The Ravages of Time
A/N
This week, I will be uploading the podcast I recorded with Shaydrall ( The Merging) and next week the one I recorded with Duararaa ( His Angel), so, do go over and check out my other pages (Information on my profile here) where I upload a weekly podcast amongst many other things.
Anyway, enjoy, follow favourite and review.
TBR
Her eyes shot open and she immediately scrambled into the corner of her cell, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. It had been so real, the dreaded light she herself had used to put an end to her own victims over the years.
She touched her own face before her hands worked their way down the length of her rough-spun prison robes, her shackles clanking as they always did, and the familiar cold seeped into her bones. She was still here, but the dream had been so vivid, though she could not remember any of it, only the green spell that felled her.
She shook her head and released a deep, laboured breath. It could not have been real. If it was, she would be dead.
Still, even if the dream had been merely that, the fear that coursed through her veins was not fabricated, her trembling not only due to the cold the creatures here brought. For the first time since she had been but a little girl, she was scared and confused, and the sounds of screaming and spell fire she could hear in the distance did nothing to comfort her.
She listened as they drew closer, though the screams became fewer and further between. That only meant that the guards were dead and the only thing between herself and whomever had trespassed upon the prison was a door.
She had waited so long for her freedom, so why did her fear deepen? Did something happen in the dream? Had it been a warning?
She did not know, and she had no time to ponder it as the door to her cell groaned before it twisted and was ripped from its fixings in the wall.
Without thought, she pushed herself as far into the corner as she could as the robed figure entered, his waxy skin and red, snake-like eyes setting her on edge.
"Come, Bella," he demanded in a gentle voice, reaching for her hand. "We do not have long before the aurors will arrive."
She frowned as she tentatively reached for the offered limb.
She recognised the voice and even the feel of him, but there was something distinctly unfamiliar about him. Although everything told her she was being a fool, she could not dismiss the immediate thought that begun to plague her; this wasn't her master, there was something not quite right about him, though she could not fathom what that was.
Even so, she had no intention of remaining here, not when freedom was being offered so readily.
As such, she pushed aside her doubt for the time being and gripped the offered hand, an odd feeling of deja-vu overwhelming her as she was surrounded by a black fog and spirited away from this place.
(Break)
Mass Breakout from Azkaban!
By Barnabus Cuffe
It has been revealed that late last night, ten high profile criminals have escaped from the island fortress, spurring a national manhunt to have them recaptured.
Amongst the escapees is the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange (formerly Black), Antonin Dolohov (former celebrated duelling champion) and Augustus Rookwood (once an employee of the Ministry of Magic), and all former followers of You-Know-Who.
When questioned about this most unwelcome development, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge had this to say;
" We are working tirelessly to apprehend these individuals. I do not say this lightly when I say that none should be approached under any circumstances. If you believe you have sighted them, contact the auror office immediately."
When pressed for further comment as to how such an escape was possible, he had this to add;
" Our investigation into what happened is in its infancy. I will, however, say with certainty, that outside help was undoubtedly a contributing factor to this. I can assure you, we are doing all we can to get to the bottom of this and are exploring all possibilities."
To reiterate what the Minister has said, these individuals are exceedingly dangerous and should not be approached under any circumstances.
We will keep you informed of further developments.
Harry shook his head, cursing Tom for just how right he had been. He had hoped it would not happen but was equally relieved that he had done what he'd needed to when he had, though he still questioned if he had made the right decision.
He frowned as a much smaller article caught his eye, one that had been relegated to the bottom right corner and served little more than as a footnote.
Bartemius Crouch passes away
Bartemius Crouch, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and more recently, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, has died peacefully at his home after a short, undisclosed illness.
Our thoughts are with his loved ones during this difficult time.
He snorted derisively, the convenience of the addition of the latter notice tying in with what he expected from the Ministry. He had told Fudge the night of the first task of Crouch. He had no doubt the man had been dead for much longer than had been let on, but Fudge had waited for the most opportune moment to release the news, something he had done perfectly. With the revelation of the Azkaban escape, few would take note of it.
Maybe the rest of wizarding Britain would wake up to what was lurking in the shadows?
Harry, had his doubts. Too many feared what the implications would be were they to acknowledge it, despite the glaring evidence. Instead, they were just as foolish as the Minister and would follow his lead by burying their heads in the sand, something that would one day prove to be to their detriment if ignorance was the option they would cling to.
If that was there choice, then death would be all that awaited them.
He huffed as he stood and thanked the elves for his breakfast before taking his leave of the kitchen. He needed to meet Fleur at the gates, but the day was his own. He had no lessons to teach and no defence to attend, so would likely spend his time training. It had served him well as a distraction thus far, but with Bellatrix being free, he could not help but question once more if he had taken the correct course of action.
He was pulled from his thoughts as he approached the gate in time to see Fleur's arrival.
"What's 'appened?" she asked, noticing his rather dour demeanour.
He gestured for her to follow and he led her to the shore of the lake. Casting a privacy ward around them, he withdrew the morning issue of the Daily Prophet and handed it to her.
She gasped as she took in the headline, a frown marring her features.
"Surely they cannot ignore this?"
Harry chuckled.
"Fudge will do all he can to for as long as he can. I give it until lunch time before Umbridge implements another educational decree to do with this."
Fleur nodded er agreement.
"But, I thought you 'ad killed 'er," she whispered, pointing to the photo of Bellatrix.
"What made you think that?"
She offered him a sad smile.
"You've been so distracted these past few weeks and all you said was she wouldn't be able to speak about what 'appened. I just assumed…"
He shook his head.
"I thought about it," he admitted, "I really did but it didn't feel right. In a weird way, she is family and she hasn't done anything to me. I just put her in an enchanted sleep."
"Family?"
"Distant cousins, but that's not really the problem. She is a Black and I am the heir to the Black lordship. It would be a terrible way to begin running the family by murdering one of its daughters."
Fleur's eyes widened in surprise.
"I didn't know that."
Harry shrugged.
"I suppose the world works in funny ways. I didn't kill her, but she will not harm me, and she will find that she cannot harm anyone else unless it is in self-defence."
She eyed him warily.
"What did you do, 'Arry?"
He released a deep sigh.
"I used an old ritual I found in the family grimoire. It was used by former heads of the family when they felt that another member was a threat to them. It ensured that they could not be murdered by them nor could they cause harm to others without the need to defend themselves. This meant they could not threaten or coerce someone into killing the head on their behalf."
Fleur nodded her understanding.
"And?"
"They will be unable to do anything that does not coincide with the intentions of their head of house. For Bellatrix, I don't know what will happen, but she should begin to distrust Voldemort. She will not see him as her master anymore and she will get the urge to flee or carry out what she believes my intentions are regarding him."
"She will try to kill 'im?"
Harry shook his head.
"I don't think so. Her loyalty to him is so deep that I don't think the magic will work to that extent. At worst, she will run away. I gave her the knowledge of one of the family homes she can seek refuge in should she need it. I will be alerted as soon as she arrives."
"That's very complex magic, 'Arry. What if she remembers what you did?" Fleur asked worriedly.
"She can't because the memory does not exist. I didn't wipe it, I completely removed it from her mind. As fragile as it was, it wasn't difficult. She will think she dreamt something unpleasant, but she will never be able to remember it because, to her, the memory does not exist."
Fleur released a deep breath.
"Is that not risky, 'Arry? What if Voldemort looks into it?"
"There is nothing for him to find. He may well detect the Black magic, but he can't do anything about it, and he will know that. If he was to try, it would be a very unpleasant experience for him."
"It would 'ave been easier to kill 'er, non?"
He nodded.
"It would, but it's not my place to. If she tries to hurt anyone, it will cause her great pain, as is the nature of the Black magic. At best, it will work as I expect and she will flee. If she is uncooperative, she will go back to prison."
Fleur was not entirely convinced, but she did not press the issue.
"What about the rest of them?" she questioned, indicating the nine other images of the escapees.
"I wanted to deal with them when I was at the prison, but the ritual left me exhausted. I barely had enough energy to apparate back here," he explained. "I intended to go back to finish what I started and should have. I did not expect Voldemort to break them out so soon when he is supposed to be lying low."
"So, what will you do?"
"I will carry on as I am, I suppose," he answered thoughtfully. "There is one other thing I have to do but it will have to wait. I imagine the Ministry will be on high alert, so it is not the most opportune moment for that, yet."
He had mentioned something to do with the Ministry several times but had not divulged exactly what his intentions were regarding it thus far.
"Okay," she agreed. "I think you should be a little more careful, non?"
He nodded.
The death eaters weren't much of a threat to him. He knew all he needed to about them, thanks to Tom but it would not hurt to exercise a little more caution.
"Good, then we will be going to the beach this weekend," she announced. "You need a couple of days away from 'ere, 'Arry. I think it will do us both some good. I've been so worried about you."
She took his hands in her own, seemingly relieved by what she had been told. She understood why he would not wish to discuss it, but she had assumed the worst. He was not a cruel person, not really, though she knew he would take a life if needed. That didn't bother her, she simply did not want him to lose himself in the process.
"That would be nice," he agreed.
"Then we will go on Friday night, oui?"
"You won't take no for an answer anyway," he sighed playfully.
"Non, I will not."
"Then Friday night it is," he confirmed, bringing down the privacy ward with a wave of his wand. "Ten Galleons says the entrance hall is full of students reading a new educational decree."
"I will not take that bet. The 'orrible woman would 'ave done something."
Harry nodded his agreement and the appearance of Educational Decree Number Eleven , did not surprise him.
Educational Decree Number 11
On the advice of the Minister of Magic and by order of Dolores Jane Umbridge, the discussion of the topic regarding the Azkaban escapees is hereby prohibited for students and staff.
Dolores Jane Umbridge
High Inquisitor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
(Break)
"I would like to begin this meeting by formally welcoming Miss Delacour as a member of staff," Dumbledore announced, his eyes twinkling as he led the applause of those around her. "She has kindly volunteered as part of her apprenticeship to assist Filius with his teaching responsibilities. For those of you that were here last year, Miss Delacour was the Beauxbatons champion for the Triwizard Tournament and demonstrated exceptional skill throughout and we are very fortunate to have her with us. How have you found your time with us thus far?"
"It 'as been very rewarding," Fleur answered honestly. "The students 'ave treated me well and Professor Flitwick 'as been a fantastic instructor. 'E is a credit to this school and is very 'ighly thought of."
The diminutive man beamed at the praise and offered her a nod of gratitude.
"Filius?" Dumbledore prompted.
"Miss Delacour is fantastic with the students. There are times when some can become distracted by her presence, but it is becoming less frequent. Her assistance is invaluable and when I can steal Mr Potter from Minerva's clutches," he added good naturedly, "I am certain they will only benefit further with the extra tutelage."
"Excellent," Dumbledore declared with a clap. "I am pleased that this is proving to be a positive arrangement for you both, and the students, of course."
" Hem hem."
"Yes, Dolores?" Dumbledore all but sighed at the interruption.
"I have heard differently, Headmaster," she said sweetly. "According to some students, Miss Delacour's presence is serving only as a distraction."
"I have received no such complaints, Dolores," Dumbledore returned. "I have heard only positive things from both students and staff, other than yourself, of course."
The woman's smile did not waver.
"I would have thought that my inspection notes would have made their way to you?"
"They have and I have discussed your findings with the members of staff in question who categorically dispute your findings. Forgive me, Dolores, but I will defer to their many years of expertise in the matters at hand."
Her smile vanished, replaced with a look of rage.
"Potter is not fit to teach," she declared.
"Mr Potter is proving to be a very competent instructor, Dolores," Minerva fired back. "It appears that the only one who has a problem here is you. You attend almost all his lessons and attempt to disrupt them. He has handled himself very well under the circumstances and I will not tolerate your presence within my classroom any longer."
"It is my job to inspect members of staff!"
"Potter is not a member of staff, as he so rightly pointed out when I asked him to attend this meeting. He is still a student, Dolores, in case you have forgotten," Minerva pointed out.
"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore thundered, having grown tired of the back and forth between the two. "Dolores, I have warned you several times about your conduct regarding Mr Potter. You will not inspect anymore of his lessons nor will you antagonise him further."
"It is Potter that antagonises me!"
Dumbledore shook his head disapprovingly.
"It is very unbecoming for a woman of your years to be so easily provoked by a fifth-year student," he chided. "We are educators, Dolores, there will be students you may not care for personally, but your job is to educate them."
Umbridge scowled as she stood and stormed from the room.
"She will get herself hurt if she does not curb her ways," Flitwick sighed.
"Then she will have brought it on herself," Professor Sprout offered with a shrug.
Fleur could not disagree. Umbridge was playing a very dangerous game with Harry, and her also. She too was nearing the end of her patience with the woman. She was rude, abhorrent and had no place in a school.
"Are there any other matters that we need to discuss?" Dumbledore questioned.
"I believe we need to get Potter sitting the remainder of his NEWTS as soon as possible," Minerva suggested. "The sooner we can get him off role, the better for him. That way, she will have no say in anything he does. Her decrees are growing more ridiculous by the day and they all seem to be aimed to discredit him."
"I agree," Filius replied. "We should write to Griselda this evening and see what can be done, unless anyone has any reason we shouldn't?"
None at the table offered any protest and the meeting broke up shortly after. It had been a strange experience seeing and taking part in a staff meeting, though she doubted the way this one had gone was usual practice.
With that in mind, she took her leave of Dumbledore's office and headed towards the entrance hall where she would meet Harry. She only had another two days before they would spend some much-needed time together away from the school, and hopefully, only a matter of weeks before he would have completed his formal education. Of course, he would still attend for his meetings with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, but there would be no need for him to be here as much as he currently was.
The sooner she could get him away from Umbridge, the better.
As if by some unfortunate coincidence, the woman was walking in the opposite direction towards her as she passed the bathroom on the second floor.
"The Minister will be hearing from me about your placement here," she spat.
Fleur snorted, stilling the defence professor.
"You are mistaken if you think I am worried about the Minister, Madame Umbridge. My father is an ICW representative and it is to them that the whole of Britain answers to."
"The ICW do not involve themselves in domestic affairs," Umbridge hissed.
"They will if your Minister continues to be a foolish pig and people continue to die without him doing anything."
Umbridge giggled.
"People are not dying, you stupid girl. You are a liar as is Mr Potter. I do not know what you think you are doing here, but rest assured, I will get to the bottom of it. I will not have you spreading your filthy, half-breed lies."
Fleur took a step towards the squat woman and peered down at her.
"I do 'ope you are not threatening me, Madame Umbridge," she whispered dangerously. "It is not wise to play with fire, non?"
Her eyes transformed into a more avian appearance as she conjured and held a bright, blue ball of fire.
"You could get yourself burned."
Umbridge's eyes widened and she took a step back.
"How dare you, you disgusting creature!"
Fleur once more closed the distance between them.
"Do not mistake me for a silly little girl that will tremble before you. I 'ave survived 'im and you do not frighten me," she warned. "If you ever try to threaten me again, what 'Arry 'as done to you will be nothing to what I will do, oui?"
"The M-minister will here of this."
"As will my father. Do not bite of more than you can chew, Madame Umbridge. Provoking a disgusting 'alf-breed like myself will end badly for you."
With her parting words given, she shot the woman a final look of distaste and left her shaking where she stood. Whether it was from fear or rage, she knew not and did not care.
"You're looking quite feral," Harry commented as she reached the entrance hall.
She said nothing but pulled him to her and kissed him deeply.
"People will see," he muttered against her lips.
"I do not care, 'Arry," she replied.
It was late enough that the students would be in their common rooms and she needed to vent. She could think of no better way to do so than this.
(Break)
Teaching the first and second years had been quite unnerving, but it was not comparable to teaching those he had shared lessons with over the past years of his own schooling.
He stood before the mix of Gryffindor and Slytherin students at the insistence of Professor McGonagall. She felt him ready to teach the OWL curriculum and he could find no grounds to disagree. He had completed his own studies at this stage more than a year ago.
What he found odder than standing before them was the lack of presence of Umbridge who had thus far insisted on attending almost all his previous teachings. For reasons known only to her, she had avoided him, had avoided his stare, likely in the midst of plotting her next move against him.
Not that she would succeed in her endeavours.
In lieu of focusing any more of his own on her, he turned his attention to the class that were awaiting his instruction.
"When it comes to your OWL examination, you will be expected to be able to demonstrate animate to inanimate transfiguration," he began. "You will find all you need to know on page forty-four of The Standard Book of Spells. I will see how you fare with it and offer further instruction where needed. Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked, noticing Hermione had her hand raised.
"Will we be tested using hedgehogs in the exam?"
"That will be down to the discretion of the examiner," Harry replied, "but the principle will be the same. We are starting with hedgehogs today but will use other creatures in the coming lessons. Any other questions?"
When none were forthcoming, he gestured for them to proceed with the given work. They did so and walked amongst them, offering suggestions where he felt they were needed and even demonstrating the spell for a few who requested.
When the lesson ended, he took his place at the front of the class.
"That will be all for today. If you can, continue to practice the spell between now and our next lesson. The more you can do so, the easier you will find it. We will be moving on to iguanas and will be transfiguring them into bags."
The class filed out and Harry breathed a sig of relief for getting through his first lesson teaching the advanced topic. It had gone as well as he could have hoped, and even if some of the students were taken aback by being taught by someone their own age, they had responded well.
"You did a good job, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall praised. "It is not easy to teach your own peers and I was expecting there to be a little more resistance from some. I am, however, pleased that was not the case."
Harry nodded his gratitude. Malfoy had done all he could to not attract attention to himself, though it appeared to be taking much more effort than it should. Perhaps he had heeded the warning he had given, though that was unlikely. The boy had too much of a sense of self-importance, an unfortunate trait he had inherited from his father and one he shared with Umbridge.
For how long he could curb his own stupidity, he did not know, but he was keeping a very close eye on the blonde.
"It could have gone worse," he agreed.
"Well, now that your final lesson of the week is complete, I would recommend enjoying your weekend. I will perhaps have you teaching a sixth-year class soon enough."
Harry nodded his acceptance. If she believed he was ready, he was not one to argue with the woman. She had been proven to be right thus far, after all.
"Then I will see you on Monday morning, Professor."
She offered him a wave of dismissal as she began gathering the hedgehogs that had not been successfully transfigured and he left the room. He needed only to meet Fleur by the front gate, and they would be away for the weekend, something he was looking forward to.
Despite Umbridge seemingly ignoring him for the time being, the news of the Azkaban escape hung over him like a dark cloud and he found that Fleur was right. A couple of days away from the castle and England would serve him well.
(Break)
Having spent so long under the effects of the Dementors, his liberated followers were currently recovering from their ordeal, but they would soon once again stand beside him, where they belonged.
Now, however, they were in no fit state to do so. They were weakened, malnourished and each haunted by what they had endured. It would take considerable time for them to recover fully, if they ever would. He had chosen to free them sooner than he had initially intended due to this. They would need time, and that, he had plenty of. He was in no rush to see to the end of his goals. Wizarding Britain remained ignorant of his presence and he would use that to his advantage. He would continue gathering his allies, building his strength and then he would strike. It will be over for his enemies before they can offer any resistance.
Britain was ripe for the picking. With Lucius having made his political moves over the years, there was little to prevent his success. The aurors had been all but reduced to a token force and Dumbledore's order would yet again prove to be ineffective. He was an old man, a dangerous one, but still old and no longer at his best. He would fall with little issue.
Potter was another matter entirely and would likely grow to be his biggest threat if left unchecked. He was talented, shrewd and a problem he would need to deal with sooner rather than later.
"Bring me Rookwood," he demanded to one of his newer followers who jumped at being addressed by the Dark Lord.
He all but ran from the room to carry out the order and Voldemort took a seat, the presence of his familiar calming his warring thoughts.
Potter was not to be underestimated. There was something very unnerving about the boy and it was not merely the similarities to himself he saw in him. No, he had already proven himself a threat and he would not act against him until he was certain of one glaring issue.
"My Lord, you summoned me?" the voice of one those most loyal to him broke into his thoughts.
"Come, Augustus, sit," he instructed.
Not that the man appeared as though he was capable of standing for a prolonged period. His legs already shook from the effort of answering his call and he took the offered seat gratefully.
"How are you, old friend?" Voldemort asked.
"I grow stronger by the day, my lord," Augustus replied.
"I am pleased to hear it," Voldemort responded as he poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to his companion. "I have need of your expertise regarding your former place of work."
"The Department of Mysteries?" Rookwood questioned, a light frown marring his features.
"The very same," Voldemort confirmed. "I wish to know the ins and outs of it."
"It has been many years since I have seen it, my lord. The security changes often and the location of each room with it. It is all but impossible to keep track of them."
Voldemort nodded thoughtfully.
"You are quite the brilliant man, Augustus. Do you think it is something you can do? I have need of an item within, its acquisition is paramount."
"Given time, I believe so, but I will need to study it."
"Then rest, my friend. When you are able, I would have you begin the task of finding the room I seek. I have had the department watched but those doing so are not you nor do they have your most excellent skills."
"I live to serve, my lord," Augustus offered as he stood, his legs shaking under the effort of doing so. "I need only a week or so and I will be ready."
"Then I hope for a timely recovery and do send for Bellatrix on your way back to your room. I have need of her."
"Of course, my lord," Rookwood acquiesced warily as he exited.
They were almost as cautious of the woman as they were of him, and with good reason. Bellatrix was prone to outbursts of anger, though he had not seen such since she had been freed. In truth, he had seen little of her at all. It was beginning to cause him concern.
Before her incarceration, he had to outright dismiss her to even have space to breathe without her presence. Now, she was seldom seen, having stuck to her own rooms from when they had arrived.
She was not the same woman and the thought made him sigh. Out of all those that had been incarcerated, she had been affected worst of all. Her spirit and body had seemingly both been broken, something he thought to be impossible. She had once been his most zealous and all that remained of her was nothing but a shadow.
If fortune favoured her, she would find her way once again. If not, she was still his most gifted and loyal follower and not something he would easily forget. She had served him well in the past and he hoped she would do so once again.
"Come, Bella," he greeted as she arrived, her posture tense and her eyes darting around the room as though she expected treachery. "How are you?"
"I'm d-doing well, my l-lord," the acknowledgement of his title given as an afterthought.
"No, you are not," he disagreed. "You have been here for days and are not yourself."
"I apologise, my lord. Azkaban has taken much from me."
"More than others, from what I can see," Voldemort sighed. "Tell me, Bella, what is it you need so that I can see you at full health?"
"Just, some time, my lord. I will be ready to serve you again soon enough."
He looked upon her with uncertainty, though he would give her the benefit of the doubt. Her years of loyalty and deeds done had earned her that at the very least.
"Very well," he decided as he approached her. "Take all the time and rest you need."
The shudder that ran through her as he touched her arm was not easily ignored. It was not one of delight as it had once been, but one of fear, of uncertainty.
"You may leave."
She did so quickly, and he frowned at her retreating back.
"What has happened to you, my sweet Bella. What have they done?" he muttered to himself.
(Break)
Harry entered the kitchen of the Delacour beach home to the smell of baking pastries and the sight of Fleur pouring herself a cup of coffee. He was taken aback by her attire, never having seen her only dressed in shorts and a crop top, her hair still wet from where she had recently showered.
He had seen her dressed similarly during the second task, but he had paid no mind to it, his thoughts solely focused on what he was to do. Even during their previous visit here, she had been rather more conservative.
He dragged his eyes away from her shapely legs, scolding himself for being distracted by such a thing and took a seat at the table.
"Morning, 'Arry," she greeted him with a smile before kissing him gently.
He shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"What's all this?" he asked, gesturing to the plates she had placed on the table.
"I'm making you breakfast," she answered simply.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Non, but I wanted to," she replied, offering him another smile as she removed the croissants from the oven.
She placed them on the table along with the pot of coffee and helped herself to one of the steaming pastries.
"Does that not burn?" he questioned with a frown.
She shook her head and took a bite.
"I am a veela, 'Arry, the heat does not bother me," she reminded him.
"Well, I think I'll let them cool down a little. I don't fancy any blisters."
She giggled at him as she finished her first and took a second.
"Do your parents know we are here?"
Fleur shrugged.
"They are not 'ome. They 'ave gone away for their anniversary and Gabrielle is with our grandmother. It doesn't make any difference if we are there or 'ere."
"I suppose not," he conceded. "What would you like to do today?"
"We are going to do nothing today," she declared. "We can sit on the beach or go for a swim, but we came 'ere so you can relax for a couple of days, non?"
"That sounds good," he agreed.
It felt liberating to be away from the castle, from Umbridge and the responsibilities he carried. Doing nothing for once would be a welcome change.
Seeing that his breakfast was now at a reasonable temperature, he helped himself to one of the croissants and poured himself some coffee. It was not often he indulged in often, but he had acquired quite the taste for it over the many breakfasts he had shared with the Delacours.
"How did the staff meeting go?" he asked, having not done so the night before.
They had all but arrived and took to their rooms, the fatigue from the week having caught up with them.
"Madame Umbridge proved to be an idiot," Fleur sighed. "She thought that she could threaten me," she added with a laugh.
"She did what?" Harry seethed, his hands clenching tightly.
"Shh," Fleur comforted as she slid onto his lap, stilling him. "You do not need to worry, 'Arry. If she wants to provoke me, she will not like the outcome, and I told 'er that."
She placed a finger under his chin and raised it so they were looking in each other's eyes.
"I may not be you, but I can 'andle myself, non? I love 'ow protective you are of me, 'Arry, but I do not need you for this, oui?"
He swallowed deeply and nodded, aware of her warm breath trailing down his neck at every exhale.
She gave him an innocent smile and kissed him once more.
"You should never threaten a veela, it is not something we take kindly to. Now,", she continued as she stood, "when you are finished eating, get ready and come outside. It is a nice day today."
He watched as she left the room and wondered just what had happened. Once again, she'd had his undivided attention and he had been intoxicated by the mere presence of her. It had not been her allure, he had grown used to that, but he was drawn in by her, nonetheless.
Shaking his head, he finished his breakfast and went to his own room where he dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt. It was much warmer here than back in Britain and he planned to enjoy the respite from the rain and wind whilst he could.
Feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin was blissful and he removed his shirt to enjoy the full effect. Although it was not as hot as it had been during the summer months, it was much more so than any other November he had experienced.
With no sign of Fleur, he placed his shirt on the back of a sun lounger and took a seat whilst he waited, though it was not a long one.
She appeared only a few moments later and he once more found himself attempting to drag his eyes away from her. Gone were her shorts and crop top in favour of a red bikini, her long silvery hair wavy from where it had begun to dry. He had always known that she was beautiful. He was inexperienced in the ways of women but even his ignorance did not exceed that boundary of foolishness. She had always been a sight to behold but had always been much more reserved than she was now, and try as he might, he could not shift his gaze.
To him, and likely many others, she was enchanting but to him it was different. He did not simply admire her for her beauty, though that was hard to ignore in this moment. He had come to know her; her sense of humour, her brilliance and what she cared for.
Despite the difficulty in doing so, he managed to avert his eyes as she drew closer. He did not want to be like the others, the ones that only saw her for what she was without seeing beyond that veil of her heritage she wore so proudly.
Her form cast a shadow over him, but it did not stop him feeling warmth. Now, it was another kind, one that she filled him with. It could be the coldest day, and yet, he would still feel it.
"If I did not want you to look at me, 'Arry, I would not 'ave dressed like this," she murmured before walking towards the sea. She looked over her shoulder without stopping, her hair blowing in the breeze as she gave him a sultry smirk. "You're not going to make me swim alone, are you?"
He followed her tentatively and watched as she submerged herself briefly before surfacing and pushing her hair away from her face. The water was not so warm at this time of year but the coolness of it served to sober him from the thoughts he was having. Still, he remained enthralled by her as he too sunk into the depths and emerged only a few feet away from her.
"So, what do you think?" she asked, running her hands down her sides.
It took him a moment to realise that she was waiting for an answer and he swallowed as he nodded, not wanting to see whatever insecurities she held surface more than they already were from the absence of his words.
"You look amazing," he answered honestly, though he could not keep his voice steady.
She nodded gratefully as she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He stiffened slightly at the difference in her touch. Before, it had always been affectionate with no hesitation. This was something else. It was as though he was being tested in a way he never had.
"It's okay to want me, 'Arry," she whispered against his lips. "I want you to want me. Is that wrong?"
She needed him to speak, to assure her that what she was doing was not without mutuality, to know what it was he thought of her in such a way.
"I don't want you to think I am like the others…"
"I do not," she interjected, "but I am still a woman, 'Arry. I want you to look at me that way, I want to feel wanted. I need to know that it is not just me that wants this."
"It's not," he mumbled as he met her smouldering gaze. "I just don't know what I'm doing here."
She smiled and shook her head.
"Neither do I, but this feels right to me," she replied. "I am French, and I am a veela. We are passionate creatures, 'Arry."
"I know."
"I do not think you do," she denied. "There is much more to us than what you can read in a book. You cannot truly understand us until you know both sides of us."
"Then why don't you tell me?"
"I'm scared," she answered simply. "I am scared that if you know it, you will not be able to accept it. That side to me, it is a part of me, and I cannot change it."
"And you shouldn't have to. I wouldn't ask you to."
"I know, 'Arry, but it is there and not something that can be ignored. Just like you 'ad Tom, I 'ave my own thing I carry. She is a creature, she cannot be tamed nor can she be reasoned with. She is there and always will be, and she will fight for what she wants."
He smiled unwittingly.
"What is it she wants?"
"She wants you, 'Arry. She calls for you."
He nodded his understanding.
"And what do you want?"
"I want you just as much as she does," she admitted. "She would 'ave me claim you for us and, one day, she will get what she wants."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
She shook her head.
"Non, but she is still a creature, 'Arry. She is possessive, jealous and will act irrationally. It is a fight to keep 'er at bay and not one I can win forever. You saw a glimpse of 'er when we duelled and she 'urt you because you 'urt us."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"I don't want you to fight her if it is making you something you are not. She should be free, you shouldn't have to keep her hidden, not from me."
She gave him a relieved smile.
"I'm still me, 'Arry, there's just more than what I let anyone else see. She is a strength as much as she is a weakness but one I am proud of and one I do not want to keep from you. I cannot even if I wanted to."
"Then don't," he urged. "If there is anything I need to do to help then just say. If there is something that she needs, then tell me."
"She just needs to feel safe and wanted, 'Arry, just like me. She wants to be accepted, every part of 'er."
"I can do that," he promised.
"Are you sure? Because she is a creature, 'Arry, and creatures think of little more than sustenance, nesting and…other things," she added in a whisper before she gently bit his bottom lip.
His eyes widened in surprise.
"We are passionate," she reminded him, emphasising the last word. "The reputation we 'ave is not for nothing but is known for all the wrong reasons. We do 'ave that side to us. It is something you will 'ave to get used to. She is proving to be a needy creature and she wants you for 'er own. You already 'ave my 'eart, but one day soon, I want you to 'ave all of me. She wants you to 'ave all of us both."
"Bloody hell," he muttered, unable to ignore the way her eyes shifted into a more avian shape.
"I'm sorry, 'Arry, but she will get what she wants eventually. I will get what I want."
He nodded, words failing him.
"You only 'ave yourself to blame," Fleur sighed. "You 'ave accepted us and she knows it now."
"What about what you want?" he asked, a frown marring his features. "Are they not different things?"
"Oh, I want what she does. I am her and she is me. We are quite the team, non?" she whispered as she nipped just below his ear.
He snorted amusedly.
"Why do I feel like I've opened myself up to a lot of trouble?"
"You did that a long time ago, you just didn't know it yet."
He shook his head.
"Well, what is it you both want now?"
Fleur giggled.
"She would 'ave me devour you but I just want to enjoy this, for now," she said, gesturing between them both. "If I let 'er free, there would be no going back for me, 'Arry. I don't think I can already."
The words of both Sebastien and Aline had never rung truer to him than they did in this moment.
" It is not something that can be ignored. You must love every part of them, even that untameable creature that is within them… She will give you 'er 'eart fully… Are you prepared for that?"
He was. Out of everything he faced, this was the one thing he felt ready for.
"You won't ever have to."
She melted into him, breathing a sigh of relief at how readily he had accepted her, all of her. She had been terrified that he would not be able to understand, that he would not be able to accept that part of her. She had never been so happy to have been proven wrong, and as she stood with her head resting against his chest, she promised herself that she would cherish this moment, even more so than the night of the ball when she held the rose that yet remained warm to the touch.
(Break)
It was raining here, the weather seemingly matching his own mood. It was seldom he felt such solemnity, assured in himself as he was for the most part. What plagued him, however, was something new, something he had no experience of, and he found himself turning to the one he never thought he would again for help.
Nicholas would have been preferable, but he had not heard from him in several years and found it had not been possible to make contact. It was not an unusual occurrence. The man had the habit of becoming unreachable when he set to work on a new venture. This, evidently, was one of those times.
As such, he found himself looking up at the intimidating structure, arguably the most secure building in the known world, its creator having not settled for anything less to house his prisoners. It was poetically ironic that it now housed him and had done for just shy of five decades.
With a nod of acceptance, he ascended the stairs and entered the building, the overwhelming magic of the wards as oppressive as he remembered. Though he had not been here since he placed his former friend in his cell, it was not a feeling he would forget so easily.
"This is quite the surprise," the guard greeted him in broken English.
"I'm afraid my mind is not what it once was. I have no recollection of you."
"Wilfred," the man introduced himself. "I now guard the prison after my father died."
"Aktar has passed on?"
The man nodded.
"Ten years ago. He remained at his post until his final breath."
"I am sorry to hear that. He was a good man and suffered much. The loss of your mother hit him hard."
"It did, but he did his duty as do I. This place is all I have but I would have it no other way. Someone must remain, to ensure that he does not find a way out."
"Your service is invaluable. Does he cause you trouble?"
Wilfred shook his head.
"He is quiet for the most part. He is fed and spends his days reading, lamenting on what he calls his years of glory. He sickens me, but I have kept the vow my father gave. He has not and shall not be harmed without cause."
"What about the others?"
"Dead. I buried the last three-years-ago. He did not shed a tear for any of them."
"I would expect nothing less, but I would see him."
"Of course, I shall take you to him."
Dumbledore nodded gratefully and followed the man as he led him through the veritable labyrinth of corridors, up several flights of stairs and down even more. Were it not for Wilfred, any who entered would be lost and unable to find their way as the magic here dictated.
"He is in there. Call for Greta when you are done and she will send for me."
Dumbledore nodded as the man took his leave, thankfully giving him privacy to discuss what needed to be.
Looking through the bars of the cell, it was hard to believe the withered man within had once been considered the scourge of Europe, had once been perhaps the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth. The mighty inevitably fell and the story had been no different for Gellert. What remained was but a shadow of what he once was, a very old and faded one at that.
"I did begin to wonder if I would perish before you had the guts to face me, old friend," he spoke, his voice still retaining its vibrant lilt.
"Do you still consider me such?"
Grindelwald turned to face him, a speculative look gracing his features.
"A friendship such as ours could never be spoiled by such a frivolous thing as war, Albus. We fought, I lost," he added with a shrug. "You were always the better of us both. Even with the wand I could not stand against you."
Dumbledore released a deep sigh.
"But your mind was always the sharper and you were no less talented, Gellert. I simply knew you better than you did me. It is because I cared more than you that I was victorious."
"And there is the sentimentalism in you that I could never rid you of. What did become of it? I do wonder."
"I carry it with me, not for the power, but to remind me that no man is perfect and to seek such is a foolish errand. We are all as infallible as the next and our desires are to our detriment."
Gellert guffawed and clapped in amusement.
"You always did have a way with words, but I do wonder why you are here? Surely it is not to relive our youth nor heal wounds that we no longer carry? You are not one to reopen them either, so what brings you here, Albus.? For once, I would have you speak frankly."
"Very well," Dumbledore conceded. "I have come to discuss another Dark Lord, this one a former student of mine. He is dangerous, Gellert, as talented as us and his darkness knows no bounds. He has, done things that I doubt even you would have considered."
"What things?" Grindelwald asked curiously.
"Horcruxes."
Gellert frowned.
"Horcruxes? Not the singular?"
"I'm afraid not."
The man cursed in his native tongue.
"Morgana only knows what such a thing would do to someone. How did you discover this?"
"He was defeated almost fifteen-years-ago by a babe, and he yet lives. He returned recently to a body not his own and will soon be ready to continue his plans. Many died during his first rise and I fear many more will follow."
"You said he was defeated by a babe?" Gellert questioned.
"Indeed, a boy of prophecy, one that has the power to defeat him; his equal. Tom killed his parents, but the boy survived the killing curse."
"And what became of this boy?"
"He is a student at my school, and I have not had one so exceptionally brilliant, but he is the reason I have come. I need to know, Gellert; What would the effects be if a Horcrux was to be created within a live vessel?"
Grindelwald had never only ever seen his friend so emotional and that had been when his sister had been killed. He did not know this boy nor this Dark Lord, but it was clear that Albus cared for him.
"Such a thing has never been tested but if the babe was exposed to magic like that, it would not be without a lasting effect," he mused aloud. "You worry that the soul has taken over him."
Dumbledore nodded.
"I do," he confirmed. "The two are so very similar, it is almost uncanny. Harry arrived at school having been raised by muggles. In less than a year, he was beyond his peers, and now, at the age of fifteen, he is teaching both charms and transfiguration and obtaining a mastery in both subjects."
"That is…impressive."
"He is but the similarities between him and Tom cannot be ignored. I believed he was the one to defeat him and now I question whether or not he is him."
Gellert nodded his understanding.
"Prophecy is not an exact magic, Albus, but creating one of those is," he pointed out. "Do you not want to believe it has taken hold of the boy because you fear there is no other that could defeat this Tom? Or is it that you believe it despite your fears?"
"I do not wish for it to be," Dumbledore admitted. "To do so would concede defeat. I myself am too old to win this fight. Tom would best me, even with the wand. Harry truly is our only hope."
"Then I fear your hope is foolish," Grindelwald returned. "If he does indeed carry a piece of the soul, then there is little chance that, as a babe, he would have been able to fight the influence of such magic. It is malignant in nature, Albus, and I can think of no conceivable way any, let alone a babe could resist it."
Dumbledore's head hung, his chin resting on his chest.
"I am sorry if that is not what you wanted to hear, old friend, but it is the only thing that fits. If he is as you say, just like him, then he must be him. If you wish to have any chance to defeat him, the boy must be dealt with."
"I do not think I can, Gellert."
"Then all is lost. He will win and you will pass from this world under his heel."
Dumbledore merely shook his head, his mind awash with uncertainty on how he should proceed.
"Is there no way to test him, to see if he has fallen under its influence? Perhaps he is still in there, a prisoner in his own body?"
"Perhaps, but are you willing to risk it, Albus? Are you willing to take the chance in tipping him off, give him the knowledge that you have acquired of him and what he has done? No, because it would be unwise."
"I do not know if I can even defeat the boy. I am old and tired, Gellert, past my prime by some considerable years. I grow weaker with each passing one. Fifty years is a long time, even for those who have lived as many as me."
"As it is for me, old friend. We are not long for this world, but you do have the choice in how you leave it. I will continue to rot within these walls until they claim me for their own. How will you go, Albus? As an old man fighting for his last breath in a bed not your own, or will you do what you always have and stand for what you believe in?"
Dumbledore met the blue eyes of the man before him.
"I do not know, Gellert. I have much to think on still."
"Then you must think quickly, Albus, before your choice is taken away from you."