A Promise Kept - Chapter 51 - To War

To War

“Where have you been, Harry?” she asked, breathing a sigh of relief as her son entered the kitchen.

“I needed to get the others home, and just needed some time to think,” he answered tiredly.

“How are they?”

Harry shrugged.

“Physically fine. They don’t remember much, but that doesn’t change anything. It should never have happened.”

Lily nodded as she watched him pour a cup of coffee.

He looked so much older now; a far cry from the little boy she’d once cradled in her arms. Now, he could likely do so to her. He towered over Lily now by more than a head, and he was much broader, though not quite as stocky as James had been at his age.

“I’ll only be returning to Ilvermorny for a week before I leave. It’s not safe for me to be there anymore. Fontaine is arranging for me to sit my NEWTs, and that will be it.”

Lily had expected Harry would not see his schooling through to the end.

Voldemort had been back for more than a year now, and in only a matter of months, he would be seventeen.

“I don’t suppose anything I say will change your mind?”

He shook his head and offered her a warm smile.

“No. We both know what I have to do, and being at school is not going to change that. If anything, it will only delay the inevitable.”

“You’re not in this alone, Harry.”

“I know, but ultimately, it is my responsibility to make sure it comes to an end, and it’s not just him, is it. His followers will come for me just as much in the hope of presenting me to him. I’d rather be on the offensive than looking over my shoulder for the foreseeable future. Anyway, I need to get some rest now.”

He finished his coffee and left the room, and Lily could not help but despair at just how things had changed. She had known all these years that it would come, but there was no amount of knowledge that could’ve prepared her for where she found herself now, nor what it would do to her son.

“He’ll be fine,” Sirius said encouragingly as they watched Harry entering one of the carriages for the final time.

Lily wasn’t sure if the man truly meant it, or if he was trying to convince himself.

“Will he?”

Sirius nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Yes,” he said more confidently. “We have to believe that.”

She wanted to.

More than anything she wanted to believe that Harry would emerge on the other side of what was to come intact and well, but she knew better. Even now, she, along with the others that had survived Voldemort’s first uprising bore the scars of years of living in fear, of fighting for their lives, and losing many they cared for.

She wanted to believe that it might just be different this time around, but she knew it wouldn’t.

There would be more fighting, more scars, and more losses before anything resembling victory came.

Lily Potter could only hope her son would not become another of those scars.

Oh, he had handled himself admirably when confronted with the Dark Lord in the Ministry of Magic, and she had every faith that he could do what no other could before him, but she knew the world as a cruel place, and couldn’t trust that there wouldn’t be a twist of fate to continue the cruelty she and Harry had already endured.

“He will be fine,” Sirius reiterated once more.

(Break)

“Harry, where are your badges?” Isabelle asked.

He released a deep breath.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the inevitable conversation for long given that he would only be remaining at Ilvermorny for another week, two at most if there was any delay taking any of his exams.

Undoubtedly, the girl had read of what had transpired Christmas Day, and the others would’ve written to her during the holiday.

It was as though none of his friends knew what to say to him, and in truth, Harry didn’t either. He was still wracked with guilt for what had happened to them, and no amount of platitudes would change that.

“I handed them back,” he answered. “I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Leaving?” Olivia asked.

He nodded.

“Fontaine has arranged for me to sit my NEWTs this week, and then, I’ll be gone. It is too dangerous for me to be at the school. Voldemort will do whatever it takes to get to me, and that puts everyone else at risk. I won’t let that happen.”

The others shared a look amongst themselves, each willing the other to speak, and Harry shook his head.

There was nothing that could be said to change his mind.

“Harry, what happened, it wasn’t your fault…”

“I know, but it will only get worse if I stay, and next time, we might not be so lucky. I can’t rely on that, not when it comes to him. I always knew this day would come. I’d prefer it if it wasn’t right now, but that’s the way it is. It’s not in me to hide from it all. Whether I like it or not, it’s coming, and I’d rather face it than try to hide.”

They were not placated by his words, and Harry didn’t expect them to be, only that they would accept his decision.

Regardless, his mind was made up.

Whatever semblance of normality he may have convinced himself these past years was all but gone. There was no more pretending, trying to be like any other teenager, or ignoring what it was that hung over him.

Now, it was time to confront what had haunted him since before he’d ever understood the danger he was in, and having fought Voldemort, he understood it more than ever.

The man was dangerous, without a conscience or remorse, and his greatest desire was to see Harry dead.

It was a shared sentiment.

Harry wanted Riddle dead more than anything else.

“We’re here,” Olivia announced, taking him by the hand, all but dragging him from the carriage.

She did not release it as they made their way inside the school, and Harry did not miss the whispering and staring of his peers. For the most part, they’d not paid him much heed beyond his ability on the Quodpot field, but now, he was being subjected to the very same treatment he’d received whilst attending the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament.

Oddly, they had been much simpler times, and he found himself yearning for them once more.

“Eight am, Mr Potter,” Fontaine informed him as he walked by. “My office.”

Harry nodded.

Most teens would be dreading taking their NEWTs, with many needing to take a calming draught or two to see them through. Harry, however, was not concerned about his exams.

No, his concern was what came after.

War.

He would be marching off to war, and though he knew he was not entirely alone, it certainly felt that way.

When it came down to it, it would be settled between him and Riddle, but before that, Harry did not doubt there was much violence and misery to be had.

The Dark Lord would be cautious when it came to him, especially as he was still unaware of the entire contents of the prophecy.

Of course, he would already be plotting his next move, but he wasn’t alone in that venture.

Harry too was planning, was considering his own approach to the war, and was grateful for the advice Grindelwald had given him.

As much as his mother would wish for him to hold back, to be reticent in acting against his enemies, Harry had no intention of doing so. No, he would be taking the fight to the Dark Lord and his followers, and soon enough, they themselves would see that.

(Break)

He was not comfortable in the Dark Lord’s presence, and tonight, the man seemed to be in a particularly foul mood.

Draco fought the urge to shudder as the man’s gaze bore into his own.

“Your father failed me, Draco,” he whispered. “I am not accustomed to failure.”

He could only nod in response knowing that no excuse would suffice.

“What would it take to fix it?”

He immediately regretted asking the question as the Dark Lord replied with an unsettling smile.

“I am glad you are taking the initiative, Draco,” he praised insincerely. “What I want is something that only you may be able to provide for me. You have done well listening for anything that might assist me, and now, it is time for you to earn your place amongst my most loyal followers.”

“What would you have me do, my lord?”

“I want Black. I want you to ensure he finds his way to me, Draco. Only then will I forgive your father for his failings. You might even have the honour of receiving my mark. What say you, Draco?”

What else could he say?

It wasn’t as though he could deny the man, even if he wished to.

Truthfully, he was as honoured as he was fearful, but the Dark Lord was asking all but the impossible from him.

Black would not be easy to capture, and much to Draco’s relief and consternation, the plan had seemingly changed before he’d boarded the train to Hogwarts.

“From the Dark Lord,” his father murmured, slipping an envelope into Draco’s pocket, offering him a weak nod of encouragement.

He’d never seen the man so cowed.

Draco had grown up relishing in seeing how his father asserted himself of others, and how they withered under his glare.

Now, it was Lucius Malfoy withering, and with good reason.

Draco had not spoken with the Dark Lord much, but it took only a moment in his company to understand the presence he had. It was nothing short of overwhelming, so much so that it was enough to quell any other.

Except perhaps Potter.

Draco shook his head.

He knew next to nothing of what had happened in the Ministry of Magic, but whatever it was had left his father falling foul of the Dark Lord, along with the others that had been there.

Draco frowned as he removed the letter once more.

Draco,

You are to disregard our original plan in favour of something more pressing. I have included a list of names of those I wish for you to ensure are made available to me by the end of the month.

Terry Boot

Susan Bones

Ernest Macmillan

Zacharias Smith

There is a room on the seventh floor of the castle, hidden in front of the tapestry depicting the fool with the dancing trolls.

You need only pass by the wall three times whilst thinking of what it is you need. The room will become just that.

I expect the enclosed portkeys will be useful to you.

Dispose of this missive when you have memorised it.

He was relieved that he would no longer need to attempt to kidnap Black, but doing so with the others would not be so easy.

Bones, Macmillan and Smith were all in Hufflepuff, and they did not mix with any Draco was on good terms with, and Boot was a Ravenclaw, presenting a similar problem.

Still, he knew he needed to find a way, and as he reached to tapestry the Dark Lord had mentioned, he shook his head.

He did not doubt the man but could not comprehend how such a room existed within the school that none seemed to know of.

Not that Draco was complaining.

It would be quite the boon for him, and he’d likely have need of it if any got wind of what he was up to.

After all, this could certainly end quite badly for him if he was to be caught.

Black would be most unforgiving, and it wasn’t lost on him just why those particular students had been chosen.

Each of them had a parent of family member on the Wizengamot. Bones’ aunt was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to boot, and the others were influential in their own way.

Exactly what the Dark Lord was planning, Draco didn’t know, but he had his part to play, and failure was not an option.

(Break)

“And if you would be kind enough to cast the protean charm on the two mirrors, non-verbally, Mr Potter.”

Hary did so, and the examiner, a woman from the MACUSA offices, nodded satisfactorily as she scribbled a few notes on her piece of parchment.

“Excellent work,” she praised. “Now, I read of quite the phenomenon involving you and the patronus charm. Witnesses say you were able to drive away an entire horde of dementors. I must say, I am sceptical…”

“Expecto Patronum!”

The woman winced as the falcon burst from his wand, illuminating the entire office in a blindingly bright light.

For several moments, the bird flew laps above their heads until Harry dispelled it, and the woman shook her head.

“Truly incredible,” she whispered. “The spell itself is beyond ordinary educational expectations, but I have never seen one so powerful. That demonstrates mastery level work, Mr Potter. Have you considered…”

“No, not really,” Harry broke in. “Maybe one day I will do it, and maybe in Transfiguration too.”

“You should,” the woman encouraged. “Well, that concludes your Charms practical assessment. As with the others, you will receive your results shortly.”

Harry nodded appreciatively before leaving Fontaine’s office, pleased that another exam was over, and equally pleased he had only two others to complete.

Transfiguration, and Duelling, arguably two of the most complex studies at NEWT level, but Harry was not worried.

He’d been more concerned about his potions work.

Fortunately, all seemed to have gone off without a hitch, and soon enough, he would be done with his schooling.

Not that he was keen to leave Ilvermorny.

The closer the day drew nearer, the more the sense of dread of the war that awaited him set in, and though Harry knew what needed to be done, knowing it and achieving it were two different things entirely.

Already, he’d somewhat fumbled in retrieving the one of the Horcruxes when he’d tested the waters in the cave, and he knew that sooner rather than later, he would need to return to do so.

For that, he would need help, and already, he was planning on having just that.

As for the rest of the Horcruxes, he was not certain of what he would find when he located them, but if they proved to be as troubling as the lake filled with reanimated corpses, he would have his work cut out for him.

He released a deep breath to calm his warring thoughts knowing that he needed to focus on the last of his exams before allowing himself to be plagued by what was to come.

Even so, it wasn’t easy to put it to the back of his mind when it was now so imminent.

In only a couple of days, he would be returning to Britain to do all he could to put an end to the Dark Lord, once and for all.

(Break)

“You’ve not said much about him leaving.”

“What is there to say,” Wendell sighed. “Harry has made his mind up, and you know as well as I do that there isn’t any changing it, especially after what happened.”

“You must’ve been terrified.”

“I don’t remember anything. None of us do, and Harry came for us.”

“He has a thing for saving people, doesn’t he?” Isabelle said sadly.

“It’s who he is.”

She placed a kiss on his cheek, and though Wendell appreciated the attempt at comforting him, Harry leaving did not sit right with him. Of course, he understood his reasons why, and he would not dream of trying to dissuade his friend, but Wendell was worried.

He was worried that Harry would leave and he’d never see him again, that one day, he would simply read of his death in a newspaper, or hear it announced over the radio.

That would be what worried him with each passing day, and he knew it was the same for the others.

Not a single one of them held what had happened against Harry, and each would miss him in their own way.

Nonetheless, his decision had indeed been made. He’d handed in his badges, was finishing up his exams, and in only a matter of days, he would be gone.

Wendell only hoped that one day, he would see his friend again, unburdened by all that had haunted him since he’d been a babe, and living a life he well and truly deserved.

(Break)

“The giants grow restless, my lord, as does Greyback. They’re eager to serve,” Macnair spoke.

They were eager only for bloodshed and chaos they could thrive in, and little else. Beasts were only loyal to their basest needs, as was their nature. So long as such needs suited his own, the Dark Lord didn’t mind their reasons for following him.

“And they shall, soon enough. For now, what we are doing requires just a little subtlety. Assure them their time will come, Walden.”

The man offered him a bow before leaving the room, and only a few moments later, the Dark Lord followed suit to check on the progress of one of his most pressing matters.

“Ah, Lucius. How are we faring?”

“Well, my lord,” the man answered, somewhat more relaxed than he’d been these past days. “Already, as you can see, our plan is coming together rather nicely,” he added, gesturing for him to enter the basement of the Malfoy home.

Now, it resembled more a secure dungeon, which had been separated into a few dozen small cells, which were protected by the Dark Lord’s own magic.

Already, eight of them were occupied, and he expected more prisoners to arrive in the coming days.

“Is it enough?”

“Not quite, my lord,” Lucius sighed, “but it will be. For now, there will be much resistance, especially from those that have either forgotten, or who do not remember why it is you were so feared.”

The Dark Lord’s nostrils.

“How short their memories are,” he chuckled. “I would see them reminded, and soon, Lucius.”

He paused before leaving the basement, frowning at the blonde girl glaring at him from one of the cells.

“Ah, this must be the Van Droombeeld girl.”

“It is, my lord.”

The girl continued to glare, and he chuckled once more.

“Such defiance will not last. You are one of those that do not know me, but you will. You will see how they fear me, how they dare not even utter my name in their own homes.”

She merely scowled in response before quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Harry is going to kill you. You couldn’t even kill him when he was a baby. What do you think he’s going to do to you as a man? You’re afraid of him, and you should be. He’s coming for you, for all of you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

She believed it, at least, but the Dark Lord laughed amusedly.

“When he is dead, I’m going to present his corpse to you so you can see for yourself what happens to those that cross me.”

“Cross you? You went after his family. That was a big mistake, but I doubt you’ll live long enough to regret it.”

The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully, whipping his wand upwards and levelling it at the girl.

“Crucio!”

Her screams were music to his ears, and he wanted to see her suffer for her insolence, and yet, it was Lucius who intervened, much to his surprise.

“My Lord, if she is harmed, it will be the Americans…”

The Dark Lord begrudgingly ceased his treatment of her, and stormed from the room, but not before taking a brief moment to relish in her sobbing.

For now, he did not wish to provoke the ire of such a powerful country, not when he was yet to establish a firm hold over Britain, but the girl would pay for her words.

“Send for Macnair!” he snapped.

His anger was palpable, and though he knew the girl spoke foolishly, he wanted blood, and he wanted suffering. He wanted Britain to remember why it was they shuddered whenever his presence was felt.

(Break)

To Headmaster Black,

Having read through the reports supplied to us by Dolores Jane Umbridge, Liaison to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on behalf of the Department of Magical Education, we have concluded that our inspections have been completed satisfactorily.

Therefore, we no longer feel it prudent for her to continue in her capacity.

We thank you for your cooperation,

Simeon Entwistle

Department of Magical Education

Sirius snorted as he threw the parchment into the fire.

“Gone by Christmas,” Minerva sighed.

Sirius nodded and frowned at the stack of parchment she’d placed on his desk.

“Are all of these detentions?”

She nodded severely.

“Merlin, it has been less than a week.”

“And the tensions in the castle are running high. The Slytherins are feeling particularly emboldened, and well, the Gryffindors are not taking kindly to it. Mr Weasley and Mr Nott were brawling in Alastor’s classroom. Needless to say, he was not impressed. Both will be serving a month of detention with him.”

Sirius released a deep breath and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Any others causing problems?”

“No more worrisome than usual, but the incidents are already becoming more frequent. Horace has noted a clear divide in his house, and well, most of the students are keeping to themselves.”

“Just like last time,” Sirius murmured. “What of Draco?”

“He has been oddly quiet. I would’ve thought if any, it would be him to be causing problems.”

“I suppose he has been told to keep his head down. Lucius will not want any attention drawn to him after what happened at the Ministry.”

“And how is Mr Potter doing?”

Sirius smiled sadly.

“Better than most would be. He has returned to Ilvermorny for only this week to sit his NEWTs, and then…”

“I don’t suppose Lily is best pleased.”

“No, and I can’t say that I am either, but Harry will not be convinced to continue on there, not after what happened.”

“What will he do?”

“That is what worries me most. He is not one to sit idly by and do nothing.”

“No, he is not,” Minerva agreed, her gaze flitting towards the unmoving portrait of Albus that hung with the others. “Worse yet, he is quite unpredictable in his ways.”

“There is no telling what he will do, and in only a matter of months, he will be seventeen.”

Minerva could only shake her head at the implications.

“He is not like Albus in his ways.”

“No, he isn’t,” Sirius murmured. “He will not sit back and wait for the Dark Lord and his followers to attack only to respond. He will take the fight to them.”

“Then Merlin preserve him,” Minerva replied.

“Or have mercy on them, because Harry will not,” Sirius said darkly.

(Break)

“Remarkable,” the woman commented. “Your grasp for duelling is truly exceptional. It is no wonder you were able to hold you own against the Dark Lord.”

“I had a good teacher.”

“That may be so, but you have incredible instincts. You just seem to know what is coming even before it does. That is quite the gift, Mr Potter.”

Although he’d not duelled to woman, she’d expected him to be able to defend himself from her attacks and even explain what it was he’d do in response to movements she made.

Overall, it had not been a difficult assessment, but with it being his last, Harry knew the time to depart Ilvermorny for the last time would soon be upon him.

“Bloody hell, Sid, you scared the shit out of me.”

He’d decided he would take a final turn or two around the grounds, and had even visited the Quodpot field, where he’d enjoyed more success than he could’ve imagined.

“You’re leaving.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Then I will say goodbye to you now, Harry Potter. You have made your years here…”

“Enjoyable…Enchanting?”

“Interesting,” Sid said with a frown, “but I do not forget when someone helps me. It doesn’t happen often.”

“It was my pleasure, Sid, and thank you for the many hours of detention. I like to think we formed a lasting bond,” Harry replied, offering his hand.

The Pukwudgie nodded and accepted the proffered limb before walking back towards the castle.

“I hope I will see you again someday, Harry Potter. Maybe fate will set you on a path back to Ilvermorny.”

“What do you know of Fate?” Harry asked curiously.

Sid offered him a grin.

“Much is written in the stars, Harry Potter. Secrets held close, secrets shared, promises broken, and promises kept. Tomorrow may never come, but tonight we bathe in their glow. A wise woman told my father that. His name was William.”

“Isolt Sayre.”

Sid nodded and even smiled fondly.

“The very best of humans, and the wisest I knew.”

“Bloody hell, how old are you?”

“Old enough to have seen the world change, to see many come and go from this school, and to meet so few like you. I wish you well, Harry Potter, in wherever your path will lead you.”

Oddly, he found he would miss the surly little creature, just as he would everything else here.

Perhaps he’d come to take Ilvermorny for granted, but Harry would never forget that his very best memories were built at the school, where he’d met a better group of friends he could’ve asked for, experienced his first romantic entanglement, and had achieved more than he could’ve imagined.

Still, there was one more night of sleep to enjoy in his bed, before all would inevitably change.

Whether he was ready for that or not didn’t matter.

Come tomorrow, he would plunge himself into war.

With that troubling thought permeating, he made his way back to the common room to find it empty at this hour, and took an appreciative look around the expansive space.

He remembered the very first night he’d arrived and had woken up locked in the room used to test the mettle of the first-year students.

Already, it seemed as though that had been a lifetime gone by since, and Harry smiled at the memory, and the many others that had come after it before heading to his room.

He’d not even unpacked his truck when he’d arrived knowing his stay would be brief, and only a few of his possessions he’d left here over the summer remained.

There were a few books, some robes that certainly would not fit him anymore, and some of his favoured photos of him and his friends throughout the years.

It would be them that he missed most of all, and perhaps if life had been different, he wouldn’t be saying goodbye to them, but Harry knew this was no longer where he needed to be.

Even so, he wished that he could stay, that he could forget the ills of the world outside the castle walls, and he could enjoy the last two years.

That, however, wasn’t to be.

It was a gentle knocking on the door that pulled him from his thoughts, and he opened it to be greeted by Olivia, who offered him a nervous smile.

“Is this the part where you try to convince me not to leave?” he asked amusedly.

“Would it work?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t waste my breath,” she huffed, stepping past him. “I see you’ve already packed.”

“I never unpacked.”

She frowned as she looked around the room.

“It already feels empty.”

Harry nodded his agreement, and she folded her arms as her gaze flitted towards him.

“You know, you’re an ass.”

“You’ve told me that enough times.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t miss you, or…”

“Or what?”

“You really are dense, aren’t you,” Olivia huffed.

She closed the distance between them, and Harry felt her lips pressed against his. For a moment, he was in a state of disbelief, not having expected it.

The two of them had flirted back and forth for the past couple of years, but nothing had emerged from it, and nothing else she had done had given him the impression that she actually liked him.

“Is this a good idea?” he asked when they paused for air.

Their foreheads were resting against each other, and Harry was trying to process what was happening in the moment.

“No, it isn’t, but does it really matter? I’ve thought about doing this for a while.”

“You have?”

Olivia nodded.

“You were with Sabine, so, I didn’t. Now, you’re not, you’re leaving, and I might not ever get another chance.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, but he was aware of her being pressed against him, of the smell of coconut wafting from her hair, and the warmth of her breath across his lips.

He couldn’t deny that he’d not thought of this, but he’d not expected it to ever amount to anything.

Olivia was his friend, and as strange as it was to find themselves where they were now, it didn’t feel wrong. Perhaps it would when the morning came, but that was a problem for later, if it became such.

“Don’t say a word,” she urged as she kissed him once more. “This doesn’t change anything.”

Harry allowed himself to indulge in the girl once more, forgetting everything else that might come, to just enjoy the moment they were sharing.

(Break)

“It has been days and Cornelius remains silent,” Amelia Bones said irritably.

“And he will do so until he is forced otherwise,” Sirius pointed out. “We need someone willing to take his place.”

“There won’t be many queuing for that job.”

“No, they won’t,” Sirius murmured thoughtfully.

“Why not you?”

“Because I a needed where I am.”

“I think you’re more needed elsewhere.”

Bones frowned at him as she deflated.

“Who would replace me?”

“Whoever you think can follow your lead.”

She said nothing for several moments before nodding.

“If it becomes necessary, I will do it.”

“And you will have my backing.”

“He says that he’s going to live at Grimmauld Place,” Lily sighed tiredly.

She’d not slept much this past week, and not peacefully since before Christmas. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could only see the very worst outcomes playing repeatedly in her mind.

“Well, he will be safe there,” Andromeda comforted. “No one is getting in that house, not even Voldemort.”

“I know, but it isn’t as though Harry will be staying inside there.”

“No, I don’t think he will,” Andromeda agreed. “I won’t pretend to fully understand what you’re going through, but with Nymphadora, it worries me. She still doesn’t fully understand what it was like before, well, you know.”

Lily nodded.

“They will soon enough. He’s not going to wait around much longer. He’s planning something else. I can feel it in my bones.”

She could.

Whenever there was seemingly little happening during his first rise, Voldemort was planning and preparing for his next instance of unpleasantness, and Lily did not doubt he was doing the same now.

The problem with the Dark Lord, however, was that he was unpredictable, and there was no telling what was coming, but it would.

That was inevitable, and she could only hope that Harry would find a way to navigate it.

More than anything, she wanted to keep her son safe, to shield him as she had when he’d been a babe, but Harry was on the cusp of manhood, and Lily Potter knew that he’d be damned if he would even consider doing nothing.

For all the plans Voldemort was making, Harry would be doing much the same, and though she was terrified of what was to come, she knew in her heart of hearts that the Dark Lord had never been confronted with such a foe as her boy.

If he hadn’t experienced it already in the Ministry of Magic, he was in for quite the rude awakening, and it would come sooner than he could envision.

Just as she was certain Voldemort was making moves in the shadows; she knew that Harry was too.

(Break)

He held the crying Marisa, only to find himself engulfed by the others, except for Wendell, who merely grinned at him, though his eyes were laced with worry.

“You’d better write,” Isabelle insisted.

“Oh, he’ll write,” Maggie added warningly. “Won’t you, Harry?”

“Yes.”

The girl’s gaze bored into his own, and Harry chuckled as he pocketed his trunk, taken aback as both Fontaine and Clarke approached.

The woman pulled him into her arms in a rather uncharacteristic gesture, and all but squeezed the air from his lungs.

“Don’t do anything foolish, Potter.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“That’s true,” Professor Clarke sighed. “Just be as safe as you can be.”

Professor Fontaine nodded his agreement as he stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Be well, Harry Potter,” he urged. “It has been a pleasure getting to know you these past years.”

“And you, Headmaster,” Harry replied sincerely, accepting the man’s hand before offering the group a final nod, and activating his portkey.

His initial arrival to Grimmauld Place had been brief.

Harry had only taken the time to find a vacant room he could sleep in before taking his cloak, his wands, and his trusted dagger before leaving the stately home with only one destination in mind.

He’d never visited Knockturn Alley, but much of the discussion during the Order meetings had revolved around the infamous wizarding street, and he wished to experience for himself.

Perhaps he would succeed where the others had failed and learn something of worth during his little venture.

Not that Harry was looking for trouble.

For now, he wished to get a feel for the place, to discover its secrets, and in turn, unlock a new path for him to explore.

According to Sirius, Knockturn Alley was where the dregs of society came together with the upper echelons; the two world’s colliding in an odd harmony which served both well enough.

The rich would use the unsavoury to do the things they could not dirty their own hands with, and the poorer man could make significant sums of gold by doing so.

In a way, Harry could appreciate such a revolutionary coming together, but it meant that many other things were brewing in the undercurrent of the strange company.

That was what he wished to uncover, and as he entered the alley, he could almost feel it in the air, a sense of anticipation, of nervousness, and expectation.

It was a heady atmosphere, and on the surface, it did seem that it was merely a rather seedy place for sellers to ply their trade.

It wasn’t.

Harry could feel the magicks at play, that much was concealed from the naked eye, and that Knockturn Alley was a place that could simply swallow someone up with no trace that they’d ever been here.

Not for the first time in his life, he was grateful that he was within the confines of his cloak.

Of course, it was not foolproof.

All it would take would be for an unsuspecting person to bump into him, which was why he was being particularly vigilant with every step he took, sticking as closely to the buildings as he possibly could.

Even so, it was busy here, likely booming because of Voldemort’s return, and yet, there was not an Auror in sight.

Knockturn Alley was all but a lawless part of magical Britain, and Harry did not doubt that he would find what he sought here; information above all else, and among the dwellers, the assistance he may need from an unwitting volunteer or two.

The cave containing the dead came to mind, and as Harry continued on his way, he watched those that came and went, knowing he would be spending much time here in the coming days and weeks, whilst he got a feeling for what it was Britain was about in a time of magical civil war.