A Promise Kept - Chapter 64 - Majority

Majority

There was nothing left of what had been a stately home, save for the lingering smell of burning wood and stone, with an unmistakeable tinge of scorched flesh.

There was blood too.

Harry had become accustomed to the smell of it, but it never failed to elicit a grimace from him.

The other two homes he and Tonks visited in the past hour had been left in much the same state, with no survivors to speak of.

Those who had miraculously survived the explosions were mercilessly cut down with the killing curse, and their bodies left strewn about the lawn, dispatched and discarded without a second thought.

That was the very nature of the Dark Lord, who Harry could sense lurking somewhere nearby.

Tonight, however, Tom was content with his work, savouring his victory, and milking it for all he could.

He had no intention of attacking further. No, he would be giving himself quite the pat on the back for his efforts and looking on with no small amount of glee at the misery he had created.

Three families.

Men, women, and children who should be safe in their homes.

It was not lost on Harry that he was almost such a victim himself, and it had only been the greatest of fortune that had seen him and his mother live to tell the tale.

Those here had not shared in that luck.

“Get them out of here, Gawain,” Amelia Bones sighed, gesturing to the bodies that had been laid in a neat line across a part of the lawn that had not been reduced to ash.

There were seven of them in all.

Five children, and a mother and father that had made up the Davis family, which was no more thanks to one man who claimed to be a beacon for the pureblood families to follow.

Three families wiped out in the space of a single evening.

“What a mess,” Harry murmured.

He did not miss Amelia Bones watching as the Aurors began to move the bodies of the Davis family, and she did so with an almost empty gaze.

“The last time I saw anything like this was the night I found Susan’s parents. Their home was left just like this. I’d been babysitting her to give them time to go for dinner together. She has been with me since then.”

Her voice was hollow as she relived the trauma of what she’d experienced for herself.

“What are we going to do, Potter? He truly is a monster.”

“He is,” Harry agreed, “and there is only one thing we can do. We have to take the fight to him with none of this political bollocks holding us back. He is not in the Wizengamot pleading a case, he is on the streets spilling blood. Fighting him proactively is the only way.”

Bones nodded.

“But the Wizengamot is where all of that begins.”

“Only for those who care about it.”

He had no intention of finding himself a wanted man, although for all intents and purpose, he already was.

Yaxley was the Minister who answered to Voldemort, who wanted nothing more than to tear the final breath from Harry’s lungs.

It was rather surprising that he’d not been labelled wanted by the Ministry of Magic itself, especially with all he’d done since arriving back in Britain.

His gaze drifted to the tally on the wall.

That alone would see him serving several life sentences without any prospect of freedom if Britain wasn’t at war, but then again, Harry wouldn’t be doing what he was if it wasn’t.

“Strange times,” he sighed, frowning as an owl began tapping on his window.

Opening it to admit the creature, he relieved it of the missive it carried, and he watched as it flew down the length of Diagon Alley.

Seeing the familiar crest used to seal the envelope, Harry’s gaze shifted towards the clock.

“Well, that didn’t take long.”

It was only a few minutes after midnight, and now officially his seventeenth birthday.

He’d thought that he’d perhaps feel differently when he came of age, but that wasn’t so. Harry felt much the same, and yet, in the last passing moments, he had become responsible for his house that had somehow managed to survive the duration of Voldemort’s rise to power, Grindelwald’s on the continent, and all else that had come before it.

“Seventeen,” he sighed as he opened the letter, unfolding it to read what Gringotts wanted with him.

To Lord Harry James Potter,

I would like to personally congratulate you on reaching your majority and introduce myself.

My name is Garnuff, the account manager for the Potter family, a position I have held for more than a century now.

I had the pleasure of serving your father before you, his father, Lord Charlus, and his Father, Lord William, all of whom I remember fondly.

I would appreciate if you could set some time aside to meet with me at your convenience so that we may discuss the state of your house and interests.

I am at your disposal.

Garnuff

Account Manager for the Potter Family

It was an oddly polite request from such a creature, and Harry suspected that the goblin had a vested interest in his success. Goblins cared for little in the world save for wealth, and there was certainly no love lost between them and humans.

Even so, Harry had been raised to understand the importance of their role in banking, and he was very interested in learning more about his family, though what he could glean from the bank, he wasn’t sure, but something was better than nothing.

Besides, the Potter accounts had been all but neglected for the past fifteen years, and he needed to know the state of his finances.

Sirius was certain all would be well, that the Potters had always been rather savvy with their gold and investments.

Harry, however, needed to see it for himself to be so assured.

Still, it would wait until the morning.

He needed to rest after yet another trying evening before meeting with Garnuff and fully assuming the responsibilities expected of him as the last Potter male.

(Break)

It had been another long night.

He’d hoped with the summer holiday having arrived some weeks prior, that he’d be granted something of a reprieve from all the work required of him, but between continuing to run the school, his duties as the Lord of his family, to the Wizengamot, and the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius felt as though he barely had time to take a breath before something required his attention.

Much to his relief, Minerva proved to be a most invaluable assistant when it came to Hogwarts, and Moody help considerably with the Order, but Sirius found his time was still fully occupied with one thing or another.

“You should sleep,” Emmeline urged.

Sirius rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“I will, soon,” he answered, readily accepting the cup of coffee she had brought him.

He wasn’t even sure if sleep would come.

With Davis, Ogden, and Fawley dead, the Wizengamot was once more ripe for the Dark Lord’s taking, and Sirius was no longer convinced that Harry could make the needed difference, not unless he could somehow inspire the neutrals to side with those opposing Voldemort.

That would be a tall order that even Albus had not managed to achieve, and with one of their own having been murdered so coldly, it would be harder than ever.

Still, all he could do was wait and see what would unfold from the latest catastrophe.

Fortunately, Yaxley had been unable to hold the vote he’d intended pertaining to the Muggleborn Registration Act.

Not even the Minister had the power to force the Wizengamot to convene after such an event, which, Sirius was certain, would only delay the inevitable unless something was to drastically change.

Unfortunately, as things were, it didn’t seem possible.

“Sirius, it is almost two am,” Emmeline pointed out.

“It is?” he asked, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “That means its Harry’s birthday. He’s officially a man,” he added sadly.

“You’ve done a fine job with him, both you and Lily.”

“I hope so,” he murmured. “It still wasn’t the same as having James around. He was brilliant with Harry.”

“So were you, and still are,” Emmeline praised, “and you get to do it all over again with your own child.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in, and when they did, Sirius found that he was lost for words. Instead, he babbled something incoherent before shaking his head.

“You’re…?”

Emmeline nodded.

“I know the timing isn’t the best, but…”

Sirius immediately took her by the hand.

“When is it ever?” he asked. “Bloody hell, I had five minutes of not being responsible for a kid. That must be some kind of record. Wait, when…?”

“I’m a few months along, I think. I need to see a Healer to confirm it.”

Sirius nodded, and though he was nervous, and could feel a sense of panic setting in, he knew now was not the time to lose his composure.

He was happy, of course, but equally terrified in more ways than he could count, but all that mattered was the safety of the baby, and he would do all he could to ensure it.

“I’ll send a letter to Tullius,” he declared. “He’s looked after Harry all these years, and I trust him.”

Emmeline nodded appreciatively.

“We should keep it between us until then.”

“And only share it with those we trust implicitly. I made that mistake once before, and I will not do it again.”

“I know,” Emmeline soothed.

Sirius offered her an appreciative smile.

“A bloody baby,” he sighed. “I feel like I’m too old for this.” Emmeline rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s a little too late for that, Sirius Black. Besides, there hasn’t been a Vance baby since me…”

“Black,” Sirius interjected. “It will be a Black.”

“Is that so?”

Sirius nodded resolutely.

“It is, even if we have to get married.”

“Have to get married? If that is your way of proposing, you’d better think about doing a better job of it. Now, if you’re not going to rest, I will. Being pregnant is tiring.”

She left the room, and Sirius could only shake his head.

“A bloody baby,” he groaned. “What am I supposed to do with one of those?”

(Break)

He’d never been inside Gringotts before.

There had never been any reason to.

Sirius had insisted on providing everything for Harry and his mother over the years, and it wasn’t as though Harry could’ve changed that. Outside of her widows’ allowance his mother was not able to access the Potter vault, and nor had Harry, until today.

His footsteps across the marbled floor sounded heavy in the silence that had fallen as he’d entered the bank, and even some of the goblins were whispering amongst themselves.

To most, Harry was still something of a commodity, and given his recent exploits, was somehow more famous now than he’d ever been among the British.

Even so, he’d rather be able to conduct his business a little more privately, and so did the goblins, evidently.

One of the small creatures hurried towards him.

“Lord Potter, please, follow me. I will send for your account manager, Garnuff. He is expecting you.”

He was led to a small room through one of the doors in the foyer, where he was left, but only briefly.

Only a minute, another goblin entered and sealed the door behind himself with a wave of his hand. For a moment, he said nothing as he took in Harry’s appearance.

“My apologies, Lord Potter, but I was taken aback by just how uncanny your resemblance is to the others I have met over the years. I am Garnuff, your account manager. If you have a few moments, I would like to go over your portfolio with you, but first, I must insist we verify who you are. Of course, it is all but a formality, but I would not be doing my due diligence if I didn’t. Please, hand over your wand.”

Harry did so, and Garnuff inspected it before nodding appreciatively.

“Quite the creation,” he murmured, waving a hand over it.

“That’s it?” Harry asked as it was returned.

“There are a great many things we can tell from a wand, Lord Potter. I would urge you to visit with Mr Ollivander. He is quite the human when it comes to such things. For now, however, we have matters to discuss, beginning with the state of your finances.”

“That sounds rather ominous.”

“Not at all,” Garnuff chuckled, his gravelly rather unpleasant as he did so. “The Potters have always been rather astute with their wealth. Of course, your ancestor, Linfred of Stinchcombe was a revered potioneer, inventing many brews still used today including pepper-up potion and Skele-gro.”

“He did?” Harry asked.

He was familiar with both potions.

“Indeed he did. His inventions netted quite the sum of gold, which still produces excellent turnovers for your family. It has been most consistent over the centuries, along with the other ventures from your predecessors.”

“So, I’m rich?”

Not that Harry cared for such things. He intended to pursue his own career when the war was over, to earn his own way in life, but he had plans that would consist of some needed investment, and if he could use the family wealth to get started, it would be quite the boon.

“Quite so,” Garnuff chuckled. “You could live a very comfortable life and barely make a dent in your wealth. Of course, if you were to be less conservative, it would leave little for your children, but since the account has been untouched for more than fifteen years, your coffers have swelled considerably.”

“Well, at least I won’t be on the streets,” Harry snorted, “but I don’t intend to be so lavish. I would like to build a new family home for me and my mother, and well, my family if it happens. That will be my biggest investment…”

“Well, you already have the land to do so,” Garnuff informed him, placing a pair of rimless spectacles on his nose as he began flicking through a stack of parchment he removed from the rest. “Ah yes, you own considerable land in Wales which once belonged to your ancestor, Hardwin Potter, and also the land belonging to another ancestor, Ralston Potter, who built a home not so far from Mount Snowden. I’m afraid I am unsure of the state of either, but I can provide portkeys for you to visit at your convenience.”

“Thank you, Garnuff, that would be most appreciated.”

The goblin offered him a toothy grin as he began reading through further pieces of parchment.

“Other than that, your income is steady, your investments have been performing well, but once you are settled into your role a little more, we can discuss those further, and anything new you may wish to look into. Ah, and before I forget, there is just one more thing.”

He placed an ornate yet small box onto the desk and slid it towards Harry.

“The family ring is enchanted to return here upon the death of the Lord. I do hope that I do not see it again soon.”

Harry opened the box and took in the silver band that his father, grandfather, and many other Potters had worn before him.

It consisted of a gold band with an almost transparent, square stone set into the centre, and as he placed it on his index finger of his right hand, he felt the magic within, just an essence of every other who’d worn it before him, dozens upon dozens of them, connect with his own magic.

It was quite the overwhelming sensation, and when it passed, the ring he wore was not quite as it appeared. For the most part, it looked the same, but within the stone he caught glimpses of several things; creatures, pairs of eyes, a cloaked figure, and Harry was certain he even briefly saw the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

“I do not know how it works,” Garnuff said apologetically. “Your father asked, as did his father, and I’m afraid I could not answer.”

Harry nodded his understanding and smiled as he caught sight of a falcon passing through the stone.

History.

In its own way, Harry suspected it was showing him glimpses of what made his ancestors who they were, but he couldn’t be certain.

Still, that’s what it felt like, and as he stood, he offered Garnuff a nod of gratitude.

“Thank you, Garnuff,” he said sincerely. “For today and looking after my family.”

“It is as much a pleasure as it is my duty, Lord Potter. Come, I will give you some time to get used to being in your position, and we can discuss anything else at a later date. I will show you out.”

Harry followed the goblin, well aware of the weight of the ring on his finger, and now, it all felt so real.

He was the Lord of his family, a man who’d come of age against all odds, and even now, they remained stacked against him.

“Oh dear,” Garnuff sighed as the entered the foyer.

A large gathering of people had arrived in their absence, but it wasn’t the members of the public who concerned Harry. No, that was another group garbed in dark robes and with a gold Ministry of Magic crest pinned to their chests.

They were harassing the goblins, much to the chagrin of the creatures.

“Papers! I want to see all of your papers. If you are on the register, you have nothing to fear!” one of the men barked.

Harry had almost forgotten about the Creature Registration Act, and had not considered how it would affect the goblins. Truthfully, he would’ve expected considerable resistance from them, but it appeared that not even the surly little creatures wished to provoke the ire of the Dark Lord.

Harry, however, was not of a similar disposition, and he frowned as he stepped towards the man barking orders to his subordinates.

He was taken aback by his presence, and seemed uncertain of himself, but he stood at his full height, puffing his chest out as he tapped the badged fixed to it.

“I am on official Ministry of Magic business. You will not hinder it, Potter!”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the man, already having sensed his nervousness.

“That is Lord Potter to you. Now, where is your paperwork showing that this is a lawful search? Where is the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office? You know as well as I do that no other department, not even the Minister himself, can trespass into Gringotts in an official capacity without agreement from the Head of the Bank. As a Lord of the Wizengamot, I have the right to check that your duty is being carried out to the letter of the law. Now, where is your paperwork?”

“Is that true, Mulberry? Do we need permission?” one of the others asked worriedly.

Mulberry scoffed.

“We are here on the authority of Minister Yaxley…”

“You are here to be a cunt,” Harry cut in irritably. “I couldn’t care less if the Queen herself has given you permission, it means nothing without an agreement between Gringotts and the Goblin Liaison Office, so, if you do not have the correct paperwork, I will insist that you leave, and if you even think about reaching for your wand, I will shove it so far up your arse, you’ll taste the wood in the back of your throat.”

The other robed men and women were watching closely to see how Mulberry would react, and though Harry did not doubt he wished for nothing more than to call his bluff, he thought better of it.

Turning and stalking towards the door, and gesturing for the others to follow, he faced Harry once more when he reached it.

“You won’t get away with this, Potter!” he warned.

“All mouth and no trousers,” Harry returned with a shrug.

Mulberry had turned a rather impressive shade of purple, and he slammed the door on his way out.

“How did you know about the agreement between our kind and the Ministry of Magic?” Garnuff asked.

“I didn’t,” Harry chuckled. “I just made it up. Is that really a thing?”

“I am not aware of the ins and outs of the treaties,” Garnuff admitted. “I am just an account manager, and not important enough to worry about such things.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully.

He’d heard of the treaties between humans and goblins but wasn’t aware of the details. He knew that goblins were not allowed to carry wands as part of the agreement that they oversaw the finances of humans, but that was it.

“Will you not find yourself in trouble?” Garnuff asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Garnuff, in case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m always in trouble,” Harry snorted. “How often do you they come in here?”

“A few times a week. They’re always harassing everyone who dare come to Diagon Alley. They even dragged a lady in last week for questioning because she couldn’t prove she wasn’t a werewolf. She has not been seen since.”

Harry could only shake his head in response.

He knew the Ministry had fallen, knew things were bad, but in a way, he lived in a bubble away from it all, away from those it truly affected.

“This can’t go on,” he sighed, frowning as an idea began to form in his mind, undoubtedly a stupid one he would likely regret, but one that may prove to be necessary if his suspicions were correct.

It was a gamble, a significant one, but it might just serve him well in his endeavours.

“Garnuff, could you arrange a meeting with whomever is in charge of the bank, or even the goblins as a whole?”

The goblin eyed him curiously for a moment before nodding.

“I may be able to do just that, Lord Potter. May I ask why?”

“I think I may have a proposition, something that could certainly benefit all of us.”

Garnuff continued to watch him, his beady eyes meeting Harry’s.

“I can submit a petition on your behalf for consideration. I think even the elders will be interested in meeting you.”

“Then do it,” Harry requested. “I will look forward to your letter.”

With a final nod, he left Gringotts, passing through the whispering crowd, and shaking his head at the sight of the empty Diagon Alley.

Not even Mulberry and his cronies were anywhere to be seen, but Harry could feel that he was being watched from several different vantage points.

Nonetheless, he was not hindered as he began walking the length of the famed street, ready to strike out at anything that gave him cause. He did not engage those lying in wait, but as he passed each one, he allowed his gaze to rest on them, to let them know that he knew they were there, and that appeared to be more than enough of a deterrent to keep his walk peaceful.

Even so, he did not like being spied on. It was an invasion of his privacy, but that was something he would need to expect more of from now on.

Harry was very much in the spotlight now, probably more so than anyone else in Wizarding Britain, and everything he did would be scrutinised closely in a bid to see the kind of man he’d grown to be.

(Break)

“You were told to leave the boy be.”

His tone was casual, calm even, but his anger was threatening to boil over, and the smirk Rodolphus wore sent him over the edge.

“CRUCIO!”

The man screamed in agony as he fell to his knees, but the Dark Lord did not relent immediately. No, he took a moment to enjoy the man writhing in pain, but this punishment was not solely for his pleasure.

Rodolphus had defied him, and though he’d not engaged Potter, his instructions on the boy had been clear.

“If you cross the line again, Rodolphus, it will be for the very last time. What is it, Yaxley?”

“You sent for me, my lord,” the man reminded him.

Voldemort hummed and banished Rodolphus into the wall to his left before shifting his focus to the Minister of Magic.

“I have provided you with all you need, Titus. I am expecting a desired outcome the next time you hold a vote. Is that clear?”

“Of course, my lord. Without Fawley, Davis, and Ogden, it is all but assured.”

“But with Potter, anything is possible,” the Dark Lord pointed out. “What do you intend to do to mitigate his influence?”

“Well, I could delay the vote for a while and let the novelty of his ascension wear off.”

The Dark Lord shook his head.

“No, our plans have been delayed long enough. Lucius? You are the one with the political acumen, what can be done to prevent Potter from interfering?”

The man was paler than usual, twitchy, a shadow of his former self at best since losing his home.

“Short of killing the boy, my lord, there is little that can be done. The law is specific. So long as he can prove that he is the legitimate heir of the Potter family, which is certainly not in question, he can take his seat.”

“Can his seat be taken in a more official capacity?”

“Only if he is a wanted criminal, or if it is decided upon by the Wizengamot that he is not fit to govern. That must be a majority decision, which will never pass.”

“If we were to make him a wanted criminal, my lord, that might just turn the rest against us,” Yaxley sighed. “We must have faith that what you have done will prove to be sufficient in quelling any desire to vote against our wishes.”

The Dark Lord nodded his understanding.

He was not pleased by the development, but he had already considered that this might happen.

“Very well, but that does not change my expectations. Schedule the vote, Titus, and pray that all that is necessary has been done. You are the Minister of Magic. Do whatever else you can to ensure we win.”

“And am I to be allowed to do what I must without your involvement, my lord?”

The man was more than a little put-out about not being informed of the Dark Lord’s intention to swing the votes in their favour through his own efforts.

Not that Yaxley, even as the Minister of Magic, was in any position to question him.

“That remains to be seen.”

He had his ideas and thoughts on what he could do, and it wasn’t as though he could allow such an occasion to pass without his own contribution, after all.

With a nod of uncertainty in response, Yaxley and Lucius left the room, and the Dark Lord shook his head.

There was a time he’d been able to rely on his inner circle to get things done, but now, many had grown weak, pathetic, and next to useless when he needed them most to do what he could not.

Perhaps they would finally prove themselves the men he had welcomed with open arms to share in his ambition.

At the very least, there were those that were performing well, and he expected nothing less from those whose loyalty had not wavered, those who’d been imprisoned instead of forsaking him.

He needed that loyalty now more than ever, needed to continue re-establishing his control over Britain, and needed to send yet another message to those who stubbornly chose to oppose him.

(Break)

He watched as Lily fretted over the several dishes she was cooking with the help of Kreacher. Oddly, the two of them seemed to be working well together on Harry’s birthday dinner, but the redhead was stressed.

“I just need this to be perfect for him!”

That had been the last thing she’d said before she’d spent the last several hours wrapping presents, cooking, and even blowing up balloons.

Of course, she was going overboard with everything, but her effort wouldn’t be lost on Harry.

“It smells good in here,” Tonks declared as she entered the kitchen with Moody and Kingsley in tow.

“How’s the leg holding up, Alastor?” Sirius asked.

The man couldn’t help but grin whenever his new limb was mentioned.

“Aye, it’s as close as I’ll get to having the original back. The lad did a good job with this.”

“Just as he did in Gringotts earlier,” Tonks snorted.

“Gringotts?” Sirius pressed.

“Ah, well, he was meeting with his account manager when Mulberry arrived with his group. Harry didn’t take kindly to them harassing the goblins. He didn’t hurt anyone, well, except for Mulberry’s pride. He sent him on his way with an earful, from what I heard.”

“Of course he did,” Sirius sighed. “Merlin only knows what he’s going to do during his first Wizengamot meeting. He’s never been good at holding his tongue.”

“Aye, he’s a Potter alright.”

“No, that’s more of a Lily Evans thing,” Sirius replied amusedly. “James was much more likely to prank anyone who irked him. It’s true what they say about redheads.”

He smiled as Lily glared at him, though it fell as she placed and a stack of napkins and silverware in his hands.

“Thank you for volunteering to lay the table,” she said with an overly sweet smile.

Sirius knew better than to say anything more, and set about doing so, his gaze shifting towards the clock.

It wouldn’t be long before the others arrived, and then the festivities could begin.

Despite there being a war on, a boy only became a man once in a lifetime, and Harry would not be missing out on the momentous occasion it was.

(Break)

He ran his finger along the tally he’d been keeping, many representing nameless Death Eaters he had happened upon in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and even those spying in the muggle world.

Seventeen-years-old.

Harry could think of no other who’d lived a life like him, shaped by Fate necessitating to become what he was.

Many would consider him a monster if they knew all he’d done, and yet, he was lauded as some beacon of light, when in truth, he’d only done what he needed to survive.

He longed for the day he was no longer plagued by a notorious Dark Lord or his sycophants, but even now, he was unsure what he would do with such freedom.

He’d never even tasted it in his short life, which had been marred by disaster, war, murder, and even heartbreak.

To Harry, that was normality, and he often wondered how he would cope without it. Even so, he would like the chance to see for himself what such a life would be like.

Dull, probably, but at the very least, all he did would be on his own terms, so long as Fate did not see fit to intervene again.

He shook his head before making his way to the bathroom to shower, releasing a deep sigh as he found yet another, long blonde hair that had belonged to Sabine.

She’d been gone for weeks now, and he still found them; a bittersweet reminder of one chapter of his life closed before he was ready.

If only the one he was living would be so swift.

Turning on the shower, he stripped off his clothes, and caught sight of the ring he now wore, smiling as a stag galloped across the front of the clear stone.

“I’m trying, Dad,” he murmured.

He wondered what advice his father would give him if he were here with him, and he was reminded once more that James Potter had only been a few years older than he was now when he’d been killed.

Too young.

As with many others who’d lost their lives to Voldemort, James Potter had been too young, had only enjoyed a few years of marriage with the love of his life, and not even two as a father to a son, who, by all accounts, he’d adored.

He’d given his life for Harry and Lily Potter, and no matter how he’d been as teenager, or the things he’d done, his final act was how Harry measured him.

James had sacrificed himself so that his wife and son could be granted a chance of surviving the monster that had come for them.

He smiled sadly as he finished his ablutions, and took his leave of the shower, reminding himself to return to Gringotts soon to visit the family vault.

With the overload of information he’d received from Garnuff, and the unpleasantness that followed after, he’d forgotten to do so, but would go back as a priority to see what he could learn of his family.

For now, however, he needed to visit his mother in what would likely be yet another bittersweet experience celebrating a birthday he knew his father would have relished.

For the briefest of moments, he considered using the stone to speak with what he could summon of the man, but no, now was not the time for that.

The day he summoned James Potter from wherever he rested would be the very same Harry informed him of his success at ridding the world of Tom Riddle.

Releasing a deep breath, he threw a handful of floo powder into the fire.

“Grimmauld Place,” he called, stepping into the flames as they changed from red to green.

“SURPRISE!”

He almost reached for his wand but stilled his hand as his gaze roamed over those gathered in the kitchen of the Black home.

Of course, his mother and Sirius were here with Emmeline, along with every member of the Order of the Phoenix. Andromeda and Ted were with Nymphadora, but it was the five others surrounding his mother who left Harry taken aback.

Wendell, Marisa, Maggie, Isabelle, and Olivia were standing in front of him after close to a year of not seeing any of them. Of course, he’d written to them regularly, but it hadn’t been the same as seeing the day in and day out at school.

Seeing them now meant more to him than he could put into words, even if it did seem a little odd.

None of them were the same children that had met in the carriage some six years prior, and with Harry being the youngest of the group, the others had already been adults for months now, and they looked it.

“Happy Birthday, Harry his mother whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. “Erm, you have quite the pile of gifts to get through,” she added apologetically, nodding towards one side of the kitchen, where they were stacked from floor to ceiling. “It seems as though there are a lot of people that remember it is your birthday. They began arriving at midnight and haven’t stopped.”

“Who are they from?”

“Just about everyone in Wizarding Britain, I think,” Sirius interjected, clapping him smartly on the shoulder. “Happy Birthday.”

“Alright, you’ve had him to yourselves since he got back here,” Wendell huffed, almost squeezing the life out of him. “Here, Pa says you should have a proper man’s drink for your first.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, eyeing the bottle of clear liquid he’d been handed nervously.

“That’s moonshine. Pa said something about seeing Jesus if you have too much of it, and I’m pretty sure he uses that to take paint off the walls.”

“Ah, I’ll look forward to it,” Harry snorted.

Wendell offered him a grin before he was all but shoved aside by the four females in the group.

It wasn’t the birthday Harry had expected, but when he thought about it, he knew he couldn’t ask for a better one. For five years now, he had celebrated with his friends, and he was grateful that it was one of the few things he’d been able to keep, no matter what else had or was happening.

“How about you open our presents, and then we can have dinner,” his mother suggested.

Harry nodded and took a seat at the table, slightly overwhelmed by everything that had happened these past few moments, but truthfully, he couldn’t be happier.

(Break)

Although he could not see the house itself, he was certain that Potter was somewhere nearby, and even if he wasn’t, he did not doubt the message would reach him one way or another.

With a wave of his wand, he unveiled his handy work and smiled as it appeared.

He’d gone to considerable effort to arrange this gift, but for such an occasion, it was worth it. He just hoped that Harry appreciated the lengths he’d gone to provide such a masterpiece.

With a final look around, he nodded satisfactorily to himself before vanishing, certain that his foe would receive the gift soon enough.

(Break)

“How did you all get here?”

“Your mother wrote to us,” Wendell explained. “She practically begged us to come. I wasn’t so sure, but, well, someone has to celebrate your birthday with you.”

“She did not beg us, Wendell,” Isabelle huffed. “Just for one evening, can you two not be a pair of cochons?”

“How can I be whatever that when I don’t know what it is?” Wendell asked.

“It means pig, Wendell,” Harry sighed. “How can you be dating someone French for as long as you have and not speak it?”

Wendell shrugged as a grin tugged at his lips.

“Did you learn French from Gabrielle?”

Harry placed his head in his hands as both his mother and Sirius looked at him, well, just about every pair of eyes were on him, and he didn’t know what to say.

“My mother should’ve known better than to invite you,” he grumbled.

Wendell’s grin widened.

“Someone has to keep you in check,” he said with a shrug. “Pass the bacon, you filthy cochon.”

“Now he speaks French,” Harry muttered. “It’s supposed to be my birthday. Why am I getting a hard time?”

“I have a lot of missed opportunities to make-up for.”

Harry chose not to respond, but he glared at the grinning Sirius and shook his head, momentarily pleased for the arrival of Kreacher, who seemed to be rather concerned.

“Master Harry, bad wizard is outside.”

“Voldemort?” Harry asked as he stood, immediately flicking his wand into his hand.

The mood shifted in an instant, and Harry approached the window, his nostrils flaring at the sight that greeted him.

There was no sign of the Dark Lord himself but given what the man had left in plain view of the entire street, there was no doubting he’d been here.

Dangling from the four lampposts on the far side of the square was a collection of eighteen bodies, recently murdered judging by the blood still dripping from the entrails dangling from the torn open abdomens, but it was the crude carvings on the chest of each one that was most disturbing.

It was one letter per corpse, spelling out ‘Happy Birthday Harry’, leaving no need to guess just who would send the message in such a way.

For Harry’s part, it was nothing new, and he expected nothing less from Riddle, but to his friends who’d never witnessed such violence, it was as shocking as it was concerning.

“He’s a sick sonofabitch,” Wendell said darkly.

Harry nodded his agreement, but he could not deny that he wouldn’t do the same if the opportunity presented itself, and in fact, had done much worse to those he’d captured.

Did that make him as sick as Riddle?

Perhaps it did, but he knew the only way he would emerge victorious from this was to fight fire with fire, and already, Harry knew he was too deep into all he’d done to have regrets now.

No, this back and forth would undoubtedly continue until the time came for one of them to end it.

It was just a shame that Tom’s birthday was so far away that he wouldn’t get an immediate return. Still, that just gave Harry to plan accordingly, and before then, there was much more for him to focus on.

Tonight, however, was his birthday, and he wasn’t going to let the Dark Lord ruin it entirely.

“I’ll inform Bones,” Moody declared. “She’ll sort it.”

Harry nodded appreciatively and closed the curtains.

Something of a dampener had been put on the occasion, and he’d undoubtedly look back on his seventeenth birthday with a bittersweet fondness.

Maybe he couldn’t salvage what remained of it, but Harry would not let Riddle ruin this for him, not when so many had put in so much effort to make it what it was.

With Tom’s birthday so far away, he knew he couldn’t wait so long to offer a rebuttal, and with his first Wizengamot meeting on the horizon, he knew that the plan he’d concocted in Gringotts only a matter of hours prior would infuriate the Dark Lord, if he was able to pull it off.

Just his mere presence was enough to achieve that, but if he could get this just right, the man would be apoplectic with rage, a thought that brought an anticipatory smirk to Harry’s lips.