A Promise Kept - Chapter 46 - Departures and Arrivals

Departures and Arrivals

He watched as his godfather paced back and forth in front of the kitchen table with a deep scowl marring his features. It was often he saw the man quite beside himself with anger, and though he seemed to be doing his utmost to keep his temper in check, he was failing quite miserably.

“It is just a nominal position.”

“That’s not the point,” Sirius huffed irritably. “She has no business being in the school at all. What the hell was the Department for Magical Education thinking? The Ministry of magic does not need a liaison officer, and certainly not that vicious little cow!”

“Who?” Harry asked curiously.

“Dolores Jane Umbridge,” Sirius grumbled. “The most odious, bigoted woman you could hope to meet. Over the years since being promoted to Fudge’s primary arse-licker, she’s used her position to attempt to push through legislation limiting the rights of muggleborns, and creatures. She’s… she’s… a twat!”

“Sirius Black!”

Harry snorted amusedly at his godfather’s antics, but his mother was not so impressed with his choice of language.

“What is a twat?” he mused aloud curiously.

“Harry James Potter! You certainly will not use that language at this table!”

“What if I stand up?”

His mother levelled a glare at him, but he did not miss the quirking of her lips.

“You know, as the Headmaster, you could just make her job as difficult as possible,” Harry suggested. “I think this is one of those times you should consider being more like Dumbledore, or, you could just throw her down a flight of stairs,” he finished with a shrug. “Wait, I know a useful pair who could provide you with an unlimited supply of problems for her to overcome.”

“If you are referring to the Weasley twins, you have done more than enough. Molly is furious that they somehow raised the capital to open their shop,” Lily said pointedly.

“It’s nothing to do with me,” Harry denied. “Where would I get that kind of gold?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at him.

“Harry Potter, do not think that I was born yesterday. I know the two of you had a hand in it. Why else would they be marketing a product named the Potter Poo-Flinger?”

Sirius failed to fight back his snort of laughter.

“Genius,” he declared with a grin. “I would’ve preferred Shit-Slinger, but…”

Lily shook her head.

“As unpleasant as she is, you will not be hurling dung at Umbridge. You are the Headmaster, Sirius. You should probably act like it, and you should know better than to encourage him,” she added to Harry.

He shook his head.

“Why would you want to be Headmaster if you can’t  throw some chunks of shit at people you don’t want in the school?”

“Because if you could do that, Hogwarts would be mostly empty,” Sirius muttered, shifting his attention towards the window as an owl tapped on the glass.

“Must be my OWL results.”

He admitted the bird, who smartly presented its leg, and left when it had been relieved of its missive.

With it gone, Harry opened the envelope that was indeed addressed to him, and removed the slip of parchment within.

With a satisfied nod, he handed the letter to his mother, who beamed proudly.

“Eight OWLs at O,” she announced.

“Did you really doubt him?” Sirius chuckled, clapping Harry smartly on the shoulder.

“Of course not!”

Sirius grinned at the woman.

“I’m proud of you, Harry. This calls for a celebration. What would you like to do?”

Although he’d been pleased with his results, Harry didn’t feel much like celebrating.

His time in the cave had certainly left an impression on him of what it was he was facing, and it did not help that he’d felt the need to return only a few days later.

Slughorn had taken his leave of the castle, had been unavailable for the duration of the summer, and Harry needed to ensure that his presence had not been noted.

Fortunately, and much to his relief, the dead within the cavern had seemingly returned to the depths, calmed by the presence of either the Horcrux or the unpleasant brew Harry had taken a sample of.

He had considered asking his mother about it, but that would likely only raise a slew of questions he was not ready to answer.

No, Slughorn would be back at Hogwarts now, and Harry would insist upon speaking with the man, who seemed to have been avoiding him intentionally, just as he was with some of his own prevailing thoughts.

Harry did not doubt that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made a bold move. He didn’t know how or what it was he would do, but he could feel it in every fibre of his being.

Something was brewing, and with the Ministry ignorant of what was unfolding around them, and the Order being comprised of what it was, it would end most terribly.

Worse still, Harry did not know what to do.

He had his thoughts, his own ideas, and he knew much of what lay ahead of him, but as with everything when it came to Tom Riddle, the man may be habitual in many ways, but almost impossible to predict what he would do and when.

Here, Harry was merely an observer to it, and the longer he waited for the inevitable eruption of violence, the more he came to realise that he was perhaps not where he was needed most.

Two more years.

He had only two more years of school to finish, and yet, he knew that deep down he did not have that much time.

Stepping out of the carriage with the rest of the group, he looked towards the castle fondly.

Ilvermorny had given him his first taste of freedom, had allowed him to flourish in all he had chosen to pursue, but Harry could feel the road here coming to an end, sooner rather than later.

He smiled sadly at the thought.

The memories he’d made along with the friends would stay with him throughout the next leg of his journey, and though he did not wish to leave before his time was up, it was as inevitable as the war he found himself embroiled in.

“Potter?”

He turned towards the girl that had greeted him, and she offered him an apologetic smile along with a sealed envelope.

Opening it, he felt his already sombre mood worsen at the sight of the enclosed photographs of him and Sabine spending some time together shortly after the final Quodpot match of the previous year.

Attached was note in the girl’s familiar handwriting, and he did not miss that the parchment was still wet from the tears that had fallen on it.

Harry,

My father received these photos during the summer, and let’s just say he was not thrilled by them.

He has made it very clear that us seeing each other will not be tolerated any further, so, for both of our sakes, what we have must come to an end.

Believe me, this is not what I wanted, and were things different, maybe in another life, things could’ve found a way for us. I wanted to say all of this to you in person, but I know that my every move is being watched.

I’m sorry, you deserve better than a letter and what you might think to be poor excuses, even if we both knew that this day would come.

Thank you, Harry Potter, for everything.

You gave me something I will only experience once, and for that, I have no regrets and will always be grateful.

Love Always,

Sabine

 “What is it?” Wendell asked.

“Nothing that wasn’t going to happen eventually,” Harry sighed. “Thank you,” he said to the girl, who offered him a final nod before departing.

“Harry?” Wendell pressed.

“Later. Come on, we’d best get to the feast.”

He said nothing else on the matter, needing time to process it, and adjust to not seeing Sabine anymore.

Hary had suspected something was amiss when she’d stopped writing to him over the summer, and though he could not deny the heartache he was experiencing, he’d expected nothing less to come from the situation.

Still, in some ways, perhaps this was a good thing.

Sabine had been something of a distraction from time to time, a welcome one, of course, but now, he needed to shift his focus elsewhere, to the whatever fate awaited him on the loneliest of roads he found himself on.

If anything, the latest revelation had made his decision easier than it had been, and though there were those that would undoubtedly not like it, Harry knew his next step, and what needed to be done to finally rid himself of the Dark Lord that hung over him like the greyest of clouds, waiting to unleash a ferocious storm.

Yes, his next move was clear, but he could not help but wonder who it was that had sent those photos to Sabine’s father, let alone who’d managed to take them.

Perhaps he would one day find out the truth, but for now, it didn’t matter.

He could do nothing to change what had happened, but the same couldn’t be said for what had yet come to pass, after all.

(Break)

“Hem, hem.”

Sirius glared at the woman as she cleared her throat, interrupting him whilst he was giving his welcome speech to the students.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” she said with a sickly smile as she approached the podium. “Now, what Headmaster Black isn’t telling you…”

“Is that Madam Umbridge is here only to observe lessons. She is not to interfere in any capacity, and she will respect the boundaries of her role. That includes not interrupting me when I am talking or addressing the students without my permission. Now, sit down.”

“I think the students should know that I am here to…”

“Do nothing where they are concerned,” Sirius cut in once more. “You have absolutely no business interacting with the students, nor the staff beyond asking them questions pertaining to their lessons. Make no mistake, Madam Umbridge, I will be watching your every move whilst you are in the castle, and if you step out of line even once, I will personally remove you from Hogwarts.”

The students watched the back and forth between them in silence, and the mask of false kindness Umbridge wore fell.

“The Minister…”

“Has no power here, as I explained to Fudge almost four years ago when he tried to stick his nose in. Hogwarts is not the Ministry of Magic, Madam Umbridge, and you would do well to remember that. Now, if you are done, I am not finished. You will take your seat, or I will have you escorted from the hall.”

She glared at him but thought better of pushing her luck.

Sirius Black was not Albus Dumbledore. He would not hide his disdain for the woman beneath a veneer of benevolence, not when he saw no reason to.

Fudge, or whoever’s stupid idea this was would get nothing from this venture. The Department of Magical Education may have signed off on this with the support of Fudge and the governors, but that didn’t mean Sirius had to tolerate her presence.

He meant what he’d said.

The moment she stepped out of line, he would trample her as though he were a herd of hippogriffs.

“Must she be here?” Minerva sighed.

“For now, but I expect her stay will be short.”

“And what is it you are planning, Headmaster?” the woman asked curiously.

Sirius shrugged.

“I might see fit to observe the very same lessons that she is. I will not leave a single member of staff at her mercy.”

Minerva shook her head.

“You know, you have become a rather frightening man in your own right. You remind me of your grandfather in many ways.”

“I always feared I would grow up to be like him.”

“Well, he was a good man, Sirius. I know that you had your differences, but he only ever wanted what was best for your family.”

Sirius nodded.

“I see that now.”

He did.

When he thought back on all the times he’d been forced to spend time with his father and grandfather whilst the latter attempted to impart his accumulated wisdom upon him, Sirius realised that Arcturus Black was only trying to help him become the man he saw in the mirror now.

A part of him regretted being so resistant to the lessons, but he hoped that somewhere, his grandfather was proud of him.

He would be disgusted with what had become of the Blacks overall, but Sirius was doing his utmost to keep the family prominent, to honour his duties of his position.

“She’ll be gone before Christmas,” he declared. “One way or the other, she’ll be gone, Minerva.”

(Break)

He could scarcely believe that this was now his sixth year of being the Headmaster of Ilvermorny. The time had passed him by so quickly, and yet, Agilbert Fontaine still felt as though he was merely finding his feet.

Each year brought him fresh challenges, fresh successes as he received the grades of his students, and new perspectives when he met with his staff, whom he could do none of this without.

Truthfully, he’d expected to maybe stay in the post for a few years before a more qualified candidate came along. It wasn’t that he believed he was doing a terrible job. On the contrary, those he answered to within MACUSA seemed to be pleased enough, but Agilbert had not been in the teaching field as long as he had spent as an Auror.

Even within the school now, there were those on parchment that were better qualified.

Still, he’d come to love the job, even if it presented its problems from time to time.

“Come in,” he called as a knock sounded at his door. “Ah, Tara, how was your summer?”

“Busy, and no less since the students returned.”

“It’s been two hours,” Agilbert chuckled. “I expect it will only get worse as the homesickness sets in for the first years. How are they faring?”

“As usual,” the woman answered with a grin, “but it is not the new students I wish to discuss with you. Harry Potter is on his way here. He wishes to speak with us.”

Agilbert released a deep sigh, his gaze shifting to the door once more as another knock sounded.

“Come in, Mr Potter.”

The who entered was a far cry from the diminutive first year that had arrived here six years prior.

He was on the cusp of manhood now, tall, lithely built, with a strength to him that he often demonstrated on the Quodpot field. Pinned to his robes was the Prefect and Captaincy badge he had earned, and Agilbert did not believe he was ever likely to meet such a young man again.

“Professor, Headmaster,” he greeted them.

There was an edge to his voice, and even his eyes.

They had always lacked the same youthful innocence as his peers, but now, it was more prominent. Somehow, it suited him. It gave him something of a presence. Not that he didn’t have one without it.

Harry Potter was now and would be one of those men that walked into a room, and people would immediately take note of.

“I expect you’ve already heard it from your mother and Sirius, but congratulations on your incredible OWL results, Harry. The Head of the Department of Education has been singing your praises all summer.”

The boy nodded and offered him an appreciative smile.

“That is sort of why I am here,” he sighed. “I would like to see if it possible to sit my NEWTs this year. With everything happening back home, it is unlikely that I will be returning for my seventh. I will be seventeen in July, and, well…”

Agilbert looked towards Tara, whose demeanour had shifted to something much less comfortable.

“Is it truly so bad?” he asked.

“Azkaban was bad enough, and that is only the beginning. It is going to get much worse, and I need to be there.”

War.

Fortunately, Agilbert had never lived through such horror.

He’d heard the stories from the veteran Aurors of their time in Europe during the Grindelwald years, and each of them had that same, ominous presence about them as Harry Potter.

They had been hard men, hardened by the damndest of experiences, just like the boy before him.

“I understand,” Agilbert sympathised, “and I do not see it being an issue. You are certainly more than capable. Tara?”

The woman nodded and looked towards the boy sadly.

Despite his penchant for mischief, and his cheek she’d grown rather fond of him.

Agilbert could see that she wished to deny the request, that she hoped in doing so she could protect him from himself, and whatever it was waiting for him back in Britain.

Not that her protestation would prevent it.

No, Harry Potter would do what he believed was right, regardless of whether or not he was allowed to sit his final exams this year. Tara knew it too, and though it was with reluctance she nodded.

“You’ll ace them,” she murmured.

Potter nodded appreciatively as he stood and offered his hand.

“Thank you, Headmaster. My mother would’ve been quite furious if I was to leave without them.”

The door closed gently behind the boy as he exited the office.

“Are we doing the right thing?” Tara asked.

“We are,” Agilbert assured her. “Unfortunately for Mr Potter, he was put here to either become a martyr of someone else’s doing or rise like a phoenix from the ashes. I have met men like him.”

“What do you think, Agilbert?”

He shook his head.

“Some lived well, others died terribly. I cannot help but think that Mr Potter will be one of those men spoken of for generations to come, no matter what happens.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because I have no answer for you, Tara. What I do know is that Harry is perhaps the most gifted wizard I have met, and if there is anyone that can be what Britain will need, it is him.”

Tara smiled and nodded.

“Me too,” she murmured.

(Break)

He did his utmost not to shudder as the Dark Lord walked around him in a circle. Draco had not expected to meet with the man himself so soon, but Lord Voldemort had insisted upon his presence.

“You remind me of your father, Draco. He was not much older than yourself when he became one of my followers. I must admit, I had my doubts about him. He was rich, young, and had the world in his hands, and yet, he proved to be a most loyal man I came to rely on.”

“He has always spoken highly of you, my lord.”

He chuckled in response.

“Indeed. Now, I have a task for you. Nothing so troubling, I assure you, but I have need of someone in Hogwarts, eyes and ears that can keep me abreast of what is happening in the castle. Can I rely on you as I have your father?”

“Of course, my lord.”

It wasn’t as though he could refuse even if he wished to, but Draco had no desire to deny the man.

No, not only would it be unwise to do so, but he also wished to help where he could, especially if it meant seeing the back of Sirius Black as the Headmaster.

Dumbledore had been bad enough, but Black was not so easily appeased with apologies and simple overtures. No, he was a blood traitor to the very core and occupied a position that Draco had been primed for since he’d been a babe. Being the Lord Malfoy and Black would’ve made him all but untouchable, almost king-like among those that would one day be his peers. Yet, somehow, despite being expelled from the family, it was Sirius who wore the lordship ring, who was able to squander the family, and who took advantage of the reputation cultivated by better men than him.

If Black was to die, then Potter was in line to succeed him; an irrelevant obstacle in Draco’s way, as he would soon die at the hands of the Dark Lord.

The thought brought a smirk to his lips.

Neither would survive the war, and Draco would assume both positions he coveted, but not before serving a lengthy tenure alongside his father.

The two of them would hope Britain in the political field, and there was not a single person that could hope to stop them.

For now, however, he needed to be subtle, listen for anything worthy of passing onto the Dark Lord, and soon enough, he would be rid of Sirius Black once and for all.

(Break)

He hadn’t expected it to hurt as much as it did.

In a way, it felt as though he’d been rejected, that he wasn’t god enough, even though harry knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. Nonetheless, although he’d known this day would come, and he thought he was prepared for the eventuality, he hadn’t been.

Maybe he’d thought that with him and Sabine being so aware, neither would develop such strong feelings for one another.

He’d caught a glimpse of her in the Great Hall, and she’d appeared to be just as miserable as he felt.

Not that, in a way, Harry knew this was something of a blessing in disguise, even if it didn’t feel that way.

With all that was to come, the last thing he needed was for Sabine to be worried about him, to be wondering if she would see the headline announcing his death in the newspaper.

He shook his head of those thoughts, and once more did his best to ignore the pang in his chest as he looked upon the foreboding structure before him.

It had been over a year since Dumbledore had been murdered, and almost a year since he’d spoken with Bathilda Bagshot where he had learned some of the most surprising things.

He vividly remembered the photograph of a young Albus and the man with his arm over his shoulder, both beaming, unaware of what the future held for them.

Harry knew enough about Grindelwald’s war that he did not doubt there would be those who’d storm Nurmengard to kill the former Dark Lord if they knew of his continued existence.

Harry, however, could not relate.

Grindelwald had never done anything to him, and he did not know enough of the conflict his grandfather had found himself in with the man. Perhaps he would become privy to it shortly, but in truth, Harry was here for one reason only.

He’d thought about venturing here these past months, and he could not deny that it was his own broken heart that had finally pushed him to do so.

Grindelwald may be a monster, but he deserved to know of Albus’s fate, if of course, he didn’t already.

“Oh, no dear, I have not seen or written to Gellert in many years, not since before the war on the continent. He is still my blood, but I have never been able to reconcile with what he did.”

That had been Bathilda’s final words on her nephew, and outside of her, Harry was certain no one else knew Grindelwald yet lived.

Releasing a deep breath, he enveloped himself in his cloak, hoping that it would be enough to bypass whatever protective measures were in place before crossing the threshold, frowning at the silence surrounding him.

There were no guards, and none of the other cells were occupied.

He even began to wonder if Grindelwald was here at all, but as he reached the top level of the prison the man himself had built, he could sense the presence of another nearby.

Reaching the only cell that housed someone, he took a moment to look upon the occupant, and found it difficult to imagine the elderly, frail man within being one of the most dangerous and powerful wizards in recent history.

“Who’s there? Albus, is that you?”

The man’s voice was hoarse, and his skin wrinkled, but his eyes retained an alertness and even exuded some of the power he once wielded. Now, however, Gellert Grindelwald was seemingly little more than a shadow of the man he’d been, and as Harry removed his cloak, those icy blue, almost milky eyes widened.

For a moment, neither spoke, and Grindelwald laughed.

“For a moment, I thought I had finally lost my mind. You look much like him, but different at the same time. You are a Potter though. There is no denying that.”

“I am,” Harry confirmed. “Harry Potter, grandson of Charlus.”

“Ah, and you have come to kill me.”

“No.”

“No? Then what brings you here?”

“Dumbledore is dead.”

Grindelwald frowned as he stood from the wooden chair he’d been seated in.

“Dead?”

Harry nodded.

“Murdered.”

Grindelwald cursed in a language Harry did not understand, and he began pacing back and forth, trying to process what he’d just learned.

“By whom?”

“Voldemort.”

Grindelwald’s nostrils flared.

“Albus mentioned him to me. He said he wasn’t dead, that when he came for you, he experienced just a setback. You boy, you are a curious one.”

“Aren’t you upset about him?”

“I will mourn for Albus,” Grindelwald murmured. “I have the rest of my days to do so. For now, I have a new visitor. I have seen no other since I was locked away. Tell me, boy, are you as tough as your grandfather?”

Harry shrugged.

“I never met him.”

“Now, that is a shame. I despised Charlus Potter, but I will not deny that he was a worthy foe. Yes, I can see it in your eyes. You are a fighter, much like him, a killer, and a monster in your own right,” he finished with a grin.

Harry nodded.

“I’ll have to be to survive him.”

“You will,” Grindelwald sighed. “Albus was not like us in that way. No, he always wished to see the very best in people or believed that they could be redeemed. Not being like us, he could not understand that sometimes, the nature of man is not to seek peace or betterment of others. There are men who, like me thrive in chaos. Where do you thrive, Harry Potter?”

Harry did not know how to answer that.

He thrived on the back of a broom, in most magicks he chose to study, but he could not deny that the most he’d ever felt truly alive was when he was duelling. He loved the inherent risk, the competition, and the more danger there appeared to be, the better he thrived.

“You do not need to answer it, not to me, at least. So long as you can be honest with yourself and your desires, that is what matters.”

“You’re not what I was expecting.”

Grindelwald chuckled hoarsely.

“You expected an incoherent psychopath that you could not relate to in any way, and now, you are wondering if it makes you just like me. It doesn’t. I did all I did, somewhat for the betterment of the magical world, and was willing to sacrifice the muggles for it. Why is it you do what you do?”

“To live, to protect those I care about.”

“And?” Grindelwald pressed.

“Revenge,” Harry murmured.

“You should never be ashamed of your motivations, boy. Revenge is not always such a bad thing, not if it is in the name of justice, and even self-satisfaction. Albus told me what happened to you, what lay ahead on the path you find yourself on. You will need to be ruthless, unapologetic, and unwavering in all you do.”

Harry nodded.

“It was you he took the wand from, wasn’t it?”

Gellert smiled fondly as Harry removed it from his sleeve.

“Ah, so, you already know what it is. Yes, Albus and I spent much of our time together seeking out the Hallows. The wand came into my possession some years after we parted ways, and I expect was with Albus until it found its way back home to you.”

“Home?”

“With a Peverell. The name may be lost to you, but the blood still runs through your veins. Tell me, do you have any of the others?”

“The cloak. It was passed down to me by my father.”

“Two out of three isn’t a bad thing. How do they feel when you use them?”

“I’ve not used the wand much,” Harry admitted. “It is thirsty for blood, but the magic is cold, just as it is in the cloak. I didn’t notice it until I had the wand.”

“I never felt a coldness,” Grindelwald mused aloud. “Perhaps it is your blood that gives you a stronger bond. Albus suspected the Hallows would only ever truly work in the hands of a Peverell. Perhaps he was right.”

“Wasn’t he always?”

Grindelwald snorted as he nodded.

“Yes, he was,” he said forlornly. “I would ask something of you, Harry Potter. Albus and I, oddly our friendship lasted beyond what happened between us. It was never the same of course, and I despise him for locking me up, but, if there is one thing I can cling to is that one day, you will return to tell me that Voldemort is dead. Can you do that for me?”

“What if I fail?”

Grindelwald shook his head.

“No, failure is not an option for you, Mr Potter. It is not in your nature to fail. I will see you again. I do not doubt that.”

He turned away, and Harry took the dismissal for what it was, taken aback by the interaction he’d shared with the man, and oddly, a little more comforted in what it was he would have to overcome.

It was when he rounded the corner and placed the cloak back over himself that he heard the gentle sobbing as Gellert Grindelwald, feared Dark Lord across Europe and the Americas broke the silence of the very prison he’d built as he allowed himself to mourn for the man he’d once cared about, perhaps even loved.

(Break)

He leaned against the hut expectantly, ignoring the murmuring of the third-year students who made their way towards the large man waiting for them. Sirius gave Hagrid a nod of encouragement.

He was nervous to teach his very first class, more so knowing that Umbridge would inevitably arrive to observe it.

It took little deduction on Sirius’s part to figure out this would be her first stop.

She despised any that even remotely resembled a creature, and only a fool would believe that Hagrid was fully human.

Even so, despite his faith in the man, he’d taken it upon himself to warn him in advance, to urge caution around Dolores Umbridge.

“Something simple, Hagrid. Teach them about Flobberworms or Bowtruckles if you have to. Don’t give her any more reason to be a vile cow.”

Not that Umbridge had any power here to do anything, and it would be over Sirius’s dead body that she was ever granted it.

He knew what Fudge was trying to do, and he would not allow the Ministry to have any further influence within the castle beyond being responsible for examining the students.

He almost grinned as Umbridge did indeed arrive, her step pausing as she realised that he too was present for the lesson.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded to know.

“Observing the lesson,” Sirius answered. “As the Headmaster of the school, it is my prerogative to do so, and I must say, the Ministry has inspired me to pay closer attention to the running of classes here.”

Her nostrils flare, and her cheeks turned a shade of pink.

“You are interfering…”

“You are interfering with the running of the school,” Sirius cut in. “Now, do be quiet. Professor Hagrid is about to begin.”

Umbridge began scratching away furiously with her quill, levelling a glare at him.

Evidently, her years under Fudge’s protection had emboldened the woman far beyond her station. She was a senior member of the man’s cabinet, but that was all.

She had no real power, and Fudge in turn did not have the power to bestow it upon her, especially when it came to Hogwarts.

Still, that would not stop her trying.

Dolores Umbridge’s ego would not allow her to be stymied by anything other than her revered leader, which meant he needed to watch her closely, as he was now.

Wherever she went, he would follow, ensuring her stay here was most uncomfortable.

“Do not distract the students, Dolores,” he insisted as she stepped forward to speak with a group attempting to feed a Bowtruckle.

“I am asking them about their work and experiences here!”

Sirius shook his head.

“You can request a meeting with students outside of their lessons, but they are not mandatory to attend. That is my final word on the matter. You are to observe only.”

She huffed irritably and took a few more notes on her parchment before storming away, and Sirius finally allowed a smile to grace his lips.

“She’ll be gone before Christmas,” he reiterated.

(Break)

It was with nothing short of reluctance that Slughorn had admitted him into his office, and the man seemed nervous, fearful even as Harry took a seat and placed the eerily glowing potion onto his desk.

“I need to know what this is.”

The rotund man frowned as he picked up the vial, drawing his wand and muttering under his breath as he tapped it, levitated it, and turned it to see the brew from every angle.

“A most unpleasant concoction,” he said darkly. “It will make the drinker relive their most unpleasant memories, truly relive them, whilst taking away their physical energy. It is not a permanent effect, but it will last long enough to leave them quite vulnerable for some time. Did you create this?”

Harry could see why Riddle would find it to be useful in the cave. Any who drank it would be in no fit state to fight off the dead, let alone Voldemort if he was to arrive.

Perhaps the removal of the Horcrux would alert him to it, but Harry did not believe so.

No, there was no indication that there were any protections in place to do so, once more demonstrating Tom’s seemingly endless ego.

“No, I found it in a place Tom is sing to protect one of his Horcruxes.”

Silence met his words, and as he looked up, he could see that Horace Slughorn had paled considerably.

“You know about them, don’t you?”

The man swallowed deeply and his lower lip even began to tremble.

“He came to me some years ago when he was a student here. He asked me about them. I thought it was for educational purposes, but it was that very night I realised that Albus had perhaps been right about young Tom Riddle. He tried to hide it from me, but I could se it in his eyes, see why it was he’d become curious about them.”

“What else did he say?” Harry pressed.

Slughorn shook his head.

“I can’t. The shame of it…”

“Is his alone, and not yours. You’re not the first person to be duped by him, Horace. What matters now is fixing your mistake.”

He looked to be almost broken, as though he wished to bury his head in his hands in a bid to avoid the truth, but that was not to be, and he knew it.

With a sad smile, he placed the tip of his wand to his temple and removed a memory. Placing it in an empty vial, he placed a stopped in the top. Staring at it for a moment, he hesitated before handing it to Harry.

“Try not to judge me too harshly. This mistake has haunted me these past five decades, and I hope for nothing more than for it to finally be over.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

“This will bring me one step closer to doing that. Thank you, Horace. You may have just given me what I need to end this war.”