A Promise Kept - Chapter 56 - A Brief Return

A Brief Return

With it only being seven pm, Knockturn Alley was already emptying under the supervision of men and women dressed in black robes with a gold Ministry of Magic label on the left breast of their robes.

Well, that was what was happening on the surface, but Harry had come to know the alley well enough that whatever was happening here tonight; underground duelling, private club gatherings, and even illicit trade, would still be continuing as normal.

That was both the beauty and difficulty of such places existing.

The curfew implemented by the Ministry did not prevent these things entirely, not for those that were exceptions to the rule, at least. No, Harry did not doubt they would still be able to use the floo network freely, and even portkeys to break the curfew forced upon others who could not afford such luxuries.

Besides, he did not doubt that the floo network was being monitored closer than usual by Yaxley’s administration, and even on his way here, it did not escape his notice that each of the arrival points in Diagon Alley were being supervised.

Still, life in Knockturn Alley went on, which only confirmed what Harry already knew.

The curfew had only been implemented to establish control over the masses, and as most were sheep, they would comply without question, even if the reason for it being introduced in the first place was utterly ridiculous.

For the most part, werewolves were only dangerous during the full moon, something that seemed to have escaped the notice of most, or they simply chose to accept what was forced upon them to avoid the inevitable repercussions that would follow.

Thus far, Harry had seen a group of men receive a fine from those in black robes, and even one of them hauled away.

What had become of him, Harry didn’t know, but he doubted he was only given a stern talking to and sent on his way.

No, Britain was taking a dark a turn, and it would only get darker still with more draconian and prejudiced laws being put in place.

Come July, he would reach his majority, but by then, Harry doubted there was anything that he would be able to do politically to change anything.

Riddle would be aware of this, and he expected other changes to come thick and fast to prevent just that, and with it, more disappearances to ensure there was no resistance to face.

For those that still refused to accept the changes in regime… well, Harry suspected they wouldn’t be long for the world.

He shook his head beneath his cloak as he drew his wand.

It wasn’t his intention to draw attention to himself, but the people of Britain needed to know that there were those still fighting against these changes, against the oppression, and what he suspected would become an outright hostile government to most who dared not fight back the same way.

The werewolf attack had just been the beginning, after all, and more would soon come.

Reaching a trio of men in black robes, he began his work and retreated to the safety of his flat when it was done to observe the chaos from afar, having learned from his previous errors.

After only a few moments of waiting, a half-smile crested his lips as a collective scream escaped theirs.

Now donning clown outfits with shoes made of ice, they were sent skidding down the length of Diagon Alley before crashing into the boarded-up apothecary with a series of loud thuds, where they lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

Hopefully, there would be a few broken bones to tend to, and though it wasn’t all that Harry wished to inflict upon them, it would do for now until he was ready to begin taking them out permanently.

He would make them regret taking up their positions to bully the members of the public, and although Riddle now certainly held an advantage in many ways, Harry would ensure the man knew that not a day would go by that his plans were not disrupted by him, at the very least.

A much more acceptable series of events would be that each day, Harry would somehow ruin Tom’s.

“Causing trouble, Harry?”

He smiled at the sight of the man sitting in one of the chairs by the fire.

“Would I do that?”

Reg chuckled amusedly.

“Yes, you would, and I expect nothing less from you. Now, take a seat. I have a story to share with you of how your grandfather led a group of us to liberate Denmark during Grindelwald’s grasp for power on the continent. I think you’ll like this one, and there is much you can learn from it.”

(Break)

“For now, everything is proceeding as you anticipated, my lord. Those that are trying to flout the curfew are being dealt with swiftly, and they are decreasing with each passing day.”

Lord Voldemort nodded satisfactorily.

Greyback was not happy with losing more than a dozen of his pack, but sacrifices would need to be made from time to time to see to his goals.

Besides, it wasn’t as though he couldn’t’ simply replenish his ranks, and the Dark Lord suspected he would do just that come the next full moon.

Potter’s intervention, however, had proven to be problematic.

Unlike most, he did not fear the Dark Lord nor his followers. It was a foolish state of mind, of course, but until the two of them settled the prophecy, and Potter was dead, he would continue to be a thorn in his side, which begged the question plaguing him.

Why was the boy so damned self-assured in himself?

Was there something in the prophecy that had given him such confidence?

Without it, the Dark Lord remained blind to much, and though he knew he it was unlikely he would discover the full contents of the blasted mutterings of a seer, he would not be detracted from his plans.

It had been more than fifteen years now that he’d made his gravest error, and he had no intention of waiting longer than necessary, not when he’d seized an incredible advantage over his enemies.

“Then I see no reason not to proceed once more, Corban. You know what to do.”

“I will send for Macnair,” Yaxley responded, offering a bow before taking his leave of the room.

The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair.

All was going almost as well as he’d hoped, and expected, but there was still much to do. There were those that continued to defy him, persisted on resisting the hold he had over them.

That would change, when the time was right.

The Ministry was his, and soon enough, he would have complete control over the men, women, and children of magical Britain. When that was so, he would take the jewel from the crown of the country and claim Hogwarts for himself.

When he had the castle in his grasp, and Potter dead at his feet, that was when he knew that victory was truly his. Until then, the war would continue in vain, but along the way, he would watch as each of those that opposed him were toppled.

Already, Amelia Bones had been all but removed from the conflict, along with the majority of the Lords and Ladies that might prove to be difficult.

Even so, the country was very much in a delicate balance, tipping in his favour the more he achieved, and yet, he could not rid himself of the quiet discomfort that haunted him so.

The easy part was done but had not been so easy to see it so.

Now, the hard work truly began, and with it many obstacles that would be thrown into his path by who Fate had decreed was to be his greatest foe.

(Break)

It appeared as though magical Britain had been all but abandoned.

His father didn’t do much business here, but he’d brought Marcus along more than decade ago to see a few of the famous stores in Diagon Alley. He remembered visiting Florean Fortescue’s and sampling the ice cream and even having a strange chat with Mr Ollivander himself regarding his wand.

He’d also purchased his holster from the man, an exceptional cut of Hebridean Black dragon leather that looked as new now as the day he’d received it.

Now, however, most of the shops were boarded up,, some with signs diverting customers to an owl delivery service, and others simply empty.

Of the three he could see still trading, one appeared to be a joke shop of sorts, and yet, the uplifting music, humorous posters, and whimsical products on offer could not lift the mood of the street.

The tension was palpable, foreboding, and as Marcus ventured further towards the bank, away any sign of life, he could feel something in the air, a lingering that made him shudder.

“Oi, what the hell are you doing here?” a voice demanded, pulling him from his thoughts.

To men in red robes approached with their wands drawn, both edgy and seemingly needing no excuse to attack if he gave them a reason.

“I was just looking around,” Marcus answered.

“A bloody yank,” one of the men chuckled. “If I were you, I’d go home, lad. There’s nothing here for foreigners right now.”

“What happened?”

The man looked towards the other before his gaze flitted across the length and breadth of the street.

“Are you taking the piss?” he asked, “or do you bloody well live under a rock?”

“He’s a yank,” the other reminded him. “He probably has no idea.”

Marcus did. Of course he did, but he wanted to hear it for himself from one of the locals.

“You’re probably right, Jones. Well, in case you haven’t heard, the Dark Lord is back, and he’s kicking up one hell of a stink. We had a werewolf attack not so long ago, and the Ministry of Magic is still closed to the public after him and Potter tore down half of the building between them.”

“Potter?”

“Harry Potter,” the man said in a little more than a whisper. “From what I heard, he got the better of the fight that night.”

“Shut up, Clay,” the other man hissed. “You don’t want any of his lot hearing you say that.”

“You’re not wrong, lad,” Jones agreed. “Come on, we will escort you out of here. Diagon Alley is the last place you want to be, well, except for Knockturn Alley. You probably wouldn’t make it out of there alive. We’ll take you through the Leaky Cauldron, and if you want my advice, you’ll go back to where you came from. There’s nothing here for you, mate.”

Marcus said nothing as the two Aurors escorted him to the top of the alley, offering him only a nod towards the rear entrance of a bar before continuing on their way.

“What if I need to go somewhere else?” he called after them.

“Call for the Knight Bus,” Clay answered. “Just hold your wand out in front of you, and it will come.”

“The Knight Bus,” Marcus murmured as he stepped through the empty bar, offering the barman who was eyeing him suspiciously a nod before exiting onto the mundane street on the other side.

He’d heard of the Knight Bus, and though he couldn’t remember exactly what it was that had been said about the form of transport, he knew it was best he didn’t draw any more attention to himself than he already had.

No, he knew of a village not so far from the school, so that was where he would head, to Hogsmeade before finishing his journey on foot, where he hoped Sirius Black would be willing to meet with him.

(Break)

“The curfew is ridiculous,” Andromeda huffed, her gaze shifting towards the clock on the wall in the kitchen. “Some nights, Ted isn’t finished until nine, sometimes ten.”

“I think the curfew will be the least of our worries,” Lily sighed.

Andromeda nodded gravely, perking up as the fireplace in the adjoining living room flared into life.

“Ted?” she called.

“It’s just me, Mum,” Tonks announced as she joined them. “Dad is cutting it fine tonight, isn’t he?”

Andromeda nodded.

“Well, whoever is watching his office will have other things on their minds. Three of Yaxley’s team were victims of an attack not so long ago.”

Lily looked towards the Auror who nodded knowingly.

“What did he do?” she asked.

“Transfigured their clothes so they resembled muggle clowns…”

“That’s not so bad,” Andromeda comforted.

“And their shoes into blocks of ice. They found themselves crashing into the side of the apothecary. Two of them are in St Mungo’s having some bones put right, and the other quit on the spot.”

“How many is that now?”

“Eleven,” Tonks answered amusedly.

Lily shook her head.

She was proud of Harry and all he was doing, but her mothering instinct was to do all she could to protect him. She’d accepted long ago that no matter how much older or stronger he became, that would never fade.

“Did you ever find out what he was up to when the werewolves attacked?”

“What he was up to?” Andromeda asked curiously.

“Harry arrived looking dishevelled in a mismatched outfit,” Tonks informed her mother.

Andromeda quirked an eyebrow in response.

“No, but it doesn’t take much thinking to figure it out,” Lily grumbled. “He’s more like Sirius at that age than I expected, but I probably should have. Six close female friends and only one boy. It was only going to go one way or the other.”

Tonks failed to hide her smirk, and Andromeda looked at her disapprovingly.

“Which one do you think it was?”

“Other than Isabelle, who is quite taken with Wendell, honestly, it could be any of them.”

“Or more than one of them.”

Lily grimaced at the thought.

“I do not need those images, thank you.”

She didn’t.

To her, Harry was still the same innocent boy who’d be content sitting with the various creatures around the ranch, not becoming intimate with girls.

She knew it was a ridiculous trail of thought, but she preferred it to the alternative.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re back,” Andromeda greeted her tired husband as he entered the kitchen.

“It’s getting bloody worse,” Ted muttered irritably. “I had them in my office until I all but threw them out just now. They want me to slip up by not leaving on time, but I won’t bloody well have it.”

Andromeda led the man to one of the chairs around the table.

“I’m thinking I might just work from home unless I need to be in the office.”

“I’d prefer it if you did.”

Ted nodded as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Did you hear about the three that had a little accident?” he asked.

Nymphadora nodded.

“I suppose that was Harry’s work again.”

“Well, they can’t prove it, and with the Weasley’s shop nearby…”

“Have you seen them?” Lily asked.

“I pop in when I can. They’re not so good. Bill’s funeral is next week.”

Lily nodded sadly.

She didn’t know Bill Weasley well. He’d arrived at Hogwarts as a first year when she was in her seventh, but the Order was feeling his loss. Three of them had been killed so far, and the war felt as though it was barely beginning.

It was a bad omen, but if Voldemort had his way, the entire Order would be slaughtered, along with any other that might even think of resisting his efforts.

“Well, the Ministry isn’t so good either,” Tonks sighed. “No one is talking, and every day, they all become just that bit more paranoid. No one knows who they can trust anymore.”

“That’s exactly how it was last time,” Lily replied, “and that is why he came so close to winning. He isolated everyone, even from their loved ones. There was a time I thought Sirius might join him, and it turned out Peter had.”

“Oh, I remember Sirius being very keen to catch up with him,” Ted mused aloud. “Has he even been seen?”

Lily released a deep breath as she nodded.

“He’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Harry captured him months ago. He wasn’t very forthcoming with the details, but he promised Sirius he’d suffered for what he’d done.”

“Good,” Andromeda said firmly. “Whatever it was Harry did, he deserved it.”

They fell silent for a moment before Nymphadora broke it.

“You know, it’s hard to imagine the little Harry I knew before he went to school doing anything like that. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen what happened in the Ministry, or to the werewolves.”

“It will be worse for Voldemort,” Lily predicted. “When Harry finally gets his hands on him, really gets his hands on him, Merlin knows what he is going to do.”

“Not enough, in my eyes,” Andromeda snorted. “Oh, James was a pain in the backside, as were many of those that have been killed, but none of them deserved what he has done to this country. No, there is no amount of suffering that can be done to him that will ever be enough.”

Lily couldn’t agree more, but once again found herself wishing that it wasn’t the responsibility of her son, even if he did seem to be oddly thriving in a time of war.

Maybe he truly was born for this kind of thing, after all.

(Break)

“The Creature Registration Act will ensure that all werewolves, and other humanoid creatures will be accounted for. Those in breach of the law to not register, will face criminal charges. To supervise the smooth rollout of this act, I have named Walden Macnair and Dolores Umbridge as the joint Heads of the Department. I urge the members of the public to cooperate fully with them and their efforts. It is for your safety, after all.”

“And that was the voice of Minister Yaxley unveiling the latest change in law since he assumed office. After this short interval, I will be joined by Griphook, a senior teller of Gringotts, who will share his thoughts.”

Sirius frowned as a song began to play and flicked his wand towards the wireless to silence it.

On the surface, the new law implemented by Yaxley was not so nefarious, but it was certainly unfair and would cause problems with many of the creatures who would take exception to it.

The goblins would be furious, the centaurs simply would not comply, and if there were any vampires, Veela, or just about any other creature, they too would not be so pleased.

No, it wasn’t so simple.

Voldemort didn’t care about such things.

What this was made no sense, nor would it serve the man, but Sirius did not doubt it was leading to something that would. What that was, remained to be seen, and it only gave him something else to be concerned about.

Voldemort was a purposeful man, after all, not wasteful in his efforts, so all he did was in aid of his goal to seize control of Britain in its entirety.

Cursing under his breath, Sirius leaned back in his chair, only to sit up straight a moment later as he heard a commotion on the staircase leading to his office.

At first, he thought that perhaps another student was being brought before him to discuss a transgression of sorts, but since he’d summarily expelled Millicent Bulstrode, all had become rather subdued, for now.

No, the two voice were of adult men, one of whom he knew well enough, but the second, he could not place.

“Come in, Hagrid,” he called as a thunderous knock sounded at the door.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow at the enormous man as he entered, carrying another under his arm as though he were a petulant child.

“I found this one lurking by the gate,” Hagrid explained.

“I wasn’t lurking, I just didn’t know how to get anyone’s attention. The next thing I knew, he was pointing a crossbow at me!”

“You’re American,” Sirius realised, standing with a frown adorning his features.

“Marcus Van Droombeeld, heir of the Van Droombeeld family,” he introduced himself.

Sirius remembered his brief encounter with the man’s father when Harry had been a second-year student at Ilvermorny, and this man certainly had a familiar resemblance to him.

“Release him, Hagrid,” he instructed, “and thank you. Oh, and Hagrid, did anyone else see you bring him in?”

“No, all of the students are in bed.”

“Let us keep that, and please do let him go. It’s quite unbecoming to leave a man of his station dangling like that.”

Reluctantly, he did so, shooting a warning glance to the man before taking his leave of the office.

“Where did you find him?” Marcus coughed.

“Oh, Hagrid has been here longer than most,” Sirius said dismissively. “Believe it or not, he is the gentlest man I know.”

“I don’t think I will believe it, if it’s all the same to you.”

Sirius chuckled before remembering who it was he was talking to.

“I don’t suppose you came all this way for anything pleasant. Has something happened I need to be aware of?”

The man’s expression fell as he nodded.

“I need to speak with Harry Potter. My father was very specific about that, but I do not see the harm in sharing this with you. On my travels here, I’ve heard and seen for myself what is going on, and the part you have been playing in resisting it.”

He shook his head as he removed a piece of parchment and stared at it for a moment.

“It’s my sister, Sabine,” he choked.

Sirius had met the girl, knew that she and Harry had been very fond of one another.

He’d not mentioned her for some time, and if Lily was right, he’d been seeing other girls more recently.

“Is she pregnant?” he asked worriedly.

Marcus shook his head.

“I suppose that would be much easier than this,” he whispered, handing Sirius the parchment.

Marcus,

You will remember my dealings with Lucius Malfoy.

It came to my attention that his efforts were on behalf of Lord Voldemort, and before I could withdraw from further business, Sabine was taken. I do not know where she is being held, nor whether or not she is still alive, but you must get this message to Harry Potter.

I am being watched too closely by someone posing as our guards, and even as your sister to act against them in any capacity.

If there is anyone that understands what we are against, it is Harry Potter.

It is my understanding that he has returned to Britain, and I do not expect he will be so easy to reach. Sirius Black, the boys’ godfather is the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Go there and do so with due haste.

“Well, shit,” Sirius cursed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Oh, this is going to be bad.”

Marcus looked at him in a mixture of worry and confusion.

“Bad?”

Sirius nodded.

“I don’t suppose you know that Harry and your sister were close.”

“Close? In what way?”

`Sirius shot him a pointed look, and Marcus’s eyes widened, confirming he knew nothing of the sort.

“I see,” he murmured, “but Sabine has been arranged to marry one of the Winthrops since before she could walk…ah, I suppose that is why everything was quite tense at home a while back. I didn’t think it was anything beyond this,” he added, nodding towards the parchment.

“No, they were very fond of each other.”

“So, why is that bad? Does it mean he won’t help her?”

Sirius chuckled humourlessly as he made his way around the desk. Retrieving two glasses, he poured them both a generous measure of Firewhiskey and handed one to the other man.

“It is bad because when I tell him about this, he will tear through the entire country until he finds her if that is what it takes. He will somehow find a way of blaming himself for this happening, and, well, I suppose you will have to wait and see, but he is not going to take this well. When he catches up with Malfoy and anyone else involved…”

He broke off and took a sip of his whiskey, knowing he could not bring himself to delay telling Harry what he’d just learned, but equally knowing that when he did, the boys’ anger would be nothing short of explosive.

“Oh dear, Lucius, you may have just signed your own death warrant this time,” he sighed, drawing his wand, and preparing himself for the arrival of a seething godson baying for blood.

For now, he would not inform the Order.

No, this was a personal matter for the most part, and as troubling as the kidnapping of Sabine Van Droombeeld was, it had not escaped Sirius that someone was posing as the young woman in a school full of children across the ocean on behalf of the Dark Lord.

(Break)

He once more found himself holding the stone in the palm of his hand, tempted to use it, but equally reticent. Having spent much of the day with Reg Yaxley learning more about the war against Grindelwald, it was difficult to put the monster in the stories with the image of the old, frail man he’d visited in Nurmengard.

Oh, Harry did not doubt the tales of his grandfather’s friend, nor did he believe Grindelwald to be a paragon of virtue, but merely hearing of his exploits gave him something of a distance to them.

Still, it was not so much those stories that led him to sitting in front of his fireplace clutching the stone.

No, it was not having met Charlus Potter for himself that inspired his contemplative mood.

Meeting James Potter was certainly not something he was ready for, but could the same be said of his grandparents?

Not even his mother had been able to tell him much about them, and he could not deny his curiosity.

Even so, he hesitated, not wanting to use the stone in a way that would cause them despair if whatever remained of them he called upon was not aware of what had happened these past years.

Nonetheless, he found himself here, truly considering it, perhaps a little selfishly, but maybe it was one fo those things he needed in life.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed as his thoughts were interrupted by Sirius’s patronus.

“Harry, I need you at Hogwarts. I have opened the floo for you.”

He frowned at the brief message, but did not delay his departure.

Sirius would not have sent for him without good reason, and he wondered just what had happened at the school now.

Had Draco returned, or was something else amiss?

Knowing he would get no answers until he arrived, Harry ensured he had everything with him he might need before throwing a handful of floo into the fireplace and stepping through it.

He was greeted by the sight of his pacing godfather, and a man he didn’t know, but there was something familiar about him.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked.

Sirius shook his head and hesitated to hand him a piece of parchment he was holding.

“I need you to promise you will stay calm and think about this.”

“Now that you’ve said that, you know I can’t promise.”

Sirius released a deep breath as Harry snatched the parchment, his blood running cold as he read it.

Reading it again, he felt a myriad of emotions from confusion to anger, to worry before settling on righteous fury. One slip of parchment had changed so much in his mind, but there were two things he was tonr between.

The first, of course, was that Sabine had been taken by Voldemort, or by Malfoy. No matter whom it was, she was in danger. Secondly, someone, and Harry had a suspicion of just who, was posing as the girl at Ilvermorny, and that was something he needed to deal with immediately.

If he was fortunate, that would lead to solving the first of the problems, which would undoubtedly be as reckless, perhaps foolish, and as dangerous as anything else he’d undertaken.

Sabine would be being held somewhere secure, and only two places came to mind: the Riddle home or Malfoy Manor.

Riddle would not entrust her to just anyone, and with Draco’s involvement in the disappearance of five students from Hogwarts, Harry was erring towards the latter.

The problem he faced other than the obvious ones he’d need to tackle was just how he would get in there.

The cloak could be useful, but no, it would unlikely get him through any protections around and within the home.

He would need another strategy, a way in that would mitigate the threat of the protections, or a way to draw Malfoy to him.

Already, he was wracking his brains for answers, and only one step came to mind.

“Where are you going?” Sirius asked as he made his way towards the door.

“Where the fuck do you think I’m going?” he snapped. “I’m going to get her back.”

Wrapping his cloak around himself, he removed his portkey in anticipation of activating it, not forgetting that he couldn’t do so in Hogwarts, unless it was in the hidden room that Draco had been given access to.

Harry would find it himself soon enough, but for now, there was only one place he needed to be, somewhere his friends were in danger, where one of Voldemort’s most trusted waited, not expecting their day was about to take a most unpleasant turn.

(Break)

“We must remember to order in more boomslang skin, and vials for the potions department,” Agilbert reminded his Heads of Houses as he made a note of it.

Fortunately, the school year was proceeding without so many problems.

The Wampus Quodpot team were not happy that they’d last their star player and captain, and their rather dismal performance in their first match reflected that.

Other than the usual issues that came with running the school, all was going as well as he could he hope, a little too well if anything.

The thought caused a frown to crease his brow, and Agilbert shook his head.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” he asked.

When none spoke, he offered them a smile as he stood, dismissing them with a nod.

The professors left, and Agilbert took a seat behind his desk to tend to one of the many other things that required his attention. Ilvermorny was an enormous school, with hundreds of students to cater to, and not a day went by that he didn’t receive letters from concerned parents, from MACUSA, or a number of other organisations he worked with to fulfil his duties.

It truly was an incredibly busy undertaking just to see the castle function each day; something he’d not truly appreciated until he’d accepted the post he currently occupied.

“Who’s there?” he asked suddenly, sensing a disturbance within the room.

It was subtle, almost indiscernible, but his years as an Auror had taught him to never ignore even the slightest of changes, and certainly not his instincts.

Even so, Agilbert cursed loudly as the familiar young man appeared before him, taken aback by his arrival seemingly from thin air.

“Potter, what are you doing here?” he asked.

His expression was grave, and Agilbert could see his was doing his utmost to remain calm, to not let his composure slip, but he could see it in Harry Potter’s eyes that he was experiencing more emotions than he could process at one time.

“We have a problem,” he said sombrely.

“We do?”

He nodded and began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, taking a moment to calm himself as best he could.

“I’ve been listening out for any news,” Agilbert spoke, “but there isn’t much, not anything good anyway. Of course, we saw the photos of what happening in the Ministry of Magic…”

Harry chuckled.

“There is so much more that has been made known to the public,” he sighed, “but that isn’t why I am here, well, it is, but not in such an obvious way. One of Voldemort’s Death Eaters is here.”

Agilbert’s demeanour immediately shifted, and he drew his wand in anticipation.

“Where?”

“Posing as one of the students. I have come to take him off your hands before getting her back.”

“Who is it?”

“Sabine Van Droombeeld.”

Agilbert frowned.

He did not know the girl so well, no more than any other student, at least, but of course, he was aware of the family. How the Van Droombeelds had found themselves caught up in whatever was happening in Britain was beyond him, but that didn’t matter, not when the lives of his students were in peril.

“You have a plan.”

Potter nodded.

“I have a plan, and I will need your help.”

(Break)

Acting as a seventeen-year-old girl had become rather tiresome quickly for Barty and were it not for the Dark Lord’s insistence he must continue with the charade, he would’ve left Ilvermorny weeks ago.

Teenagers were irksome beings.

If they were not complaining about their impending exams, they spoke only of boys, and what they would do at the end of the school year.

The Van Droombeeld girl’s circle of friends were as dull as can be, each of them preparing for their weddings, solidifying the relationships between their families for another generation.

Still, Barty’s lot in life was not so bad, not compared to what it had been like only a few years prior.

Day in and day out, he’d been isolated to a single room, his only company being that of the house elf that watched over him.

He grimaced at the thought as he continued completing the girl’s homework.

Much to his chagrin, Sabine Van Droombeeld was a dedicated student, who scored highly in all of her subjects, meaning he needed to maintain her grades so not to arouse suspicion.

“Miss Van Droombeeld, a word, please,” a voice called across the common room.

Barty frowned as he gathered up his things.

He’d not spoken much to Professor Collins, the Head of the year group, but given the woman taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, one of the Van Droombeeld girl’s better subjects, he could only imagine she wished to discuss the project he’d handed in only the previous day.

The woman gave nothing away as she gestured for him to follow, and Barty closed the door to the common room as he exited.

“Is something wrong, Professor Collins?”

The woman smiled.

“No, I just wanted to discuss a few things with you about your assignment. I must say, I was quite impressed with it.”

“Oh,” Barty replied, internally breathing a sigh of relief, though that was short-lived as something impacted against the side of his head, and he was taken by the darkness.

When he woke, his temples were pounding, and he quickly realised that he was no longer in Ilvermorny, but a home, and the blurry figure in front of him was unmoving as he stared into Barty’s eyes.

“Potter,” he whispered in realisation before laughing amusedly. “You know she will die now, don’t you.”

His expression remained impassive, but Barty did not miss the burning anger in his eyes.

“Maybe,” he conceded, “but losing those I care about is nothing new, is it? What you should be concerned with, Crouch, is that you are here with me, and I have all the time in the world to get what I need from you.”

Barty laughed once more.

“I will tell you nothing!” he spat.

Potter merely quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You’re weak, Barty, and you years under your father’s control has only made you more so. You see, I know men like you, Crouch. You think you are tough, that your loyalty is unwavering, but when it comes to it, you will you choose yourself over any, just like your master. Oh, you didn’t think you were truly important to him, did you?”

“The Dark Lord places me above all others…”

“Of course he does,” Potter cut in. “You’re his most loyal follower, and you would never betray him. I know the spiel, Barty, and I know him. You mean nothing, but it doesn’t matter if you do. The next moments of your life will be your last, and they will be miserable. Tom has crossed a line, twice now, in fact, and it is high time he learned that I am not someone to fuck with.”

Barty watched as Potter removed a trio trunks from within his robes, opening each and placing them on the floor, just far enough away that he could not see what was in them.

Rifling through them, he nodded as he removed an odd contraption.

“I never did get to use this on Wormtail. Between passing out from the broken burn and torn flesh, I didn’t quite get this far. I’ll begin with this.”

Barty frowned as Potter removed his boots with a wave of his wand and elevated his legs so he was in an crude seated position with the soles of his feet facing forward.

“This really is going to hurt a lot.”

He pressed a button on the object he held, and a blue flame burst from the metal nozzle.

Before Barty could ponder what it was in his hand, he felt the heat of the flame on his feet and screamed.

The air was filled with the smell of his burning flesh, and by the time Potter relented, he was on the brink of losing consciousness once more.

“Oh, no, Barty, we can’t have you missing a second of this,” Potter spoke.

He felt something being forced down his throat, and Barty suddenly felt more alert, and more aware of the agony.

“Now, where is he keeping the prisoners?” Potter asked.

“I won’t tell you,” Barty answered, his voice hoarse from the screaming.

“You know, I’m glad you said that,” Potter said with a grin, “but you won’t be.”

Another scream was torn from his lungs as Potter grabbed him by the chin and began burning his right eye.

It was like nothing Barty had ever felt before, and yet, before he did lose consciousness, he felt something crush his wand hand with a force that removed three of his fingers.

His discarded digits was the last thing he saw before he succumbed to the blackness invading his vision, and his final thought was that he hoped he never woke up to be greeted by whatever it was Potter had done to him.