A Promise Kept - Chapter 7 - Sustained

Sustained

He flicked through the wedding album, smiling sadly at how happy his parents and Sirius had been; young, carefree, and with the rest of their lives ahead of them.

He paid little mind to the others in attendance.

It had been a small affair with less than a dozen people, most of whom Harry had never met but had heard stories of.

Of course, he knew his mother and Sirius well, but had never met Remus Lupin or Peter Pettigrew, though the latter, Harry had vowed to meet, just not under circumstances the man would find enjoyable.

The others, he did not know, nor had he cared to ask.

Those that mattered were James and Lily Potter, and Sirius Black, the man that had held everything together for him and his mother since the night James had been murdered.

Halloween was always a sombre affair for all of them, but this was the first time Harry had been away from his mother, and he knew she would be lamenting on the short marriage she and his father had shared.

Life truly was cruel at times, but in this case, it was the cruelty of one that had caused such pain and loss.

Harry swallowed deeply, doing his utmost to keep the anger he held onto at bay.

Someway, somehow, he would make Voldemort and his followers pay for what they had done; especially those that had escaped unpunished for their deeds.

It was a knock at his door that pulled him from his thoughts, and though he was reluctant to do so, he answered it.

Olivia offered him a sad smile, holding up a plate of food she had evidently brought him from the Great Hall.

“I know you’re probably not hungry, but I needed an excuse for you to answer the door.”

“Why would you need an excuse?”

Olivia shot him a pointed look.

“It’s Halloween. It’s an important holiday here, but I know what it means to you. Can I come in?”

Harry nodded and stepped aside.

There was no reason to be impolite, even if he did wish to be alone.

“What is that thing?” she asked, nodding towards what was in the corner of the room.

“Punchbag,” Harry said with a shrug. “It’s a muggle thing.”

Olivia pushed it and watched as it swayed back and forth.

“You punch it?”

She seemed rather baffled by the implement, and her expression elicited a chuckle from him.

“Punch, kick, you can even headbutt it if you like.”

Olivia shook her head.

“Muggles are strange,” she declared. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. It must be hard for you.”

“It is.”

“Well, I have something for you, and for your dad,” the girl said proudly. “From what you’ve told me about him, he would like it. You’ll have to come with me if you want to see it.”

She said nothing else as headed towards the door, and Harry followed, taking a seat by the fireplace next to her.

“What…?”

Olivia shushed him and shook her head.

“You just have to wait.”

Harry did not miss the look of mischief she wore, and when the Wampus guarding the door hopped aside only a few moments later, the girl was practically trembling with anticipation.

The students began filing in from the feast to celebrate the holiday, and Harry frowned in confusion.

Nothing happened, but before he could open his mouth to speak, a loud bang sounded throughout the common room, and it filled with a thick green smoke.

“What is happening?”

“Are we being attacked?”

“What is that smell?”

It took several moments for it clear, and when it did, Harry turned sharply towards Olivia, who was barely containing her laughter.

Every last one of their housemates were now sporting a themed costume. Among them was werewolves, mummies, witches sporting green skin with warts on their noses, and even vampires, ghosts, and zombies.

“Who is responsible for this?” Adrian demanded to know.

It was difficult to take the prefect seriously when he was dressed as what appeared to be a vampire version of Little-Bo Peep, holding a shepherd’s crook.

None answered, and though some were amused by what had happened, others were horrified.

No harm was truly done to any, but screams sounded throughout the common room, whilst some attempted to undo what had happened, with little success.

“It will wear off in a few hours,” Olivia said dismissively.

“You did this?”

“It was my idea, but I had a little help.”

Harry frowned, but he caught the gaze of Adrian, who gave him a conspiratorial wink.

It hadn’t made him forget just what had happened on this day so many years prior, but Harry would not deny that it had improved his mood.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely to the girl enjoying the spectacle next to him. “I think my father would’ve enjoyed this.”

“Come on, Potter, you’re on the last ones. I don’t get to leave until the house is empty!”

He closed the lid of his trunk before shrinking and pocketing it.

“I’m coming,” he huffed, opening the door to be greeted by the sight of Adrian waiting impatiently for him.

“Do you want to stay for Christmas?” the prefect asked.

“No, but making you late makes me happy.”

Adrian shook his head and shoved him towards the statue of the Wampus, where Olivia was waiting for him with her hands on her hips.

“What took you so long?”

Harry merely shrugged.

In truth, he’d made a last-minute trip to the library to return some books, only to be distracted by some others he was keen to read over the holidays.

“Come on, I expect we will be the last ones to get a carriage,” Adrian grumbled, ushering them out of the common room.

“Last ones to get a carriage,” Harry snorted as they arrived at the courtyard.

There were still dozens upon dozens of students saying their goodbyes to friends and handing over gifts before filling the long row of carriages.

“Bye, Harry. I hope you have a great Christmas!”

“You too,” Harry called after Sabine Van Droombeeld, who offered him a bright smile as she continued on her way with the same group of girls he had seen with around the castle.

“You’re friends with her?” Adrian questioned, a troubled frown creasing his brow.

“We speak if we see each other. Why?”

Adrian released a deep breath and gestured for Harry and Olivia to join him in one of the nearby carriages.

“What do you know about the Van Droombeeld family?” he asked when the door had been closed behind them.

“Nothing much,” Harry admitted. “My godfather has mentioned them and just said it is best not to look for trouble with them.”

“He would be right,” Adrian sighed. “Between the Van Droombeelds, the Winthrops, Goodes, and the Abbots, they all but own wizarding America. Not officially of course, but their combined power is more than enough for presidents to be elected or removed from office, if you know what I mean.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“I’m not trying to tell you who you should and shouldn’t be friends with, but you have to be careful with any from those families. Their reputations are not without more than their fair share of controversy and dirty pasts.”

“You’re talking to the heir of the Black family.”

Adrian grimaced.

“You know what I mean. Listen, the girl might well be one of the good ones, but her father is far from it, and seven of her older brothers have passed through Ilvermorny since I have been here, and let’s just say they take after their father. There have been incidents, not this year mind, and the rumour is our former headmaster left because he was unable to do anything about them. Each of the families has a member on the board of governors here, and they’re more than willing to cover for one another. You’d think that so many wealthy and powerful families would be at odds, but not those four. They realised long ago that there was little they could get away with so long as they looked out for one another. Just bear that in mind, Harry. The Van Droombeelds and their kind of friendship rarely comes without a price or expectation. I’m just looking out for you.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good, but like I said, I might just be being overly cautious. The girl might be one of the better ones. It’s not as though she has any stake in anything, not really. Just like the rest of them, she will likely be married off to one of the other families to solidify the alliance.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Won’t you have to do that?” Olivia asked.

Harry frowned questioningly.

“She’s got a point,” Adrian murmured. “I don’t know much about how British families do things, but with you being the next Potter Lord and Black for that matter, I imagine you won’t be able to marry whoever you want.”

Harry shook his head.

“My father did, and my mother won’t try to marry me off. Sirius wouldn’t either. He hates all the traditional stuff.”

“But to protect the legacy of his family, he might be compelled to,” Adrian warned. “If you’re going to be the Lord of his family too, it might be something worth discussing with him. There could well be some magic in place saying you can only marry a certain kind of witch.”

“Great,” Harry groaned. “I’m not even old enough to think about that and it might already be decided for me.”

Adrian ruffled his hair as he laughed amusedly.

“Well, you can’t have everything,” he said a little too gleefully for Harry’s liking. “Anyway, I want you both to shut up for a little while whilst I enjoy the last bit of peace I will get for the next few weeks.”

Harry was more than happy to comply as he pondered another fearful thought that would now plague him.

Olivia seemed to understand his predicament and offered him something of a comforting smile.

“You too?” he asked.

The girl shrugged.

“Maybe. It’s not come up yet.”

“We can always just run away together and get married if the worst happens.”

“So, you would just want me as an escape? Thanks, Harry.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

Olivia hummed.

“Just, shut up.”

He did so, and none of them spoke for the remainder of the journey down the side of the mountain until they bade farewell to one another.

Olivia hurried off to her waiting mother and father, and Harry didn’t hesitate in greeting Sirius and his own mother, who wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“Get off, Mum,” Harry protested. “People are looking.”

“I don’t care.”

Harry deflated and allowed the woman to hold him close.

It had been difficult for her these past months, and it wasn’t as though he would be home for so long.

“What have you done?” Harry asked, not missing the mischievous expression of his godfather.

“Nothing,” Sirius denied.

Harry did not believe him for a moment, and even less so as his mother shot him a look of irritation.

“Let’s just go home,” she urged. “You’ll see.”

Harry frowned at his godfather, who held up his hands innocently, though he did not have to wait long to see what Sirius had done.

“Snow,” Harry whispered, a bright smile cresting his lips.

Sirius nodded enthusiastically.

The entire main yard of the home and the house itself were blanketed in a thick layer of it, but before Harry could truly appreciate what his godfather had done, something impacted against the side of his head.

He narrowed his eyes at the grinning culprit, her hair shifting through a myriad of colours at the joy she was experiencing.

“Hello, Nymphadora,” Harry greeted her. “Stood on any small, helpless creatures recently?”

Her hair remained red, showing the irritation she felt at Harry using her full name reserved only for her parents.

“No, but that might just change.”

She surged forward, but Harry had anticipated it, and he hurriedly and swiftly resized his broom before mounting it and taking to the sky. It was the only way he knew he would be able to escape her.

Not even apparating after him would do the older girl any good.

“GET BACK HERE, POTTER!”

Without thinking, Harry returned with a gesture he knew would see him in trouble with his mother, and chancing a glance over his shoulder, he could see the irate woman waiting for him to return.

He would do so and take whatever punishment was coming to him, but not until he’d made one stop first.

The was another he needed to see, and he’d promised to do so the moment he returned home.

Seeing Aurelius galloping across the field towards him with the rest of the griffins in tow was one of the things Harry had been looking forward to the most these past weeks, and he laughed at the sound of his longtime friend squawking in delight, even when he was sent on his backside by the eager creature.

“I missed you too, boy,” he said affectionately as Aurelius ruffled his golden feathers, squawking once more for all to hear. “I missed you too.”

He didn’t know how long he stood petting and reassuring the griffin, but Harry knew he should make his way back to the house. It was beginning to get dark already, and it would be time for dinner soon.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” he promised Aurelius.

The griffin huffed unhappily and nipped at his fingers.

It was a playful protest he’d always made since he’d been young, and though it was not a pleasant sensation, Harry knew he meant no harm by it.

“I will see you in the morning,” he reaffirmed. Petting the griffin once more before mounting his broom.

As ever, Aurelius and the herd followed until Harry was by the back door and knew he had made it home.

The creature had always been protective of him, much like the woman waiting for Harry as he entered the kitchen.

Lily Potter was indeed displeased with his behaviour, her nostrils flared and her arms folded across her chest.

“I did not raise you to be so rude, Harry Potter.”

“Managed that myself,” Harry murmured.

His mother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Did you say something.”

“Not a thing.”

Her nostrils flared once more.

“I think you have an apology to make, don’t you?”

He could see that both Sirius and Ted Tonks were doing their utmost to hide their mirth and harry deflated dramatically.

“I’m sorry, Nymphadora for being rude to you.”

It wasn’t believable, but the girl evidently did not wish to engage in a back and forth between them that would leave them both equally irritated.

“You’re forgiven. Now, come and see on my knee and tell me all about how little Harry is doing at school.”

“I’d rather sit on some Venomous Tentacular.”

“That can be arranged,” Nymphadora warned.

“Enough, both of you, or I will have Sirius draw up a marriage contract for you,” Andromeda warned.

Harry grimaced at the thought, and Nymphadora glared at him, not missing the expression.

“And what would be so terrible about marrying me?” she asked.

“That list would take until after Christmas to finish,” Harry said dismissively.

“I said enough!”

He fell silent.

Harry had no intention of provoking Andromeda Tonks further.

She may not carry the name any longer, and if things panned out how Sirius intended, he would be the Head of the family one day, but that didn’t mean he was stupid enough to annoy the woman.

Andromeda was scary when she was only irritated, and Harry did not wish to see her truly furious.

“That’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said, his gaze shifting towards his godfather.

“Marrying Nymphadora?”

“No, marriage,” Harry huffed. “Is there anything that says I can only marry certain people?”

Sirius shook his head and released a deep breath.

“Strictly speaking, Harry, you can marry anyone you like. Bloody hell, I didn’t think I’d have to have this conversation with you so soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there aren’t any contracts that need to be fulfilled, and there is nothing stopping you marrying whoever you want.”

“But?” Harry pressed, seeing his godfather was rather disturbed by his questioning.

“But you will need to consider it when you are of an appropriate age, especially the type of woman you marry.”

“Meaning?”

Sirius looked towards Harry’s curious mother before shaking his head.

“He means that you will have to really consider marrying a pureblood and perhaps should.”

“Why, because of being the Black heir?”

“No, not just that,” Andromeda assured him, “but because although the Potters have always been rather accepting of muggles and muggleborns, they have still always been a proud, traditional pureblood family, for the most part.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Harry, you’re eleven,” Andromeda pointed out, “but as Sirius rightly said, it is something you must consider when you’re older. Even so, as the Lord of your family, you can marry whoever you want. You shouldn’t make yourself miserable for the sake of tradition.”

He nodded his understanding.

“Great,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Well, at least I don’t have to think about it for at least another few years.”

He took his leave of the kitchen, his appetite all but gone and his mood having become rather dour.

Harry knew it wasn’t the end of the world, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about marriage, but knowing that one of his future choices could well be taken away from him or even tarnish his families legacy was not something that left him in the best of spirits, despite being happy that he was home.

(Break)

Albus frowned as he reflected on how the school year had progressed thus far.

As expected, there had indeed been a rather sharp increase in unpleasantness between the houses, particularly between the Gryffindors and Slytherins.

The influx had yielded an additional tension, and the likes of Draco Malfoy had certainly not helped the situation.

Albus had hoped that given the humbling experience Lucius had endured at the end of the war that he would urge his son to be a little more reserved in his judgement of others, but Draco was somehow worse than his father had ever outwardly been during his time here.

Oh, Albus did not doubt the man had always harboured ill-will towards muggles, muggleborns and even half-bloods, but he’d at least had the intelligence not to be so openly prejudice.

Draco had not inherited his father’s ability to hold his tongue and had regularly been caught antagonising his peers.

Even so, the ongoing incidents between the houses was not what was at the forefront of the headmaster’s mind.

No, that was reserved for his troublesome Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Not only had Quirinus taken it upon himself to slaughter unicorns in the forest in a bid to sustain whatever it was he was hosting of Tom Riddle, the man had unleashed a troll upon the school during the Halloween celebrations.

Although he had inevitably failed to find the stone belonging to Albus’s former mentor, the outcome could have been tragic had the staff not intervened to remove the threat.

“He cannot be allowed to remain,” Severus spoke, voicing Albus’s own thoughts on the matter.

He nodded his agreement.

“Indeed.”

“Most of the students are gone for the holidays, Albus. Now is the safest opportunity we will have.”

“The safest opportunity I will have,” Albus corrected. “You are to have no part of this.”

“I am to maintain my façade.”

“You are. We may thwart him now, but you know as well as I that he is perhaps the most brilliant and creative wizard of our age. If there is a way for him to return, he will find it.”

Severus’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he conceded the point reluctantly.

“How do you intend on stopping him?”

“I think perhaps I will present him the opportunity he seeks,” Albus explained, “and for that, I may well need your subterfuge.”

Severus frowned.

“What do you have in mind, Headmaster?”

“All in good time, Severus,” Albus sighed. “Ah, Fawkes, did you manage to deliver it?”

The phoenix trilled half-heartedly as it placed the wrapped package on the desk, and Albus frowned.

“Not quite,” he mused aloud, unsurprised his companion was not successful. “Well, I am sure it will reach him eventually. Thank you, old friend.”

(Break)

Harry had learned not to rise so early on Christmas day.

Sirius had always been much more of a child than him when it came to the holiday, and the man hyperactively bouncing from room to room in the house singing Christmas carols had worn thin the time the radio his godfather had been carrying exploded, covering Harry in a green paint that had taken days to fade away.

Not that he begrudged Sirius his happiness.

According to his mother, even as a teenager he had enjoyed the day, and always spoiled those he cared for.

Eventually, however, Harry knew he would not be able to avoid emerging from his room, and as he did so, it was to be greeted by an impatient Sirius Black waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, his Santa hat askew from where he’d been fidgeting with it.

“It’s about time,” he huffed. “Presents!”

Before Harry could wish him a Merry Christmas, Sirius was gone and judging by the protests of his mother and Andromeda, had made straight for the presents.

“Harry is not up yet!”

“You will wait!”

“He’s coming down the stairs!” Sirius groaned. “Let go of my ear.”

The man was pouting when Harry entered the room, and Andromeda had yet to relinquish the hold she had on him.

“See, I told you he was coming,” Sirius huffed.

“And you will allow him to eat his breakfast first,” Andromeda insisted, dragging the protesting man into the kitchen and siting him at the table.

“Do you purposely make him wait?” Nymphadora asked amusedly as the others followed.

“Patience is a virtue.”

The older girl grinned in response as she took her seat, and Lily began placing food in front of each of them.

“I’m not hungry,” Sirius said petulantly.

“If you don’t eat all of your breakfast, you won’t get any presents,” Harry chided, doing his best to mimic his mother’s tone.

The woman shot him a pointed glare, and he quickly busied himself with his own food, taking a little longer than usual to irk his godfather further.

“Now can we open presents?” Sirius asked when their plates were finally cleared.

Lily rolled her eyes at him before nodding, and he beamed, seizing Harry by the sleeve of his pyjama shirt and dragging him back into the adjoining living room.

“Get off!” he huffed irritably.

“Presents,” Sirius replied, already digging into his own pile of gifts.

With a shake of his head, Harry followed suit.

Being a first year at Ilvermorny, he’d only had catalogues at his disposal to complete his own shopping for the year but had managed to secure suitable gifts for his friends, Sirius, and his mother.

His godfather barely paid any mind to the bottle of cologne that would change scent with his mood Harry had gifted him, but he would acknowledge when his excitement had abated.

“Thank you, Harry,” his mother said appreciatively as she held up the new set of silver spoons he had gotten her for her extensive potion kit.

She often brewed, and Harry had spent much of his childhood assisting her in her work, though now he thought about, he likely hindered whatever it was she had been working.

He smiled at the many memories of slaving over a boiling cauldron with the woman.

Harry was not a terrible potioneer, but he’d certainly not inherited his mother’s flare nor passion for the subject.

“Who is that from?” she asked curiously, nodding towards the scarf he’d just unwrapped.

It was a deep emerald green, matching his eyes.

“Isabelle,” he said dismissively.

His mother quirked an eyebrow at him, but Sirius immediately stilled at the mention of the name.

“A girl is already buying you gifts?” he teased.

“Four girls, actually,” Harry returned with a shrug. “It seems I’m doing better than you.”

Sirius puffed himself up challengingly.

“I’ve had more girls than you’ve had hot dinners.”

Harry grimaced at the thought, and his mother glared at the man, who wilted and continued unwrapping his presents.

“Has little Harry got a girlfriend?” Nymphadora teased.

“Jealous?”

The girl scoffed, and his mother looked at him questioningly.

“They’re just friends, Mum. Isabelle is from France, Marisa is from Brazil, and both Maggie and Olivia are from here somewhere.”

“What about boys?”

“Adrian and Wendell are both from here too.”

“Wendell,” Sirius snorted amusedly.

“You’re named after a constellation,” Harry pointed out.

“As am I and my daughter,” Andromeda interjected.

“Well, your names suit you both,” Harry replied, shooting the scowling Nymphadora a grin.

Andromeda hummed, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at avoiding a scolding from the woman.

She was supposedly the nicest of the Blacks, but Harry was still wary of her.

“Do not even think about it!” his mother warned as Sirius made to leave the room. “Since you made most of the mess, you get to clean it up.”

Sirius muttered under his breath as he began doing so, and Harry inspected his own pile of presents.

Along with the scarf he had received from Isabelle, he’d gotten a rather sizeable hamper of sweets from Olivia, a wooden charm of sorts from Marisa that he would need to ask her about, a broom cleaning kit from Maggie, and a book on magical creatures that could be found in the southern states of the country from Wendell.

In all, he was pleased with his gifts and was glad he’d had the foresight to ensure he’d purchased presents for the others.

More so, he was grateful for being back home for a short break from schooling, and although it was Christmas day, he would spend some time with the herd of griffins, and perhaps even go for a fly with them before lunch was served in a few hours’ time.

(Break)

“Come along, Isabelle, we’re going to be late.”

“Coming.”

She made a final adjustment to broomstick pendant that Harry had gifted her for Christmas, smiling fondly at the recent memories of the boy teaching her and Maris to fly. Under his guidance, they had both managed to learn the art well enough.

Neither had made a fool of themselves in front of the rest of the school when the classes had commenced in early October, and Isabelle found she even quite liked doing it.

Harry had been particularly patient with her.

She’d needed to build the courage to commit to certain movements atop a broom, but thanks to him, she had eventually managed it.

In all, he’d spent more than a dozen hours with them, and the pendant served as the perfect memento to her achievement.

“Are you ready?” her mother asked as she entered the entrance hall of their home in Bordeaux.

Isabelle nodded, and her mother’s gaze roamed over the dress she had chosen before pausing briefly on the pendant.

“A gift from a friend.”

Before her mother could press her for further information, her father joined them, muttering under his breath as he fiddled with the strap of his watch.

“I’m fine, Valerie” he assured her mother, throwing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and gesturing for her to go first.

She did so, and Isabelle’s father offered her a warm smile.

“You look beautiful, my little angel,” he said fondly. “After you.”

Isabelle gave him a brief but warm embrace before following her mother and was immediately set upon by her cousin as she arrived at the Delacour home.

Sebastien was her mother’s brother and was a senior member of the Ministry of Magic in France.

According to Isabelle’s mother, his marriage to a Veela had come as quite the surprise, but it was clear her aunt and uncle loved one another dearly and had two children to show for it.

“Isabelle!” Gabrielle greeted her. Excitedly.

Being born only two months apart, they had grown up together, but Isabelle had opted to attend Ilvermorny instead of Beauxbatons, much to Gabrielle’s disappointment.

Isabelle had simply desired a different educational experience to the rest of the family, and she’d certainly gotten that thus far.

She accepted the embrace of her cousin, had missed the girl, but she did not regret her decision not to join her at the French premier school of magic.

“You look well,” Gabrielle offered.

Isabelle smiled as she was led away from where others were arriving for the Christmas ball Sebastien was hosting. As a senior member of the Ministry of Magic, it was something he was obliged to do, and Apolline certainly enjoyed planning and executing it.

“Am I your excuse to escape?” Isabelle asked.

“A little,” Gabrielle answered with a shrug, “but I was only waiting for you. How has school been?”

“Not what I was expecting, but in a good way.”

“So, you won’t change your mind?”

Isabelle shook her head.

“No,” she said apologetically, “but you could.”

“No, it will be difficult enough in France when my maturity comes along. The Americans don’t have any Veela colonies there, so I don’t know how I would be treated.”

Isabelle nodded her understanding.

Although there wasn’t bigotry towards muggleborns and half-bloods as there was in parts of Europe, America was not perfect by any stretch.

“When did you start enjoying flying?” Gabrielle asked curiously, taking hold of the gold pendant she was wearing.

“Since I learned how to do it,” Isabelle answered.

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at her, and Isabelle looked shyly towards the tops of her shoes.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” Gabrielle teased. “Do you have a crush on your flying instructor?”

Isabelle frowned.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

Isabelle shrugged.

“I was scared to learn to fly,” she admitted, “and one of my friends helped me and another friend learn how.”

“You’re still not telling me everything.”

Isabelle deflated.

“Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter?”

“He taught me how to fly. He’s one of my friends at school.”

Gabrielle blinked in response before her eyes widened.

“Harry Potter is at your school?”

“Yes,” Isabelle sighed, laughing at her cousin’s sudden shift in demeanour.

“What’s he like?”

“He’s really nice. Not like what you would think he would be. He’s just Harry.”

“Just Harry.”

Isabelle nodded.

“He’s quiet mostly, but he sometimes pulls pranks, and he is a brilliant flier. He gave me the pendant for Christmas.”

“Wow,” Gabrielle whispered. “Does your mother know who it is from?”

“No.”

Gabrielle’s eyes lit up with mischief before she hurried off, and Isabelle gave chase, but in her dress and shoes, she could not keep up.

“Aunt Valerie, you’ll never guess who gave Isabelle her necklace!” Gabrielle said a little too gleefully when she found her mother, and much to Isabelle’s embarrassment, her father, Aunt Apolline, Uncle Sebastien, and Cousin Fleur were with her.

Her mother looked towards her questioningly, but Isabelle refused to speak. Gabrielle, however, did not hesitate, and though it irked her, Isabelle could not deny she’d rather her cousin reveal it than be inevitably questioned by her mother later.

She just wished it wasn’t in front of the others, but she certainly wasn’t ashamed by the gift, nor who it came from.

“It’s from Harry Potter!”

Isabelle did not flinch as her family stared at her, each sporting a look of surprise.

“Harry Potter?” her mother asked.

“He’s my friend.”

“He taught her how to fly a broom,” Gabrielle explained.

Her mother offered her a smile.

“That was nice of him.”

It was one of the things Isabelle had been most worried about learning at school; something she had shared with her mother and father before leaving France back in September.

She nodded.

“He is nice, Mother,” she replied sincerely.

(Break)

Albus could feel the tension as he sensed his compromised Defence Against the Dark Arts professor approaching. As per his plan to lure Quirinus here, he’d quite openly taken his leave of the castle, only to return without any being aware of him doing so.

For several hours now, he had been lying in wait, and as he heard the clinking of potion vials from the adjoining room, he knew that his trap had worked.

Quirrell was dangerous, and under the guidance of the Dark Lord, even more so, but Albus was as prepared as he could be for what was to come.

Despite Riddle’s influence, he was still weak, and Quirrell undoubtedly weakened by hosting him in whatever capacity he was, but Albus was still taking no chances.

He watched as the man entered the room, no worse for wear for the obstacles that would’ve hindered him, but noticeably pale with eyes only for the mirror that was hosting the stone.

Even if the worst was to happen, Quirinus would not be leaving with Nicholas Flamel’s greatest achievement.

“Find it!”

The voice was one Albus was familiar with, though much of his experience of speaking with Tom Riddle had been with him being a young boy, attempting to charm those around him.

“Shall I break it?”

“No, this is Dumbledore’s work. It will not be so simple.”

At the very least, Tom respected his prowess with magic, and now Albus needed was for Quirinus to trigger the trap laid out for him.

His grip tightened around his wand whilst he waited patiently, watching as Quirrell circled the mirror in a bid to find his way to the stone, filled with anticipation as the man reached out a hand towards it.

“No, do not touch it!”

Albus felt his heart sink as Quirinus carefully backed away, his expression one of nervousness as he scanned the room.

“Master, we are not alone,” he whispered.

Albus’s presence had been undetected until now. With how emotional and excited the man had been, he’d overlooked it, but that was no longer so.

Quirinus’s gaze flittered around the large stone chamber as he backed away from the mirror, but his retreat would be for nothing. Albus had accounted for such a possibility, though if he was to succeed in preventing Quirrell from fleeing, confronting him was now inevitable.

Internally preparing for what was to come, Albus revealed himself, only to have to nimbly move aside as a familiar, sickly green spell was hurled towards him.

What immediately became clear was that Quirrell was quite desperate, and the attacks quickly became relentless as he continued with his casting, forcing Albus to defend himself.

Even so, it did not escape him that Quirinus was fighting only to flee.

Albus was a much more experienced wizard, and though the man had the support of the Dark Lord and even something of his presence about him, he was not Tom Riddle.

Nonetheless, that did not negate the danger he posed to Albus or school now that he was within, and as the Headmaster continued fending off the assault, he knew he could not remain doing so.

He had been caught so unexpectedly by the sudden, ruthless attack that he had been unable to find his own rhythm, but this was nothing new.

During the many duels he’d had with Tom over the years, he’d often found himself in a position where he was being overpowered, but Albus seldom relied on such.

No, he was much more calculated in his attack, much more creative, and that had always been Tom’s shortcoming.

Oh, he was an incredibly talented and powerful wizard and did not lack his own creativity when he did not allow himself to become consumed by his lust for sheer violence, but it was the one true weakness of the man.

For much of his life, he had simply overpowered and overwhelmed his foes until they could no longer stand against him, but Albus had never fallen victim to the tactic.

Perhaps one day, Tom would indeed prove to be too much for him to handle. Even now, Albus was hard-pressed to fend off the attacks, but he was not so old that he no longer could, like so many others before him.

Nonetheless, there was a desperation about Quirrell that Tom had never shown, and it only made him more dangerous, more reckless, and more unpredictable.

Even over the din of the spells being flung, Albus could hear Tom screaming instructions, though he could not discern the words.

Quirinus, however, could hear them, and as he offered yet another flurry that needed to be negated, he aimed his wand towards the ceiling.

The spell he unleashed caused the entire room and perhaps castle shake under the force, but Albus was granted no time to consider the length and breadth of the reverberation.

Immediately, he found himself needing to protect himself from the falling debris, and though he managed to well enough, he found himself buried beneath the rubble.

Using his wand, he managed to clear them quickly enough, but as he emerged from the devastation, it was to find that Quirinus had managed to escape, much to his chagrin.

“Headmaster?”

Severus assisted him out of the last of the displaced stone, and Albus could only shake his head.

“He is gone, Severus,” he sighed tiredly. “I did not expect such fierce opposition given his condition.”

“The unicorn’s blood,” Severus murmured. “It must have been sustaining him better than we anticipated.”

“Indeed, but it offers me no comfort. Now, there is no telling what he will do.”

“Until the Dark Lord is strong enough to stand on his own two feet, he will keep himself hidden,” Severus mused aloud. “His risk did not pay off here, and he will have other plans.”

“If he allows Quirinus to live.”

Severus frowned.

“What alternative does he have?”

“I do not know,” Albus replied honestly, “but I must search for him, and Lily should be warned. Quirinus may have given himself willingly to his master, but he is not himself. There is much more to him now, a power I could not have foreseen.”

“Do you think the Dark Lord is taking his body for himself?”

“If such a thing is possible, I do not doubt he will, but I have never heard of such a thing, nor can I think of how it would be done. I must ponder it, Severus.”

It was a most undesirable outcome to his efforts, one he had evidently not prepared well enough for, and yet, all that came to the forefront of Albus’s mind was the prophecy spoken to him many years prior.

“A power the Dark Lord knows not…” he murmured to himself, his mind once more wandering to what such a power could possibly be.