A Promise Kept - Chapter 53 - A Single Night

A Single Night

“What is this place?” Harry asked curiously as he and Sirius arrived in a sizeable flat.

His godfather smiled fondly.

“Take a look out of the window,” he urged.

“Diagon Alley,” Harry murmured.

“My uncle Alphard left it to me when he died,” Sirius explained. “I used to visit him here, and he was just about the only family member I liked.”

“So, he wasn’t like the others?”

“No, far from it. He was all but banished from the family because he refused to get married, and the others could not accept his preferences.”

“He was gay.”

“As the day is long,” Sirius chuckled. “It never bothered me, and I liked Alphard. Anyway, he left it to me, and I’m giving it to you. You’ll be seventeen soon enough, and you’ll want a place of your own.”

“Does my Mum know about this?”

Sirius nodded.

“Why do you think it took her more than a week to decide to come back?” he asked. “Harry, she doesn’t want you to think she is constantly watching over you or suffocating you, but you have to understand, she is your mother. She is always going to want to look out for you and ensure you’re doing what’s best. You should appreciate that.”

“I do,” Harry sighed. “I just refuse to make the same mistakes Dumbledore did the first time around. I can’t sit around waiting for Riddle to do whatever he wants and react to it. We won’t win the war that way.”

“I agree,” Sirius assured him, “but taking needless risks, especially without someone watching your back is reckless, and it will get you killed. I need you to think about these things, Harry, for me, your mother, and for yourself.”

Harry nodded his understanding and Sirius gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“You know, this was where you first came after, well, you know…”

“And then we ended up in America.”

“It was the best I could come up with. My only thought was to keep you and your mother safe. I promised your father I would.”

“For what it’s worth, I think he would be proud of how well you’ve done.”

“He’d bloody well better be, the git,” Sirius chuckled. “No, he would be, and he’d be proud of you, Harry. The whole prophecy thing changed both of their lives. Instead of fighting, they chose to do all they could to keep you safe. If it wasn’t for Wormtail…”

“Then he would’ve found another way, eventually.”

“You’re probably right. What did you do with his body?”

“Let’s just say Tom didn’t get the prophecy at the Ministry. I disguised Pettigrew’s head, so, that’s what he got instead.”

Sirius shook his head.

“I bet he wasn’t pleased by that.”

Harry shrugged.

“I wanted him to realise that I’m not Dumbledore, that it won’t be the same for him this time around. I want him to fear me like others do him. It’s not just the prophecy that will see the two of us going back and forth, it’s because it is what we both want. I will kill him, Sirius, no matter what it takes.”

“I don’t doubt it, Harry.”

He meant it.

Harry knew the other members of the Order were sceptical at best, but Sirius and even his mother, truly believed he could and would defeat Voldemort.

That meant something to Harry, more than he could put into words. Instead, he pulled his godfather into a tight embrace.

“Thanks, Sirius. For everything.”

The man nodded and offered him an encouraging smile in response.

There needed to be no further words exchanged between them. Sirius knew how much Harry appreciated him and the sacrifices he’d made over the years, and he would see that they were not for nothing.

(Break)

No matter where he went or what he did, he knew his every move was being watched. This Voldemort was taking no chances with him finding a way to go against him, so the supplies continued being sent to the Dark Lord in the hope that Sabine would remain unharmed.

“She is our daughter. We cannot…”

“Be quiet! Do you not think they are listening to us?”

His wife glared at him.

“The man I married would not allow this. If you do nothing, I will find a way to.”

“Then she will die!”

“Do you truly believe he will just let her go when he has taken enough from us? No, it is much easier for him to kill her. Need I remind you that he attempted to murder the Potter boy when he was just a babe.”

“I know that!”

Potter.

The news about him had been coming in thick and fast these past days. How much of it was true, he didn’t know, but the Potter boy was slowly becoming what the Van Droombeelds were here in America.

Why the boy was not at school wasn’t clear, well, to most, at least.

He’d gone off to war, was walking directly into the fire that wished to consume him. A foolish errand if there ever was one, and yet, he seemed to be handling it well enough, if the media was to be believed.

“Potter,” he whispered, looking around carefully to ensure their two ‘guards’ were not listening in.

They had arrived shortly after Crouch had announced himself to them. One of them, Gregory, was a large, rather dim man, but the other, Scabior, was sharp enough.

“What…?”

He held up a hand to silence his wife.

“If anyone can help her, it would be him. I’ll find a way of getting a message to him.”

His wife merely nodded in response, daring not to say anything else on the matter, but looking to him to be the head of the family that no other would dare cross in such a way.

Truthfully, he could not believe he was going to reach out to the Potter boy.

How he could help, he did not know, but Harry Potter was at the very centre of whatever it was happening in Britain, and his own contacts would be of little use, not in a timely manner.

Besides, the fewer people that knew of what happened, the better, after all.

Yes, it would be Potter he would look to. The only question that remained was how could he get the needed message to him?

(Break)

He watched as Bones and Macmillan kissed, entirely uninterested in what they were doing, but made a note of their rendezvous, the time, and place, to see if it was something he could take advantage of.

He’d seen Bones make an excuse to leave the dinner table, and Macmillan had followed a few moments later, joining the redhead in a disused classroom on the sixth floor.

If it proved to be a place they regularly met, Draco could certainly use that.

Already, he had figured out Boot and Smith’s routines.  Both were creatures of habit who played for their respective house Quidditch teams. Timing his effort so that he could take all five quickly, Draco knew it would be easier to take Smith after a training session because he would return to the Hufflepuff common room immediately after.

When the Hufflepuffs were training, Boot would be in the library, where he spent most evenings completing his homework and additional studies.

Oddly, it had been Abbott he’d struggled with while figuring out his movements. She often spent free time in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout, and it wouldn’t be so easy getting her to the seventh floor. The same could be said for Smith, so, Draco had opted for another approach, a riskier one overall, but more likely to work.

Now, all he needed to do was figure out when to make his move, and would do so as soon as he could confirm that Bones and Macmillan came here regularly to enjoy the company of one another.

Undoubtedly, their lives would not be so carefree and pleasant for much longer, should Draco succeed.

He shook his head of any doubt he was experiencing, reminding himself once more that he could not fail in his efforts.

What the Dark Lord would do to him, his father, or mother, had given Draco many sleepless nights already, and with each passing day bringing his deadline closer, what little sleep he did manage was haunting by visions of what would be should he not deliver his fellow students.

Draco could not be certain what would happen to them, but as far as he was concerned, it was them or him, and he knew which he would prefer.

Even so, it was not an enviable task, and when it was done, he would be doing his utmost to escape the Dark Lord’s attention, if such a thing was possible.

He could not help but think that this would be only the beginning of his service to the man his father looked to as the one that would lead them to a better future, whatever that meant.

(Break)

“You miss him.”

“No I don’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Wendell Green.”

“Why do I always feel like I’m in trouble when you use my full name?”

Isabelle grinned at him.

“You’re worried about him though.”

Wendell nodded.

“Both,” he answered sombrely. “I don’t know, it doesn’t feel the same without him, and I miss him, the jackass.”

“We all do,” Isabelle assured him, “but this is Harry. As much as he’s one of us, he’s not like us. If there is anyone able to do what he is, it’s him, no?”

Wendell released a deep breath.

“That doesn’t stop me worrying about him. Honestly, I can’t think of much else.”

“Because you love him. Not in the same way you love me, but he is like a brother to you.”

“Maybe,” Wendell snorted, “but if you tell him that, I’ll never live it down. He won’t let me. Anyway, have you told your parents about us?”

“My mother knows.”

“But not your father.”

“He will insist on a contract. I don’t want to put that pressure on you.”

Wendell shrugged.

“If that is what it takes, then I don’t mind so much. Ma and Pa get it.”

“Have you told them?”

Wendell shook his head.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that. Ma will want to invite you over, and that means the rest of the Greens will be there,” he added with a shudder.

“They can’t be that bad.”

“You have no idea. If you think I’m a back-wood caveman, you wait until you meet Uncle Jimmy. I once watched him wrestle a gator whilst sipping a bottle of whiskey. He lost two fingers in that fight but came away with an eye he wears on a necklace.”

“That is not true,” Isabelle chuckled.

“Ha, just wait until he offers his hand, or takes off his shoes. I don’t know how he lost his toes, but Aunt Rosie says it involved a badger, some grease, a pitchfork, and a mishap with an engorgement charm.”

She rolled her eyes at him as she took his hand.

“Do you like to wrestle alligators and badgers?”

“Not so much,” Wendell mused aloud. “Badgers are dangerous.”

“Aren’t alligators?”

“No more than you.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him in response, and Wendell held up his hands placatingly, breathing a sigh of relief as Olivia approached.

“Has he written?: she asked.

Wendell frowned as he removed the box from within his pocket and nodded as he retrieved the piece of parchment that had arrived.

To all of you,

I’m just writing to let you know that I am well, and that any rumours you might hear of an incident in Knockturn Alley are most definitely being exaggerated.

It is not how it likely sounds.

Stay safe,

Harry

He read it aloud to Isabelle and Olivia, who shared a knowing look.

“It will be worse than anything we might hear, won’t it?”

“Nothing has been mentioned. I was listening to the radio all morning, and there was nothing in the newspaper.”

He removed his portable wireless and tuned it to transmit the British station.

If there had indeed been quite a significant occurrence, surely it would be mentioned, but as the news was announced, there was nothing.

“If it was a big enough deal for Harry to mention it…”

“It should be on the news,” Isabelle finished with a frown.

“Or, someone is covering it up,” Wendell added, penning a note back to Harry, asking for an explanation.

“Why would they cover it up?”

“Politics, or someone doesn’t want the news to get out,” Isabelle murmured. “Maybe both.”

Wendell could only shake his head.

He understood that politics were what made the world function as it did, but where he was from, they did not pay them much heed, not unless it directly impacted their lives.

To him, politicians were mostly sleazy and dishonest men and women, who always had their own agenda, and it seemed that it was evidently the same the world over.

“Let’s just see what Harry has to say,” he urged.

The boy would undoubtedly play whatever had happened down in a way that they wouldn’t worry about him, and the fact he had managed to write to them was a good sign, at least.

Nonetheless, that did not stop any of the group worrying about him, and what he was up to back home, all but alone, as he did whatever it took to put an end to the war that had hung over him his entire life.

(Break)

Knockturn Alley was a mess.

The havoc wrought by his golem would take days, perhaps weeks to completely undo, and Harry could not help but feel a little pride in his work.

According to what little he’d been able to overhear, it had taken Voldemort himself to destroy his construct, which had barrelled its way through seven other stores before the man had done so.

Still, the fallout of his efforts to escape being capture by whomever he’d stumbled upon in the rundown pub was palpable.

Although he could not say he recognised any of the faces, it was not difficult to deduce that the additional men and women here at all hours were so at Tom’s command.

They appeared to be little more than people perusing the shops and stalls dotted around the lengthy street, but Harry did not miss their furtive glances, nor that each of them were poised and ready to strike at the mere sight of him.

It made navigating the alley all but impossible, but the distraction here did present another opportunity, though one that was perhaps riskier than being seen here.

With a final look around at his handiwork, Harry made his way to the apparation point, appearing around three miles east of the village of Little Hangleton.

He knew that arriving directly there would undoubtedly alert Tom of his presence, and the magic he could feel, even from so far away, confirmed his suspicions.

To most, it would be subtle, maybe escaping their notice entirely, but Harry knew it well enough that even the slightest trace of it would be quite obvious.

Readying himself for the considerable walk, he drew his wand in anticipation of whatever may await him when, or maybe before he arrived.

Where the Riddles and Gaunts hailed from was a beautiful, rural part of the country. Much of the area was surrounded by a thick woodlands, and in the distance, vast and expansive moors that stretched across the horizon.

He could see the appeal of living somewhere like this, but Harry wasn’t here to enjoy the scenery.

No, the nearer he drew to the sleepy village he sought, the stronger his unease grew, and with it, his vigilance.

Something was indeed nearby, something that didn’t belong, but other things that were hidden.

The Riddle family, he’d learned, had been wealthy, exceedingly so, and their manor was said to look over the entire village below the hill it had been built on.

What became clear immediately was that no such manor existed, not to the human eye, at least.

No, there was no sign of it, and Harry wondered if he’d come to the wrong place.

With it still being early the early afternoon, he entered the only shop serving the people here; a post office mixed with a convenience store selling everyday essentials on the outskirts of the gathering of small streets.

“You’re not from around here, are you,” the elderly shopkeeper asked with a frown as Harry entered.

“No, I’m just a visiting investigator. I’m looking into what happened to the Riddle family.”

His frown deepened as he shook his head.

“I’ve never heard of any Riddle family lad. You must be mistaken.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully as he pointed his wand towards the muggle.

“Obliviate,” he murmured.

It would not do for Tom to discover he’d been here, after all, and the Dark Lord had evidently taken the trouble of ensuring none remembered the noteworthy family that had once resided here.

To what end, Harry had his suspicions, but if the shopkeeper who had likely been here for several decades did not remember the enormous manor, it was likely that it had indeed been forgotten about.

Not that it wasn’t here.

No, Tom had hidden it, and maybe even frequented it, which was not the best news for Harry if he’d hidden a horcrux within.

Even so, taking his leave from the shop, he pressed on towards the lane he’d seen Bob Ogden visit in the memory Dumbledore had left for him.

What remained of the shack was still there, more dilapidated than it had been some fifty years prior, and it seemed that only a miracle was holding it up within the overgrown lawn littered with the remains of snakes and other creatures that had perished.

Harry, however, was not focused on the rotting flesh and desiccated bone. Upon entering the Gaunt property, he immediately became aware of something familiar, and he could not quite believe his luck.

It was here.

Hidden among the ruins of the last of the Slytherin line, there was a Horcrux, but with it, something else that called to him.

Cautiously, he checked the door for any traps before pushing it open, and when he did so, he was greeted by the sight of a dusty, broken floor, furniture which had rotten away over the years, and only four rooms which had housed he Gaunts.

On the mantelpiece sat only a few faded photos, one less so than the others, depicting a smiling man, woman, and two children, each of them resembling one another so closely.

He recognised Marvolo, Morfin, and Merope from the memories, but the woman had not been present.

Harry wasn’t sure when Marvolo’s wife had died, but in the photo, they at least looked somewhat happy.

Perhaps it was the woman’s death that had changed that.

No matter.

They were not here now, and the Gaunt family was now extinct save for one madman who, if Harry had his way, was not long for this world.

Shifting his focus away from the photos, he began focusing on the magic at play and found it strongest beneath one of the floorboards.

Carefully, he pried it away from the others and peered into the hole to see only a small box.

Not wanting to touch it but finding it difficult to ignore the impulse to do so, he levitated it until he floated in front of him, and when he eased the lid open, Harry was forced to fend off quite the attack on his mind.

The Horcrux was powerful and coupled with the compulsion charm imbued into the ring, he had a difficult time resisting the urge to place it on his finger.

Were it not for the extensive training in the Mind Arts, Harry did not doubt he would’ve given in to it, a frightening, sobering thought that plagued him as he continued to resist.

The magic itself did not subside, and it took several moments for him to ignore the overwhelming feeling of needing to hold the ring in favour of looking upon it.

As he suspected, it was the very ring Riddle had taken from Morfin Gaunt the night he’d murdered his own muggle relatives, resting on a bed of velvet, seemingly innocent, but perhaps the most dangerous object he’d ever come across.

Still, that other familiar feeling remained, and as he squinted to get a better look at the black stone nestled in the centre, he felt his heart jolt.

“The stone,” he whispered.

He’d thought that it would perhaps find its way into his possession, had even considered looking into what may have happened to the last of the Hallows, and yet, here it was before him, having been besmirched by a man who had no idea what he’d possessed.

Had he, Harry did not doubt that Riddle would’ve found a way to put it to use.

What he could achieve with it, he didn’t know, but that was not the pressing question he found himself pondering.

How was it that the stone had managed to come to be in the hands of the Gaunts?

Harry didn’t know, but as he closed the box and readied to depart from here before he was discovered, he decided he would look into it, knowing there was something he, and undoubtedly Voldemort himself was missing.

With a shake of his pounding head, he left the shack, ensuring that he was covered by his cloak before returning in the direction from where he came, his mind awash with questions that only presented more to him, but he could not deny he was relieved to have found another Horcrux.

“Only four more to go,” he murmured to himself, doing his utmost to ignore the pull of the ring he knew would kill him if he was to give in to the ongoing instinct to grab it and not let go.

(Break)

She shook her head as she observed the damage her son had caused, though there was more than a little part of her that was proud of him. James certainly would be. The man would find the entire thing quite amusing if he were to see this.

A fond smile graced her lips as she took her leave of Knockturn Alley, no less worried for Harry, nor comforted, but pleased he was handling things so seemingly well.

Reaching the apparation point in the eerily empty Diagon Alley, she returned to Grimmauld Place, to be met with the glare of Walburga Black.

Lily had never met the woman when she’d been alive, but if she was even half as unpleasant before she’d perished, she was pleased for it.

Often, she could be heard shouting expletives at those who passed her by, though she had not done so with Lily, not yet, at least.

Ignoring the woman’s penetrating gaze, she entered the kitchen to find Sirius nursing a cup of coffee and rubbing his eyes.

“How was it?” she asked.

He smiled as he nodded.

“I think he will appreciate the space, and I spoke with him about why we’re here. I remember being his age. He wants his independence, but he’s not quite as ready for it as he thinks. He won’t know it until he’s older.”

“Much older, you mean,” Lily snorted.

Sirius scowled at her before deflating.

“He worries me,” he admitted, “but he’s not doing anything I wouldn’t if I was in his position, except from maybe talking about it with the others. He keeps too much to himself.”

“Because he thinks he has to do it alone.”

“Or he wants to do it alone. You know what he is like, Lily, especially when it comes to you. He will put himself in mortal peril before letting any harm come to you.”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” Lily sighed.

Already Harry had proven that, to his detriment, but she knew no matter what she said or did, that wouldn’t change.

“How is Knockturn Alley looking?”

“Like a bloody bomb has hit it,” Lily chuckled.

Sirius nodded approvingly.

“Good, the shits there deserve it. Anyway, I’m going to get some sleep. This time change has done a number on me.”

It was the same for her, but it should only take a few more days to readjust.

Even so, Lily couldn’t quite believe that she was here, living back in Britain, and she couldn’t ignore that familiar feeling of dread that had taken hold of her and James when they’d learned of the prophecy hanging over their son.

It was somewhat different int hat she was older, had experience the worst loss of her life, and had somehow managed to see the last war through to the end.

Now, she had new things to worry about, and nothing more than her son who’d all but grown, and was irrevocably determined to destroy Voldemort, the way the Dark Lord had destroyed them.

(Break)

He was grateful that he’d taken the time to learn the disillusionment charm over the summer. That, along with his lessons in the Mind Arts from his Aunt Bella had taken up much of his time, and though he’d rather not be in the mad woman’s company, Draco knew that staying on her good side was for the best.

She was frightening, her moods shifting from one extreme to the other in mere seconds, and the years under the dementors certainly had not helped her.

“Was Aunt Bella always like that, even before going to Azkaban?”

“She has always been completely out of her mind,” his father answered. “The only thing in this world she cares about is the Dark Lord. She is obsessed with him, Draco, so, do not say anything critical in front of her. Better yet, do not speak unless you are spoken to. She needs no excuse to harm any.”

Even his father was wary of Bellatrix Lestrange, and Draco understood why.

He shuddered at the thought of being back in her company, but as he heard the footsteps approaching, he knew that would be sooner rather than later.

“Stupefy!”

Macmillan had no chance to defend himself before he slumped to the ground, and with another few spells, the boys’ body was charmed to be light enough to levitate, and he’d been shrunken to less than half his size.

Pulling him away from the door, Draco waited for Bones to arrive, and she did so only a few moments later, sneaking into the room only to crumple to the floor.

He shook his head at his own daring.

Draco was not opposed to conflict with his students, but what he was doing now was tantamount to murder.

Oh, he did not doubt that the Dark Lord will kill them if necessary, but once more, he reminded himself that it would either be them or him.

With that in mind, he performed the same spell on Bones he had Macmillan before turning both invisible and reapplying his own disillusionment charm.

It was not a perfect approach by any stretch, but it would suffice, or so he hoped.

Ensuring the coast was clear, he hurriedly began transporting them to the seventh floor, where he could create a room where he could use the portkeys the Dark Lord had supplied.

If he was fortunate, none would become any wiser to what he was doing until it was too late, and as he entered the room he requested, he hesitated only a moment before sending Bone sand Macmillan on their way, to the basement of his home.

“Boot next,” he murmured, taking his leave of the seventh-floor corridor and making his way towards the library, doing his utmost not to think of the consequences of what he was doing.

(Break)

She watched as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy leaned over something that had suddenly arrived in the basement, and the man began prodding it with his wand before jumping backwards.

“Merlin, he did it,” Narcissa whispered worriedly. “That is the Bones girl.”

“And the Macmillan boy,” Lucius added.

Sabine tried to get a better look at what was happening, but only managed to catch a glimpse of a mass of red hair before someone else entered the basement.

“Oh, Draco,” she said gleefully. “Oh, he is a good boy, Cissy. You should be proud of your son.”

Narcissa said nothing, but her already pale skin had become paler still as she looked towards her tight-jawed husband.

“Oh, and another one,” Bellatrix declared as something thudded against the stone floor. “This one must be a Boot. I will fetch the Dark Lord.”

The woman all but skipped from the basement, and Lucius and Narcissa remained silent for some time, both as nervous as they were terrified, evidently anticipating something else happening.

It was around fifteen minutes later that another pair of thuds confirmed the arrival of more unconscious people, and a third, Draco himself, who was swept into his mother’s arms.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” Draco huffed as he pushed the woman away, “but in less than a day, I will be wanted for what I’ve done.”

“Had you not, the Dark Lord would’ve killed us all,” Lucius hissed. “Now, go to your room, and stay there.”

Draco seemingly did not need telling twice, and made to hurry from the basement, only to be intercepted by the other woman who’d been here only moments prior.

“You’ve done well, Draco,” she praised. “The Dark Lord is most pleased. You will be rewarded.”

“Thank you, Aunt Bella.”

Whatever else was said between them, Sabine didn’t hear, but the woman came into view once more, beaming, and her oddly purplish eyes alight with joy.

“What did the Dark Lord say?” Lucius asked nervously.

“That they are to be locked up, and you are to proceed with your part of the plan. I am to go with you to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

“I can handle it myself, Bella!”

“Well, the Dark Lord does not seem to think so,” the woman giggled. “Come, Lucius. He wants it done immediately.”

It appeared as though following her was the last thing Lucius Malfoy wished to do, but with no choice, he did so, shooting his wife something of a look of comfort before leaving her to attend to the latest prisoners.

Already, the basement was nearly full, and with the addition of five more, only a few more cells would remain.

Sabine did not doubt they would be filled soon enough, and whoever it was that found themselves here would likely never see the light of day again; just like her, and two others who’d already been dragged away, and not returned.

(Break)

The magic imbued into the ring was exceptional.

It was designed to be subtle until it was exposed, and it would then attempt to overwhelm the person that had discovered. The compulsion charm was like nothing else Harry had encountered, and the underlying rotting curse was almost always fatal unless it was revered immediately after coming into contact with it.

Fortunately, Harry was able to remove both, but not the piece of Riddle’s soul remained within it as steadfast as the diary he had in his possession already.

What he was focused on now, however, was the stone, and more importantly, how it had not been affected by the creation of the horcrux.

Perhaps the magic itself had rejected the soul piece, or Tom had paid no attention to it.

What Harry had deduced, however, was that it remained as intended, and only the thick, gold band had been compromised.

Casting several more spells at it to ensure his findings were correct, he carefully removed the small stone and placed it on the table in front of him.

What it was made from, he didn’t know, but it was innocuous enough except for the magic he could feel almost calling to him, much like the wand and cloak.

All three Hallows.

He didn’t believe the story so far to think that he was now the Master of Death of some invincible being because he had acquired the trio in full, but there was magic at play here Harry had no understanding of.

Were they truly created by Death itself, or just three brilliant wizards who’d created things no other had yet managed to replicate the same way?

That was merely one of dozens of questions Harry had, and as he reached for the stone to take a closer look, he was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a familiar patronus, that spoke urgently.

“Harry, Cornelius Fudge is dead, and the Ministry of Magic has been compromised. The Order is gathering at Grimmauld Place!”

He released a deep breath as he absorbed the news delivered to him by his godfather.

Harry had known this day would likely come but knowing it and experiencing the sense of dread that filled him was something else entirely.

With a shake of his head, he prepared to make his way to Grimmauld Place, placing the stone inside the holster he kept the elder wand.

(Break)

He tapped his foot impatiently under the table whilst he waited for the others to arrive. It had been Tonks and Kingsley who had informed him of what had happened to Fudge, and though they had been short on details, they were left in no doubt the Minister had been murdered.

As useless as he was, the ramifications of it weren’t lost on Sirius.

“What’s going to happen?” Lily asked.

Sirius shook his head.

“That depends on many things,” he answered gravely, “but I doubt the Dark Lord would’ve done it if he didn’t have a plan in place.”

She nodded, and the two of them said nothing else.

Alastor was the first to arrive, and he was followed by the Weasleys, Emmeline, Elphias Doge, and Minerva, who wore a similar expression to his own.

Eventually, a breathless Tonks arrived, followed by Harry, who looked more tired than Sirius had seen him.

The boy waved him off, and it was Tonks who spoke.

“I don’t have long before I have to be back, but what I do know is that Fudge and his wife were both killed at his home. There are signs of forced entry, and but there wasn’t much of a struggle. Fudge was killed in his study, and his wife in their bed.”

“So, he knew at least one of them,” Sirius said darkly. “There aren’t many that could get to him like that.”

Tonks nodded her agreement.

“The problem is, the house is saturated in magic, and it is impossible to figure out who was there. It may have only been one person, or a dozen. The Magical Catastrophes team are working on it, but it’s not looking good. I’ll let you know anything else I can find out.”

Sirius nodded appreciatively.

“It makes no sense,” Molly broke in. “Why would they kill him?”

“Because a neutral Minister is just as useless and dangerous as one against them. Fudge is unpredictable, and he could swing either way. The problem is, men like him will go to an extreme, and that is the last thing Voldemort wants. He is a control freak, and anything outside of his influence is of no use to him,” Harry answered. “This is just the beginning. He will have a plan in place, and now, we will see what that is. Who will be given power?”

“An emergency meeting will be called to decide that. For now, Britain is without a leader, which works out for him more than it does us. If a deciding vote cannot be cast, then the Wizengamot will govern collectively until such a time that a new Minister is decided by a majority.”

“And given how the votes have been cast recently, there won’t be a unanimous decision,” Arthur interjected.

“Exactly,” Sirius murmured. “Either way, this is bad, and…”

He frowned as he felt a disturbance within himself, and judging by Minerva’s sudden expression of concern, she too felt it.

“Hogwarts!”

He hurried from the room, followed by the others that had gathered, until they reached his study.

“Phineas?” he called urgently.

The former headmaster appeared in his portrait, and uncharacteristically sagged in relief, his expression grim.

“What is happening?” Sirius asked.

“Pomona and Filius are waiting in your office. Five students are missing from the castle. There is no sign of them.”

“Which students?”

“Ernest Macmillan, Hanah Abbott, Zacharias Smith, Terry Boot, and Susan Bones.”

Sirius frowned before his eyes widened in realisation.

“And there are the votes he will need,” Harry said darkly. “Each of those students have prominent family members on the Wizengamot.”

Sirius nodded.

“How?”

“There is one other student unaccounted for, Headmaster,” Phineas chimed in. “Draco Malfoy.”

Sirius could only shake his head.

“I’m coming through,” he declared. “Minerva, the castle is to be put under a strict lockdown until we can figure out exactly what has happened. Harry, I could use you.”

His godson nodded as he drew his wand, and Sirius Black threw a handful of floo powder into the fire, wondering just how one single night had gone so badly.