A Promise Kept - Chapter 21 - Bulgaria Vs Ireland

Bulgaria Vs Ireland

As a high-ranking French official, Sebastien was often asked to attend a variety of balls, galas, charity events, and even personal gatherings. When he’d first begun making a name for himself, Sebastien had done so happily, but he quickly became aware of the looks he received, the men drooling over his wife, and the judgemental glances.

It didn’t bother him, not really.

Sebastien felt as though he was the luckiest man in the world, but he could no longer subject Apolline to what she was enduring, and without her, he saw no reason to attend.

Soon enough, the invitations stopped arriving.

As such, they rarely did anything together in the public sphere besides hosting their own gatherings with people that did not gawp or judge them.

To be invited to such an event as they would be attending today was not something Sebastien had seen in his near future, but Sirius Black had thought of everything, had even made many of the arrangements to accommodate Sebastien’s family so that it would be an enjoyable experience for his wife and daughters.

Oh, there would be some stares, but nothing nefarious, nor with any unpleasant intentions; the best any Veela could truly hope for.

When he had first met Apolline, it had been difficult for Sebastien to separate the undeniable lust for her from the more organic feelings he was developing.

For many months, he’d believed it had been the former, that despite wanting to see her, wanting to just spend time in her company, that he was compelled to do so to be around that intoxicating magic the permeated around her.

It wasn’t until he realised for himself that it wasn’t just lust that drew him to her, that it was everything else he wanted to keep around that he had been able to accept his feelings were pure and not influenced by what she was.

They had been married for two decades now, and despite the ups and downs life brought, they had been the happiest of years.

“You are nervous.”

Apolline stopped pacing, and nodded.

“A little,” she admitted, “but I am quite excited. It is not often we are able to do these things.”

Sebastien offered her a comforting smile.

“And Fleur?”

“She won’t admit it, but she is worried, and I think a little jealous. She did not make friends the way Gabrielle has.”

Sebastien nodded his understanding.

“Well, I hope that will change,” he sighed. “I think today could be good for her too.”

Apolline did not seem to be convinced, and as their oldest daughter entered the kitchen, Fleur did not appear to think so either. Even so, Sebastien pulled her into his arms.

“Are you well, my little flower?”

“I’m fine,” Fleur said tightly. “Should we not be leaving?”

“The portkey will activate in a few minutes, and when we are there, Sirius assured me we will have plenty of time to unpack before the match begins,” Sebastien explained. “Do try to enjoy it, Fleur.”

The girl released a deep breath and nodded.

“I will,” she promised.

(Break)

He watched as Lily erected the five tents they had brought along, all of them recently purchased for the occasion, but would undoubtedly see further use in the future.

Such things were rather expensive, but worth every Knut as far as Sirius was concerned, and those camping here would certainly not be without their home comforts.

In the middle of the private clearing, he had already arranged the wood for a fire, and in the distance, they could even hear the sounds of the festivities as they begun, and the calls of the vendors selling their wares.

“The tents are done,” Lily declared. “One for me, one for you, one for the Delacours, one for the girls, and one for the boys.”

“I see you separated the girls and the boys as far away as you can,” Sirius pointed out amusedly.

“I remember what you were like at their age.”

He clutched his chest dramatically but could not prevent himself from sniggering.

“Good times,” he returned fondly, eliciting a glare from the woman.

Fortunately, Sirius was saved by the arrival of their final guests, and he greeted Sebastien Delacour with an enthusiastic handshake.

“Not bad,” the man commented appreciatively.

Sirius offered him a shallow bow.

“Yours is the one next to mine,” he explained, gesturing towards the tent set aside for the family. “Wendell, put your tongue back in your head.”

“Sorry,” the boy said sheepishly. “It will just take me a little while to get used to it.”

Sirius shook his head amusedly as Wendell hurried off, though he could not deny that the sudden influx of magic was rather difficult to ignore. Still, he would not insult the man before him by losing his composure.

“Why don’t we get everything unpacked,” Lily suggested. “Girls, your tent is that one. Harry, where do you think you are going?”

“With them,” the boy answered with a grin as he began following the girls. “It’s got to be better than putting up with his snoring.”

Lily tutted at him.

“Go to your own tent, Harry,” she huffed.

The boy groaned, and Sebastien chuckled.

“Ah, to be so young and carefree.”

“He won’t be so carefree if Lily catches him sneaking in there,” Sirius assured him.

“Nor me,” Apolline added.

“Well, for the sake of amusement, I hope it is you that catches him. He’ll learn a thing or two when an irritated Veela is after his hide,” Sirius returned.

“Ha, you have no idea how right you are,” Sebastien snorted. “Come along, dear. Shall we get ourselves settled?”

Apolline nodded and placed a kiss on Sirius’s cheek.

“Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re w-welcome,” he managed to stammer out, struggling with the warmth burning his cheek.

He could only shake his head as the Delacours did indeed vanish into their tent, and Lily rolled her eyes at him.

“Go and fetch some more wood,” she urged. “I will begin making lunch.”

Sirius checked his watch.

“We have time before the vendors arrive. They’ll be here in an hour to lighten my coin purse.”

Not that it mattered.

It wasn’t as though he would ever be short on gold, and this was a once in a lifetime experience after all, and Sirius would see that all of those here would enjoy it as fully as possible.

(Break)

He inspected his wife closely, checking that not a hair or stitch was out of place before his gaze shifted towards his son. The boy resembled his closely, something Lucius was grateful for. He was not certain he could’ve stomached raising a boy that looked like a Black.

“We are to join the Minister shortly,” he explained. “I am uncertain who will be in attendance, but we can expect both Ministers from Bulgaria and Ireland, perhaps even Ludo and Crouch. Regardless, you are representing the family today, and you are to be on your very best behaviour. There will be no insults, Draco. You will be polite yet confident. Understood?”

The boy nodded sulkily.

He had hoped to watch the final with his friends with the rest of the lower classes, but Lucius would not have it. No, the Malfoys would be with the upper echelons of society, in the Ministerial box of all places, where he hoped to make the acquaintance of some more powerful contacts.

Once more, his gaze roamed over his wife, her impassive expression, lifeless, almost, and he removed the portkey Cornelius had given him from within his robes.

His marriage had been one of very few things his father had gotten right.

Lucius did not love Narcissa, and she no longer felt anything for him besides the respect she showed. Both had done their duty, produced an heir, and all but lived separate lives until such moments as these came along.

For the most part, she stuck to her own quarters, sipping on wine and probably lamenting the days she carried another name, and were it not so improper to do so, Lucius would’ve been rid of her.

No, Draco was fond of the woman, and if the boy was to follow in his footsteps, he needed to tread carefully.

Still, he longed for the day Narcissa would drink a little too much and perhaps drown herself in the long baths she liked to take.

His nose wrinkled slightly at the thought, and he smiled at the woman as he offered the portkey.

“Let us waste no more time,” he urged.

With that, the trio were transported from the stately home one of his ancestors had so meticulously had built, and only a moment later, arrived in a lavish box where Cornelius stood to greet them immediately.

“Lucius! I’m so glad you could join us. Come, allow me to introduce you to some of our other guests.”

“Minister,” Lucius returned cordially. “You of course remember my wife, Narcissa, and my son, Draco.”

“I do, I do,” Fudge said with his very best political smile in place. “Now, this is the Minister of Magic for Bulgaria, Gregor…”

The other cut in with an unintelligible name, and Lucius accepted the offered hand.

“And this is Cathal O’Shea, the Minister for Ireland.”

The Irishman offered Lucius a nod and shook his hand.

“Finally, I know that you are familiar with both Barty and Ludo!”

He was.

If the former had his way, Lucius would either be in Azkaban for the rest of his days or would have been given the Dementor’s kiss. Fortunately, Karkaroff had implicated Barty’s son for his part in the Death Eater activities, and Lucius had managed to avoid such a fate.

Just.

Barty had resigned from being the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and was replaced by the inexperienced Amelia Bones. Still, that didn’t mean Barty Crouch had forgotten. No, he was well aware, stiffly nodding a greeting before looking back towards the pitch below.

Ludo, however, was rather enthused to make his acquaintance, and all but tore Lucius’s hand from his arm before clumsily kissing Narcissa on the cheek.

“Not bad seats are they,” he declared.

Lucius fought the urge call the man a bumbling fool. Of course the seats and the view were not bad. They were in the Ministerial box. Why Bagman had been invited here, he didn’t know, but his mere presence was already beginning to annoy Lucius.

“Not quite the prestige box, but not so shabby,” Barty spoke up, his gaze not shifting.

“The prestige box?” Lucius questioned.

“The box Lord Black purchased, just over there,” Bagman explained, pointing towards the opposite side of the stadium, a level above their own.

Lucius frowned, snatching the Omnioculars from his son’s grasp before peering through them to get a better view. He could see nothing through the mirrored glass, but there was only one explanation as to why Black would have secured such a thing.

Potter was in there with him, and likely the boys’ mother.

Lucius’s nose wrinkled at the thought of them.

The future Lord Potter and Black; a title his son had been due to inherit, but it appeared Arcturus had been much savvier than Lucius’s own father had anticipated. Sirius had never been disowned, and he man had ensured the Potter boy was named his heir.

It had been a frustrating revelation, but not one set in stone.

If both Potter and Black were to die, Abraxas Malfoys’ plan could still be put into motion.

“He even hired his own private campsite,” Ludo commented amusedly, “and paid quite the sum in the process.”

He could almost feel the ghost of the smirk gracing his wife’s lips. She was indeed a Malfoy in name, but she had never let go of the belief that the family she had been born into was the epitome of wizarding Britain, that there was none that could stand above the Blacks.

Lucius would not deny that Sirius had done much to drag the name from the gutter, and had even earned the respect of his peers, but he was no Arcturus.

One day, perhaps sooner than the Lord Malfoy had anticipated, his efforts would prove to be for nothing, and not only would the Blacks cease to exist in name, but he would also see the final smugness of his wife torn away from the woman.

He nodded thoughtfully to himself, thinking ahead, his mind awash with ideas on just how he could see it done.

(Break)

“These are so cool!” Wendell declared, holding up a pair of the Omnioculars to his eyes, and gazing around the stadium. “I have no idea who any of these players are, but…”

He broke off with a shrug, and Harry chuckled amusedly.

“I think the last thing we need is someone like you with magical binoculars,” Marisa huffed. “I feel less safe already. Make sure you take them from him when the match is over.”

“I promise I will,” Harry assured her.

Wendell frowned confusedly.

“Why would she have a problem with me looking for magical creatures back home with them?” he asked.

Harry laughed as he clapped his friend on the shoulder, shuddering slightly as a familiar wave of magic washed over them.

“Go get us a Butterbeer,” he urged his friend, who was doing well to fend off the magic, but still had something of a habit of losing his composure, especially now that there were three Veela around them.

Wendell nodded appreciatively and moved over to one of the tables laden with refreshments to do so, and Harry approached Gabrielle’s sister. He had not spoken to the older girl much, but she seemed friendly enough, if not rather tense.

“You don’t need to be so nervous. Nothing is going to happen to you here.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Really, because I can feel the same magic coming from you as I did Gabrielle when we first met.”

“Maybe I am a little uncomfortable,” Fleur said with a shrug.

“Understandable, but you have nothing to be worried about here.”

“I am more than capable of handling myself, Harry Potter.”

She had spoken almost harshly, but Harry detected the slightly teasing tone in her voice, or perhaps that was just the magic of the Veela. He wasn’t sure, but it did not bother him.

“I do not doubt it.”

She turned to look at him curiously before shaking her head.

“It’s strange talking to a boy without them drooling,” she commented.

“Well, it’s not something we do on purpose,” Harry defended. “Your magic is quite something.”

“A gift as much as it can be a curse,” Fleur mused aloud.

Harry nodded.

“Well, you can rest assured that if you ever catch me drooling over you, it won’t be because of your magic,” he replied with a grin.

Fleur quirked an eyebrow at him before laughing; a sound that sent another shiver as he magic made itself known.

“Oh, you have never experienced what it is like when we actively use our magic,” she giggled. “You would not stand a chance.”

“Why bother when you wouldn’t need to go to those lengths?”

Fleur was taken aback by his comment and shook her head once more as she looked back towards the pitch.

“You are going to be a troublemaker, Harry Potter. I can tell. You already have six girls wrapped around your little finger, no?”

“I think it is them that has me wrapped around theirs,” Harry snorted. “Then again, you could make it seven. It is a magic number.”

She smiled, an unguarded smile that illuminated her features.

“Is it not bad enough that you have one of my daughters that finds you so endearing?” Sebastien sighed amusedly as he reached them.

“Well, it can’t be such a bad thing for both to find me so adorable.”

Sebastien laughed heartily.

“We haven’t been given much of an opportunity to speak, but I wanted to thank you, Harry. Gabrielle, well, she does not have the easiest time at school, and you and the rest of your little group, your letters are invaluable to her.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“She is one of us,” he replied simply, “and between you and me, for now, it won’t just be letters this year,” he added, handing the man the letter he had received that very morning.

Sebastien frowned as he opened it, his eyes widening slightly before he chuckled.

“She doesn’t know?”

“No one does, except for my mother, Sirius, and Professor Fontaine.”

“Well, then it will be quite the surprise for her. It will make her year seeing you walk into the Great Hall of the palace.”

“It is only a couple of times a week, but I will be able to spend time with her when I’m there, and make sure she is doing okay. I’ll even check in on this one for you,” he finished, nodding towards Fleur.

“I do not need checking up on, and certainly not by you, Harry Potter!”

“I think your father would be most displeased if I didn’t. The last thing I need to be doing is upsetting a high-ranking Ministry of Magic official.”

She glared at him, though there was no malice in it, and Sebastien laughed once more.

“It will be most appreciated, Harry.”

He gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before returning the other adults, and Fleur eyed him speculatively.

“Thank you, Harry,” she offered quietly. “I’m glad Gabrielle has you and the others.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Harry said dismissively. “It’s like I said, she is one of us. Now, what I am interested in is seeing my first Quidditch match. I want to know if it is better than Quodpot.”

“They are both quite barbaric.”

Harry laughed, though his amusement faded as he felt a similar magic to Fleur’s had begun to invade his senses, only much stronger than he’d ever experienced, but her look of horror allowed him not to be drawn in by it.

On the pitch below was a group of Veela, gyrating their hips suggestively and dancing for the amusement of those gathered.

Those within the box fell silent, and Harry did not miss the look of disappointment and even embarrassment of the Delacours at the display.

When the Veela were done, there was no clapping from any of them, and the silence became rather awkward.

“Wendell, if you ever try to dance like that, I will never forgive you,” Harry warned.

“Not me, Harry. Marisa is the one with the Brazilian hips.”

“Idiots,” the girl huffed, but the brief back and forth served the purpose of diverting the attention away from what had just happened, somewhat.

(Break)

He watched as the woman struggled against her bindings whilst she was under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. To the Dark Lord, it was a rather draconian method of extracting information, but to be able to delve into her mind in his preferred method, he needed her weakened.

He did not believe that Bertha Jorkins was particularly well-versed in the Mind Arts, but his own capabilities were quite limited in his current form.

“Please, I do not know what you want from me,” the woman gasped.

The Dark Lord nodded towards Quirinus, who immediately complied, subjecting her to another bout of torture.

When it was lifted a few moments later, Bertha had no words, and she had even stopped screaming, yet, she remained conscious. That was the beauty of the curse. The victims would not pass out, not even when their minds were on the brink of breaking completely.

“Legilimens,” the Dark Lord intoned, levelling his wand towards the mumbling woman.

Her mind was now fragile, and he tore through what meagre defences she possessed with so little effort on his part. When he was in the very consciousness, he realised quickly that something was amiss.

Bertha Jorkins’ mind had already been manipulated, memories hidden, and one in particular stood out to him.

He watched as the scene unfolded, as Bertha came upon a familiar man in a state that was quite unbecoming. He was under the Imperius Curse, being cared for by an elf, who was pleading with Bertha.

Only a moment later, another figure entered, another familiar man, who pointed his wand towards Bertha.

She did not have time to react as the memory charm was cast, and she had no recollection of it after.

Withdrawing from her mind and now in possession of the most useful snippet of information, the Dark Lord felt the exhaustion of his efforts begin to take their toll on him.

“We are going to Britain,” he murmured before he could no longer keep his eyes open.

That had been a few weeks prior, and he now found himself in the home that had belonged to his muggle relatives. Prior to arriving here with Quirinus and Wormtail, the last time the Dark Lord had been within these walls had been several decades ago, where he had dispatched of the shameful connection to the people that had lived here.

Muggles.

They had been nothing but filthy, well-off muggles.

Using his given name for a final time, he had gone through the process of claiming their assets, leaving him quite rich himself before shedding himself of his identity.

How his mother, a descendant of Slytherin himself, could bestow such mundanity upon him was something the Dark Lord could not comprehend, but she had proven to be weak, unable to even survive the simple process of birthing him.

“Ah, Wormtail, what have you learned?”

He eyed the swollen Nagini with distaste. The snake was full of the muggle gardener that had been here these past years, continuing to maintain the Riddle property.

“Barty is there, my lord,” the man confirmed. “Would you like me to…”

“No, not yet. We must not take any unnecessary risks. Barty will be fetched when it is prudent to do so, and he will prove to be a most useful asset. For now, you will feed me, Wormtail, and begin gathering the ingredients for what we need.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

The Dark Lord frowned at the question.

“Soon,” he answered thoughtfully. “I will decide soon.”

(Break)

“That was good, shorter than I expected, but good,” Wendell surmised.

“You were not impressed, Wendell?” Sebastien asked.

The boy shrugged.

“I was, but if Harry trained in Quidditch for a year, he could do it as well as anyone of them we saw. Don’t you think so, Maggie?”

The girl nodded.

“I’d never bet against him. I just don’t get how a team could be losing so badly can win if one player catches a single ball. That just means you have to have the best Seeker.”

What she said was true, but Harry had been quite enthralled by the display of flying, the frantic nature of the back and forth between the Chasers as they avoided Bludgers, and the duel of the Seekers.

Viktor Krum was only a few years older than him, an incredible flier in his own right, but Harry’s competitive nature only saw him as a rival, one that would certainly push him to his very limits, and someone that could certainly get the better of him.

“What do you think, Harry, do you think you’d do well?” Sirius asked challengingly.

He nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m not sure if I’d want to play Chaser or Seeker. I like the idea of the duel, but I’d be interested to see how well I’d do in the mix of it all.”

“You’d score just as many points as you do playing Quodpot,” Wendell said dismissively.

Harry chuckled amusedly.

“Well, I suppose we will never know. Pass me a sausage.”

The boy did so, and Harry did not miss the curious look of his godfather.

“You know, we could always sign you up for a Quidditch team. They do have them in America, or you could always attend a camp next year on the continent.”

“Go on, Harry,” Wendell encouraged. “You’d wipe the floor with them, and then when you’re rich and famous, you can buy me a creature reserve,” he added with a grin.

“Idiot,” Olivia huffed. “He’s already rich and famous.”

Wendell frowned before offering him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Harry, I didn’t think…”

“It’s alright,” Harry assured his friend.

He quite liked that he’d forgotten that Harry was already famous. It just meant that Wendell Green valued their friendship enough that everything else did not matter to him.

“I didn’t mean you have to get me a creature reserve, I…”

“Shut up, Wendell,” Harry snorted, throwing a piece of the sausage at the boy.

“What is Quodpot?” Fleur interjected after they had fallen silent for a moment.

The older girl had relaxed considerably since the two of them had first spoken, and as Olivia and Maggie went about the task of explaining the rule of the game, she listened politely, her gaze flitting towards Harry from time to time.

“I’d like to see you play,” she declared.

“So would I,” Gabrielle added.

“Well, if it can be arranged with Beauxbatons, it should not be a problem. We watch him play the final every year. It’s quite the event,” Sirius broke in. “We can always make a day of it.”

“I’d like that,” Fleur said with a smile.

“Here, you’ll have your own fan club soon enough,” Wendell chuckled, nudging Harry with his shoulder. “We should get some shirts made, and all the members of it can wear them.”

Harry could think of nothing worse than a fan club.

It was bad enough that he was already popular at school mostly because of his ability on a broom. He did not need something so ridiculous to emerge from it.

“I bet even Sabine would join it.”

Harry shook his head.

“Shut up, Wendell,” he huffed.

“Come on,” the boy pressed. “None of her brothers will be there this year, so she won’t be sneaking around so much to speak with you. Mark my words, she’ll be sniffing around you like flies on Hippogriff dung.”

Harry said nothing in response.

Instead, he chose to listen to the sounds of merriment around him, and those coming from the adjoining campsite where thousands of others were enjoying the festivities.

It had truly been one of the best experiences of his life being here with his mother, Sirius, and his friends, and he did not wish to sour his own memories by thumping Wendell for being a git.

Not that it would.

He was grateful for everything, even Wendell’s insistence on interfering in something that simply wasn’t, and he would undoubtedly remember this day for the rest of his life.

He woke with a start, though he was unsure of why it had happened so suddenly. Harry’s breath was laboured, and despite having gone to bed at least a couple of hours prior, he could still hear the ongoing festivities from the adjoining campsite.

Their own remined silent, and his sleep had not been disturbed by anything nearby, but he could not help but feel that something was amiss.

With a frown, he stood, garbed only in his pyjama bottoms with his wand in hand.

No, something wasn’t right, and as he made his way out of his tent, he realised that it wasn’t the sounds of merriment he could hear, but screams, frantic screaming.

Before he could rouse Sirius and the others, however, his godfather emerged from the tent, along with his mother, and Sebastien Delacour from the next one along.

“What the hell is that?” Sirius asked.

“Something’s wrong,” Lily answered.

Sirius cursed under his breath.

“I will check it out. Do not leave the campsite, and use your portkeys if you need to.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sebastien declared, and the two men hurried through the thicket of trees, leaving Harry alone with his mother.

“We’d better wake the others,” Lily suggested.

With a nod, Harry hurried into his own tent to alert Wendell.

“What’s going on?” the boy asked sleepily.

“I don’t know, but something. Get up!”

Wendell was immediately alert, and whilst he quickly dressed, Harry pulled his jacket on before rushing back outside to see the remaining Delacours and the girls emerge from their own.

“Where is Sebastien?” Apolline asked.

“With Sirius,” Lily answered reassuringly.

Harry was barely paying attention.

Although he was quite alert, and knew they were safe here, his gaze did not leave the treeline a short distance away, his senses telling him that something was still not right with the situation they found themselves in.

“Everyone, over here,” he instructed, his voice a lot calmer than he was feeling. “Now!”

“What is it?” his mother asked.

“I don’t know, but something is out there.”

Lily watched the trees closely and stepped in front of him, something Harry was not comfortable with.

“Do you all have your portkeys?” she murmured.

They did.

It was something Sirius had been adamant of before they’d even arrived here.

“Good. We will activate them now.”

Harry did so, only to frown as he realised it hadn’t worked, that he remained where he had been standing.

“Don’t panic,” he urged. “It won’t do any of us any good.”

Instinctively, he blocked one of the incoming flurry of spells that erupted from within the trees as he pulled his mother out of the path of another.

The woman, however, tore herself from his grip, her own wand snapping upwards. A blue bot of magic careened from the end, and a scream followed, declaring that her aim had been true.

“Harry, you need to get into the trees, get far enough away that you can use the portkeys. Listen to me,” she added firmly, “your responsibility is to get them out of here. GO!”

He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to carry out the promise he had made several years prior, but Harry knew she was right.

With a reluctant nod, he began leading the others into the trees, away from the danger, lighting the tip of his wand so that none of them would get lost.

“Come on,” he urged, checking that all who were supposed to be with him were, relieved to see they had the sense to hold onto one another as he led them further and further away from the campsite.

For how long they ran, Harry didn’t know, but when he felt that the magic that was keeping them there lifted, he stopped.

“Now!”

They did not hesitate, and they arrived a just a moment later after a turbulent, sudden trip in a pile of limbs on the floor of the basement back at the ranch.

Most groaned unhappily, but when they managed to free themselves, it was Wendell who spoke first, his eyes shifting to each member of the group.

“Shit! Where the hell is Harry?”

(Break)

Fires were already burning by the time Sirius and Sebastien had made it into the adjoining campsite. People were fleeing, screaming for their loved ones, and a wide path of destruction had been left in the wake of a group of cloaked figures making their way through the swathes of burning tents.

In the din of the screams, they could hear cheers of jubilation, and Sirius spotted several limp figures dangling in the air as they were paraded through the remains of the campground.

“Death Eaters,” he confirmed in disbelief.

“We have to help them!” Sebastien insisted.

Sirius nodded, and the two men hurtled forward with their wands drawn, dousing some of the more dangerous fires along the way.

Given that the Death Eaters did not appear to be attempting to flee in a hurry, they caught up to them only a few moments later, and Sirius took aim.

His first spell collided with the back of one of the men, and he was slammed into the face first. Before he could scramble to his feet, another spell rendered him unconscious, and Sirius knew if he did not get help quickly, he would be dead within a matter of minutes.

Not that he was able to linger on such a thought for long.

Their presence had been noted, and they quickly came under attack, but it became clear that the Death Eaters were not eager to engage any that were able to offer considerable resistance.

No, they hastily dropped the bodies they’d been levitating and began retreating, much like they did during the war when confronted.

Nonetheless, Sirius was not willing to let them go so easily, and he gave chase, hurling curse after curse after them until they vanished like the cowards they were.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed.

Sebastien nodded his agreement, and although there were dozens of people around them that could use their help, Sirius was already sprinting back towards their own campsite.

The Frenchman followed, and as they neared, they realised that their troubles had only just begun.

“Harry!”

Their pace did not slow as they tore through the trees, and if it wasn’t for Sebastien pulling him to the ground, Sirius would’ve fallen victim to a killing curse that came at them from the darkness.

“Shit!”

Rolling away from the follow up, he sprang to his feet and offered a rebuttal which tore a chunk from one of the trees, causing it to groan in protest as Sirius set his feet, and continued to fire spell after spell at everything that moved in a bid to reach the campsite.

Nonetheless, their progress was slow, and although he could not see how many he and Sebastien found themselves facing, they found themselves strained by a seemingly endless flurry of spells to contend with.

Whoever had planned this, Sirius did not know, but there were few with such influence that it would not take him long to unearth the truth.

For now, however, it did not matter, and as they were granted the briefest of lulls, he struck back, his wand a blur as he charged forwards once more, breaking through, but coming upon a scene that gave him pause.

Both Lily and Apolline were fighting for their lives, and now, so were Sirius and Sebastien as the four of them found themselves surrounded on all sides.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, unleashing a barrage of spells courtesy of his own family.

“Getting the others out of here!”

Sirius nodded grimly.

With what they were facing, it was the best he could’ve hoped for, and yet, only brought him a semblance of relief knowing that they were quite trapped, outnumbered, and once more found themselves fending off an seemingly endless assault by an inordinate number of foes.

(Break)

He knew that his mother would be furious with him, that he would likely not see the light of day until he was legally an adult, but Hary could not simply bring himself to leave.

It was not in his nature to flee, and having gotten his friends safely away, he had quickly made his way back towards the campsite, vanishing beneath the folds of his cloak whilst pondering what he could do.

“In a duel, it is often the fastest, cleverest, and most creative competitor that will win. Sprinkle in a little ruthlessness and no limits on what you are willing to do, you will be a formidable opponent. When it comes to combat, strategy is key. You can be the greatest of warriors, but if you run blindly into a fight you are not prepared for, you will die. Oh, your grandfather could trade spells with the best of them, but above all else, Harry, he was a tactician. That is why I am sitting here now, because Charlus Potter left no stone unturned whilst preparing for war. He made sure he knew every nook and cranny of the land, every strength and every weakness of those he fought against, and every advantage he could utilise.”

Harry did not have all the benefits he would like in the scenario he found himself in, but he did have the element of surprise, the means to ensure he could work clandestinely, and more reason than any to see those cloaked figures were not successful in their efforts.

With that in mind, he set to work, carefully navigating his way through the trees, preparing quickly a chain of events that would, at the very least, draw more attention to the area than the Death Eaters were comfortable with, all the while, deeply aware of the spells flying around him, some a little too close for comfort.

He did not consider how it was the Dark Lord’s followers came to be here, or what their intention had been; only how he could be rid of them to keep his mother and Sirius safe.

Lily Potter had been willing to give her life for him, even now, Harry did not doubt she would do so, but that was not something he was willing to allow, and as he finished his hurried preparations, he knew he would need to strike soon.

Making his way through the trees in the direction the spells were being fired, he soon came upon the clearing that his mother, Sirius, and the Delacour parents were pinned down in, and with a shake of his head, he sprinted into the centre, pocketing his cloak as he did so.

“Harry, what are you doing here?”

He had never seen his mother so terrified, and though he knew he was in for quite the lecture, if they managed to get out of this, Harry didn’t care.

“You might want to duck!” he urged. “DUCK!”

Throwing himself on top of her, Harry covered his ears, but he could still hear the explosion and felt the ground trembling beneath them. Despite this, he knew his work was not done, and he stood to hurl the vial he’d been clutching.

The resulting gout of fire tore through the trees around them, and only a damned fool would not flee from it.

Evidently, the Death Eaters believed so too, but what Harry had not accounted for was a final offering of spells to head towards as they departed, and though he raised his wand in time to block them, something tore through his defences.

He felt his body hit the ground, but the world around him fell almost silent. His ears were still ringing from the explosion he’d caused, but it was his inability to breathe, speak, or even see much of the greyish hue that filled his vision.

Blood.

He could smell the tang of it, and taste it as his mouth filled, but could do nothing to prevent it.

“HARRY!”

He had done it. He had kept her safe.

It was a desperate scream, but in that moment, Harry knew that his mother was well, and even in death, that was all that mattered to him.