A Promise Kept - Chapter 23 - Further Pursuits

Further Pursuits

For the first time since she’d made the return journey to Hogwarts for her second year, she was not dreading her time at school. She loved the castle, adored learning magic and exploring her talents, but there were those within the castle that had made her experience rather unpleasant.

That was until a rather sudden and unexpected interference from a boy she had only ever heard whispers and rumours about.

Harry Potter had changed Hogwarts almost overnight, well, for those young enough to find themselves a victim of Draco Malfoy and his group of bullies.

For the rest of the previous year, the boy had been quiet, had not dared continue on as he had been before Harry had struck against him, and Hermione hoped he remembered the harsh lesson he’d been given.

“What is that you are reading?” Neville asked curiously, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Oh, it’s a book for Muggle Studies.”

Neville shook his head.

“I’ll never understand why you chose it. You live in a muggle house and grew up in the muggle world.”

“It’s interesting to see how witches and wizards view muggles.”

“Only you, Hermione,” Neville chuckled, frowning as the door slid open.

“Ah, if it isn’t the squib and the mudblood,” Draco drawled as he entered the compartment, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, who somehow appeared not only larger, but even more gormless than they had the previous year.

Both laughed, which sounded more like a grunt, and Draco beamed, evidently quite proud of his insult.

“You might want to be careful, Draco,” Hermione warned. “You don’t want a repeat of what happened to you last year.”

For a fleeting second, the boy appeared to be concerned before he schooled his features.

“My father would not allow it to happen again!”

“Shame he couldn’t stop it last time.”

Usually, Hermione would find herself nervous, worried about what Draco would do to her, but having seen his reaction to what had happened to him in the Great Hall after Harry’s visit, she felt nothing of the sort.

Draco was a pathetic bully, and not only had she grown tired of being fearful of him, but she also knew she had no reason to be.

He flushed slightly at her comment, and he drew his wand.

“You’d better watch it, you filthy lit…”

Instead of cowering to him, as she had more times than she cared to count, Hermione stood, and in lieu of drawing her wand, rammed her fist into Draco’s nose.

He fell backwards into Crabbe and Goyle, who managed to prevent him from falling, and he stared at her, wide-eyed as a trail of blood leaked from his nostrils.

“Piss off, Malfoy!”

Not wanting to wait for a response, she slammed the door and took her seat, shaking from the adrenaline of the incident as she picked up her book.

“Bloody hell, Hermione! Where did that come from?” Neville asked, shaking himself from the shock.

“I have no idea.”

She didn’t.

Perhaps she was simply no longer scared of Draco and what he might do to her, or maybe it was that spending time with the others over the summer had emboldened her somewhat.

Regardless, Hermione would not deny that finally getting her own back on Malfoy felt good, better than anything else she had ever done.

“You’re going to be in so much trouble,” Neville sighed.

Hermione shrugged.

“It was worth it.”

Neville could only shake his head, and the two of them fell into a companiable silence for what little remained of the journey, disembarking the train and entering one of the waiting carriages that would take them to the castle.

“Is it true? Please, tell me it is true.”

“Is what true?” Hermione asked the excited Ron Weasley.

“That you decked Malfoy! Did you really punch him? Seamus says he saw you do it.”

“She did,” Neville confirmed, “and you might just already be in trouble, Hermione,” he added, nodding towards Professor Snape, who was waiting at the foot of the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall.

“Miss Granger, you will come to my office when the feast has concluded,” he instructed, his nostrils flaring in anger before he turned sharply away and entered the castle.

“It was still worth it,” Hermione murmured.

(Break)

Dear Harry,

I hope this finds you well.

I wish we were able to see each other again before the school term started, but there is always next summer, I hope.

Thank you for the wonderful box. The only drawback to ever sending you a letter was knowing it would take a few days for you to receive it. Now, if this works, that won’t be a problem.

My grandmother came to see us for the last week of the holiday, and she really wants to meet you again.

I don’t know if you are aware, but it was announced this evening at the welcoming feast that the Triwizard Tournament has been reinstated at Hogwarts this year.

Fleur seems really excited, so, I suppose she will be submitting her name to be considered as a champion.

Anyway, I miss you, so please write back soon.

Love,

Gabrielle

She folded the letter and placed it in the box Harry had sent her for her birthday before closing the lid. When she opened it again, it was gone, and if it worked as intended, would appear in Harry’s own instantly.

The gift brought a smile to her lips.

Harry had promised that he would be using the method to send all the letters she received from Ilvermorny, so there would be no lengthy delays in hearing from her friends.

She shook her head as she pondered the last time they had been all together.

Had it not been for Harry somehow becoming aware of the threat against them, they might well have been burned alive in their tents, and had he not been so stupid and brave, she may have lost her parents.

Even so, he had been gravely injured in the process, and all of them had almost lost him.

That night could’ve proven to be quite the disaster, and though Hary had been hurt, none of them had been killed, and it was all because of him.

“Idiot,” she sighed, frowning as the box on her bedside table glowed blue, and she smiled once more as she opened it, spotting the note with the familiar scrawl.

Here, she was all but friendless, but with this box, Gabrielle knew she would not be so lonely anymore.

(Break)

He scratched behind the ears of the little griffin that had taken to following him around whenever he left the house, well, that was until Aurelius would inevitably arrive to fetch her.

It amused Harry to no end to the see the male he’d raised from a babe act almost as frustratedly as his own mother did when she’d done much the same thing when Harry had been younger.

Even the expression the griffin sported was similar.

“We still need a name for you, girl,” he murmured.

The little griffin clicked her beak at him and chattered away for several moments.

“Hera,” he decided. “The goddess of many, including the stars and sky.”

The griffin tilted her head before taking flight, lapping the property a few times before landing next to him once more.

“I assume you approve,” Harry chuckled, wincing slightly as his scar pulled taught on his ribs.

For the most part, he was experiencing no more discomfort, but from time to time, it was as though his own body was reminding him of what it was he had endured.

Not that he needed it.

His mother did a good enough job of that herself., and the odd dreams he had experienced since certainly did not help.

Maybe they were a lingering effect of the Veela magic Mrs Delacour had used to save him, but it wasn’t as though Harry was going to be asking anyone.

That would be wholly embarrassing for him, and the woman if she ever found out about them.

No, he would remain silent on the matter, and certainly not mention them to his mother.

He grimaced at the thought before shaking his head, realising that he and Hera were no longer alone.

“Oh, I think you might be in trouble.”

He nodded towards where the rest of the herd was making their way towards them, with Aurelius leading from the front. In his usual sign of frustration, he nudged his daughter with his head, pushing her back to her place in the group.

“She’s been no trouble,” Harry assured his oldest friend, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. “Her name is Hera, by the way.”

Aurelius turned to look at the girl before chirping his approval and lingered for only another moment whilst Harry patted him a little more.

It was still as peaceful as ever here, and though a considerable part of his summer had not been, it would be over soon enough.

He had spent the final days of his break doing his utmost to not focus on what had happened at that campsite, to not dwell on the fact that someone had made an attempt on his life, and had it not been for Apolline Delacour, would likely have succeeded.

I wasn’t fear that kept him from wanting to revisit those thoughts, but a palpable anger that threatened to spill over whenever it entered his mind.

One day, Harry would discover who it was that had cast that spell, and when he did, he would return the favour, though he would ensure he was successful in his efforts.

He released a deep breath to calm himself and chose to focus on the better things that had happened, well, one was indeed an honour but would certainly cut into his already small amount of free time.

He ran his thumb over the badge pinned to his robes.

Harry had not expected to be given the captaincy of the Quodpot team, but he would not deny that receiving it only a few days prior had filled him with a sense of pride.

Initially, he had been debating whether or not he would continue playing this year, but in truth, Quodpot had become his escape from everything else, his moments he could forget all of his other responsibilities and enjoy playing a sport he was good at.

Still, he wasn’t certain what being the captained entailed.

He knew that Adams used to post the training schedule and team selection on the notice board in the common room and was responsible for trials at the beginning of the year.

Perhaps that was it, but he would check with Professor Clarke when he spoke with her about his schedule for the year.

Working with Flitwick, McGonagall, and Madame Alarie meant that arrangements would need to be made to accommodate his timetable, but he expected is Head of House had already considered that.

Even so, he was looking forward to working with the French professor.

She was considered to be a rare talent in Charms and Enchanting, and Harry did not doubt he would learn much from her.

“I’m not just going to die,” he chuckled amusedly, sensing Olivia’s gaze on him once more.

“You almost did,” the girl replied sadly.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

Olivia hummed as she took his hand under the table.

Hary had not considered the impact of what had happened would have on his friends. Each of them had visited whilst he’d remained in St Mungo’s, and he’d been rather humbled by how devastated each of them had been.

He’d never seen any of them upset in such a way, and now, they were all rather clingy.

It was quite endearing in a way, and he understood. He was fiercely protective of all of them, and would likely be much the same, but he hoped it wouldn’t last.

It would make his coming and going of Ilvermorny more difficult to explain, even if his close friends already knew what he was up to.

They hadn’t discussed it but had mentioned it in passing likely in a bid for Harry to open up to them, and he felt guilty for not doing so. He had made a promise to Professor Flitwick that he would not divulge what the two of them were doing together.

Professor McGonagall, however, had not set such restrictions, so, he would at least be able to share that he was working with her, just as his father would’ve done if things had not been so dire in Britain.

He smiled sadly at the thought and wondered if his James Potter would’ve been interested in entering the Triwizard Tournament.

Sirius had explained to him that very morning that it was to be reintroduced, that the news would likely reach Ilvermorny, and it had done so, but it had been Gabrielle who had written to him.

From what he could gather, it was a dangerous competition, more than enough to make his godfather rather nervous about it, but the man was angrier that a former Death Eater would be within the castle.

Igor Karkaroff.

Harry couldn’t say he was familiar with the name, but Sirius had informed him of the now Headmaster’s part in naming several Death Eaters during his own trial, including the son of Barty Crouch.

Somehow, the Wizengamot had agreed the information had been worth escaping a lengthy stay in Azkaban, but that did not surprise Harry.

Many others had been let off far too lightly for their part in Voldemort’s uprising, and he did not doubt that they would one day flock to him again.

“Come on, the feast is over,” Olivia spoke, pulling him from his thoughts. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Harry nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured the girl, unable to ignore the rather provocative grin Sabine Van Droombeeld gave him as she passed them by.

“We told you,” Olivia sighed, shooting a glare at the retreating girl’s back. “We did say she wouldn’t be so subtle now that her brothers aren’t here.”

Harry chuckled as he shook his head.

“Believe me, I’ve had more than my fair of trouble to last me a while. Besides, I’m far too busy to even think about dating anyone.”

Olivia quirked an eyebrow at him, and the two of them left the Great Hall.

“I’m sure she will find a way to get a few moments with you. She managed it before.”

“I wouldn’t call them moments,” Harry denied. “We just happened to bump into each other.”

Olivia hummed.

“Of course you did, you ignorant, innocent fool. Come on, you look as though you could use some sleep.”

“Are you putting me to bed or sending me?”

“You know, I haven’t really thought about it,” Olivia mused aloud. “No, I think I’d better send you. You said yourself you’ve had more than your fair share of trouble. We don’t want to overdo it on the excitement, do we Harry?”

He could only shake his head in response.

She wasn’t overtly flirty with him, but from time to time, he did not miss the suggestive comments, and if truth be told, it was more than his addled teenage brain could handle.

“Bloody girls,” he huffed, making a mental note to send a message to Gabrielle before he turned in for the night.

Come the morning, another busy school year would truly begin, and Harry did not doubt it would be the busiest and most challenging yet.

(Break)

He watched as the Parkinson girl charged into the Great Hall and immediately made a beeline for Snape. Sirius usually paid little attention to the girl. She was one of Draco’s lackeys, and he remembered her father well enough to know that he would have told her to hang around the boy like an unpleasant smell.

He had done the same with Lucius since he was old enough to pucker his lips, after all.

“Professor, quick, Draco is bleeding!”

“What happened, Miss Parkinson?” Snape asked as he stood from his seat at the staff table.

“Granger punched him, Professor!”

Sirius fought the urge to snicker.

If Hermione had indeed punched Draco, it was something that had been a long time coming. After years of torment, it was the least he deserved.

“That does not sound like Miss Granger,” Minerva protested.

“There are witnesses, Professor,” Parkinson replied.

Minerva frowned and shook her head as Snape followed the girl.

“I think Harry might be something of a good influence on her,” Sirius declared amusedly.

Minerva hummed.

“Severus will be most unpleasant.”

“No, he won’t,” Sirius denied. “If he assigns her detentions, she will serve them with me.”

“He will never allow it.”

“I won’t give him any choice.”

Minerva murmured something under her breath, and a deep frown creased her brow as Snape returned, looking a little too pleased with himself for Sirius’s liking.

“Is it true?” he asked.

“I have no reason to doubt my students, Black. The girl will serve a month of detention.”

“And I have no reason to doubt that she had more reason than any to thump the arrogant little git. If she punched him, she should serve a lengthy spell of detentions, but she will do so with me. You have proven you cannot treat the students fairly.”

“How dare you!” Severus hissed.

“Oh, shut up, Snape,” Sirius snorted. “You were never that intimidating when we were kids. Just because you kissed the Dark Lord’s arse, that hasn’t changed. Besides, I think given that you have already shown a disdain for muggleborns over the years, it is in everyone’s best interest that she does not spend any more time than necessary around you. Or, if you like, I will be happy to supervise them in the dungeons with you. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, aren’t they?”

His words had stung the other man, and he offered no response.

“Don’t worry, Severus, I will ensure she serves the full month.”

Minerva offered him a veiled smirk, but Sirius was not feeling especially amused.

His words had the desired effect on Snape, but he had wound himself in the process as he found himself pondering just why the man was here. He understood that Albus was forgiving to a fault, but Snape had been a Death Eater, and as far as he was concerned, there was no redemption for any of them.

He watched as the girl read through one of her school texts.

Of course, he couldn’t say it, but he was proud of her for finally sticking up for herself, and he certainly wasn’t going to punish Hermione. No, on the contrary, he had a better idea.

“That wasn’t the most subtle of ways to get back at him, was it?” he asked. “That is something I would expect from Harry if he was confronted like that.”

“Maybe I’ve spent too much time with him.”

“Or not enough,” Sirius replied, hiding his amusement. “Put your book away, Miss Granger. Whilst you are here, I think you would benefit from a little more in-depth studying in how to defend yourself. Punching people is satisfying, believe me. I experienced that for myself in a similar manner to you, but you will find yourself in more trouble with the Aurors than if you use your wand.”

“Really?”

Sirius nodded.

“To the purebloods, physically attacking someone is an insult to them that lacks honour and decorum. I can show you some other ways that they cannot take offense to. Mind, they should only be used in situations that you feel threatened. Understood?”

Hermione appeared as though she did not quite believe him, but as she nodded and did as she was bid, she could see that he was not jesting.

Professor Black was going to teach her a thing or two, and though she was not one to seek out altercations, she was certainly not adverse to learning how to handle them better when they came along.

(Break)

Gabrielle had learned not to pay so much attention to her peers whilst being at school. From the moment her name had been learned upon her arrival, she had been looked upon with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, and as time went on the former vanished as it was seemingly decided that she was much like the Veela that had performed at the World Cup.

That was the prevailing stereotype, and Gabrielle knew that no matter what she did, nothing would change it.

Even so, she had not failed to notice the girls in her year and how much they had seemed to have grown over the summer where she seemed to be stuck in the body of a child.

She knew that Veela matured differently to their human counterparts and even remembered Fleur’s rather sudden changes during the summer before her fourth year.

Gabrielle had thought that she would follow suit, but then again, perhaps it was better she hadn’t.

She remembered the additional attention her sister had received from the boy at the school, and more so the hate-filled glares.

No, although she wished to finally begin becoming a woman, she did not wish to be subjected to such treatment. School was already difficult enough, and she did not wish for it to become harder.

“Are you going to eat all of those pastries?”

Gabrielle had not realised that much of the hall within the palace had fallen silent, and not even the boy that had taken a seat next to her as though it was a regular occurrence.

For a moment, she was convinced she was seeing things, or was experiencing the strangest of dreams, but no, he was really here.

“Harry!” she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck.

It was the most welcome of surprises, and she did not even think to question why he was at Beauxbatons. All that mattered was that he was sitting next to her, and Gabrielle became acutely aware of the stares they were receiving.

“As you can see, we have a guest among us,” Madame Maxime announced. “You will see Mr Potter around the palace from time to time whilst he studies with Madame Alarie. I expect all of you to make him feel welcome.”

The students began murmuring amongst themselves, with many craning their necks to get a better look at him, but Harry took it in his stride well enough, likely having dealt with it at his own school.

“You’re studying here?”

“Only for a few hours a week, but I will make sure to stick around a little longer.”

Gabrielle positively beamed at the revelation, knowing that her school life had become just that little more bearable.

“Are you here because of me?” she asked.

Harry shook his head.

“No, I was encouraged to write to Madame Alarie to work on my Charms and Enchantments. You being here is just an added perk.”

“So, I’m just an added perk?” Gabrielle challenged.

“Yes, now, are you going to share that food or not? From what Sirius has told me, France has some edible pastries.”

“Edible? We have the best!”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gabrielle frowned at the boy as he took a bite out of a croissant and waited for his verdict.

“Well?” she pressed.

Harry shrugged in response.

“It’s not bad.”

He was trying to irk her, and she shook her head as she snatched the pastry from his grasp.

“Oi, I was eating that.”

“Then you should not be so ungrateful.”

She took a bite of it herself, not enjoying it half as much as she did the pout Harry was sporting.

“You have been here for five minutes and she is already getting under your skin. I think you might regret coming, Harry,” Fleur said amusedly as she approached.

“You might be right.”

“Wait, you knew about this?”

“Harry told me in the box at the World Cup.”

“And you didn’t tell me!”

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” Fleur replied with a grin. “Have fun, but not too much fun. Papa will not be happy.”

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at her sister, not realising that Harry had taken the croissant back from her and had already devoured most of it.

“It tastes better now knowing it was yours.”

Gabrielle could only shake her head.

She was unable to describe just how happy she was that Harry was here, and knowing it would be a regular thing, the prospect of a much better school year had become a reality.

(Break)

She remembered the very first time she had been here.

Lily had been with her parents, shortly after Professor McGonagall visited the family home to inform her of her place at Hogwarts, and though she had not fully understood what being a witch entailed, Diagon Alley had given her quite the glimpse into wizarding culture.

Even now, little had changed except for the newer buildings that had replaced those destroyed during the war, but the businesses were much the same save for a few.

Back when she had been just a girl, she had visited Gringotts so that her father could exchange some muggle money for magical galleons, had purchased robes, books, and the thing she had been most excited about, her wand.

She still had that, and even some of the books in her trunk, but everything else had been outgrown many years prior.

Being here now brought back a slew of memories, of when she had first discovered what magic was during an encounter with Severus in the park.

He had been a sweet boy, at least to her, but that had changed over the following years.

By the time they had reached their fifth year, Lily no longer recognised him from the company he chose to keep, and the unpleasantness he’d adopted. Of course, she had still been disappointed by the choices he’d made, but now, she was numb to them.

The Dark Lord had cost her James, and even now, his remining followers continued to plague her.

She had often wondered how different things would be had their not been a war.

Would she and James have rushed to get married, or would they even have married at all? Would Harry be here now, and what would life have become for them as a family?

Lily tried not to ponder such things for long. It only served to remind her of what may or may not have been, or whether or not the things she cared for would be the same or how she envisioned them.

Things had become what they were, and dwelling on the ‘what-ifs’ of life benefitted none.

Finding the courage to visit Diagon Alley once more was not something she was sure she’d ever achieve, and although it was as nostalgic as it was painful, she had finally done it, had walked the same path her eleven-year-old-self had, though it had led her to somewhere she had not intended to be.

Aside from visiting the Granger household, she had not been in a muggle street since before she had graduated Hogwarts, and Lily was not certain how she would be received.

Before that fateful day she had met Severus, she and Petunia had been as close as any sisters, but that had changed in a matter of moments.

Petunia had not taken Lily going to Hogwarts well and had even written to the school in a bid to be accepted.

Lily remembered when the reply had been received, the jealousy and bitterness of her sister, and how she had barely exchanged two words with her since.

Why she was here now, she couldn’t be certain.

Perhaps she just wished to see for herself that Petunia had found a semblance of happiness, or even that she had let go of her envy.

She shook her head as she reached the foot of the path leading to number four, Privet Drive, a street devoid of any character or personality. It was almost anti-septic in nature, but somehow, it suited the girl that Lily remembered.

Approaching the front door, she knocked, and only a moment later, she could see the silhouette of someone approaching before it was opened.

It surprised Lily just how different she and Petunia had always looked, and those differences had become only more glaring over the years.

From the blonde hair, pointed features, thin lips, and teeth that appeared to be too big for her mouth, Lily could see no similarities between them.

Still, Petunia recognised her immediately, and her eyes widened when she realised who it was that was visiting after so many years without contact.

“You,” she whispered.

It was neither hostile nor welcoming, merely an acknowledgement.

“Hello, Petunia,” Lily greeted her, feeling much less than she had anticipated from her time in Diagon Alley.

There, she had been able to relive that new-found excitement she’d experienced as a child, but here, she was reminded only of the bitterness, of how her own sister had shunned her, and how differently their lives had turned out.

Nonetheless, Petunia was still her sister, all the family she had left outside of the magical world, and Lily knew she would have regretted not coming here more than having done so.

“W-would you like to come in?” Petunia asked.

Lily nodded, and did not miss the frantic peering towards the other houses of her sister.

Perhaps there was something of a little courtesy in the invitation, but she suspected, for the most part at least, she was worried Lily would begin casting magic and living up to the nickname she had taken to using to refer to her during her summer holidays as a teenager.

Freak.

Maybe Petunia had changed, but truthfully, given the reception she’d received, Lily did not think that was so.

(Break)

Madame Alarie was younger than Harry had expected.

She was perhaps in her early to mid-forties at most, but as with all magicals, it was not so easy to tell for certain. However, he was expecting to be working with a much older woman, given the credentials she had obtained.

Beautiful would not even come close to cutting it when describing her.

The long length of blonde hair was tinged with purple, and her eyes were almost a pale silver colour, giving her an ethereal appearance. Whether or not she was fully human, he did not know.

Nonetheless, it was her ability with magic that had immediately enthralled him.

Her office was full of little trinkets the woman had enchanted, each of them as brilliant as the next.

She looked on almost amusedly as he inspected them, and Harry could only shake his head.

“These are incredible,” he murmured. “I’ve never been around so many things with so many different magicks imbued into them.”

“You can sense them?” Madame Alarie asked curiously.

Harry nodded as he picked up what looked to be turtle shell made from porcelain.

“This is enchanted to ensure your room stays at your preferred temperature, and will even change the brightness of the lights,” he explained before placing it back on the shelf he had retrieved it from. “This is connected to your quill to make sure it is always inked.”

He held up the silver thimble and frowned at it curiously.

“The enchantments on this are older than most of the other things on here, so it was one of the first things you created when you took the teaching post at Beauxbatons around twelve years ago.”

The woman quirked an eyebrow at him before nodding for Harry to continue.

He paused as he reached the next item. It was a seemingly innocent mirror, but it was not so, and every one of his instincts was warning him not to pick it up, let alone look into it.

“This is quite the security device,” he acknowledged. “The enchantments on this are compelling me to pick it up, but if I do, I will be paralysed the moment I look into it. If the spell on me is not broken, I will become so obsessed with my own reflection, that I would sooner die than look away. This is really dangerous.”

“It is,” Madame Alarie agreed. “Mr Potter, you have an exceptional ability when it comes to identifying magic, especially with so much of it surrounding you. It is difficult enough to do it when presented with a single item.”

“I’ve always been able to feel it,” Harry explained. “When I was younger, I didn’t know what it was, only that some things would not harm me, and that other things would. The more I learn about magic, the more useful feeling it the way I can becomes.”

Madame Alarie offered him a brilliant smile.

“It was much the same for me. It is not an unheard-of skill, and it can even be learned by those that dedicate themselves to it, but to be naturally so in tune with magic is quite something. I think you are going to benefit considerably from working with me. We will look at different types of charms and enchantments, of course, but I would like to introduce you to all of the types of magicks you might encounter, to familiarise you with them whilst I teach you some invaluable skills. How does that sound to you?”

Harry nodded.

“That sounds perfect.”

Her smile widened.

“I was sceptical,” she admitted. “I receive requests for tuition from many parents, and even people no longer at school to tutor them and their children who they believe has some incredible, natural talent to be explored. When I received your letter, it was your name that made me curious, but I did not pay it much heed until I received a letter from Tara Clarke that spoke of your potential. You certainly have it, Harry, but that only means I expect you to work harder than anyone else.”

“You will get my very best.”

“Good, then let us not waste any more time,” Madame Alarie urged. “Let us begin.”

(Break)

He had spent the past several weeks since arriving back in Britain reading newspapers to occupy his time. Peter had been most useful in retrieving copies from the archives from the last thirteen years, meaning that the Dark Lord had quite grounding in what had changed since he had fallen.

In truth, it was not so different.

The Minister of magic was a bumbling fool, the Wizengamot was quite stagnant, and Dumbledore was still the wizard the masses fell to their knees before.

In theory, his resurgence should go off without a hitch, but there were those glaring differences that would not make it so easy.

Because of Sirius Black, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had not been depleted. In fact, it had undergone considerable changes through investment, and the Auror force was much stronger than it had been during his rise a few decades prior, and was led by quite the formidable witch that few would wish to cross wands with.

No matter. The Dark Lord would deal with the likes of Amelia Bones, and even Sirius black when the time was right.

All of those things, however, were concerns for another day.

He watched as a tired Peter Pettigrew entered the room before prostrating himself before his master.

“Ah, Wormtail, what have you learned?”

“Barty is alive, my lord,” he confirmed. “He is being held under the Imperius Curse, just as Bertha Jorkins had seen.”

“He is well?”

“He is not the same man he was,” Wormtail sighed. “Until the curse is broken, it is impossible to tell what damage being under has done to his mind.”

Lord Voldemort frowned.

If he had indeed been held under it these past years, it could’ve had quite the detrimental effect on him.

“What else?”

“Karkaroff, my lord. He is the Headmaster of Durmstrang and will be at Hogwarts for the duration of the tournament.”

The Triwizard Tournament.

He had paid it little mind in the news of the British delegation arriving in Albania when he had been there, but perhaps he was missing quite the opportunity.

“Is it possible to place an agent within the castle?”

“Not impossible, my lord, but it will not be easy. Dumbledore will be vigilant and watching anyone new closely. There are no staff changes that can be taken advantage of, and there is no telling what security measures will be in place.”

The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully as he pondered the prospect of furthering his plans, weighing up the risk and reward factors.

“I will think of something, Wormtail. For now, I want you to continue gathering the ingredients we will need.”

“You have a plan, my lord.”

“Several, Wormtail, but I will only share them when the time is right.”

With so many prominent enemies to be rid of, the Dark Lord had concocted plans within plans that not even the old fool could hope to unravel before it was too late.

He would implement all of them in time, but the most pressing was ensuring he was able to, and for that, he needed a capable body of his own.

“Quirinus!” he called.

The man answered immediately, and the Dark Lord merely nodded, indicating he needed sustenance.

He knew how and when he would get is body back, but he needed a suitable sacrifice, and there was only two he would consider worthy foes to be such.

Neither would be easy to get to let alone subdue, but once more, the Dark Lord was forming more ideas on just how he might achieve exactly what he needed.