. That would be enough for her."
"Oui, that is probably it," Fleur replied, the smile she gave him not reaching her eyes.
Umbridge didn't only hate her for that. She hated her for what she was, and if the looks she had given her were anything to go by, she would not be content until she was gone from the castle.
"You are distracted, 'Arry, what is bothering you?"
He shook himself of whatever thoughts he was having as he returned the unconvincing smile.
"Not here," he muttered as they exited the gate. "You never know who is listening."
He took her by the arm, and they arrived just outside the wards of the Delacour home a moment later, transported by his portkey.
"I'm going to do something probably really stupid tonight. If I'm caught, I don't even know what trouble I will be in. They will likely lock me up and throw away the key."
"You're scaring me, 'Arry. What could you possibly do for that to 'appen?"
He released a deep breath.
"I'm going to break someone out of Azkaban."
Fleur looked at him in disbelief for a moment before laughing.
"I'm sorry, I thought you said you are going to break someone out of Azkaban."
"I did and I am," he replied seriously.
Her face fell as she shook her head.
"Non, 'Arry! Why would you try something so stupid?"
"It is either that or I break into Gringotts. I don't fancy the second option much."
Fleur swallowed deeply as she took in his countenance. He was nervous, and understandably so. There was only one reason he would do something like this.
"You are trying to get one of those things."
He nodded.
"It is in a vault in the bank with no way to get it without someone who can get in."
"Could you not just tell the goblins about it?"
Harry chuckled humourlessly.
"They wouldn't care. The only thing they want to do is protect whatever assets are kept there and if I tried that option and then had to break in as I suspect, they would know it is me," he pointed out. "I've considered every possible option I have, and this is the one with the least risk."
"Then let me 'elp you…"
"No, it would only add to the risk if I took you along. So many things can go wrong with this, but I do not have any choice and cannot wait any longer. Eventually, he will break them out of prison and my chance will be gone. I need to do this as quietly as possible. He cannot suspect what I am up to."
"Non, I do not like it, 'Arry."
"I know, I'm not keen on it either but if I want him gone, I have to do it."
"Is there no other way?" she all but pleaded.
"If there was, I would take it," he assured her as he pulled her into his arms. "And don't worry, I have no plans of letting them catch me. I'm sure you would not be happy with me if they did."
"I would not," she mumbled into his chest.
"I will call you as soon as I'm done, I promise."
She nodded reluctantly.
"Just think, when this is done, I will be one step closer to it all being over."
"And 'ow many more foolish things like this will you 'ave to do for that?"
"With any luck, only one and then I will be able to live my life. I will finally be free."
She offered him a sad smile knowing how much it meant to him.
"The you 'ad better 'urry, non? The only person who should be able to keep you prisoner should be me."
He smirked before kissing her and taking a step back.
"How can I be your prisoner when I am freer than I have ever been when I'm with you?" he asked, his portkey activating before she could give her response.
She stared at the space he had occupied only a moment before, the warmth of his words filling her with hope. He would make it, he had to. Life couldn't only ever be so cruel to one person, could it?
There had to be something better for him in the future, for them. She had to believe there was or risk crumbling. She had to believe that Harry had meant what he said because the alternative did not bear thinking about.
(Break)
Being in such proximity to the island only added to his nerves, the oppression weighing heavily upon his shoulders adding to the already substantial burden he carried. It did little to calm him, though he proceeded, his broom cutting through the heavy wind with ease, much steadier than he felt within himself.
Here, he was approaching the unknown. Tom had given him no pearl of wisdom to see him through. There were no hurdles of his creation to overcome, no, here there would be no help forthcoming from his former mentor. This, he had to do alone, had to rely on his own skill to see success. Were he to fail, the consequences would be dire.
With that in mind, he slowed his broom to a stop and peered through the small crack that served as a window to one of the cells, holding his invisibility cloak tightly around him to prevent it being carried off.
This one was empty, and he could only imagine how cramped and unpleasant a stint within would be. The furnishings of the tiny space amounted to a thin mattress thrown into one corner. There was not even a thin blanket to ward off the cold, though such a commodity would be pointless. The dementors would see to that.
Leaving behind the cell, he began the arduous task of looking for whom it was he had come to collect.
The prison itself, even from a distance spoke of nothing but misery and despair, something that the state of the inmates would only attest to. The cells that were occupied were so by mostly unmoving figures, staring at one of the four walls, their expressions mirroring the blankness. They would occasionally make a noise of sorts, or worse, a sudden scream of horror would rent the air before it would fall ominously silent once more.
To Harry, such a place should not exist. It would be kinder for those sentenced to a prolonged period to be executed. He could not see how much of a person could be salvaged if the current state what he had seen thus far was anything to go by.
He shook his head of his musings, reminding himself once more of why he was here.
Upon further exploration, he realised that the prison was not separated into wings based on gender. Though females were few, they could be found in cells next to men. Such information helped little when had yet to find any bearing the dark mark, bringing him to his next realisation; the Death Eaters must be being housed away from the general population.
He changed tact, exploring cells sporadically until he happened upon the place in question. Peering once more into a window, he spotted the mark clearly visible on the left forearm of an emaciated man who resembled more a corpse. Had he not coughed violently, Harry would have thought him dead.
Nonetheless, he was not here for him. There was only one who could help him, and he found her two cells down, her own mark displayed proudly, her head bowed between her legs as she mumbled to herself, seated on her mattress.
Harry watched her for a short while, finding it difficult to believe that this had once been the most feared witch in Britain. What remained of her was a skeletal figure, her thick locks of hair, once black, stringy and mostly white covering her face.
She had been the very best of Voldemort's followers, the most passionate to the cause, the deadliest. He remembered vividly of when Tom had told him of his followers, their weaknesses and strengths. Bellatrix Lestrange had been at the very top of his list.
Flashback
Harry perused the list of Voldemort's inner circle that Tom had provided; a who's who of the worst that wizarding Britain had to offer. These were those that had pledged to him from when he had returned from his travels abroad, those that followed his doctrine and had done so with vigour. In his name, they had murdered, raped and pillaged their way across the country, all to retain what status they believed they were entitled to.
" And then we come to Bella," Tom sighed.
"Bella?"
" Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Black," he explained. "She is the wife of Rudolphus, but so very different. Her tongue is as sharp as her wand and should not be taken lightly. She was his chosen, his most loyal, most devout and most dangerous. She was the one he trusted above all others and he will move the earth itself to have her by his side."
"She is one of those that ended up in Azkaban," Harry pointed out.
" And he will set them free, Harry. Make no mistake, it is unavoidable."
"Great," Harry commented sarcastically.
" The only one you should concern yourself with is Bella. The others are an ensemble of fools, dangerous in their own way, but still fools. When the time comes and they are released, you will be ready."
"Even for Bellatrix?"
Tom fell silent for a moment.
" Even for her," he confirmed.
"Okay, so what are her weaknesses?" the teen sighed.
" She has only one; Voldemort."
Harry frowned and shook his head.
"Was she in love with him?"
" I think she believes she is, but no, it is more an obsession. She had been a promising girl, talented, just as yourself and I, but I suppose things did not go favourably for her. Voldemort came into her life in an hour of need and he took advantage of her, manipulated her. To her, he was a saviour, a god."
"How am I supposed to use that as an advantage?"
" You will need to get to her before him. She is one that he entrusted with a horcrux. It is within the Lestrange vault in Gringotts."
"Bloody hell, will any of this be easy?"
" Unlikely, but I know that you can use this to your advantage, Harry. Convince her you are him and she will do anything you ask of her."
"How can I do that?"
" You must treat her as he did. Fetch a fresh piece of parchment and I will give you all you need."
End Flashback
It had seemed much easier at the time than his journey had proven to be thus far. Tom had shared much with him, but it would never feel that it had been enough, not until it was all over.
"Here goes nothing," he mumbled as he pointed his wand to himself.
He levitated himself above the sea below and shrunk his broom before pocketing it. Taking a deep breath, his body faded into a thick, black fog and he squeezed himself through the small fissure in the wall, trying to not focus on the first time Tom had taught him this spell.
It was one of his own creation, favoured and often used by Voldemort's followers during times of combat. Originally, it had been devised as a new method of travel, though it proved to be less convenient than apparation. It was, however, quite useful for use when apparation wards were erected. The aurors did not know how to prevent it, but Harry had learnt and looked forward to the day Voldemort or one of the Death Eaters tried to implement it against him. They would meet a rather unfavourable end.
His first time using it, had not ended well. He had lost focus and had spent several moments stuck in a conjured steel tube he had attempted to pass through. Tom had been highly amused, and Harry, embarrassed. The former had insisted he master it, much to his chagrin, though, as he appeared in the cell with the woman, he was pleased he had.
He removed his invisibility cloak as she looked up at him, her violet eyes wide and watery with shock.
"Who are you?" she demanded to know as she scooted away from him, her knees brought up tightly to her chest.
"Shh, Bella," he whispered, "It is not yet time to let the others know of my arrival."
She frowned questioningly at him and flinched as he took hold of her arm and pressed his finger to her mark. He hissed gently and she sighed, shuddering at the warmth that spread throughout her.
"M-my lord?" she breathed disbelievingly.
He offered her what he thought was an arrogant smirk.
"Who else would come for you, my dear?"
"I knew you would," she sobbed as she threw herself at his feet and shook uncontrollably.
He took a knee beside the woman and raised her head using two fingers under her chin. The way she looked at him made him distinctly uncomfortable and it was hard to associate her with the same woman that had tortured two aurors into a state of insanity. Touching her made him feel rather unclean.
"I have need of you before we can free the others from this place. This body is only a temporary one. To get one stronger, I need what it is you are keeping safe for me. I need you to retrieve the cup from your vault. Can you do that for me?"
Bellatrix nodded almost innocently.
"Of course, my lord. You need only take me away from here and I will take my place at your side."
Harry gave her as warm a smile as he could, ignoring the sense of revulsion that came over him.
"Then we should not delay any longer. Allow me to remove your shackles and freedom shall be yours."
Bellatrix presented him with her shackled wrist and with a little work, he managed to remove them. The runes were not difficult to decipher, but they were tied to the wards. He needed to remove the link, which proved to be easier than he had thought. They were considerably outdated, Fudge's negligence towards anything regarding the justice system benefitting him this time.
"This will likely be uncomfortable, but you will be away from here before you know it," he offered as he wrapped his cloak around them both.
With another wave of his wand, the two vanished in a plume of smoke and he navigated them through the tight gap, resizing and sitting them upon his broom as they materialised outside of the prison.
He gestured for her to be quiet whilst he listened for any sign that they had been detected, and after a minute of silence, he steered them towards the east coast of England, content he had managed the first part of his plan without a hitch.
His nose wrinkled as the wind blew the stench of the woman in front towards him. Evidently, Azkaban inmates did not bathe often, if at all and it was apparent. Taking pity on her, and so that he did not have to endure the smell any longer, he cast cleansing and freshening charms on her, though it would take much more intricate work to fix the rotten teeth she had been left with.
Not that he was so inclined to do so. Her presence would only be temporary, after all.
"When we land, I will apparate us to Knockturn Alley. From there, you can go to the bank and get what it is we need. I will wait for you."
The woman nodded, seemingly simply enjoying being out of the cell for the first time in almost fourteen years. He felt for her. Despite what she had done, he could not fathom existing within the four walls she had for so long. However, she was a liability and could prove to be a threat to him if she was not handled accordingly.
She would serve her purpose, and then, he knew not. He knew what he should do but whether he could that to someone that had not wronged him, he couldn't be certain.
They remained silent until they landed, and he had transported them to their final destination. With little more than a flick of his wand, he transfigured her prison attire into robes more befitting a woman of her status.
She gave him a grateful smile.
"I will return shortly, my lord," she promised as she practically skipped towards the bank only a short distance away in the adjoining alley.
All he could do now was wait. If she had figured out he was not who he had said, she would not return, and his problems would only increase with her disappearance.
He prayed that was not the case, that she had fallen for his ruse and that his efforts had not been in vain.
(Break)
It was as though she had woken from the most haunting of nightmares, had surfaced into the most beautiful of summer of days after having been plunged into wintery depths. If she was indeed dreaming, she did not want Morpheus to release her from his hold.
Perhaps she was. Perhaps the slither of hope she had clung to all this time had finally snapped and she had been broken into submission and the liberation she felt was all within her frayed mind.
She shook her head.
The cobbles beneath her feet said differently, the familiar smell of the apothecary did not lie and the marble building before her was there as it had always been.
Her lord had come for her as she had hoped.
She had always believed in him when others had doubted his ambition. They did not know him the way she did. They had only witnessed a glimpse of what he could do, and when the news reached them that he had fallen to a babe in his cot, her belief did not waver.
There was none that could hope to defeat him, let alone a mere boy.
She giggled, allowing the giddiness she felt to burst forth for just a moment.
She composed herself as she neared the steps to the bank and checked that her hood was up. It would not do well for her to be recognised by any witches and wizards that may be within.
She pushed open the door, sighing in relief when she found it to be bereft of her kind. The beastly little creatures that served them would not bat an eyelid at her appearance, however. They cared not for the affairs of humans.
She approached the teller who was scratching away with a quill as he weighed up a pile of galleons and cleared her throat. His beady eyes trailed from the piece of parchment he was working on and met her own.
"I would like to access my family vault," she announced.
"And which family vault would that be?" he questioned.
"Lestrange."
His eyes narrowed as he leaned back in the chair before nodding after a moment.
"I will fetch the manager for the account."
Bellatrix sighed.
"Fine but be quick about it."
The goblin offered her the slightest of bows as he stood and waddled away.
She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table he had just occupied whilst she waited. Much to her relief, it was a short one as the goblin returned only a moment later with another in tow, this one older and even uglier if such a thing was possible.
"Mrs Lestrange?" he questioned, causing her to grimace. It was not a name she carried proudly.
She nodded and he gestured for her to follow. She did so and was led into one of the side rooms within the bank. The goblin took a seat behind the desk though she remained standing. She had spent many years seated and was not inclined to do so now.
"Now, the family account has not been accessed in a very long time. As such, it has remained as it was since your last visit," he explained.
"I have no interest in the finances," she huffed. "I have come to fetch something, that is all."
The goblin nodded, seemingly unhappy with her lack of interest.
"Very well, the vault itself will verify your identity. I will take you down now," he announced.
Once more, she found herself following him, this time towards where the cart would take her on her descent into the bowels of the bank. It was when they entered the chamber where the carts were kept that she encountered came across the first people other than her guards or lord she had seen in however long it was she had been incarcerated.
There were a trio of them, employees of the bank seemingly as they were stood amongst a group of goblins discussing something about a curse they were attempting to deal with.
At her entrance, they looked up and she retreated further into the confines of her hood. At a glance, they looked too young to recognise her and the room was dark. They paid her no further mind as she joined her own escort in the cart.
In only a matter of seconds, she had left them behind, and she breathed a sigh of relief. That was too close for comfort.
Thankfully, she reached the vault without further issue and did not hesitate before placing her hand on the family sigil, though being recognised as one of them sickened her. She had once been a Black and had been relegated to what she had without care for her wishes. Not that Rudolphus had been a bad husband for all the years they had spent together. He had mostly been an absent one as he pursued whatever foolish ambitions he had for himself that evidently amounted to nothing. It wasn't until he had somehow worked his way up the Dark Lord's ranks that she took any notice of him, and still, she found him dull and lacking.
He was not without his talents, but certainly did not have the mind to put them to use. He was little more than a yes man with no thoughts of his own. He had been indoctrinated by his father throughout his life and had simply followed in the man's beliefs.
Maybe she would kill him just be free of his stupidity, though that was something to ponder at another time. She had been brought here for a reason and she had no intention of letting her lord down.
Everything was indeed as she left it and she quickly climbed the ladder to retrieve the cup she had come for. Were it not for the badger engraved into the base, she would question what was so special about it that it had gotten the Dark Lord's attention. It had once belonged to one of the founders of the school she herself had attended and was said to house some rather remarkable healing properties, or so she had read.
It was these properties that he was likely hoping to make use of. She could think of no other reason the cup could be so important.
Having gathered what she had come for, she took her leave from the vault and was escorted back to the foyer of the bank and made a hasty exit. She had already been hindered enough and her lord was waiting for her.
It was when she was turning into Knockturn Alley that she realised she was being followed. She hadn't seen nor heard anything to raise her suspicion, but she felt it, a presence watching her, tracing her footsteps.
With no wand to defend herself with and her master only a short distance away, she did all she could and ran, her assailant following suit with a cry of surprise at having been discovered.
She ducked as a stunning spell whizzed towards her, passing by her head as looked around desperately for the Dark Lord. Already, she was exhausted, her body weakened from her stay in Azkaban.
"Stop!" her pursuer demanded as he fired another spell, this one aimed true and she closed her eyes only to hear a gasp of surprise.
When she opened them, it was to the sight of her lord in front of her and she breathed a sigh of relief at his cloaked figure. She could feel the magic radiating off him as he stared down the shocked redhead that had chased her.
She smirked victoriously. The fool would regret attempting to interfere in her master's affairs.
"You should not have tried to stop her," his voice, raspier than it had been previously hissed, though it sounded clearly throughout the empty alley.
"I K-know who she is," the man returned defiantly.
Her lord bowed his head and she caught a glimpse of his red, serpentine eyes.
"Then we have a problem."
In the blink of an eye, his wand was in his hand and the redhead found himself on the receiving end of the Dark Lord's wrath.
His hastily conjured shield buckled under the first onslaught and collapsed under the second. He attempted to fight back but could mount no offense that wasn't batted aside as though it was little more than a stinging hex.
He stumbled, as did she when the ground began to tremble beneath her feet and large chunks of the pavement were dislodged. They swirled around the nervous man who knew not how to combat such magic, though he tried banishing them.
His power, however, was no match for her lord's. She could feel it, it was intoxicating, beautiful and destructive. As it always did, her breath hitched in her chest and she shuddered in delight.
The redhead once again tried to attack, only for his offerings to be found lacking and he collapsed to the ground with a scream as the Dark Lord's rebuttal tore through his pathetic shield.
He twitched uncontrollably as blood began to leak from his eyes, nose and ears. He would soon be dead, the price they all paid for crossing wands with him.
With only a few waves of his wand, the alley was returned to what it had been when they arrived, and they had thankfully not drawn the attention of any within the few businesses still open. The bars here were known to be rowdy and it was unlikely none noticed. Even if they did, the clientele that frequented such establishments were not the kind to report anything to the aurors.
She watched as her lord approached the downed man and shook his head.
"He must not die," he announced.
She frowned.
"But, my lord…"
"Quiet, Bellatrix," he hissed irritably, cutting her off. "He is one of Dumbledore's and comes from a pureblood family. His disappearance will be noted, and we must remain hidden until I am strong enough."
She nodded and looked on unhappily as he countered the curse he had used.
The bleeding stopped and the man's breathing evened out after a few moments. With a flick of his wand, he had him bound in tight ropes before he brought him round with a muttered incantation.
"Mr Weasley," he greeted him.
The already pale man's eyes widened fearfully, and Bellatrix felt the usual fluttering in her stomach at the response her lord elicited from those beneath him.
"We find ourselves in a rather unfavourable position, one that I will allow you to remedy," her lord continued with a gentle hiss. "Now, I could kill you and then I could find and kill every member of your family or I can simply make you forget that you ever saw me or my associate this evening. I will give you five seconds to decide."
The man had the temerity to ponder his answer for a few seconds before he sagged defeatedly.
"Fine, but you won't win. People like you never do," he answered defiantly.
Her lord laughed and she joined in with the humour, a giggle of her own escaping her lips.
"And tell me, Mr Weasley, who will stop me? That old fool Dumbledore? You?"
The redhead bared his teeth as he shook his head.
"Harry Potter will. He's already beaten you."
Her lord stilled at the words and nodded thoughtfully.
"Potter could never hope to defeat me, Mr Weasley," he denied. "If you are fortunate enough, you will leave to see his downfall. Obliviate."
The redhead fell into a state of unconsciousness and the dark lord turned to her, his waxen expression one of displeasure.
"My lord, I'm sorry," she pleaded.
"You were careless, Bella, and now I must clean up this mess."
Her eyes widened as his wand was turned towards her, and before she could utter a protest, she was felled by a burst of green light, the world around her fading to black.
(Break)
Harry sunk onto his mattress as he tapped the orb with his wand. He had barely done so when the worried features of Fleur appeared ball.
"'Arry, are you okay?"
He nodded.
"It's done, I got it," he informed her.
She released a deep breath, her posture relaxing significantly.
"Did you 'ave any problems?"
"A few, but nothing I couldn't manage," he replied with a tired smile. "I do think it's best I keep a low profile for a bit. I don't want anyone looking in my direction if anyone manages to find out what I've done."
"What did you do, 'Arry?"
"Nothing that you need to worry yourself with. The important thing is, I got it and that's all that matters, for now. With a bit of luck, this will all be over soon enough."
"Okay," she said uncertainly, the concern she felt evident. "I will see you in the morning, non?"
He nodded.
"You will."
"Goodnight, 'Arry."
He gave her a final smile before ending the call, the night not having gone as he had planned. Still, he had gotten what he needed and now all that remained of that horcrux was a pile of ash drifting somewhere along the tide of the North Sea.