A Promise Kept - Chapter 35 - The Slug

“Good, and again with this one, Mr Potter.”

Croaker placed a muggle padlock in front of him, innocuous in nature, but the magic imbued into it was dangerous and should not be touched. Were he to do so, what remained of his life would be most unpleasant.

“A rotting curse,” he murmured. “Fatal, but not immediately if you can slow down the spreading of it. It can be cured if it is caught quickly enough, but so few know of the counter curse.”

“Very good,” Croaker praised. “What else do you sense?”

“A slight compulsion. Not enough to effect those with a strong will. It is subtle by design, barely discernible, but it is there.”

Croaker nodded and patted him on the shoulder.

“You would make a fine curse breaker, Mr Potter, with a little training, of course. Much of the job relies on being able to detect even the most subtle of present magicks, and you can already do so exceptionally well.”

“Do you have teams of curse breakers here?”

Croaker chuckled.

“Mr Potter, I cannot tell you anything of anyone works here. You have already seen much more than we would allow any outsider to.”

“So, you do,” Harry replied with a grin.

Croaker hummed before waving him off.

“Perhaps you will find out for yourself. For now, I will look over your results, and we will discuss them later. Here. Think of this as something of a welcome gift.”

He placed a small, wooden falcon in front of Harry, who looked towards the Unspeakable.

“You are good at hiding your thoughts, Mr Potter, but concealing your magic is a skill you have yet to perfect. There is much to learn from someone from the nature of their magic, where they have been, what they have done, and even what they are capable of, to an extent. A full Animagus transformation at your age is an incredible feat.”

In truth, Harry was more than a little taken aback by the revelation, and he tentatively picked up the small, wooden ornament.

“A portkey.”

“Not just a portkey, Mr Potter. An incredibly efficient portkey that I am sure you will get much use out of. It will bring you directly here to my study, and it can be changed to take you just about wherever you need to be, so long as you know the coordinates.”

“Coordinates?”

Harry could almost feel the man’s grin from beneath his hood.

“Best get yourself a useful collection of maps, Mr Potter. Oh, and do be careful. There are still some places you cannot hope to arrive in safely, even with that.”

The portkey itself had proven to be quite the exceptional gift, and one Harry intended to keep with him at all times. It would certainly prove to be a useful addition to his items he never went without.

Not that he’d used it much before returning home to the ranch.

It had been a little more than a couple of weeks since the school year had ended, and Harry had kept himself busy completing the last of his assignments, keeping up with his training, and writing to each of his friends.

Even Gabrielle was writing a little more frequently now since February.

Despite being occupied, his lack of enthusiasm for returning home had been well-found. He’d done his utmost to put the contents of the prophecy out of his mind, but it had not been easy to do so.

Whenever he looked at his mother, he could not help but feel a sense of betrayal from the woman.

It was ridiculous, and Harry knew it, but even now with Voldemort somehow back from whatever he’d been, she’d made no attempt to discuss it with him.

He understood.

She was a mother who thought she was doing the right thing to protect him, to preserve what innocence remained from all he’d endured over the years.

What she failed to understand is that Harry did not want protection from the truth. Hiding it from him would not change it, nor the outcome of what would inevitably come to pass between him and Voldemort.

He supposed he was just hurt by her inability to be forthcoming with, though he did wonder if she would ever willingly share what she knew with him.

Perhaps she would, though that day would not come any time soon.

“I know, Fawkes. I’m here when you’re ready.”

The phoenix had stayed close by but had yet to come to Harry. He would when he was ready. In the meantime, there was still much to do, and Harry finished his length of the pond before stepping out of it into the blistering heat.

With a wave of his wand, he dried himself off before sitting down and sorting through his latest stack of letters he’d received.

So far, he’d heard nothing from Croaker, but the others had written to him, even Hermione, who’d given him a detailed breakdown of what had transpired during the third task.

She, along with the others that had witnessed it, had been traumatised by the ordeal, and Harry suspected there might just be some students that would not be returning to Hogwarts come September.

He smiled as he picked up the next letter on the pile after reading Wendell’s description of an excursion he was on with his father, tracking a creature he’d never heard of.

The scrawl on this missive was neater and even carried the scent of the sender.

Harry,

I do hope you are keeping yourself out of trouble.

I have my doubts. Without me to keep you in line, I shudder to think what problems you are causing.

Today, I took Bruce out for a four-hour hack through the estate. It was nice to get out of the house for a while. I even managed to get a little climbing in.

I never asked, do you have any creatures of your own?

Write back soon,

Sabine Eloise Van Droombeeld

He chuckled at the use of her full name and shook his head as he looked towards where the griffins were gathered only a short distance away.

Did he have any creatures of his own?

Not truly.

Each of them were free to leave if they so wished, but they chose to remain here, even Norbert, who would seek him out when he was home.

Harry was still wary of the dragon, more so now with how big he had grown. Not that Norbert had ever shown any aggression towards him. If anything, he reminded Harry of an enormous dog.

Often, Norbert would bring him bones and even liked the scales on his belly scratched whilst he basked in the sun.

It was an odd relationship he shared, and seemingly only between the two of them.

The dragon was rather shy when it came to others, and if they ventured a little too close to his cave, he would chase them away. He had done so to Sirius on numerous occasions.

Still, Harry would not push his luck.

Norbert could kill him with little effort on his part if he so chose to. Despite being hatched by Hagrid, and living with humans his entire life, he was still a wild beast that could cause significant harm to many before he was stopped.

Not that he ever showed any sign of doing so.

The dragon was content with his lot.

“Do I have any creatures,” Harry snorted as he began penning his reply.

How did he even begin answering that?

Sabine would likely find the griffins and even Norbert interesting, but the latter would certainly take some explaining and would become quite the problem if her father was to learn of it.

No, it was something best not shared between them.

He enjoyed her company, perhaps a little too much if truth be told, but he’d not lost sight of what would eventually come. In just a few years, she would be married off to the Winthrop boy, and Harry would be going to war.

Maybe his time would even come sooner than her own misfortune.

It was a maudlin thought, but not something that could be ignored, after all.

Voldemort would come looking for him, and from what Harry knew of the Dark Lord, the man tended to find a way of getting what he wanted.

He released a deep sigh as he caught sight of the final note; the one he’d been waiting for since he’d last taken his leave of the Department of Mysteries.

Friday

CC

In an impressive display, the small piece of parchment turned into a falcon before exploding into a shower of ash, which was carried away by the gentle breeze.

“Friday,” Harry murmured.

(Break)

It was uncomfortable being hunched over as she navigated her way through the shelves of Honeydukes, and Lily hoped that this was not a glimpse into her future.

She had taken the hair from a passing, elderly muggle woman in Surrey, before she’d taken the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade, where she hoped her efforts would prove to be fruitful.

“Sorry, excuse me, dear,” a man muttered as he bumped into her, providing the perfect moment to complete the first part of her plan.

“No, it is quite alright,” she replied with a toothless smile, patting him on the shoulder before continuing on her way towards the counter.

She vividly remembered the last time she was here.

James had brought her along to buy some her favourite chocolates shortly before their wedding, and Lily smiled at the memory of him blowing enormous bubbles after shoving an entire packet of Drooble’s into his mouth.

He’d complained about his jaw aching for days after, but he’d never stopped with his antics.

Even the very morning he’d been killed, he’d let loose dozens of chocolates frogs in the house so that the giggling Harry could hunt them down.

Despite her irritation at the time of finding melted chocolate all over the furniture, it was now one of her favourite memories.

She smiled sadly and fought the urge to laugh at the image of her son doing his best to catch them. Harry had not been quick enough to catch them, until one of the frogs had come within arms-length of him, and he’d snatched it out of the air.

“He’ll be a bloody Seeker!” James had declared proudly.

If only things would’ve turned out different, then maybe Harry and James would’ve bonded over the sport the man had loved.

Before she could dwell on the possibility, however, Lily was pulled from her thoughts by the sudden commotion happening on the other side of the shop, and the man working the till hurried over, leaving her path clear.

Hurriedly, she flicked through the book on the counter, her eyes scanning each page of orders from the past couple of weeks.

Horace may have gone into hiding, but he would not do so without access to his favourite confection, and he’d said many times throughout the time she’d known him that none made better crystalised pineapple than Honeydukes.

“Glover Budge,” she murmured, taking note of the address that the order had been dispatched to.

The man would not use his real name, of course, but the names Glover and Budge were a combination of two famous potioneers. The only other order had been for John Dawlish, a well-known Auror.

The first had to be for Horace.

Crystalised pineapple was not the most popular of confections, and she could think of no other that would purchase five bags at the same time.

With a tap of her wand, the order vanished from the book, and Lily took her leave of the shop, taking only a moment to glance at the chaos she had caused.

The man who’d bumped into her was lying on the ground surrounded by sweet treats, his burned robes having been discarded next to him.

“I can only apologise, sir,” the shopkeeper stammered. “I don’t know what happened.”

Before the man could reply, Lily was gone and left Hogsmeade only a few moments later when she reached the apparation point. Soon enough, the Polyjuice Potion would wear off, much to her relief, and then she would waste no time seeking out the elusive Horace Slughorn, whom she’d not spoken to for more than fifteen years now.

Whether or not she would be welcomed by the man remained to be seen, but Lily was curious as to just why he had gone into hiding so quickly.

Did he have a reason to fear the Dark Lord, or was it merely precautionary?

If it was the former, why was it he believed that Voldemort was behind Dumbledore’s death.

Many things were not adding up, and Lily intended to get to the truth of the matter.

Firstly, however, she needed to find the man, but she was almost certain she all but had.

(Break)

The tip of his cane tapped the flags smartly, matching his purposeful stride as he made his way towards the meeting room. Lucius was in a foul mood, displeased that he had been excluded from the last gathering of the governors, and as he pushed to door open a little harder than necessary so that it banged against the wall, he felt a little satisfaction at seeing his eleven peers jump.

“I do hope you have an explanation for me,” he said dangerously.

“An explanation?” Archibald Boot asked.

“As to why Black was appointed as the new Headmaster of the school!” Lucius hissed.

Boot frowned.

“He is from a prominent family, a pureblood, and has ties to the position through his ancestors. We thought you would agree with our decision, especially as every other member of staff recommended him, even Minerva.”

Lucius knew when he was being mocked, and he fought the urge to draw his wand on the impudent man.

Boot had always been a thorn in his side, the only one among them with a backbone to push back against his suggestions. Eventually, however, he would cave with the rest of them.

Nonetheless, Lucius despised the man and his sarcasm.

“Then we need only address the problem we have,” he urged. “Black is to be removed as the headmaster with immediate effect, and replaced by…”

He turned sharply towards the door as someone cleared their throat behind him, only for his head to snap backwards from the force of the blow that landed on his chin.

When his vision cleared, he found himself looking up at an irate Sirius Black, who did have his wand poised and ready.

“Just give me a reason, Lucius, and I will make my cousin a widow.”

He meant it, but even Black was not stupid enough to truly harm him in front of so many witnesses.

“You would not dare!”

“Oh, I would, but I would not put those here in an awkward position where they would have to describe in detail how I tore you limb from limb in front of the Wizengamot. No, that will not do. Now, you were right when you said we need to address the problem we have. That problem is you, Lucius. As such, the governors held a vote before you arrived. Would you like to know what it pertained to?”

Lucius glowered at the man as he used his cane to push himself to his feet.

Black did not wait for a response, but held out a roll of parchment, sealed with the wax coat of arms of the school.

“You have been ousted, Malfoy. You are no longer a governor of the school. Now, get the fuck out before I change my mind about letting you leave.”

Lucius scowled at the parchment before slapping Black’s hand away.

“This is your final word?” he asked.

“It is,” Boot answered defiantly whilst the others looked away.

“You will all regret this,” Lucius warned before storming from the room, furious, but his mind soon wandered to what the Dark Lord’s reaction would be, and Lucius expected that he would once more fall victim to the Cruciatus Curse.

Still, that was nothing compared to what awaited Black when Lord Voldemort inevitably caught up to him.

He might well enjoy the victory for now, but Lucius would get the last laugh.

Of that, he had no doubt.

(Break)

She ducked beneath the blow aimed at her head and fired off a couple of curses to give herself a little more room to work with, readying herself for the next attack.

It came swiftly, but she blocked it effectively enough and landed one of her own.

Her next attack, however, was caught, and she found herself on her back, her breathing laboured as she looked up at her grinning mother.

“Better,” the woman praised, pulling Sabine to her feet. “It will not be long before you are pulling me to my feet.”

“I doubt that,” Sabine snorted, grimacing from the dull ache in her ribs.

“Oh, it will happen sooner than you think. You are better than I was at your age.”

Sabine shrugged and readily accepted the bottle of water offered to her.

She had been training with her mother for as long as she could remember, here in this very room that had been set aside for it. For a while, it was the only thing they had bonded over, but as Sabine had grown older, she had grown much closer to the woman.

As a Van Droombeeld, she’d always known that she could be a target, that there would be those that would either harm her to harm her father or even kidnap her for ransom.

Oh, he would pay it if only to save face, but it was to be avoided at all costs.

As such, her mother had taken it upon herself to train her over the years.

“The Winthrop boy is much luckier than he deserves.”

Sabine grimaced again, though this time, it wasn’t because of her aches and pains. No, it was the thought of spending her life with the inbred offspring of her father’s friend.

“Don’t look like that,” her mother sighed. “It could be much worse.”

“It could be much better.”

Her mother offered her a sympathetic smile and patted the seat next to her.

“You need to think of the advantages,” she urged. “Yes, the boy is dim, but that just means he will be more pliable. Believe me, it is a much better prospect than finding yourself with an intelligent, and maybe even cruel husband.”

Sabine shrugged.

She’d always known of her lot in life.

Her introduction to the Winthrop boy, well man now, had happened when she was only six years old, and over the years, she had been forced to get to know him.

The very thought of being married to him made her shudder.

No woman should be subjected to that burden.

Sabine understood that she could not have everything she wanted in life, but she’d hoped to at least have some say in who she would spend it with.

She smiled at the thought, and her mother cleared her throat.

“You’re thinking of the Potter boy.”

“I am not!” Sabine denied a little too quickly.

Her mother quirked and eyebrow at her before shaking her head.

“Believe me, I know what it is like being a young woman promised to another. You do not think your father was the first man I loved, do you?”

“He wasn’t?”

“No, and the memories I have are fond, but that is all they ever could be. I am not going to tell you what to do, that would make me a hypocrite. Just be careful. A heart never fully heals when it is broken.”

“I know,” Sabine sighed.

She had thought that her time with Harry would just be some innocent fun, that both of them would simply walk away one day, but already, the thought of doing so did not rest easily with her.

“So, what is he like?” her mother asked eagerly.

Sabine smiled at the question.

“Quiet mostly, brilliant, funny, really sweet, and very frustrating.”

“Frustrating?”

“He has this way of making me feel comfortable around him. I don’t know, I just find it easy, like there are no troubles I need to worry about, even though he always seems to have many.”

“He is famous.”

“He hates that. He doesn’t like being famous, especially for what he is known for.”

“He is quite the enigma, even your father can appreciate his Quodpot talent. I think he might even wish to sign him for the team when he graduates.”

“Fat chance of that happening. I don’t think Harry has any intention of playing for a living. He will return to Britain when we graduate.”

“Where the world will watch closely to see the kind of man he is.”

“Where he will be just as brilliant as I know he is now,” Sabine replied. “I don’t expect anything less from him. Whatever he does, he will be great.”

Once more, her mother quirked an eyebrow at her.

“And that will only make what you have all the more difficult for you,” she said sadly. “If he faded into obscurity, you would not see him in the media. Instead, you will watch his life unfold in front of your eyes. That is not an easy thing to do when you are not a part of it.”

“Is that the same for you?”

Her mother nodded as she stood.

“It is, and I would not wish for you to live with the same pain I do. It was different for me. I did not expect the man I loved to become someone so prominent, but I should’ve known better. He too was a brilliant boy, and now a brilliant man.”

“Who was it?”

“That, my child, is none of your business,” her mother said with a grin as she left outbuilding.

Sabine had never known.

There had never been any indication her mother had ever been with anyone else other than her father, and evidently, after all these years, it still weighed heavily on her.

Maybe she too would feel that same weight, and yet, she had no regret Perhaps one day the pain would overshadow the joy she felt when she was with Harry.

That would be something she would need to live with, and she would do so with those happy memories when her life undoubtedly took a turn in a direction she knew she would it did not.

(Break)

The city of Lancaster was a beautiful, smaller city, but it was not the scenery that brought Lily here. No, having apparated into a quiet park only a short distance from the address she’d found in the ledger at Honeydukes, she hurriedly made her way to the nearby street.

“Twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty-six, twenty-eight…”

She came to a halt outside number thirty, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach at the sight of the door that had been blown off the hinges and drew her wand.

Carefully, she made her way up the short garden path, pausing briefly before crossing the threshold into the home.

Blood had spattered the walls, and there had evidently been quite the struggle.

Much of the furniture was broken, but it was the magic saturating the air that caught her attention.

It reeked of violence, of confrontation, and yet, beneath that was a hint of something else.

Deception.

With a frown, she continued her investigation, murmuring under her breath as she cast a few charms.

“Hello, Horace,” she sighed in relief, nudging the armchair with her foot.

Most would’ve been fooled, and it wasn’t even the untouched furniture that had led her to the man. She watched in fascination as Horace Slughorn appeared in front of her, breathing heavily with a sheen of perspiration on his brow.

“Miss Evans, how did you find me?”

“Well, I found your order at Honeydukes, and the dragon blood gave you away. You used too much of it.”

“You were always too brilliant for your own good,” the rotund man grumbled. “What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you see, when I heard of Albus’s death, I thought it best to lie low for a while,” he replied uncomfortably.

Lily hummed.

There was much more to his answer, but she knew Horace well enough to know that she would not be able to coax anything from him that he wasn’t ready to reveal.

“Your turn,” he chuckled nervously.

“I have come to ask you to return to Hogwarts.”

Horace frowned.

“Severus…”

“Has left his post.”

Horace swallowed deeply at the revelation and shook his head.

“No, I do not think it would be wise. Albus…”

He broke off and wiped away an errant tear.

“I know, Horace, but the castle needs you. Even if it just for a year or two. You will be safer there than on the run.”

“Now, what would I be running from, Miss Evans?” Slughorn chuckled, his gaze flitting towards the window.

“I am no longer a foolish girl you can brush off with platitudes or deception, Horace,” Lily pointed out. “Your reasons are your own. I am only here to ask for your help.”

“Out of the question. I have no desire…”

He broke off once more, and Lily immediately understood why. She too had felt the disturbance around them, the indication that others had arrived in her wake.

“Were you followed?”

“No, I was very careful.”

“Not careful enough.”

“Calm down, Horace,” Lily huffed, approaching the window.

She could see nothing, but there was someone else here. No, there was more than one.

“There’s two of them,” she murmured to herself, pondering what to do.

She felt the protections to prevent apparation or portkeys falling into place, so, any notion of running was now out of the question.

What did irk her, however, was just how she had been followed here.

She had taken four different detours before arriving and left no trace of herself behind. Something was wrong but now was not the time to ponder it further. Her priority was getting out of here, and the only way to do that was getting outside of the protections.

She placed a finger to her lips as she stepped towards the doorway, readying herself to strike.

For all of his talent and knowledge, Horace Slughorn was certainly not a fighting man, and just the thought of it had left him a trembling mess.

Lily, however, had experienced her fair share of combat during the last war, and it wasn’t as though she had been idle all this time since.

“What the bloody hell happened here?”

The voice was familiar, but Lily could not put a name to it.

“Careful. It could be trap.”

“Does it look like a trap? Someone beat us to it!”

Before the second man could offer a response, Lily made her move, pulling the rug from beneath their feet as they stepped into the house, and following it up with a rather unpleasant but useful curse she’d picked up.

The fire that engulfed the two masked men was not easily extinguished, but it if it was not done so quickly, it could be lethal. Regardless, it would give her the needed time to get Horace out of here, and somewhere safe.

“Come on!” she urged, taking the shocked man by the arm and all but dragging him out of the back of the house.

Charging forward, she used her wand to sweep the muggle fences aside so that they would not be hindered as they raced towards where the protections would end.

Fortunately, they were not being pursued, but she did not allow Horace to slow down, despite his wheezing in protest, not until they were clear of anything that would hinder them.

As she felt the magic fade away, she apparated, and did so three more times before Horace dropped to the ground from exhaustion.

“Never again,” he groaned.

Lily watched as the man did his utmost to catch his breath.

It wasn’t only the physical exertion of the moment that left him in such a state, the man was fearful for his life, and she was determined to find out why.

For now, however, they needed to keep moving to somewhere safe, somewhere she knew they could not be followed.

(Break)

“Your results are most interesting, Mr Potter,” Croaker commented as he consulted the pile of parchment, notes he had taken on Harry’s performance during the several tests he’d completed. “Your wand work is exceptional, your ability to detect magic and negate it, equally so. There is still much for you to work on, but I am impressed.”

Harry said nothing as the man continued to read through the parchment.

“Yes, we could certainly make use of your talents, and I am certain you would benefit from our resources. I propose that, when the time is right for you, you dedicate yourself to a five-year contract. You will be able to choose from a variety of pursuits, which I think you will find very much to your liking.”

“And in return?”

“The department will assist you in developing the skills you will need to fulfil the prophecy. Of course, it is implied that your life will be in your own hands, but, we can certainly make your fight that little bit easier.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

He could not deny that he was intrigued by the inner workings of the Department of Mysteries beyond what little of it he had seen, and Croaker was certainly a most interesting wizard, a little madder than most, but a curious man, nonetheless.

“You have a deal,” he replied, offering his hand.

It was accepted immediately.

“Then let us waste no time. I think we should begin with a tour. There is much to show you, Mr Potter.”

“Should I not sign a contract first?” Harry asked confusedly.

Croaker chuckled.

“No need, Mr Potter. Your employment has not yet commenced, and if your intention had been unclear, we would not be having this conversation.”

“What would’ve happened?”

“Nothing pleasant,” Croaker answered amusedly. “Ah, this is our first place of interest. This is where we study…”

“Time,” Harry whispered.

He’d seen pictures of time-turners but had never seen one in person.

“Correct,” Croaker confirmed.

“One of these would be useful.”

“But not as useful as spending the time you have wisely. Terrible things can happen to those who meddle with these. I have witnessed a few most unpleasant incidents. No, one of these will be of little use when you can only travel back a few days, and if it is done too often in a short period, it can make you rather unwell.”

“Is a few days the most that has been achieved?”

“Safely,” Croaker answered. “There have been whispers of men who have managed much greater feats, even as many as six decades, but they are unsubstantiated claims.”

“That could be useful,” Harry mused aloud. “Pop back in time, throttle Tom Riddle in his cot, and that’s job done.”

“Ah, if only such things were so simple.”

“If only,” Harry agreed.

“Best not dwell on what could’ve been, Mr Potter. Come along, there are a few other rooms I wish to show you.”

Harry followed once more, and found himself in a very strange room full of things he could not even begin to understand.

“I probably would not touch that if I were you,” Croaker warned, nodding towards the odd brain floating in what appeared to be a viscous water.

“I have no intention to.”

He didn’t.

It had caught his attention because of the magic radiating from it. It was not so dissimilar to what practicing Legilimency felt like, and he could only wonder what it was capable of.

“It steals memories,” Croaker explained, “an experiment gone wrong, but one we are learning much from. No, what I think will interest you is in my study.”

“And you’re not ready to show me much else.”

“Very astute, Mr Potter.”

They passed through another few doors before finding themselves back within Croaker’s study, and Harry watched as the man began removing shrunken trunks from within his robes.

“These are items that I have gathered from across the world over the years,” he explained. “Some are dangerous, others are valuable, and many, I have not been able to figure out exactly what they are.”

“Unspeakables work outside of the department?”

“We may or may not have field operatives.”

“Like magical archaeologists?”

“I suppose if such people did exist, then yes.”

“But there is more to it than that.”

“Perhaps,” Croaker replied amusedly as he resized the trunks.

There were four in all, each large enough to hold many things.

Croaker opened the lids, and Harry recoiled at the sudden influx of different magics that filled the room, some somewhat familiar, and others entirely new sensations.

Much of what he was experiencing was old, much older than anything else he had encountered, but there was one thing he could not ignore, something so strangely and intimately calling to him.

Tentatively, he approached one of the trunks and removed a seemingly inane dagger.

“Ah, now that is an interesting find,” Croaker spoke. “I found that in Wales in an abandoned cabin by a river after the protections hiding it fell. It caused quite the stir, but other than rotten, and broken furniture, this was all to be salvaged. As far as I can tell, it is just a blade…”

He broke off as it sunk into Harry’s forearm, vanishing entirely.

With a flick of his wrist, it was back in his hand, and manipulating the magic he could feel within, it split into three.

“Woah,” Harry whispered.

“Indeed, Mr Potter. How very fascinating.”

“You didn’t know it could do that?”

“I did not,” Croaker confirmed. “To me, it has only ever been a dagger. I wonder…”

“What is it?”

“Well, your family has its roots in Wales. I am wondering if it perhaps once belonged to an ancestor of yours, and the magic within is tied to your blood.”

Harry frowned at the dagger thoughtfully.

The magic was familiar to him, but it wasn’t like the cloak or anything else he owned. Even so, it was there, something kindred that allowed him to feel what made the dagger what it was.

It was beautifully crafted.

The handle was gold and the eyes of the crow were emeralds, not so differently coloured from his own.

“It was not made by one of my ancestors, not a Potter, at least, but was made for one of them.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I can’t, but that is what the magic feels like.”

Croaked hummed as he eyed the dagger thoughtfully.

“That could be quite the useful tool for you, Mr Potter. The day might come you have need of it.”

Harry nodded.

He had so many questions about the dagger, but before he could ask any of them, a burst of fire announced the arrival of a piece of parchment; one had had been waiting for.

“Ah, Fawkes,” Croaker sighed. “He would often bring me notes from Albus. I am pleased to see he is faring as well as he is. I expect he is quite lost without him.”

“He is,” Harry agreed, “but he is doing better. He wants me to find him.”

“To find him?”

“I received a note from Albus around a week ago now. He says he left some things with Fawkes to help me.”

“And now is the time for you to receive them.”

“It is,” Harry murmured as he pocketed the note.

“You know where it is you must go.”

“Where it all began. Home.”