How the Mighty Do Fall
A/N
Only three more to go after this including the Epilogue. For those of you that don't know, the penultimate chapter is up in the usual place and the epilogue will be posted this coming Saturday :)
With this almost over, my first chapter of the Harry/Narcissa fic will follow here around a week after the Epilogue is posted here, so do follow me to be notified when that is.
It will be entitled 'Whispers of a Raven' and will be a time travel fic. If you enjoyed 'Stepping Back', I have no doubt you will enjoy this also.
Anyway, follow favourite and review as always,
TBR
With Harry doing what he was, she needed a distraction, and the revelation of what Umbridge was up to, could not have come at a better time. The woman disgusted her already with her ways, her views, and her sense of superiority. Fleur would enjoy being the one to ruin her, to rid the school of the odious, foul Professor.
Her work had begun immediately with a trip to the potion stores and then a trip home during lunch time for a conversation with her father.
He had been apoplectic with rage when he learned of what Umbridge had done, and it took much effort on her part to prevent him from going to the castle himself. She had managed to calm him somewhat, explain her plan, and though it was risky, he had surprisingly agreed with her and set about completing his own part on her behalf.
By the end of the night, Dolores Umbridge would be gone from the castle and likely never heard form again. Even the Minister himself would be unable to help her as he would be far too focused on saving his own skin. He was the one who placed her here, after all.
She positively hummed with anticipation as she approached the office. Finding the door locked with only the simplest of locking spells, she opened it and stepped inside before closing it and reapplying the charm.
She was startled by the sound of meowing emitting from the various pictures and porcelain adorned with kittens but she silenced them with a wave of her wand, cringing at the pink walls and rug that did not fit in with the rustic stone that could be seen everywhere else throughout the castle.
Knowing that dinner was in full swing and that Umbridge liked to oversee the affair for the duration, she set to work first checking the contents of the drawers.
The lower ones were filled with copies of the book she forced the students to use and work dating all the way back to September that had not been marked.
She shook her head at the ineptitude and downright negligence of the woman as tried to open the top drawer, this one locked with the same charm that was on the door. Once more, it opened with little resistance and a feeling of nausea overcame her.
Within was a collection of quills, many of which were not normal. She had only seen a blood quill once and easily identified the red ones as being those. There were, however, others she did not recognise. Amongst the red, there were long, thin one's coloured orange, a short, stout one of purple and one that appeared to be a regular quill that was green.
She had never seen nor heard of such things, but she had no doubt that they would be found to be illegal. There was something deeply sinister about them.
Taking out a magical camera her father had lent her, she took a few pictures before closing and locking the drawer. She then cast a disillusionment charm over herself and the camera before retreating to the corner of the room.
She had already checked the list of detentions for today and saw that Umbridge had scheduled one with a first-year Gryffindor boy. He was a muggleborn who had, according to the reasoning for the punishment, had spoken disrespectfully to her.
Fleur snorted at the thought. Umbridge considered it disrespectful if you sneezed within ten feet of her.
She stiffened as the lock to the door clicked and the woman entered, seemingly unaware of her presence as she hummed an unpleasant tune. She seated herself behind her desk and began reading a book she removed from her bag.
She remained that way until a tentative knock pulled her attention away from her activity, a deep frown marring her features, though it was quickly replaced with an almost feral grin.
"Come in, Mr Abercrombie," she said sweetly.
The door opened to reveal a small, nervous boy who did as he was bid. It was clear that he was terrified of the woman and Fleur felt her blood begin to boil. She knew this boy, had helped him with his charms work on several occasions. He was always polite and eager to learn.
"You will be writing some lines for me this evening," Umbridge explained. "No, there will be no need for your own quill. I shall supply one for you," she added as he opened his bag.
The boy frowned but took his seat and Umbridge opened her top drawer. She stared at the Gryffindor speculatively for a moment and grinned once more as she removed one of the red quills.
She handed it to him along with some parchment and retook her own seat behind the desk, watching him expectantly.
"There isn't any ink, Professor."
"That quill does not require any," Umbridge returned. "You will write the following until I decide you have done enough; I will respect Madame Umbridge."
Fleur grimaced at the smugness in the woman's voice and readied herself.
The small boy scowled and as he pressed the tip of the quill to the parchment, a bright flash illuminated the room startling both him and Dolores Umbridge whose eyes widened in panic.
Fleur ended her charm, her eyes ablaze with the fury she had been keeping at bay.
"The rest of your detention is cancelled, Euan," she all but growled, her focus not shifting from the defence professor. "You can go back to your common room."
The boy looked between the two before nodding and scarpering with the unexpected reprieve he had been given.
"What on earth do you think you are doing?" Umbridge hissed, her cheeks reddening. "How dare you interfere in affairs that do not concern you."
Fleur said nothing, but with a jab of her wand, the woman was banished and sent toppling over her chair to the floor.
"You disgusting pig!" Fleur seethed as she stalked towards the shocked woman and seized her by a handful of hair.
Umbridge shrieked as she was pulled to her feet.
"'Ow dare you do that to a child! Who do you think you are?"
Umbridge screamed as she was flung to the floor once more and she scrambled to reach for her bag where she kept her wand.
She did not reach it in time. Seeing what she was trying to do, Fleur created a whip and lashed it around Umbridge's neck. She felt no pity for her when she choked and even less so as she pulled her towards her.
"Release me, you filthy half-breed," Umbridge gasped.
Fleur ignored the insult, having expected nothing less from the woman. She cared not what Umbridge called her, only for what she had done to the defenceless children of the school. It infuriated her and she would have liked nothing more than to immolate her, but she needed to stick to her plan. That did not mean, however, she could not give her a taste of her own treatment.
With that in mind, she sat her in the seat that Euan had vacated and tied her to it, leaving one of her arms free.
"I will have you locked up for this!" Umbridge vowed.
Fleur could not believe what she was hearing. Did Umbridge not understand the severity of the situation? Did she truly think she was untouchable by the law?
She would soon find out that was not the case. In the meantime, Fleur would show her the error of her ways.
She took the red quill from the desk and smirked at the now paling woman.
"You will be writing lines for me this evening, Dolores," she whispered.
"I will do no such thing," Umbridge declared indignantly.
Fleur felt her fury rise and she saw Umbridge's eyes widen as her own narrowed and began shifting, her anger getting the better of her. She took hold of the older woman's wrist and slammed her hand into the table, eliciting a yelp of pain.
" You will be writing lines for me!"
It was evident that Dolores did not speak French, but the quill being driven into the back of her hand required no translation nor did the agonised scream that escaped her.
"It is not nice feeling so 'elpless, is it?" Fleur asked when the scream faded to a pathetic whimpering. "You should be grateful that it is me 'ere and not 'Arry. You would probably be dead already. Now, start writing," she finished, ripping the quill from where it had stuck.
With her shaking, mutilated hand, the woman gripped the bloodied quill and sobbed.
"What do I w-write?"
"I do not care as long as I 'ear the quill scratching," Fleur bit back.
She was not a cruel person by nature, but Dolores Umbridge had provoked that side to her. She deserved more than what she was getting, and she would get it. For now, Fleur was relieved that Harry's snake had been here to witness what the woman had been doing and that she could put a stop to it.
She stared at the crying woman in disgust for a few moments before rifling through her drawers once more to begin gathering what would be needed.
The photos she had taken were placed on the desk along with the diary the woman kept track what detentions she had given out. The quills were added to the collection as the final piece to a damning and morbid puzzle.
There was no way the woman would see the light of day again, not with what had been uncovered.
When she had finished her gathering, she picked up the chair that had been knocked over and took a seat to watch over Umbridge, the sound of pained snivelling and the scratching of the quill filling the room.
(Break)
The place she found herself in was familiar, though she had not seen it for close to three decades. She would never forget the summers spent here with her sisters and parents even if it was before she had been wed to Lucius and the first war had happened.
She had never expected to find herself embroiled in war as she had. Not that she personally took part but playing host to her husband's associates and more recently, the Dark Lord certainly counted as participating to some degree.
No, it had not been the life she had envisioned for herself and she had never imagined it could take such a terrible turn that she would end up enduring what she had these past weeks.
Now, she found herself here, safe perhaps but no happier. Her home was gone and likely her husband with it.
A gentle sob escaped her as all she had experienced came crashing down around her. She was alive which was a small consolation in this moment, but she clung to it if only to ease the turmoil.
"CISSY!" a voice sounded from somewhere in the distance.
Through her tears she could not see who it was, but the voice was unmistakable. Although she had been worried for her sister, she couldn't comprehend how she felt in this moment.
She was both relieved and furious. Had Bella not fled, what had come to pass would not have and her home would still be standing. Still, she allowed her sister to comfort her. She needed that; to know that everything would be okay despite all that had happened.
"I can't believe he got you," Bella whispered as she wrapped her arms around her. "He promised he would, but I didn't trust him."
She nodded into the other woman's chest, unable to voice what she felt.
"Who was he?" she eventually asked.
"The Potter boy," Bellatrix huffed irritably. "James and the mudblood's son."
Narcissa simply nodded in response.
It made sense when she pondered it.
Lucius had been complaining about the boy for months, had been concerned about the danger he possessed to Draco and was beside himself when he had discovered Sirius had named him his heir.
Her husband had been right. The boy was a danger to them, but he had saved her.
To her, it mattered not. She would have died in the house and Lucius had not been there for her when she needed him most. He had sat idly by whilst she had been tortured, imprisoned and humiliated.
She choked back a sob once more, the conflicting emotions taking their toll.
She was angry with her sister, angry with Lucius but heartbroken at what had transpired.
What would become of her now? What life could she expect to live?
The Potter boy had specifically told her to not return to England, and he was right. If the Dark Lord was to discover she was alive, he would kill her, as he would her sister.
"What are we going to do, Bella? He destroyed my home and I think Lucius is dead."
"He destroyed your home?"
Narcissa nodded.
"And he killed Rabastan," she added, remembering the body of the man being deposited in her cell.
Bellatrix's eyes widened before she cackled.
"He was a fool. Is Rudolphus dead?"
Narcissa shrugged and her sister pouted in annoyance.
"I don't suppose we have any choice but to stay here," she sighed.
"It could be worse," Bellatrix returned. "We could be dead or in Azkaban. At least you don't have a curse on you."
Narcissa's anger flared at her sister's words.
"I was tortured because of you, kept prisoner in my own home and starved!" she growled.
Bellatrix was taken aback at the revelation. She had never intended for that to happen.
"I didn't know! I woke up terrified and knew I had to get out."
Narcissa shook her head as she stood.
"That's your problem, Bellatrix. Everything always had to be about you. You joined the Dark Lord and dragged the rest of the family into it. Grandfather was the only one smart enough to keep out of it."
"I did what I thought was right for the family."
"No, you hated that you had to marry Rudolphus and had eyes for someone more suitable for you. At least when Andi did it, she left the rest of us out of it."
She had touched a nerve. She didn't need to see the look of unbridled rage on her sister's face to know that.
"She ran away with a mudblood!" Bellatrix seethed.
"And you would have been with a half-blood," Narcissa fired back.
Bellatrix mumbled under her breath, unable to deny the accusation.
"I don't want to fight with you, Bella," Narcissa said tiredly. "My life has been turned upside down and it looks like we only have each other now. We can't go back."
Bellatrix nodded.
"I know, and it's not so bad here. The weather is nice, and we have more than enough gold. I emptied the Lestrange vault before I came. It's better than Azkaban."
Narcissa shook her head.
She didn't care about gold or the weather. She wanted her old life back, before the Dark Lord had returned. It wasn't perfect, but it had become comfortable, and now, everything had changed overnight for her. Her house, her husband and seemingly her son were lost to her.
It was difficult to see a bright side to anything that had happened.
(Break)
He had been firm with the instruction that he was not to be disturbed unless necessary. He had barely been away a week, had slowly begun to be able to rest easy and had been doing so when he received the message. He was displeased at the intrusion, but Rookwood was not one to go against his wishes lightly.
Something pressing must have occurred for him to be summoned by one of his most loyal, and as he arrived within the wards of Malfoy Manor, the urgent matter that required his attention could not be missed.
The smell of burning filled his nose, and though his Death Eaters were doing their utmost, the bright green flames continued to consume the building.
"MY LORD," Rookwood greeted as he hurried towards him, his robes singed, and face blackened with soot.
"What happened, Augustus?" he demanded.
The man shook his head.
"An explosion, my lord, that is all we know so far."
The Dark Lord nodded as he surveyed the damage.
"How did this happen?"
Rookwood swallowed deeply.
"It came from near the main kitchen and blew out half the house," he began as he led Voldemort closer. "We will have it out soon and we will be able to see, but we are missing at least fifteen people including Lucius, his wife and Rabastan."
The Dark Lord's jaw clenched as he withdrew his wand and cast a blanketing charm, already suspecting foul play.
After a few moments work, the flames were finally extinguished, and though the damage was considerable, he managed to salvage some of the house. Not that it would be liveable. Barely a shell and a few untouched rooms remained.
"MY LORD," another voice interrupted him.
He turned to see Rudolphus sprinting towards him. The man was frantic, evidently worried by his missing brother.
"We found Travers, my lord," he said breathily. "He was on patrol when the explosion happened. He's dead but not by the fire. He was murdered, my lord."
Voldemort frowned as he gestured for Lestrange to lead him to the body. Travers had been amongst his most faithful having gone to Azkaban instead of forsaking him.
Upon seeing the body, his suspicions of foul play were confirmed. There was not a mark on Travers; no burns nor any other indication that he had been caught up in the blast. No, his eyes were open wide having been caught by surprise by his attacker.
He had been murdered, and the observation raised a plethora of concerns.
How had this come to pass? There were none that could intrude without carrying the mark. He had set the wards himself and was confident that he would know if they had been breached.
Someone, however, had managed to do so, had murdered Travers and destroyed the house without being detected. The thought made his heart sink into his stomach. It was a bold move that no sane person would have considered not unless necessary and he could think of no reason as to why one would be compelled to do so. Not unless…
He shook his head in disbelief. There was no way, not even the slightest of chance, but why else?
He took hold of Rookwood's arm and pressed his pale forefinger against the exposed mark.
"When everyone arrives, gather them at the front of the house," he instructed, before sweeping away and heading towards the wooded area at the rear of the property.
There was only one reason why one would be foolish enough to attempt such a thing, the how no longer what he was focusing on.
Slowly but surely, his Horcruxes had been depleted leaving only one he was assured of, two if the Malfoy boy was not as inept as his father.
" Nagini?" he called, reaching for her through the connection they shared.
His steps paused as there was no response and he felt nothing of her. This was the most concerning thing he had come across this evening. No matter where he was, he could always feel her presence within his mind, and now, it was absent.
" NAGINI!" he tried again.
When he got no response for the second time, he lit the tip of his wand and pressed on, his eyes scanning the floor for any kind of disturbance.
His followers knew not to come out here so we he came across a trail of fresh footprints, he feared the worst. Despite housing a piece of his soul, Nagini was still a snake, was vulnerable, and he cursed himself for not taking further precautions with her, but why would he? She was safe behind the wars here, or so he believed.
His fear turned to anger as he found where the confrontation had taken place. No magic had been used but the smell of blood was strong, and the lifeless, headless corpse of his beloved, precious companion only affirmed his belief.
Nagini had been the target, there was no denying that. Everything else had been but a smokescreen in an attempt to cover up the intentions of the attack.
For the first time in many decades, he felt vulnerable. True, there was none that could hope to stand against him in combat, but the lack of safeguards made him question his own safety and he found himself relying on a fifteen-year-old boy to secure his future.
His wand trembled in his hand as he stared at his fallen serpent and he unleashed a scream of rage and frustration, felling several trees around him.
His breathing became heavy as he tried to compose himself. He needed to ascertain exactly what had happened here, he needed to be sure.
It took only a moment for him to find her disposed head and he frowned at the puncture wound, an odd odour filing his nose. It was a familiar one, though one he had not smelled in many years.
"Serana," he mumbled, his heart sinking as another wave of anger washed over him. "Potter."
It could only be the impetuous boy who was responsible for this. No other could hope to get close to a basilisk without paying the ultimate price, but how had he managed to cross his wards?
He himself would have needed to be marked, unless he had a traitor amongst his ranks.
He shook his head at the thought.
None would be so foolish to betray him and Bellatrix, although no longer counting herself amongst them, would not do so either. She would not be so brazen to risk such a move.
No, he was missing something, something important. Potter had somehow learned of his Horcruxes, their locations and even how to dispose of them. He could not fathom how but it was the only explanation.
Those thoughts unsettled the Dark Lord greatly.
If he knew of what he had kept so protected, what else had he become privy to, and how?
That was what irked him most other than the destruction of his Horcruxes. It was as though the boy had read his mind, had delved into the innermost personal secrets he held and read them as though they were a book, but that was not possible.
He growled in frustration as he reduced Nagini's remains to ash with a burst of fire and began returning to the house.
He would need to ponder the boy further and figure exactly how everything this evening had occurred.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…
The words of the prophecy he had heard played over in his mind, unsettling him further.
What power did Potter have? He was a mere boy but one who had come closer to destroying him than any other.
There had to be more to him, there was no other explanation, but he would get to the bottom of it. His life could very well depend on it.
As he reached the front of the house, he found his followers had assembled and Augustus was waiting for him.
"Well?" he demanded.
"We lost seventeen, my lord, including Rabastan and Lucius's wife. The dungeon was a mess, but they were both down there and wouldn't have been able to avoid the explosion," he explained.
Voldemort nodded.
He cared for neither not when he was coming to the terms with the loss of his Horcruxes.
"And?" he pressed, seeing the man was holding something back.
"Lucius is also dead," Rookwood muttered. "He suffered and was killed before anything else happened. It's not pretty, my lord."
"How close are you to getting me into the Department?" he asked, unconcerned with Lucius's fate also.
Lucius had once been a valuable asset but had proven to be nothing more than a disappointment over the past months since he had returned. He no longer had a house to offer as a base of operations and his influence would soon fade when Fudge was inevitably stripped of his position.
"Give me six weeks, my lord and I can promise you safe entry in and out."
Voldemort nodded.
Augustus was no fool and he would accept his expertise in the matter. It would be unwise to act rashly, especially now. He needed to know the full contents of the prophecy before he did anything else.
"What happened here tonight is unacceptable," he said loud enough for his voice to carry to all. "You were lax in your diligence, believing yourselves untouchable behind these wards. Do not be so again," he warned.
"Yes, my lord," his followers chorused.
"Now, we have lost many this evening and there is only one person responsible for this. I will deal with him in time, but I believe we have been quiet for too long. Rudolphus, I believe that your brother should be suitably avenged. Assemble yourselves into groups. We will soon have our vengeance for what happened here."
He ignored the cheering of his Death Eaters, his mind occupied with more urgent matters.
"Severus," he called, spotting his potions master. "I would like a word with you."
The sallow-skinned man bowed as he approached, his expression as unreadable as ever.
(Break)
It was not often the Dark Lord was so calm after something had gone awry and Severus had spent his time during the meeting expecting an outburst of fury, but it had not come.
The man had been oddly calm as he had inquired about Potter and even Draco, the former having been the focus of the conversation. He himself hardly dared to believe that Potter had orchestrated the devastation that had been wrought but he could think of no other who would do so.
Albus likely could have if he was so inclined, but it was not his style. Certainly not the murder he had witnessed.
The sight of Lucius's remains had turned his stomach, and he had seen many unpleasant things throughout his life. If Potter was responsible, as suspected, he had not held back. Lucius had indeed perished in a painful manner.
The Dark Lord, however, seemed unfazed by the Death of two of his most capable followers nor that of Narcissa. Draco would be beside himself with grief when he eventually learned of what had happened, though that would not be for some time.
He had been specifically instructed to not divulge that information to the boy for reasons unbeknownst to himself.
Not that it was what he was most concerned with.
No, it was the remainder of the discussion he'd had with the Dark Lord that was distracting him and he knew he immediately had to inform Dumbledore of the developments of the evening.
Sending off a patronus as he approached the castle to give the man time to prepare for his arrival, he first entered his office and poured himself a measure of whiskey before downing it.
The demeanour of the Dark Lord concerned him as did the task he had been set. With a little luck, the headmaster would be able to come up with something so that he would not have to carry it out. He had already besmirched her memory enough over the years.
(Break)
"Come in, Severus," he instructed, having taken a seat behind his desk only a moment before the knock sounded.
The man was worried, that was evident as he entered the room and took a seat opposite him.
"What is it, my boy?" he asked.
Severus shook his head as though he knew not where to begin but spoke after a brief silence.
"Malfoy Manner was attacked this evening," he revealed. "Lucius was killed along with Rabastan, Narcissa and fourteen Death Eaters."
To say the headmaster was taken aback by the unexpected news would be an understatement but he chose to remain composed, his need to know what had transpired outweighing the surprise.
"What happened?"
Severus released a deep, laboured breath.
"The Dark Lord believes that Lucius was the target. He was killed before there was an explosion. The rest died when that happened," he explained. "He also believes that Potter is responsible."
Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully.
Harry despised Lucius but he would not take such a risk to only carry out an act against him. There was more to it than that and he would need to speak to the boy to get to the truth of the matter.
"I will speak with him, Severus," he assured the man. "If Harry is indeed responsible, we will know shortly."
Severus nodded, though his composure remained stiff.
"That is not all," he spoke once more. "The Dark Lord wishes for me to ensure Potter is delivered to him when he is ready to face him. I do not know what his plan is, but he wishes to use my advantageous position to get Potter there and in a weakened state."
Dumbledore's lips formed into a tight line. This was one of the things he had feared from Tom's return.
"I will not do it, Albus. I will not do that to her."
Dumbledore held up a hand to placate him.
"Do not be consumed by worry, my friend. We will find a way to work this to our advantage," he assured him.
Severus nodded gratefully.
"Are you to inform Draco of what has happened?"
"No, the Dark Lord was very firm the boy should not be made aware of it. I do not believe he is marked but there must be a reason for it."
"Indeed," Dumbledore concurred, adding that to the list of things he would discuss with Harry. He seemed to know more than most what was happening around them. "Was there anything else?"
"No, nothing of note," Snape answered.
"Very well, we will…"
His words were cut off by the fire roaring to life with a burst of emerald flames. A familiar face appeared, one that left him questioning why she would disturb him so late in the evening.
"Valeria, has something urgent happened?"
The woman was the ICW representative for Spain and one of the one tasked with carrying out the investigation into Cornelius's financial dealings. She was a sharp and stern woman but one that could be relied on to carry out her job thoroughly.
"It has and as part of our investigation into your minister, I will be taking Madame Dolores Umbridge into custody this evening. Some very troubling reports have been made," she explained. "I have all the necessary documentation with me and ask that you comply with the order."
Albus frowned but had no intention of preventing his colleague.
"Please, come through," he invited, sharing a questioning look with Severus.
The fire flared once more and the woman entered, the aforementioned documents already in hand.
"Would you mind explaining to me what this is about, Valeria?"
She handed him the documents, though he found it unnecessary to read them as she began filling him in.
"It has been reported that Madame Umbridge has been using illegal methods of discipline on her students. Were you aware of this?"
Dumbledore shook his head confusedly.
"What illegal methods?"
"Blood quills, Albus," Valeria informed him. "According to the report, she has been having students write lines with them. As a former employee of the Minister, she was already a person of interest to us, and with this development, the ICW has decided that we will investigate the matter personally due to the conflict of interest involving Madame Umbridge and Minister Fudge. We do not believe that justice will be served appropriately if she were to face arrest or trial here."
The headmaster was shocked, saddened and dumbfounded by what he had learnt. He had no idea such a thing was happening in the school and had not expected the woman to act so rashly nor cruelly.
"Then I would like to assist you in removing her," he declared, his anger simmering under the surface. "If she has indeed carried this out, I will insist that she is punished to the full extent of the law."
"As will I," Valeria agreed. "Now, show me where I can find her."
(Break)
Dolores had slumped in her chair some time ago and Fleur had checked on her to ensure that she yet lived. She did and she had forced several blood replenishing potions down her throat and treated her wounds with the essence of dittany she had liberated from the potion store earlier in the day.
With the charms work she had done on the unconscious woman, she would neither remember nor be able to speak of what had been done. She would, however, dream of it. She would never truly escape the punishment that she had been administered.
The blood had been the most difficult to be rid of. It had leaked from her wounds freely, soaking the pink rug below her as she whimpered pathetically.
Fleur had almost taken pity on her, but that momentary lapse in her resolve had vanished with the thought of just how far Umbridge could have taken her action towards the children. In the darker recesses of her mind, she imagined Gabrielle being in such a situation and her resolved steeled once more.
She wouldn't pretend she enjoyed seeing the woman in pain, but she felt a sense of satisfaction, perhaps the same way Harry did when he dealt with his enemies.
It was not done for pleasure, but for justice and what was necessary. Having done what she had, she understood that more than ever, though it was not an easy thing to come to terms with. It made the burdens that Harry carried more real to her, more relatable.
Her musings were interrupted by a knock on the door and she stood to answer it. She had been expecting this, her father having made the arrangements personally.
Upon opening the door, the she came face to face with the headmaster, who was seemingly surprised to see her, Professor Snape and a woman she had met on a few occasions. Valeria had become a regular guest at the Delacour balls more recently.
"Miss Delacour, might I enquire as to what you are doing here?"
"I was waiting for Madame Valeria," she answered honestly. "It was my father that made 'er aware of what was going on."
Dumbledore frowned questioningly but nodded as he crossed the threshold, followed by the others.
"You will find the quills on top of 'er desk along with a list of the detentions she 'as 'osted and some photos that I took," she explained tiredly.
Valeria nodded as her and Dumbledore looked over the evidence.
"And how did you become aware of this, Miss Delacour?" Dumbledore asked.
"'Arry was watching Madame Umbridge. One of 'is spies told him of what was 'appening and I volunteered to get the evidence," she replied.
There was no other option than honesty with that. Harry had already told Dumbledore about his spy network and the man had given him permission to continue as he had been.
"And why did you not inform me of this?" he continued questioning.
"Because there was no evidence and your position is already under threat. I felt that it would be better to tell those that were in a position to ensure she could not get away with it."
The headmaster paused, his eyes twinkling merrily as he gave her a bright smile.
"Then I thank you for putting so much thought into the matter," he offered, understanding why she had approached the problem the way she had.
"And if you were wondering why she is asleep, she did not take kindly to being discovered and attempted to flee," Fleur added before the question could be asked.
Dumbledore nodded his understanding as Valeria unleashed a string of cursing in her native language.
"I will see her in prison for the remainder of her days," she declared. "These quills are highly illegal to be possessed outside of government buildings and it is clear that she has used them on at least one student."
It was odd to see such a gentile man shift from his usual demeanour to one of fury so quickly. If Fleur did not know him better, she would think him about to hex the woman himself.
"Then I would appreciate if you could get her out of my sight," he growled. "And Miss Delacour, you will join me in my office."
With his instructions given, he stormed from the room, likely to prevent himself losing his temper more than he had. Snape followed after only a brief pause, leaving her alone with Madame Valeria.
"You have done well, Fleur," the woman praised. "Both her and the Minister will have much to answer for. I will take her with me, it's best you do not involve yourself any more in this, si?"
Fleur nodded, took her leave and followed in the wake of the headmaster. Reaching the statue that guarded the office, she found it open and she ascended the spiral staircase and entered the office.
"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore offered, the potions master seemingly having returned to his own quarters.
She complied and waited for the man to speak what was on his mind.
"I firstly want to thank you for what you have done, Miss Delacour," he began, offering her a respectful bow. "Dolores has proven to be to quite the problem this year and with her gone, we can finally return to normal."
"She should not 'ave been 'ere from the start."
"No, she should not," Dumbledore agreed. "What happened here tonight, however, begs the question as to why it was you and not Harry that took action? I would think he would have taken it upon himself to deal with her."
Harry had warned her about his tendency to stick his nose in deeper than was decent, as he was doing so now.
"Because you know as well as I do that 'Arry would not 'ave cared about the correct channels," she answered. "I saw the opportunity for Fudge to 'ave to answer for this and took it."
She was hardly going to admit that Harry intended on killing Umbridge, not that it would be undeserved.
Dumbledore hummed as he nodded.
"And it has nothing to do with Harry attacking Malfoy Manner tonight?" he questioned. "I already know what he has done, Miss Delacour."
"Then you will 'ave to speak to 'im about it. I do not know of all 'is plans."
Dumbledore released a deep sigh.
"I am not asking about this for my own curiosity, I am merely worried for him. I understand that he has to take steps that no other will be willing to take, I just wish to know that he is okay."
"I do not know," Fleur replied. "'E said 'e would be away for a couple of days."
Dumbledore nodded his understanding.
"Then I will wait to speak with him. If what I have heard is true, he has achieved something extraordinary, even if I do not agree with his methods."
Fleur felt her irritation rise at his words. Perhaps she was tired from her own efforts of the evening or perhaps she would not sit here and have anyone question Harry and what he was doing. Regardless, it irked her.
"You are lucky to 'ave 'im after everything 'e 'as been through," she bit back.
Dumbledore was surprised by her sudden outburst.
"I apologise if I spoke out of turn…"
"You did," Fleur declared. "You do not understand what 'Arry 'as gone through to be where 'e is and 'ow grateful you should be that 'e is not like 'im. You will not speak badly of 'im not when 'e is risking 'is life for all of you."
"I do not take him for granted, Miss Delacour, I just cannot fathom doing what he does as I'm sure he could not do the same for my own actions," Dumbledore defended. "I appreciate Harry for the brilliant young man he is, make no mistake, and I appreciate that he has you. He has changed in many ways in the past year and all I hope for is that he is successful and happy."
"'E will be," she said firmly, "I will make sure 'e is."
Dumbledore smiled at her.
"I believe in him as I do you, Miss Delacour. Thank you for reminding me of the passion the young possess. In my advanced years, I often forget and truly wish the both of you happiness."
"Thank you, Professor," Fleur responded somewhat stiffly.
"And please do inform Harry I wish to speak with him when you can."
Fleur nodded as she stood and exited the room.
She didn't dislike Dumbledore, but she would never be able to forget that it was he that placed Harry with his relatives and was at the very least, partly responsible for the miserable upbringing he had.
With her thoughts turned to the boy, she decided she would check on him in the morning. Dumbledore hadn't spoken of what he had been told, but she had a feeling things had not gone exactly as Harry had explained to her earlier that morning.
(Break)
He woke with a groan, the throbbing of his arm not granting him more than a few hours rest. Lifting his head from hard wood of his kitchen table, he took in the sight of the discarded potion vials, his belt, and the morbid vision of his dismembered limb floating in the solution he had procured. Much to his relief, the tissue looked healthy with only the sight of the dark mark marring the skin of his forearm. If he was fortunate, it would soon be starved of magic and he would be able to go about the task of reattaching it, something he himself was not certain he could do.
Perhaps he would need to defer that to a healer, though explaining why it was missing in the first place would be quite the inconvenience.
No matter, it was not something he need ponder now. What did require his attention, however, was the metallic scent of his own blood and sweat from his exertions the night before.
Taking a deep breath, he popped the cork on another of his vials, the instant relief from the pain potion a welcome and allowing him to stand. Steadying himself using the table from a sudden bout of dizziness, he exited the kitchen and headed towards the bathroom a short walk away.
Upon entering, he turned on the shower and removed his clothes, the reflection of his metal arm in the mirror reminiscent of something one would see in a muggle movie. It was an odd thing to observe, unsightly, inhuman, but it would serve him well for now until he could restore his own.
The potion he had ingested had certainly taken the edge off how grim he felt but it could not compare to the cascade of hot water running over him, cleansing both his mind and body of what he had done. To him, it had been necessary, a key step to putting an end to Voldemort.
He had pondered his plan for weeks, had considered what alternatives were available, but there were one. What he had done was risky and could have ended badly, but he regretted nothing. As he washed himself, even the cumbersome arm he was currently lumbered with could not dull the satisfaction he felt.
He cared not what anyone would say or think, he had done the right thing at the right time.
Knowing he could hardly spend all day in the shower, he switched it off when he no longer felt the grime clinging to him and dried himself off with a towel, his need to eat growing with each passing moment.
Re-entering the kitchen, he was slightly surprised to see Fleur sitting in the chair he had recently vacated, her eyes affixed on his arm floating in the jar of liquid.
"It's only temporary," he said, startling her.
Immediately, she stood and pulled him into her arms, the skin of his shoulder soon wet with her tears.
"That doesn't mean I 'ave to like it," she choked.
He nodded his understanding as she took hold of his metal prosthetic and ran her fingers along the smooth surface.
"It's cold," she mumbled.
"It's helping to stop my arms from rotting," he explained. "When the magic of the mark wears off, I'll reattach it."
She shot him a look of sympathy.
"Did it work?"
He nodded.
"It did. I got the snake, I got Narcissa out and I killed Lucius. I even managed to raze the house to the ground without anyone catching me."
"So, it is almost done?"
"There's only him left," he confirmed darkly.
With everything he had achieved thus far, it seemed as though the end was near, and perhaps it was, but the final task was the most dangerous. Voldemort would not merely fall to his knees and allow him to win. It would be a fight for his life, and Harry could very well perish. Despite knowing everything about the man, there would always be that danger. It was as unavoidable as it was inevitable.
"What about Umbridge?" he asked, changing the subject.
"She is gone and will not be back," Fleur replied. "She is now with the ICW and will be put on trial."
Harry hummed thoughtfully, not having considered that option.
"I would much rather she was dead."
"Oui, but this way, Fudge will 'ave to answer for 'er crimes too. He was the one who 'ad 'er placed at the school," she pointed out.
"That is true," he conceded, already looking forward to the proceedings.
"Oh, and Dumbledore wants to speak with you as soon as possible."
"I should have expected it wouldn't take long for him to find out. I suppose I should get it out of the way before the old git has a heart attack. Are you okay?" he added.
"I will be when this is all over, 'Arry. I 'ate what you 'ave to do."
"I know," he sighed as he wrapped his arms around her once more. "It will be over soon enough, I hope."
"Me too," she murmured as she extracted herself from him reluctantly. "Dumbledore," she reminded him.
Harry released a breath of frustration as he went to his room to dress. When he had done so, he conjured a single black glove to put on over his silvery hand before re-joining Fleur in the kitchen.
"Come one then, you'll be late if we don't go now."
She nodded as she accepted his hand, the feeling of the portkey activating only a second later and they found themselves outside the gates of Hogwarts.
"Are you going to tell 'im everything?" she asked as they approached the castle.
"There's no reason to keep anything from him. He won't like it but it's tough. I told him I would continue to do things my way. I have no intention of having this hanging over for me for years. The last war was dealt with poorly by everyone. I won't be like them."
Fleur grinned at him and placed a kiss on his cheek.
"Maybe you should think about being the Minister one day. With 'ow you deal with everything; you could do a lot of good."
Harry laughed as he shook his head.
"I'm too blunt and honest for politics. I'd be dealing with assassination attempts all the time. It will be bad enough dealing with the idiots on the Wizengamot. No, I'd much rather find something else to focus on and upset the balance once or twice a month when they meet. Anyway, I'll deal with him and I'll see you later."
"You 'ad better," she returned, offering him a sultry smile before heading in the direction of the charms classroom.
He snorted as he watched her leave.
He was still growing used to that side of her, but it was a welcome distraction, though one that didn't last. As he made his way to the headmaster's office, he braced himself for the conversation to come.
Dumbledore may well be displeased by the events of the previous day, but he would not deviate from his plans and would offer no apologies. He owed such to no one, after all.
In only the space of mere hours, between the efforts of Fleur and himself, they had ridded the castle of Umbridge, dealt with Lucius Malfoy and disposed of the final Horcrux.
The loss of his arm was a sacrifice well made as far as he was concerned.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore called as he knocked on the door to his office.
He entered the room to find the man seated behind his desk and appearing to be more tired than usual. Despite this, he offered him an unexpected smile as he gestured for him to sit.
"Thanks to you, in part, my sleep was cut short and I have had an abundance of missives to write and manage," he explained, pointing to the stack of parchment his desk was laden with. "However, Madame Umbridge is gone, and I would like to believe your own endeavours were successful."
Harry nodded.
"The final Horcrux has been destroyed," he confirmed, ignoring the twinkling of the man's eyes at the revelation.
"Then I will ask no further of anything else you undertook. I trust you did what you felt was necessary."
"I did. I don't know what you heard, but I did not kill Mrs Malfoy. She has been taken somewhere safe. She was being held prisoner and had been tortured by Voldemort for weeks."
Dumbledore shook his head sadly.
"I remember her as a student. She was very bright and very ambitious. Horace expected much from her, but it was not to be. She was married off to Lucius and any ambition she had was abandoned. Perhaps one day she will find it again."
Harry shrugged uncaringly. She had made her bed when she married the fool and would now have to deal with the consequences of it.
"I do, however, find myself in quite the bind," Dumbledore sighed dramatically, and Harry did not like the expectant look the man gave him. "With Madame Umbridge gone and the enormous amount of work I now have regarding the current Minister and what is to come, I do not have time to find and appoint a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. I have cleared it with Minerva and Filius and you will fill in for the foreseeable future pending the approval of the governors. With Lucius no longer round to object, I'm sure I can convince them to agree."
Harry frowned deeply at the man, his head shaking at the brilliance of his move. This, he had not expected to his own detriment. Trust Dumbledore to turn it all to his advantage.
"I suppose I do not have any choice in the matter," he sighed.
"There is always a choice, Harry, but I am relying on you to make the right one," the older man returned, his eyes twinkling once more.
"Bloody hell," Harry grumbled causing the headmaster to chuckle.
"Worry not, I can assure you it is only temporary."
Harry could only shake his head in response. As much as Dumbledore had denied it, he knew he didn't truly have a choice. He didn't know whether to be irritated with the man or congratulate him on his shrewdness.
"Fine," he agreed. "I should have known something like this would happen."
"Indeed, though I'm sure you will learn with experience. You have done well thus far in your political dealings, Harry, but you have much to learn."
Harry hummed and Dumbledore frowned as he caught sight of his gloved hand.
"All be it for me to make a statement about fashion, but gloves do tend to come in pairs, do they not? I do remember a student talking to me of a muggle singer who wore only one glove," he added as he scratched his beard in thought.
"It's not a fashionable thing," Harry chuckled as he removed the garment, enjoying the look of shock now adorning the headmaster's features. "I had to take steps to gain entry, but it was worth it, and my arm will be back in place soon enough."
Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief.
"I still find myself in awe at the lengths you are willing to go, Harry," he sighed, "which brings me to something I had not considered until it was raised with me last night. I believe you know of Severus's involvement in revealing the prophecy."
"I do, and no, I won't kill him unless he gives me reason to," Harry retorted. "I will not forgive him, and I would not give him the satisfaction of death. He will live with what he has done, and he will face my mother in the afterlife. I would see him stew in his own suffering for what he did. Make no mistake, headmaster, I am not doing this out of kindness but to ensure he lives with it every day he breathes."
"He made a mistake, Harry…"
"And he is paying for it," Harry bit back. "Would you prefer that I kill him?"
"No, I have seen what this has done to him. He would give his life for you if it were asked of him."
Harry shook his head.
"His life is meaningless to me and you will not bring it up again."
Dumbledore nodded reluctantly.
"That may be more difficult than you think," he sighed. "Severus has been tasked to ensure you are taken to the Dark Lord when the time is right."
A grin tugged at his lips as he began to ponder the possibilities.
"Then you will instruct him to carry it out," he decided. "Voldemort may think that what he is doing is to his advantage, but it will be to mine. I will be ready when that day comes, headmaster. You had better be also," he warned as he took his leave from the office.