What One is Willing to do
A/N
We are drawing towards the end of this tale now, but worry not, there is much more to come from me.
I now have 24 more HP fics fully planned that will all be written.
This week, I hosted Voice Actor/Audiobook Creator Sam Gabriel on the podcast, so do check that out. It is available free on my other page.
Anyway, follow favourite and review as it is greatly appreciated,
TBR
The day he had been dreading had finally arrived, the day he was obligated to submit documents pertaining to his spending over the past near fifteen years. He had worked day and night to pull everything together over the month he had been given to gather such, and as he looked upon the pile of parchment sat on his desk, he could only shake his head.
He had managed to account for every knut that he had officially redirected away from the department of magical law enforcement. The problem he now faced was explaining the missing funds he had spent elsewhere, the paper trail for which having been destroyed long ago. The outlook was nothing but bleak, the missing sum in the region of 448,000 Galleons. How could he explain the loss without implicating himself in what would be deemed a misappropriation of gold?
He would be hard-pressed to, especially as much of what was missing had not been invested in other departments nor spent on the public. They would all demand to know just where this money went, and he had no answer that would satisfy them.
He could only now sit back and watch his career crumble before his very eyes, unless Lucius could come up with something. The thought filled him with a glimmer of hope. Lucius had always come through for him when he needed it, though his last two missives to the man had been ignored.
Perhaps he was busy?
No matter, he would be amongst the members of the Wizengamot today, sat by his side as he had since he had taken office.
With his mind put at ease, he placed the parchment in a trunk, the summary of his investigation placed neatly on top. There was still a chance the missing gold would not be noticed. Who on earth would have a budget report from over a decade ago to compare to his own?
He snorted lightly as he shrunk the trunk and placed it within his robes as he exited his office. He offered the four aurors that had been charged with acting as his guard for the day a nod. The additional two to his usual retinue would serve him well if they were needed, something he hoped would not be the case, but it was always best to be prepared. There was always the chance that something could go wrong.
No, he would not allow it. He was the Minister, and until he was dragged from his office, he would remain so. He would not allow a small blip to change his thinking. His position was still the highest in the land, and those below him were ants, ready to be crushed beneath his heel if needed. He had the support to do so in Lucius and his side of the political spectrum.
He had served them well over the years and they would be loath to see him replaced with someone much less generous to them.
Pushing aside the negative thoughts, he stood at his full height as he entered the Wizengamot chambers to find the room at full capacity as he expected. Once again, the vultures of the media had gathered, as had the members of the public including the Potter brat.
Merlin only knew what mayhem he would cause today.
Ignoring the boy, he approached his seat and took it, frowning as a pale Lucius barely acknowledged him with a nod of his head. The man looked unwell, the bags under his eyes dark and prominent.
"Are you okay, old friend?" Cornelius asked.
"I have had a tiring week, Minister," Lucius replied. "Many things require my attention, as I'm sure you understand."
"Of course, of course," Cornelius replied as Dumbledore's gavel crashed against his podium, causing the Minister to wince.
He still despised the man for the rubbish he had been talking. Were it not for his foolishness, perhaps Cornelius would have sought his advice as he had on man other occasions, but no. He could not be seen fraternising with the Chief Warlock. It would undermine the hard work he had put in to discredit him.
"We have reconvened today as arranged during our last meeting to discuss the conduct and handling of finances by the current Minister and his administration. Without further ado, I give the floor to Minister Fudge to address those gathered."
Cornelius frowned as he stood. It appeared as though Dumbledore was just as keen as the journalists with their quills poised to get underway. Clearing his throat, he ignored the expectant stares. He would not allow them to set the pace.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, and the rest of you that have joined us today," he began respectfully, swallowing the taste of bile that formed in his mouth. "For the past month, my character has been heavily scrutinised, the work I have done of behalf of the people questioned and my ability to lead brought into doubt. Today, I aim to assuage any concerns that you may have, alleviate your misgivings and prove that I am now, and always have been a fair and just Minister."
He paused and allowed the room to whisper their thoughts on his opening statement. He had sounded assured and more confident than he felt, but that was what politics was; being certain even when doubt was prevalent.
"Now, I did not have my facts and figures ready during our previous meeting, an error on my part, I admit. However, I have worked tirelessly to bring them all together to share with you. Weasley, if you could ensure that everyone has a copy of this, please," he requested as he handed Percy the summary sheet he had created, silently hoping that none would delve too deeply into it and ask questions he had no answer for.
He allowed his assistant to carry out his work and began speaking once more when half of the room had been given the document.
"Before you is the summary of the finances pertaining to the funds that were redirected from the department of magical law enforcement. It is an in-depth and accurate accounting of these finances," he explained proudly.
He ignored the questioning look that Lucius sent his way as he perused the offering.
"As you can see, the funds were split between several departments within the Ministry that was in desperate need of them and spent on repairing the damage of the war. In total 1.7 million galleons were redirected and wisely spent."
His heart soared as the murmurs of agreement sounded throughout the room, his bluff seemingly having been accepted at face value, though it sunk once more when Augusta Longbottom cleared her throat loudly.
"My apologies, Minister, but when I compare this sum and the spending to the previous budget granted to the department of magical law enforcement, it appears that there are almost 500,000 galleons missing. Could you explain this, please?"
His eyes narrowed at the woman who was clutching a second, weathered piece of parchment she must have kept from many years ago. Trust Augusta to not miss a trick. Nonetheless, he smiled at the woman as he cursed her internally.
"My apologies, Madame Longbottom, but I fear you are mistaken. Your information must contain an error."
Augusta snorted disbelievingly as those in the room looked on, wanting an explanation.
"I do not think so," Madame Longbottom denied. "I may be old, but my mind is sound. I remember when this budget was announced during the war by Barty Crouch and Minister Bagnold. She was adamant the department receive this additional funding and it was heavily opposed by certain members of this body," she returned, her glare aimed towards Lucius before switching to those on the left hand side of the room including Lord Nott, Lord Goyle and Lord Parkinson."
"I too remember that," Griselda Marchbanks piped up in support of the Longbottom matriarch as I'm sure will the Chief Warlock."
Dumbledore said nothing but nodded his agreement.
"Then where is this additional gold, Minister?" Lord Greengrass demanded.
Cornelius wiped the forming perspiration away from his forehead with the back of his hand as he became subjected to a plethora of expectant stares. He had no answer for them, had relied on either Lucius to come to his rescue or for them to not notice. How could he be so foolish? They were like a school of piranha; relentless and unforgiving.
"Well, I…"
"No excuses, Minister. We demand clarity!" Greengrass interrupted.
His words were met with applause and cheers and Cornelius could feel them beginning to nip at his heels as he stumbled.
"Where is the missing gold?" Madame Marchbanks questioned when the room had fallen silent once more.
Cornelius swallowed deeply as he met the stare of the formidable woman.
"I have no knowledge of the alleged funds. I have accounted for everything I spent," he added as those within the chambers began to jeer at him.
"That is unacceptable, Minister," Lord Boot declared. "I feel that, in light of the evidence we have seen, we should move towards a motion of no confidence. Clearly, the Minister has been negligent at best during his time in office. Almost half a million galleons is a significant amount of gold to lose track of. What example would be set to future prospects if this was to go unpunished?"
There was considerable support for the man's suggestion and Cornelius shook his head.
"NO! I will not allow this travesty to continue," he snapped. "I have been nothing but honest and will not suffer the slander any longer. Unless you have irrefutable proof that I am guilty of wrongdoing, then I do not accept this."
When none spoke, he grinned smugly at them.
"Because there is none. You have nothing but conjecture and speculation by those who have never supported me," he continued.
"We have the missing half million galleons that you have yet to account for," Lord Greengrass countered.
"A missing half million galleons I have no knowledge of," Cornelius reiterated. "How am I guilty of anything if I do not know of it?"
"The Minister is correct," Lord Nott defended. "Unless he is arrested and tried by an impartial collection of his peers, then this nonsense should be dropped immediately. There are no such grounds to arrest him."
"There is not," Dumbledore agreed reluctantly. "There is, however, grounds for an independent investigation to be carried out by the International Confederation of Warlocks into the tenure of the Minister, the alleged misappropriation of funds and any other points of interest that may be raised during said investigation. We are all answerable to someone Minister, and your office is no different."
Fudge frowned as the realisation set in as to what was occurring. Could the ICW do that? If so, this was not good for him.
"All those in favour of such an investigation being applied for?" Dumbledore asked before he could speak up in his defence.
He could only look on as more than two thirds of the Wizengamot raised their wands, the tips lit and sealing his fate.
"Those opposed?"
It felt as though the question was asked to mock him, though he knew that all formalities had to be completed.
"The motion passes," Dumbledore announced without a hint of triumph as he scratched away with his quill.
Cornelius suspected that the man was cheering internally as much as those in the public gallery were doing so jubilantly. A slap in the face if there ever was one.
"The necessary paperwork will be submitted by the end of the day and I will contact the Wizengamot in due course with an update," he explained. "Now, before this meeting is brought to an end, are there any other matters that need to be brought to our attention?"
Cornelius slumped into his seat as Amelia Bones stood and mentioned something ridiculous about giants and was pulled from his reverie a while later by Dumbledore calling for his attention.
"Sorry, what?" he asked, standing once more.
"Lord Boot questioned; what is the current status of Mr Potter receiving his Order of Merlin as was agreed during our previous meeting?"
Lord Boot nodded.
"For those that do not keep abreast of international news, the future Lord Potter and Black has already received no less than six awards from other countries. I feel that we are doing him a disservice and making ourselves appear ungrateful by making him wait."
"I agree," Lord Greengrass supported, offering the Potter boy a respectful bow.
"It is not something I have given much thought to, as I'm sure you will understand. However," he continued when the whispers of dissent began, "a date will be given by the end of the coming week, I can assure you of that."
He retook his seat, muttering under his breath as to how they could put so much sentiment on the boy being rewarded when his own career was going up in smoke. What did an ICW investigation consist of anyway?
Lucius merely offered him a sharp shake of his head as he met his gaze, the simple gesture filling him with an even worse dread than had plagued him this past month.
(Break)
He eyed the potion vial he held between his fingers distastefully, despising that he was reliant on it to sleep peacefully. If he did not take it, he would be woken by the same phantom agony every night, the curse that Potter had placed on him continuing to affect him. Whatever the magic was, he could only hope it would run its course. He did not want to become addicted to the dreamless sleep.
Thus far, he had managed to cope by only taking it two or three times a week, but the ongoing dreams was beginning to increase his need. The days after he did not take it, he was exhausted, his mind and body drained, deprived of the rest both needed to function. For the first week, he had coped, but even he needed his rest. There was no magic nor potion that was a suitable substitute in the long term.
Releasing an irritable sigh, he placed the phial in the box of many that Severus had provided him and took a seat behind his desk as a knock sounded.
"Come in."
Augustus Rookwood entered the room, bowing respectfully as he always did.
"My lord," the man greeted. "I believe I am close to finding a way to get into the department without being detected."
Voldemort nodded. The need to hear the prophecy had only become more urgent since he had learnt of the fate of most of his horcruxes. He was still waiting for the Malfoy boy to bring him the diadem, but retrieving the prophecy was his next priority. He needed to know just what it was he faced.
"Excellent, Augustus," he offered tiredly. "Is there any word on the whereabouts of Bellatrix."
Augustus shook his head.
"No, my lord. We have everyone available looking for her, but nothing yet."
Voldemort gritted his teeth in irritation. If he did not feel so vulnerable, he would seek her out himself but would not do so until he was assured by at least one more of his horcruxes. What was the Malfoy whelp playing at? He should have retrieved it by now.
Cursing the boy's incompetence, he offered Rookwood an appreciative nod.
"Thank you, Augustus, continue as you are," he instructed.
The man bowed before exiting and the Dark Lord turned and caught sight of himself in the mirror in the corner of the room. He was tired and it showed, his already pale skin making the bags under his eyes stand out prominently.
Whatever Potter had done to him was haunting him and making his days miserable. With a huff of irritation, he took one of the vials from the box, popped the cork and downed the contents, grimacing at the bitter taste of both the potion and defeat he felt.
He needed time away from the manor, from his Death Eaters and to heal. He could not continue as he was, and he suspected that Augustus would be working on his task for another week or so and Draco would likely take even longer to complete his own.
Perhaps getting away from it all was all he needed. At the very least, he could wake up from his nightly encounters with Potter without the shame of others hearing his screams of pain.
Reminding himself to punish Lucius for the sedate pace his son was taking and to inform him immediately when he returned, he stood from behind his desk as the potion began to take.
"Potter," he growled sleepily as he all but collapsed on the bed in the adjoining room.
(Break)
Dolores Umbridge observed the first year Hufflepuff scratching away with one of her quills, the enjoyment she felt soothing the anger she had been feeling since she learnt that Potter was no longer considered a student. The ecstasy she would have felt at seeing him in this position would not compare to what she felt now, but it was better than nothing.
The girl looked up at her pathetically as she realised what was happening and Dolores smiled, nodding satisfactorily as she dared the girl to speak out. She choked on a sob as the blood began to drip from the back of her hand.
"You only have yourself to blame," Dolores sighed.
It was not as though anyone would believe the brat. She was a mudblood of no consequence. She had chosen her victim carefully, one who would neither dare speak out against her nor one any would believe if she did. It was not as though she would subject her to it to cause permanent harm, just long enough that she was satisfied.
She had waited for this day for months, after all, and though Potter had eluded her, there was nothing to stop her from finally getting the students in line.
(Break)
The days following his conversation with Malfoy had seen Harry pondering just what approaches were available to him regarding gaining access to Nagini and Narcissa with minimal danger to himself. He knew that he could not avoid all risk, but it truly brought home how far he was willing to go to ensure he not only lived but was also the one to eventually kill Voldemort.
During his musings, he had considered many options and had reached one conclusion, and it was not one he was comfortable with but the one that had the best chance of success.
He could not trust any that carried the Dark Mark. Even placing one under the Imperius Curse would present more risk than he was willing to take. Even Snape could not be trusted. One could never understand the motivations of such a person, as Tom had rightly said when he revealed the man had once been a follower of the Dark Lord. No, he would not risk it, and though it left him with only one other possibility, it was the preferable choice. Not that it appealed to him anymore than the others but with this, he would have no need to rely on another to get him into the manor.
"Are you okay, 'Arry?" Sebastien asked from across the table, offering him a look of concern. "You were miles away."
Harry shook his head dismissively.
"It's just been a busy week."
It had. He had taught his first charms lessons and had continued with transfiguration also. Although it was tiring, he found he enjoyed them equally.
"Teaching is difficult, I imagine," Sebastien replied, receiving a nod of confirmation from Fleur.
"Even assisting a Professor is not easy," she sighed, "but it is fun and 'Arry is doing a very good job. I think Professor McGonagall wants 'im to replace 'er when she retires."
"What makes you think that?" Harry asked, a light frown forming on his brow.
"I 'eard 'er say it to Professor Flitwick," Fleur answered with a shrug.
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
He hadn't considered teaching much beyond what he was already doing. He could understand the appeal of doing so. It was certainly a satisfying job, one that could be as challenging as it was rewarding. It was worth thinking about, but not now. Now, he needed to focus on the task at hand and come to terms with what it was he would need to do.
Although Sebastien had accepted his dismissive comment, Fleur had not and was looking at him questioningly. She had become very adept at reading his moods and it was only a matter of time before he would have to inform her of his plans.
He mouthed the word 'later' to her and she nodded, knowing he would explain just what was on his mind when he was ready.
Not wanting to think about it further, he tucked into his dinner, enjoying that it was now the weekend and he had a couple of days of respite. Well, this evening at the very least. Tomorrow, he would be taking Fleur to his home where she would be meeting a thousand-year-old basilisk for the first time.
He shook his head at the thought, amused by the range of reactions the veela could have when she laid eyes on the enormous serpent.
"Has the ICW made a decision on the application to investigate Fudge?" he asked Sebastien who wiped his mouth with a napkin and nodded severely.
"They 'ave decided they will carry one out. If your Minister 'as anything to 'ide, they will find it," he assured him. "I expect that you will 'ave a new one before long."
"No less than he deserves," Harry muttered. "With a bit of luck, Britain won't be lumbered with another idiot like him."
Fudge would never be more than a fool in his eyes. He had, however, given a date for the ceremony for him to receive his Order of Merlin, though not out of the goodness of his heart.
It was a little over a month away and not something he was looking forward to.
"That will be up to the Wizengamot to decide," Sebastien pointed out. "Your country does not 'ave a good 'istory of choosing Ministers."
"No, it doesn't," Harry agreed.
It had certainly been some time since someone competent had been in office. Millicent Bagnold had been rather poor, her inaction and reticence having only helped Voldemort during the previous war. It wasn't until Barty Crouch lobbied for lethal force and brought to light the devastation that had been wrought did anything change, and almost too late at that.
They needed someone in office who was strong, had integrity and would not be corrupted by people like Lucius Malfoy.
Did such a person exist in the political world?
Harry had his doubts but what choices would there be? How many people would put themselves willingly in that position and do what needed to be done?
Off the top of his head, he could think of no one, though it was unlikely any of those eligible could do a worse job than Cornelius Fudge.
(Break)
Albus Dumbledore sat opposite his potions master, the man appearing to be more unsettled than he usually was when he had been summoned by the Dark Lord. However, he waited for him to speak knowing he would not appreciate being pressed.
"The Dark Lord has recently experienced a trauma he has not disclosed to me," Severus began. "He has requested a considerable quantity of dreamless sleep and seems to be ingesting it quite regularly."
Dumbledore nodded knowingly.
"I believe that young Harry is responsible for what is ailing him," he replied. "He was very forthcoming with me of what it was he has done to neutralise Ms Lestrange. I believe the Dark Lord was unable to resist investigating just what that was and fell victim to a rather clever ploy."
"Potter?" Severus questioned.
"Indeed," Dumbledore confirmed. "He brought to my attention that he had need of her some time ago and took the opportunity to set the ingenious trap. Tell me, Severus, what are his symptoms?"
Snape shook his head in disbelief.
"I can only imagine whatever was done was something pertaining to the mind arts. If it is preventing the Dark Lord from sleeping peacefully, it simply has to be."
"I agree," the headmaster concurred with a slight bow. "Harry is much closer to victory than I ever believed possible. It is only a matter of time before they meet on even ground."
Severus released a deep breath.
"Headmaster I…"
"You should not underestimate him, Severus," Dumbledore implored. "He will be ready. I will soon invite him to spend time with me. Although he has proven himself capable, there is still much he can learn."
Snape frowned for a moment as he absorbed the words of the older man.
"So, you do not expect the war to be as it was before?"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"I do not, my friend. I believe you will be free soon enough."
"I will never be free," Severus denied. "One day he will learn the truth."
"I believe he already knows it," Dumbledore sighed, "though he has not said as much. At this point, I believe there is very little that Harry has not discovered for himself."
"Then I must question why he has not raised it with me? If I were him, I would not wish to be in the same room as me."
"You are not him, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "Perhaps he will raise it one day, and you will have to explain yourself. Until then, take comfort in knowledge that he has not demonstrated a grudge against you."
Severus nodded as he stood.
"I have been prepared for that day for almost fifteen years, headmaster. When it comes and if he is not satisfied with my answer, I will accept what is coming."
Dumbledore offered him a sympathetic smile.
"So long as it brings you peace, Severus. You have carried this burden for so long and I would see you relieved of it. However, I would not presume to know Harry's mind, but he is not one to carry his grudges for long. If retribution was what he sought, I believe he would have done so already."
"Only time will tell," the potions master replied grimly as he took his leave from the office.
(Break)
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Harry questioned a nervous Fleur as they stood facing the forest that Serna had made her home.
She shook her head.
"I don't think I ever will be," she replied shakily. "What if she does not like me?"
"You will be fine," Harry comforted. "I've already told her you're coming, and she is excited to meet you. I think she is more nervous than you are."
"I doubt it," Fleur mumbled before taking a deep breath, preparing herself. "Okay, I'm ready."
Harry offered her a smile as he placed his wand to his throat.
" Come, Serana," he hissed gently.
A disturbance within the thicket of trees could been and the sound of something large approaching them slowly could be heard. Eventually, Harry got a glimpse of the giant serpent's head protruding from a gap and he chuckled.
" It's safe," he assured the creature.
" Does she want to hurt me?"
" I would never let anyone hurt you," Harry promised.
The snake seemed to ponder his words for a moment before accepting them and slowly emerging from where she had hidden most of herself.
Fleur could only gasp as the size of Serana was revealed as she slithered cautiously towards them.
"She cannot be real," she whispered.
She had never seen anything so utterly enormous and terrifying in her life. She had thought the dragon she faced during the first task of the tournament would be the pinnacle of fear she could feel when it came to creatures. The basilisk had all but obliterated that sentiment in less than a minute.
"She's very real and very misunderstood. She is actually quite sweet."
She could see the affection he held for the snake and it warmed her. Serana had been one of the few constants in his life and it was clear that he treasured her.
Turning her attention back to the basilisk, who had paused a dozen or so feet away, she looked her over from the tip of her tail to the gently flaring nostrils and eventually into her eyes. They were a soft yellow colour and full of the same nervousness she felt. She would never have believed such a creature was capable of such depth had she not seen it for herself.
Still, the serpent was undeniably terrifying, but she too was scared, something she could sympathise with.
" Would you like to meet her?" Harry asked Serana whose eyes were fixated on the young woman beside him.
She nodded and approached carefully until her nose was a few inches from Fleur's chest.
The latter of the two had frozen as the basilisk sniffed her tentatively, daring not to even breathe.
"She really likes it when you pet her nose," Harry reminded her.
Fleur swallowed deeply and nodded as she reached out with a trembling hand. The warmth and smoothness of the scales took her by surprise, and she smiled as the snake closed her eyes and purred contentedly.
"She is sweet," she whispered as she began rubbing the softer skin above her maw. "Aww, she does like it."
Harry grinned as he breathed a sigh of relief. Although Serana had agreed to the meeting, he had been nervous how she would react to another person. She had not had good experiences with witches and wizards, after all.
" I told you it would be fine," he said to the snake.
She nodded as her eyes opened, the sight of the happiness she was showing making the effort it took to get her here even more worth it.
" I like her," she declared, "she has soft hands."
Harry laughed and Fleur shot him a questioning look.
"She likes you."
Fleur nodded as she continued with her ministrations.
"I like 'er too," she replied. "She's amazing."
"And very dangerous," Harry added. "I don't think I'll have to worry about anyone getting in here."
"Non, I don't think you do," Fleur snorted. "Is that 'Edwig?"
Harry looked to where she was pointing and nodded, lifting his arm for the owl to take a perch on.
"They've become friends in a way," he explained. "Hedwig likes to fly over the forest whilst Serana is exploring."
Fleur shook her head amusedly and used her free hand to pet the bird before releasing a sigh.
"I really like it 'ere, 'Arry. It's very peaceful and your 'ome is beautiful."
"You've only seen it from the outside. Would you like me to show you around?"
She nodded and Hedwig hopped off Harry's shoulder and onto Serana's head, the snake giving the bird an irritable hiss but did nothing to remove her.
"Be good, both of you," Harry chuckled.
Hedwig released a squawk of indignation as she took to the sky and headed over the trees, the basilisk giving them a final look of appreciation before charging after her.
Harry and Fleur watched until they were out of sight and the sounds of the snake crashing through the tundra faded.
Taking her by the hand, Harry led her into the house, the kitchen still being the place he spent most of his time when he was here.
Fleur nodded approvingly at the marble floor and granite worktops.
"Did you do this?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, the kitchen was like this when I brought it. I like it so left it as it is."
"It is very nice," she complimented.
"It's the only room I didn't change," Harry explained as he crossed the threshold into one of the parlours, followed by the veela. "I don't really use these rooms right now."
They passed through into a lounge area where one of the walls had been removed and filled with thick windows that looked over the mountains to a village below and onto a deck where a table, chairs and hot tub had been set up.
"Sirius bought me that for Christmas," Harry revealed with a shrug. "It's nice on the deck at night-time."
Fleur believed him. It was truly one of the most tranquil places she had ever been, and Harry had clearly worked hard to make the house feel that way.
"Over there is a bathroom, my office and a function room," he explained, pointing to a corridor. "On the other side is the entrance to the basement. There's something in there I think you'll like," he added as he took her by the hand once more.
They entered the basement that had once been a wine cellar, though one would never guess. Harry had converted the space into his training area. One side of the room was lined with bookshelves full of the works he had accumulated over the years and those he had taken from the room of hidden things that could prove to be useful.
The other was full of exercise equipment and training dummies. Fleur knew he took his training seriously but had not expected such an expanse of space being dedicated to it nor all the different equipment he evidently used.
"This is very impressive, 'Arry," she commented, taken aback by the vastness of the space and the work that had gone into it.
"Oh, this is just the training room, that's not what I wanted to show you," he chuckled, beckoning for her to follow him once more.
Having cleared the length of the room, they reached a rather innocuous wall and Harry drew his wand. Muttering under his breath, an archway formed that revealed a roughly hewn set of stairs that descended into the darkness.
"What is it?" Fleur questioned.
"You'll see," Harry replied almost excitedly as he guided her down.
The first indication of what was below them was the sound of running water, and with a wave of his wand, the cavern was lit.
Fleur's eyes widened as she looked upon a large, clear body of water with a waterfall cascading off the opposite side of the rocks.
"Did you make this?" she asked.
Harry nodded.
"I created it as a last resort escape route. The waterfall will take me all the way to the sea where I have a boat waiting. That way, I won't leave any magical trace that can be tracked. I just hope I never have to use it."
"Anyone would be foolish to try and get to you 'ere, 'Arry."
"They would," he agreed, "but the world is full of idiots."
"That is true."
Harry took a moment to marvel at his creation. The waterfall was perhaps his greatest magical feat to date and had been crafted using a series of enchantments.
"Anyway, I haven't shown you the upstairs yet. It will be very anticlimactic compared to this," he forewarned her.
The two of them made their way back through the training room and up the stairs before passing through the corridor and up another flight to the final part of the house she had yet to see.
"There are two bathrooms up here and six bedrooms, all with their own private bathroom. I don't understand the logic behind that, but that's what there is," he explained with a shrug. "This one is my bedroom and the others are empty," he added as he opened the first door he had indicated.
The room was very simply decorated with little of the wealth the rest of the house had on show. There was a large bed, some bookshelves and a desk, but little else.
It wasn't until she looked towards the open fire that she caught sight of anything that would give a clue as to who the room belonged to. Perched upon the mantle were two photos; the very same one he had shown her of him and his parents and one of the two of them dancing by the lake, both framed and given pride of place.
She picked up the latter and stared at it, the captured moment filling her with the feeling she had experienced that night, though a pressing question formed in her mind.
"What are you going to do with the other rooms?" she asked.
Harry shrugged in response.
"Maybe one day I'll be able to have children," he answered quietly. "When all this is over, and the time is right."
She was surprised by the answer, though she should not have been. Despite his own upbringing, she had seen how he was with Gabrielle, how attentive he was and willing to cater to her whims.
"Is that what you want, one day?"
He nodded.
"It is. I've never had a family and would like one. I'd like my family name to continue. I might be the last one left at the moment, but it doesn't mean I have to be."
"Non, it doesn't," Fleur agreed.
She had never really thought about having children but would like to have a family of her own like the one she shared with her parents and her sister. She appreciated what she had, but it would not last forever. Eventually, she would leave home, as would Gabrielle and things would inevitably change. Although she had not paid much thought to it, it was something she too wanted for herself in the future, of that, she was certain.
"Well, you do 'ave five rooms to fill," she joked.
He grinned as he returned the gesture, his mind filled with the image he had seen in the Mirror of Erised.
"One day," he murmured, the girl smiling brightly at him, now somewhat aware of what his innermost desire was.
It was her he had seen standing by his side with the shadowy figures around them. Family is all he had ever wanted even if he had not dared acknowledge it even to himself. Now, however, he dared to dream that such a thing could one day become a reality.
(Break)
Every sound made her jump, the fear she felt creeping into her very bones as she trembled from it and the cold of the dungeons. She had not been summoned for some time, but it was inevitable that it would happen.
She had been abandoned, for now, and left to rot in her own filth. Lucius had not visited, nor had any other for that matter other than the guard who would deliver her a meagre meal. Sometimes, he would spit in it in front of her. Merlin only knew what he did to it where she couldn't see, but she ate, nonetheless.
Why? She knew not.
Perhaps she clung on to a slither of hope that she would be freed from this hell or that she was too stubborn to die here?
No, she clung to no hope. She had given up on such a notion when Lucius had allowed her to be treated this way, even though he was all that stood between her and the fate that had befallen her.
Still, she knew it could be worse. Her body had recovered from the torture she had endured but was now plagued by weakness from having been deprived of adequate food.
She knew that it was only a matter of time before she would succumb, but she would not relieve them of the burden she was, not until she was dragged from this world.
She had been a Black once and the Blacks did not go quietly into the night.
(Break)
"Are you sure there isn't any other way?" she whispered as they appeared at the gates of Hogwarts on a bitter Monday morning.
He shook his head.
"I've thought about it for too long already," he sighed. "There is no other way I can make this work without bringing someone else in and it's a risk I'm not willing to take. Too many things could go wrong."
Fleur nodded her understanding.
"I just want you to be sure before you do it to yourself."
He offered her a grateful smile.
When he had explained his intentions, she had spent the weekend thinking of alternatives to the plan he had concocted, to no avail. She knew as well as he did that the opportunity before him would be the best he would get, despite the risks involved, though he had minimised them as much as he could.
Not that the ones that remained would be favourable outcomes, but they would be preferable to the other alternatives that could befall him were he to take a different avenue.
"It will be fine," he assured her. "I have no intentions of getting caught.
"I know, 'Arry, I just do not like the thought of you being…"
She paused, her eyes widening as a yelp escaped her.
Harry frowned as he followed her gaze and took in the familiar snake that slithered towards them. It had grown considerably since he had last seen it and sent it to spy on Umbridge.
"You're really scared of him after meeting Serana?" he chuckled.
"'E caught me off guard," Fleur defended with a huff as Harry picked up the reptile.
" Hello, little one. You're not so little anymore!"
" The redhead ones filled the pink lady's room with rats, and I feasted," the snake answered gleefully.
Harry laughed.
" Well, what has dragged you away from the feast?"
" The pink lady is hurting the little girl. She was crying and bleeding from her hand."
" What do you mean?" Harry frowned, any amusement he felt evaporating instantly.
" She made the little girl do the thing you do with the feather and it was hurting her. The words were on her hands and bleeding."
Although he did not understand what the snake was referring to, he'd heard enough to provoke his fury, something that did not go unnoticed by Fleur.
"What is it, 'Arry? You're angry."
He was beyond anger, his balled hands trembling as he tried to maintain his composure.
"Can you think of a quill that would make someone bleed?"
Fleur frowned at the question and gasped a she realised what he meant.
" A blood quill would do that if you wrote with it too much," she answered in French, glancing around to check that no one was eavesdropping.
" A blood quill?"
" They are used to sign official contracts with banks and maybe the Ministry," she explained. "They are very illegal to own personally, and the use is heavily regulated."
Harry growled as he drew his wand and began stalking towards the castle.
" Non, 'Arry, wait," Fleur pleaded, stepping in front of him. "You cannot just go and attack her without proof."
" No one else will do anything about it," he growled. "I have all the proof I need."
" I believe him too, 'Arry," she said, attempting to calm him, "but you have to be smarter than her."
" I want her to suffer!"
" And she will, but not like this. You must focus on what you're doing. Let me deal with Umbridge, oui?"
Harry shook his head but was stopped from proceeding by the stubborn veela.
" Let me deal with her, 'Arry. I will make sure she never hurts anyone again. I promise, she will not get away with this. Don't risk everything you have worked towards for her. Please?"
" Aren't you risking the same?"
" Non," Fleur denied. "Because you will probably kill her and will kick up a huge scene. I will use her own connections against her."
" What do you mean?"
Fleur merely offered him a sinister smirk before kissing him on the cheek.
" Leave it with me, 'Arry. Trust that I will do the right thing for everyone, oui?"
He could only nod as her eyes began to narrow, her pupils enlarging considerably. She was angry and that did not bode well for Dolores Umbridge.
He certainly would not pity her, though he was interested to see what Fleur would do.
" I will save the memory for you," she promised as she entered the castle.
There was a vicious and vindictive side to veela that was seldom mentioned, but it was there, and he had a feeling that Madame Umbridge was not going to enjoy being introduced to it.
(Break)
In the confines of the room of requirement, he could not help but have second thoughts on his approach. He had read and reread the notes he had taken when Tom had been there to explain the magic behind it, understanding it much more than he had back then. Understanding it did little to alleviate the disgust it filled him with. Carrying out the plan felt as though he was spitting on the memory of his parents, adopting everything it was they stood against. However, it had to be done and he would deal with the fallout afterwards.
Releasing a deep breath, he put the notes aside as he drew the phoenix feather wand that had been decommissioned by its creator, the elder wand having nullified the magic with a few simple spells.
It felt wrong in his hands now, the core no longer complimenting his own magic without the presence of Tom's.
Nevertheless, he persevered, wrested it under control and set to work, hissing under his breath and grimacing from the searing sensation.
After a several moments, he panted as he took in the appearance of the newly applied Dark Mark and dropped the phoenix feather wand.
From what he understood of the magic, it had not been tied directly to Voldemort's, his ego once again knowing no bounds. Instead, he had merely relied on the assumption that no other would be able to replicate the required parseltongue, something that Harry had taken advantage of.
He had, however, opted to use the wand with the same core, not only to be as close a match to the magic as possible, but so he did not stain either of his own with the required task. The act had already sullied him, and he would not have the same of his wand.
Readying himself, he gathered his cloak and wands before taking his leave of the castle and the grounds. The moment for action had arrived and he had already delayed the inevitable excursion enough.
Ensuring the cloak was covering him entirely, he apparated away and appeared at the edge of the wards of the manor he had been watching for the past weeks.
Taking a moment to both compose and brace himself, he stepped through them and paused, the first ward that required the mark allowing him to bypass the others, or so he believed. When he was on the other side, he stilled, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for any sign that those within the house had been alerted.
After five minutes, he concluded they remained ignorant of his presence and he slowly made his way around the perimeter of the property until he found himself at the rear of the building and on the edge of the woods Malfoy had described.
It was silent within, the trees different to his own back home and the smell also. The smell here was musty, lacking the sweetness of the fruit that grew on his land.
It was as unfamiliar as it was unsettling. Somewhere nearby, the final horcrux was roaming, he could feel that the snake was in there.
He cast a few charms to silence his feet and conceal his scent. He did not wish to take any chances with the creature. She would be more dangerous than any regular serpent and he would eliminate her before she could become aware of him if possible. It would not do to be bitten by her. He knew of the alterations Voldemort had made to her venom, and though he could counter it, the effects would leave him unwell and indisposed of for days.
Listening carefully, he took his first steps amongst the trees, and made his way through the woodland, not daring to breathe too loudly lest she was to hear him. It was unnerving, the clandestine nature of his undertaking not one he preferred nor relished, but one that was necessary.
After having searched for an inordinate amount of time, he heard movement and he stilled as something ahead of him disturbed a pile of leaves followed by an unwelcoming hissing. Despite his efforts to conceal himself, she was on edge, her tongue flicking as she attempted to taste him on the air.
He could not be certain if the magic of the cloak would conceal him from her sight, but he had little choice but to chance it as she slithered closer. When she was only a few feet away, she stopped.
" I know you are there. I can smell you, human."
With minimal movement, he drew the fang he had taken from Serana carefully as Nagini began circling him, her hissing continuing.
" My master told me about you. Told me that you wish to hurt us. He will be pleased when I present your corpse to him."
Harry suddenly had to duck to avoid the lunging reptile, the bulk of her body passing over his head before she crashed to the ground, spitting furiously.
" You cannot hide from me!"
Focusing his magic and thinking quickly, he responded.
" I'm not hiding from you. Come and find me, Nagini!"
The snake turned sharply as his voice rang out all around them and he seized the advantage, burying the basilisk fang in the back of her head whilst she was distracted.
The snake, however, was not done. In her final throes of life, she continued to hiss, her words unintelligible as she attempted to sink her own fangs into him, with little success to show for her efforts. Eventually, a scream of anguish rent the air as she fell still and an unpleasant, black ooze leaked from her wound.
To be certain the deed was done, he removed her head with a cutting curse and took a moment to lean up against a nearby tree.
Much to his relief, he had found her far enough away from the house that none would have heard the altercation between them, reminding him that his evening here had barely begun. Nagini may have been killed, but there were other things he needed to attend to.
When his heart was steady enough, he left the corpse of the snake and headed towards the house.
" Homenum Revelio," he whispered, his spell indicating that there were several dozen people within the home and even a few patrolling the outside.
He was not here for them this evening. Undoubtedly, they would meet in the months or years to come, but not tonight. Tonight, he was here for two people and maybe a few others if they got in his way.
Steeling himself, he approached the rear door of the house, this being where the least amount of people were and unlocked it with a flick of the elder wand. Checking once more that his cloak fully covered him, he pushed the door open gently and entered, his eyes scanning the immediate area.
He found himself in a large drawing room of sorts with a large open fire and a few plush sofas and chairs situated around a large table. The room itself was empty and he moved silent across it. He found himself peering into a long corridor with several doors lining the walls on both sides.
With his wand poised, he passed through it unhindered and found himself in a living area where various Death Eaters were spread around, some sleeping, others sat in small groups and talking amongst themselves. A few he recognised as people that had once been students at the castle and he felt no pity for them for what was to come. They had made their choices and would have to live with the consequences.
Again, he ignored the urge to deal with them now and began climbing the staircase. He had his suspicions about Lucius Malfoy and was proven right when he came across a double set of doors with the Malfoy crest displayed prominently in the centre. It was the kind of egotistical thing the man would do, even in his own home.
Shaking his head, he reached out so his hand was only an inch away from the door and closed his eyes. The magic on it was old, likely having been cast when the house had first been built, though he had been adapted and changed somewhat over the years, but with a bit of feeling out, he was able to identify the spells used.
It took only a moment for the lock to click and the door to open from his manipulation of the magic. He gave a final glance around the hallway to ensure there was no one around before entering and finding himself in another lengthy corridor, this one, however only having four doors.
The one leading to the master bedroom was easy to identify, again being emblazoned with the family crest, and much to his relief, no lock he needed to pick. As keen as he was to gain entry, it would be foolish to rush in. As such, he cast a few charms on the door, turning it transparent from his side and saw the pretentiously large bed had one person sleeping in it, the tell-tale platinum blonde hair confirming he was in the right place.
When he was certain the man was indeed asleep, he pushed the door open and set to work on the required spells so that he would not be disturbed.
"Who's there?" a hoarse but alert voice questioned as he finished.
Evidently, Lucius was a light sleeper and had been alerted to his presence. No longer slumbering, he was sat upright with his wand in hand, staring at the still open door.
With a growl of annoyance, he kicked the thick duvet off himself and stood. Crossing the room, he muttered curses before slamming it shut and locking it with a series of spells, only to unleash a bloodcurdling scream as the hand that clutched his wand fell to the floor with a dull thud.
"I did tell you I was coming for you," Harry spat, stomping on the other hand that reached for the severed limb.
A loud crunch of breaking bones and another scream escaped the man as he desperately scrambled away, his effort to do so proving fruitless as something wrapped tightly around his neck and pulled him back towards the boy.
He could only look up fearfully at the baleful glare from the hate-filled eyes of Harry Potter as he choked, his own bulging in their sockets from the pressure.
"Oh, no, you're not going to die so easily, Malfoy," Harry hissed as he loosened the grip of his noose. "No, you deserve some special treatment."
With a flick of his wrist, the rope vanished, and a streak of flame snapped against the man's face, cutting deeply as it seared the flesh.
Another agonised wail sounded, though no one other than him could hear it. The smell of burning skin was not something he would ever get used to but the satisfaction he felt made it bearable.
Lucius pawed at his face with his remaining broken hand, whimpering as he felt the deep gash that started at his hairline and finished just under the chin, his eyes pleading for him to relent.
Harry had no intention to do so and struck out against the man with three more strokes of the flame whip that lashed against his back.
"Come one, Lucius, where's that pureblood superiority you like to brag about? You're not going to let a filthy half-blood get the better of you, are you?"
With another crack of the whip, the man fell limp, the skin on his back torn, scorched and smouldering, yet he breathed, and Harry doused him with a jet of cool water, bringing him round with a screech.
By now, the stump where his hand had once been had bled copiously and pooled around him on the floor. Regardless of what Harry did now, he would die soon but the teen was not yet content.
Kicking the man onto his back, he took in his pathetic appearance before driving his heel into his nose and setting upon him, ramming his thumbs into his eye sockets.
Lucius Malfoy was responsible for the misery of perhaps hundreds of witches and wizards, Harry included and something within him had snapped. He pushed harder, ignoring the man's roaring pain as he was unable to fight off the teen despite his best efforts with a bloody stump and useless hand.
With a final gurgle, his eyes popped, and as Lucius breathed his final breaths, Harry leaned in closer wanting him to hear his final words.
"I warned you, Malfoy," he whispered. "You, those fools down there, nor your master had any idea what I am willing to do to see the end of you all. Now you know and they will too. I hope there is a special hell reserved for shits like you, but don't worry, your son will join you soon enough I imagine."
The Malfoy patriarch could only wheeze a pleading protest before his body gave out and he fell still a final time, his life ended by a boy bent on revenge against him.
Harry looked upon the lifeless form of Lucius Malfoy and cleansed himself of his blood, having already tainted himself enough for one evening, the stark reminder of such still burning the skin on the inside of his left forearm.
With a final look of disgust, he wrapped his cloak around himself once more and exited the room, the house seemingly none the wiser to what had occurred.
Making his way down the stairs, most of the Death Eaters that had been in the living area were gone, likely having gone to bed themselves. Although a few remained, his path to the kitchen he could see on the other side of the room was clearer than it had been, and he managed to enter it with no problem. As he came to a sloping staircase that, according to Draco, led to the dungeons, he could see a single figure at the bottom standing guard, a face he recognised from the article in the Daily Prophet when the Azkaban outbreak had been announced.
It was Rabastan Lestrange, one of the men that had been captured after he had helped torture the Longbottoms along with his brother, Barty Crouch Jr and Bellatrix.
He had no personal connection to Neville, but he would appreciate knowing that justice had been served to one of those were it his own parents that had been victimised in such a way.
Carefully, he made his way down the stairs as he drew the basilisk fang and silenced the man with a flick of his wand. Not even a murmur escaped him as it was stabbed into his throat without preamble.
The eyes widened in shock, and he clawed desperately at his wound, but Serana's venom was too potent ad he died a miserable, painful death in only a matter of seconds, his body sliding down the very door he had stood vigil at.
(Break)
Her breath hitched in her chest as she heard the disturbance outside her door. Was she finally being summoned before the Dark Lord again? She held her breath, shaking from the overwhelming fear that came over her, a slight whimper sounding as the door was opened.
She found herself unable to scream as a limp body was flung into the room and another figure entered, the face not one she knew.
"If you want to get out of here, you need to be quiet and do exactly as I say," the young man whispered.
"Who are you?" she asked worriedly.
Her position was not a favourable one, but she was not foolish enough to wander off with a stranger without explanation.
He sighed, his nose wrinkling as he caught a whiff of her scent.
"Right now, that doesn't matter. I'm here to get you out and take you to your sister."
"Bella?" Narcissa breathed.
He nodded and waved his wand over her a few times as he muttered under his breath.
Much to her relief, she found herself clean for the first time in weeks, and though nothing could substitute a hot bath, it was better than nothing.
"I need to know where the closest exit is to the kitchen."
Narcissa swallowed, hardly daring to believe this was really happening.
"There is a hidden passage that leads to the greenhouses next to the cooker," she informed him.
He nodded as he pulled her to her feet, her legs shaking under the strain of her own weight.
Instead of leading her immediately from the room, he turned his attention to the body on the ground and began transfiguring it.
"It's best if they think you died here," he explained.
"They won't fall for that," she sighed.
"They'll be more interested in other things to look too closely," he replied cryptically as he cast a disillusionment charm on her and led her from her cell and up the staircase. "I will open the passageway and you will start heading towards the greenhouses, I have one more thing to do," he instructed.
Frowning, she placed her hand on a brick above one of the hobs and the hidden door opened.
"Go," he hissed as she hesitated.
Not needing to be told twice, she all but ran as quickly as her feeble legs could carry her until she made it to the steps that would take her up into one of the greenhouses. He joined her only a moment later and she got the first real glimpse of him, his features no longer obscured by the shadows of her cell nor darkness of the kitchen.
"Thank you," she said sincerely.
He shook his head and snorted.
"You will not want to thank me when you learn of what has happened tonight, but for now, that isn't important. We need to get away from here."
He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her from the greenhouse, his wand whipping up quickly and felling a death eater that strayed across their path, the sickly green jet of light ending the life of the man instantly.
Undeterred, they pressed on with him leading her towards the boundary and across the wards in only a matter of moments.
"Here," he said, all but ramming an empty phial into her chest. "This will take you to Bellatrix. I would suggest you do not ever come back here."
"What about my son?" she asked desperately.
The young man shook his head.
"Draco does not care what happens to you. When he told me about your situation, the only person he shared a modicum of concern for was Lucius. Now, go."
Before she could protest, an ear-splitting explosion sounded in the distance and she got little more than a sparing glance at the green flames that erupted from what was once her home as the portkey activated, tearing her away from the life she had built for herself.
(Break)
Harry looked on in satisfaction at the ensuing chaos. Malfoy Manor was burning, Nagini was dead, Lucius was dead and likely many that had been within the home also, though less than he desired. If he had his way, they would all perish in the blaze, but many were fighting their way out, gathering on the lawn, dumbstruck by the turn the evening had taken.
He could hear raised voices questioning what had happened, with no answers forthcoming.
His nostrils flared as he allowed himself a final moment to enjoy the spectacle before he activated his own portkey and appeared in front of his home.
He took a deep breath of relief before entering, the night's work having been more successful than he had bargained for. He had not planned his little surprise at the end but could not resist. Not only did it serve to eliminate more Death Eaters, it would also send a message to Voldemort. He only wished he could be there when he learned of what happened.
No matter, he had one other thing that required his attention before the night was over, the thing he had been dreading most of all.
Removing his trunk from his pocket, he resized it and retrieved his collection of potion vials he kept handy, though not for occasions like this. He selected the required brews and checked the quality of them before lining them up on the table and taking off his shirt. He added another, much larger quantity of another liquid to the collection and turned his attention to what needed to be done.
The Dark Mark stood out prominently on his much paler skin, the mere sight of it offending him. Were there any other way to be rid of it, he would take it, but so offensive it was, he was willing to take the crude root required.
With his shaking hands, he undid his belt, pulled it through the loops of his trousers and folded it. Placing it in his mouth, he bit down on the leather and conjured a large blade.
Flashback
" The mark is not something easily removed. It is designed to be permanent and will feed off the magic of the one branded to resist any attempt. It must be starved of magic. That is the only way it can be erased."
Harry nodded thoughtfully as he wrote down the seemingly unimportant information. He had no intention of removing any Dark Mark. Those that carried it were guilty as far as he was concerned.
Tom, however, wanted him to fully understand the magic and he agreed that it was best to be overprepared than under.
End Flashback
Taking a deep breath, he swung the blade downwards with as much force as he could muster, fighting against his own instincts to prevent the self-mutilation.
It hurt, not as much as the Cruciatus Curse but enough to make his vision swim and blur. He cried out as his arm below the elbow hit the table and he felt the blood pouring from the wound.
To avoid bleeding out, he pulled the cork from one of the vials with his teeth and downed the contents, and with his time limited, he set to work.
Firstly, he needed to centre himself and focus on the task at hand. Using the elder wand, he managed to conjure a silvery liquid that he warped into something that resembled his dismembered limb. With another flick, it solidified, and he carefully affixed it to the steadily bleeding stub, releasing a staggered breath as the two melded together.
When it was done, he reached for his potions, uncorked and drank the remaining elixirs, his vision returning and pain subsiding a few moments later.
Now, being able to think more clearly, he flexed his newly created fingers and made a fist. He nodded satisfactorily. If all went as planned, it would be only a temporary solution, however, if he wanted his own arm back, he needed to ensure it was preserved properly but in a way the magic of the mark could not be fed. As such, he had acquired a vat of formalin to preserve his arm until it could be reattached, hopefully in only a matter of days.
Yawing, he placed his arm in the liquid before sitting and resting his head on the table. He was exhausted and his body needed rest. With little prompting, sleep came to him quickly, and though it would be fitful, he did not fight it knowing it was the best thing to help him recover.