A Promise Kept - Chapter 67 - A Night to Remember

A Night to Remember

The taste of the alcohol on his breath made him fight the urge to vomit, and Harry dared not move from the feeling of overwhelming nausea. Since coming of age, he’d not been much of a drinker, but in the past two evenings, he’d consumed his share.

Between him, Sirius, and his mother, they had drunk two bottles of Firewhiskey. Of course, it had been his godfather who’d indulged the most, but last night…

He couldn’t remember much if anything.

Frowning at the thought, his need for water outweighed his desire not to be sick, and he turned to reach for his glass, only to realise he was on the wrong side of his bed.

Stranger still, there was someone else sleeping next to him, and it wasn’t the familiar length of silvery hair belonging to Gabrielle. No, this woman’s hair was almost as dark as the night sky, and the familiar features he’d studied since he’d been a boy were not those belonging to the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange.

These belonged to her niece, who carried them much softer, and even more so whilst she slept.

Tonks’ lips were parted slightly as she snored peacefully, which was something that wouldn’t last much longer when she realised where she was.

What had happened last night?

Harry wracked his brains for an answer, though none came. Maybe they had simply fallen asleep in here, but as Tonks pressed herself up against him, he quickly realised that neither of them were wearing any clothes.

From where he was laying, he could see Nymphadora’s underwear had been haphazardly deposited on the lamp resting on the bedside table, and he did not doubt that the rest of them, along with his own, were spread about the room.

He wanted to curse under his breath, or maybe even yell, but more than anything, he didn’t want to wake her up.

Once more, he wondered just what had happened to lead them to end up in bed together, with no clothing, and a distinctive scent still lingering in the air.

Any hope or inclination that they’d merely fallen asleep beside one another was all but gone as he pieced what little evidence he had together, and Harry wasn’t sure how to react.

He and Nymphadora had known each other since they’d been children, and she’d been the bane of his existence with her often getting him into trouble. Of course, they were children no longer, but Harry had never expected this to be something he would need to deal with.

Had he instigated it, or had it been Tonks?

He didn’t know, and right now, he was not feeling particularly sharp enough to figure it out.

She pressed herself closer to him, sighing contentedly, and Harry closed his eyes as hers began fluttering open. He felt Tonks stiffen in his arms, and he released a deep breath knowing he would have to face what they’d done.

It wasn’t as though he was a child and could hide beneath his duvet as he had when his nightmares had haunted him.

“Give it a minute,” he urged.

Tonks said nothing for several moments, and did not attempt to put any distance between them.

“We’re naked,” she acknowledged.

“We are.”

“Do you remember…?”

“Not a thing.”

“Oh.”

“You sound a little disappointed,” Harry chuckled. “Sorry, I know it’s not funny, but I don’t know what to say or do right now.”

Tonks nodded and rested her forehead on his chest.

“I made you drink that drink.”

“You didn’t make me,” Harry denied. “When have you ever known me to do anything I didn’t want to.”

“I still encouraged you.”

“That’s true. You’ve always been a bad influence on me, but I don’t think one of us can take the blame for this. It takes two to tango, and judging by the state of this room, we definitely tangoed.”

She buried her head deeper into his chest before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Oh, this isn’t good.”

“We could always pretend it didn’t happen.”

“We could,” Tonks acknowledged, “but we would know it did.”

“What did?”

She raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Harry, we are both naked in your bed. I don’t think either of us can pretend it didn’t happen. Bloody hell, what was that stuff?”

“With Wendell, I dread to think,” Harry sighed. “Would you like some privacy?”

“That’s probably for the best.”

Harry nodded and summoned his pyjama bottoms, sliding towards the side of the bed so he could put them on with something resembling dignity, or what was left of it.

“What?” he asked as Tonks pouted at him.

“I thought you’d at least give me a look on the way out.”

“You first,” Harry returned with a grin, dragging his hand through his hair as he made his way towards the door, pausing briefly when he’d opened it. “You know where the shower is, if you want to use it.”

Entering the kitchen, he prepared a pot of coffee, lost in thoughts of just what had happened the night before to lead them to where they’d found themselves.

It wasn’t until he’d mindlessly finished preparing breakfast that Tonks emerged from the bedroom, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of him.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Erm, I think I bit you.”

“Where?”

His own eyebrows rose as he noticed the purpling marks on his chest, and Harry shook his head.

“Did you mistake me for a sandwich?” he asked amusedly.

Tonks grimaced.

“Your neck is worse.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry cursed as he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the wall in the living room. “Voldemort hasn’t bruised me as much as you.”

“I think I’m going to leave and maybe throw myself off a bridge somewhere.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry chuckled, removing the marks with a wave of his hand. “It’s like it never happened.”

“I am so embarrassed.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I’m pretty sure I got you too,” he huffed.

Tonks deflated.

“Well, what do we do from here?” she asked.

Harry could only shrug in response.

It wasn’t as though this was his first time, but he remembered the others, and they weren’t with someone he cared for in such a way as he did the metamorph.

They had grown close over the years, and there was even a familial relationship, no matter how distant, and it just felt different.

“I don’t think us feeling stupid or guilty is going to help. It happened, we were drunk, neither of us remember anything, so, it doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Is it that easy?”

“Probably not, but I won’t let this ruin anything for either of us. We’re friends, and something like this shouldn’t come between us. Don’t make any jokes,” he added, seeing as she opened her mouth to do just that. “I’ve not eaten my breakfast yet, and I’m not feeling great.”

“That’s just charming,” Tonks grumbled. “I already make you feel sick.”

“I didn’t say that.”

She smirked at him, and Harry rolled his eyes, choosing to eat his bacon sandwich instead of dignifying her with a response.

“So, who do you think came onto who?” Tonks asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Not really. I suppose if it wasn’t mutual, it wouldn’t have happened. Who’s that?” she questioned as a knock sounded at the door.

“It can only be Sirius or my Mum,” Harry replied as he drew his wand, opening the door to be greeted by the sight of his stony godfather.

“Get dressed,” he instructed. “You’re not going to like this.”

“What’s happened?”

Sirius shook his head.

“Just, get dressed, Harry. I can’t say it out loud.”

He was furious.

It wasn’t often the man lost his temper, but Harry could see he was barely containing himself.

“Fine,” he agreed, hurrying to do so, and returning only a moment later, to find Sirius pacing in front of the fireplace.

Nymphadora shot Harry a questioning look, and he shrugged.

“I won’t be long, I think.”

“I’ll be leaving when I’ve finished my breakfast.”

Harry nodded.

He didn’t want anything to be awkward between them, but given Sirius’s demeanour, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he began pondering what had gotten his godfather so angry that he could barely speak.

(Break)

The Dark Lord had been oddly quiet since he’d left Harry the macabre birthday message.

Of course, she still scanned The Daily Prophet each morning and listened to the wireless to keep abreast of anything suspicious that may be occurring up and down the country, but there had been nothing, which only meant he was plotting his next move.

He was always plotting, after all.

Lily did not allow herself to relax when it came to the war. She knew that any given moment, all could change, and Voldemort never stayed silent for long.

“What do you think of the name Hugo?” Emmeline asked.

“Won’t Sirius be keeping up with his family tradition of a celestial name?”

“Oh, I’ve not asked. Do you think he might?”

Lily shrugged.

“He’s not usually one for his family traditions, but this is one he might wish to keep. Ah, here he is now.”

“What’s happened?” Emmeline asked.

Sirius wore a thunderous expression. Both of his fists were clenched at his side, and his eyes were bloodshot from the tears of anger he’d shed.

“Lily, you need to come with me,” he croaked. “I’ve just had a message from Bones.”

“What’s happened?”

She couldn’t be certain how long she’d been standing amongst the destroyed, empty graves of the Potter family. Each of them had been desecrated, and the bodies stolen.

Of course, it was the ultimate insult, an act of disrespect of the highest order, and it was having the effect on her that Voldemort would’ve desired when he’d done what he had.

Even now, she could feel his magic lingering, and she could only choke back a sob at the sight of her husband’s empty grave and broken headstone she’d had lovingly made for him.

The tears rolled down her cheeks, and at first, she didn’t notice the arm wrapped around her shoulder but knowing that Harry was with her brought something of comfort.

“All of it can be replaced,” he murmured, “and nothing that matters was in there. Riddle proved that a body is only a vessel. Whatever is left of Dad is unreachable, especially by him.”

Lily nodded and choked back a sob.

This was perhaps the vilest, cruellest thing that could be done to her, and though Harry spoke with such sincerity, she knew he felt the same. She could feel his unbridled fury rolling off him in waves, and she couldn’t bring herself to care about what he would do next.

There would be consequences for the this, terrible consequences she was certain she could not fathom, and yet, whatever he decided was a suitable reprisal, it would be well deserved.

“I will arrange to have it fixed,” he promised. “Come on, you’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“To speak with someone about building us a home. We’ve not rebuilt anything all these years, and it’s about time we did. You should have a say in that, and there is land I think you will like.”

Lily nodded and gave her son’s hand a squeeze, and though her own anger would never abate, she chose to not allow it to destroy her. That was what Riddle would want, and in return, she wanted nothing more than to see him suffer for all he’d done.

“I was thinking maybe I would preserve his corpse when he’s dead, so that every morning, I can kick the bastard in the bollocks to begin my day.”

“He’d make for an ugly decoration,” Lily snorted, “but your father would’ve suggested something similar.”

“You’re not wrong,” Harry sighed. “Maybe we can hang the git in Grimmauld Place, right in front of Walburga’s portrait, and she can watch me work him over from time to time. That’s something for another day,” he added dismissively. “Today, we’re going to speak with an architect and finally have a home of our own.”

“You’re not going to want me living with you forever. You’re going to get married and have children…”

“And you’ll be the perfect live-in babysitter for when the little buggers annoy me,” Harry replied with a grin, that did not reach his eyes.

He may be speaking words of comfort and humour, but his gaze was stormy, promising a retribution the Dark Lord could not comprehend, but Lily was grateful for what he was doing for her.

As ever, Harry was putting her first, and before she could open her mouth to protest, he shook his head.

“Your home will always be with me,” he said firmly. “Even if I have to build you a separate house next door.”

“I expect I will be surrounded by creatures.”

“Well, I can’t leave Aurelius on the ranch, and maybe even Norbert will want to come too. Who knows what others I might accumulate. We could have some chickens.”

“Chickens?”

Harry shrugged in response.

“Maybe a manticore, if I can find one.”

Lily could only shake her head.

Despite how miserable and furious she felt, she was quite looking forward to seeing what Harry would come up with when building a home for them. They hadn’t ever truly had one for themselves, not since James had been taken from them.

Maybe it was about time that changed.

She would always be grateful for all that Sirius had done for them, but he was now starting a family of his own, and soon enough, Lily would begin to feel like a burden.

Harry had only reached his majority a matter of days ago, and already, he was a man she was so deeply proud of, and she knew that James would be too with all he’d done and how bright his future was.

Still, there were many obstacles that remained in his way, but she did not doubt that he would overcome all of them, and maybe one day, he might just be able to enjoy the simplicity of owning some chickens.

No, Harry could never be so mundane.

If it wasn’t potentially dangerous, he would likely lose interest quickly, and Lily suspected that he would sooner obtain an entire pack of Graphorns before settling for chickens.

Not that she would be suggesting such a thing.

Her son certainly did not need any other ideas filling his head. His own could often be troubling enough.

(Break)

“They make for quite the sight, don’t you agree, Severus?”

Truthfully, Severus found such magic rather distasteful. He may be an expert in the Dark Arts in his own right, but there were things that he would never delve into, and Necromancy was one of those.

Worse yet, the various generations of Potters milling around the expansive grounds were in various states of decay, and Severus had eyes for only one of them.

Even in death, the visage of James Potter haunted him, and although he felt no guilt for what had befallen him, it was quite unnerving to see the man in such a state.

It served as reminder of why he’d taken the path he had, but Severus did not doubt that he could one day find himself in a similar condition, if Potter’s son proved to be just as ruthless as the Dark Lord.

“I think that is where we differ, my lord,” he answered. “They are not to my taste.”

Instead of being offended, Lord Voldemort chuckled amusedly.

“And that is what sets us apart, Severus. You are an excellent wizard, but you still hold onto the morals that have held you back all these years. Had you taken a similar journey as me, perhaps you would be my equal.”

“I would never profess to be that, my lord. You are incredibly powerful, possess a mind like no other, and the courage many would lack to push the magic you wield to its very limits.”

“Indeed,” the Dark Lord agreed. “Now, I must prepare for the inevitable rebuttal from Potter. I am rather interested to see what it is he comes up with.”

“Nothing good, my lord, and there is Black to worry about. Already, he is targeting me. If it weren’t for my own cunning, his damned elf would’ve caught up to me by now. It follows me everywhere.”

“And yet, it cannot reach you here.”

“No, it cannot,” Severus confirmed.

Nonetheless, it was unnerving to be stalked by the blasted creature and would undoubtedly be much worse if it were to succeed in taking him to Black.

Severus could only imagine the treatment he would be subjected to if either his former classmate, or worse yet, the son of James Potter was to find a way to apprehend him.

It was no secret what had happened to both Barty and Wormtail.

Both had been horribly tortured, had suffered endlessly in their final moments, and Potter had delivered their heads as though they were belated birthday gifts.

Were the boy to learn of Severus’s part in the Dark Lord being told about the prophecy, he could only imagine what it was he would suffer at the young man’s hands.

The thought alone made him shudder, and shooting a final glance at re-animated James Potter, he returned to the house, making a note to himself not to wander the grounds until the Potters were gone.

(Break)

“Fine, I will show you, but you have to have another drink.”

Harry shrugged as he poured them both another measure.

Nymphadora had expected him to refuse the deal, but she should’ve known better than to challenge Harry. He was as competitive as anyone she had ever met.

Reluctantly, she drained the glass he handed her before standing. Removing her robes, she suddenly felt quite nervous, but kept her end of the deal, sliding her trousers down her left leg to show the thick, dark scar marring her flesh.

“Is that it?” Harry slurred. “If you’re worried about that, I should be terrified about showing mine off.”

“I haven’t seen yours.”

With a shrug, he removed his t-shirt, and Nymphadora swallowed deeply.

She was well aware that Harry was no longer a boy, but she’d not been prepared to be greeted by a strongly built man. It was clear he worked hard to be in such condition, and he was indeed covered in a litany of scars.

Some were distinctly feather shaped, and others where his flesh had been torn or burned.

Nymphadora could only shake her head. Already, he’d endured so much, and the war was not over yet.

“Can I…?” she asked, her mouth suddenly feeling rather dry.

Harry shrugged, and she tentatively ran the tip of her finger over the puckered flesh that stretched from his collarbone to near his navel.

“My turn?” he asked with a grin.

She wasn’t sure why she nodded, but as traced the remnants of her wound with the pad of his thumb, her breath hitched in her chest. The skin was sensitive, though not unpleasantly so, and the sensation of his touch sent an apprehensive, expectant even, shudder up the length of her spine.

In her drunken stupor, it felt as though she was truly looking at Harry Potter for the first time, and before she could comprehend was she was doing, she’d pressed her lips against his.

“Oh, shit,” she cursed, shaking herself from her thoughts.

Much of what had happened after was a blur of tangled limbs, and the two of them giving in to their most carnal urges, and although she couldn’t remember every detail, there was enough imagery flashing in front of her eyes to make her blush.

“Bugger,” she muttered, shaking her head.

It had been her.

She had instigated what had happened, but there had been no hesitation from either of them, no questioning what it was they’d fallen into. Worse yet, despite the guilt she felt for being the one to make the first move, she did not regret it.

Nymphadora knew that perhaps she should, but why would she?

Neither she nor Hary were attached to any other, and no one had been harmed by what they’d done.

Maybe it was because of the sudden change in the dynamic of their relationship. Harry had flirted with her from time to time, but not in a way that was pushy or overly suggestive, and he seemed to do that with every one of his other female friends.

Did he regret what had happened?

More than anything, Nymphadora did not wish for things to become awkward between them. First and foremost, they were friends, and yet, that had changed last night to some degree given what had happened between them.

Perhaps stranger than not regretting what had happened, she found that what she did regret was that she could scarcely remember anything other than what had initially occurred that led to them waking up in the same bed.

“You’re very distracted today,” her mother pointed out.

Nymphadora could only nod.

“It’s just one of those days, Mum.”

The other woman hummed and eyed her speculatively before a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Do tell him to be a gentleman, or he will have me answer to.”

“Who?” Nymphadora asked, panicking.

Her mother always was very astute, and it wouldn’t surprise her if the woman could read every thought she was trying to push away from the forefront of her mind.

“Whoever it is you are thinking about,” her mother answered, leaving the kitchen.

Did she know?

How could she?

Nymphadora certainly had not said or given anything away, but her mother was no fool. Even so, it was as though she was going to tell her what had happened between her and Harry. Merlin only knew how she would react, let alone Sirius and Lily.

“Bloody hell,” she cursed under her breath once more.

Despite knowing the fallout it could cause, it did not prevent her once more dwelling on what had happened the previous night; thoughts, it seemed, she could not shift, even if she wanted to, and Nymphadora wasn’t certain that was so.

(Break)

“So, you could rebuild it exactly as it was before?” Lily asked.

“Structurally, yes,” Osbert Gladstone answered. “The foundations are still here, and strong. I will not pretend to understand the magic, Lady Potter, but I expect someone who does can create the most exceptional protections.”

Lily nodded thoughtfully.

The manor that had once sat at the foot of Mount Snowden would undoubtedly have been an incredible piece of architecture. What had happened to it, she didn’t know, but judging by the condition of the remains, it could not have been so many years ago that it had been torn down, perhaps even by James himself.

He'd never spoken about the home he’d grown up in with his parents, but maybe this had been it.

Had Voldemort gotten to it before finding them in Godric’s Hollow?

Lily didn’t know, but that seemed to be more likely than her husband tearing down his childhood home, even if it had become something bittersweet in his eyes after his parents had died.

“I think it could be perfect.”

Harry’s voice was rather sombre, and Lily eyed him questioningly.

A few hours prior, after introducing her to Gladstone, he had taken his leave of the office to take care of something, and evidently, it had left him feeling tired.

“Voldemort did this,” he declared, giving no indication of where he’d been or what he was up to. “I would like for you to rebuild it, Mr Gladstone, but I will be putting the protections in place.”

“Of course, Lord Potter,” Gladstone agreed. “I expect that my company can have the building work completed within two months, maybe a little sooner, but I prefer to get it right than do it quickly.”

“Then I will visit Gringotts and have a deposit transferred to your account today,” Harry assured him. “Oh, here are just a few additional requirements I have, if they’re not too much trouble,” he added, handing the man a roll of parchment.

Gladstone nodded as he read it before placing the addendums into his pocket.

“They will be done, Lord Potter. Now, if you don’t mind, there are some protections I would put in place to secure the land, with your permission, of course.”

“I look forwards to seeing your work,” Harry offered, looping his arm through Lily’s, and began leading them away from what would be their home in a matter of weeks.

“What have you been up to?” she asked curiously.

“Just planning a few surprises,” Harry answered, his eyes flashing dangerously. “He crossed a line last night, and he needs to see the error of his ways.”

Lily could only nod in response.

She did not expect Harry to linger when it came to his response to Voldemort, and judging by his cold expression, whatever he’d decided upon was already in motion.

It was as reassuring as it was terrifying to see her son so introspective, but Lily could not bring herself to be concerned by it.

After what he’d done the previous night, Lord Voldemort deserved everything coming his way.

(Break)

“Is it true?” Minerva asked as she entered the office.

Her accent was thicker than usual, which meant that her temper had already gotten the better of her.

“It is,” Sirius confirmed.

“Poor Lily.”

“She’s with Harry.”

“I expect he is furious.”

“He is quiet, which is worse than when he is vocal. Riddle is not going to like whatever it is Harry comes up with.”

“Good,” Minerva declared as she took a seat.

“As unpleasant as all of that is, that isn’t why I asked you to meet with me.”

“It isn’t?”

Sirius shook his head.

“Emmeline is pregnant.”

Minerva offered him a genuine smile.

“Then congratulations is on order for you both,” she said sincerely.

“Thank you, but it has made me realise that I have taken on too much. I want to be an active father, Minerva, and I cannot do that with all the responsibility I have taken on…”

“Which means that you will be stepping down.”

“Exactly,” Sirius said apologetically. “I only took the job so that Malfoy could be dealt with, without anything coming back to you. If you’re not ready, I understand…”

“I’m ready,” Minerva broke in. “I knew this day would come sooner or later, but I would like to still be able to teach, at least until a suitable replacement can be found.”

“That is your decision to make. I know Alastor will stay on in his position, but I’m afraid I don’t know anyone as competent as you to take your place. Not that anyone could, of course.”

“If he weren’t so preoccupied, I would ask Mr Potter.”

“Harry?” Sirius snorted.

“He could certainly teach what is required for OWL and NEWTs, and even far beyond that. You forget, Sirius, I have worked with him. He truly is like his father when it comes to Transfiguration.”

Sirius nodded proudly as a smirk tugged at his lips.

“There is one thing Harry didn’t do…”

“He did it, and he had the sense of coming to me for assistance instead of self-experimenting in the classroom on the fifth floor.”

“Wait, you knew?”

“I knew, and I thought it would either be a great success for you all, or lesson learned. I did not expect success, but I was pleased by the outcome.”

Sirius could only shake his head.

“Harry…”

“Did it the proper way, with guidance, patience, and dedication. I would’ve thought he’d have shared it with you.”

Sirius frowned and wondered why he hadn’t, and then he realised not doing so was the smart thing.

If he, or any other that knew were captured by Voldemort, that was a significant advantage Harry would no longer have, which was why he kept much to himself rather than sharing it, even with Sirius and Lily.

“What are you thinking, Sirus Black?” Minerva asked as yet another grin tugged at his lips.

“Nothing at all,” he denied, already plotting how he could use the information for a spot of mischief. “What is his form?”

(Break)

His gaze roamed over the members of his inner circle, and he frowned as he realised just how many had been taken from him these past months. Barty, Nott, Wormtail, and Rabastan were the most prominent amongst them, but every last loss was one less capable follower for the Dark Lord to call upon.

Truthfully, he’d not expected such difficulty from one who had been but a boy when he’d begun his resurgence. By now, he was certain Potter would be dead, Britain would belong to him, and he’d already be setting his sights elsewhere for his next grasp for power.

That, however, was not so.

Potter was very much alive, had thwarted him more times than he cared to count, and though it pained the Dark Lord to admit it, the young man was gaining traction in all he was doing, something he could not allow to continue.

“Titus, how likely is it that a vote of no confidence will be declared tomorrow?”

The Minister licked his lips nervously, and he looked towards Lucius for support.

“It is impossible to say, my lord,” he eventually answered when no help was forthcoming. “It comes down to how much they fear you, and how much they believe in Potter.”

He frowned unhappily.

The Dark Lord was well aware how much he was feared. All were terrified of him, so much so that they dared not even breathe his name, but Potter had certainly added to his stock, and most people were damned fools.

If there was anyone in Britain who could rally the other Lords and Ladies against him, it was the newest of their peers.

All that remained to be seen was whether or not Potter was able to play on their gullibility enough to offer him the support he needed.

Not that it truly mattered in the end. No, Potter would die, and the fools would be proven to be so, but it was a setback he could do without.

“Then we must…”

He broke off as a sudden wave of magic washed over the room, a magic all could feel, and one he himself had felt only the night before in the damned village he’d experienced his biggest of setbacks.

“My lord…” Bellatrix whispered, standing as she drew her wand.

He held up a hand to silence the woman as he drew his own and cautiously made his way to the front door of the property.

“My lord, someone is out there,” Lucius whispered.

How they had managed to breach the protections, he did not know, but to have done so was most troubling. Nonetheless, only a damned lunatic would do so purposely, and the Dark Lord opened the door, his mask of fury slipping in favour of one of confusion as he looked upon a lone figure.

“You killed me,” the man whispered.

The Dark Lord remembered him well.

He’d met the man only once so many years prior, but he would never forget one of his very first kills.

“How could you?” he asked. “Your own father and your grandparents.”

Two other muggles appeared either side of the visage of his father, both looking at him disappointedly, but it was the one walking up the path that left the Dark Lord taken aback.

He’d only ever seen a photograph of his mother when he’d visit the hovel she’d grown up in. She had been an unsightly woman, not grotesque, but certainly not attractive, and a young Tom Riddle had been grateful he’d not taken after her in looks.

Even so, to see Merope Gaunt walking towards him was frightening, and more so as she looked upon him with her mismatched eyes.

“Oh, Tom,” she whispered. “You were to be different. You were to be the better of us all. What you’ve become is never what Salazar nor any other of our line would’ve wanted, and now, you have tempted Fate in ways you cannot comprehend. Look at me. You may be able to reanimate the dead, but your foe can bring us back. He has a power that not even you can defeat. You should never have attempted to thwart Death, Tom, it will find us all, even you. He chose his champion to claim what is his, and Death will have his due. Despite what you have become, I still love you as only a mother can, but I can never forgive you for all you have done. You can feel it, can’t you, that cold chill settling into your bones. That is Death, Tom…”

The Dark Lord was frozen to the spot, and he was aware that each member of his inner circle were just behind him, bearing witness to what was unfolding.

He did not know what to say or do as he looked upon what appeared to be his mother, father, and grandparents, but as the woman that had birthed him began to convulse, he almost felt himself reaching for her, but prevented himself from doing so as he eyes changed to a familiar, burning emerald.

“You crossed a line, Tom,” Merope spoke in Harry Potter’s voice, “but anything you can do, I can do much worse. You may have taken the bodies of my family, but I can bring back the very essence of yours, torture and torment them as I please. You have twenty-four hours to return my family to where they rested, or you will receive more and more visitors. Don’t worry, I will leave your mother with you. I do love a long-awaited reunion.”

The woman’s eyes returned to what was her own, and the Dark Lord could only watch as his father, and grandparents screams before exploding in a shower of the coldest of magicks.

Silence fell around him, and Lord Voldemort found himself staring at the vacant expression of his mother.

With a wave of his wand, he attempted to banish her, only for the woman to laugh at him.

“Silly boy, Tom,” she chided. “You have no power over me. I always did wish to see inside your father’s home,” she added, entering the house, and paying no heed to the cloaked figures she stepped through.

He tried again and again with different approaches, to no avail.

Lord Voldemort truly was lost for words. He had never seen such magic, and although he was convinced it was merely a trick of his mind, he could not deny the feeling of cold despair that gripped him.

“Potter,” he whispered.

The boy had done this. Somehow, he had created these…whatever they were and had chosen to torment him in a way the Dark Lord could not replicate, not so readily, at least.

“POTTER!”

There was no response, and as he caught sight of his mother walking around the halls of his father’s home as though she was stopping by for a visit, he shuddered once more, questioning what it was he was truly facing in a foe that once more proved to be more than he could’ve ever anticipated.

(Break)

He took no joy in what he’d done in summoning the dead to haunt Tom Riddle. Well, maybe a little, but Harry doing so was only in response to what had been done to the remains of his own family.

He’d needed to show the Dark Lord that such a transgressions would not go without repercussions, and he’d done just that. If his warning was not heeded, the man would be visited by others in due course.

With a shake of his head, he placed the stone back in his pocket, where he kept his cloak. The elder wand he kept to hand, just in case he had need of it.

It had been a trying day for Harry, which had started in a state of confusion, moving onto one of anger, and another of joy at the prospect of finally starting the process of having a home for him and his mother that was their own.

Now, he wasn’t sure how he felt.

He was still confused about what had happened with Tonks, was still heartbroken and furious at what had been done to the graves of the Potters, but he felt somewhat better about it knowing that Riddle was suffering.

It brought a smirk to his lips, though it faded as a knock sounded at his door.

“When do you ever knock?” he snorted as he opened it to be greeted by the sight of Tonks.

“It was my fault.”

“Knocking on the door?”

She shot him a pointed look.

“No, last night,” she sighed as she entered the flat. “I remember what happened. I was teasing you about drinking more that I would show you my scar if you did.”

“Did I get to see it?”

“Harry!”

He shook his head.

In the grand scheme of everything else that was happening around them, what had happened he previous night did not seem so important to dwell on.

He certainly didn’t blame Nymphadora for it.

“At any point, did I say that we shouldn’t be doing whatever it is we were?”

“No, but…”

“Did you say you didn’t want to?”

She blushed at the question and shook her head.

“Then I think we’re probably making more out of it than we need to. It probably shouldn’t have happened, but I’m not going to pretend I regret it or even feel guilty for it, so you shouldn’t either.”

Tonks was surprised by his logic, and nodded, but frowned.

“Well, what if the only thing I regret is that I don’t remember everything?” she asked.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at her, and yet, he felt the same stirring within him as he undoubtedly had the previous night.

He didn’t remember much of it, only flashes of what had transpired, and it appeared that though Tonks may remember just a little more than him, it wasn’t enough to satisfy whatever curiosity each of them was evidently experiencing.

“Is that what you regret?”

“Don’t you?”

Neither said anything, were both quite rooted to the spot until Tonks rolled her eyes and closed the distance between them.

Once more, Harry knew that it was probably wrong of them to find themselves here, and yet, he did nothing to stop it. If anything, it added to the excitement coursing through him, and he did not hesitate to indulge himself, only this time, there would be no excuses for what it was they were doing.