All For You - Chapter 28

Chapter 28

He knew it would take quite some time to unravel the web of corruption contained within the files Ghost had given him, but the further into the archives he delved, Harry couldn’t help but think it could be an all but impossible task.

At the very least, it would undoubtedly be the most intricate and delicate task he’d ever undertaken.

Each case would have to be studied thoroughly to ensure not even the minutest of details was missing, and only then would he be able to begin making comparisons of similarities to identify any links between them.

It turned out that what had happened to Amelia’s parents was only one of dozens of incidents that had been buried by someone, or a group, who did not wish for it to be scrutinised too closely.

Whoever it was had gone to great lengths to achieve it, but Harry was certain he had much of the puzzle now, though he needed to search for the pieces before he could even begin putting them together.

Checking the clock on the wall in the basement, he carefully began securing the space he’d set up.

Harry’s intention was to set up a timeline of sorts that he could view, along with information on any people mentioned within the cases, to highlight the similarities he had already noticed within some.

From there, he would be able to decide what his next course of action would be, but the very first process alone would be arduous, and it was not something that could be rushed.

No, Harry needed to be certain of everything before considering what his next move would be.

With the section of the basement secure from all but him, he checked the clock once more.  

It was only eight in the morning, but Amelia had left for her shift before sunrise, and Harry intended to arrive at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before nine am to meet with Head Auror Grimm.

With the hour approaching, Harry left the house, ensuring his charms were in place to obscure his features, and arrived in the alleyway opposite the entrance to the Ministry of Magic.

Being no stranger to flushing himself down a toilet, he stepped into the atrium without breaking stride and followed a passing crowd into the golden lift, bypassing the man on security, who paid him no mind.

‘Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement,’ the feminine voice announced, and Harry stepped out of the lift, vividly aware that he’d not visited this part of the Ministry.

The entire office space was a hive of activity.

In a large, open-plan room, red-robed men and women went about their business, along with an assortment of what Harry deduced to be support staff, who were carrying stacks of parchment or reading them diligently before stamping them with the official Ministry seal.

On the opposite side of the room was a curved hallway with dozens of doors lining the walls on either side.

“Excuse me, could you point me towards Head Auror Grimm’s office, please?” Harry asked a passing woman.

She frowned, and her eyes roamed over him before she pointed in the direction of another door close to the hallway but within the open space.

“And a pleasant day to you, madam,” Harry offered with a sarcastic smile as he made his way towards the door before knocking on it.

“Come in,” an irritable voice instructed.

Harry did so and was greeted by the sight of the man he’d seen only briefly in Hogsmeade.

Were it not for the seriousness of the situation that brought him here, he might have found it difficult not to be amused by Auror Grimm’s appearance.

From the thick moustache resting atop his lip and the haircut that reminded Harry of a wrestler on one of Dudley’s posters, Grimm cut quite the strange figure.

“Mr Jameson, Bones did mention you would be stopping in today.”

“Amelia mentioned you were keen to begin,” Harry replied, accepting the proffered limb.

“Very keen,” Grimm returned. “We can’t have a repeat of the other night. I was saying to Smith that it must be avoided at all costs.”

Harry nodded.

“Well, I think it would be best if I worked with smaller groups,” he explained. “I would say no more than five, and I must warn you, this is not a simple spell to be taught in only a day of practice. It can take months to master it. I am sure you are aware of the process of casting a corporeal patronus.”

“I am.”

“Well, this might well be more difficult than that,” Harry cautioned the man. “I don’t expect everyone will be able to do it, but they should all be given the opportunity to learn. Even being able to keep fiendfyre at bay is a most useful skill.”

“Understood,” Grimm assured him. “and thank you, Mr Jameson.”

“Harry is fine, but I would prefer to keep my involvement quiet. I have no issue with you and Smith knowing who I am, but I would remain anonymous to the other members of your team.”

“Of course,” Grimm allowed. “When would you like to begin?”

“You can ready a group for me now,” Harry replied. “I just need a room with space. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be casting the spell,” he added with a chuckle, seeing Grimm’s look of concern.

“Can you do it?” he asked curiously.

“I can, but I wouldn’t advise it,” Harry snorted. “You don’t introduce Dementors to people practicing the patronus, do you?”

Grimm shuddered at the thought.

“I’d rather we didn’t use the bastard things at all,” he muttered. “I’ll take you to our training room, and then I’ll bring the first five in.”

Harry nodded and followed the man after obscuring his features with his hood.

As they made their way through the office, he was acutely aware of the dozens of pairs of eyes trailing them, though the Aurors looked away as Grimm glared in their direction.

“He we are,” he announced as he pushed open a door on the other side of the open plan area. “This should do.”

“It will,” Harry confirmed.

“Good. I’ll just go and round up some of my lot, and there’ll be all yours.”

Grimm left, and Harry readied himself by ensuring there was enough space for them to work in. only a few moments later, Grimm returned with five of his Aurors, only one of whom Harry recognised.

“Alright, you sorry bunch of so-and-so’s,” he huffed. “This is…well, it doesn’t matter who he is. He’s here to help us learn how to deal with fiendfyre. We are lucky to have him, and you will show us the same respect you do me, understood?”

“So, none then?” Moody questioned with a grin.

“Watch it, Moody,” Grimm warned, pointing at the Auror. “This is one thing you can’t fanny about with.”

With a nod, he left the room, closing the door smartly behind him, leaving Harry faced with training a small group of Aurors.

This wasn’t like how he trained his fellow students during his fifth year at Hogwarts, nor was it the same as being a professor in the same setting.

These were already established witches and wizards, and Harry found it odd that he would be teaching them.

“I have been asked by your superiors to attempt to teach you how to combat fiendfyre,” he explained. “How many of you were in Hogsmeade?”

All five raised their hands, and Harry nodded.

“And what do you remember feeling when you were there?”

“Scared,” one of the two women answered. “It was terrifying.”

“Exactly,” Harry replied. “There’s no shame in being scared of something that will incinerate you before you even know what is happening. What else did you feel?”

“Worried,” another answered.

“Pissed off,” Moody added.

“All emotions that fiendfyre feeds off,” Harry pointed out. “To understand how to fight it, you must first understand the magic itself. Fiendfyre is not a spell as such; it is a summoned magic much more akin to a magical creature. It is sentient to an extent, and the things you described to me are the things that fuel it.”

The Aurors seemed to be surprised by the information, but none spoke, and Harry continued.

“The first problem with fiendfyre is that it does not take someone of particular skill to use it. The flames are summoned with a simple incantation, but it is the emotion the user feels that brings it forth. All of those things you mentioned can be used, which means that just about anyone has the potential to do so. How many of you have been trained to use the Patronus Charm?”

Once more, all five of the Aurors raised their hands.

“Then you will understand the complexity of using the required emotions to power that spell. It takes practice and dedication to produce a corporeal patronus. How many of you have managed that feat?”

Only Moody and one other raised their hands.

“So, using fiendfyre is the opposite of the Patronus?” one of those who didn’t raise their hands asked.

“No,” Harry denied. “It’s not a foolish assumption to make, but the opposite would insinuate that it required equal skill but using negative emotions instead of positive ones. No, fiendfyre thrives on volatile and sudden emotions: anger, jealousy, hate, and desperation. It works best when cast in a fit of rage or desperation but not so well using prolonged negativity. If the person had done so in such a way the other night, I suspect that there would be nothing left of Hogsmeade. The reason it was so difficult to snuff was because it was feeding off the fear, the worry, and the anger of those trying to fight it.”

“So, it was our fault?”

“Absolutely not,” Harry assured the woman. “You cannot blame yourself for not understanding the nature of what you faced, nor the actions of the person who summoned it. You all did what you could in a moment of desperation, and truthfully, your efforts saved many lives. You should be proud of what you managed. If you weren’t there, it would’ve been worse.”

The Aurors nodded, but they didn’t seem to be convinced.

“How do you fight it?” Moody asked curiously.

“Now, that is where the difficulty begins,” Harry sighed. “Understanding what it is you are fighting against is one thing, but fighting it is another matter entirely. Fiendfyre is a devastatingly powerful form of magic; it is much like exactly what it feeds on. It is volatile and angry and will even become desperate when it senses it is being bested. How many of you are trained in the Mind Arts?”

The five Aurors looked distinctly uncomfortable by the question, and Harry held up a placating hand.

“I’m not trying to get any of you in trouble,” he assured them. “I understand that the Mind Arts are frowned upon for stupid reasons, but if you have experience in them, it will help with what I am trying to teach you.”

“I have,” Moody declared.

“And me,” another added.

Harry nodded.

“Well, for you that don’t, there is another way I can help you,” he explained. “Now, this isn’t just going to happen immediately. As with many other similar skills, like the Patronus charm, it will take time to develop. The two of you that has experience with the Mind Arts are going to help me. All of you, get into a circle.”

They did so, and Harry joined them, placing himself between two of the Aurors unfamiliar with Occlumency.

“The first thing you need to understand is that you are not going to overpower fiendfyre. It is raw, volatile magic which is as powerful as it is dangerous. What did you feel when you were trying to fight it? Forget the fear and anger. Think about what the magic felt like.”

“It was strong,” one of the Aurors answered. “And it seemed to get stronger the harder we fought.”

Harry nodded.

“it accepted your challenge,” he explained. “When you try to face it head-on, power for power, it will rise and only grow stronger until it consumes you.”

“So, what, we let it win?” Moody asked.

“No,” Harry denied. “The only way to defeat it is to starve it. As I said, fiendfyre is somewhat sentient. It is summoned most successfully through the weakest of emotions and it will continue to feed off them to sustain itself. However, it envisions itself as an all-powerful being, and rightly so, and when it is challenged by power, it flourishes just as much, but there is more than one way to challenge it. Despite its volatility, it is single-minded in destruction and relies on those things that power it to remain prevalent. The other way to challenge it is to starve it of what it thrives on. It will sense your lack of fear and will become focused on you in an attempt to instil it within you. At first, you may need to deter it a few times to centre yourself appropriately, but once you have conquered a state of fearless, it can be subdued and defeated.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” Moody snorted.

“It does,” Harry agreed, “but it works.”

The Aurors seemed to be sceptical, and Harry couldn’t blame them. He’d felt the very same way when he’d been taught about the cursed flames.

“Take each other’s hands,” he instructed, “and close your eyes.”

They did so, and Harry took a moment to allow a sense of unimpeded calmness to wash over him, something that had taken him months to perfect through his practices in the Mind Arts.

When he felt it, he pushed that feeling into the two Aurors he was standing between, and both gasped.

“Focus,” Harry instructed, not wanting them to become overwhelmed by the sensation. “Good, now pass it along.”

It was no easy feat to do so.

Emotions that were not your own were particularly difficult to project, but with a little effort from both, they managed it.

Moody and the other Auror who had experience in Occlumency found it much easier to maintain, and along with Harry, they kept that feeling of calmness passing through the circle.

“This is the state you need to achieve,” he murmured. “Once you can call upon this feeling at will, you can defeat fiendfyre. Through the chaos around it, it will only be able to focus on the one thing it cannot feast on. It wants you to become its food, and in losing itself focused on you, it will starve.”

He held the circle together for a few more minutes, saying nothing else as he allowed the others to become more familiar with the state of ease before releasing the hands of the two Aurors.

“It might seem a little simple and anticlimactic, but it is not so easy, especially when you are faced with it,” he explained. “It is paramount that you manage to master that sense of calmness, even in the direst of circumstances. Fear feeds the fire, but it is your immovable sense of calmness that will defeat it.”

“Unbelievable,” Moody chuckled. “I was thinking we would learn a complex spell or a new magic.”

Harry shook his head.

“You’d be surprised how often something seemingly more basic is the answer,” Harry replied amusedly. “Remember, just because the solution may seem simple enough, mastering it is another thing entirely. You must practice this regularly.”

“Aye,” Moody said thoughtfully.

“How do we become so calm?” one of the other Aurors asked. “I’ve never felt that before.”

“And that is where the difficulty lies,” Harry answered. “As with a Patronus and the overwhelming sense of happiness, a sense of calmness is whatever works for you. What I find to be so calming may not be the same for another. That is why it takes practice. You must find what can bring you that sense of calmness and learn to call upon it.”

“But I can’t even produce a patronus,” the same Auror pointed out.

“Show me what you can do,” Harry instructed.

The woman seemed to be embarrassed as she drew her wand and cast something resembling a shield.

It wouldn’t be powerful enough to fend off a single Dementor for long, but it was a start.

Harry nodded and took her free hand.

“Again.”

She did so, and he felt the magic leaving her.

Immediately identifying the problem, he drew his own wand.

“Close your eyes,” he urged. “Expecto Patronum.”

She shuddered at the influx of magic she received as Harry’s stag cantered audibly around the room, the light as blinding as it was warming.

“That is what you need to feel,” Harry murmured. “Is it there?”

The woman nodded.

“Try again.”

“Expecto Patronum.”

The shield she produced was brighter this time, and she held it until an enormous dolphin formed and began swimming through the air around them.

“Open your eyes,” Harry instructed.

She did so, and they widened in disbelief at the sight of the creature.

“Now, do you understand?” Harry asked.

The woman nodded and beamed at her success.

“Thank you,” she whispered gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied.

“Wait, can you help me?” one of the men asked, followed by the other who couldn’t produce a Patronus.

(Break)

“You seem very preoccupied with that door,” Imelda commented.

“I am not,” Amelia denied, tearing her gaze away from the direction of the training room.

“If you say so,” the other woman snorted amusedly. “Are you so keen for the extra training?”

“Don’t you think it will be interesting?”

“It will,” Imelda agreed, “but methinks you have an ulterior motive. You have that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

“Of a lovesick puppy.”

“I am not a lovesick puppy!”

Imelda hummed as she placed a file she had been reviewing on top of the others.

“You’re really convincing, Bones,” she replied. “Is he hot?”

“Who?”

“The man doing the training?”

Amelia frowned at her and didn’t offer a response.

Instead, she shifted her attention to the door of the training room which had opened, and five of her colleagues filed out, including Moody.

Amelia immediately approached the man, and he chuckled as he shook his head.

“You’re a bit keen, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Oh, shut up,” Amelia grumbled. “How was it?”

Moody’s gaze swept around the room, and he shook his head.

“Office,” he murmured.

Amelia followed, and Alastor closed the door behind him.

“Well?” she demanded.

“He really knows his stuff.”

“I know that.”

“No, Bones, he really knows his stuff,” Moody emphasised. “He just has this understanding of magic that I’ve only ever seen from Albus. It sounds like he’s speaking an entirely different language to the rest of us, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t work. Remember Collins? She couldn’t pass her Patronus training.”

“I remember.”

“What our lot couldn’t get her to do in almost two years, Jameson did it in two minutes,” he revealed admirably. “It’s like he just knows this stuff, like it’s second nature to him. Thank Merlin he’s one of the good ones. We’d be in trouble if he decided not to be.”

Amelia nodded.

“What was it like?” she asked curiously.

“Nothing that I expected, but you’ll see for yourself when it’s your turn,” Moody replied with a grin.

“You’re such a git.”

“Aye, but I’m the git who got to go first,” Moody said smugly, “and it looks as though you’re going to have to wait even longer,” he added, nodding towards the passing Grimm who was being trailed by five other Aurors.

Amelia glared at the laughing Moody and took her leave from the office.

“What is it?” she asked the approaching Imelda.

“We’ve been sent to Knockturn Alley to cover for Samson and Payne.”

“Of course we have,” Amelia sighed.

She was looking forward to the training, and not just because it was Harry conducting it, or so she had somewhat convinced herself.

“Well, I suppose we’d better get going,” she huffed. “Come on, and remember…”

“Keep my wits about me?”

Amelia nodded.

“We might just make an Auror of you yet,” she sighed.

(Break)

He scowled at the headline of the newspaper he had been delivered, and he read the short, accompanying message through several times before shaking his head disapprovingly.

“A thousand galleons,” he grumbled. “You would think that I would be worth considerably more. What say you, Lestrange?”

Lestrange nodded.

“Well, you got the attention you wanted,” he pointed out. “I’m sure that figure will rise given time.”

“It is an insult,” Voldemort sighed irritably. “As the heir of Slytherin, it should already be much more.”

“But they do not know you are the heir of Slytherin.”

“True,” the Dark Lord conceded as he leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. “Then perhaps they should.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if the other purebloods knew of my lineage, would that not garner support from some?”

“I expect so.”

“And it would certainly cause concern for the powers that be,” Voldemort continued. “The legacy of my ancestor is one most are cautious of.”

“It is,” Lestrange agreed, “but do you believe we are strong enough? Such a movement as the one you propose would see us locked up.”

“That is why we must operate in secrecy until the time is right for all of my followers to be revealed,” Voldemort explained, “and when that time comes, we will be the power in government. It is time, Lestrange, to begin to show them that we truly mean business. Gather the others. We will show the Ministry just what it is they are up against.”

(Break)

“How did they fare?” Grimm asked as Harry entered the office.

“Well enough. It will take some time, but so long as they practice, there’s no reason they shouldn’t be able to handle it if it happens again. I’ll return tomorrow to work with some others.”

Grimm nodded appreciatively.

“When I have worked with each group, I will do so again to test them. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone be harmed.”

“I trust you, Jameson. After everything you have done for Bones, how can I not? She was quite put out that I’ve made her wait.”

“Why have you?”

“Because it’s not often I get the opportunity to get one over on her,” Grimm chuckled. “She’s one of the best I’ve seen come through this place, and it brings me a petty sense of joy to see her so irritated.”

“Well, I’ll be the one that has to deal with that when I get home,” Harry sighed. “Thanks.”

“Are the two of you living together?” the Head Auror asked interestedly.

Harry frowned at the question.

He couldn’t remember a time in recent weeks that Amelia hadn’t stayed at his house. They still slept in separate rooms but it was as though she’d simply gotten into the habit of being there.

Not that Harry minded.

He’d come to expect her each evening, and in truth, he wouldn’t have it any differently.

“No, that’s none of my business,” Grimm spoke once more before Harry could answer. “It’s just strange to see her like this.”

“Like what?” Harry asked curiously.

“Happy, I suppose,” Grimm replied thoughtfully. “Bones came here straight from Hogwarts, and up until a couple of years ago, when she first met you, being an Auror was her life. She would be the first one in every morning and the last to leave. The job is something of an obsession for her. After what happened to her parents, this is what she decided to do, and she has dedicated herself to it wholeheartedly.”

“Did you know her parents?” Harry questioned.

Grimm shook his head.

“I knew of her father from his time on the Wizengamot. He was well-respected and firm in his political beliefs. He always voted for what he believed was right and wasn’t swayed by any. He was a good man, Jameson. I was an Auror when they were murdered, and we all followed the case. Suddenly, the investigation was dropped. I can’t say why, but it never felt right to any of us. Something is off about the whole thing.”

Harry nodded his agreement.

“Anyway, it’s just nice to see her have more than this place. Whatever you’re doing, Jameson, keep it up, and remember, she has an entire team of Aurors behind her. Don’t make us come for you.”

The man was half-joking, and despite the eccentricities both Amelia and Moody had spoken of, Grimm truly did care about those under him, something that was a rarity of men in such positions of power.

“I understand,” Harry chuckled, “and I agree with you. Something is very wrong with the outcome of what happened to her parents. I will see you in the morning. Will you be taking part in the training?”

Grimm nodded.

“I will include myself and Smith in the last group,” he explained. “That lot out there is the priority.”

“Then I look forward to working with you.”

“And I you, Jameson.”

With a final nod, Harry left the office, and in only a matter of moments, he arrived back in his own home.

It had been a long day, but the effort had been worth it.

The Aurors truly were amongst the most talented witches and wizards in the country, and Harry could only lament at how far the department had fallen during his own time.

The likes of Malfoy were to blame for that.

Lucius, along with his cohorts, had convinced the pliable Fudge that without Voldemort, such a large and functioning department was no longer necessary.

By the time the Dark Lord had resurfaced, the resistance he’d faced had been laughable.

Still, Voldemort was a problem for another day.

As Harry passed the living room, he paused in the doorway at the sight of Amelia lying on the sofa where she’d evidently fallen asleep.

It had indeed been a long day, but for her, a longer week.

Ever since he’d begun looking into the murder of her parents, and with every obstacle put in his way, he’d often wondered why he was subjecting himself to the inevitable danger he would face and the difficulty he was enduring just to get there.

At first, it was for no other reason than she deserved the justice she sought for herself and her family.

Harry truly understood what it was to be Amelia Bones.

He’d spent his own formative years burdened by the murder of his mother and father, and though his own retribution had not measured up to what he’d expected, Amelia should not be deprived of the same freedom he’d achieved.

Now, it had become much more than the pursuit of justice, and as he watched her sleep with her long, red hair splayed around her shoulders, the gentle frown creasing her brow, and her parted lips, he knew he couldn’t deny what motivated more than anything else.

It was no longer only about justice and giving Amelia the closure she so desperately deserved; it was simply all for her, the vibrant, strong, and beautiful Auror who had captured his heart.

“You’re back.”

It was said sleepily, but her words were spoken with fondness, and her eyes were filled with a warmth that filled him in turn.

Harry couldn’t remember a time that he’d ever been spoken to in such a way.

Perhaps his mother had when he’d been a babe, but he didn’t remember it, and it was an odd, though not unwelcome feeling.

“I’m back,” he replied. “Have you eaten?”

Amelia shook her head as she yawned.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Then we should get you fed, Auror Bones,” Harry suggested, offering her a hand.

She took it, and he pulled her up from the sofa, pressing his lips against hers as he did so.

“What was that for?” Amelia asked when they broke apart.

“Maybe I just felt like it.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Was it everything you wanted?” she asked with a smirk.

“It was bloody awful,” Harry muttered before kissing her again.

“Then you must be a glutton for punishment.”

“I must be,” Harry sighed, grinning as Amelia glared at him.

(Break)

He looked upon those gathered before him, a victorious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The number of men and women was only around forty, but it was a start, and the Dark Lord had no doubt his ranks would swell soon enough.

As per his urging, all of them had donned masks to hide their identities from one another.

Though he doubted any would attend with foolish intentions to report them for what they would be discussing, it was better to be cautious, just in case he had indeed underestimated the stupidity of any.

“It humbles me to see you all here,” he murmured. “Over the past years, I have watched the decline of our country. I have looked on as the pureblood families of Great Britain have steadily had their rights and privileges intruded on by the muggleborns, half-bloods, and our own government, which cows to them. My friends, it has become clear that we are no longer the majority, and already, our ways are crumbling right before our eyes.”

He had their attention, and the Dark Lord chose to capitalise on it.

“As things stand, we have a Minister of Magic who is sympathetic towards those who demand more and more of all our ancestors built and worked for. We have a Chief Warlock who is a half-blood and has proven his fondness for muggles. Dumbledore has used the reputation he carved for himself by defeating Voldemort to push his own agenda, and it disappoints me to see so many purebloods have whored themselves to gain his favour.”

The gathered men and women murmured their agreement.

“If only that were all we have to contend with,” Voldemort sighed, knowing he had them right where he wanted them. “I expect much has escaped your notice, and it isn’t your fault. What I have seen is indeed concerning and only grows more worrisome. Did you know that more than seventy percent of new magical businesses in Britain have been opened and run without a single galleon of investment from your families? It is true,” he assured them as they grumbled their discontent. “If you do not believe me, then please, look into for yourselves. That figure is staggering, considering that a little over a decade ago, more than ninety percent were funded by investments from pureblood families. What has changed, my friends? Why has what has always worked been snubbed in favour of investment from other sources?”

“What sources?” a disgruntled man questioned.

“The goblins.”

“The goblins?”

Voldemort nodded.

“They are using your gold to fund these ventures in their name and making quite the profit from it. I fear it is not only the muggleborns, the half-bloods, and the government against us. The creatures to whom you entrust your wealth are taking liberties. None of them respect you or your ancestors any longer.”

“It’s a disgrace!”

“It is,” the Dark Lord agreed, “and I’m afraid that it may already be too little, too late, and for that, you have my apologies. I should have begun sooner when I saw the problem emerging, but I am only one man. Alone, we are all powerless to stop the turning tide, but together, maybe, just maybe, we can undo the damage that has been done. We need change, a leader who will do what is necessary for those changes to happen. The protests were an excellent start, but our woes go so deep that our voices are no longer heard. We could scream our fears from the rooftops, and they would fall on deaf ears. Maybe we are already too late, but if we wish to salvage all our ancestors created, we must act decisively. We must show the mudbloods and filth who are benefitting from the graft of our forefathers that we will not be cowed, that we will not sit idly by whilst they take what is ours, and that we will do whatever it takes to remain where we belong. That is unless the changes around us please you?”

The masked men and women had been worked into a sense of righteous anger, and Voldemort knew he’d done it.

They began talking angrily amongst themselves, and he held up his hands.

“The time for peace is over,” he declared. “It has already failed us all, and the only way to ensure nothing else is taken from us is to take back what we lost. Are you with me?”

They cheered like the easily manipulated sheep they were, and the Dark Lord grinned to himself.

Now, his campaign could truly begin without further delay.

“Now, I have a task for those who wish to assist me. Do I have any volunteers?”

(Break)

Harry woke with a start, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. Having had dinner, he and Amelia had fallen asleep on the sofa as they listened to the radio, which was still playing in the darkness of the living room.

Silencing it with a flick of his wand, he carefully sat up so as not to disturb the woman who had been wrapped in his arms.

“Is something wrong?” Amelia asked, his efforts evidently having failed.

“Just a bad dream,” Harry murmured.

He couldn’t remember what it had entailed, but he could not rid himself of the sense of unease he had given him.

Everything had been rather distorted; the voices and the faces of the others present, but what had remained prevalent was the distinct sinister of the gathering.

“Do you get them often?” Amelia questioned as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“They come and go,” Harry sighed. “It’s been something of a recurring theme for as long as I can remember.”

That was true, and though they’d never stopped making the occasional appearance, there was something unsettling about this one, even if he didn’t know what had happened.

“Don’t worry, Jameson, you’ve got me to scare the boogeymen away,” Amelia replied lightly, though her tone left Harry in no doubt that she meant every word.

“Then I will sleep soundly from now on,” he chuckled amusedly.

“Good, but does it have to be on the sofa?” Amelia grumbled. “My back is killing me.”

“No, we can go to bed,” Harry answered as he stood, stretching his own aching limbs. “I’ll see you in the morning, Bones.”

As he turned to leave, he felt her hand closed over his wrist.

“I meant together, Jameson,” Amelia said shyly. “I did promise to protect you from the boogeymen,” she added as an afterthought.

Harry nodded without hesitation.

“You did,” he agreed readily, making his way towards his room.

Amelia’s grip moved from his wrist to his hand as she followed, and both knew neither could deny the unmistakable shift in their relationship.

For more than two years now, they had danced around one another. They’d shared many kisses more recently, but emotionally, they’d delved deeper than either had anticipated.

Perhaps they had always both known there was something more than acquaintanceship and even friendship between them, but neither had blurred those lines until Amelia had kissed him.

“Wait.”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Even in the darkness, he knew she was biting her lower lip.

“I need to shower first,” Amelia answered. “I’m not getting into bed with you like this.”

Harry snorted amusedly as she rushed off to do so, and he followed suit, taking the opportunity to wash away the grime of the day. By the time he was finished, Amelia hadn’t returned, but before he could ponder it, a tentative knock sounded at the door.

Amelia entered, and Harry quirked an eyebrow at her.

“You have my pyjamas?”

“Oh, I took these weeks ago,” Amelia replied with a shrug. “You wouldn’t deprive me of my small comforts, would you?”

“What about my comforts?”

“You have lots of pyjamas, Jameson.”

“True,” Harry sighed. “Note to self: hide your pyjamas.”

Amelia tutted at him.

“You’re being dramatic again,” she said amusedly.

Harry frowned at the woman.

“Which side do you sleep on?”

“The left.”

“Good, because that’s where you were going to sleep anyway,” Harry returned, pulling back the duvet and climbing in.

“You know, you can be quite sassy at times.”

“Me?”

Amelia nodded as she joined him.

For a few moments, they got themselves comfortable, but both kept a respectful distance between them, and something of an awkward tension settled into the room.

“This is ridiculous,” Amelia huffed. “I’m a twenty-five-year-old woman.”

She brazenly shuffled herself towards Harry and rested her head on his chest.

Instinctively, Harry wrapped an arm around her, and the redhead sighed contentedly.

“Does this feel strange?” she asked.

Harry shook his head.

“No,” he murmured. “It feels just right.”

“Good,” Amelia whispered, nestling herself somehow closer.

They said nothing else, both choosing to enjoy the intimate moment with no need to talk.

Harry didn’t know when he’d drifted off, but the sun had barely risen when he woke up to find Amelia already dressed in her Auror robes.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Early,” she answered as she styled her hair with a wave of her wand. “I got a call to go in.”

“Emergency?”

“Aftermath of an incident. That usually means there’s been a murder or maybe something worse. I won’t know until I get there, but you should get some more sleep.”

Harry nodded.

“Is having my rest disturbed something I will have to get used to?”

“Isn’t it worth it?” Amelia asked before kissing him. “Your bed is comfortable, Jameson. I could get used to being in it.”

With that, she left, and Harry leaned back into his pillows, though it wasn’t so long before he was disturbed once more as a concerned Amelia returned.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Amelia shook her head.

“I think you’re going to want to see this, Jameson.”