Author's Note: Hello, thank you for reading my story. Please see my profile for information regarding canon compliance and a general timeline of my interconnected stories. While they are not necessary to read, my short stories add flavour and context.
Sincere gratitude must be given to LTCMDR Michal Drápalík, Luq707, DavidTheAthenai, WardenInTheNorth, EMP, and all the other great people who gave up their time to edit my story in the Harry/Fleur discord.
I own none of the rights, nor make money, nor gain fame, or anything else from Harry Potter.
Cheers.
Chapter 6: Riptide
The school is burning. The thought rang indistinctly in a hollow head.
Children ran in chaotic droves, adults screamed, sirens blared, and smoke billowed.
The school is burning.
One step forward. Two.
Mind jammed, throat clenched, a strange sort of wordless suffocation overtakes him while nerveless fingers grasp at nothing.
A small body ricocheted off a leg robotically moving forward.
The school is burning.
The thought unjams. A flood of adrenaline. Fingers clenched around a wand vibrating with restless energy. Senses sharpened, blood hummed.
Harry moved.
Muscle memory, training, and experience flushed the spiralling emotion out of him; occlumency barriers snapping into place reflexively.
Calm.
An ocean of it. Stretching without end as his consciousness bobbed in the water. But beneath his paddling feet, he couldn't help but sense a primal fear. A foreboding dread of what swam just underneath.
The wards were blaring, their riotous noise causing a distant flicker of annoyance to brush against the erected shields in his mind. With a swipe of his wand the magical warning sounding in his ears abruptly ended.
Harry quickly brought his wrist to his face, having to squint to make out the face of the watch Mr Weasley had gifted him the day Liliana was born. The green hand spun wildly, never settling on a single spot for more than a second. He grimaced and anxiety curdled in his gut, someone had put up enchantments designed to restrict magical communication of any kind, undoubtedly an attempt to keep the Ministry from responding promptly.
He knew he had a decision to make. Casting an anti-apparition ward may stop the perpetrators from getting away but would grind to a halt Magical Law Enforcement's assistance to the muggles. It was readily apparent that muggle fire-fighters would have little luck against a magical blaze and a quick Homenum Revelio spell showed multiple people still stuck inside the burning school.
Swearing venomously, Harry decided to use a more archaic signal. The Locator spell arced high into the air, not dissimilar to a muggle flare. Once it passed the wards, it would appear on the Ministry radar. The Magical Law Enforcement Patrol that held jurisdiction over Skegness would arrive shortly but not fast enough to catch whoever was here. He would have to act as first responder.
Steeling himself and casting fire retardant spells on his person, he entered the Academy's back entrance.
Childish art lined the wall, paper projects posted by tiny classroom doors. It had been a lovely place, Harry thought idly as he sprinted towards the closest revealed person. Ignoring the fire greedily licking away the posters hanging next to him, Harry banished the door, revealing his daughter's classroom.
From the corner of Harry's eyes came a swirl of black and silver.
A flash. Aching knees. An arm jerked out an answering flash. The dull thud of a body hitting the floor. Panting.
Knees bloodied from skidding along the floor, Harry stood.
Slow. He'd gotten far too slow.
A sharp, half-turn cleared the immediate surroundings. A sickly yellow light emanated from the body of the black-cloaked, silver masked figure laying on the ground, catching Harry's eye. The glow seemed amorphous, bubbling out from the person's belly before boiling over. A revoltingly sweet smell filled the air and the figure's entire torso was no more.
Harry stood stock-still, incredulity pulsing from beyond his cold consciousness. He cast a notice-me-not spell and a few muggle-repellent charms on the remains before moving further into the classroom. The Homenum Revelio spell would illuminate where individuals were at the cost of alerting wizards to his presence. Additionally, the spell did not differentiate between child and assailant. He would have to go one by one to the rooms he detected a presence in, ready to fight.
A huge gout of flame burst out of the classroom to his right, nearly searing him before being repulsed by his wand. He didn't have much time before the building burned down. He needed to hurry.
He made his way deeper into the building, a bubble-head charm quickly cast kept his lungs clear from the thick smoke. It was Harry's muscle memory from Auror training rather than his vision that caused him to crash to the side, just as a bolt of jagged green light sped by him.
A door over his left shoulder burst open to reveal another black-cloaked wizard who shot an unstable stunner at Harry's back. Not having enough time to turn, Harry dropped to the ground, rolling to the side and sending solid red stunners out to smack his assailant in the chest. The wizard crumbled to the ground just as Harry summoned a desk from the open classroom next to him to crash in the way of the second bolt of green light arcing towards him.
The desk exploded, wooden shrapnel splintering across Harry's skin. Licking the blood from his cut lip, he gauged the angle of the two spells sent down the hallway and shot out his own repertoire.
This foe was far more skilled than the two that came before them, Harry's spells were swatted to the side before a bevy of curses began pouring towards Harry's location. Rolling to the side, he barely made it away from the onslaught.
Bright spellight glowed briefly before being smothered by the thick smoke becoming denser by the second. Whoever was at the end of the hallway was gathering smoke to cover their presence.
A yellow light glowed from behind him right as another spell ripped through the smog, this time directly down the middle of the hallway. That confirmed it, his attacker wasn't sure of his location either.
A memory preceded a jolt of movement, summoning the unconscious man's wand to his hand, Harry forced the stick to use a simple household charm before chucking it down the hall. The slim piece of wood arced through the air, its tip siphoning smoke from the surroundings. As it clattered to the floor, the haze at the end of the hall began to condense and be pulled towards the ground. A glimpse was all he needed, shooting a spell out towards his target.
A swiftly cast shielding charm was not strong enough to completely stop the cutting curse. It sliced through the unfinished defences but dulled before hitting the ankle of Harry's foe. He had meant to cut off a foot but instead all he managed was to create a weeping gash.
The man swore loudly.
Harry froze momentarily, but just long enough that he had to frantically guard against a tidal wave of curses and jinxes sent against him. As the last spell dissipated, Harry bolted towards the end of the hall, skidding around the corner but the man was not there.
Antonin Dolohov was gone.
Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Harry turned and made his way to the fourth and final presence revealed on his initial scan.
With a huff, he heaved open the closet door that had been wedged closed. A small huddled form sat trembling inside, sniffled cries reaching his ears. He knew this girl.
As soon as she recognized him, she launched forwards. Her tears turned to bawling cries as her hands reached out to him, scrabbling for purchase on his shirt.
He lifted Jasmine into his arms.
"Please Mr Evans help me, please," she sobbed against his neck, the begging plea repeated over and over like a prayer.
"What happened to Lili, Jasmine? Where is she?" The words were firm but filled with terror. The answer could break him. Four people, the spell had revealed. Only those who still breathed.
Jasmine continued crying and Harry handled her unceremoniously until she was forced to meet his eyes.
"Where is Lili?"
The girl heaved a blubbered sob. She sniffed.
"She vanished. We-we were walking down the hall when Lili's necklace started to shake and glow. She panicked and grabbed me by the wrist. She pulled me into the closet and said to hide bu-but a man in a mask appeared and yelled at her. Before the door shut I saw her disappear. She was just there, Mr Evans, I swear she was but then she was gone. I'm-I'm so sorry." The girl's cries began in earnest then and Harry instinctively patted her back placatingly while his mind raced.
Vanished. Gone.
The glacier of his chest cracked.
Detachedly, Harry watched his body shudder in relief from behind the placid waters of his mental barriers.
Lili's automatic emergency portkey had worked. Fleur, George, and Hermione had endeavoured tirelessly to create them for each child, an ingeniously innovative enchanted portkey that could be keyed into protective enchantments to detect hostility. As soon as truly malicious intent was directed towards Lili she would be whisked away back home, whose own wards would eject any passengers.
Right now, she would be confused and likely scared, sitting in her room back at home. Harry started as his watch vibrated against his wrist. The enchantment to disallow magical communication must have faded, meaning its caster had left.
He checked the watch, which showed the green hand finally resting at 'home.' A shaky wand tapped his trembling instrument to acknowledge that he had seen the shift in her location caused by the portkey. Just as he did so, Harry watched as Fleur's blue watch-hand travelled between the 'work' designation to 'home.' The locket she wore, her only regular piece of jewellery, would have informed her of the ward's activation.
Harry breathed in and out. He clutched the girl to his chest and moved, he still needed to get her out.
In her shock, the young girl hadn't noticed the bubble on Harry's head but now that she was calming, he could feel the look of wondered bafflement on her face. That focus changed as he cast one so that she could breathe properly. The smoke and fire were spreading rapidly. Hogsthorpe would be lucky to still be standing when the flames petered out.
Upon exiting the school, he made his way over to the car park where the muggles had gathered. A perimeter had been established by emergency workers, but a smaller bubble had been claimed by people he recognised.
Kingsley Shaklebolt himself stood towering above the heads of the other Ministry workers who flitted about like worker bees. Healers rushed towards Harry and tried to pry the girl out of his arms but he held fast, making his way to the Minister.
"Dolohov."
Kingsley nodded in affirmation, reaching up to grip Harry's shoulder. It was tight and strong. The pain and force of it sharpened the senses dulled by relief.
The Minister began barking orders, leaving Harry alone.
He bent down and kneeled, allowing Jasmine to stand on her own feet. She was clutching her arm at an awkward angle and, as he cast diagnostic charms on her, he sucked in a breath. Reaching forward he gently pulled her arm away so he could inspect the damage.
Charred skin in the shape of a tiny handprint was wrapped around the girl's wrist.
She watched wide-eyed as he got to work repairing the damage with healing spells he'd been taught on the force. He didn't want any Healer to see. Didn't want questions or accusations.
He was tired. Tired of it all.
Harry just wanted to go home.
The Ministry began its obligatory sweep, school teachers and children had their memories wiped, while the muggles that watched a fire eat away the primary school were given a light mass-compulsion charm.
He gave his report to Kingsley and Terry Boot, an Auror he had joined with. They asked questions and he robotically answered. Through it all, a little girl clung to him like a lifeline.
When the Obliviators came he brushed them off. She was scared and shaking. Silent. Watching the procession of magic with an unseeing gaze.
Trauma. A curse magic could not heal, even with Obliviation. The physiological reactions would remain but she'd find no answers, no cause. The first friend his daughter had made outside her own family would bear scars both physical and mental from today. He grit his teeth, she was his responsibility.
It was over quickly and she slumbered peacefully when he returned her to Prisha, who stood along with other muggle families about the school perimeter. She gave him a blank look, still under the effects of the compulsion charm. Even so, he thanked her and her daughter before leaving. For what, he was unsure but Lili would not be alone in missing the muggle family.
He was resolved. Every single trace of the Potters would be erased from Skegness.
XXXXXXXX
Fleur was waiting for him when he arrived.
He closed the front door behind him as she stood from the yellow loveseat she so favoured. They stood silently, watching one another for a time. Harry took a step forward and so did she. The stillness broken, they quickly closed the gap between them, their arms linking around one another tight enough to hurt.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice controlled but brittle.
The question was born of folly and laced with vacuity. It was hollow, a phrase uttered with no conscious thought. A platitude meant to die uselessly on the plains between the world that was before and the hell that was now.
He did not bother to answer, only drew her closer to him and buried his sooty face into the dreams of Fleur's hair.
They swayed softly for a time, the closeness acting as a balm. An ambrosia acting as a mocking reprieve. When Harry spoke, his voice was dry and harsh, and with it came reality.
"Kingsley thinks it was a Ministry official. Some desk jockey in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was doing regular sweeps in his jurisdiction when Lili's bout of accidental magic happened. He investigated the blip and, instead of reporting it, sold the information to Barnabas Cuffe at the Daily Prophet when he learned it involved Lili. He hadn't shown up for work the last three days. He was found dead in his apartment this morning."
"Lili?" His voice came out strained and taut like piano wires stretched thin.
Fleur kissed his cheek tenderly in reply. "She is asleep. When I arrived, her...hysteria gave way shortly to exhaustion." Her eyes betrayed the truth she was protecting him from, the full extent of Lili's panic.
Bile rose in his throat as blood pumped like shattered glass through desiccated veins. This was his fault. Death Eaters had attacked his daughter because of his past.
The thin veneer of safety, the illusion of a life past war crumbled to dust.
The sins of the father, he lamented.
Fleur seemed to sense the change in him for she held him closer. "Go see her," she whispered.
"Fayette?"
"Andromeda offered to keep her. For tonight, to give us time."
Harry nodded as he disentangled from her arms.
He tried to ignore the burning gaze of her as he trudged his way upstairs.
"Jasmine?" From the way the name left her lips Harry could tell she was afraid, but resolved to hear his reply.
He paused on the landing. "The burn on her wrist was treated but the scar will remain. Otherwise, she's fine."
"Her memory?"
His silence was the only answer he gave.
The door to Lili's room opened soundlessly, allowing him to slip in without worry of waking her. His daughter was curled into a tight ball at the corner of her bed. The sight hurt. Her posture was rigid and afraid, even in the escape of sleep. The difference between her typical sloppy, splayed position gapingly obvious.
He reached out a hand to caress her crown but his limb trembled midway. The sight of ash and red, irritated skin caught his eye and turned his stomach. He pulled his hand back to drop uselessly at his side.
He made his way out of her room as quietly as he came in.
The heat of the shower beat his muscles into submission. Steam billowed around him and for a short time, he focused on a task rather than let his thoughts drift. He scrubbed his skin until his body stung. He still didn't feel clean.
Slipping on faded pyjamas he ambled out of his bedroom. Hushed voices caught his attention and he crept towards the sliver of light peeking from a cracked open door.
"Where's daddy?"
His lungs collapsed inward at Lili's fractured voice.
"He's home, moonbeam. Once he's done cleaning up he'll come see you now that you're awake."
"Is Jasmine okay?" She sounded so small, so different from the grown-up she tried to be. A little girl desperately wanting to be her mother.
"Yes, she is."
"When can I see her again? Mama, I know I did bad but please don't make me leave. I'll do better, I promise." Desperate pleading, innocent and naive.
Harry slumped against the wall outside her room, sliding down to the ground. He crooked his knees out in front of him as he listened to Fleur soothe their daughter.
Impotent and helpless he sat, hating himself for being unable to face his daughter. His eyes felt hot but no tears came. Would she hate him, he wondered, when she learned the truth? The memories she made with a friend who'd never remember her?
The school would be rebuilt and the children were safe but something irreplaceable had been lost to the fire.
A gown of feathers had been burnt to cinders.
XXXXXXXX
Later that night, as Fleur joined him in their bedroom, she released a question that had wiggled beneath his skin all evening. It was no easier to hear her speak it aloud.
"What are we going to do about her schooling?" Fleur questioned, the tips of her hair being rolled into a ball by nervous digits. "She has to finish the year."
"We can take Andromeda up on her offer. She homeschooled Teddy all the way to Hogwarts."
"She needs friends," Fleur started, but paused as he lunged to his feet. He began pacing as she began again. "Jasmine was good for her, you saw how excited she was. She was happy."
"It isn't safe, Fleur. She doesn't need muggle friends." His tone was tight and clipped. A closed door with no key.
She shook her head. "No, she needs to know that she can make friends outside of her family or she'll-"
"Or she'll what, Fleur? She has her cousins. That will be enough."
"She'll be like me."
His furious stride stilled and his head slowly rotated towards his wife. She sat primly upon the edge of the bed but something about the slope of her shoulders seemed diminutive. It was not often her self-assuredness cracked and it snagged his attention immediately.
Fleur seemed to come to some sort of resolve because her chin rose and she met his gaze. "Lili will grow up unsure of herself. She will be dependent on family and will never allow herself to branch out. To change and grow."
Harry stepped towards her, sinking down to his knees so he could grasp her hands in his own. "She would be lucky to be like you."
"No, 'Arry. She wouldn't." Blue eyes turned misty and distant as she recalled her childhood and adolescence. "You know how I struggled. Who I became. The prideful, angry, fragile girl who had but two friends to my name. Friends only because they were outcasts as well. I became cold, never allowing myself to take chances. To try . I assumed the world was my enemy and treated it as such."
His wife's expression hardened as she refocused on him. "Would you want that for her? To be convinced that the only ones that love her are those bound to her as family? No." Fleur shook her head distastefully. "I will not allow it."
Harry's jaw clenched and his grip tightened. "I won't allow her to be put in danger."
"Stop hiding behind your fear," was her curt reply. Her oceanic eyes sharpened to a knife's edge. "She is safe. She will be safe. The enchantments worked-"
"But what if they don't next time? What if they figure out how to block the enchantments or disrupt the wards?" He scoffed. "You'd risk that for her to make muggle friends she will have to leave behind in a few years?"
The seas froze over and narrowed. "Don't minimize my point or play the fool. You know more is at stake. We are talking about her ability to form connections, to be exposed to other people and walks of life. To find herself. These years are important, 'Arry. They will help form the woman she will become."
"I don't want to have this conversation."
"And I don't want to put it off."
The two glared at one another before Harry's shoulders slumped. "Please, just… just let me think. Let Andromeda take her for the rest of this term at least."
Fleur gave him a critical once-over before nodding sharply. "I won't drop this conversation, but I'll admit tonight is not the night to have it." Her eyes softened and she gave a weak smile. "She blames herself, you know? She… she's scared 'Arry. Not just of the masked men, but because she burned her friend. She cried as she told me how Jasmine jerked and screamed."
Her mouth hardened into a thin line before continuing. "That cannot remain her last memory of friendship until Hogwarts. She can't be allowed to become afraid of herself or her heritage. It will ruin her."
The walls felt as though they were collapsing inward. The ceiling shrunk until it brushed his head. The air atrophied and his palms grew slick with sweat. A strange claustrophobia set in and Harry felt small. So very small. Like a boy in a cupboard with spiders for friends.
"She'll be safe," he repeated but the words gnawed on his tongue, filling his mouth with copper and regret. His split lip throbbed to the beat of his heart.
"She'll be caged."
Harry had nothing to say. No wisdom or rebuttal, no witticism or exclamation. Just a mouth full of blood and a phantom sense of familiarity.
Terror and love, was there even a difference?
XXXXXXXX
His arm reached out and pulled the squirming body of his eldest daughter to his chest. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the cedar and sandcherry scent that belonged to her alone.
Lili had tiptoed into the bedroom after only ten minutes, slipping under the covers of her parents' bed and burrowing between them.
After a time, she began to softly snore.
The night was dark, the moon and stars obscured by clouds resolute on keeping their illumination at bay. A terrible, sweeping fear crept over him as he lay trembling. For even in the dark, colours spasmed across his vision. Noise assaulted his ears and explosions rocked his bones.
A familiar, unforgotten dread was dredged up from the depths of his soul. Like vines it snaked over his legs and torso, pulling him down, down, down . His muscles locked up, leaving him paralyzed. He couldn't struggle, couldn't fight. Couldn't breathe. His eyes roved wildly, seeking some sort of anchor.
"'Arry," the cool, calm voice washed over him. A winter's river, shocking but soothing in the numbness it afforded. With a gasp, his lungs expanded and muscles reacted, unclenching in a spasm. A gentle hand cupped his hot cheek. A thumb brushed his skin tenderly.
The world splintered and focused on the tactile sensation. He breathed.
"Too tight," Liliana grumbled. Smooshed as she was against his chest, her voice sent vibrations through to his heart. His arms loosened but refused to relinquish their hold entirely on her.
With a slight adjustment, she nestled against him further and, sighing, began to fall back asleep.
He panted as the cold night air chilled the perspiration that had broken out over his body.
Blue.
As though carried to sea by the river that'd cleansed him with a word. Now he locked on with desperation to the eyes that glittered in the all-consuming void of night.
Unblinkingly, he stared into the ocean of her eyes, convinced beyond reason that to look away would send him careening back to drown in the sludge pervading his mind and mangling his heart.
He leaned into her touch and the stroking of her calloused thumb, the warm weight of her wedding ring.
"Shh," she quieted him. Her dulcet tone wrapping about him. "It's okay. You're okay."
The stampeding heart in his chest slowed, the beating pulse in his head abated, and his body unlocked from the squeezing ball he'd curled into around his daughter.
Harry and Fleur watched one another, their eyes tracing the planes of their partner's face in the gloom around them.
In that moment, nothing else existed. A glorious absence of all things but three. The safety of his wife's eyes. The heartbeat of his daughter, rhythmically pounding against his own. And the puffs of air that escaped from her lips vibrating against his chest.
It was a long time before Fleur fell asleep. The fingers of morning stretched through the curtained window when it finally came for Harry.
XXXXXXXX
Morning came bright and cheerful as though mocking the dismal events of the day prior. Harry had dragged himself out of bed before his family had awoken but couldn't find it in himself to begin breakfast. Instead, he sipped cold tea listlessly on Fleur's yellow loveseat.
The fireplace flared, signalling a floo request. He hadn't bothered lifting the restriction from last night and considered ignoring it now. But, he knew that the only people who even had access to his floo in the first place would not be deterred by being kept out in such a way. Undoubtedly, they would apparate to his home in short order.
With an errant wave, he lifted the enchantment. Immediately, the fireplace disgorged its passenger, who promptly fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
Untidy turquoise hair and dark green eyes, like his father. The green brightened to an emerald shade upon meeting Harry's surprised gaze.
"Harry!" The young boy called excitedly, rushing to his feet and clumsily making his way to Harry's perch atop the couch.
"Teddy?" He questioned, "what are you doing here? What about school?"
"McGonagall, er, Headmistress, said I could come home for a couple days because of what happened." At this admission, the boy's hair turned a pallid white while he twisted his fingers anxiously in front of him. "Is everyone okay? Lili, Fay? Mu- uhm, Fleur?"
Harry reached out and plucked Teddy from the ground, depositing his godson against his side. He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Yes, everyone is safe," he responded. "It's good to see you."
Teddy nodded absently, chewing his lip.
"I promise they are alright," Harry stated calmly. "They'll be up soon and delighted to see you."
The boy brightened considerably, shifting to his preferred appearance. "That's good, I've missed you all so much. I've loads to tell you about Hogwarts!"
"How about you tell me some tales while we cook breakfast together?" Harry suggested.
"That'd be brilliant!"
The two ambled towards the kitchen. Harry waved his wand errantly, summoning the ingredients he would need while Teddy launched into a story about Transfiguration, his favourite subject. The young boy's exuberant chatter was a welcome reprieve from the sinister fears pervading the chilly morning air. The young boy's features would morph as his excitement grew, a constant ebb and flow that paired his story subconsciously.
A gift from his mother, Harry thought, watching him fondly.
"Professor Indra says if I take summer courses with him I can join the third year Transfiguration class next year! Oh, and if I can keep up I could do an apprenticeship with him over my sixth and seventh years!" The boy's smile was bright and wide. Unnaturally so. His teeth actually glowed while his mouth stretched comically across his face akin to a spotlight.
"I'm so proud of you, Teddy. You're doing amazing." The words were complemented by a hand reaching out to ruffle blue hair.
"Do you think I'm good enough to join the Edrith Spell-Weaving Institute?"
"Of course you are," Harry responded immediately. His gaze slid over to the side so he could peer at his godson slyly. "So you're still set on following Fleur's footsteps, eh?"
Teddy blushed but nodded, his attachment to his pseudo-aunt and mother well-known.
"They'd be lucky to have you," Harry continued as he laid out bacon on a skillet, the smell causing Teddy to interrupt his continued tales of Hogwarts with a loud rumbling stomach. They both laughed. A bright head of blue hair nudged next to Harry's waist so the boy could peer over at the bacon, his favoured breakfast food. The head shifted, tilting upwards and Harry jerked.
It was a rapid lunge that made his heart pound painfully, his eyes watered and he felt a brief flash of humiliated panic that he was about to cry . Biting the inside of his cheek, he stamped down the urge.
Teddy stared in shock at Harry's reaction, his features morphing back to his normal state, though his expression remained befuddled and abashed.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to frighten you," he apologized unnecessarily.
The rush of blood was slowing but the pain lingered. "It's alright, I-I was just surprised is all. You didn't do anything wrong." But in his head, the image of a pig snout remained, etched like ink bleeding through the pages of his memories to stain what lay underneath.
His hand reached out to pluck his godson's nose between his fingers tenderly. "You have your mother's nose," he said with a grin.
Teddy beamed up at him, unaware and ecstatic.
The moment was interrupted by a loud squawk and the rapid pounding of little feet. Fayette rocketed into Teddy's waist, smooshing the air from his lungs. She babbled away while staring up at him with round eyes. The boy laughed and hugged her to his chest, swishing her around.
"It's so good to see you Fay, I've missed you," Teddy said, grinning.
"Teddy-bear!" Came her excited squeal, which turned into delighted giggles as he changed his face into an admittedly adorable approximation of a bear cub.
Lili peeked around the corner before stepping somewhat timidly into the kitchen. She and Teddy stared at one another for a short moment before erupting into smiles, lunging across the kitchen to hug.
Some of the pressure that was gripping Harry's soul lessened at the smile on Lili's face. It was weak and subdued, her typical confident posture lacking, but it was a smile all the same.
Fayette, not wanting to be left out, followed behind Teddy so that she could wrap her arms around his waist from behind. The three children swayed slightly for a while before releasing one another. It seemed to be taken as a sign that both Potter girls could start bombarding their brother-figure with a myriad of questions about his stint at Hogwarts.
Cooking to the rambling music of kids chattering in the background quelled the stinging fear nestled deep in Harry's gut. It was a distraction, and a lovely one. But the events of last night could not be washed away so simply.
Try as he might to latch on to the happiness of having all of his children together again, he could not ignore the boiling mess churning within. The heated mass bubbled and roiled like liquid lead, a creature granted sentience by the terror of loss. It reached out to grip him with long, taloned fingers and gnawed at the soft recesses hidden within him.
Would Teddy be next? Would Fayette? Fleur? His goddaughter, Rose? Were any of them safe? He had thought himself smart and well-guarded, using a fake name, going to a muggle school with no registered magical community near the town, employing even the most esoteric protective wards he could find yet all of it was for naught. Lili was still found and attacked.
It had been a near thing, her being swept away as she was. He couldn't rely on the portkey again, next time his enemies would be smarter. The Hostile Intent Wards Fleur and Hermione had developed after the war had been kept a secret for this very reason, a trick up the sleeve now played. A gambit forever lost.
New security measures would have to be considered and erected but he doubted they would matter. He'd never trust in her safety again, not after yesterday. He could only hope with all his being that Lili would one day feel safe again. That fear would not taint her life as it had him and her namesake.
Life was rarely so generous.
These dark thoughts fled at the sweeping arrival of Fleur Potter. Having no doubt heard Teddy's strident voice, she waltzed towards him so she could swing him up in her arms, pecking his face with light, teasing kisses. He laughed loudly while feigning complaints, falsely batting her away and struggling. The smile on the boy's face detracted from his admonitions, his hair took a silver tint, growing long and straight.
The food now done, Harry made his way over to kneel on the floor, taking Lili in his arms. He burrowed his face in her neck as he held her. Now that the Potters were complete once more, he didn't want to ever let them part again.
Breakfast passed smoothly, Harry and Fleur nimbly working together to keep topics away from last night. Lili was quieter than usual but Teddy's attentive inclusion of her in his stories kept a small smile on her face.
That changed when Harry began to wash the dishes. Typically he allowed magic to make the chore simple but years of doing it by hand at the Dursley's had taught him to feel the calming effect of suds and hot water.
Fleur had bundled the kids up and taken them on a short walk to the stream that bubbled in the orange, red, and gold forest on the Potter's property.
His silent solitude was interrupted by a familiar pecking at his window. A Daily Prophet owl was perched and staring at him intently. With trepidation, he allowed it in and took the package from its talons. Without waiting for payment, the owl turned and flew right back out of the window.
Harry unfurled the first letter, recognising the messy script.
Dear Harry,
Reporters swarmed the Harpy Training ground today trying to get an interview. They gave me this morning's paper when I told them I didn't know what they were talking about.
Are the girls okay? Are you?
Why didn't you tell anyone? Not even Ron knew when I firecalled him. Mum is going to be furious. We'll run interference and give you time but she'll need to see you all in person before she calms down. I'm sorry this happened Harry but Ron, Hermione, and I will kick your arse if you get all broody like in fifth year, you hear me?
Love,
Ginny
The mentioned article was far less welcome. It outlined the attack in almost goading terms and when the fire was commented on it was quickly followed by notes about Veela's fire-proclivities and high temperament.
Before he became conscious of his actions, Harry found himself walking outside his wards so that he could apparate to a clearing deep in the woods of his property. It was a common haunt after the war and during his tenure as an Auror.
Mutilated tree trunks and cracked rocks littered the once beautiful glade. Here, under the Alders he shed restraint and sought release.
With ruthless, methodical precision, Harry exhausted himself until numbness set in. Until he could feel nothing. Nothing at all.
XXXXXXXX
Teddy stayed with them for only one more day, sliding right back into the Potter's lives as if he had never left. He slept in the same room that had been his since Harry had first met him. He was a bright spot in an otherwise dismal moment, delaying the reality threatening to crash in upon the family.
Fayette was blissfully ignorant, flitting about the place with Teddy being dragged behind her. Lili, however, stayed in her room most of the day, but would creep out occasionally to sit and read on the couch as the other children played.
Her actions represented a noticeable change. An abhorrent one.
Ron made his first appearance that first day, marching in unceremoniously and gripping Harry in a bone-crushing hug. A mumbled, "it'll be okay, mate," was said as the two men stood together. He'd then disappeared upstairs to see his goddaughter.
Other Weasleys and family friends filtered in periodically in an almost coordinated fashion. An evening didn't pass without someone bringing food and company. Usually in pairs, one aunt or uncle would distract the children so the other could sit and soothe the frayed nerves of Harry and Fleur.
He loved them for it, but the diversion was only momentary. The walls closed back in as soon as they left.
The day Teddy left was difficult. Fayette had stomped her feet and huffed like a little dragon. Lili had given a sad farewell and hugged him. Fleur had surreptitiously wiped away tears just as she had when he boarded the Hogwarts Express.
Teddy's hair had darkened to a crimson shade, his face becoming wolf-like, protective. "Keep them safe," the boy had murmured firmly, his tiny hand gripping Harry's arm tight.
When had this little boy grown, Harry had wondered. The cheeky brat ordering around adults already. His mother would've been smugly delighted.
At the time, he'd felt the overwhelming urge to sweep his surrogate son into his arms and never let any of his children out of his sight. To tell Teddy how proud he was of the man he was becoming, and how much he loved the parents the boy would never meet.
Instead, Harry had smiled and ruffled the boy's hair before responding. "You know I will."
XXXXXXXX
Sleek silver stained red. Blue pools motionless and flat. White feathers singed black. The smell of brimstone and charcoal became overpowering, a toxic burning corroding his nose and causing Harry to lunge upwards.
His chest heaved. A strange, bitter taste hung heavy on his tongue. Hot sweat quickly cooled in the frigid night air, causing his muscles to shudder reflexively .
The room was dark and his eyesight returned slowly. A body shifted on the bed beside him, causing the mattress to tilt. Even with his weak vision, he could make out the form of Fleur's hair in the oppressive gloom. He ran his hand through his own untidy, tangled locks as his breathing slowed.
After the war he'd often wake up fighting, arms splaying and fists seeking a red-eyed wraith that taunted him from the ephemeral mists of slumber. Fleur would wake by his side and hold him, murmuring in his ear until sleep claimed him once more.
Life had changed and with it his nightmares.
The terrors that haunted his sleep now were a quiet violence. He did not wake up afraid like he used to, midway through a battle waged in his mind. A sorrow deep and wide and terrible had replaced it. Smothering and desolate, consciousness returned only when his paralysed muscles screamed against imagined bindings so harshly that cramping aches lanced through his limbs.
Even over ten years later he could always count on his wife to wake and soothe him when the red-eyed wraith returned. It had become less frequent as time passed, now coming only sparingly, but always around the Memorial.
She did not wake now. Not for these silent panics that crept like spider legs upon him. She was used to him waking before her and slipping out of bed as he did now. His aim, however, was different. He was not leaving her to begin breakfast nor go for an early morning run, a habit started during his Auror training.
With a shuffled step, he made his way to the door, scooping up a discarded nightshirt along the way. He didn't make a sound as he closed the door firmly behind him, gazing one more time at the slumbering form of his wife.
Intellectually, he knew she'd want him to wake her. To allow her presence and whispered love to soothe him back asleep in her arms. She would curl protectively about his body and sing a wordless lullaby or wake alongside him and allow the regrets and recriminations to pour mud-like from his mouth.
Instead, he followed his feet. The cold wood leached warmth from him but the numbness that followed was welcome. He paused outside the door before him, but only briefly. With a hesitant push he cracked it open so he could slip inside.
Soft blues and eggshell whites, tidy drawers and dressers made of dark walnut wood, and a tiny bed rested in the room's centre. Puffs of breath too delicate to call snores drew his gaze to the rumpled sheets where his daughter lay. Lili's face was peaceful tonight, a sight that had become rare.
Harry reached out a hand, caressing the silk and silver of her crown.
A painful fissure closed in his chest, a relief, small but sweet, taking flight as he watched his daughter dream.
She had suffered in her own fashion. Masked men and her friend's scream of pain had jolted her awake on multiple occasions, hiccuping with sobs and resistant to the comfort her parents tried to console her with. Lili had been asking to see Jasmine with a poorly disguised desperation and no matter how Harry assured her that her friend was safe, she remained adamant. His daughter had become angry with him, becoming icily silent at his presence, even going so far as to turn her head away from his gaze.
It hurt.
Her reaction was understandable, but it left him anxious for when the truth of Jasmine's memory eventually came to light.
Fatherhood wasn't a particularly easy tribulation in and of itself but the joy of his children made it a far simpler and pleasant endeavour than their ire did.
Last night had been the first time Lili had not ended up in her parent's bed. He had awoken that morning with his arm reaching out to find her only to come up empty. After a brief moment of panic had been chased away by the sight of her sleeping in her room, a strange sort of pride had budded in his heart. He was glad she was so strong, so like her mother. But that happiness was eroded by his own need, a clinging, desperate desire to keep her close. A dread that came with the dawn and her absence.
Turning, Harry made his way out of his eldest's room before descending the stairs soundlessly. He trudged to an office that had become more of a place for storage after his Auror tenure had ended.
With a sigh, he closed the door behind him, leaning against the heavy wood. His old office was the one cluttered room in the house, a place outside of his wife's tyranny of cleanliness. Piles of books and papers towered upon a desk and dotted the floor. Boxes were shoved along the wall, varied labels adorning them; 'Auror Files' were interspaced with 'Yule Decorations' and 'Sheet Music.'
Harry chewed the inside of his cheek, unconsciously scrubbing the back of his head. With a jerk, he walked over to a small box sitting on his desk-chair. It was a familiar, hateful storage container. Serving as a bitter reminder of his failure, a cardboard monument to his career's greatest regret.
Now, it taunted him.
Fear and hatred rose like bile in his throat which he choked back. There was a vast difference between preparing for an attack and experiencing one. Harry didn't believe himself complacent in the eleven years since the war's end but his expectations, perhaps, had dulled.
He would end this. The last Death Eater had to be stopped and Harry knew he was the only one who could accomplish it.
Contemplatively, he stroked the top of the box with a finger, inadvertently drawing a line through the coating of dust. His hand flipped over the top and, steeling himself, he began to pull out the contents before making his way over to an old evidence board hanging on the far wall across from the desk. With practiced ease, he began to place pictures and information in familiar patterns.
This time would be different, he thought. Yet with each new photograph put up, Harry couldn't help the nauseating feeling that he was rousing ghosts better left dead.
XXXXXXXX
It was late at night when Fleur had finished putting the children to bed. She had been spending an increasing amount of time at her work. The Edrith Institute's ward team was making rapid progress on the project she had been pulled in on. Her charms expertise had mitigated much of the issues with perimeter stability. In the weeks after the ICW conference she had come home exhausted but excited. Supposedly, the warded perimeter had finally started to nullify magical principles as soon as they entered its radius. A breakthrough was expected soon and with it, the team leaders, Desmond and Fleur, were potentially up for nomination for International Spell Creation awards.
Such optimistic talk had since died out.
Now, she faced him in their bedroom. A clenched fist resting against a cocked hip. A conversation he'd been avoiding was clearly on the horizon. Her words confirmed his suspicions.
"Lili needs to go to school, 'Arry. She can't just be locked away until she turns eleven."
"I was."
Fleur blinked at him and he felt anger and impotence swirl into a maelstrom. He wilted under his wife's heated glare. His caustic retort now felt childish.
"So you should know better than anyone why that is unacceptable." His wife was still dressed in her work attire. The outer robes of the Spellweaving Institute robes had yet to be discarded, their dusky purple hue at odds with the green blouse and black pencil skirt she wore.
"The only thing I find unacceptable is putting her in danger. School is obviously too dangerous while someone is trying to kill her."
"And what of Hogwarts? What if this person is still not caught by then? Can you trust the school that put you in mortal peril yearly with her safety? With the grandchildren of Death Eaters as her peers?"
"You're right, we should have her go to Beauxbatons or, hell, anywhere else really."
"You're not listening to me," her voice spiked and her hair glowed ethereally. "She has to be allowed to live her life. We must do what we can to keep her safe but my daughter will not feel trapped, especially by her parents."
The frayed thread of his control snapped. He had warned her he was not ready for this conversation and that had not changed.
"It is for her safety, Fleur! Damn it!" He raged. "Don't you think I understand? I don't want to have to do this either, I take no joy in keeping her isolated, and even if she ends up hating me for it, I'd rather her be alive to do so than the alternative."
"All I'm asking is for you to not be so hasty. Yes, we should take precautions now and reevaluate our current situation. But you are overreacting by making this determine her entire future. We don't know what will happen. The people responsible could be apprehended tomorrow and this disproportionate reaction will have done us no good."
"Disproportionate?" His voice sounded hysterical even to his own ears. High and strained, a crack running through the very seams of the word. "Lili was attacked, Fleur. She got away only because of our wards and trinkets but imagine if they had failed or been a second too slow. We could have lost her."
"We will lose her if we keep her under lock and key for the rest of her life."
"You know that isn't what I mean, stop trying to turn this into-"
"I'm not turning this into anything, 'Arry, don't twist this onto me. You are scared, I understand, I am too. But Lili is safe, she will be safe. The Aurors will find who did this and arrest them."
"The Aurors?" The yell crashed from his lips and tore from his throat causing Fleur to still. "You want to put our family in the hands of that bureaucratic mess of a department? Fleur, I am sure it was Dolohov, I heard his voice and I know him better than any Auror alive. I can catch him, they can't."
"You never caught him 'Arry, even when you were an Auror, what could possibly make you think you can now?" Her biting rebuke softened, "'Arry, you promised me. You looked me in my eyes when you swore you were done chasing dark wizards. That you would be there to raise our children. Together."
"I know what I promised," he roared, his hands curling into fists at his side. He felt a grim satisfaction at Fleur's jolt of surprise, followed by a dull wave of shame. Even so, he continued his tirade.
"She was attacked, Fleur. My daughter was attacked and what? You expect me to sit and do nothing? To trust others with her life? No!" Dimly, he became aware that he had started shouting, though he couldn't remember how that had begun. He had never shouted at his wife before, an errant part of him mused calmly before being stifled in the maniacal panic eroding his insides.
"You don't trust Neville?" Came her sharp reply.
"Not with this. No one with this."
"Don't." Fleur gave him a beseeching look, urging him to understand what his mind rebelled against. "Please, don't do this. Do not leave your family to go cavorting about the country looking for Death Eaters; it isn't your job anymore. It isn't you anymore." Her voice was subdued and brittle, uttered by a woman who already knew she had lost. Jagged pain lanced through Harry, leaving him breathless.
Fleur noticed his hesitation and pressed forward. "Your daughters need you here, Harry. Lili has night terrors, she doesn't feel safe without you."
For a moment, brief but unforgettable, Harry felt hate surge through him at Fleur's cheap tactic, at using their daughters as a chess piece for an argument. Immediately, it washed away only to leave him so self-disgusted he felt the urge to vomit. Fear, he knew, was garrotting him, asphyxiating his control. The realization calmed him enough that he could think clearly.
He had left Fleur once and she had taken him back. She had understood then. But it broke them both. Fleur's posture spoke of her fragility, a total vulnerability. In that moment, she was a young witch by Dumbledore's tomb once again.
The fight left Harry, soul-deep exhaustion stealing through him. The blaze that had raged so frightfully hot left nothing but ash and scorched bones to compliment the sudden emptiness he felt. She was right, he wasn't the same boy anymore.
He had grown selfish with age, during the war he believed himself capable of dying for a cause if it meant Fleur and his friends could live in peace and happiness. He couldn't say the same thing now, not when it meant leaving his daughters to grow up fatherless. Not when it meant he wouldn't be there to watch them grow, and change, and love.
"I…" He paused. "I shouldn't have yelled, I'm sorry."
"You know… I always knew this would happen," a sad resentment mumbled almost to herself.
His hackles rose again in response only to be flattened by her next words. "Not this attack, I don't blame you for it, 'Arry." A pause. "I knew that one day you'd blame yourself for whatever happened to our daughters and something was bound to happen."
"People are out for revenge against me, Fleur. Death Eater remnants are obviously involved here. This is my fault."
"You have no fault here, just as you weren't to blame for those who died during the war. I thought we had worked past that ridiculous self-flagellation."
"This is different."
"No. No, it really isn't."
His stomach clenched, his teeth grating together at her refusal. "It just isn't the same," he muttered petulantly. He didn't understand her incomprehension, her obstinance. How could he make her see reason? To make her see the gulf that lay between then and now?
"Why not?" Her eyes sharpened, piercing him where he stood, her tone daring.
He exploded. "Because you were right! How can you stand there and not blame me? You said we should transfer her but I refused, this could have all been avoided."
"But I agreed, 'Arry! I'm just as much at fault as you if that is the case. You forget, dear husband, that you do not make decisions unilaterally. We are a partnership. It was not your choice that she remain at Hogsthorpe but ours."
They both stared at one another, words and vitriol surging against their closed lips, threatening to pour out into the night. But exhaustion was overpowering. They were both tired. Tired from the emotional strain of the attack and tired of fighting each other.
"I'm going to contact Kingsley about how the case is proceeding. Go ahead and sleep."
He shuddered at the knowing look she gave him; her blue eyes sad and weary, ancient and resigned. She did not speak to him, nor did she rebuff him for the lie. She simply turned and with a wave of her wand, extinguished the lights.
XXXXXXXX
Harry coughed into his hands, the haggard huff of air warming the frozen digits briefly. His bloodshot eyes caressed the coiling board in front of him, searching for a connection.
It was early morning, or at least he thought it was. It had been dark when he'd slipped from the bed and lumbered down to his hole. He rubbed his jaw and snarled at the photos and words in front of him. Little progress had been made and the blank spot for Dolohov's possible locations and accomplices mocked him.
An errant tug on his lank hair turned into a sharp jerk, pulling the twisted locks painfully.
A horrified shriek sent a blizzard's chill down his spine and he made his way through his jumbled office and out his door. He made his way stumbling up the stairs and arrived outside of Lili's door, which had been flung open.
His daughter lay in her mother's lap on the floor. Fleur stroked her hair and cooed affectionately at her in an attempt to calm the young girl. A nightmare, he thought, his heart rate slowing now that he knew she was not in imminent danger. However, his heart stopped when he realized Lili was sobbing his name.
"Where's daddy?" She mewled through bubbling tears, her voice shaky and lost.
He lurched forward only to still at the frozen, accusing eyes of his wife. Her expression left nothing to doubt, she had woken to their daughter's scream alone, and consoled her alone. He had been missing when their daughter needed him… busy breaking a promise he had made for her before she'd even been born.
He met his wife's gaze and felt a crevice crack apart between them.
Quietly, he walked forward and hugged Lili's small body from behind as she cried into her mother's chest. Her whimpers lessened at his appearance, nestling closer against him and brokenly revealing the details of her nightmare.
He listened and comforted her until she exhaustedly fell asleep once more. Harry and Fleur held their daughter between them through the night in silence. He did not meet her eyes again.
XXXXXXXX
Another week had risen and died yet Harry had nothing to show for it. He was impatient and even the patience and experience from years as an Auror did little to temper his foul mood. He was certain he had heard Dolohov but no matter what rock he overturned, the Death Eater's name never came up.
The Aurors claimed they were tracking him but he had been Harry's mark when he was with the force, he knew the bastard's habits better than anyone alive. Even so, the former lieutenant of Voldemort's inner circle had a cruel guile to him. He had been the cold to Bellatrix's hot, displaying an intellectual viciousness that had been devastatingly effective during Voldemort's reign and allowed him to elude capture for over a decade.
Professor Flitwick had bested him in a gruelling duel at the Battle of Hogwarts but his body was nowhere to be found upon the war's end. The trail had been nearly nonexistent when Harry first took it up but the man had become less than a ghost since then. It had been Harry's biggest regret when leaving the department. The last Death Eater running free, dangerous and unpredictable like an axe hanging overhead. A man erroneously believed to be more concerned with escape than revenge. A notion now proven naive and wrenchingly foolish.
Harry had been slipping out at night to investigate in secret, not coming home until the early hours of the morning. At first, he had thought no one the wiser, but the increasingly frigid atmosphere between him and his wife had disabused him of the notion.
Even so, he couldn't stop. Not until they were safe. It was his duty both as a soldier and a father and he'd be damned if his inaction caused them harm, no matter the strain it caused him.
A week of sleeplessness and frantic searching certainly had taken a toll. His brain felt feverish and sluggish most of the day, while his eyes felt dry and worn. His mood had soured and he had even snapped at Fayette the other day because she was playing her harpsichord too loud while he was reading the Dolohov file for the umpteenth time. All that he prided himself seemed to be eroding away, though he refused to dwell on it long. He had a job to see finished.
The seams of his mind felt frayed and loose but he grit his teeth and doggedly continued his pursuit. This time, however, there was no Ron and Hermione in the tent with him. Hermione was still in Odessa, piecing together an ICW Resolution that he'd all but given up on. Ron, on the other hand, had been a source of strength the days after the attack. Seamlessly taking over the cooking duties that Harry couldn't bring himself to do. The red-head would bring over his brood and chat or play games with the kids so Harry and Fleur could relax in a brittle bubble of peace.
Ron was also the one that had figured out Harry's plan. He knew Harry too well, having been right alongside him for most of his mystery-solving endeavours at Hogwarts. They had come to a head four days ago, causing the freckled man to leave after a heated argument, shaking his head and grumbling about a "specky git."
Harry exited the informant's house in Knockturn Alley, shrouded in a Disillusionment charm. The old witch had been less than helpful but even her poor information had cost a hefty price. She had eyed the coin pouch greedily when he took it out but only muttered nonsense about foreign wizards and witches patronising Knockturn Alley businesses with increased regularity. That was hardly surprising considering the influx of pureblood families pawning off heirlooms tainted with the Dark Arts. Old magical houses from around the world had been purchasing the relics for various purposes for years, even magical museum curators had been involved.
It had been nearly two weeks now and the Aurors had nothing to show for it, Kingsley had even politely but firmly told him to stop asking about the investigation because it was confidential. Harry regretted what he had said in anger to his old friend afterwards but had not contacted the Minister since.
It was a curious thing. Harry had been alone for nearly eleven years as a child, not having a single relationship untainted by his cousin or Aunt and Uncle. Yet, he had never felt the sting quite so acutely as he did now, walking down the streets of Knockturn Alley on his way to the next informant's residence.
Green fire erupted from a potioneer's cauldron outside their shop.
The light shattered across Harry's face causing him to whirl to the side, the sharp movement breaking his Disillusionment charm. A Stupefy shot from his wand but his hand was shaking so badly that the spell zinged past the woman's shoulder by a wide margin. The witch gasped in alarm and made to shout at him but he was running, running, running .
His legs ached and lungs burned when he finally stopped, deep in the twisting underbelly of Magical Britain.
His senses felt sharp and dull at the same time, his eyes snapped wildly about as he clutched his trembling wand to his chest.
Panting, Harry tried to find something to tether himself as his surroundings slipped away, as though the alleyway and stores were being sucked into a black void that shimmered before his eyes.
With a great heave, Harry Potter leaned over and was promptly sick.
XXXXXXXX
Harry was waiting in an alleyway under his invisibility cloak. It was grimy and refuse was strewn about the place. A hard rain had fallen last night, turning the ground sodden and muddy.
The sky was still overcast. Great brooding clouds roiled above, spewing out their contents in a sheeting drizzle that pattered off his enchanted cloth.
A shiver tore through his nerveless muscles. His body rebelling, trying to warm itself since he would not. It mattered little to him.
He hadn't slept last night. When the sky first started to lighten he had swept the cloak around his shoulders and left.
Fleur would know soon, if she didn't already, of his absence.
For the first hour he had paid a visit to some of his former contacts from when he worked as an Auror. Low-level people that kept their ear to the ground. If someone had been plotting an attack on the Potters and had been looking for muscle, word should have spread.
But no one knew a thing.
Which meant either the mastermind was smart or someone was lying.
Ultimately, he had ended up here, at the Dolohov estate.
He wasn't stupid enough to think the Death Eater would be there but without a solid lead, he'd had nowhere else to go. The savage, anxious fury in his chest had propelled him to keep moving and his feet had led him here.
The Dolohovs were similar to the Blacks in that they owned a home within a muggle development, although their estate was its own complex.
It was a large, dull green building with chipped paint and weeds. The building was old and uncared for even before it was left to ruin when the last Dolohov had made his escape after losing to Professor Flitwick in the war. Now the abandoned building had become derelict and cracked. Part of the roof had caved in on the left side, allowing the rain to fall in.
It was a cold, wet, miserable day.
Harry had been in a trance of a sort for a while, as he stood staring at the home of his enemy. The blind fear curdling in his belly wanted to lash out but could find nothing within reach. For the last few hours, that feeling had soured and turned inward.
With a loud crack, Neville Longbottom appeared in front of the derelict manor, causing Harry to jolt. His heart jumped painfully and, caught off-guard he fumbled getting his wand out. The instrument of Holly and Phoenix feather clattered to the ground.
At the noise, Auror Longbottom whipped around and aimed his own wand directly at Harry.
"Come out," came the sure, commanding voice, "I know you're there."
With a grimace, Harry ripped off his cloak.
"Neville," he greeted hotly.
His friend looked stunned, mouth open and eyes bulging. They quickly narrowed.
"Blimey, what are you doing here?" The man asked, moving to stow his wand away. There was a hesitation and then the wand turned once more on Harry.
"How many points did I lose Gryffindor our first year?"
"Bloody hell, Neville. I can't count that high," Harry replied. "But your ten points at the End-of-Term Feast won us the House Cup."
The wand was pocketed.
Apparently mollified, Neville spoke. "Alright, I'll ask again. What are you doing here?"
"Same as you. Investigating."
The Auror snorted.
Harry glared.
Incredulousness turned into vexation . "You can't be serious, mate. You aren't an Auror anymore."
"I'm aware of that, but I'm here anyway."
The large man's friendly face turned concerned. "No, mate. You really can't be here. Legally, you don't-"
The self-recrimination turned molten in his stomach, the fury that had birthed it quickly finding purchase in a new target. "Piss off, Neville. I don't rightly care what the law says," Harry shouted, the veins in his neck standing out. "I'm going to find that bastard Dolohov and put an end to this."
Suddenly, Neville's expression twisted, becoming foreboding and cold. "The hell you are," he retorted vehemently. "End this? You some sort of vigilante now? Is that it? You aim to kill him?"
"I'll do what it takes to keep my family safe." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, their dark weight leaving an acidic taste upon his lips, erupting like crows from his mouth. They were equally painful. Equally horrific.
Silence engulfed the two men. Neville looked at him as though seeing him for the first time.
Harry fought a shudder.
When Neville finally spoke, his voice was firm despite the weariness leaking from it."Go home, Harry. Go back to your wife and daughters. They need you. For the love I hold for them I'll pretend I didn't hear what you just said."
"That's why I'm out here, for them-"
"No. It's not." Neville gave him a sharp look of rebuke. Harry stilled at the anger written on his friend's face. He was reminded of a boy in pyjamas, standing up for what he thought right. How little some things changed… even when everything else had.
"You're here because you don't think anyone but you can handle this case. For all your talk of staying out of the limelight, here you are. Because of what? Ego?"
Harry surged forward, gripping Neville by the coat. "Take that back," he spat venomously. "You'd do the exact same fucking thing if it was your child's life at stake."
The Auror glared at him. The usual warm, brown eyes were dark and hard. His lips a thin, white line.
Rain soaked their hair and trailed down their cheeks as the two men glared at one another. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Ozone permeated the air and the scent of it made him lightheaded.
The anger that had propelled Harry forward dissipated as he stared at his friend's face.
What the hell was he doing?
With a slight stumble, he took a step back. The wand tip pressed to his belly coming into view at his retreat. With a grunt, his back hit the cool stone of the alleyway. He slid to the muddy ground and held his head in his heads.
His insides were cold. The fiery panic that was fueling him had sputtered out. Now all he felt was drained and numb. The movements of his body felt sluggish and distant, as though his blood had been replaced by the very mud he lay in.
"Go home, Harry," Neville warned forcefully, adjusting his coat's collar. The man's face was guarded, professional. Without ceremony, he turned and began to walk away, and with him, a bridge felt burned.
They had taken an oath together once. To protect and serve, to uphold the laws of Magical Britain. It now lay mangled and tattered between them. Shattered and lost.
Without conscious thought, his mouth opened as though wrenched apart by the ghost of a person he no longer knew how to be.
"Neville," he croaked. The name felt hollow, devoid of meaning or sentiment or attachment. Like a last breath, it tumbled into existence only to be followed with silence.
The steps paused.
But Harry didn't know what to say. Or even how he could say them if he did.
The steps resumed.
The smouldering ashes of his anger tasted bitter on his tongue. A sort of desperate, strangling self-loathing poured upon him from all sides. The frenzy had passed and without it, he had no idea who he was.
A shadow passed over him before a body plopped down in the muck to his right.
"You're a mess." The voice held no judgment. It was uttered as a fact and not an opinion.
Harry leaned his head against the wall behind him.
"Yeah."
"Look, I-I know…" Neville trailed off as though uncertain how to put to words what his mind considered. "I know this isn't easy for you to hear but, mate, you're not the only one capable of doing things. This isn't the war and it isn't the prophecy. You're a father now, you can't be doing this shit anymore."
"It's because I'm a father that I need to do this."
"No. You don't," Neville said vehemently. He gestured with his large hands sharply, his palms facing the ground. "You might feel that way but it's just not true. Bloody hell, I know I'm not a father but I think I've learned a thing or two from watching you and Ron be good ones. And this? This isn't it."
Neville sighed, the sound rattling out of his lungs. His thick hands ran through his hair, catching on a few locks which made him wince. "You know what I think? I think you're doing this to make yourself feel better. But is this really where you need to be? What you should be doing? I'm sure Lili and Fleur are scared right now. Isn't the fatherly thing being with them?"
Exhaustion pulled at him. He absently wondered if this was what drowning felt like; as though stones were tied to his feet and weighing him down. But the lead heart in his chest was heavier by far.
"Keeping them safe is the fatherly thing to do. Even if I'm out here doing it."
"I think you're wrong. And I bet you know you are too."
Harry lolled his head to the side so he could see Neville clearly. He evaluated the large, broad, powerfully-built man his friend had become. Resigned, he spoke. "Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure of that?"
"Because our fathers stayed."
The air solidified in his chest. He couldn't breathe. Adrenaline flooded his body but his mind refused to work. His body refused to move.
Neville turned his face and once again met Harry's stare.
"In the end… that was where they were. Where they chose to be. With us. Doing what they could as best they knew how. Not out there." Neville flung a hand out in a grand, flippant gesture, "trying to face the world on their own."
The world was blurring but no matter how much Harry blinked nothing would come into focus. His ears rang a shrill note that fluctuated in pitch incessantly and the tiredness was no longer merely physical. It had become a monstrous, consuming maw that swallowed him whole.
He tried to speak but no words came out. It felt as though he was trying to roll a boulder out of his throat so his vocal chords could work. In the end, he couldn't say anything.
Neville seemed to understand, and with a huff lurched to his feet.
His friend peered down at him while a small but boyish smile flickered across his face, looking like the same cheery and dependable man Harry had relied on so often over the years.
He reached down a hand. "Come on, mate. You have somewhere you need to be."
Author's Note: This was a difficult chapter to write, the emotional gravity of the situation was a hard thing to illustrate. I hope I did it justice.
To all those who struggle with PTSD, know you are loved and strong.