A Promise Kept - Chapter 66 - Digging Up the Past

Digging Up the Past

“CRUCIO!”

He watched as Yaxley writhed on the ground.

Of course, the man could not have possibly predicted that Potter would do something so ludicrous, and yet, the Dark Lord needed to punish someone for such an oversight.

In truth, he himself had not considered such a possibility, and he was furious for himself for not having done so.

He’d not known what Potter might do upon assuming his seat on the Wizengamot, and the thought that he might make a grab for the most powerful position in the land had not even crossed his mind.

It should have.

Potter had shaped up to me nothing of what the Dark Lord had envisioned all those years he’d barely existed in exile. The boy was brazen, courageous, not without talent, and was as insolent as any he’d come across.

It was irksome to say the least but would be somewhat amusing were it not for the implications.

He was no politician, that was clear, though given what he had done, he did not need to be.

He’d made quite the promise to the people of Britain, one he could not keep, and the Dark Lord chuckled at the thought. No, he could not be a man of his word, and his death would only be more the sweeter for it, more impactful for the fools that bought into his delusion.

It didn’t bother the Dark Lord that the name his mother had given him had been outed, or that he wasn’t even a pureblood. Any fool with more than a few braincells to rub together would’ve been able to figure it out were they so inclined.

No, it was the lack of respect shown by his foe, and his interference in the plans he’d been formulating for more years than Potter had breathed.

“Lucius, what can we expect?”

The blond dragged a hand through his hair and shook his head.

“That depends, my lord,” he sighed tiredly. “If the vote of no confidence against Titus passes, then a vote to appoint a new Minister will be held. Given the circumstances, I can only assume that a vote of no confidence passing would mean that they intend to back Potter.”

“Is it likely?”

“No, but not impossible. If the damned fools believe his spiel, they might be inclined to take a chance on him. There is no denying his popularity, nor the success he has had thus far.”

The Dark Lord’s nostrils flared.

“Then we must ensure that his delusions are not bought into,” he murmured irritably. “No matter what it takes, Titus, Potter is not to become the new Minister of Magic.”

“O-of course, my l-lord,” Yaxley stammered, limping from the room with quite the task on his hands.

“Lucius, is there anything else that can be done?”

The Malfoy lord grimaced as he shook his head.

“I fear not. It is most unorthodox, but there is nothing legally preventing Potter from becoming the Minister of Magic if he can garner enough support. It will come down to whether they fear you more than they believe in him.”

“Then perhaps they need yet another reminder,” the Dark Lord mused aloud. “Perhaps they need to see once and for all the power I wield.”

(Break)

She couldn’t fathom what Hary was thinking.

Coming of age was one thing, and even fighting against the Dark Lord, she understood, but overthrowing the magical government was not something she had ever thought him likely to do.

“Why?” she asked.

Sirius was a little too amused for her liking, and even Emmeline did not seem particularly impressed with him relishing in it.

“It makes sense.”

“How in the hell does it make sense?”

“Because Harry is the one person in the country who none could ever believe to be corruptible or working with Voldemort.”

Lily frowned and conceded the point with a nod.

“Believe me, I was just as shocked as you are, and still am, but if you look at it from all sides, it’s bloody genius. Those who oppose the appointment will expose themselves as followers of Voldemort, and those who support Harry will have made a choice to stand against him. It’s dangerous, but if there is anyone that can unite the majority of the Wizengamot against him, it's Harry. It has to be Harry.”

“Why not you?” Emmeline asked.

“Because I am the only one of my family who stood against him. There will always be those that question my sincerity given that two of my cousins are married to known Death Eaters, my younger brother was one, and my mother was very vocal about her support of what he was doing. The name Black is not regarded as highly as it once was.”

Emmeline nodded her understanding.

“I just find it hard to believe that Harry might be in charge of the entire country.”

Sirius snickered, though he fell silent as Lily glared at him.

“I thought this was one of your stupid ideas,” she huffed. “Where did he get the idea? Harry doesn’t want to be the Minister of Magic, not really.”

“I have no idea,” Sirius replied with a shrug, “but I don’t think it is as simple as him wanting to be the Minister. Harry will hate it.”

Lily nodded, and wondered how such a seed had been planted in his mind.

She knew her son.

Harry would sooner lock himself away from the world to avoid being gawped at, not putting himself at the very centre of it where all eyes would be on him even more so.

No, something was not quite adding up, and she intended to ask him about it when he joined them for dinner later this evening.

She would hear it from him, hear of why he was doing something so incredibly unexpected outside of wanting to displace Yaxley as the Minister of Magic.

There was undoubtedly more to it than that, but no matter how much she pondered it, Lily came no closer to an answer that made sense.

(Break)

“You seem nervous, Garnuff.”

The goblin nodded.

“The elders do not meet with humans, Lord Potter, so it can only mean that they are truly curious about you. That is not necessarily a good thing. Their curiosity can quickly turn to violence, and the elders are the most powerful of goblins, Lord Potter.”

“Then I’d best not provoke them. Will this have a detrimental effect on you?”

Garnuff frowned thoughtfully.

“That is likely.”

“Then why did you agree to petition on my behalf?”

Garnuff’s steps paused, and his frown deepened.

“Because there is something quite sincere about you, Lord Potter,” he answered. “I think they will see it too, but I must urge you to be only that. Be truthful with your words and afford them the same respect you have shown me. I would prefer that neither of us lose our heads. Not that I think it will come to that. Even my kind know of your deeds.”

Harry was beginning to wonder if coming here was wise, but as they reached a large set of oak doors with an intricate gold pattern inlaid into the wood, he knew there was no turning back now.

“Enter,” a gravelly voice commanded as Garnuff knocked on it.

The goblin released a steadying breath before pushing it open, and Harry followed the Potter account manager within to find himself in a rather sparsely decorated room with only a few sconces providing light, and a large desk, which three goblins were seated behind.

Garnuff immediately took a knee before them, and though Harry did not do so, he offered a respectful bow of acknowledgement.

He’d never heard the native tongue of the goblins, and he found it to be rather grating, more so that they were openly discussing him, each pair of beady eyes taking in his appearance.

“You are Lord Harry James Potter,” the one in the middle eventually spoke.

“I am.”

The goblin stared at him unblinkingly.

“We do not meet with humans as a rule, not since the final signing of the treaties between us more than two centuries ago, but even here, word has reached us of all you have done since Halloween 1981. For a human, you are quite remarkable. Now, what is it you would ask of us?”

He found it quite refreshing that there was no pomp or circumstance to the meeting.

Harry despised the politicking he knew existed among the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot; the intimate dinners, attending sporting events in a bid to show either wealth or favour, and he hated that he would need a silver-tongue to navigate his way towards a desired end.

The goblins did not seem to care for such things and were as expectant as him.

“You have a problem with the authority of the Ministry of Magic, particularly the Creature Registration Act. What happens to the goblins is not my business, but I expect it is an insult, and affront to the treaties your kind signed with humans.”

“It is.”

Harry nodded.

“I do not like it either. I believe in being a man of my word, and what has happened to you is a wrong I may be able to put right.”

The goblin to the right leaned forward.

“How so, and at what cost to us?”

“I have reached my majority and already have garnered a reputation for myself. I could use that to have the Minister of Magic replaced with someone much more favourable, for both of us. In return, I would like access to the vaults of known Death Eaters, not to take their gold or possessions, but for one thing only, if it is within one of them.”

They eyed him silently for several moments before speaking to one another in their own tongue.

“What is it you are looking for?” the goblin to the left asked.

Harry looked towards Garnuff, who had remained silent for the duration of the meeting thus far.

“A Horcrux,” he answered. “A Horcrux containing a soul piece belonging to the Dark Lord.”

If they were surprised by the revelation of what Harry believed was in one of their vaults, they did not show it.

“And if such a thing is not here?”

“Then you have lost nothing.”

The goblins began conferring once more before falling eerily silent as they continued to watch him.

“You know what a Horcrux is.”

“I already have several of the seven he has or intends to create. Without destroying them all, he cannot truly die.”

“Seven?”

Harry nodded darkly.

“Each of them objects of considerable value, monetarily and historically to my kind.”

Once more, they spoke among themselves, much more aggressively than they had previously, and Harry was certain he’d offended each of them in some way.

The one on the left even left the room before returning almost twenty minutes later, a deep frown creasing his brow, and after another brief discussion, the middle goblin cleared his throat.

“You.”

“Me?”

The middle goblin nodded.

“You will become Minister of Magic, Lord Potter. You will see that our people are not harassed by your kind as they have been in recent months. You do that, and I am certain your efforts here for your own cause will not have been in vain. That is the agreement we are willing to offer.”

It was here.

Either that, or he was being tricked, which he wouldn’t put past the goblins, but if they were being honest, he would need their cooperation to get his hands on the Horcrux.

“And what reassurance do I have…?”

“It is a cup,” the goblin on the right answered. “Quite the famous cup created by Helga Hufflepuff. I will not divulge what vault it is in, but if you become the Minister of Magic, Harry Potter, at least until there is peace in Britain once more, we would’ve reached an accord.”

“I was thinking I would find someone…”

“It is you or nothing,” the middle goblin interjected. “It is you we have met with, and you we believe to be a man of his word. Prove it, Lord Potter, and we will prove the same.”

Harry did not wish to be the Minister of Magic.

He hated the thought of taking the position, and yet, it was clear there would be no further compromise on the matter.

“Agreed,” he returned reluctantly.

“You could’ve told me you wanted to be Minister!” Tonks huffed as she entered the flat, not even bothering to knock.

“I don’t want to be Minister.”

“Well, you’ve fooled the rest into the country into believing you do,” she returned, slamming a copy of The Daily Prophet onto the kitchen table.

Harry scowled at the offending article.

“Give me power, and I’ll give you Riddle’s head,” he snorted. “That’s not quite what I said.”

“Isn’t it?” Tonks chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Everyone is talking about it. Just take a look out of the window if you don’t believe me.”

Harry dreaded doing so, and he groaned as he caught sight of the dozens upon dozens of people parading up and down Diagon Alley. Some were even holding signs declaring their support for him.

“If you don’t want it, why are you doing it?”

“Out of necessity,” Harry sighed. “If I get the position, I don’t plan on being in it for long.”

“I’m sure Dumbledore said the same thing when he was elected Chief Warlock.”

“I’m not Dumbledore. I have no desire to be a people pleaser. I will do what I need to and then tell them to bugger off.”

“Of course you will,” Tonks muttered amusedly. “So, Minister Potter, what is the plan for today?”

He grimaced at the moniker, already partly regretting his decision to agree to the terms of the goblins.

“Nothing,” he answered.

Tonks rolled her eyes at him.

“That is not the attitude to get you elected. You need to be seen and make nice with the people. The more support you get, the better. I know, if you were to be seen eating dinner with a beautiful woman on your arm, it would send a message.”

“What kind of message will that send?” Harry asked confusedly.

Tonks shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I will get a free dinner out of it. Besides, it’s Friday, and you did promise.”

“I don’t remember promising anything.”

“That’s it, become Mr Popular and forget about your lowly friends who are no longer worth your time.”

“Stop being dramatic.”

“I’m not,” Tonks denied. “If I was being dramatic, I would sulk. And maybe whine a little. It used to work with Dad.”

“But not your mum.”

“No, she saw through it, and when she said that was what Bellatrix would do, I stopped.”

“Serves you right.”

“You’re still taking me to dinner. I can be whatever you think is best,” she added, shifting through several combinations of looks.

Harry shook his head and looked back out of the window.

“I can’t, I have dinner with Sirius tonight. Oh, don’t pull that face, you know I’ll make it up to you.”

She had begun to pout, but it changed to a smile a little too quickly for Harry’s liking.

“Tomorrow then,” she declared. “I have Sunday off, so there’s no need to rush my meal. I look forward to it, Minister Potter.”

Harry cursed under his breath, and Tonks laughed as she closed the door behind her.

He wasn’t sure if he preferred her when she used to tease him as children, or now. Either way, the woman was trouble, a pain in the backside, but only one of few people he would allow to get away with what she did.

“Tomorrow,” he sighed.

Come Monday, the Wizengamot would be holding a vote to decide if Yaxley should continue on without another election, and though Harry was nervous, he held onto a little hope that those on the Wizengamot that did not wish to be ruled over by Voldemort, would muster what little courage they could to do the right thing.

(Break)

There had always been something rather comforting about grooming her horses without using magic. She’d fallen in love with them as a girl when her father had taken the family on a trip to a ranch, and Sabine had come away with Bruce, who had been her closest confidant ever since.

He’d only been a foal then but had grown quickly into quite the majestic beast.

To most magicals, he would be rather dull. He didn’t fly, breathe fire, or provide anything other than company. He could be stubborn at times and wasn’t the easiest creature to care for. Sabine, however, could think of no other type of animal she would prefer to keep.

It was rewarding, as was the friendship that came with it.

Bruce knew her better than any.

He could read her mood and would respond to it; offering her comfort whenever she was down and knew just how to cheer her up.

In recent days, not even Bruce had managed that feat, and since the arrival of her intended, Sabine found she spent even more time here. The conversation was more stimulating, at least.

“Lunch is ready,” her mother informed her as she entered the stables. “Where is your husband-to-be?”

Sabine shrugged as she intentionally rubbed some soiled hay over her overalls.

Winthrop hated the smell of horses.

“I have no idea,” she answered with a sweet smile.

She didn’t, and as far as she was concerned, she wouldn’t care if he’d managed to get lost in the woods to the rear of the property.

“Sabine, you should at least make the effort.”

“I make the effort with things I care about,” she returned. “I care about lunch,” she added, taking her leave from the stables and heading back towards the house.

Maybe she was being just a little petty. It wasn’t in her nature to be such a way, most of the time, but as things were, she would take whatever small victory she could get.

“How’s Bruce?” Marcus asked, grimacing at the scent that wafted off her.

“He’s doing well,” Sabine answered as she took a seat, pointedly ignoring her father, who was listening to the radio, in favour of putting some potato salad and chicken onto her plate. For good measure, she added a thick slice of bread and began buttering it liberally.

Her brother shot her a questioning look, and she shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll be one of those fat, miserable wives who finds comfort in food.”

Marcus snickered, offering her a wink as he added his own bread to her plate, just as the Winthrop boy entered, looking as gormless as ever.

He frowned as he took a seat next to her, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

“Couldn’t you have showered first?” he asked.

“I could’ve,” Sabine confirmed, “but why would I when I’m going back to the stables after lunch.”

“Oh, is that all you do?”

“Most days, and it is something you’d better get used to. I’m already planning on getting more horses.”

She did not miss the smirk of her older brother, nor the look of disapproval from her father, who quirked an eyebrow as he turned the radio up.

“Joining me now is Barnabas Cuffe, editor for The Daily Prophet. Mr Cuffe, were you surprised by such a bold move?”

“I was, but you only need look to the streets of wizarding Britain this morning to see how much support he has.”

“Does it not concern you how young he is?”

“In recent months, we have witnessed Potter do what many deemed to be impossible. He survived the impossible as a baby, which we could put down to sheer dumb luck, but not what happened in the Ministry of Magic, at Malfoy Manor, nor at St Mungo’s. I have spoken to several eyewitnesses who say the same thing. Harry Potter is an incredibly powerful wizard, who the Dark Lord fears.”

“But fighting Dark Lords and being the Minister of Magic are not one and the same. For those of you now joining us, we are discussing the sudden and surprising intention from Harry Potter that he wishes to be the new Minister of Magic for Great Britain, declaring that, and I quote, if you give me the job, I will give you Riddle’s head. Should we not be speaking out against such violence, Mr Cuffe?”

Sabine could only stare wide-eyed at the radio, unsure if she should believe what was being said.

“Well, he’s got a pair on him,” Marcus snorted, pulling her from her thoughts. “If I hadn’t seen what he is capable of for myself, I would say he’s mad.”

“As would I,” her father declared thoughtfully, his complexion paling.

“Why are you so interested in Harry Potter?” Winthrop asked confusedly.

“Oh, he and Sabine are really good friends,” Marcus replied before anyone could stop him. “If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even be getting married. Then again, if he’d done what I hoped, you wouldn’t be getting married. You should remember that, Winthrop. If you upset my sister, it isn’t our family you need to be worried about. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He shot her intended a look of disgust before leaving the kitchen, and Winthrop continued to gape in confusion.

Sabine had suddenly lost her appetite, and decided to go back to the stables, feeling like she was missing out on the most important thing she’d once had.

Even now, it was difficult to resist the urge to flee her home, to find Harry and deal with whatever consequences came her way, but just the thought of doing so elicited a stab of discomfort as her magic reacted to that desire.

Still, being forced to marry Winthrop wasn’t any less painful.

“You were friends with Harry Potter?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that won’t be continuing when we are married.”

“Is that so?”

Winthrop nodded as he slammed the stable door closed.

“I will not have my wife being seen with another man!”

Sabine laughed but was taken aback as he grabbed her tightly around the throat.

“You are to be my wife,” he hissed. “Every last bit of you,” he added hungrily, his eyes once more finding their way to her chest, though he yelped as she rammed her knee into his groin.

As he collapsed to the ground, she rammed her fist into his nose, relishing in the sound of it breaking from the force. Seizing a handful of his hair, she pulled it, allowing her nails to dig into his scalp.

“If you ever even think about putting your hands on me again, I will cut your manhood off an attach it to your chin. As for every part of me, it will never belong to you in any way. Oh, I understand that I have to provide you with children, but that doesn’t mean I have to let your filthy hands, or any other part of you near me, you inbred buffoon. Now, this is me being very polite, but do not push me, Winthrop. I will fucking kill you, and to hell with the consequences. Play nice from now on, keep your hands to yourself, and your eyes away from these,” she added, nodding towards her chest. “This is the closest you will ever get to them, or anything else.”

He scrambled the flee the room and struggled with door before hurrying back towards the house.

Winthrop had been fortunate.

He’d dared put his hands on her, a mistake he wouldn’t make again if he knew what was good for him.

Sabine had not minced her words, nor had she said anything sincere.

She would kill him, and he would never get the chance to enjoy certain parts of their marriage. If Sabine was to be miserable, she would ensure her husband shared in that misery.

This time, she did not feel so petty, but it remained a small victory compared to what she would be missing out on with someone she didn’t despise.

(Break)

“You’re not mad at me?”

His mother shook her head.

“I’m surprised, Harry, but not angry. I am wondering why you decided to throw your hat in the ring to become Minister of Magic.”

“As am I,” Sirius interjected. “I had plans of my own.”

“You, as Minister?” Harry snorted. “I was amazed when you were allowed to work at Hogwarts given how much you desecrated the castle as a student.”

“No, I was going to replace Yaxley with Arthur.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

“He’d be good at it,” he said sincerely. “Wait, how were you going to replace Yaxley?”

Sirius looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Harry chuckled.

“What’s funny?” Emmeline asked.

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

She looked between the two of them, and Harry busied himself with his meal.

He certainly wasn’t going to drop Sirius in it, not when it was so clear what he’d intended to do.

Still, it was a surprising realisation. Harry didn’t doubt that his godfather possessed the ruthlessness to kill the Minister, but it was not a decision he would’ve made lightly, and now, it seemed, if all went well, it wouldn’t come to that.

Instead, Yaxley would be replaced with Harry, and he was not certain which was a more desirable outcome. For his own need to obtain the Horcrux confirmed within Gringotts, his own deal with the goblins was best.

He just hoped he would not be lumbered with the pots for too long.

Harry still despised politics, and politicking, and if there was any other way, he would have no part of it on such a deep level.

It was Sirius clearing his throat that pulled his from his musings, and Harry did not miss the encouraging look the man was receiving from Emmeline.

“There is another reason we asked you to come here tonight. We have some news to share with you both.”

“News?” Lily asked.

Sirius nodded as he took Emmeline’s hand.

“We’re having a baby.”

Harry looked towards his mother, who was already welling up with tears, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, thank bloody Merlin for that,” he declared. “Now your own sprog can look after your family when you’re too old to do it. Oh, and congratulations, I’m happy for both of you.”

He clapped Sirius smartly on the shoulder, before standing to pull Emmeline into a hug.

“It might be a girl,” Sirius pointed out.

“Yeah, one who will be a Black, and capable of taking over from you,” Harry returned. “Whether it is a boy or girl, they can be the Lord or Lady Black.”

“Fair enough, but only if you agree to be their godfather. If James was here, well, it would be him, but you…”

Sirius broke off for a moment and released a deep breath.

“I would be honoured if you would agree to do it, for me and for him.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed immediately. “You stepped up when we needed you most. I would do the same for you, without hesitation.”

Sirius nodded appreciatively and wrapped his arms around Harry.

“Then I know I never have to worry about what will happen to my child if anything happens to me. Of course, your mother will be their too, as their godmother.”

“I will,” Lily assured him.

“Then why don’t we celebrate,” Sirius urged, summoning a bottle of Firewhiskey. “What is it the muggles say, wet the baby on the head.”

“Wet the baby’s head,” Lily corrected amusedly.

“That,” Sirius snorted. “Thank you, Harry. I know this isn’t a decision either of us will regret.”

“Well, don’t go dying on me, Sirius. Not yet, at least. I’d rather you lived to be a dirty old man than go out in a blaze of glory.”

Sirius nodded.

“Me too,” agreed, “and that goes for you.”

(Break)

“I don’t like him,” Valerie murmured. “There is something about him that is very unsettling.”

Augustine nodded.

“What would you have me do?” he sighed. “I have had the contract checked by every lawyer I can. It is watertight, and nothing short of his death will change that, and no, you cannot be connected to it in any way.”

His wife had become just as miserable as their daughter in recent days, and Augustine was at a loss as to what he could do.

“She is so unhappy.”

“I know, and if we are lucky, something will happen to change her fortune before she does something reckless.”

“You do not think she will marry him.”

“I think she would rather die than do it.”

It was a most troubling thought, but since the Winthrop boy had arrived, it was one that became more prominent. Augustine had known his son-in-law-to-be was dim at best, but as he’d grown he seemed to have developed some more unpleasant traits.

He’d seen the expression he’d worn when he’d learned of Sabine’s closeness with Harry Potter and immediately felt the need to prove himself in some way.

Not that he could.

Harry Potter was one of those wizards that came along once every century or so, one unlike any other of their peers, who stood head and shoulder above everyone.

At the age of seventeen, he’d done things that Augustine would never think possible unless he’d met the young man for himself.

He remembered the first time, that defiant twelve-year-old, who’d not flinched or wavered in the face of perhaps the most powerful man in the United States.

No, he had stood tall and had grown to be a force to be reckoned with.

The world was seeing that for themselves, and now, he might just become the youngest Minister of Magic in history.

Augustine could not help but think that Potter would be an excellent figurehead, though he could not forget how he’d treated those men that had been in this very house, how he’d tortured them to death, just to learn where Sabine had been taken.

Now that was a man he would be proud of to call his son-in-law, and yet, because of traditions he had so little control of, he’d been lumbered with a damned fool at best.

(Break)

“I am not going into the restaurant like this!”

“You told me I needed to be seen with a beautiful woman.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and in her natural form, it was difficult to prevent herself from blushing. Instead, she thumped him on the shoulder, grinning as he scowled in response.

“At least let me change my hair. I don’t want to be mistaken for Bellatrix.”

“I really didn’t think of that,” Harry sighed. “Fine, you can go as you please.”

“I was going to anyway.”

“I don’t think I will want to eat for a week.”

“Good, because my vault can’t keep sustaining such a loss.”

“Your family isn’t poor,” Tonks snorted.

“It will be if you keep eating like that.”

She tutted at him as she sprawled out on the sofa, stretching to kick her boots off.

“You know, you’re getting far too comfortable in my flat.”

“It’s Sirius’s flat.”

“I brought it from him. He only let me give him a galleon, but its mine now.”

“He didn’t offer to sell it to me.”

“Well, when I build my house, you can live here.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Don’t burn the place down.”

Tonks shook her head in response.

“I’m not all that clumsy. Oi isn’t that the drink that Wendell gave you for your birthday?” she asked, summoning the bottle of clear liquid.

She opened and sniffed it, shuddering at the pungent scent.

Although Wendell had assured him it was safe to consume, Harry had not yet attempted it. If the man’s coffee was anything to go by, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to try his booze.

Tonks, however, summoned a glass and poured herself a measure, holding it up towards the light before placing it on the table.

“I’m not doing it alone,” she declared, pouring Harry a glass.

“I don’t want to do it at all.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“Fine,” Harry huffed, reluctantly accepting the glass she offered him, his nose wrinkling from the smell of the brew.

“It can’t be any worse than Skele-Gro,” Tonks predicted.

Harry chuckled.

“It was one of my ancestors who invented that.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

Harry nodded.

“And the same one invented Pepper-Up potion, and another Sleakeazy’s.”

“I didn’t know your family were great potioneers.”

“I don’t know where it went wrong with me.”

“Didn’t you get an Outstanding in your NEWTs?”

“NEWT level potions is not so difficult,” Harry said dismissively. “Just speak to my mother. She will blow your mind with what she knows.”

Tonks nodded appreciatively as she raised her glass.

“This is a terrible idea,” Harry grumbled, cursing from the burn of the drink as he emptied his glass in one deep swallow.

Tonks followed suit, her eyes widening at the potency of it.

“Bloody hell,” she spluttered, already pouring them another, something Harry expected he would regret come the morning.

(Break)

It was the first time he’d returned to Godric’s Hollow since his most unfortunate blunder more than fifteen years prior, and even now, he could feel that magic still in the air; a permanent reminder of what had happened.

Beneath it, however, was something else, something he’d missed the first time he’d found himself in the village. It was almost familiar, but also foreign, new to him, but as old as any other magic he’d ever encountered.

It was neither dark nor light, but the Dark Lord could feel it, as though it was watching him from every corner of the dwelling.

“I want him dead, Bella. More than anything.”

“You will kill him, my lord.”

“I do not doubt it, but my tact thus far has been ineffective. He is much cleverer than I had anticipated, and much more talented. He is a worthy foe.”

“He’s just a half-blood.”

“As am I.”

He felt the woman’s scowl, but his steps did not pause, and he chuckled.

“There is no denying the circumstances of my birth. My mother was a weak witch from a powerful line, and my father, mundane. It only makes my own power that much more acceptable. It is not my parentage that defines me, but my lineage. It is the blood of Salazar that flows through my veins.”

“Potter is not like you.”

“We are much more similar than you would believe,” the Dark Lord returned thoughtfully. “He too comes from a powerful line, and even your own. He is your cousin.”

Bellatrix leered at the reminder.

“There is no need to sulk, Bella. I am merely being factual, and the fact is, the three most powerful wizards of this century are all half-bloods.”

“Three?”

“Dumbledore may have been a fool, but he was an exceptional. He was very different from both me and Potter. He could’ve been truly great if he was so inclined, but his morals would never allow it. Potter is something between the two of us, but closer to me than he is Dumbledore. He has tortured and killed many of my followers and will continue to do so until I stop him.”

“My lord, you could kill him in an instant.”

The Dark Lord chuckled.

“No, my victory will not come so easily. He is powerful, exquisite with the magic he yields. He will not be defeated without preparation. He is strong in all ways that matter, and he must be weakened.”

“How do you intend on doing that?”

Lord Voldemort smiled as he drew his wand and levelled it towards the grave he had stopped in front of.

“I will break his heart first, then his mind, and then his body.”

With only a few waves of his wand, James Potter’s grave was no longer a peaceful resting place, nor were any other Potter’s who had been buried here.

No, their spirits may have moved on, but their remains would serve a purpose yet.