A Promise Kept - Chapter 71 - Contractual Woes

Contractual Woes

“You know, you’ve gotten into the habit of visiting me more than Albus did,” Grindelwald said amusedly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the gifts.”

He did.

Harry did not miss the appreciative smile from the former Dark Lord when he arrived with an array of foods, and books for him to peruse.

“I like to think Albus would be grateful for it.”

Grindelwald nodded and smiled sadly.

“He would,” he replied quietly. “Despite what happened all those years ago, he will rest easier knowing you are checking in on me. I never thought I would see the day that a Potter would be doing so, not without hatred,” he added, taking a bite out of a cauldron cake Harry had brought along. “You look tired.”

“It’s not easy being the Minister of Magic.”

Grindelwald scoffed, his eyes widening before he unleashed a bark of laughter.

“Oh, Albie would get a kick out of that. How did you manage it?”

“The goblins,” Harry huffed. “They had something I needed, and they wanted Riddle’s follower ousted, so, I went for it, and was voted in.”

“That must make you the youngest Minister of Magic in history.”

Harry nodded.

“It does, but honestly, I have someone else doing most of the work for me. I will support Arthur to replace me when this is all over.”

“So, it isn’t your position that has you down,” Grindelwald mused aloud. “You’re not the kind of man to lose sleep over your enemy. Is the war taking its toll on you? Is it beginning to play on your conscience?”

Harry released a deep breath and shook his head.

“No, and that is what worries me. I have done terrible things to others, tortured some of them to death. I don’t enjoy it, but I feel no guilt for it either.”

“Your enemies,” Grindelwald interjected. “What you do is to your enemies. You must remember, Harry, what was done to you as a boy has left quite the mark. You grew up watching your mother living in fear that these people would come for you. To you, they are monsters. Now, do you believe you could do what you’ve done to them to someone you believe to be innocent?”

“No,” Harry denied immediately.

“And that is the difference between you and Voldemort. There is a darkness in you, Harry, I can see that, but you are a good man. Many would argue it is our actions that define us, which is true to an extent, but it is our motivation for our actions that also matter. You do not seek power nor do you enjoy the suffering of others. You do, however, possess an apathy towards those that have wronged you, and that is okay. Tell me, when the war is done, what do you intend to do?”

“If I could, I would vanish into the shadows.”

“And that is where you are similar to Albus. Unfortunately, he had so much thrust upon him because he could never say no to those who needed him. Britain needed him. He hid from much of it in Hogwarts but could never fully escape it. You are different to him in that you fell no obligation to try to heal the world, and you already know that. All of the things you have done, and will do, are to put an end to a nightmare that has haunted you your entire life, and you are doing an admirable job. I can think of so few others who could follow your example. It takes considerable gumption, and yet, you remain aware of the unique circumstances that have led to your actions. This part of your life need not define the rest of it. Think of it more of a necessary moral deviation to what you know to be the norm, temporary measures that must be taken for you to even have a chance of something beyond.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, feeling somewhat better.

“That isn’t all, is it?” Grindelwald asked. “There is something else more personal weighing you down. Ah, I see it now, a matter of the heart.”

Harry frowned at the amused man.

“No, I did not use Legilimency on you,” he chuckled. “I do not need to, not when the expression you adopted is one I have seen marring my own features these past years.”

“Dumbledore.”

Grindelwald nodded and swallowed deeply.

“Albus and I…”

“Were in love.”

Grindelwald snorted but didn’t deny it.

“Such things, even now I expect, are not accepted, but yes, I like to think we were in love. Of course, before we could truly begin to explore it, everything went horribly wrong. I have spent many, many hours in here pondering just what may have been had things been different. Would we have found a way, or were we always destined to be apart? I cannot answer that question with any certainty, Harry. What I can say without doubt is that if there is one thing I regret, it is that I will never truly know if there was a way for us, even the slimmest of chances at happiness.”

“Did he feel the same?”

“Yes, perhaps even more strongly than I did. Albus always believed that love would find a way to flourish, that the world was built and maintained by it. Many would think him a fool, but my happiest memories are with him. He never said so, Harry, but he loved me as I loved him. I could see it mingled with the disappointment he felt in me. Whether you take my advice or not is your choice, but if you love someone as much as I suspect, and they feel the same for you, you must find a way, or you will spend a long life regretting it, and living in a state of wonder of what could have been. If Albus was right about his thoughts on love, the world will find a way of making it possible. Even for us, it did to an extent. Albus did not kill me, and we had our moments here, alone. Not what they could’ve been, of course, but it was something I treasure more than anything else.”

It was odd to hear such a man speak so sincerely, uninhibited, and unashamedly.

“She’s getting married to someone else.”

“By choice?”

“No, but there is a contract in place. It is just about as ironclad as anything else, and if she flouts it, she will lose her magic and likely die.”

“I see,” Grindelwald sighed. “Have you explored every possible avenue?”

Harry nodded.

“Everything I can think of.”

“And what about the ways you have yet to consider. In my experience, Harry, there is always a way. No matter how unlikely or improbable, there is a way.”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Well, for a start, why don’t you tell me about her. How did the two of you meet?”

“That is quite a long story.”

“Well, believe it or not, I am rather fond of a romantic tale.”

Harry could only shake his head as he began to recount the very first meeting he’d had with Sabine Van Droombeeld to a most unlikely of audiences.

Still, it was almost therapeutic to speak of it with someone that had no true vested interest in him or his love life,, and Grindelwald listened to his every word with rapt attention, only interrupting him a few times to offer his input.

“You speak of her with such fondness,” the former Dark Lord praised, “and just like Albus, I refuse to believe there is not a way that it cannot be. If it is meant to be so, it will happen, Harry. Now, I think you have wasted enough of your time here. Go on, you have a country to run, don’t you?”

With a nod, Harry bade the man farewell, unperturbed by just how much each of them had divulged to one another, and even a little saddened that a young Gellert Grindelwald had allowed his ambitions to destroy what may have been between him and Dumbledore.

Even Harry, in his inexperienced years could see on reflection that both men had always been somewhat lost without one another, had lived, but neither as they would’ve undoubtedly preferred.

He did not wish to be like them, and yet, that did not change just how impossible his own situation appeared to be.

Even so, perhaps Grindelwald was right, that there was a way yet to be found, or maybe just like him, he too would be destined to live a life questioning and wondering what could’ve been had the circumstances not been what they were.

(Break)

He hummed thoughtfully as he perused The Daily Prophet, internally cursing Potter for his damned reforms, undoing all of his meticulously planned efforts, and implementing his own.

It was nothing new.

Since the boy had taken office, he had done so with gusto, leaving no stone unturned.

Already, many arrests of the former members of the group tasked with rounding up the creatures who’d failed to register had occurred, with many more expected in the coming days.

From Dark Lord’s understanding, most had already gone to ground, and would be of no use to him.

He shook his head as his gaze roamed to the next article.

Sirius Black had officially stepped down as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and had been replaced by Minerva McGonagall, a formidable witch in her own right, but not nearly as troubling as Black.

With the need to secure another foothold on the country, perhaps he could exploit this change.

Something had to give, after all.

For weeks now, his luck had changed, and not for the better. His efforts were proving to be lacklustre, his followers more and more despondent, and Lord Voldemort could not deny that his conversation with Gregorovitch had left him feeling quite disconcerted.

The thought of Potter wielding such weapons as the Deathly Hallows against him was most troubling, and yet, he was comforted in the knowledge he had his fail-safes, just in case he needed them.

Not that he intended to rely upon such an eventuality.

No, now knowing what it was he was possibly facing, the Dark Lord would be prepared for it, and not even being the Master of Death would be enough to see Potter to victory.

“Hogwarts,” he murmured, his focus shifting once more to the article.

Yes, obtaining control of the school would be a most useful addition to his crumbling empire, but how to take it?

That would be no easy feat.

However, the Dark Lord had built his reputation on doing what no other could, and claiming Hogwarts for himself would remind them all, his followers and enemies alike, of just who Lord Voldemort was.

That would make them forget about all Potter had done.

If Hogwarts was to fall whilst he was in charge of the country, it would mar the boy in doubt, sully his reputation as a strong leader, and the Dark Lord would be able to implement the castle, the many weapons within, and unleash them upon his enemies.

Potter may have a dragon at his disposal, but not even such a beast could come close to the might of a one-thousand-year-old basilisk the Dark Lord could call upon.

The very thought brought an anticipatory smile to his lips, and he felt the need to celebrate his stroke of genius.

Taking his leave of the study he had been pondering his predicament within, he made his way towards the ground the werewolves were camped in.

Fenrir would appreciate the opportunity to allow his pack to feed, and it certainly would not hurt to remind everyone that, despite Potter’s best efforts, he was far from being defeated.

If anything, his setbacks had only reignited his desire to bring the country to heel, to show that nothing any could do would ever be enough to truly defeat him.

The Dark Lord could not deny that it had undoubtedly been something of a period of adjustment for him facing such a foe, and although it had been most inconvenient suffering so many losses these past months, the war was far from over.

He would kill Potter, and when the blasted fool had joined Dumbledore in the afterlife, there would be no other to stand in his way.

Yes, with Potter’s death, Britain would be his for the taking, and there would be no other who possessed a modicum of threat towards him to stand in his way.

(Break)

“You’re worried.”

“Aren’t you?”

She slammed her hand on the vanity table she was seated at, her temper finally getting the better of her. For too long now she had remained silent, as expected, had watched as her daughter’s misery had consumed her more and more, and she could simply not continue to do so.

“I am petrified,” she whispered dangerously, “and I am ashamed that this is what it has come to. The two of them despise one another. It is not the same as it was for us, Augustine. We may not have had the best start, but we at least had mutual respect to build upon. Even Marcus had that.”

Her husband’s eye twitched at the mention of the eldest son, who had been more than outspoken about his thoughts on his sister’s marriage.

“I have done all I can!” Augustine repeated for the umpteenth time. “I am not a fucking miracle worker.”

“No, you are not,” Valerie returned sadly, “but it is Sabine who will be living an unfulfilling life, an unhappy life. I want you to remember that whilst you are giving her away to that lazy-eyed, sorry excuse of a man. You, you at least had ambition, brains, and are easy on the eyes, but the Winthrop boy is a few ingredients short of being a completed potion, and his face looks as though it has been shut between some elevator doors. Not even his personality is redeeming.”

“I’m easy on the eyes?”

“I’ve seen uglier men,” Valerie replied folding her arms. “If there is one thing I will ever ask of you, Augustine, after giving you so many children, is that you find a way to not see my only daughter suffer this. Fix it!”

She stormed from the room and Augustine Van Droombeeld dragged a hand through his hair.

Winthrop would never allow the contract to be broken, not for all the gold in the family vault. For him, it had become a matter of pride, and prideful men were stubborn to the very core.

This, he feared, was one thing he could not remedy, but at the very least, he needed to try once more.

With his wife’s plea ringing in his ears, he nodded to himself, pausing as the door to the bedroom opened once more, and his one and only daughter entered the room.

“Winthrop isn’t going to let me marry his son,” she declared.

“He isn’t?”

Sabine shook her head as she smiled sadly.

“Not when he finds out that I’m pregnant.”

He needed to be certain that he’d heard correctly that his unmarried daughter had just informed him that she was pregnant, and that he wasn’t imagining it.

Augustine felt his heart sink into his stomach at the realisation that followed, and a sudden fear gripped him.

“Potter?” he whispered.

Sabine frowned at him as though he’d asked the most foolish of questions.

“I would never let any other man near me,” she answered.

“Well, shit,” Augustine murmured. “Oh, shit.”

His daughter had the audacity to smile once more, but Augustine could not see the joy in the situation. When Winthrop inevitably discovered what had happened, the man would be quite apoplectic, and were Potter to learn of it, the man would tear through the entire known world to protect his son and daughter, and there would be nothing that could stand in his way.

“Oh, shit,” Augustine repeated. “Wait, no, you can’t be. If that was so, the contract would be broken, and you would be…”

Sabine shrugged as she drew her wand, lighting the tip of it.

“How?” Augustine asked himself. “No, the babe should be dead, and you without your magic.”

Sabine shrugged once more, and Augustine began to pace back and forth, pondering the predicament.

“It has been weeks since I saw him, months,” his daughter pointed out. “I didn’t know for certain until last week.”

“You’ve seen a Healer?”

“I am a woman.”

Augustine shook his head.

“We must confirm it,” he whispered. “This doesn’t make any sense. Fetch your mother, and I will send for a discreet Healer. Something is not right, and we must get to the bottom of it.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t suggested I get rid of it,” Sabine snorted.

Those words hurt.

“I would never…”

Augustine broke off.

Given how the past couple of years had been he truly could not blame his daughter for believing that he might make such a suggestion, and yet, it still stung to know that was what she thought of him.

“Fetch your mother, Sabine,” he instructed, his mind awash with disbelief at the development, and the fear he was feeling unshakeable.

This was not good.

If it turned out that Sabine was pregnant, which he did not doubt, heads would roll, and Augustine knew in which direction he would put his money on.

Still, Winthrop would be a problem, and Potter, even more so, and other than confirming the pregnancy, Augustine did not know where to begin.

Something had either gone awry or was amiss with the contract, or perhaps there was another factor he had not yet considered.

He would need to look into all possibilities, yet, for now, he needed to allow a cooler head to prevail before an inevitable, almighty uproar was caused within the magical community.

(Break)

“It is beautiful,” Lily whispered looking up at the large house.

There was still work to be done on the grounds, and undoubtedly within, but where it had been an expanse of overgrown trees, plants, and some crumbling stonework stood a magnificent home, more stunning than she could’ve imagined whilst looking over the plans of the architect.

“It will be ready in only a few works,” Harry explained. “I have landscapers coming in the next couple of days, and then people to finish off the interior. I don’t really have any ideas for how I would like it decorated.”

It was one of those things that her son was out of his depth with.

“Do you need me to help?” she asked amusedly.

“I was hoping you’d figure it out.”

Lily rolled her eyes at him.

“Fine,” she agreed, “but you should still have some input on it. It is going to be your home.”

Harry nodded and gestured for her to follow him around to the back of the house where they came upon another building, much more modest than the first, but no less grand.

“This will be a space for you,” he explained. “You’ve not had that for a long time, and now you do. You can do whatever you like with it.”

Lily smiled appreciatively.

“I could have quite a large potions room,” she mused aloud.

“I’m not surprised,” Harry grumbled. “Anyway, I just wanted you to see it…”

“And rope me into taking charge of the decorating.”

“That too. Ah, here he is.”

Sirius whistled appreciatively as he approached.

“That’s quite some home,” he declared.

“Built as it was before it was destroyed,” Harry confirmed.

“I remember Charlus mentioning it. Something about his great grandfather losing his mind and burning it to the ground.”

“Well, it’s been rebuilt now…”

“Ready for another generation of Potters. I bet the view from the roof is something. You have the mountains, and I’m certain there’s a lake nearby.”

“A lake?” Harry asked curiously. “I didn’t see a lake.”

“To the west of here, I’m sure of it.”

Harry frowned as he looked towards the direction his godfather had pointed, but the view was blocked by treeline.

“I’m sure the architect would’ve mentioned a lake,” he murmured, vanishing, and reappearing on the roof of the main house.

Sirius followed, as did Lily, and she looked towards the man after she’d taken in the scenery. There was a river in the distance, miles of rolling hills, and the mountains to the south.

“There isn’t a lake,” Harry pointed out.

“Ah, well I thought there was,” Sirius sighed, suddenly nudging Harry with his shoulder.

Lily screamed as he fell from the roof, and drew her wand, only for Sirius to laugh, though it didn’t last as he was set upon by a rather impressive falcon, which turned into her son when the man had begged for mercy enough.

“You fucking idiot,” Harry huffed. “Minerva told you.”

“She did,” Sirius confirmed with a grin, wincing as Lily thumped him on the shoulder.

“I almost killed you!” she whispered dangerously, slipping her wand back up her sleeve, “and you, when did you become an Animagus?”

Harry shrugged.

“A few years ago, and yes, I had supervision. It was completely safe.”

Lily could only shake her head in response.

Her son carried many secrets, far too many for one so young, but truthfully, she was proud of him, and knew James would be too.

She remembered when she’d learned of his own transformation, and how majestic he was as a stag. Having mastered the patronus charm, that pride and love for her husband had manifested itself into a doe as her guardian.

“A falcon?” she sighed. “I can only imagine just how much trouble you’ve caused.”

“I may have shit on Bellatrix’s head in Knockturn Alley.”

Sirius snickered, and Lily was lost for words.

That was exactly what she would expect from her son, so, she wasn’t surprised by his antics. If anything, it was a relief to see that he was somehow keeping hold of that mischievous side, despite how trying these past years had been.

“I imagine there’s a lot of people who wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “She’s made plenty of enemies…”

He broke off as a Lynx patronus arrived and spoke gravely in the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Harry, there is a werewolf attack underway in Aldershot. Bones is rallying the Aurors to respond.”

“I’ll gather the Order,” Sirius declared, vanishing immediately to do so.

“Go with him,” Harry urged. “I’ll see you there.”

Before Lily could protest, Harry was gone, and she could only shake her head.

Of course, he would be heading straight to Aldershot, but fortunately, it wasn’t as though Bones would linger. No, she would arrive in a matter of moments with every Auror at her disposal.

Even so, it was concerning.

It was unclear just how many werewolves Greyback had accumulated during his absence on the continent, but if the last attack was anything to go by, they would arrive with their backs against the wall.

Not that it was anything new.

Until recently, that was how they had been fighting the war, yet, slowly but surely, the tide was once again changing.

Still, any attack by a pack of werewolves led by Greyback was never a good thing and knowing exactly what awaited the Order when they arrived, Lily braced herself.

Inevitably, much blood would be spilled tonight, and she could only hope it was not that of her friends, or what little family she had left.

(Break)

She watched as her parents fretted, and Sabine couldn’t blame them.

When she’d first discovered she was pregnant, almost a fortnight prior, she’d expected a significant backlash and had said nothing in preparation of losing her magic.

A day had passed, then two, and three, and yet, nothing seemed to have happened. When a week had come and gone, she’d thought that perhaps she’d made a mistake, and that she wasn’t pregnant, but having done another plethora of tests, both muggle and magical, she knew he hadn’t.

How the magic of the contract had not recognised what she’d done, she didn’t know, and though she remained fearful of the repercussions, for now, she was too busy enjoying watching what was unfolding in front of her.

It hadn’t been intentional.

She would’ve never dome that to herself or Harry, and the two of them had even been safe, each and every time they’d found themselves in a compromising position.

How she’d become pregnant, she didn’t know and could only surmise that it was either something of a miracle, or just another curse on her existence.

“So, what is the news, Healer Jones?” her mother asked.

“Pregnant,” the man sighed. “The babe is strong, and healthy, as is your daughter. I can find nothing in her own magic to suggest she is suffering any ill effects.”

“Impossible,” her father whispered. “The contract…”

“I cannot speak to the nature of the contract, Mr Van Droombeeld, but I can to the state of your daughter. She is with child, around a few months gone, and doing admirably. Of course, I will be happy to monitor her as and when it is needed. If there is nothing else?”

Her father shook her head.

“Send me the bill, Healer Jones,” he sighed, “and your discretion will be most appreciated.”

The Healer nodded as he left the room, and her father rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“I am at a loss,” he murmured. “You’re supposed to be getting married in two-days-time. What the hell are we going to do?”

“You’re going to have to tell Winthrop,” her mother sighed. “You’re certain that Harry is the father?”

Sabine frowned at her mother, who held up a hand.

“I only ask because you cannot keep this from him, Sabine. Maybe he will have an explanation.”

“Winthrop is going to kick up one hell of a stink about this,” her father huffed irritably. “He will not like it at all.”

“I would be more concerned about Harry’s reaction if Winthrop takes exception to it,” her mother said gravely. “He will not be intimidated by him.”

“No, he will not,” her father agreed. “What a mess. The question is, who do we tell first?”

“Marcus,” Sabine answered. “He will be able to find Harry.”

Her father nodded, his skin quite pale, and her mother gave her hand a squeeze.

“I don’t know what is going to happen…”

“Maybe nothing,” Sabine said with a shrug. “Winthrop won’t allow his son to marry me, but that doesn’t mean Harry has to either. No matter what, I will be having this baby, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop that. Neither of us planned for this, but maybe it is fate.”

“Fate?”

Sabine shrugged once more.

“Hary believes in it, so why shouldn’t it be real?”

Her mother had no answer.

Instead, she gave Sabine’s hand another squeeze, though she suspected she did so to comfort herself more than her.

Even so, the prospect of all coming to light filled her with a sense of fear.

What if Harry didn’t care?

What if he no longer wanted anything to do with her?

Sabine didn’t know how he would react, but she knew him well enough to know that her fear was ridiculous. He would never shun her, nor any child, but that didn’t mean he would have to do anything beyond looking after their child.

That thought alone filled her with sadness, and yet, she regretted nothing. All of those snatched moments, the times they’d spent together made whatever was to come next more than worth it, in her eyes.

(Break)

It wasn’t so difficult to find the werewolves, who had chosen to attack the centre of Aldershot Town.

The sound of screaming and snarling was what greeted Harry in all directions, and he knew they would have their work cut out for them.

Wasting no time, he levelled his wand towards a marauding werewolf who crossed his path, and the beast yelped as he caught it in the side with a searing curse, drawing the attention of others in the process.

It wasn’t anything new for the Minister of Magic but being set upon from various directions by creatures intent, and more than capable of tearing him limb from limb would never not be troubling.

Nonetheless, he did not remain idle, waiting for them to reach him. IN response, he conjured a ring of fire around himself and used his wand to lash out at each as they pounced.

Although the numbers were certainly stacked against him, the one advantage he did have outside of being able to use his magic was that the werewolves were feral, disorganised for the most part, and single-minded.

It was their speed, ferocity, resilience, and numbers which made them so dangerous, as proven by how many he found himself fending off.

The fire he’d conjured would not kill them and wouldn’t even necessarily keep them at bay for long, but for now, it must suffice until the Aurors inevitably arrived to rally against the creatures.

“Not now,” Harry muttered as, through the heat of his spell, he could feel a sudden chill begin to seep into his very being.

Dementors.

Contending with a pack of werewolves was one thing, but adding Dementors to the mix was another entirely.

Fortunately, he need no longer face either alone, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he sensed the arrival of dozens of witches and wizards, granting him a moment of reprieve, and allowing him to catch is bearings.

Aurors.

Led by Amelia Bones, they immediately set to work dispersing the werewolves, who evidently, were quite displeased by the interruption.

Taking a moment to assess the situation, Harry ducked into a nearby alley before transforming, launching himself in the sky to get a better view of what was unfolding below.

For every Auror, there appeared to be two, perhaps three werewolves, meaning they were significantly outnumbered, a concerning revelation that needed to be remedied quickly less the forces of the Ministry become overwhelmed.

Reverting back to his human form, Harry landed on the roof of the town hall and placed the tip of his wand to his throat.

“A MINIMUM OF GROUPS OF SIX,” he instructed. “LETHAL FORCE IS GRANTED!”

There would be those on the Wizengamot quite displeased with his decision, but Harry did not care. He would not see the Aurors needlessly killed, not when permitting them to defend themselves sufficiently was left to his discretion in such situations.

The threat against them and those living here was imminent, considerable, and needed to be treated as such.

Not that the Aurors would be alone.

Spotting Amelia Bones leading a group only a couple of streets over, Harry navigated his way towards the woman, who found herself hard-pressed to fend off a trio of werewolves who’d set their sights on her.

“Lethal force?” she asked as Harry assisted her in neutralising the threat.

He nodded grimly as he banished a broken length of a picket fence towards a charging werewolf.

It screamed as the projectile slammed into its chest, and though it slowed down its advance, it was not enough to stop it.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Lethal force,” Harry confirmed as Bones’ killing curse finished off the wounded creature. “There are hundreds of them.”

Bones nodded grimly, and though there was more than a little reluctance from the other Aurors who’d witnessed what she’d done, they followed suit. Soon enough, the night sky was filled with green flashes as the werewolves found themselves facing a resistance like no other.

Mixed with the eerie, haunting green was the glow of the patronus charms being used to keep the Dementors at bay. Even so, the former guards of Azkaban remained relentless in their desire to feast upon the souls of the Aurors, who fought for all their worth to prevent them from doing so.

For Harry’s part, he too continued to fight, felling werewolf upon werewolf, barely avoiding being bitten more than once, and one even came close enough that he could smell its breath.

It had already been feasting on human flesh, which prove to be its last meal.

Wrapping it up using a scorching hot chain, Harry listened to it howling and watched as it thrashed around desperately in a bid to escape, only for the chains to become tighter, so much so that the howling became a wheeze as its final breath was squeezed from it.

“They’re fleeing!” Bones declared.

Harry looked on as the werewolves began to scarper, and he placed his hand on the chest of one of the Aurors to prevent them from pursuing the pack.

“We should hunt them down!”

Harry shook his head.

“From here, they will run into the nearest woodland to hide, and they will pick you all off. You’ll be in their element, and too many will die.”

“Ah, I didn’t think of that.”

Harry nodded, disappointed that they wouldn’t be putting an end to Greyback’s pack this evening but bolstered by the sight of the dozens upon dozens of dead werewolves in the street.

War was a bloody affair, and death was the norm.

He was just grateful that he would not be overseeing so many funerals of Aurors compared to how many werewolves would be scraped from the pavement.

“HARRY!”

His mother almost knocked the wind out of him as she pulled him into her arms, and he held her equally tight.

“I’m fine,” he assured her.

She nodded, but that didn’t stop her fretting over him, much to the amusement of Amelia Bones, who cleared her throat.

“Minister, there is quite the gathering of reporters arriving. They will want a word with you.”

“Thank you, Madam Bones,” Harry muttered, shooting the woman a glare before heading towards the gathered journalists.

Evidently, news of what was happening here had spread quickly, and for the first time since taking office, Harry would need to address the media after such an event.

(Break)

“Aldershot, apparently. It’s been awhile since the last, so we should’ve expected it really.”

“It will be interesting to see how the Ministry of Magic handles it. With Potter in charge, who knows what will happen.”

“With Potter in charge, something might damned well be done about it.”

Marcus listened to the conversation of the men in The Leaky Cauldron. It was one thing finding a way to contact Harry when he’d not been the Minister of Magic, but doing so now, he’d expected to be much more difficult.

“Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to Aldershot?” he asked the barman.

“Well, if you don’t know the way, you’d best get the Knight Bus. You can summon it just outside by raising your wand.”

“Thank you,” Marcus replied gratefully, heading out of the pub through the front door, doing his utmost to calm his warring thoughts.

Sabine was pregnant with a child that did not belong to her intended, and Marcus could not be happier.

He despised Winthrop, and though he was worried about the implications of such a revelation, he knew that Harry would do whatever he needed to ensure Sabine was as safe and well as possible.

He’d proven that already.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus. My name is Stan Shunpike, your conductor. Where would you like to go this evening?”

“Aldershot,” Marcus answered as he climbed aboard the purple bus.

“That will be five sickles, and will sir require a bed or a toothbrush for an extra three.”

“Is Aldershot far from here?”

“No, and as you are the only passenger aboard, we will be there in just a moment.”

Marcus nodded appreciatively and handed over the fee, barely making it to a nearby seat before a loud bang sounded, and he was forced into it. Immediately, Marcus felt queasy, and wondered just how anyone could tolerate such a form of transportation.

He suspected, much like himself, those that did resort to using it were desperate, or unable to apparate.

“Aldershot,” Shunpike announced. “Oh dear, I do not think it is a good idea to get off here.”

Marcus looked out of the window to see hundreds of cloaked or robed figures milling about. The streets were littered with dead bodies, both human and canine-like, and he realised what it was he’d come upon.

Werewolves.

There had been a werewolf attack here, but fortunately it was over.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” he assured the conductor. “Thank you.”

“Whenever you need a ride, the Knight Bus will provide.”

“I’ll remember that,” Marcus snorted, having no intention of ever using it again. “Hell, what a mess.”

He could only shake his head at the damage wrought here and fought the urge to vomit as the smell of blood, and other bodily fluids assaulted his senses.

Still, he pressed on, pushing his way through the crowd in a bid to find the one man he’d come to see, and as he caught sight of a plethora of camera flashes, he knew he was in the right place.

It was hard to imagine someone so young being tasked with running an entire country, and yet, given what he’d witnessed for himself in just the last few moments, Marcus knew such a man was needed.

He was needed elsewhere to, but as he approached, he was seized in a strong grip of a large Auror.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“To speak with Harry. If you just explain that Marcus Van Droombeeld needs to see him…”

“Marcus, what are you doing here?”

He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the approaching Sirius, who gestured for the Auror to release him.

“I need to speak with Harry. It’s urgent.”

“Urgent?”

Marcus nodded, his gaze shifting towards Harry who was eyeing him questioningly.

He quickly finished off his interview before approaching, his robes and hands covered in blood from his part in the fighting here.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

Marcus released a deep breath.

“It is not for me to say, Harry, but I need you come with me. Sabine needs you.”

He merely nodded in response before barking some orders to some nearby Aurors. When he was done, he removed a small piece of wood from within his robes, murmuring for a moment until it flashed blue.

“One of the very few perks of the job,” he explained before taking Marcus by the arm, the shared journey inevitably about to change the young man’s life.

Whether it was for the better remained to be seen, but Marcus had faith in Harry Potter, and just a little hope that all would be well.