Let it Snow
A/N
And here we have another chapter :)
Podcast this week will feature a collaboration between myself, Darkness Enthroned, The Endless7 and James Spookie.
We randomly selected characters from the HP universe and magical items to create some very weird ad highly entertaining story ideas, so do check that out when it is uploaded tomorrow.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter.
TBR
This is a special dedication to Mauser Teleri who spends his own precious time searching for my errors. Thank you, my friend, your efforts are appreciated!
Life had fallen into a rather uncomfortable lull for the past few weeks. Ever since Greyback had been killed, the almost nightly attacks had stopped. None had been reported but that did not prevent the continuous demands for the Minister to make a statement, to explain himself.
The Daily Prophet had continued printing articles about the state of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had successfully garnered the attention of wizarding Britain, who in turn, demanded the queries be answered by their leader. The Minister, however, had done all he could to avoid being scrutinised by the Wizengamot. Over the passing days he had allegedly been unwell, indisposed due to a pressing, urgent matter that required his attention and even left the country to attend a different, unavoidable meeting.
The mood of the public was turning rather ugly and it wasn't until the fourth summoning to meet with the Wizengamot that Fudge eventually agreed to attend. Not that he had much choice. Evidently, he had been hoping all would blow over and the matter would eventually be dropped, but with the persistence of the media and the demands of the public, it was not to be, and the Minister would finally answer for his negligence.
To Harry, it was too little too late. Cornelius Fudge, or whoever was pulling his strings had already succeeded in crippling the force that kept the country safe and any action against him would merely be a token gesture. At worst, he would find a way to scheme his way out of the trouble he faced and would walk back to his office to continue the charade of being a competent leader.
At best, he would be dragged from the Ministry kicking and screaming and another poor soul would be installed to right the wrongs of the current administration. Still, Harry expected little change and certainly not in a timely manner. Government came with red tape and unless someone was elected who could cleave through it with few problems, the Ministry would remain a useless entity when dealing with the Dark Lord for months at the very least.
He shook his head as he straightened his robes. Regardless of the outcome, he had no faith that a miraculous turn around would happen. Politicians would always be politicians to him; a lot of flowery words, empty promises and flat-out lies from those that supposedly represented the people.
"Why do I have to dress like this?" he grumbled.
Sebastien chuckled as he helped put the finishing touches to his robes.
"Because in less than two years, you will be one of them, 'Arry," he chided lightly. "I know you do not like it, but it is something you should take seriously. You can really make a difference."
"I don't want to be on the Wizengamot."
"Non, but you will 'ave to 'ave a proxy and you do not want them representing you poorly or voting to pass bills you do not agree with. I'm sorry, 'Arry, you 'ave been given responsibility and I know you are better than not living up to it."
He nodded reluctantly.
Sebastien had spent weeks schooling him on the world of politics and had even had him research the Potter's and Black's history of their time on the Wizengamot; the things they had voted for and the politics they subscribed to, something that left him frustrated.
The two families couldn't have been more different, and he found he had the impossible task of trying to live up to two opposing traditions. Sebastien, however, had urged him to start anew and use the power to forge his own path. The two families were to merge, so why shouldn't their policies?
He could see the logic in that thinking, but politics still held little appeal for him. He much preferred the blunt approach of the former Lord Black and would likely adopt much of it. He didn't have the patience for the political games people played.
"It is not so bad, 'Arry," Sebastien comforted. "You will be fine. Already, people look up to you and will listen to what you 'ave to say. If you truly despise the way wizarding Britain works, why not use what you 'ave to change it?"
He nodded once more. He knew he had experienced some of the worst elements that politics had to offer but there had to be something good about being on the Wizengamot. Perhaps he needed to speak to others beyond being on trial or seeing them the same way he saw Lucius Malfoy?
(Break)
He looked upon the gathered crowd within the chambers, his bowler hat pressed firmly on his head to avoid fidgeting with it from the nervousness he felt. How had this moment come? How was it that he was being forced into giving a speech to justify his actions from so many years ago? Had he not served them well over the years? Had he not sacrificed a decade and a half of his life to get them through one of the most difficult periods in recent history?
He took a calming breath as his anger threatened to overwhelm him, his eyes sweeping across the members of the Wizengamot, the public gallery that was filled to capacity with those hoping to see him stumble and the journalists in the media section.
Vultures. That's what they all were but he would not fumble, not now.
Finally, he looked towards Lucius, the man who had helped his career along more than any, his friend and confidant when he found himself in need, such as times like this.
When the doors to the chamber closed, he stood and cleared his throat.
"I have heard your pleas and stand before you as I always have, a humble servant of yours," he began solemnly, offering a bow to those within the room.
A few smatterings of whispers could be heard, and he allowed them to pass before continuing.
"Now, I have been subject to many slanderous accusations over the past weeks and fully intend to clear my name of any wrong-doing. I have never nor ever will misappropriate ministry funds nor have I neglected any department under my care."
"The what about the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" a voice demanded. "Has their budget and numbers been reduced by the amount published in the Daily Prophet ?"
Cornelius winced at the question.
"The budget of the department has been reduced to coincide with the changing times over the past decade. When we were at war, the additional funding was needed, however, and as I am sure you will all agree, we have been at peace and retaining the auror force as it had once been is counterproductive. It is not necessary to have as large a contingent as was required during the war."
Lucius gave him a subtle nod of approval, the two of them having rehearsed that answer until it fell from his mouth with practiced ease.
"Well, it was a foolish move as has been proven by the latest spat of werewolf attacks," Lord Doge declared loudly. "How has the department been allowed to deteriorate to where it cannot respond to what is a significant danger in time to, at the very least, mitigate the damage done. It is unacceptable."
His words were met with a resounding cheer of agreement from his fellow Lords, Ladies and the members of the public.
"How did Greyback and his pack even get here?" Lord Ogden followed up. "Surely, the ICW keeps track of them across the continent."
"You are correct, Lord Ogden," Dumbledore acknowledged. "The magical communities of Europe have been tracking them and informed the office of the Minister some weeks ago that they were heading in this direction."
Cornelius glared at the Chief Warlock, his scaremongering having become a constant irritant since the end of the Triwizard tournament.
"You said yourself, Dumbledore, that they were reported to be merely heading in this direction. We were not advised they had arrived."
"No, but the attacks should have been quite the clear indicator," Augusta Longbottom interjected heatedly. "The Ministry dropped the quaffle on this one, there is no denying that."
"Because, clearly, they do not have enough aurors to meet the needs of the country," Lord Boot piped up, "and evidently, not the funding to hire more. How is Madame Bones supposed to do her job effectively when the failures begin at the top?"
Cornelius visibly cringed as a cacophony of cheers met his statement. How was he supposed to placate them if they would not listen?
"I hear what you are saying, Lord Boot, but I must disagree. We are in a time of peace and the incident with the werewolves was an isolated series of attacks that has since stopped."
"Bollocks," an elderly man in the public gallery shouted as he stood. "Tell that to the muggle village over from mine that was attacked by giants. I might be old, but I know what I saw."
The whispering began once more, this time frantic and irritable.
"Preposterous," Cornelius denied.
The werewolf attacks had been difficult to believe, but giants?
"And did you report this incident?" Amelia questioned the man.
"I did and the auror, Haskins or something, called me a barmy old git and that it had been a storm. Let me tell you, it was giants, I saw them myself."
Cornelius scowled as the journalists began scratching away with their quills, undoubtedly penning tomorrow's headline.
"Then I will personally speak with you when we are finished here. I am very interested in what you have to say," Amelia offered.
The man nodded gratefully and retook his seat.
"Putting thoughts of giants on hold, I would like to know how the Minister intends to proceed? Will he reinstate the budget to bolster the department or will he give us an excuse not to do so?" Lord Greengrass questioned.
It was a poignant query and one Cornelius had expected, though the jab about excuses was below the belt.
"For what reason would the former budget be reinstated?" Lucius returned, standing from his place next to him. "As the Minister has rightly pointed out, we are not at war and the incidents with the werewolves have ceased since the night Greyback was killed."
"Something that it took a member of the public to achieve," Lord Greengrass bit back. "What kind of society are we living in when it is an untrained citizen that has to put a stop to things like this? The department must receive sufficient funding because clearly, what they are getting is not enough."
"And what of this citizen? They have done our country and many others a great service and should be recognised for their efforts," Lord Diggory added before the Minister or Lucius could respond.
Again, another cheer went up, most of the room in agreement with the sentiment.
"This person has not come forward," Cornelius explained. "I do, however, agree that should they be found, they should be recognised."
He couldn't care less, in truth. This person is the one that had likely caused the probing he faced today, but if it somewhat calmed the Wizengamot and public, it was a gesture he would make.
"The person has come forward, Minister," Amelia corrected, "and I believe he is here today."
"Then who is it?" he huffed.
His heart sunk as a familiar figure stood within the public gallery, worst yet, the man seated to his left was also familiar and not a welcome sight. Judging by the look of surprise Lucius wore, this would not end well and the loathing he already felt for the Potter boy increased tenfold in this moment.
Once more, he was going to prove to be a thorn in his side and one whose threat grew with each passing year.
"That would be me," he announced.
(Break)
"You?" Fudge questioned disbelievingly.
Harry nodded, revelling in the discomfort of the man.
"I can give you a very detailed rundown of how I killed him, if you like?" he offered. "Or I could even share the memory with everyone here?"
His gaze shifted around the room where all eyes were on him. He hated it, despised it even, but his growing reputation could one day be the needed influence to urge the Ministry to act against Voldemort when the time was right.
"That won't be necessary, Mr Potter," Madame Bones answered. "I have seen the evidence for myself and am satisfied that you are indeed the one who deserves the credit."
Harry offered the woman a respectful bow and turned his attention back towards the Minister, who for once, appeared to be lost for words.
"The future Lord Potter should be given the Order of Merlin," Lord Boot declared, shooting Harry a warm and grateful smile.
"Hear, hear," another Lord he did not recognise agreed.
His attention was unexpectedly drawn to Sebastien who stood next to him and the man gave him a conspiratorial wink.
"Not many of you will know me, but I am Sebastien Delacour and I am the French representative of the ICW," he introduced himself. "Mr Potter 'as done France and many other countries a great service, 'as been successful where we 'ave all failed in the past. My government recognises this and will bestow upon 'im our greatest honour. 'E will be rewarded with le Medaille la vaillance, as is fitting for his deed."
A round of applause sounded at the announcement and Harry looked at Sebastien questioningly.
"I did tell you that many countries would want to reward you. France is no different."
Harry shook his head as the man smiled brightly.
"You did this on purpose," he accused as Sebastien joined in with the clapping.
"I did," the man admitted. "You are dating my daughter, 'Arry, it is my job to make life difficult for you, non?"
Harry could only huff in annoyance.
"You still do not understand 'ow great your deed was, 'Arry. You are only getting what you deserve," Sebastien whispered as the applause began to wane.
"Then he should be given the Order of Merlin," Lord Macmillan declared.
"First class," Lord Ogden added enthusiastically.
The Minister appeared to have swallowed something rather unpleasant as he held up his hands for silence.
"Are there any objections to the notion?" he asked.
"Anyone would be a fool to," Sebastien mumbled.
"Then it shall be done," Fudge agreed reluctantly when none were voiced.
Another cheer sounded at the declaration and Harry shifted his gaze to Lucius Malfoy who was pointedly ignoring him, his own focus anywhere but on the teen.
Little did the man know that Harry was paying much closer attention to him than he had previously. For several nights, he had been at the Malfoy home assessing the wards and trying to find a way to breach them, to no avail thus far. They were complex, old and deeply rooted. It would be quite the feat to enter the property undetected.
The mere sight of the Malfoy patriarch sickened him, but it could not be denied that much investment had been made to secure his property, that he would acknowledge. Still, he would find a way. He simply had to.
"I am interested to know," Fudge called up the din, the crowd silencing as the Minister spoke, "just how it was you came to be there, Mr Potter."
Harry had prepared accordingly for this question, knowing Fudge would do all he could to either discredit him or implicate another in his presence. Before he could speak, a harsh voice responded.
"What's all this, Minister?" a large bearded man Harry did not know questioned. "We should be bloody grateful Potter was there, not starting an inquisition."
Harry offered the man a polite nod but gestured that he was fine with answering.
"There is a shop near the village. I have developed a taste for the chocolate the man stocks and I was in the area buying some when I heard the commotion. It wasn't hard to miss with all the screaming."
The Minister gave him a look of incredulity and Harry eyed him challengingly.
"You can check with the shopkeeper if you like. I was there and he will be able to verify it."
He would too. Harry had taken the time to go to the shop and add a few needed memories should Fudge take him up on his offer.
"That won't be necessary," Madame Bones interjected. "Mr Potter has submitted a statement which has been checked."
"Thank you, Madame Bones, but I am not the reason the people have gathered here," Harry replied, his glare not leaving the Minister. "I am honoured to accept the award you wish to give me and I know it will be another year before I stand amongst you, but forgive me, aren't we here to ascertain why the DMLE was not able to deal with the werewolf problem?"
"Indeed," the same bearded man called aloud. "What I would like to know, is what happened to the funds that were cut from the department over the years. Albeit for me to side with Skeeter," he added distastefully, "but she raises an interesting point. What was the money spent on?"
Fudge frowned at the man and then at Harry before a look of nervousness overcame him.
"Well, some was spent on building the Quidditch Stadium for the World Cup and the rest was distributed where and when it was needed."
"You will need to be specific, Minister," Lord Greengrass insisted. "We as the Wizengamot put a lot of trust in you, but you remain answerable to us as we are to the people we represent."
Fudge sighed deeply.
"I cannot be expected to know where every last knut went!"
"That is your job!" Greengrass countered.
"It is not information I have on hand," Fudge replied angrily.
Greengrass hummed as he nodded thoughtfully.
"Then I suggest we adjourn and reconvene when that information is made readily available for review. I think the sixth of January gives the Minister more than enough time to locate and arrange it."
"I agree," Lord Boot offered.
"Do we have any objections?" Dumbledore put to those in attendance.
"I will need more time!" Fudge despaired.
"You have a month, Minister," Lord Ogden pointed out. "I'm sure it is not a task that should take any longer than that."
"If there are no objections?" Dumbledore pressed.
Fudge looked around the room almost desperately, his eyes pleading for someone to come to his rescue.
"Then I call this meeting to an end with the intention of us resuming on January sixth as agreed by those gathered," Dumbledore announced.
With a thump of his gavel, the meeting was brought to an end and Harry took his leave with Sebastien amongst the rest of the crowd, avoiding the requests from the media to speak with him.
"He will use that month to find a way to wriggle out of it."
"He will," Sebastien agreed, "but you did well today, Harry. I am very proud of how you remained composed. You could be quite the force, and when you defeat Voldemort, nothing would stop you taking his job if you wanted it."
Harry snorted, unable to think of anything worse than being Minister. He would sooner shovel Hippogriff dung than surrender himself to that responsibility. He'd acquired enough of that throughout the last months.
(Break)
Her hands trembled as she clutched the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. She was beyond furious with the headline, more so by the fact that she could not deny the truth of it rather than the content itself. How could she when Cornelius himself had acknowledged it?
Her jaw clenched at the photo they had printed of Potter standing proudly in the public gallery of the Wizengamot chambers.
How could Cornelius do this? How could he accept that the boy was a hero when he was nothing more than a filthy reprobate?
She had seen the murderous intent in his eyes the night Dumbledore had intervened when she had accosted him in the corridor, and for a moment, she truly felt he would try to kill her. Had he made the attempt; she would have had him locked up in Azkaban for the rest of his days. He would never have seen the light of day again. However, that had not come to pass, and now, the boy was being rewarded.
She threw the paper in the fire behind her desk. She certainly would not be praising him. She had seen what he was like, had witnessed the evil within him and she was determined to expose it to the world and finally prove to them all that he was nothing more than a lying, conniving bastard.
Her eyes drifted to her top drawer where she kept her selection of quills. Perhaps she should have used them on him sooner. Maybe he would have learned his place by now?
She shook her head of the thoughts.
As much as she would relish in seeing him suffer in such a way, it was not to be so. The boy was too defiant and would not fall into line with that method.
That did not mean that others wouldn't, and a grin formed as she pondered the possibilities. Often enough she had students in detention that seemingly did not learn from their past transgressions.
Perhaps the time was drawing near to doll out harsher punishments? It may be then that they learn that the system must be adhered to.
(Break)
Being on the open sea was not something he had ever envisioned himself doing and not something he would do again if he could avoid it. The churning of the waves left him feeling rather sick, but he reminded himself that it would all be over in only a few shorts hours. For four days he had navigated the waves along the west coast of the United Kingdom, France, Spain and Portugal. Were it not for magic, it was a journey that would take much longer and he was grateful that was not so. Once more, he reminded himself that it would all be over soon.
The day had finally come, one that had been weeks in the making. The preparations had been exhaustive, meticulous and all for the sake of a serpent that had lived much longer than he could ever hope to; and every painstaking moment had been worth it.
He had pondered the quandary for days and he had finally settled on a method to transport her. Despite Sebastien's warning, a boat was his best hope. She would need considerable space and he had managed to purchase an old fishing trawler to accommodate her. As it had been, it was barely seaworthy, but a few spells and magical adaptations later, and it was perfect.
The difficulty had been devising a way for Serana to make it to the west coast of Scotland where it had been moored. He had decided on a two-way tracking charm, one on the boat itself, and another on a large collar he had transfigured to fit around her neck. All she would need to do was allow it to lead her and she would make it there.
The difficult part had been mapping a route she could take where she was least likely to encounter any people. It would not do for any to be inadvertently killed as she travelled across the country.
Much to his relief, she had made it and had spent the past days in the hull of the boat, hissing excitedly by the prospect of seeing her new home. In many ways, it was like dealing with a child, but he took it in his stride and often found himself laughing, or at he very least, amused by her anticipation.
He would never forget the happiness she had exuded when he had explained his plan to her, revealed that she would be leaving the castle. She had been ecstatic, and even during his bouts of seasickness, he had not once regretted his decision.
Much to his surprise, getting her out of the school had been the easiest part of the task, thanks in large to Umbridge's ridiculous rule system. With only two prefects on duty and the map handy, he and Serana had exited through the front door with the snake having reached the Entrance Hall via the pipes.
A broken wall had needed to be hastily repaired, but none would be the wiser to what had happened.
From there, it had been a simple trip through the forest where they had met nothing, and he was able to send her on her way to where the boat was waiting. She had arrived only a day later, having had a thankfully uneventful trip.
That had been four days ago, and since then, the two of them had been at sea, heading to the island Harry now called home.
" We will be arriving shortly," he explained, his lips and skin dry from the salty spray.
She said nothing but hissed gently her understanding.
They would be too and late in the afternoon as he had planned. It would give him time to make the adjustments to the tracking charm so it would lead her to his home, something that should take only take and hour or so from when they moored up.
Doing so would have been impossible without the help of magic, but he managed it with a few charms, and after checking that this part of the coast was clear, he had her come ashore where he marvelled at her size and beauty.
She was enormous, perhaps the most dangerous animal in existence, yet, so gentle also. She hissed contentedly at the feel of the sand on her belly as slithered across the beach leaving trenches in her wake.
" It is warm here, Tom."
" It is," he agreed, happy to watch her enjoy her newfound freedom for a time.
Internally, he celebrated the success of the undertaking, having had doubt that it could be done. Fleur had been the only one he had shared his plan with, and though she had urged caution, she had been very supportive. He couldn't be certain that would remain when she eventually met the basilisk, but that was a bridge he would cross when he reached it. For now, he was simply happy that he had been able to grant Serana a final wish.
For the rest of her days, she would be free to roam his land, feed on whatever she found in the forest and live in comfort.
Neither of them could ask any more than that.
(Break)
Christmas had once been his favourite day of the year. He enjoyed the presents, the lights and even the muggle music when Lily had introduced him to it, but it had been many years since he had indulged in such.
Of course, for twelve of them, he had been locked up in Azkaban and the previous two since he had been freed, had not been so memorable.
His first year of freedom had seen him spend it alone in a cave and his feast had been nothing but what remained of a chicken carcass he had scrounged and a half-eaten mince pie.
He'd had much higher hopes for last year, but again, it was not meant to be. Harry had found himself embroiled in the Triwizard tournament and Remus had been suffering the aftereffects of the full moon. The two of them had spent the day in relative silence and the werewolf had, apologetically, gone to bed early.
Sirius had understood, of course. His condition seemed only to worsen the older he got, or it was that he no longer had the Marauders to help him through his transformations. Regardless, the day had not been what he had envisioned.
This one, however, would be different. Harry was coming for Christmas lunch with the two of them and the full moon had been over a fortnight ago so Remus would be in fine form.
Sirius was in good spirits, and as such, had decided that he would cook dinner personally. How difficult could that be?
Lily had done it for Harry's first Christmas with the boy rested on her hip. Surely, he could manage it without the hindrance of a baby that never sat still.
He laughed as a memory surfaced from that very day.
"Do you remember when Harry tipped the gravy boat over Lily?" he asked Remus.
The werewolf snorted amusedly.
"I do," he confirmed. "She swore he had done it on purpose and blamed James for him being mischievous."
"Well, what did she expect having a kid with him? I can only imagine what he would be like if things had been different."
Remus offered him a sad smile.
"They would have been happy, Padfoot," he assured him.
"Yeah, but things didn't happen that way."
"They didn't," Remus agreed, "but you're here as is Harry."
"But is he happy?"
Remus could only shrug.
There was so little of James and Lily in the boy and he too often wondered how different he would have turned out had they lived. He certainly wouldn't be out there killing werewolves or whatever else it was he got up to that they didn't know about.
"I think he is as happy as he can be, given the circumstances," he mused aloud. "Maybe when all this is over, he will be."
Sirius nodded as the sound of the front door opening caught his attention, followed shortly by the wailing of his mother.
"FILTH! DISGUSTING MUDBLOODS SULLYING MY GREAT HOUSE!"
"And a Merry Christmas to you, Mrs Black. I hope your death was painful and embarrassing, you washed up, old nutter," Harry replied before entering the kitchen. "I see she is on fine form as always."
Sirius sighed.
"Believe me, I have tried to get rid of that bloody painting. Whatever magic is holding it on won't budge."
Harry chuckled as he removed his coat and took a seat.
"I find her quite amusing," he commented. "It's not often you come across someone as creative with their insults as her. Maybe she is growing on me," he added with a frown. "We should give her to Dumbledore for Christmas, I'm sure he'd love that."
Sirius guffawed at the thought of the headmaster being constantly berated by his mother.
"From what we heard, you are more than capable of handling him," Remus broke in.
Harry frowned as he released a deep breath.
"You heard about that?"
Sirius nodded.
"He didn't go into specifics, but he spoke very highly of the fact that you beat him."
Harry shrugged as he shook his head.
"He's an old man now. There's probably a lot of people out there that could."
"But none your age," Remus countered. "Anyway, let's not spend our time together discussing those things today. We've already both told you how annoyed and proud of you we are for killing Greyback and now beating Albus."
They had too. Harry had received two letters, one from each of the men both praising him and chiding him equally. He had not known that Greyback had been the one that had cursed Remus, but it just made killing him more worthwhile.
"You have," he chuckled. "So, what's for dinner?"
"Probably nothing edible," the werewolf muttered. "He's cooking it."
"Oi, I can cook!"
"No, you can't," Remus denied. "Remember when you tried to cook for us on that muggle barbecue Lily brought? Honestly, Harry, it was like trying to eat a shoe."
"Only because you kept distracting me. 'Oh, Padfoot, I like my steak rare. Oh, Padfoot don't flip the burgers like that, they'll be dry," Sirius mocked.
"Was I wrong?"
Harry watched the back and forth between the two, amused by their antics, and as they continued, he noticed the dark smoke starting to curl out from within the oven.
"Bloody hell, you two are like a married couple," he sighed, "and, Sirius, something is burning."
The man turned and cursed under his breath as he put on a pair of pink, floral oven gloves.
"Ah, bollocks! See what you made me do, Moony?"
"Me? You were the idiot that wasn't paying attention! Bloody hell, that will be drier than those burgers."
Harry laughed as they continued bickering. There was something very wholesome about it. The two of them had been friends for decades, the last two of a close group of four. He felt for them both, having experienced loss after loss since they had left school. They only had each other now, and despite the constant griping, he had never seen two friends care for one another more. Although it was an unfamiliar novelty for him, he could not miss it.
"Alright, ladies," he sighed as Sirius began waving a ladle around, "put the handbags down."
His godfather removed what had once been a large leg of lamb from the oven and placed it on the table before slumping into his seat and staring at it sadly.
"It just meat, Sirius," Harry comforted.
The man nodded, his eyes not leaving the ruined main portion of the meal.
"I just wanted it to be perfect," he mumbled.
Remus shot him a look of understanding as a light frown marred Harry's features.
"The dinner?"
"Not just the dinner, everything," Sirius huffed. "I used to love Christmas and just wanted one that I would enjoy and remember," he added with a shrug.
Harry was taken aback by the uncharacteristic sullen demeanour and he looked towards the werewolf questioningly.
"The last Christmas he enjoyed was when you were a baby, the last one we shared with your parents," he explained.
Harry nodded his understanding. He hadn't realised the time of year meant so much to him.
"Well, what did you all do?" he asked.
Remus scratched his chin, a smile playing on his lips.
"Me, your father, Sirius and Peter," the last being added sourly, "made you a giant igloo in the garden, do you remember, Padfoot?"
Sirius nodded.
"Merlin it was crap until Prongs gave up and transfigured it. He even made statues of our animagus forms and a werewolf for you," he snorted.
"And Lily animated them," Remus reminded him.
"She did," Sirius confirmed, a slight smile forming. "Your face, you were amazed. I spent most of the afternoon making sure you weren't trampled by the stag as you crawled around the garden."
Harry grinned at the thought before his stomach sank. This was one of the things he hated about discussing his parents. It gave him false hope that he may one day experience these things, when in truth, it wasn't to be. It was a bittersweet feeling, but it did give him an idea.
"Then why don't we do it?"
"Do what?" Sirius asked.
"We could always make an igloo and the animals. I can do that. We can even go to Godric's Hollow and see them if you'd like?"
The two remaining marauders looked at one another, the werewolf nodding encouragingly.
"I think I'd like that."
"Me too," Sirius agreed, "but it's not snowing and likely won't be there either."
Harry shook his head.
"Are you not a wizard?"
Sirius rolled his eyes but stood, happier than he had been a few moments prior.
"Let me just pack some food and something to drink and we can go," he replied as he headed back to where the various pots and pans were bubbling away.
Remus gave Harry a grateful smile.
"He's been looking forward to today for weeks," he whispered. "He misses you, Harry."
Harry nodded his understanding as Sirius returned, gesturing that he was ready to leave.
"Let's go," he urged. "And, Moony? If you think about throwing a single snowball at me, I will make sure you do not get a peaceful night sleep for months."
Remus released a deep breath as he shook his head.
"For the last time, Padfoot, Prongs threw that snowball!"
"Hmm," Sirius responded disbelievingly as he left the kitchen followed by Harry and the werewolf.
(Break)
"I told you there wouldn't be any snow," Sirius grumbled as the trio reached the churchyard of the village.
Harry gave the man a look of exasperation as he drew his wand and began twirling it in intricate patterns, muttering under his breath. The Elder wand made easy work of the elemental spell, and soon enough, a thick and heavy snow began to fall, much to the amazement of the two men. In only a few moments, a blanket of snow had covered the ground and Remus shook his head at the teen.
"I don't know how you do it," he sighed. "Elemental magic is dangerous for even the most experienced wizards."
Harry shrugged as he took note of the cemetery in the distance. He had not visited his parents since the night his name had come out of the goblet and his life had changed in many ways in such a short period of time.
"We should go and see them," Sirius urged, following his godson's gaze. "I haven't been for a while myself."
"Why not?" Harry asked as he fell into step with the man and Remus.
Sirius offered him a sad smile.
"It's difficult facing them after what I did. They would have been furious with me."
Harry frowned at the answer. It was not something he had thought of much. The night Voldemort attacked, Sirius had chosen to go after Peter instead of care for him. One could argue that he had made a poor choice, and perhaps he had, but it had been one made in the heat of the moment. The man had lost the closest thing he had to a family and had acted rashly.
He could not be blamed for that.
Before he could voice his thoughts, they reached the pair of graves where James and Lily Potter rested, and a comfortable silence fell over them as they lost themselves in their own thoughts.
As it had during his first visit, the loss of them fell heavy on Harry and he allowed himself to think of what could have been had they lived. There had been a time when he was angry at them for dying, for leaving him to the fate they had.
Now that he was older, he understood. They had only wanted to keep him safe and had made the ultimate sacrifice to do so. His father had placed himself before the monster that had come for them with the hope his wife and son would be able to make it to safety.
It was not to be, and his mother had followed his father, perishing as she too tried to keep him safe.
His grip tightened around his wand as his fury rose.
"I'm going to kill the bastard," he seethed.
Sirius and Remus shared a look of concern as the temperature dropped further than the icy blast the boy had created, the fresh wave of coldness making them shiver.
"And we will be there to see it," Sirius declared firmly, eliciting a nod of agreement from the werewolf.
Harry offered them a grateful nod as his posture relaxed.
"That is for another day," he sighed. "They wouldn't want us wasting Christmas being consumed by something that will inevitably happen."
"No, they would not, Harry," Remus agreed, giving him a weak smile. "They would laugh at this idiot for burning the dinner and Lily would probably try to lecture him on what he did wrong."
"And James would come to my rescue," Sirius chuckled. "He was good at getting me out of trouble with her, when he wasn't too busy taking the piss."
"You make it sound like it happened a lot," Harry snorted.
Sirius nodded as he swallowed deeply.
"I loved your mother, Harry, but Merlin that woman could talk your ears off when she felt like it. Like when I got your father drunk the day we graduated, and he mooned Kettleburn. Somehow, that was my fault."
Remus laughed, his eyes full of mirth at the memory.
"That was your fault. You brought the whiskey and dared him to do it."
"I didn't expect him to be so willing," Sirius returned. "Bloody hell, I've never met someone so keen to bare his arse to the entire year group, their parents and the Professors."
"I thought your grandmother was going to put him across her knee in front of everyone," Remus chortled. "If it wasn't for your grandfather, she probably would have."
Harry smirked at the thought and shook his head.
"What were they like, my grandparents?" he asked. "Arcturus mentioned them when I spoke to him."
"They were the nicest people I have ever met," Sirius answered immediately. "Dorea wasn't like the rest of the Blacks, not unless you upset her. James was a lot like Charlus. He liked a good prank, but you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him. They took me in when I ran away and looked after me. We were all devastated when they died."
Remus nodded his agreement.
"They never let on that they knew about my condition, but they did and never treated me any differently and neither did your mum when she found out. She made jokes about me having a menstrual cycle," he added with a frown.
Sirius guffawed loudly.
"I remember that! She brought you those tampon things for your birthday."
Remus shook his embarrassedly.
"I thought my mother was going to faint when I opened those."
"Who knew that Evans had that in her?"
Remus smiled.
"She had a wicked sense of humour when you got to know her."
Harry nodded, once more saddened that he had not gotten to know them both.
"Anyway, shouldn't we make a start on this igloo?" Sirius suggested, noticing the slowly changing demeanour of his godson. "Merlin knows it will look like crap without Prongs here to fix it."
They set to work gathering piles of snow and forming them into dozens of blocks to create the construct. Harry had never done anything like this, not at Hogwarts and certainly not with the Dursleys. The only experience he had was shovelling it off the driveway and clearing it from Vernon's car so he could leave for work. That was something he had done gladly, anything to get the man from the house when he had been a boy.
"It does look like crap," Harry declared as they stood back and admired their handywork an hour or so later.
What they had created somewhat resembled an igloo, but one side of the roof would undoubtedly cave in with little prompting and the opening looked none to safe either.
"I think it is somehow worse than the first one," Remus muttered.
"Definitely," Sirius agreed as the weaker side of the roof collapsed inwards.
The three of them laughed heartily as their efforts crumbled before their eyes and Harry slid his wand into his cold hand.
"Then it is a good job we can fix it."
With a few waves of his wand, the eyesore became quite the thing of beauty. The roof had righted itself, the opening had stabilised, and the snowy bricks were evened out so that it resembled a rather cosy shelter.
"Bloody show off," Sirius huffed.
"That's not showing off," Harry replied as he went to work once more with his wand.
In a matter of moments, he had created three animals from the surrounding snow; a large dog, a werewolf and an enormous stag. With another few spells, they came to life and began chasing each other around the churchyard, much to the amusement of the two marauders.
"Now, that is showing off," he added when he was finished.
Sirius nodded appreciatively at the spectacle before him, the creations reminiscent of the very same ones James and Lily had collaborated on so many years ago.
"They're just like them," Remus commented as Sirius edged closer to where the were now playing boisterously.
"How did you…"
Sirius's question was cut off as a snowball collided with the back of his head.
He turned sharply towards Remus and Harry, his eyes narrowed as he tried to work out who had thrown the projectile, the cold, melting snow running uncomfortably down his back.
"It wasn't me," the werewolf denied immediately.
Sirius turned his attention towards his godson, the boy's face unreadable as he merely shrugged, provoking his ire further.
"One of you gits did it!"
"Just let it go, Padfoot," Remus sighed.
Sirius shook his head as he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, his gaze flitting between the two of them. However, before he could decide on who he was going to throw it at, something impacted against his back, sending him sprawling.
He sputtered as he scrambled to his feet to be faced with the stag, pawing at the ground challengingly. His eyes widened as it charged once more and he yelped as he took to his heels, running as fast as his legs could carry him, the laughter of Harry and Remus following him.
Not only did he have the rampant stag to deal with, the other two took it upon themselves to bombard him with snowballs.
"Oi, how is that fair?" he shouted as one whistled by his ear.
With a muttered curse, he transformed and turned on the spot, readying himself for a standoff with the animated beast. He snarled as it ducked its' head, avoiding the blow and diving onto its back. He tore at the snow, only for what he took away to be replaced.
"He is right," Remus mused aloud as he turned his attack towards the unsuspecting teen.
Harry was stilled by the snowball that exploded against the side of his head, and by the time he realised what had happened, the werewolf had managed to put distance between the two of them as he ran to help his friend.
With a shake of his head, Harry returned fire, catching Remus on the back of the neck as he continued running, brandishing his wand and trying to put an end to the determined stag.
He was partially successful, removing the legs with a well-placed cutting curse and alleviating his ally of the struggle he had become embroiled in. With the stag all but useless, the two retreated further away, undoubtedly to form a plan of attack.
Harry did not remain idle, and with a few waves of his wand, he had hastily erected barrier of snow he could hide behind. He prepared more snowballs as he waited, a wait that stretched on as each minute passed.
"What are they up to?" he mumbled as he cautiously peered over the top of his shelter, only to be hit in the head with another missile. "Bloody hell!"
The sound of laughter reached him, the two men having too much fun at his expense for his liking.
With a growl, he felt for them, not having seen where they had hidden themselves with the brief glance over the parapet he had gotten.
"Sneaky bastards," he snorted as he sent his snowballs on their way.
The pair had hidden amongst a small copse of trees, out of range from where their own offerings could be thrown without the use of magic. If they wanted to resort to such measures, he wold respond in kind.
Within a few moments, their screams sounded and they ran from their own cover as they were pelted with snow courtesy of Harry and the teen went to work once more with his wand, a fresh wave of screaming being heard as the remaining werewolf and dog creations went on the attack.
"Alright, we bloody give," Sirius shouted.
Cautiously, Harry peered around the edge of his wall, doubling over in laughter as he saw his godfather pinned down by the replica of his own animagus form. The dog was licking his face, and try as he might, the man could not fend it off.
Remus on the other hand had climbed a tree to avoid the werewolf that was pacing below him, waiting for him to come back down.
With a shake of his head, Harry ended his spell work as he walked over to help Sirius to his feet. The man shot him a look of frustration, but grinned as he accepted the offered hand.
"Cheater," he muttered.
"It was two on one," Harry defended, "and you used magic first."
"Remind me not to pick a fight with him again," Remus said breathlessly as he reached them, shooting a final furtive glance over his shoulder to ensure the werewolf had not followed him.
"I think you two old bastards need to sit down for a little while," Harry suggested, heading towards the igloo.
"Did he call us old bastards?" Sirius huffed.
"Let it go, I haven't got the energy to do another round of that," Remus sighed.
They followed the teen and joined him inside the igloo as he was lighting a fire. The both took a seat on the floor and allowed the warmth to wash over them.
"Maybe we are getting old," Remus chuckled as he held up his hands over the flames. "I'm knackered."
"Speak for yourself, Moony," Sirius laughed as he reached inside the pocket of his coat and withdrew a flask. "Here, get some of this down you," he encouraged, pouring the man a generous helping of hot chocolate and adding a measure of firewhiskey to the brew. "You too, Harry, but no whiskey. Lily would climb out of that grave and put me in one if I did."
Harry grinned as he accepted the drink and the three of them sat in a contemplative silence whilst they enjoyed the warming liquid.
"Are you happy, Harry?" Sirius asked after several minutes later.
Harry frowned as he looked at the man, wondering what he meant by the question.
"Just, with how things are. Are you happy with your life?" his godfather added.
"Why are you asking that?"
Sirius shrugged as he offered the boy a sad smile.
"I need to know," he replied sincerely. "When I was in Azkaban, I had all these plans on how things would be when I got out. I would come and get you and you would live with me. I'd be teaching you magic and, you know, just being there for you. It didn't happen that way, but as long as you're happy then I can live with that."
Remus offered his friend a look of sympathy.
"One day I will be," Harry answered honestly. "When he is dead, and I don't have all this hanging over me."
Sirius nodded his understanding.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "For not being there for you when I should have been. I've never said it before, and it is the least you deserve from me."
Harry shook his head.
"You made your choices, Sirius, and I can't hold those against you because I would have done the same. You weren't to know that you would be blamed for what happened to them. I'm not mad at you, I just didn't need you that way when you did get out. I'd been living alone for a while and taking care of myself since I was seven."
"I know," Sirius returned, "and I couldn't be prouder of you for how well you have done. James and Lily would kick my arse if they could, but they would be proud too. "
Remus nodded his agreement.
"What about the French girl?" he probed.
"What about her?" Harry asked defensively.
"Do you really need to ask, Moony," Sirius sighed. "He's just like Prongs. He'll probably marry her in a couple of years, and they'll have a little brat of their own."
Harry chuckled amusedly.
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because you're a lot more like them than you think," Sirius answered. "They couldn't wait to get married, and then you came along not long after. Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added.
"Well, what about you? Aren't you going to get married and do something with your life?" Harry fired back.
"I will when you come of age and take over the family," the man replied. "For now, I want to make sure it is in good order when that day comes. Even my grandfather is helping me, well, he insisted that I pull my finger out of my arse and get the affairs sorted for my heir," he explained with a scowl marring his features.
"He said that?"
Sirius nodded.
"You left quite the impression on him, apparently. He's had me dealing with the finances and collecting any owed funds from previous loans. I can't imagine Lucius will be pleased when I've finished calculating the amount he has withdrawn from the account over the years."
"Maybe you should wait until I become Lord," Harry suggested. "It will be more satisfying to hand him the papers in person."
"If he lives that long," Sirius replied with a shrug. "His luck will run out one day."
"When I next see him," Harry vowed. "Slimy git."
"I thought we weren't talking about this today?" Remus broke in.
"You're right, Moony," Sirius agreed as he poured them all some more hot chocolate. "This day is about us, until Harry disappears to France later to be with his woman."
"At least I've got one," Harry countered.
"He's got you there, Padfoot," Remus mocked.
"Bloody hell, I'm being outdone by a teenager," the man grumbled.
"Well, speaking of me going to France, Sebastien asked me to give you these," Harry explained as he retrieved to identical envelopes from his pocket and handed them to the men one each. "They are invites to the Delacour's New Year ball."
"We will be there," Sirius declared immediately. "It's a shame I don't have any embarrassing stories to share about you."
"Don't look at me," Remus sighed, "I've never seen him do anything embarrassing."
Sirius scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"What about when he tried breastfeeding from Dorea?" he asked.
Remus laughed uproariously.
"I remember that! The poor woman had a bruise on her chest for days after he bit her."
"I didn't do that," Harry huffed, his cheeks flushing.
"You did!"
"If you mention that, I'll neuter the pair of you, so you won't have to worry about getting a woman again!"
The two men continued to laugh, and Harry could not fight the smile that formed. It was not often he got to spend time with them, but it was moments like these he had begun to cherish.
(Break)
His eyes snapped open and he scrambled to free himself of the sheets that had been placed over him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to steady his breathing. It had been a dream, for he did not bear the marks that had been inflicted upon him, though he had felt every lashing of pain sent his way.
"Potter," he whispered.
Whatever the boy had done, he did not know, but it had left him at his mercy, had left him to be tortured by the boy and he had not held back. He knew not what magic he had fallen victim to, but it was not an experience he wanted to repeat.
But how? How had the boy managed what he had?
The Dark Lord pondered it for several moments until his eyes shifted to the empty bed next to his own and it fell into place. He had tried to help Bella with what was ailing her and had been attacked in the process. Potter must have done something to her, another quandary he needed to solve.
"Where is Bella?" he questioned the healer as the man entered, relief etching his features.
"I do not know, my lord," he answered. "I came in a couple of weeks ago and she was gone."
"A couple of weeks? How long have I been out?" Voldemort demanded.
"Three weeks, my lord."
His stomach sunk and he stood from his bed. Pacing back and forth, he tried to calm his raging thoughts. He needed to think clearly.
"Where did she go?"
"No one has seen her, my lord," the healer answered nervously. "She didn't tell anyone she was leaving or where she was going."
Potter must have had something to do with it, it was the only conclusion that made sense. He would worry about just how that had come to pass later. For now, he needed to find her. She could do unspeakable damage to him if she were to be captured.
"Send Rudolphus and Lucius to me immediately," he commanded.
"My lord, I must check you over…"
"I said now, you bumbling fool," the Dark Lord cut the man off irritably.
He complied with a nod and took his leave.
The matter was a pressing one. If, as he believed, Potter had gotten to Bella, who knew what he had gleaned from her.
"My lord, I am pleased to see you awake," Lucius greeted him with a bow as he entered the room with Rudolphus in tow.
"Where is Bella?" the Dark Lord demanded.
"I do not know, my lord, but I have people looking. She cannot hope to get far," Lucius assured him.
"Rudolphus?"
The man shrugged.
"I've not spoken to her since before we were in Azkaban," answered uncaringly. "Personally, I hope the bitch is dead."
" Crucio," Voldemort seethed, drawing his wand in one fluid motion.
Rudolphus screamed in agony under the effects of the curse and the Dark Lord revelled in the fact that he was not the victim of it this time.
"You had better hope she is found, Rudolphus or you will join her shortly," he warned. "Now, you will go to Gringotts and see if she has been. She will need gold and it is likely she took it from your vault. I want an accounting of everything she has taken."
"Y-yes, m-my lord," Rudolphus agreed before hobbling from the room.
"And what would you have of me, my lord?" Lucius asked.
Voldemort eyed the man for a moment before nodding.
"You will send your wife to me, Lucius. If anyone were to know where she is, it will be her."
Lucius appeared as though he would argue for split-second, before thinking better of it. His Lord was in no mood for any such defiance.
"Of course, my lord," he returned with a bow as he too took his leave.
The Dark Lord took a seat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. It was pounding and he would need a pain reliever soon. Still, he could still be sleeping and under the ministrations of Harry Potter.
Those dreams would haunt the man, but he could not act rashly, not until he understood the direness of the situation he faced, and the first thing he needed to do was establish just what had happened to Bellatrix.