A Promise Kept - Chapter 47 - Giving and Taking

Seven Horcruxes.

Harry understood why Slughorn had held onto what he’d learned of Riddle’s intentions. Truthfully, for those that did not know what the boy would become, it beggared belief that any could bring themselves to create so many Horcruxes, let alone one of the vile things.

He exited the memory, his mind awash with all the impossibilities he faced.

“The diary,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head.

That was the one and only he had in his possession, which begged the question; did Tom Riddle manage to create seven in all?

Of course, one part of the soul was in the body he’d somehow created for himself, and through Dumbledore’s investigations, Harry was certain of at least another two.

The cup that had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, and the locket that to Salazar Slytherin.

He was unsure about the Gaunt family ring, but he was confident that too had been used to house a fragment of the man’s soul.

Where any of the three were now was anyone’s guess, but the cave undoubtedly contained one, or if Harry was truly fortunate, another object Voldemort had compromised.

He shook his head once more as he removed the notes the former Headmaster of Hogwarts had left him.

“Not the sword of Gryffindor.”

How Albus had dismissed such an artefact he didn’t know, but Harry trusted the man, and his deep underlining of the statement on the parchment.

“The lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. What the bloody hell is a diadem?”

That would be the first thing he needed to figure out, and much to his annoyance, Albus had left only one clue next the object he’d written down.

The Grey Lady

Who that was, Harry did not know. Why could the man not just have given him a name or a location?

He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration.

According to Dumbledore, the diadem, whatever it might be, was lost, and unless Riddle managed to find it after a thousand years of it being absent, that only accounted for one more Horcrux.

Along with the others he was a little more confident in, that made five, which meant two were absent entirely, and even Albus’s allusions to other ominous objects gave him little clarity.

Finding them would be the most difficult task outside of killing Voldemort, and if he were honest with himself, Harry could not deny that he once more felt out of his depth with all of it.

The snow had begun falling heavily the previous week, blanketing the grounds of Ilvermorny in a thick, unyielding blanket that even Sid had given up attempting to clear away.

The first part of the school year had gone by in a blur of studying, attending lessons and training for his last Quodpot season as a student, and listening to the radio for any breaking news of incidents occurring in Britain.

Nothing.

Riddle was continuing to hide in the shadows whilst he consolidated his resources, or, which Harry believed was most likely, planned his next move to take control of Britain.

Worse still, the Dementors were continuing to ravage the country at every turn, and the news trickling in through the Order meetings was not good.

Riddle was recruiting, his followers were still lurking in and around the Department of Mysteries, and yet, nothing of substance could be gleaned outside of Voldemort wanting to possess the prophecy.

Harry released a deep breath.

Either the Dark Lord would need to enter the Ministry of Magic to claim it for himself, or he would need to find a way for Harry to do it on his behalf, which would not happen.

Of course, Riddle would likely know this and would need to find a way to compel.

It was something Harry had given much thought to and had made taken necessary steps to mitigate it as best he could. Still, this was Voldemort, and as he knew himself from experience, the man always found a way to get what he wanted.

It was now Harry’s job to ensure he did not.

“The carriages are here,” Wendell called, knocking on the door to the bathroom he’d slipped into while they waited.

“Coming,” Harry replied, returning what he’d removed from the trunk before shrinking and placing It back in his pocket.

He’d told no one that this was to be his final year of school, not yet, at least.

He didn’t wish for anyone to attempt to talk him out of it, nor spend the last months here with it hanging over his friends. Of course, he would tell them, just not until it was prudent to do so.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it snow so much,” Wendell grumbled, zipping up the thick coat he had donned to venture out into the cold.

“Me either,” Harry chuckled, following suit, and even putting a hat on.

Warming charms were all well and good, but they could wear off in a matter of seconds, leaving the caster experiencing a sudden, unpleasant chill.

“Any plans for Christmas?”

Harry nodded.

“I’ll be continuing a tradition my family upheld until my grandfather died. I’ll be taking food to those who need it back home.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Wendell asked worriedly.

“Well, if old Voldemort decides to turn up, the git can get busy handing out some stuffing and turkey. It might cheer the miserable bastard up. Hell, I’ve even got a nice present for him,” he added, flicking the dagger into his hand.

Wendell shook his head.

“You’re a mad one, Harry,” he sighed. “I don’t even want to know what you plan on doing with that.:

“If the world is kind, I’ll get the chance to shove it right up his clenched arse.”

Wendell snorted amusedly, and Harry returned the blade as they left the entrance hall and entered the courtyard where the others were gathered.

“About time,” Maggie huffed. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Brass monkeys,” Harry agreed.

“Brass monkeys. What does that mean?”

“It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey,” Harry said with a shrug. “It’s a London thing. Sirius uses it sometimes.”

The others looked to be rather confused by the comment, but it made sense in a way.

“Well, instead of letting anyone’s balls freeze off, shall we?” Olivia pressed.

It was no warmer in the carriage, and it only felt that little colder as Harry spotted Sabine entering her own with her group of friends.

Now, she did not even look at him.

Harry did his utmost not to, but more often than he’d like, she somehow found a way to be in his line of sight, reminding of all the times they’d spent together before she was suddenly, simply, out of his life.

The two had not exchanged a word since the beginning of the summer, and he knew that was unlikely to change.

Even so, the pang he felt looking at her had begun to lesson, and though he missed her still, it was no longer so bad.

He certainly had no hard feelings towards her, and soon enough, he wouldn’t have to see her again; a thought that was equally relieving as it was saddening.

“Are you good?” Wendell asked.

Harry nodded.

“I’m good,” he assured his friend, closing the door to the carriage, quite looking forward to getting out of the castle for a while, even if that meant returning to the reality of the brewing war waiting to engulf him.

(Break)

“You must’ve noticed it.”

“I have,” Sirius confirmed. “Believe me, Minerva, nothing has gotten past me. My only question is to what end is he doing it?”

“Information, most likely.”

“For now. That’s how he recruits them, but I do not think this is necessary to bring Draco into the fold. As far as the boy is concerned, Lucius is the best thing to happen to the world since the Dragon Pox vaccine.”

“Don’t all boys think that of their fathers?”

“Not mine. He was a spineless coward to afraid of his wife to do what was right by his sons.”

Minerva shot him a pointed look.

“I know what I am doing with Draco,” he assured her. “I will feed him just enough so that he thinks he is hearing something of use, and maybe he will report back to the Dark Lord with it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Nor I, but it is something we can use to our advantage. Merlin knows we need it.”

Minerva pursed her lips in displeasure, but did not argue the point.

“And what of Dolores?”

Sirius grinned at the thought of the woman.

“Well, I think I might’ve upset her.”

“Upset her?”

He nodded as he placed a stack of parchment on the desk between them, the very same he’d presented to Dolores only the previous day.

“You have purposely hindered me in my job! I have been here since September and only a handful of students have consented to speak with me!”

“Ah, that is a shame,” Sirius sighed. “I had hoped all of them would tell you to stuff it. I must be failing at my job.”

“This is not a joke, Black!”

“That would be Headmaster Black to you, Dolores!”

The woman glared at him, and Sirius offered her a cheery smile, though it fell as she attempted to stand at her full height.

“It is just as I suspected! I did not think Hogwarts could become any worse than it was under Dumbledore. Believe me, Black, the Minister will be hearing of this!”

“Oh, I quite look forward to it, Dolores. Do not worry, I have much to report myself. This is rather damming, is it not?” Sirius asked, handing Umbridge a thick stack of parchment.

“What is this?” she demanded to know.

“A dossier of every single complaint made against you, and of my own observations, every warning I have given you to stay within the remit, and every reprimand since September. You have not heeded my warnings, Dolores, and have attempted to undermine me at every turn.”

Her cheeks flushed before she drew her stubby wand and burned the parchment to cinders.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she said sweetly. “I am here at the request of Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic.”

“Is that so?” Sirius asked amusedly. “According to you upon your arrival, you are here at the behest of the Department of Magical Education. So, which is it, Dolores? Is Fudge crossing a line yet again, or are you lying to me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and quickly schooled her features.

“Of course, I am here to ensure that our children are receiving the very best education, and you, Headmaster Black, are not the right man for this job, and I will prove it.”

She stormed from the office, and Sirius merely shook his head.

She was a little more than a mosquito bothering a lion, but mosquitoes could be dangerous if they were allowed to take hold of their prey.

“Gone by Christmas?” Minerva asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“She’s more stubborn than I thought, but I’ll be rid of her yet. You’ll see.”

Minerva did not seem entirely convinced, but she nodded.

“You know, whenever I doubt you, I remember just how much of a determined oik you were when you were a student here, and it gives me hope that you might just be right. I don’t even think Dolores Umbridge will be able to tolerate your shenanigans for much longer.”

“You flatter me, Minerva.”

“There are times I would prefer to flatten you, Sirius Black.”

He chuckled, though his demeanour shifted as a bell sounded, indicating that he was receiving a floo call.

“Black, I would have a word with you!”

“Ah, Minister, I’ve been expecting you. Are you coming through, or are you just going to huff and puff from the fireplace?”

“Oh, I’m coming through!”

“Best make yourself scarce, Minerva.”

She shook her head.

“I wouldn’t miss this. Besides, someone has to stop you from killing him if you get the urge. I often think Cornelius forgets that you are not Albus.”

“Too right, he isn’t” Phineas Nigellus called. “In my days, the Minister of Magic would not dare come blustering into this office. I would’ve served his arse…”

“We get it, Phineas,” Sirius huffed, standing to greet Fudge as he swept into the office, flanked by Dawlish and a rather self-satisfied Dolores Umbridge.

“I hear that you have been most uncooperative with Dolores’s work here, Black, and I would have an explanation!”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow at the man.

“Well, first of all, Minister, you will re-adjust your tone when you are speaking to me. I am not one of your whipping boys. I am Sirius Orion Black, and you would do well to remember that. Secondly, I have been most cooperative with her work, but have ensured she has stayed within her boundaries, despite her best efforts to flout them.”

“Excuse me?”

“He is lying, Cornelius. I have done no such…”

She broke off as Sirius retrieved the stack of parchment from his desk and handed it to Fudge, her eyes widening when she realised what it was.

“You didn’t think I was foolish enough to only keep one copy, did you?”

Dolores glared at him, and Fudge frowned as he flicked through the many pieces of parchment Sirius had collected.

“She was here to observe lessons only,” he reminded Fudge. “One six occasions, she has attempted to punish students, has attempted to influence Argus Filch into handing out punishments to those that refused her invitation to be interviewed, and has been questioning members of staff regarding their ability to teach. Twice she has been caught attempting to break into my office, and on four occasions, has been accused of harassing students. She has been coercive, threatening, and an outright disturbance since arriving. I want her gone today, or I will be writing to each of the parents of the students she has been hassling to see if they wish to make a formal complaint.”

The Minister was not pleased, and Sirius could see that Dawlish wished to curse him. Not that he needed an excuse.

Even now, his nose sat at a slightly odd angle from when he’d punched the man so many years prior.

“Black, Dolores has a job…”

“Don’t you?” Sirius cut in irritably. “Aren’t you supposed to be a little more occupied with rounding up the Death Eaters that escaped and the Dementors that are wreaking havoc up and down the country? You might want to get your own house in order before sticking your nose into mine. I will say this only once more, Minister, the Ministry of Magic has no authority over Hogwarts, and that will not change. Now, I suggest you leave, and take Dolores, and this prat with you. You’ve all outstayed your welcome.”

Fudge attempted to maintain what was left of his dignity as he exited the office first, followed quickly by Dawlish.

Umbridge remained behind to level a final glare at Sirius.

“You’ve not heard the last of this,” she warned.

“And neither have you, you hag.”

She left, and Sirius closed off the fireplace to ensure none of them could return.

“Do you think that was wise?”

Sirius shrugged.

“He’ll be gone the moment he realises Voldemort is back. He has no backbone to fight against him.”

“But to be replaced by whom?”

Sirius shook his head.

“That remains to be seen doesn’t it, but I would wager that there will not be enough support for someone that will do what needs to be done. No, it will be someone of his choosing.”

“You really think so?”

“It is inevitable, Minerva. That is why I have been busy this past year preparing for the very worst. All will be well in the end, that I do not doubt, but it is the journey there that worries me most. How many will we lose, and just what will he do?”

“There is no telling that, I’m afraid.”

“No, there isn’t,” Sirius murmured, “but all will be well.”

It was something of a mantra he’d been repeating to himself.

He did not doubt Harry nor his own plans he was concocting, but it was difficult to see the silver lining of the gathering clouds, not when they were so dark and foreboding.

(Break)

“It will take a few more days my lord,” Augustus said apologetically. “The security measures are much the same as I remember them, but not quite so simple to navigate. It has been almost fifteen years, and I was exposed as one of your followers.”

The Dark Lord nodded.

“But it can be done?”

“Of course, my lord,” Rookwood said dismissively. “It is not a matter of if but when. I will not fail you.”

He would not.

Augustus Rookwood was not a man that made promises he could not keep, and so long as he was successful, he could wait it out.

“Then proceed, Augustus. It is best that this is done right than not at all. I will inform Barty of your progress, and that he can proceed with his own part of the plan.”

Augustus offered him a bow and took his leave of the room.

He truly was an excellent wizard, and not a day had gone by that he regretted recruiting him.

“What about me, my lord? I grow bored here.”

“Patience, Bella. Your time will come. I expect you to lead the most important part of the plan.”

The woman beamed and all but skipped from the room, content for now, but it would not last.

Bellatrix had never been able to exercise restraint from long and needed to be kept on a short leash until he was ready to unleash her upon the world once more.

Progress was slower than he liked, but every part was moving in the right direction.

Neither Barty nor Augustus would let him down, but he was afraid the same could not be said for Wormtail.

He had been summoning the rat for weeks, months now, and yet, there was no sign of him. It wasn’t as though he could personally check in with him either if he was indeed still within Ilvermorny, but his work was of little consequence now.

He knew nothing of what the Dark Lord intended to do, so his presence wasn’t missed.

Even so, it did not sit well with him that the man had suddenly vanished.

No, either Wormtail truly could not leave the school until he was ready to provide a satisfactory report, or the damned fool had been captured.

The Dark lord was unsure of which, but neither were of much use to him now, just like the man he’d sent to gather the information he needed.

(Break)

“Harry, I understand that you want to fulfil your family duties but don’t you think it is a little too dangerous?”

“No,” Harry sighed. “He is not going to risk anything until he has the prophecy, Mum. It’s been more than fifteen years since someone upheld the vow my ancestors made to Godric’s Hollow. It’s about time that tradition was continued. The last memory they have of us is what happened the night he came, and it hangs over the place. They should see that the Potters are still around, that we haven’t abandoned them.”

It was with no small amount of pride that Lily looked upon her son, and Sirius felt it too as he was reminded once more of Charlus Potter; the man he had looked up to most.

Although she was not happy, she eventually agreed, and Harry even hugged her.

Being a diminutive woman, she looked so small in his arms now, and Sirius could not help but reflect on the times it was her carrying the boy, comforting after a bad dream, or nursing one of his inevitable injuries after his little ventures across the ranch.

He smiled as he thought upon the simpler times.

Both had done their best to see that Christmas held good memories for Harry, that not all holidays had to be laced with the underlying misery of loss.

It was snowing outside, and even the depressing aura of the Dementors outside of Grimmauld Place could not dampen his mood.

For as many worries as he had about his godson, it was those moments of kindness that gave him hope that Harry would be just fun when this was all over.

Beneath that hard exterior, that willingness to fight tooth and nail to put an end to Voldemort, there was still all of those things that reminded him of the Potters he’d known, and that Charlus had told him and James of.

“I didn’t expect to find you here.”

He jumped at the sound of the voice, and turned towards the door of his study, where Emmeline was standing, holding a present, and appearing as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“I don’t know how many times I have to remind everyone that this is my house.”

“Which you hate.”

Sirius chuckled amusedly as he stood and stretched.

He wasn’t certain how long he’d been sitting here pondering just about everything that came to his mind, but his back was sore, and the pile of missives he’d arrived to attend to remained unopened on the desk his grandfather had spent many hours behind.

It was something of a grudging respect he’d developed for Arcturus Black.

The two of them certainly had not seen eye-to-eye on many things over the years, but having read the man’s journal from cover to cover since it came into his possession, Sirius felt as though he understood his enigmatic grandfather, and he’d become the Lord Black he had.

Loss, sadness, and fear of further loss and sadness could have quite the impact, and there was an undeniable part of Sirius that hoped Arcturus Black would be proud of him, and at ease knowing he was at the helm instead of Lucius Malfoy.

“It’s still my house.”

Emmeline rolled her eyes at him.

“Is that for me?” he asked, reaching for the wrapped box.

She pulled it away and Sirius pouted.

“It might be.”

“Can I have it?”

“Not until tomorrow.”

“That’s ages away!” Sirius whined.

She shook her head and tutted. Taking pity on him, she hesitatingly gave him the gift, and Sirius beamed as he undid the bow.

“Such a child,” she sighed.

He ignored her as he began pulling out the decorative paper she’d used to as a filler, and he smiled fondly at the framed photo within.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, removing it, his gaze not leaving the image of him and James.

He remembered when it had been taken.

Gryffindor had just won the house cup, and he and James were planning to sneak out of the school to Honeydukes for supplies to celebrate with the rest of the house.

“Minerva gave it to me.”

Sirius smiled and placed the photo on the desk.

“Simpler days,” he said sadly. “Before any of this.”

Emmeline nodded.

“Hopefully, we’ve not seen the last of them.”

“It won’t be the same, will it?”

“No, but there is still so much to look forward to. One day, Harry will want to get married and have children. You’ll be the closest thing to a grandfather they have.”

“That makes me feel old.”

“You’re not getting any younger.”

“You know, you have a way of really cheering me up.”

“Well, what else will I do with my free time? When I’m not here, or struggling to get some sleep at home, I’m guarding something that isn’t even there.”

Sirius nodded his understanding.

“I know, none of this is easy for any of us.”

“Especially you. I can’t imagine how difficult all of this is.”

“I get by. I always wondered how Albus managed, but he did it because he had to. Without him, someone has to step up, for now, at least.”

“Until Harry is ready.”

“Until Harry is ready,” Sirius agreed with a sad smile.

“How is he?”

Sirius shook his head.

“Better than most of us, and I don’t know if it is because he is still young and ignorant, or it’s that he is just built differently. I used to think it was the first, but not so much anymore. He’s tough, tougher than anyone else I’ve met, and more than that, he is capable.”

“Do you really think he can…?”

“I do,” Sirius said sincerely. “I think the Dark Lord has no idea what he’s got himself in for. He thinks he’s the one hunting Harry, but if anything, it is the other way around. It will be Harry that finds him, and Voldemort will not know what’s come until it is too late.”

“I hope that is true,” Emmeline murmured. “I really do.”

“Doesn’t stop me being terrified,” Sirius admitted.

She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“We all are.”

He offered her what he hoped was a comforting smile before frowning.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I forgot to bring your gift.”

“You mean you forgot to get me a gift.”

“No, I got one for you, it is back at the house.”

“Then we’d best get it, hadn’t we?” Emmeline asked, shooting him a grin. “What time is it there?”

“Getting towards dinner time.”

“Well, look at that, I get a gift, and you can cook for me. I’m starving.”

“Why can’t you cook for me?”

Emmeline quirked an eyebrow at him, and Sirius deflated.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll cook.”

Emmeline shook her head amusedly.

“If all it takes is a look from me for you to fold, you might just be in trouble, Sirius Black.”

“That, I do not doubt,” he returned.

He’d never been so pliant with anyone.

As a rule, Sirius liked to be difficult and always had been when it came to the opposite sex. Perhaps that was why they eventually grew tired of him, or maybe they just got sick of waiting around.

He’d never been so good with commitment, and even now, the thought of it was rather daunting.

Not that it was something he expected with Emmeline Vance, but did she expect it from him?

He wasn’t sure. They had spent much time around each other since Voldemort had returned, had laughed as they shared a back and forth or two, but there wasn’t anything else to it, was there?

Once more, he’d found a question of himself he did not know the answer to, and that was not such a common thing when it came to his personal life. These past years, Sirius had been certain of his role in life, but that seemed to be changing before his very eyes.

Harry did not need him as he once had, and there simply had to be something beyond being the boys’ godfather.

What would Harry say if he was to discuss it with him?

Sirius snorted at the thought.

Harry would likely tell him to get on with it, to enjoy what happiness he’d could grasp, and do so with his full support.

The problem facing Sirius Black was that he did not know what it was he wanted, though as he looked at the hand holding his own, he found that he quite liked where things might just be going.

(Break)

He felt somewhat nervous as he approached the church in the centre of Godric’s Hollow. Truthfully, Harry was not certain what kind of reception he would receive or even know if he would be welcome.

It had been some years since the Potters had last graced the people here with their presence, and in that time, they could’ve been all but forgotten about by most.

To the locals, Harry could well just be a stranger arriving to give them handouts for his own gratification, which wasn’t entirely untruthful.

More than anything, however, he wanted to be here, to uphold the family tradition established by his ancestors.

“Dear Lord, I did not think I would see the day!”

Harry turned to be greeted by the sight of the local reverend who was approaching him slowly, his expression of shock forming into a wide smile.

“Harry Potter,” he said in just above a whisper as he neared. “Oh, yes, my eyes may be old, but I see the resemblance. You look much like Charlus, and even William.”

“You remember my grandfather?”

“My dear boy, I remember your great grandfather. I had only been here a short while before William Potter came to visit and assured me that the people of the village would never want for anything. He was a man of his word, as was Charlus. I was aggrieved to hear of them passing on before their time, and more so your father. I had the honour of marrying your parents and laying James to rest. May his soul do so peacefully. I remember you too. Of course, you were just a babe, and now, you are almost a man.”

He took Harry by the hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” Harry offered sincerely. “I really don’t know how any of this works. I brought food, clothes, and toys…”

“Not to worry. I will help you set everything up and send word that the Lord Potter has returned home.”

“I’m not the Lord yet.”

“No, but you are the last, so to the people here, you will be their Lord. Come, it is much warmer in there. I expect it will only take you a few moments to do what you need,” he added with a grin.

“You’re a wizard.”

“No, no, but I am no fool. I know my flock, Mr Potter, and I have seen some truly wondrous things during my time here. It is the worst kept secret among us all that witches and wizards live here.”

Harry could only shake his head as he followed the man into the main area of the church where his mother and father would’ve exchanged their vows.

The building was old, likely more than a thousand years, right around when the Peverells would’ve roamed these lands.

Now, as he was the last of the Potters, he was here fulfilling the duties of those that so much mystery surrounded, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Perhaps he might even be able to remove some the stain of the place left behind by Tom Riddle. At the very least, the people of Godric’s Hollow would be fed, clothed, and entertained once more, courtesy of the Potters, as it had always been.

(Break)

“My lord, I’ve just been informed that Potter is in Godric’s Hollow?”

“He is?”

Lucius nodded.

“He is in the church, handing out food and presents to the locals.”

The Dark Lord chuckled amusedly.

“He is vulnerable, my lord, should we…?”

He held up a hand to silence the man whilst he pondered the opportunity before him. He could not deny that the temptation was almost overwhelming, but he was not so foolish to risk the other plan that was already in motion.

No, that simply would not do, not when the success of it was much more likely.

Nonetheless, he could not let this pass him by when it had been placed so readily in front of him.

“No, Lucius, we shall not risk it, but that doesn’t mean we cannot use it to our advantage. I will require your assistance with one part of the plan, and the other… Send in Macnair. I have need of him. I will send a message to Barty so that he can make his own preparations.”

“Of course, my lord. What do you require of me?”

“Just a delivery, Lucius, and then make yourself available to Bella. She will have need of you.”

(Break)

“It has been many years since I last spoke with your grandfather. He was a s good man, a kind man.”

“Oh, your grandmother was the sweetest woman. I remember seeing her give her fur coat to one of the elderly ladies after hers was lost. Dorea was beautiful.”

“I did wonder if you would be continuing the work of your family here, and I am pleased to see that you truly are a Potter through and through. Of course, we all help one another whenever it is needed, but the village has always been all the better for the presence of the Potters. It brings us a sense of comfort and peace,” Bathilda offered. “Now, had me those tongs. I’ll help you fill these plates.”

Any notion that he might not be welcomed was all but forgotten as he spoke to each of those that arrived at the church. All greeted him with warmth and familiarity, and Harry could not be happier that he’d decided to spend this time here.

As fulfilling as it was to give to the people, it was the feeling of reclaiming his home back from the darkness that had taken hold of it he was relishing in. It was as though he could truly feel a shift in the mood, a chair in the air, and the village itself breathing a sigh of relief.

It would take more than a single meal, some clothing and toys to completely remove the unpleasantness that lurked here, but it was a first step in the right direction.

However, as a familiar, unpleasant chill began to take hold of those within the church, his mood was immediately soured.

Those gathered felt it too, seemingly much more so than him, and shivered, and though Harry was somewhat satisfied to have confirmed his suspicions that Voldemort was indeed watching the village closely, it quickly gave way to the gravity of what he was facing.

Still, he had prepared for this moment knowing that it would inevitably come.

The Dementors were among the vilest of creatures, chose to serve Tom Riddle, but they would receive no feast this evening.

“What is happening?” the reverend asked worriedly, trembling within his robes.

“Nothing good,” Harry murmured. “Keep everyone inside. I will handle it.”

How he could speak with such confidence, he wasn’t sure. Harry, however, felt it within himself that he could indeed overcome whatever he would be greeted by upon exiting the church.

As he did so, the cold grew only worse as the Dementors drew nearer.

In the darkness, they were all but impossible to see, but Harry could feel each of them gathering above.

Twenty, thirty, forty… dozens of them, and as was in their nature, they swarmed, diving towards the village in the hopes of a bounty they would never taste.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”  Harry roared.

The ethereal falcon burst from the tip of his wand, much larger, and blindingly brighter than he’d ever seen it, its beak opened in a silent screech, and its eyes narrowed dangerously.

Unwaveringly, it rocketed towards the Dementors at a blistering speed, bathing the village in a gentle, protective glow.

Harry was taken aback by the eagerness of his guardian, and the ferocity it fought with, though more so by the speed it achieved to keep the creatures at bay.

They tried to get past it, even splitting into smaller groups to do so, but the falcon was too quick, too powerful, and too much for the creatures to overcome.

It was with an eerie screech that they finally gave up the fight, their protests fading along with the chill they brought.

When Harry was certain they were gone, he allowed the restless bird to take a lap or two of Godric’s Hollow before it dissipated, and he looked upon his wand in awe.

He’d become proficient in using the Patronus Charm, but never had he seen it cast in such a way.

“That was incredible,” the reverend whispered. “Once again, a Potter comes to our assistance when we need them most.”

Harry did not point out that he was the reason the Dementors had arrived in the first place and wasn’t given the opportunity to do so as almost a dozen Aurors arrived in the churchyard with their wands drawn.

“What the hell is going on here?” one of the men demanded, levelling his wand towards the gathered villagers. “A great magical disturbance was detected in the area.”

Harry stepped in front of them protectively and levelled a glare at the Auror.

“Dementors,” he answered. “A whole bloody swarm of them.”

“Dementors don’t cause that sort of disturbance.”

“No, but I can feel them, Dawlish,” one of the other Aurors declared, shuddering in discomfort.

The others nodded their agreement.

“That still doesn’t explain…”

“I fought them off,” Harry huffed. “I used the Patronus Charm.”

Dawlish laughed mockingly.

“You!”

“Yes, him,” a grim voice interjected. “Now, you wouldn’t be thinking of attempting to arrest my godson would you, Dawlish?”

“He did perform underage magic…”

“In extenuating circumstances. There are dozens off witnesses here to corroborate what Harry is telling you. I would think very carefully about what you do next. How do you think the media will react if you were to arrest Harry Potter of all people for defending an entire village from a Dementor attack that are only loose because of the incompetence of the Ministry of Magic? It wouldn’t look good, would it?”

It wasn’t Harry saw his godfather so severe, but Sirius had something of a presence about him. He commanded respect, and there did not seem to be any support for Dawlish among the Aurors that had arrived with him.

“Bloody hell, Dawlish, don’t be stupid,” one of them sighed. “Arresting him will only end badly for all of us.”

“The Minister…”

“Will not have a leg to stand on, no matter who’s arse his tongue is rammed inside. No law has been broken, so, I suggest you write your report and bugger off.”

Dawlish was quite apoplectic, and something told Harry that his demeanour wasn’t about him at all, but the bitterness he felt towards Sirius.

Even so, with no support and the warning ringing in his ear, his nostrils flared.

“I want statements from everyone here,” he barked, “and if a single thing is amiss, Potter, I will personally haul you into the Ministry myself!”

With that, he vanished with a loud crack, and Harry shot the space he’d been standing a rather unpleasant gesture that his mother would not approve of.

“You were watching me.”

“No, but Dung was here.”

“Was,” Harry snorted.

“Oh, I’ll be having words with him for running off, but we have more important things to worry about right now.”

“Like what?”

“The fact that Sturgis was just found dead in the corridor of the Department of Mysteries.”

“Bloody hell, what happened?”

Sirius shook his head and gestured for Harry to follow him.

“We’re not sure yet. Dilys checked on him and returned again less than an hour later. He was already dead, and from what we can gather, he was bitten by a snake. They’ll investigate which kind, but I expect it will be kept quiet.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully.

For Podmore to be bitten by a snake, it would have to have been placed nearby, and even then, there was no promise it would attack him.

No, snakes were docile creatures for the most part, and certainly did not have the wherewithal to carry out such an attack without considerable help.

Something was deeply amiss, and Harry needed answers. For that, there was only one man who could provide them, and given what had just happened in his department, he did not expect Croaker would be in the best of moods.

Nonetheless, something felt wrong to Harry, and it wasn’t the lingering coldness of the Dementors.

“No, none of this makes any sense,” he declared.

“Nothing ever does when it comes to him.”

Harry shook his head, the feeling of unease within him becoming more prominent.

“This really doesn’t. Why would he risk killing Sturgis, and sending the Dementors after me?”

Sirius frowned at the question.

“He is insane, but you might just be onto something, Harry. Killing Sturgis was a big risk, something he knew would get our attention.”

“So, a distraction then?”

“To what end? He wants the prophecy more than anything else, well, except for the obvious,” he added apologetically.

“I don’t know, but it looks as though we have another problem.”

Dozens of journalists and men with cameras had arrived in the village, and Sirius hurried Harry to the rear of the church.

“Put your cloak on, and do not show yourself. There’s no telling who might arrive. I’ll head them off as best I can. It’s better if they hear what happened from me rather than being able to put their own twist on it. I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Harry nodded and did as he was bid only for a sudden feeling of dread fill him as the dragon tooth necklace he wore began to thrum against his chest almost desperately.

Beneath his cloak, he cursed, panicking, and not knowing what to do as it thrummed again, and again, each one different, but no less alarming.

They were alerts.

His necklace was connected to each of the gifts he’d given his friends the previous year for Christmas, and until now, they’d remained dormant.

Now, however, all of them were in mortal peril, all of them except for Gabrielle, which meant Riddle had sent his followers to America.

Readying himself to depart, to what and where first, he did not know, he paused as a message appeared on the rear wall of the church, seemingly written in blood.

If you wish to see them again, you will go to the place where it is hidden and retrieve for me. If you do not know where it is, you’d best be quick in learning of it. Time is ticking, Harry Potter…

You have until midnight to arrive…

Come alone, or they die…

Harry immediately knew what the message was referring to, and breathed something of a relief in knowing that his friends were still alive, though it was short-lived as he realised the predicament he was in.

Riddle would not simply allow them all to leave. That went against everything he stood for.

No, he would kill them all, and much quicker when he realised that the prophecy was not there at all.

Seeing that Sirius was still busy with the members of the media, Harry took a moment to take stock, to ponder what might just be waiting for him in the Department of Mysteries.

The one advantage he had is that Voldemort was unlikely to be there himself.

No, he would not risk exposure unless it became absolutely necessary, not until he knew the contents of the prophecy.

He would, however, ensure that his most capable and trustworthy Death Eaters were there to ensure Harry did exactly as he’d been instructed, or would he?

Harry was not certain of what awaited him, but what he did know, was that his friends were in danger and he could not sit idly by whilst their lives hung in the balance.

As terrified and angry as he was, he knew he needed to be sharp, to prepare as best he could in the moments he had at his disposal, which according to his watch, were not many.

Forty minutes.

That was all the time he had, and not knowing what it was exactly he would be walking into, he would undoubtedly be relying on his wand, his instincts, and more than a little luck to get them through this night, if such a thing was possible.

Still, he needed to try, and Harry would do whatever it took to see it so.

Riddle and his followers would learn that for themselves soon enough.