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A/N
And that's another one in the books for you guys here.
The first chapter of my Harry/Narcissa fic has been posted and will begin to be uploaded here in the coming weeks.
This week, I will be joined by the very talented Sam Gabriel on the podcast, a voice actor who is turning his talent to creating audio versions of fanfiction stories.
As always, do check the other platforms and all info for those can be found on my profile.
I also do have a discord server for anyone who wishes to join that (Link also on my profile).
Anyway, do enjoy.
TBR
The Delacour home had played host to a variety of people coming and going since Boxing Day. Caterers, florists and even men delivering heavy and intricate ice sculptures had passed through the house as preparations for the ball had gotten underway.
For Sebastien, it had been a much more stressful process than was normal with the new wards he had installed. Over the passing days, he could be seen ferrying the people across the wards as he met and vetted each of those visiting the home to conduct their business.
It was not ideal and were it not for Apolline having looked forward to the event, he would have cancelled it this year. However, they had decided to continue and the inconvenience of setting up the ballroom had been managed with little difficulty.
The preparations, thankfully, were done and the man would only need to cross the grounds one more time to bring the guests across the wards, though they too would be vetted appropriately.
For Harry, the festive period had granted him a reprieve from all that was happening around him as the world seemingly came to a halt as it submerged itself in the festivities. Those festivities were now over; and he would soon be back to reality. Since the revelation of his involvement of Greyback's death had reached the public, he was now subject to whispers and pointing, his fame having reached higher heights than ever.
Much to his consternation, he had also started to receive fan mail, swathes of it from those wishing to congratulate him, some trying to curry favour and even those offering him their personal gratitude, their lives having been torn apart by the infamous werewolf. Thankfully, behind the Delacour wards, the mail had ceased, for now.
He had taken it in his stride as best he could, though fame was not ever something he would relish, even if it was earned from his own deeds. He would forever prefer a life of peace and anonymity, the latter being something he would likely never know.
Regardless, he still had a few more days of the reprieve to enjoy and he intended to do so. Fleur was excited about the ball and he too was looking forward to spending some time with her. Even though the holidays had come, both had been busy with their workload and hadn't had as much time together as they would have liked. They'd managed to enjoy Christmas evening but as Boxing Day had dawned, the house had been swarmed as it was readied for this one.
Ensuring he locked his bedroom door as he exited, he approached hers only a few down and knocked.
It opened a moment later and he smiled at the girl that greeted him. She had donned a sapphire gown and matching shoes, her wrist adorned by the bracelet he had gifted her.
"You look beautiful," he complimented as he offered her a rose.
She smiled brightly as she accepted it and threaded her arm through his.
He was nervous about tonight. Perhaps it was that he didn't have Tom to guide him through as he had the Yule Ball or that this meant more to him. He knew he needn't be, but he was.
"You look very 'andsome, 'Arry," she returned as they made their way towards the ballroom. "If you need some time away from it all later, then I will save you."
He nodded appreciatively at the gesture. He didn't like events such as these but would endure it for her. She loved balls and this was one of the few times she could enjoy one; the guest list having been compiled of those that Sebastien and Apolline knew personally.
As planned, they arrived when the party was already in full swing to avoid Harry being inundated with greeting dozens of people at the same time. Being the centre of attention was an awkward scenario for him, but Sebastien had come to his rescue and gave them leave to be what he deemed 'fashionably late'.
"Ah, 'Arry," Sebastien greeted him as they entered. "There is someone who is very keen to meet you."
The pair were led towards a group of smartly dressed men and women who bowed respectfully at their approached.
"Gino, you remember my daughter Fleur, non?" Sebastien spoke to a short, dark-haired man.
"I do," he answered with an Italian accent. "You grow more beautiful every year."
Fleur smirked at the man.
"You say the same thing every year," she sighed.
"But I mean it," he returned with a wink.
"Leave the poor girl alone, Gino," one of the women chastised. "You are old enough to be her father."
"Anastasia," Fleur greeted the woman warmly.
"He is a stupid man, but he is right. You do grow more beautiful," she offered, "and who is this young man?"
"This would be 'Arry Potter," Sebastien introduced him, eliciting some hushed whispering amongst the Italians.
"The Harry Potter?" the woman named Anastasia questioned. "My husband has been wanting to meet with you."
Gino nodded enthusiastically as he offered his hand that Harry accepted.
"Gino is the Italian Minister of Magic," Sebastien explained. "Nothing like Fudge," he added as a frown formed on Harry's brow.
"Then I am pleased to meet you, Minister," Harry greeted the man.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr Potter, and please, call me Gino," he insisted. "Only those that want to kiss my ass call me Minister. You do not strike me as one of them."
Harry laughed as he shook his head.
"I don't have a very good History with men in your position. I tend to say what is on my mind."
Gino chuckled.
"I need more people like you around me, Harry. Too many liars and deceivers plague my line of work."
Harry nodded his agreement.
"But enough of that, I wanted to meet you to give you this."
The man reached inside his jacket and removed a small box before handing it to him. Harry opened it and took in the small medal embedded.
"This is for killing Fenrir Greyback. Sebastien explained that you are not one for fanfare and I can appreciate that. This is a gift from my country to you, and your name will always be held in respect for what you have done."
"Thank you, Gino," Harry said gracefully.
"No, Harry, thank you. Greyback killed many of my citizens and we are all pleased that he has got the justice he deserves. We consider you a friend and you will be treated as such if you choose to visit us."
"I'm sure I will," Harry replied, internally amused by the thought that he had home there for over a year now.
"Excellent, then I will leave you to your celebrations. I have no doubt that many others will want to meet you."
Harry nodded gratefully and bid the man farewell before he and Fleur were led around the room and introduced to various other people, some bearing gifts and gratitude and others merely wanting to look upon him. He felt like a performer in a sideshow, but he had expected this. Sebastien had warned him of it, and he had prepared, though he was relieved when the two of them were left with Sirius and Remus.
"It is good to see you again, Mr Black."
"Bloody hell don't say that too loud, people will think I'm old," Sirius groaned as Fleur offered him an innocent smile.
"Non, they will not think that," she denied. "You look very good for a man of only fifty."
Sirius choked on his drink.
"I'm only thirty-six," he sputtered as Remus patted his back.
"She is winding you up, Padfoot," he comforted.
Sirius shook his head in disbelief.
"That's not funny," he grumbled, "you put her up to that," he accused his grinning godson.
"She didn't take much prompting," Harry defended.
Sirius threw his hands up in despair.
"I come here as an invited guest only to be insulted," he sighed as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It is nice to see you, Miss Delacour. I do hope he is treating you right?"
Fleur nodded.
"'Arry is always a gentleman."
"I do not know where he gets that from," Sirius snorted. "His father was a lout, I was a lout, the only one that wasn't was this one," he added, jerking a thumb in Remus's direction.
"Harry has manners," Remus responded, ignoring the barb. "We should be grateful he did not turn out like you."
Fleur laughed as Sirius frowned at the werewolf but nodded, nonetheless.
"We should," he agreed. "Look at me, I'm fifty and living with you," he quipped.
Harry could only shake his head at his godfather.
"Well, there's plenty of women here," he pointed out. "You could always see if the old Sirius Black charm works."
"Ha, I've already turned down three women," he announced proudly.
"They were trying to give you canapes," Remus muttered.
"I still turned them down!"
Harry grinned at the pair of them. Their antics amused him to no end, and he had grown fond of them both. It was not often he met good people. but Sirius and Remus fell into that category. They were good people who had made mistakes but were still good people who his parents had held dear.
"I'm not arguing with you. Come on, let's go and get a drink. I'm sure Fleur would like a dance."
The two took their leave and Fleur looked at him expectantly.
"Would you like to dance?" he asked.
"Oui," she answered as she offered him her hand.
He took it in his own and led her to the dancefloor where she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Thank you for doing this 'Arry," she whispered.
"Dancing with you?"
She shook her head.
"Being 'ere with me. I know you do not like it, but you still came."
He smiled.
"Well, if I get to dance with you, I'm not going to turn it down," he replied. "It reminds me of when we were by the lake."
She too smiled at the mention of the memory and the two of them fell into their practiced steps, those around the room fading as they lost themselves in each other.
"Do you think we could do this more often when everything is over with?" she asked hopefully.
"This? We could do this every day if it made you happy," he answered.
"I will 'old you that, 'Arry, and I will look forward to it."
(Break)
"I 'ave never seen 'er this 'appy," Sebastien commented as he joined Sirius and Remus at the bar.
"They make a good couple," Remus replied. "He's changed since we first met him, and she has a lot to do with it."
Sirius nodded his agreement.
"I was worried," he sighed, "but seeing him like that, I couldn't ask for anything more."
Sebastien placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You care for 'im," he said warmly. "As do I. One day, I 'ope that he will become a part of my family. I would welcome 'im as though 'e was a son and both of you too. 'E may not show it so much, but 'e does care for you both. 'E speaks very 'ighly of you and that is praise from 'im."
Remus chuckled.
"It is," he agreed. "I've seen what he can be like with those he does not like."
"Which is almost everyone," Sirius added. "My grandfather is constantly rubbing his hands together at the thought of him being the head of the family."
"That reminds me," Sebastien interjected, "are there any outstanding contracts that he should be aware of?"
Sirius shook his head firmly.
"No, only gold owed to us from loans, nothing else. That was the first thing I checked."
"Good," Sebastien declared. "I would 'ate to see Fleur's reaction."
Sirius's eyes widened as he grinned.
"Do not even think about," Remus warned. "They would both kill you."
Sirius pouted as he nodded.
"It would have been hilarious," he mumbled.
"It would until my wife and daughter burned you," Sebastien snorted.
Sirius cringed at the thought.
"No, I think I'll leave them be. How could anyone want to upset that," he added pointing to the dancing teens.
"I would pity any that tried," Sebastien muttered.
(Break)
She groaned as she tried to move from where she had been left on the floor. She knew not how long she had been here, but it felt as though it was an eternity. She felt degraded, had been tortured and left to rot in her own filth, and all in her own home.
She stared at the paltry offering of bread and water that had been placed in her cell some time earlier, the urge to vomit growing as she caught a whiff of her own odour.
How had her life taken such a turn in what could have only been hours?
She had been summoned by the Dark Lord, something that had never happened before. He had respected her wish to remain neutral during the previous war and had ignored her since she declined his offer to join him.
When she had arrived at his room, he had been polite and welcoming as he always had been to her. He had asked if she knew the whereabouts of her sister and had remained that way until Rudolphus had entered and whispered in his ear.
From that moment, he had been in a towering rage that made her blood run cold. He had hissed furiously for several minutes before demanding that she leave.
It was the following morning that she was summoned once more and any façade of politeness he had shown her in the past was all but gone. He had once more demanded to know where Bellatrix was and had not asked twice.
What followed was the were the most miserable moments she had ever experienced. For the first time in her life, she had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse and had no desire to do so again. It had felt as though her skin was being peeled away from the muscle and then a fire lit within her.
She had screamed herself hoarse, begged and pleaded for it to stop, but it continued. Eventually, she must have passed out because she woke in this very room unable to move, in a dungeon that had not been used for decades.
She whimpered as she pushed herself into a sitting position and felt for her wand. Of course, they had taken it along with her dignity. She was Narcissa Malfoy. None should be able to treat her this way.
Despite the pain she felt, she pushed herself into the corner of the room as the lock on the door was unbolted and it was pushed open.
She breathed a sigh of relief and sobbed as her husband entered, his already pale skin more so than she had seen it.
"Thank, Merlin," she wept as he pulled her to her feet. "Have you come to get me out of here?"
He shook his head causing her heart to sink.
"The Dark Lord has summoned you."
"No, Lucius, I do not know where Bella is," she protested.
"It is not me you have to convince," he returned coldly. "Now, come. I will not be the target of his ire because your sister decided to do something foolish."
Narcissa swallowed deeply as she looked at her husband. He had never been outwardly kind, but never cruel, not to her.
"And you're going to allow him to treat me like this? I am your wife!"
"You are, but he is my lord. I followed him long before I was married to you."
She was taken aback by his callousness. Had the past seventeen years meant nothing to him?
"Lucius," she choked.
He shook his head as he grabbed her firmly by the wrist and dragged her from the room.
"You're hurting me," she gasped.
Undeterred, he continued pulling her along, his jaw clenched.
"Lucius, stop!"
Her vision swam as he struck her wit the back of his hand and a trail of blood ran from her nose. She looked at him in shock as his blue eyes penetrated her own.
"I would suggest you compose yourself and be prepared. He will not appreciate being lied to. He will know, he always does," he warned as he seized her by the wrist once more and dragged her in his wake.
The shock consumed her as she followed her husband. He had never hit her before. He had raised his voice but never hit her, though he had always been fearful of retribution from her birth family. Such a thing was no longer of concern. After her grandfather had died, none had survived to take the mantle and wouldn't until her son came of age. Not that he would go against the wishes of his father. They were too alike already, and Draco would only be manipulated further by the man that had sired him.
No, she would be unable to turn to her son for help. Already, he was determined to join the ranks of the Dark Lord and her treatment at the hands of the man would not change that.
Thought of her son turned to confusion as she entered the rooms that had been set aside for her husband's lord and Draco was already within. She shot im a questioning look and he pointedly ignored her, his own nervousness unable to be hidden.
Was he here voluntarily or had he been summoned also?
The Dark Lord was already present, seated behind the desk and his crimson eyes not having settled since she had last been here. He radiated fury and what she thought was concern, though that vanished before she could be certain.
"I find myself, disappointed," he said in just above a whisper. "I never considered that you would disappoint me, Lucius, and I trusted you because of that, trusted you with perhaps my most treasured possession only for you to squander it."
His words were finished with a hiss of displeasure as he turned his attention towards her, and she shuddered unwittingly.
"I'm only going to ask you once; where is Bellatrix?"
Narcissa shook her head.
"I do not…"
" Crucio!"
She collapsed to the ground as a familiar and unwelcome pain washed over her, the Dark Lord not allowing her to finish her sentence. By the time the spell was ended, she had screamed her throat raw and she could not move from the cramping of her muscles. Through her watery eyes, she caught a glimpse of her son who looked upon her fearfully with a look of pity. Just like his father, he remained silent, offering no protest to the treatment she had received.
"Then we have a problem," Voldemort sighed. "You claim to not know where she is, but she too has taken something of great importance. You have both proven to be useless to me. Perhaps your son will fare better."
He gestured towards Lucius and he began dragging her from the room, not even helping her to her feet. Not that she could stand if she wanted to. Her body had been all but broken.
(Break)
The Dark Lord eyed the boy before him speculatively. Draco was undoubtedly a Malfoy, his appearance mirroring that of his father from his blonde hair down to his pale skin, though that could have been from the fear he was feeling. Voldemort could smell it, feel it radiating from him.
"Do you see what happens to those that defy me, Draco?"
The boy nodded.
"To ensure that my orders are carried out, my followers must respect me, must understand that failure is not an option. Your parents failed me, Draco, both of them."
Much to his credit, the teen remained silent as the Dark Lord paced back and forth, seemingly in thought.
Voldemort was furious, an anger that had not begun to abate since he had made the discovery.
His precious cup had been taken from the Lestrange vault. More concerning than this, the diary he had given to Lucius for safekeeping had too been used in one of his petty schemes. He had been punished harshly for his transgression.
With two of his Horcruxes missing, he needed to know if anything had happened to those that remained. Of course, Nagini was safe and would remain so behind the wards here, but when he had checked on the others that were accessible, his rage had become apoplectic.
The locket had been the first, and the note from Regulus had made him wish he had been much less merciful to the man so many years passed. He had revealed he knew what the Dark Lord had done but had given no indication he had gotten to one of his creations. He had acted rashly and killed Regulus immediately before his secret could come to light. An error on his part.
Evidently, Black had recovered the locket and even had the gall to leave a note mocking him. The only question that remained regarding it was; did he manage to destroy it? If not, then where was his locket?
From the cave, he had visited the home of his Wizarding family, as despicable and disappointing as they had been, only to find that the ring too was gone, but how?
Did Black figure out his identity?
He shook his head at the thought.
He could not dismiss the possibility. There was no other he could think of who would make the necessary connections to discover them, and this led him to his next trail of thoughts.
Had Regulus told Bellatrix of what he had known and somehow convinced her to defect?
As unlikely as he would once deem that to be, it was the only thing that made sense and would also explain why that was the only artefact she had taken from the vault.
His jaw tightened uncomfortably at the thought.
He had considered Dumbledore may have been the one to discover his secret after Black had, but his former headmaster knew nothing of such magic.
No, the Blacks had to be involved and he found it rather ironic that he was employing another of the line to right the wrongs his other family had committed against him.
"I am going to be very blunt with you, Draco," he spoke once more. "There is something I need, and you are going to retrieve it for me."
The boy looked at him questioningly, but a glare made him pause and consider his next words.
"Of course, m-my lord," he complied.
Voldemort nodded.
"There is a hidden room on the seventh floor of the school that can only be found if you have need of it. Opposite the tapestry of the dancing trolls, you must pass in front of the blank wall three times and think of what it is you need. You will think of the room of hidden things."
"The room of hidden things?" Draco questioned.
"It is a very large room full of deposited items and there is something very specific I need from within," the Dark Lord continued as he opened the drawer of his desk and removed a piece of parchment. Giving the boy a final cursory glance, he slid it to him. "The item is a diadem and looks exactly as I have sketched it here. To find it, you need to find a bust of a warlock. The diadem has been placed on top."
"Is it d-dangerous?"
"Very. Do not touch it with your bare skin. You will place it in this bag and bring it to me," Voldemort instructed as he handed Draco an oddly glowing jute sack. "Do not fail me, Malfoy."
"I w-won't, my lord."
"No, you will not, if you do, I will kill your mother and father and then you. Lord Voldemort does not forgive easily."
The boy's lower lip trembled; his eyes wide a he nodded his understanding.
"This is your one chance to redeem your family name. Prove yourself to be better than your father and then you will be gifted my mark. That is what you wish, is it not?"
Draco nodded.
"Good, now get out!" Voldemort hissed.
He watched as he exited, his eyes full of contempt and malice. He would prefer to retrieve the diadem himself but he was not ready to come out in the open, not with the setbacks he had suffered and the diadem was a pressing matter, one he needed to be certain of before he decided on his next move.
Briefly, he allowed his mind to wander to one of the other possibilities for his misfortune, the least likely one but the one that concerned him most. Potter had gotten to Bella in some capacity, of that he was certain, but there was no conceivable way he knew of his horcruxes and certainly not where they were located. Nonetheless, they had been found but he held hope the diadem was intact. Even Dumbledore himself would not believe him to be so bold to leave one under his very nose.
Soon enough, he would have it back in his possession, but until then, he needed to be cautious. It would not do to act hastily for it to be to his own detriment. No, he must wait for Draco to bring him the diadem. Only then would he relax and ready himself for his next move, one that was already being orchestrated by Augustus.
The man was close, or so he said, to figuring out the security around the Department of Mysteries. When he was confident, he would take the prophecy and finally fully understand the threat that Potter posed, a threat that was appearing to be more than he had ever thought possible.
He was but a boy, a skilled one he would admit and one whose influence grew steadily, but not comparable to him and would not live long enough to be so.
Still, he had already succeeded where many others had failed, and though his respect and curiosity grew with each of his feats, he had to be killed.
Destiny had decreed it so.
(Break)
Thankfully, with the portkey he used to go back and forth between his home and Hogsmeade, there was no need for him to take the Hogwarts Express back to the castle and he had arrived just ahead of the rest of the students.
Not wanting to be amongst them for the feast, he had gotten some food from the kitchens before heading to the room of requirement where he worked on some new spells before going to bed.
For breakfast, however, he would need to attend the Great Hall. He had been given no indication of what he would be teaching upon his return to the castle or what his schedule would be in the coming weeks.
As such, he reached the hall early enough to avoid all but the earliest of risers in the castle and helped himself to some eggs whilst he waited for either Professors McGonagall or Flitwick to arrive.
Much to his relief, he was not waiting long and barely a handful more students entered the hall before the Deputy Headmistres,s who greeted him with a smile.
"I would like you to meet me and Professor Flitwick in my office in twenty-five minutes, Mr Potter. We will go through what the rest of the term will entail for you."
He nodded his understanding and finished his breakfast. It would give him time to meet Fleur at the very least.
As usual, he reached the gates a few minutes before she arrived, and she greeted him with an enthusiastic kiss.
"'Ow is she settling in?" she questioned.
He had spent the night before he returned to the castle at his own home. He had wanted to check on Serana and his wards to ensure no one had attempted to interfere with them. They hadn't and he he'd managed to enjoy a restful sleep knowing his companion was safe and happy, and that his abode was yet to be discovered.
"She's doing well," he answered as they began walking towards the castle.
She was too. She was much happier in the more pleasant clime and it was showing. Her skin was brighter, and her overall demeanour had lifted considerably. It warmed him to see her thriving and hoped that the move would give her a new lease on life.
Thus far, she had spent her time investigating the woods and had developed a love of swimming in the stream. Even Hedwig was not bothered by her presence and had, according to the serpent, spent some of her own time circling above her as she explored.
"I am pleased," she replied sincerely, knowing how much the basilisk had grown on him over the years.
"Pleased enough to meet her?" he asked, grinning as her smile was replaced with a look of nervousness.
"Isn't she dangerous?"
Harry nodded as he laughed.
"She will not kill you unless she feels threatened," he explained. "I don't suppose many know this, but she has an additional eyelid she can see through that makes her stare harmless. I didn't know it until she told me. She really is very sweet."
"I think we 'ave different ideas of what is sweet, 'Arry," Fleur muttered amusedly.
He merely shook his head as they entered the castle and she bid him farewell as she headed towards Professor Flitwick's classroom. He still was not comfortable with the idea of her being here, but there had been no incidents thus far other than with Umbridge.
The thought of the woman made his blood boil, but she had reverted to ignoring him since the night she had accosted him in the corridor. Perhaps she had gotten the message that she couldn't hope to get the better of him?
He snorted at the thought.
People like Dolores Umbridge did not learn such lessons and it was likely she was planning another way to have him brought to heel, something she would never achieve.
Pushing his thoughts of the woman aside, he approached Professor McGonagall's door and knocked.
There was only a momentary delay before he was bid to enter, and he did so to be greeted by the woman and his head of house who offered him a slight bow.
"Take a seat, Mr Potter," McGonagall instructed, her tone as terse as ever. "We have much to discuss with you this morning."
He frowned as he complied, the two Professors scrutinising him for a minute.
"I suppose we should begin with this formality," Professor McGonagall spoke once more as she slid a thick envelope towards him. "I requested that your NEWT results be sent directly to me to ensure that they were not somehow misplaced."
Harry nodded gratefully as he accepted the missive.
"I would suggest you open those now. How we proceed will depend on your results."
He looked at the two of them questioningly, but when neither spoke, he broke the official Ministry seal and read.
Dear Mr Potter,
Please find enclosed the results of your recently completed Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test assessments conducted by me at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Classification is as follows:
O – Outstanding
E – Exceeds Expectations
A – Acceptable
P – Poor
D – Dreadful
T - Troll
Should you wish to make an appeal for any of the given grades, you must write to the Department of Magical Education within 30 days of receiving them.
Your results are as follows:
NEWTS
Ancient Runes – O
Arithmancy - O
Defence Against the Dark Arts – O
Herbology – O
Potions – O
Congratulations, you have obtained 5 NEWTS graded Outstanding. Overall, considering previous assessments, you have achieved 9 OWLs and 7 NEWTs.
Best Wishes,
Madame Griselda Marchbanks
Senior Examiner
He finished his perusal of his results before handing them back to the waiting Professors who were seemingly both eager to learn of how well he had done.
"I expected nothing less," Flitwick declared, smiling proudly.
"I have both of you to thank for it," Harry returned honestly. "If you hadn't have pushed me as you did and enter me for them early, we wouldn't be here now."
"The work was your own, Potter," McGonagall replied dismissively. "This does, however, beg the question of what we should do next. Already, you are exceeding our expectations with your apprenticeships and are demonstrating passion and dedication. We are both very proud at how well you are managing the enormous workload."
Harry nodded appreciatively. He was working exceedingly hard at the tasks and teaching set for him to complete. He was passionate about both subjects, something he had been since he had first begun to cast magic and that was something that would never change.
"The first thing we must establish is that now you have completed your formal education at the school, you will no longer be classed as a student here," Flitwick explained. "You will of course continue working under us and will remain welcome here anytime you wish to be, but you are no longer obligated to board here."
That revelation made his stomach sink somewhat, but he understood. Hogwarts did feel like a home to him, but it no longer was. He had one of his own where he could live and enjoy much more privacy.
"With that being said, we would like you to teach here as you have been but with the addition of taking some of Charms classes also."
Harry nodded, readily agreeing to the opportunity.
"Also, as is our duty, we will be formally assessing your progress in the coming weeks. You will not be told what you are expected to do nor when, but you can take this as us informing you of it," McGonagall interjected. "How is your paper on methods of becoming an Animagus coming along?"
"I've finished it," Harry informed her, taking note to be prepared for a spontaneous assessment in the near future. "I would have liked some more citable references, but I couldn't find much."
"No, it is not a subject seldom written on. It is a particularly risky undertaking and certainly not something to experiment with lightly," Professor McGonagall mused aloud. "That isn't due until Friday, so, if you have nothing from Filius, the rest of the week is your own. I would recommend enjoying it. Teaching two different subjects will be very trying."
"I will, thank you, Professor," he returned.
She nodded and offered him a rare, genuine smile.
"We are very pleased with your progress, Harry. Do keep it up."
"I will," he assured the woman as he offered a bow to Professor Flitwick and headed towards the door.
"Oh, and on a personal note, congratulations on being awarded the Order of Merlin," Flitwick piped up. "I believe you will be among the youngest to receive one in recent memory. Do you know when the ceremony will take place?"
Harry shook his head.
"I've not heard anything since the Wizengamot meeting," he answered.
He suspected Fudge would delay it as long as he could in the hopes that it would be forgotten about by his peers. That seemed unlikely and would only become more pressing when they inevitably learned of the other awards he had received.
"Well, I imagine it won't be long," the diminutive man replied.
Harry shrugged as he took his leave from the office. He didn't care about awards or adulation, but the principles of Fudge continued to irk him. Not that he wanted to waste his energy pondering the man, not now.
Finding himself in the corridors of the school, he was overcome with a sense of being lost. Hogwarts would never be the same to him. Until now, it had been something of a haven, the place he had truly begun his journey and it seemed that this part of the path he was to tread had come to an end in some way. He was no longer a student here, not officially and would never be so again.
It saddened him more than he had thought it would and he found himself thinking of all the memories that seemed insignificant at the time but would now be ones he would never forget.
As he passed the transfiguration classroom, he remembered his very first lesson, the moment he realised that he was truly gifted in the art. He smiled at the memory, one of many he would treasure. Professor McGonagall had been astounded by his ability and had nurtured his gift since. He owed her and Professor Flitwick a debt he would never be able to repay.
The bathroom on the second floor made him chuckle at the memory of the Beauxbatons students and how they had been soaked by Myrtle when he had sent them in there; the same night he had met Fleur for the first time. He would never have expected for things to develop between them as they had, but here he was, here they were. What the future held, he did not know but he couldn't think of any scenario where she would no longer be a part of his life. So much had happened between them in the short time they had known each other.
Seeing that it was now empty, he entered the Great Hall, where many moments had left an impression on him, some good and some bad. Here, he had been sorted into his house, the Ravenclaw emblem still sitting proudly on his chest for what would be the last time. He had never paid the symbol much mind, had never absorbed himself in the prevalent house rivalry of the school. To him, it had been meaningless and still was. It mattered not what crest was stitched into someone's robes. All four had produced good and bad wizards and would always do so.
He left the hall as the night of the champions announcement surfaced. It had been the first time he had visited his parents, a moment that had been ruined by the tournament, the following months leaving him no happier. He had lost Tom; Voldemort had returned and the problems he faced with the Ministry had begun.
He shook his head irritably.
He didn't want to focus on them and left the castle into the chilly January morning. He caught sight of the Whomping Willow in the distance and remembered the first night he had met Sirius in the Shrieking Shack. The man had been dishevelled and murderous, a far cry from who he truly was. Despite everything that he had endured, he had managed to not lose himself entirely and had been there for him these past couple of years.
As he made his way towards the lake, he began lamenting the number of hours he had spent here. When he wanted to get out of the castle, he would go to the lake or Quidditch stadium. He had learnt he would face a dragon in the first task here and had shared the dance with Fleur that had undoubtedly spurred what had happened between them.
He snorted as he removed his broom from within his trunk and resized it. It had been some time since he had simply gone for a fly and the occasion seemed right for him to do so.
He mounted and kicked off from the ground, the crisp air not unwelcome as he unleashed his Firebolt and headed towards the stadium a short distance away. As he had by the lake, he had spent many hours up here when the need arose. He loved flying and it had always given him a sense of freedom, a rare escape from whatever worries and fears plagued him. Whether he lost himself in the exhilaration of merely being in the air or was pushing the limits of what he could do on a broom, it never failed to lift his spirits when he needed it, though the same could not be said for the stadium itself.
Until fourth year, the construct had been nothing to him but a place the rest of the school would gather to watch the Quidditch matches. Now, it was so much more. The duelling tournament had taken place here as had the third task, something he could never forget, as much as he might have wished to at times. When he thought of it, thoughts of Voldemort inevitably rose. Even memories of the Dark Lord were tied into his time at Hogwarts, spoiling many of his experiences.
He shook his head not wanting him to spoil this one. He was not worth that.
With a sigh, he touched down and walked towards the castle, pausing as he spotted the gate in the distance. He had passed through it more times than any student had business doing so throughout their years.
He had met Gabrielle and Apolline for the first time during one of the times he should have been in school but had ventured to Diagon Alley. The little veela had been the first person to hug him. The gesture had thrown him off, panicked him even.
He grinned at that memory. She would always be the little girl that seemingly didn't care or understand that people didn't do things like that to him. By then, he had cultivated a reputation as one that should be left alone. Gabrielle hadn't cared and neither had one other person. From his very first day here they hadn't.
He frowned as he stared at the tree that Terry had waited for him by to return from the Christmas holidays. That was the same night he had visited the offices of the Daily Prophet for the first time.
Just how long had he waited for him to make an appearance?
As he pondered the other boy, he realised that he had been a part of many of the memorable times he'd had at the school.
He had been there during his first transfiguration lesson, had even defended him when the others had labelled him McGonagall's favourite. For the first year or so, they had worked together in every potions lesson and had spent many hours together during the duelling competition where Harry had helped him.
Terry had helped him also. He had been the one to wait for him so he could show him the article the prophet had printed about him and Fleur, had been the only one to seek him out on the train to check on him after the most recent summer.
When he really thought about it, Terry Boot had been just about the only person to show him any kind of consistent consideration throughout the years. He rarely imposed himself on him, respected that he liked to spend much of his time alone and was never fazed by his moods. He would even take it upon himself to crack jokes at his expense, surprising but amusing him also.
"Bloody hell," he grumbled as he headed towards the castle, his head shaking.
He had only intended to stay here long enough to explain to Fleur what had happened but had unwittingly come upon something else he had to handle. With that in mind, he headed towards the kitchens, gathered a variety of foods and packed them in his trunk before making his way to the Great Hall.
By the time he arrived, lunch had begun, and he entered, his eyes scanning his house table. He spotted Terry about halfway down, his plate of food neglected as he read a transfiguration text.
"Come on, Boot, you're having lunch with me," he declared as he reached the boy.
Terry was surprised, having not been invited to do so in the past, but he nodded and closed his book, putting it in his bag when Harry gestured for him to follow.
He led him on to the grounds and to his favourite spot by the lake. Here, they wouldn't be disturbed, and Harry unloaded the food he had taken from the kitchens. Without prompt, Terry helped himself to some sandwiches and was seemingly content to sit quietly whilst they both ate.
"I'm done here," Harry eventually spoke, having been unsure where to begin. "With school I mean. I got my final NEWT results today, so I'm not a student anymore."
Terry offered him a genuine smile.
"Congratulations," he said sincerely. "Does that mean you'll be leaving?"
Harry shook his head.
"I'll still be teaching here and doing my apprenticeships, but it will be different now, I suppose."
"It will, but this is what you've been working hard for, isn't it?"
Harry shrugged.
"I didn't ever think I'd be done almost two years early."
"I did," Terry replied.
Harry offered him a questioning look and he sighed.
"I used to be jealous of you, with how far ahead you were of everyone and how easily some things come to you. It wasn't until third year that I realised it's not always because it is easy, it's because you work harder than everybody else. When we were arsing around in the common room at night, you were always working hard and getting better. I work hard, Harry, but never as hard as you have. You have earned what you've achieved and I'm happy for you."
"You used to be jealous of me?" Harry asked with a frown.
"Everyone is jealous of you, but they don't understand what being you means. They don't understand what you have gone through to get to where you are. I used to be one of them, but I saw you the night of the third task and I was grateful that I wasn't you. If anything, it made me realise how lucky I am but made me respect you even more. I don't think I've ever seen my father so proud of me when I told him that."
Harry nodded his understanding. Even he did not want to be himself at times.
"Your father?"
"He speaks very highly of you," Terry answered. "He says that you will hold a lot of influence when you come of age. Two lordships and what you have already done will see to that. I look forward to sitting with you on the Wizengamot one day," he finished with a smile.
"Me too," Harry returned.
"I'm not jealous of you anymore, Harry," Terry assured him. "With what you have done and what you will do, that's a lot of responsibility that not many people could handle, me included. My father said that there will always be those that are better than others, that they'll be the ones who should lead us, and the rest should be there to hold them up and support them when they need it. He thinks you'll be Minister before you're thirty. I don't."
"You don't?"
"No, you're too good for that job," Terry chuckled. "You'll be the one to make sure we get a decent one. You're better than sitting in a stuffy office all day. That's not you."
"It isn't," Harry agreed.
They fell into a companionable silence for a short time before Terry broke the silence.
"So, why did you bring me out here? I doubt it was to eat sandwiches and stare at the lake, you have a girlfriend for that crap."
Harry laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation he found himself.
"Come on, Boot, you know I'm not good at this stuff. I'm just trying to say thanks, for everything. For sticking up for me when I wasn't here, just all of it."
Terry nodded and took pity on him.
"You're welcome, Harry, but I only ever did what a friend would do for another."
"Is that what we are?"
"That's how I think of you, even if it is hard. I've always considered you my friend," Terry added.
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"I never had a friend before I came here, I didn't know what it was like, but if I had to name one person I thought of in that way, it would be you."
"Ah, you're breaking my heart," Terry quipped as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "I never knew you felt that way."
Harry shook his head irritably as a grin tugged at his lips.
"Shut up, Terry."
(Break)
The task he had been given had seemed simple when it had been explained to him, but as he looked upon the mountains of discarded items that had evidently accumulated over the centuries, his stomach sank. The room was enormous and filled from floor to ceiling with piles of furniture, books and many items he was completely uncertain of. Finding a small diadem would not be easy.
Nonetheless, he set about his task having waited days to access the room. It was not a part of the castle he had ever visited. There were no classrooms in this corridor of which to speak, nor much else, in truth. There was a bathroom, a collection paintings and the odd tapestry the Dark Lord had described to him.
Were he not so concerned with the importance of the task, he may have been able to appreciate the hidden room for what it was and the potential it offered, but such thoughts were far from his mind. He needed the diadem, needed to ensure the safety of his parents. If he were to fail, his father would be killed, and that was not an acceptable outcome.
As the minutes dragged on, the room seemed to only grow and the number of items within it also, and it wasn't long before he was cursing, his anger turning to turmoil as he began to question the chances of his success.
Already, he had spent days worrying about the fate of his father, what was happening to him during his absence and all it took to send him over the edge was the collapsing of one of the piles of furniture as he moved a chair from it.
The sound of crashing and splintering wood made his choke on his own tears, something that would not be so difficult to undo yet something that only added precious moments until he found the diadem and ultimately saved his father.
The Dark Lord was not known for his forgiveness, and at any point, could change his mind on a whim if he felt that Draco was taking too long.
Knowing he had to think clearly, he took a moment to compose himself before setting to work once more, his warring emotions threatening to overwhelm him as piece by piece, the furniture was returned to where it had fallen from.
(Break)
Returning to the castle on Friday morning felt different. He had continued to meet Fleur in the morning outside of the gates and again in the evening when she was to leave as he had arranged with Sebastien, but he had not entered the grounds.
Although he felt free, he also felt lost. During his time away, he had been at home, busying himself with menial work around his property, spending time with Serana and training as much as he could, but he could not deny that his life had irrevocably changed.
He knew that the coming weeks would not be the same as this one as he would be returning to just teach. Hogwarts was no longer his home and he was no longer a student of the school. As it stood, he felt as though he was in between two worlds, one where he would no longer be here and one where he had not left.
It was an odd feeling and one he had not expected, though he was beginning to adjust. He loved the privacy the arrangement gave him and did not miss the stares and whispers daily, but it was still something he was getting used to and likely something he would not be able to fully appreciate until Voldemort was dead.
When that day came, he would be truly free of what weighed on him the most and the staring and whispers would no longer bother him as they once had.
Today, however, was not that day and still, he remained in the strange limbo that had become his life.
Choosing not to focus on the feeling, he waited for Fleur to arrive, and when she did, she greeted him as warmly as always. She had been surprised by the revelation that he was no longer considered a student here, but it seemed to spur her more, teasing side. It reminded him of their weekend at the beach house, and though that was something he was getting used to, the smouldering stares she shot his way was something that would always affect him. Not that he was complaining. He was growing to enjoy that side of her.
"Did you finish your paper?" she asked.
He nodded as the entered the castle.
"I finished it days ago. I think McGonagall just wanted to give me time to get used to all this," he replied.
"It is a big change, 'Arry."
"I know, but I suppose I should have seen it coming. At least I don't have to deal with Umbridge anymore."
Fleur hummed irritably. Umbridge was still visiting Flitwick's lessons more often than she was most others. It was as though she was purposely targeting the poor man, or Fleur.
"I think I 'ave grown to 'ate 'er more than you do."
Harry snorted.
"I doubt that," he denied. "Have you drawn your wand on her yet?"
Fleur shook her head.
"Non, but I am very tempted. The other part of me despises 'er too."
Harry laughed, though he understood the danger of that. If Umbridge was to provoke her too far, the results would not be pleasant. He'd had a glimpse of the avian side and it was not one he was keen on seeing again.
"Well, if you were to immolate her, you'd be doing a lot of people a favour," he sighed dreamily. "Anyway, I'll be here today so I will see you in the Entrance Hall later."
She nodded before kissing him deeply, only to break apart as a cough sounded.
"As much as I appreciate that you are no longer a student here, Mr Potter, I still expect a level of decorum from you," Professor McGonagall chided.
Harry grinned as Fleur took her leave.
"Sorry, Professor, I wasn't expecting anyone to be lurking around here."
The woman narrowed her eyes at him but decided against a battle of wit and held out a hand expectantly.
Taking the hint, Harry removed the rolls of parchment he had used to complete his assignment and she nodded approvingly as she skimmed through the first page.
"We will use this as your formal assessment for this year," she informed him, "and will arrange your practical in the coming weeks."
"I look forward to it," he replied honestly, accepting a sheet of parchment she offered in return.
"That will be your teaching schedule until April," she explained. You have four lessons of charms and five transfiguration, all on Thursdays and Fridays. We will continue to meet as we have been starting from Monday. Any questions?"
"No, Professor."
"Excellent, I will see you on Monday, Potter," she said dismissively before continuing on her way, leaving Harry with nothing to do.
With a shrug, he headed towards the seventh floor. Whilst he was here, it would be a shame to not put his room to use. It was much more adaptable than the one at home, after all.
He paused, a deep frown marring his features as the door failed to materialise. Not once in the almost five years he had been using it had this happened and he wondered if he had done something wrong.
Again, he tried to open the door only for nothing to happen once more. He had done what was required of him and the only thing that could be conceivable as to why it was not working was because someone was already in there.
The thought left him with a sense of discomfort. How had they discovered the room and what were they doing in there?
Pulling his cloak over him, he waited, staring at the blank stretch of wall where the door would appear for what seemed like hours. Eventually, however, it did, and he was shocked by the appearance of a pale and almost distraught Draco Malfoy emerging from the room.
Thinking quickly, he grabbed the boy by the front of the robes as he was crossing the threshold and shoved him back in and slammed the door behind them.
"What are you doing in here, Malfoy?" he asked as he took note of where they were.
If he had been surprised by discovering the Slytherin here, it was nothing compared to the shock and fear etched on the blonde's face as he stared at the tip of Harry's wand only an inch or so from him.
"N-nothing," he denied. "I j-just found it and was looking around."
It didn't take an expert in the mind arts to see that he was lying, was hiding an ulterior motive for being here.
"Don't lie to me," Harry hissed. "I'm only going to give you one more chance to tell me."
Draco looked at him defiantly for a moment before his resolve broke and his bottom lip began to tremble. Harry was even more taken aback when the boy began to sob.
"He told me I had to come here to get it," Malfoy sniffled. "He will kill them if I don't."
"Who told you?"
"The D-dark L-lord," Malfoy stuttered.
It made sense. There were very few people who knew of this room and Voldemort was one of them, though having an answer offered Harry little comfort.
"What did he send you here for?" he pressed.
"A d-diadem, a stupid tiara thing."
His heart sunk into his stomach. There was only one reason Voldemort would risk having an imbecile like Draco Malfoy fetch one of his horcruxes. It meant that he had become aware of the state of the others.
"Well, you won't find it. It is gone and has been for some time," Harry informed the boy, taking a few seconds to enjoy the look of horror that formed.
"No! It can't be. My father will be killed if I don't get it for him," Draco wailed.
A very small part of Harry pitied the boy for the briefest of seconds before he reminded himself of just who he and his parents were. However, he had made a promise to Bellatrix, and though she had not been able to help him much, another opportunity may have just presented itself to him in the form of the trembling Malfoy heir.
"The diadem has been destroyed," Harry explained, "but, I may be able to help you, only if you help me," he added firmly.
Draco seemed surprised by the offer, and though the thought of having help from the blonde disgusted him, he had long exhausted his monitoring of the Malfoy home. It was nigh on impossible to get in without triggering one or more of the wards.
"How are you supposed to help me?" Draco asked warily.
"I will try to save your parents, if you give me certain information."
"What information?"
"I will need to know how to get in your home."
Draco shook his head.
"You can't, not without the mark. The Dark Lord set new wards over our home. Even I can't get in without my father."
Harry nodded. He had expected as much from his own observations.
"Fine. What about his snake? Where does it feed and where does it sleep?"
Draco frowned at the question.
"She eats in the w-woods at the back of the house. We have wild deer there and she sleeps in the Dark Lord's rooms."
That was something he could work with. Nagini needed to be eliminated at the earliest possible opportunity now that Voldemort was aware of what was happening.
"Are there any hidden traps I need to be aware of?"
Draco shook his head frantically.
"Only the Death Eaters. There are lots of them there, the worst ones. You'd have to watch out for them."
Again, Harry nodded thoughtfully as a plan began to form in his mind.
It was not without risk but had become a necessity, now more than ever.
"My m-mother is being kept in the dungeons," Draco spoke again. "I don't know about my father."
"Dungeons?" Harry asked.
Draco nodded.
"The entrance to them is in the kitchen. I don't know w-why but the Dark Lord is angry with her. He was gone for weeks, but when he came back, he was furious."
Harry knew that the disappearance of Bellatrix was the reason for this, and he released a deep sigh as he angled his wand towards the boy.
" Obliviate."
Malfoy's face immediately relaxed, and Harry went to work removing the memory of their conversation and the orders he'd received from the Dark Lord. Even if the lives of his parents were on the line, Draco could not be trusted, and Harry had every intention of following through with his promise.
Draco may have only confirmed what he already knew, but with Voldemort having become wise to what had happened to his horcruxes, Harry could not wait any longer. He needed to deal with the snake and hold up his end of the deal he'd made with Bellatrix.
It was not a task he would relish but one he could no longer wait to complete.
"Bollocks," he grumbled as he sent the Slytherin on his way, no longer plagued by the task he had been given.